The Wonders of Womanhood, part I

Ahh...it's about that time. In my pregnancy, which (I'm told) has been quite mild, I have had few hormonal "episodes"--psychotic outbursts, crying fits, etc. However, I feel that as a woman, it is my right and, frankly, duty to share a couple of the finer points now that I'm halfway through this rite of passage. Henceforth, I shall share some of these awesome pregnancy symptoms in this blog (in no particular order of greatness).

GO CHARGERS!!!

We're inviting people over to watch the game.  Let's hope it's a game worth watching...

UPDATE: Yes, it was quite a game worth watching. The first quarter saw the Chargers ahead 17-14, but the second quarter was just the opposite. My mom, sister, and I all had tiny heart attacks as we watched and commiserated via cell phones and text messages.  

Finally, thanks to the heroics of Mr. Darren Sproales and Mr. Mike Scifres, we were able to scrape a tie in by the end of the fourth quarter.  In OT, we bypassed the usual field goal and scored a full-on TD to make the score 23-17.  Phew! The Chargers are headed to Pittsburgh now for the divisional round of the playoffs!  WOOO HOOO!!!  

Crap...lots and lots of crap (part deux)

So...we have to make room for a baby's nursery and move our guest room.  In addition, we're embarking on some minor construction with a new closet in our master bedroom.  This means that our crap needs to be sifted and organized.  Part of me is terrified, while the other part is elated.  Help mommy.  Help.

Crap...lots and lots of crap.

In a biweekly visit to our local Goodwill truck today, a thought occurred to me: one only has to go into one's garage (or other storage space) to appreciate how much crap one can accumulate in his or her lifetime.  Take our situation, for instance.  

For some time, my husband and I lived in several small apartments.  In the process of down-sizing from a large home, however, I had to rent not one but TWO storage units to accommodate my ginormous collection of crap.  Much to Keith's chagrin, I paid (and then we paid) royally for this convenience--the ability to visit my crap on a semiannual basis--over a period of almost three years.  Even when we bought and moved into our condo (only slightly bigger than the apartment), his dream of clearing out both storage spaces was not realized.  

Finally, we bought our own piece of 2000-square-foot heaven: a free-standing single-family home with a two-car garage.  Ahhh...storage be done!  Right?  Well, kind of.  Instead of the garage-like space we used to rent in Newport Beach, we now have our own garage with rafter space, several smallish closets, and lots of nooks and crannies in which to ferret away our dirty little secret: lots of "we might use this someday, right?" crap.

After a year and a half of living storage-unit-free, we're doing our best to donate or sell these meaningless items and streamline our life.  With a baby on the way, it seems even more important, as that will surely be a catalyst for an unbelievable amount of crap. We've had several humorous discussions about where we'll put the baby (because OMG--where will we put the crap??!!).

Anyway, if you have any bright ideas for de-crapping one's living space, please let us know.  We're all about de-crapping.

UPS trauma

I'm extremely worried that my gifts for several SD family members won't arrive in time. They're slated to come today, but are in a faraway land called "Anaheim" on a truck.  Apparently, UPS doesn't look fondly upon eager holiday elves (re: me) ambushing said truck to requisition her gifts prior to driving the 100 miles, either.  Bah humbug, UPS. Bah humbug.

What do you get for the girl/guy who has everything?

We just saw yet ANOTHER commercial for a "Seen on TV!" item called the "Snuggie".  This gem is a fleece blanket with arms which makes the Snuggie-snuggler (aka--the person wearing said blanket) look like a monk.  My favorite part of the commercial? A cutaway to an entire family of Snuggie-snuggler monks at a sporting event high-fiving. It was quite the religious experience.

Too bad Christmas is right around the corner. I'm compelled to buy one for every family member.

My life with Keith

As I type, my husband Keith sends suggestions into my right ear that would make a sailor blush, but I'm all about keeping it clean (mostly).  I often joke that he is an amalgamation of many things: a five-year-old, a labrador retriever, and an undiagnosed Tourette Syndrome patient to name just a few.  But he does remain my favorite oddity--even when he is shout-singing a totally random phrase into the air five times in a row using his most annoying nasal-robot voice (did I mention the Tourette Syndrome?).  He emailed my sister no fewer than seven pictures of random cats today, too.  Like I said: my favorite oddity.  Never a dull moment in the Carmona house.  That's Keith.