Sunday, May 11

Continuing directly from my previous post...

Sunday afternoon was fabulous. We spent the afternoon on the beach, reading and playing in the water. I felt slightly guilty for missing church, but Jon quickly pointed out that we didn't have our clothes in time for church anyway. Yay for valid excuses.

The water here is gorgeous--blue and clear (not to mention incredibly warm). After spending all my beach time in Southern California, however, I was thrown off by a few things. First, the water is extremely shallow. We were out pretty far from the beach and were still only up to our waists. Second, the waves on Waikiki are crappy. Apparently they're better on the North Shore, but the odds of us getting out there are slim (no car). Third, you have to watch your step. There are giant patches of rugged coral/rocks waiting for you to gash your foot on them. Or your toe, like Jon did. A very kid friendly beach, as Aunt Lori said (as long as you keep them away from the rocks).

Later that evening, however, we reaped the consequences of our actions. As a redhead, I've had more than my fair share of serious sunburns. As my mom pointed out before we left, the last thing I needed was to be pregnant AND burnt. Thus, I was religious about my sunscreen application. I covered myself from head to toe--literally (I put sunscreen on the part of my hair)--with SPF 45. I also wore a wifebeater over my swimsuit and a visor at all times. Jon wasn't as worried as I was, but I still made him put on sunscreen. And we both reapplied after an hour out there. Unfortunately, we missed some spots. Well, Jon missed his legs and feet entirely. These pictures don't do justice to the painful red coloring we've acquired (although you can kind of see my awesome cankles). And they were taken two days after the fact. We broke the Sabbath and bought some much-needed aloe.

Bedtime is early for us (8 pm) because Jon has to be up at 4 am and out the door by 5 am. Luckily the fan in our room drowns out the sounds of the elevator right next to our bedroom. I don't think I'm going to be happy going home to our queen-sized bed after two weeks in a king-sized.

More tomorrow. If I feel like it.

The Bad Beginning

Disclaimer: This post (and probably the next few) are for journaling purposes. Which means you don't have to read them. I skip over other bloggers' travelogues, so don't feel guilty about skipping mine.

As excited as I was to be going to Hawaii, I was less than thrilled with the prospect of flying for 11 hours (3 hours from Baltimore to Dallas, 3 hours from Dallas to LA, 5 hours from LA to Honolulu). I hate long flights anyway, but trying to do it while 7 1/2 months pregnant sounded like extra fun. And it was.

There were two factors that added significantly to my discomfort: First--seating arrangements. Unfortunately, Jon was unable to get us seats next to each other. This was not a problem on the first two flights, but the last one (the LONG one) was a different story. Second--food issues. American Airlines gives you NO snacks. Not even a bag of peanuts. You can BUY a snack (like a giant cookie) for only $3! $3 for a cookie? No way. We loaded up on snacks and figured we'd eat dinner in LA before our flight left. Hah.

I also discovered the joy of edema during this adventure. I knew the rule about getting up to walk around every hour, but our first flight had us right next to the stewardess station, so there was always a cart or a grumpy stewardess in my way. When we got off the plane, I noticed that the top of my feet were hurting (weird, I know). I looked down and saw my GIANT, SWOLLEN FEET and kind of panicked. I called my mom and was pleased to find out that no, I did not have a blood clot in my leg. I'm just a fat, pregnant lady who got up religiously every hour on the next two flights. And who still has cankles two days later.

Everything went smoothly until we were leaving Dallas. For some unknown reason, they took their precious time loading the bags on the plane. We sat on the plane for 40 minutes while ONE MAN slowly loaded the luggage. Usually delays don't bother me too much, but when you only have an hour between when you're supposed to land and when your next flight leaves, a 40 minute delay is bad news.

We landed just in time for us to board our plane to Honolulu. Which meant no food for us. We hadn't eaten anything substantial for for 8 hours, so I was very grumpy. Not to mention that my pregnancy hormones seems to be getting more intense the further along I get.

