Minnesota "Nice", Down and Dirty

"You Know You're Pregnant When..."

This morning, I opened up my Yahoo email to see how many people love me, and how many emails I had received overnight (nobody loves me, other than Gap.com, weatherchannel.com, and the like--*sniff*).  These days, I'm used to *most* of the spam going to the spam inbox, and I'm also getting daily "pregnancy update" emails from various sites as well.

Today I got two of them mixed up.

The first new email in my box was titled, "Gain up to 4+".  And, I was thinking, "Wow, I guess I'm not the only one who is struggling with GAINING weight in pregnancy!  How nice that I would get an email with suggestions on how to gain weight (hopefully healthfully)! 

Open email.

Um...earth to Susan. That would be gaining up to 4+ INCHES to your PENIS, of which you have NONE! Riiiiiiight.  Most other women really don't have trouble gaining weight when they are 22 weeks pregnant--BE REAL! Not to mention the fact that *most* people would have known immediately that it was a penis size spam email.  DUH. Pay attention! Lesson learned.  And, of course, one of today's emails was titled, "How much weight gain is too much?". *Sigh* 

I suppose you can partially blame my oversight on my current state of sheer exhaustion. I really do need to go back to bed.  You can also blame that age-old issue of "pregnancy brain". I'm not sure if it's a real phenomenon or not, but lately it sure seems to be!  Either way, I'm an idiot.  And, I'm more than willing to share my idiocy with my readers for your amusement.

Oh, and any suggestions on how to start packing on the pounds would be marvelous.  I feel like I'm eating constantly, and I just lost the 3 pounds I gained last week in Florida. Perhaps it was the dessert! Bring on the chocolate cake??

Innate Disability vs. Innate Ability

First off, I must say that I grew up with a cousin who had Down's Syndrome.  Now this kid was hilarious, and a treat to all of us in the family.  He was very highly functioning, and would do things just to make people laugh.  Well, we laughed anyway, and so did he, so I assumed him to be doing things on purpose.

Before I tell you about how I am much more "retarded" than my sweet cousin David could have ever been, let me tell you more about him.  David was a little older than my brother, though I'm not 100% sure how much older. Maybe just over a year? Yes, I think so. He was born June 25, and I think it was 1968 or 1969 (little help here, Mom?!).  Anyway, David played the cello.  Just him saying that he played the cello would make me laugh. Don't ask me why.  He also aspired to be a cheerleader, so every time I was in his company, he would "cheer" me up with a cheer!  "H-U-M-B-O-L-D-T!! Humboldt, Humboldt...YAAAAAY Humboldt!"  Oh, did that boy ever cheer me.  He would get out his pom-poms, and cheer for quite a while.  When he was done, he would entertain us with various songs, mostly of the "Wizard of Oz" variety.

David's knowledge of Judy Garland (aka "Dorothy") exceeds that of any historian, let me tell you.  And, his memory...wow, his memory.  When his parents would leave him alone in the house (seriously, he was high-functioning, and this was when he was older), David would call all of us relatives (all of whom lived an expensive long-distance call away), and just start chatting away.  He had MEMORIZED everyone's phone numbers!! My parents finally got privy to his un-chaperoned calls, and would ask if his parents were there.  If they weren't, they would do their best to shorten the call, so as to not irritate his parents with a huge phone bill. 

I had David as one of my ushers for my (first) wedding.  I HAD to have him as an usher.  And, he was just so cute in his tiny, little tuxedo.  I am 5'9" and with heels, I am quite tall, and he just was miniaturized next to me.  It was impossible for me to not pick him up and twirl him around on the dance floor that night.  I would say he was my best dance partner.  Ever. Seriously, if you ever have the chance to pick up a person with Down's Syndrome and dance with them, it will make your day, or week, or year!  He made me laugh so much!

