You'd never guess it from the amount they hold out of my check.
5:17 p.m. - 2005-04-08


Moving on toward 11 weeks. I have another ultrasound (this makes the third) on Monday, and hopefully I'll be able to distinguish the arms and legs. Alan isn't going this time, but I'm taking the video with me so that they can film it again. If nothing else, this baby will be set story-wise if it ever decides to work in t.v. My friend Melissa (who is off drugs and doing well, thanks for asking) is going with me, and afterwards I have to buy some bras and a couple of pairs of pants, so it should be a fun time. We'll also do lunch, and you know how I look forward to eating.

Have I mentioned the astronomical amount of taxes that we're having to pay? Probably not, because I've been in shock for the past couple of days and haven't felt much like discussing it. We owe LOTS, to the tune of more than three and less than five g's, and there's no way in hell that we can come up with that kind of money on our own by next Friday. I thought I'd be all resourceful and ask my parents for a loan (because god knows they have it to spare, and that way we wouldn't have to worry with the bank) but I was met with a less than sympathetic ear and some rather hostile words. Something to the tune of, "I don't care if you're worried about insurance not covering this baby or about whether or not the cramps are normal. Don't bother US with YOUR fucking problems, because we don't want to hear them," and besides hurting my feelings, it really, Really pissed me off. I haven't spoken to either of them since they told me that, and I have no intentions of doing so unless I get a Very apologetic phone call. My dad emailed me last night ("I love you") but that just ain't going to cut it. I'm actually more pissed at my mom than my dad (there are extenuating circumstances, like her not wanting to go to the doctor with me because she doesn't want to get out of the goddamned house, and saying, "Well, I will if you want me to" when I asked if she wanted to be in the delivery room with me), but both of them are on my shit list for the moment (not that they care) and if it were October instead of April they wouldn't even get a "I'm going into labor" phone call. Hrmph.

Now that I've managed to sound like an angst-y fifteen year old (or a pregnant woman with her feelings out on her sleeve) I'll go. I hate that I'm so boring--especially here, where I have the option of talking about current events and stuff--but I can't seem to think of anything to say. Hopefully one day I'll clear the fog from my brain and become witty and charming and downright interesting to read. Until then...

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I am: so very many things. A mother, a wife, a dreamer, a lover of animals and babies, a friend. I've been called a bitch, but if that's what you call someone who stands up for what they believe in and refuses to settle, then I guess the title fits.

loves: my family, horses, a full night's sleep, puppy breath, my daughter's laughter, thunderstorms, bubble baths, makeup, soft sheets, David Sedaris and Augusten Burroughs, wine, massages, the written word, and sour straws.

dislikes: closed minds, depression, pimples, extreme heat, math, panic attacks, black licorice, doing laundry, white chocolate, gin, Bush.