And thus began the worst flight I've ever been on. Jon & I were unable to negotiate a seat swap since we both happened to sit next to couples. That alone was enough to make me almost start bawling in public. Unfortunately, it gets worse. The couple I happened to sit next to consisted of a grumpy lady who sat by the window, and an obese older man who sat in the middle. Right next to me. And proceeded to hack up phlegm the entire flight. I sat on the edge of my seat the entire flight trying to avoid touching his leg (which was blatantly in my seating area) or breathing in any of the air he was breathing out. Absolutely the worst flight of my life.

We finally land in Honolulu, and, just to top things off, they inform us that our luggage wasn't put on our flight because our plane was so late. So here we are in Hawaii--it's 3 am our time, we haven't eaten for 16 hours, we're totally gross from traveling all day, and we have no luggage. Which means no pajamas, and no toothbrushes. They told us our luggage would be delivered to our hotel at midnight (6 am our time). And they don't give you any sort of "we're sorry we screwed up on your luggage" gift unless it's gone for more than 24 hours. Losers.

Well, at least we could get some food now. Jon's team leader, Kevin, picked us up and took us to McDonald's, where I ordered a bacon ranch salad (salads always sound good after flying all day). Yum, yum. We got to our hotel, got our room (which is very nice), and sat down to eat. I pull out my salad, open up the dressing, and realize that it's not ranch. It's some Sesame Ginger dressing that makes me want to puke. So I ate Jon's fries, and the chicken and bacon off my salad. I am not the kind of person who will eat dressing-less lettuce. Sick.

We decide to sleep for a few hours until our luggage arrives. Imagine our surprise when we woke up at 2:30 am and discovered that our luggage was still not there. Nor was it there at 6:30 am when I woke up Jon and made him come eat breakfast with me. (I've never eaten so much food in one sitting). We gave the concierge our cell number and went for a walk on the beach (in our day-old clothes with unbrushed teeth. Yummy). A few hours later we get a call informing us that our luggage actually did come in at 3 am this morning. They just didn't want to call and wake us up (we were up) and then somehow forgot to pass the message on to the next concierge. At this point I was just grateful that it was all there.

And that's how we started our trip to Hawaii! I'm thrilled to announce that it can only go up from there. Sorry once again for the lack of pictures--no way I was going to visually document any part of this lovely day.

More to come...

Short & Sweet

Sorry for the lack of posts lately. It's been one of those weeks where I feel like I'm never at home. I hate weeks like that (Jon & I are both homebodies). And I don't have any pictures, so you'll have to use your imaginations.

Jon took last Friday off work so we could get some maintenance taken care of around the outside of the house. We had a grand time shoving rocks and dirt under the A/C unit to level it out, waterproofing the deck, and re-caulking the mantle above our front door. By the way, scraping old caulk off of brick? Not fun.

So when I say "we", I basically mean Jon. I helped as much as possible, but the sisters needed someone to go with them on Friday, and then I had this horrible stake Activity Days shindig on Saturday. Biggest waste of 3 1/2 hours EVER.

Saturday night we had our traditional Cinco de Mayo party with a couple from our ward. Unfortunately, it was slightly marred by the fact that I couldn't find Sangria ANYWHERE. I went to 3 different stores looking for it, but it was useless. I found it in Utah, Arkansas, and Iowa, but Maryland? Nope. At least my enchiladas were awesome (and gave me beastly heartburn that night).

Just a quick note about my Primary class: I teach the 8-9 year olds, and the boys in my class have decided that their new favorite word is "smitten." I think they think it's a naughty word because they hunch over and giggle every time I say it...

The highlight of our week thus far was making 60 individual servings of fried ice cream for our ward's Activity Days Cinco de Mayo party. I give Jon full credit for figuring out 1) how to fit 60 balls of ice cream in our freezer at once, and 2) how to get said balls of ice cream to the church (15 minute drive) without melting them. At least they were a huge hit that night (meaning we didn't have to take a single one home).

