Only A Mere Woman

Went through an equine phase, some of which turned out pretty well.           Nicknames can be a wonderful part of life, a symbol of the affection one person has for another, albeit ofttimes a bit teasingly.  My first one came from my brother and his inability to pronounce "Jennifer" when he was young, so for a while I was "Fuffer".  Kinda cute, no?  Dad is the only one who still uses it, mostly in it's shortened form "Fuff", though often he incorporates it into my name making "Jennifuffer".  I use "Fuff" to sign my artwork, but my skill is rather juvenile so you don't need to look out for it in the museums or art shows.   Tigger with Eeyore. Eeyore was always my favorite though.           In my high school years, once I came out of my depressed shell (I'll write about it someday), I acquired two more nicknames:  "Psycho" and "Tigger".  "Psycho" came from my first year of basketball...

          So, for those who must be *dying* to know who is coming in October, here is your update.  Joseph Benedict will be welcomed into our arms in October!  The ultrasound was good, though I was a bit, um, stressed when we arrived because we were late, and there were dire warnings about the results of being late.  But it all turned out well in the end, though we still have no clue as to how adorable our boy is, because it turned out he was a bit camera shy.  And has no apparent clue about modesty, so the only (2) pictures we have are proof of his masculinity, but that is about it.  Hence no photographic evidence shall be posted.  I'm glad he is a boy - I have long thought that a boy as oldest would be, well, ideal.  There is something about a well-raised oldest boy, and his subsequent brothers, that makes for excellent men.  Plus it means I get to put off the dolls and princesses and "you be the mommy" and such that see...

          I'm vaguely aware that I have heard the term "navel gazing" before, but more recently encountered it on one of the blogs I follow, though I can't remember which one.  It took a little while before the funniness of the phrase set in - I do it a lot!  Not because I am really all that self absorbed, but because my bellybutton is undergoing quite the change at the moment.  Actually, my whole belly is.  This whole pregnancy thing is rather new, foreign, and different for me.  I was too little to remember when Mum was expecting either of my siblings, so I haven't had much experience of it.  Anyway, watching my belly button slowly loose depth, and knowing it is eventually going to completely reverse itself is something else entirely.  I've always been and in-y, but soon enough I'm going to experience what it is like to be an out-y too.  I'm glad to see my belly getting bigger, and the number on the scale going up, too. ...

          It seems that when one is expecting, especially with a first, one inevitable question is going to be "Are you going to find out what you're having?"  A reasonable question, in this day and age I suppose.  I personally have gone from "No" to "I wouldn't be opposed to knowing" to "I absolutely think it is a good idea to know."            Growing up, Mum always said that babies only come in two kinds, and don't you want to be surprised when the baby finally arrives?  Of course, there was always the "What if they are wrong?" factor that she also brought up, which made a really good argument for not having a baby shower until after  the baby is born - much less likely to have a bunch of girl clothes for your little boy to wear.  And yes, they can be wrong.  A couple of years ago (or maybe a few more) a cousin of mine was informed they were having a girl, and when the day came, weren't they surpris...

          I was young, the first time I decided to run away, somewhere not much older than 8, I don't think.  My siblings and I were going to meet at midnight, get our packed and hidden things out of my closet, and book it for the woods somewhere.  Now, this desire didn't stem from the unbearableness of our childhood at the time, but more from a sense of adventure.  We didn't get very far - I fell asleep in my closet waiting for my brother and sister, who themselves couldn't have been much older than 5 and 4, respectively.              The second time I was bound and determined to run away, I was somewhere around 13, and that time it was to show my parents.  I'm not sure what I was gonna be showing them, but I do remember the "that'll show 'em" feeling.  It was winter, and I was supposed to clean out the dog pen before the next day, or I wouldn't be allowed to do something, though I can't remember what...

          So, the car is in need of an oil change, and since I'm the one who isn't terribly busy with like, work, during the day, it has fallen to me to find someplace to get it done.  Now, I'm not really looking forward to this because 1) it will involve talking to strangers about a service needed, 2) which quite possibly could lead to me looking ignorant and vulnerable, and most irksome, 3) changing the oil is something I am capable of doing myself.  For the most part, I try to avoid situations which involve 1 & 2 as much as I can - email works wonders for that, most of the time.  I just love the impersonalness of it; sure, I might still look the fool, but at least I can't prove it.  When email fails, the next best thing is to get as personal as we can, and actually talk in person.  Quite a jump, I know, and I totally forgot the phone, right?  Not really - it has been my experience that talking on the phone is less reliable th...