Summer!

I hate bugs. I'm a big bug wussy - very bad at killing them, and very grossed out by most all of the insect world. I can't get over my phobia. I always call on Vid to play exterminator.

A few weeks ago, D killed a jibblie bug on our bathroom ceiling. (What's a jibblie bug? It's one of those grayish, hairy, fragile looking millipedes that hang out in damp places in our house. We hate them. When you squash them, all that's left is a gray blob and some million quivering legs.) Since then, every time I've walked into the bathroom, I've scanned the ceiling and the floor for gross things. To my relief, I've never seen anything.

So yesterday, D left for work. I get up, turn on the shower (bleary eyed, no contacts, etc) and climb in. I turn my face towards the water, look up at the shower head, and crawling around on top is a JIBBLIE BUG. I watch it crawl frantically back and forth near the spray. It's clear I've startled it as much as it's startled me. I don't want to stick my head under the water, because if Jibblie Boy decides to head towards the spray, he'll be knocked off the shower head, onto my head, and get tangled in my wet hair. And that might be the worst thing EVER. So I shut off the shower and jump out to put my contacts in. My thinking is I'll be able to see him better, and then I can reach up and throw a rag over him or something and squash him. Only, by the time I have my contacts in, Jibblie Boy has crawled OFF the top of the shower head, down in between the faucet and the cap. (You know, where the water comes out.) I know he's in there, because he's his antennae and the tip of his head are peeking through the gap. There are two long feelers wiggling around, threatening me.

What do I do? There is no Vid to save me. I'm half wet and need a shower. Can he fit through the holes? Will he climb back out? I decide to get back in the shower. I figure since I have my contacts in, at least I'll see him make an escape, and I can hop out. To my relief, he stayed put. But I took my shower eyeing those antennae with a scowl, tilted as far away from him as my baby belly equilibrium would allow. It was a fast shower. Now he's gone. I don't know where.

It made me realize that summer is here. Why? Because summer in Illinois is about humidity and bugs. Not only are the jibblies making an appearance, but we have earwigs EVERYWHERE. And the crickets are out in force at night. This morning it was 80 at 8 AM, and it's supposed to reach 93. Despite the bugs, I actually love the heat. If I were not so fat and pregnant, I'd go out and enjoy it.

Of course, if I weren't so fat and pregnant, I'd be at the office, working. So, never mind.

Rainforest

Last night it poured buckets. Buckets. And although it was thundering and lightning out, which made me think the rain would be pounding in through the windows, it seemed to be coming straight down.

(Can I take a moment here and say that I hate it when I read the word "lightening" when people mean the other? If you are talking about a storm, I am pretty darn sure that you want to say "lightning". If you spell it "lightening", aren't you talking about what happens in the morning? I.e. "The sky is lightening?" My English major friends, please, please correct me if I am wrong.)

Anyway.

We awoke to gray, overcast skies, 70 degrees, and humidity. As I stood in the kitchen looking out at our overgrown backyard, I watched steam rise off the grass and trees. The whole world was green. And foggy and wet. And suddenly, more than anything, I wanted to go visit the Zoo. I really felt like I had wandered into the Rainforest exhibit at Brookfield, and I wanted to play hooky.

Oh, to be six again.

Squirrels

David and I are trying our hand at survival landscaping this spring. Our yard looks like junk. Our trees need to be trimmed, our lawn treated and weeded, and our flowerbeds redone. I’d love to rip out the bushes in front of our house and plant small flowering trees. I’d love to mulch and put in a new walk to the front door. I’d love to bury the sump pump hose that sticks out from behind the little evergreen tree in front of our picture window, so that it’s not sitting in the middle of my garden, spilling rainwater out onto our driveway. But we can’t afford (and don’t have time for) any of that right now. Hence the “survival landscaping” mode. I weed, I rake, and I try to clean things up and plant little things here and there to at least brighten the site. And it pays off. Today D walked off with BOTH sets of car keys, and so a coworker had to pick me up. When she came to the front door, she told me the house was looking really good. Score. Yay for small victories.

That said, I have to tell this story. Backtracking just a bit.

After my morning shower I wandered out into the living room to open the curtains and let the morning sun into our chilly living room. I looked down at our newly planted geraniums and impatiens, feeling rather pleased with myself, and noticed not one, but four squirrels playing by our front door. Now, we have a lot of squirrels in our neighborhood, but four on our front stoop is rather much. I watched them for a minute, and saw them scamper through our little garden in front of the picture window. “Are they eating my flowers?” I gasped, seething a bit inside. I watched some more. The four of them scampered up the branches of that tiny evergreen tree, rocking the little thing back and forth with all their antics. “What is going on?” I wondered. I kept eyeing them, waiting for one to chomp on a flower.