Today our day is dedicated to finishing all the little projects we need to do before we leave for HAWAII TOMORROW. I have to be honest--my excitement level dropped a big notch when I found out the flight from LA to Honolulu is 5 1/2 hours long. Not to mention the 3 hour flight from Baltimore to Dallas, then the 3 hour flight from Dallas to LA... I'll be doing a lot of aisle-walking. And did you know that American Airlines doesn't give you ANY food for free? Not even peanuts? Not even on a 5 1/2 hour flight? Neither did I. Half our carry-on weight will now be snack food.

Next post will be coming from Waikiki Beach...

FINALLY

So I lied. Are you surprised? Because you shouldn't be. Just so you know, I did actually scan the pictures last night, so I didn't totally lie. Anyway...

Here it is: the long-awaited belly post, which I have been actively avoiding for a few months now. Why? Because of THIS:

This is my cute mom 9 months and 1 day pregnant with me. (Side note: Isn't that mu mu awesome? Thank heaven for cute maternity clothes nowadays). See that cute little belly? Well, considering the fact that I am basically just my mother's clone, I always assumed that I would have a cute little prego belly like her. After all, everything from my morning sickness to my second trimester burst of weight gain was identical to her experience. So why, then, at 28 weeks, do I look like THIS?

(I'm totally sucking it in, too).

I promise it looks a lot bigger in real life. Just ask the girls at church who keep sweetly commenting on how big I'm getting.

I have three excuses that I repeat to myself on a daily basis.

#1--I'm having a boy. My mom was (obviously) having a girl. Thus, we would carry our babies differently. I realize this is totally bogus, but I can believe whatever I want.

#2--My mom has a good inch and a quarter on me. She's 5' 8'', I'm 5' 7'' if I try really, really hard to be.

#3--I have an extremely short abdomen. As in I can't ride on go-carts because my ribcage starts rubbing against my hip bone (which is extremely painful, by the way). So there's really nowhere for this little boy to go but STRAIGHT OUT. And he's doing a marvelous job of it.

There you go. At least I don't look pregnant from the back (although I make Jon check every day just in case). I've got three months left, and frankly, I'm terrified. A large portion of this is probably because we haven't purchased a single baby item yet. Not even a bib. I hate shopping.

And no, our child still doesn't have a name. I made Jon study a baby name book while we were at Daniel & Wendy's, but that was a joke. So far he's stuck on names that sound like Roman generals (Thaddeus or Maximus) and "Desmond", which he likes solely because our child would be known as "Des Blood."

By the way, did you know that there is a tiny town in Pennsylvania called "Intercourse"? And that it is, ironically, populated mostly by the Amish? The things you learn when you get lost while picking up the lawnmower you bought off of Ebay.

Double Posts Today!

Aren't you lucky? You'd think I was trying to make up for something. Like the fact that I still haven't posted a belly picture even after bullying one out of Jennie. Ahem.

So here's my excuse:

Yep, that's my house. And Jon's scanner is still at our old apartment, so I can't upload the picture I need. However, our apartment will be emptied and cleaned on Saturday. THEREFORE, I absolutely WILL post a picture on Sunday.

In the meantime, here is a picture of the front of our house for Aaronhead. Not that he even checks my blog. That little tree out front had gigantic white blossoms on it, but I didn't manage to get a picture until they were gone. Oh, and the lawn looks a bit patchy since Jon had to cut it with a weed whacker (we don't have a lawn mower yet).
PS--I'm feeling slightly more affectionate toward the blue door.

Absolutely Terrifying

I consider myself to be a relatively tough girl. I don't mind snakes or rodents (crickets are another story). I love camping, hiking, and rock climbing. I don't panic at the sight of blood (ask Christine--she'll vouch for me). HOWEVER...there is one thing that absolutely terrifies me. It's so bad that I can't even watch. What is this horrible occurrence?

Watching my piano get moved down a flight of stairs.

Or two flights, as was the case this time.