Sadly, 4 months after that ill-fated wedding (I should have taken it as an omen), David suddenly died.  He was 28.  I only  have fond memories of David, other than when his dog, Scamp, bit him in the mouth. Even though I was a dog-lover, I wanted Scamp to die.  You do not bite David.  And, Scamp was kind of a mean, crabby dog, so I was very upset about that episode.  Of course...David still loved Scamper, even after being bitten...he was so sweet!

Now onto me.  Each day when I do something ridiculously clumsy, I realize that I have NO disorder which causes the reason for my clumsiness.  And, I realize that even with David's "limits", he did far fewer dumb things than I have (both physical and in decision-making).  And, he was always so, so happy. 

My latest dumb thing was this:  I was trying to get the kids to hustle up last Thursday so we wouldn't be late to soccer practice.  So, I clapped my hands loudly to get their attention to snap to it!  Wouldn't you know it...I clapped wrong (David never clapped wrong, but probably because he got so much practice!), hit my pinkie to my big, heavy wedding ring, and must have hit the nerve just right. Because it HURT.  Not only that, but my pinkie went numb too!  Numb and dumb.  A week later, my pinkie is still partially numb.  Can you believe that?!?! 

I'm thinking that what I really needed, is for David to have remained in my life, so I could have asked his opinion on all my life's decisions.  For some reason, I think he would have gotten it right a lot more often than I have.  And, he wouldn't have hurt himself when clapping his hands.  As far as I'm concerned, David was far from "handicapped".

Ah...The Sounds of the Season

The cooler weather.  The smell of pencil shavings.  The large backpacks filled with books, writing utensils and fundraising materials (if you need any chocolate or wrapping paper, let me know...it's for da kids y'all!).  The beginning of the football season.  The lining up of children for the school bus.  All these things remind me of...

Marching band!

That's right, yo.  I remember years ago, all of the fun of marching band.  Sure, it's a nerdy extra-curricular activity, but until you've done it at NHS, you have never known such nerdy fun.  I swear most of the people I knew who were IN band were pretty much in it for either marching band or jazz band.  Except Deimerly, of course, but that's another story.

I thought it was so fun, because we'd get all geared up on a cool, dewy morning, get our instruments, and prepare ourselves for some goofy parade or another.  I don't remember marching in many parades (one or two of the now-defunct Town and Country Festivals and maybe the Pella Tulip Festival?), but for some reason our band director thought it would be good to practice marching and playing.  Through town.

Granted, Norwalk isn't a large town, so it wasn't dangerous to be marching and playing all around town.  Very little traffic, very little anything (at that time, anyway).  What I always wondered was, how many people were super-pissed off by the sheer loudness we brought through the sleepy little town.  I mean, band was first thing in the morning, so we're talking like 8:30 or something.  Pure morning mayhem. It was absolutely hilarious and fun.  Even if Tim Squier spent the entire time tormenting me (I hear he's a priest or something now...he ought to be ashamed of his prior behavior!!).

What made me think of marching band this morning was the fact that I kept hearing the rhythmic beat of drums as I sat here working.  It was kind of off in the distance, as though either a neighbor was practicing loudly in their home, or perhaps the high school marching band was practicing at the nearby park. I can often hear cheering from softball games and the like, so it wasn't too far off the mark. 

I am working upstairs, Kevin is working downstairs. I IM'd him to ask, "Hey, do you hear the drums?  I have been hearing them on-and-off all morning.  It's kind of cool!".  He claimed that he couldn't hear a thing, but he was downstairs, so I figured he just couldn't hear as well as me.  I just kept hearing the drums in varying tones every so often, but rather regularly.  So reminiscent!

When Kevin came up to raid the fridge for some grub, I said excitedly (seriously, I was so excited), "LISTEN! There it is!! They must be near!".  He said, "Do you hear the wind chimes too?".  I said, "of course!".  He opens up the sliding glass door onto the deck, walks over to a chair and moves it around a little bit.  He says, "Is this what the 'drums' sound like?". 

Yup. Wind blowing chairs with uneven legs.  I'm so embarrassed.  We both were DYING laughing!  Oh, what would he do if he didn't have me?