But then they ran down the tree. I felt a modicum of relief. One squirrel, a chunky black one, took off and hid under my car. Another squirrel, a brown one, paused on the sidewalk. But, to my horror, the other two squirrels went racing up the thick black sump pump hose, rocking and rolling around inside it. Up and down they ran, enjoying their own personal playground. And then it hit me…

Can a normal sized squirrel squeeze into a 2-inch PVC pipe?

I really don’t want to be calling the plumber to remove drowned squirrels from our sump pump.

Cookie Monster and Lost

When I'm at work, but not actually focused on my job, here are the kinds of things that happen:

Andrea and I were at lunch the other day. And Pat (the office admin) brought cookies and brownies to lunch – the Lofthouse super soft cookies with lots of frosting. Andrea exclaimed over the cookies, saying, “C is for Cookie! That’s good enough for me!”

I reminded her, “A cookie is a sometimes food. You know you cannot have them all the time.”

To which she replied, “You are right. A cookie for breakfast with my coffee. A cookie after lunch. And a cookie at three o’clock as a snack is not all the time. It is only sometimes.”

“Yes,” I nodded, “You are right. All the time is really a lot of time. A cookie for breakfast, after lunch, and as a snack is only three times in one day, which is certainly not ALL the time. To eat cookies ALL the time means you would have to eat cookies continuously, 24 hours a day.”

“You are right!” she said, and bit into a cookie.

Suddenly it seemed like Cookie Monster might not have such a bad deal after all.


Or a thought like this one pops up:

What if the people on the island on LOST had to repopulate the Earth? (Aside - David and I just started Season Two - no spoilers please!! I’m not saying I think this is a plot of the show, I was just thinking about it.) There are 43 people on the Island now. Assume there are roughly equal numbers of men and women. Because so many of them are strangers, if they had to repopulate the planet, could they? Is there enough genetic diversity? Or does the whole 6-degrees-of-separation thing that LOST has going on get in the way?

One thing's for sure. The new Earth would have some beautiful people. I've never seen such a collection of "normal yet supermodel-esque" genes. Really, what are the chances that 43 good looking people survive a plane crash? I don't think their lives are so rough... At least they have some pretty faces to look at while hiding from Smoky the Man Eating Monster and the Others.

Being Preggers

I noticed something on Sunday at church: My belly gets me lots of attention.

Case in point: I decided to wear a maternity dress to church the other day because we are finally having some spring weather here. Over 10 people commented on how I looked (I just did a count in my head.) - and those were people I knew. But what was fascinating to me yesterday was that three women I did not know walked up to me, introduced themselves, and chatted with me about being preggers. Go figure.

Here are some of my favorite comments from Sunday. To my gentler readers - please don't be offended. And please remember I was at church...

"Oh, now you look cute. I imagine those dresses are more comfortable than pants?" (Now? Now? Just what does that mean?)
"Well, look at you! You don't look too uncomfortable or sore or anything." (No, not right now, but you should see me try to get out of bed in the morning.)
"You can't even tell you're pregnant from behind!" (Hmm... people contemplating my behind...)
"Oh, you just wait. You'll gain weight, especially in your chest! When I was pregnant, my boobs started at my collarbone! My husband loved it! (Your collarbone? Really??)
"You know, you don't look like you're getting it too bad!" (Like a bad case of the chicken pox, or what?)
"You don't know me. But I just have to tell you, I've loved watching your belly grow." (Uh... gee... thanks.)
Rub rub, pat pat. "Oh my GOSH! I had no idea you were pregnant!" (Yes, but I've talked with you at least five times since I found out I was pregnant. Just what did I look like before?)
"Be careful how much pink you let your daughter wear - my daughter is a pink-hater now!" (?)

It's the weirdest thing. I mean, I'm teasing, I know, but I think I appreciate it. Still, it sort of makes me marvel at how little attention I was paid before the belly appeared. I mean, everyone knows David. And so, if anyone met me, the first comment of comprehension/connection usually was, "Oh, your husband David is up front! I love his voice (violin playing, worship...etc.)." When I finally got involved in the Children's Ministry at church I established a bit of a face for myself. But the belly by far takes the cake. Suddenly it feels like everyone has their eyes on me.

And the ironic thing is, I'll probably miss all the attention after she's born.

PS 25 weeks and counting.