In the past, I've hid myself in a room where I (hopefully) wouldn't be able to hear the sound of a piano crashing to the ground below. However, my mom demanded visual documentation of this event, so I pulled out the camera and prayed for the best. My friend Sommer and bro-in-law Timmy got to stand by me while I nervously laughed, snapped a few pictures, and then had to avert my eyes.Thanks to Jon's clever thinking (he had been having dreams about pianos crashing down stairs for the week previous), Dad Blood, who drove 6.5 hours to help us, and the fabulous men from our ward who showed up, the move was amazingly smooth and easy. My piano made it safely to its new home with just a few minor battle wounds.By the way, if you help us move my piano, we buy you and your family pizza and rootbeer floats for dinner. That way we don't feel guilty when we make you help move us again in 7-10 years.

Unlinked doesn't mean unloved...

You may have noticed that I dropped all my links to other people's blogs. This is not because I won't still be checking them WAY more often than I should--I just realized that I can just as easily view all the links in my Bookmarks folder without having to list them for all the world to see. Basically, I'm protecting all you people's privacy. Aren't I sweet? And I'm still debating whether or not I'm going to make this private. Don't worry--I'll give plenty of notice if I do.

Quick update: The house is still a disaster--deep cleaning is taking way longer than I anticipated. But we're in New York this weekend visiting Daniel (Jon's brother) & Wendy, so I can pretend that I don't have a house full of boxes to unpack when I get home. And I beat Jon at mini-golf today. It may have only been by one stroke, but if you've ever mini-golfed with Jon before, you'll realize that this is a huge accomplishment. As in I'm-hanging-the-scorecard-on-the-fridge type of accomplishment.

Called to Serve!

This is Aaronhead.

The first time I talked to him he told me I had a man voice. (Okay, he actually said that my voice was deeper than he expected, which is basically the same thing). He also insists on calling me "Megaman" which I still think is just a subtle way of poking fun at my voice. His birthday is the day before mine, and two days before Jon's, which makes him automatically awesome. On May 27th of this year, Aaronhead will turn 19. Which means, in Mormon world, that's he's going on a mission. Last night he got his call. And the winner is...

Chile Vina del Mar Mission!

He reports August 13th, which may or may not allow him to meet this baby who may or may not be named after him. We're very excited for him, and very proud. Congratulations, Aaron!

Ten Billion Pictures

If you don't care what our new house looks like, you can just stop reading here. For anyone who does, here are the pictures! This should give you a general idea. If the layout is confusing, you can come visit us and we'll give you a grand tour.

Upstairs
Master Bedroom, Upstairs Bath (there's only one upstairs), My Beautiful Tub

Hallway, Bedroom 1, Bedroom 2

Main Level
Stairwell, Entry Bathroom, Living Room

Full shot of kitchen/dining room, another view of kitchen, breakfast nook (and all our stuff)

View from our deck (off the dining room)Basement
Stairwell (I was too lazy to move the suitcase), Bathroom, Laundry Room
Family Room, Another view, 4th Bedroom, Our "Backyard"

So there you go. We're excited to finally be moving in on Saturday. In the meantime, I'm scrubbing walls and baseboards (I am my mother's daughter after all). Oh, and a slight disclaimer--I know those two bedrooms are really cute, but they're not going to stay like that. It's just not my style (especially the baseball lamp/fan). I want something more neutral and classic, not crafty/country style.

This last picture is just to give some perspective. This is the view from our dining room window. What you're seeing is our neighbor's deck, less than 10 feet away. The joy of living in a townhome...

Life is crazy...

Yes, we are still alive. Tired, but alive. After a few unexpected complications yesterday, we were able to close on our house this morning! Yay! And now I'm exhausted and am going to take a nap. Just thinking about cleaning, packing, moving, and painting makes me want to sleep for 12 straight hours.

Posting may be sparse for the next two months--we'll be busy moving into our house, plus I've taken up teaching piano again (I'm nuts, I know). Add four callings on top of that, and getting ready for a baby...yikes. But then we get to spend two glorious weeks in Hawaii without ANY of that.

Side note: I think the church should automatically release new moms from their callings for at least 4 weeks prior to their due date and 6 weeks after. So I guess it wouldn't be a "release", just a "don't feel guilty about pawning your responsibilities off on someone else" break. By the way, any tips on being ward organist with a newborn? Adrian? Christine?