Music Monday

Oh bloggity blog blog, how I hath forsaken thee!

It has been crazy busy around here, what with time off for Hubba-hubba and hanging with friends, as well as my teenaged cousins being here from Arizona, which causes all of us to do many "touristy" things we wouldn't normally do. Or even just get out of the house more often than we normally would, becauase we want them to be happy, and teenagers are happy to go shopping and the beach and pretty much where ever you want to take them.

So, still too much going on, although I have gotten a nice burst of energy just in time for the girls' arrival. I can actually do more than lay on my bed and moan. Kidding, I would just lay on the bed, minus the moaning part. Most of the time.

Mr. P begins camp this week, and for the next three weeks he will be spending a blissful four hours a day hiking and making crafts and whatever the hell else they do at camp. He loves it, although it is going to be damn hot, so I hope they modify the schedule for that.

As for today's music, I've been hankering for some classic 80's, and you can never go wrong with the band that pretty much started the whole thing, Roxy Music.

This song was released in 1979, and just look at Bryan Ferry with his skinny tie and boxy suit jacket! A trailblazer! And the Nagel-looking girls! What cracks me up is the unconvincing harp players. I can see the producer now, "I don't care if you can play the harp, just fake it and look sexy, no one will care!"

I was telling Hubba-hubba that I still own the original album Flesh + Blood, which was released in 1980. I wondered if it was worth anything, and according to Ebay it is worth maybe around ten bucks.

Guess I'll have to wait longer to buy that mansion.

Music Monday

Ah now, you can't blame a pregnant woman for taking the lazy way out and posting a Michael Jackson video, can you?

I was never a huge fan of MJ, although I certainly can acknowledge his talent. Thriller came out just as I was hitting my musical stride, and I have to say I resented it for all the attention it got over my more alternative musical favorites. I did truly enjoy Billie Jean, though.

I definitely liked his early stuff better, and I think he definitely peaked with Thriller. The older he got, the more I hated looking at what he had become, and I don't know why plastic surgeons kept agreeing to alter his face.

This song is from Off the Wall, and one that makes me dance no matter what is going on.

Music Monday

Summer is here, and you can tell because my house is a complete disaster. I don't know how he does it, but in a very short amount of time, Mr. P manages to scatter a million things all over the floor. I try not to let it bother me too much, but when it devolves into a match of wills to get it picked up, my patience goes out the door.

Patience is definitely not one of my virtues, lately. I'm lucky that it hasn't gotten that hot, but now that I have written that, I have doomed myself to 90+ degree temps for the duration of my pregnancy.

For today's Music Monday, I'll take you back to the early 80's. One of the records I listened to the most was introduced to me by, of course, my father. I think a litle later he got a cassette tape, and I began listening to that more, simply because it was easier to rewind my favorite songs. But I pretty much listened to all of them, and I would screech along to the lyrics, because I am an alto, and Lou Gramm is a definite tenor. Sorry for the lame-ass video, but this had the best sound quality.

Friday Poll

Do you use Chapstick, Blistex, Vaseline, or something else to moisten your lips?

Friday Poll

And the craziness continues....

What is your favorite museum?

Ah, it is Wednesday and I have yet to write anything here this week.

Boo.

To give you an example of how distracted I am lately, I will tell you the tale of two trash cans.

Because of the placement of our neighbor's driveway, they place their trash cans in front of our place. Whatever.

Last week after the trash had been picked up, I was backing up out of our garage and Mr. P yelled, "Don't go, there are trash cans in the way!" Well, we were running a tad late for school and I figured the child just meant that a trashcan was sort of blocking the exit. Well darn if I couldn't even see the damn things as they were right behind my car! So I wound up knocking two of them over.

Shit.

So I jump (exaggeration as me at 17 weeks pregnant does not "jump" anywhere) out and pull them into our garage so as to be able to get out.

And for the entire week after, there has been a lone trash can sitting there, with no home to go to. I kept moving it into the neighbor's driveway, but they kept moving it back in front of my house. Which was pissing me off, because it wasn't my trash can.

I was talking to another neighbor and asked if she knew whose trash can it could be. Well, she didn't but she said she would call the city, as each trash can has a serial number on it.

So she calls me and says, "The lady from the city said that the trash can was linked to the address XXXXX." Uh, wait, that's my address!

Turns out I had taken the wrong trash can, and the one sitting out lonely and bereft was mine the whole time. Meanwhile, the neighbor's can was sitting in my garage.

Ooops.

I never liked them anyway.

Friday Poll

Things are rolling along, next week is Mr. P's last week of school. Lots of things to do and seemingly not enough time to do them.

How do you sleep? Your stomach, back, side? Combination of all three?

Percentages (A Novel)

For almost a month now, my life has been consumed with percentages. And I hate math.

There is some prenatal testing that is available to women in California, known here as the Triple Screen.

As an old woman at 38, I was highly advised to partake in the Triple Screen, although I will say I was never forced. And I thought to myself, it's just a little blood test, right?

Well, that little blood test has made my life hell ever since.

I got the call on a Wednesday. Even though I didn't get to the phone in time to answer and nothing specific was said in the message, my heart sank because I had been told that I would only be contacted if it was bad news.

I was told that I had crappy PAPP-A levels, which factored in with my age, gave me a 1 in 38 chance of having a baby with a chromosomal defect.

Whaaaa?

No need to tell me now that percentage-wise, 1 in 38 isn't horrifically bad. I didn't think of it that way. All I could think of was 38 women standing in a room, and one of them having horrible, horrible luck. Possibly me.

The odds seemed really, really crappy.

Then Hubba-hubba broke out a calculator and told me that 1 in 38 meant a 2.6 percent chance of an abnormality. Before the blood test, my odds had been 1 in 146. Not exactly encouraging.

So off I go to become consumed with finding out as much information as I can about low PAPP-A levels and the effects of it on pregnancy, including complications and chromosomal abnormalities.

Me, the person who loathes math with all of her being, suddenly became obsessed with odds, percentages, and numbers.

I had an amniocentesis scheduled because I couldn't stand not knowing, even though I hadn't finished the last part of the Triple Screen. I knew that the accuracy rating was only 75% (see, one of the many percentages I have memorized!) but I was seriously getting messed up. What if my baby had something wrong? How would I prepare? What exactly would I do? What would this mean for our family? And on and on and on... There was also the fact that I had a much higher chance for miscarrying before the 24th week, which didn't make me feel better, either.

The day before I was scheduled for the amnio, I had some light bleeding, which I have had off and on throughout this pregnancy. Another stressor, let me tell you. I did some quick research, and found that if I were to do the amnio after my history of recent bleeding, I would be putting myself at a higher risk for complications after the amnio.

After talking with my doctor, we decided not to proceed with the amnio, but to do a Level II ultrasound, where the doctor takes many detailed measurements of the fetus to see if there are any so-called "soft markers" for chromosomal abnormalities.

She found not one.

To say I felt better was an understatement, but then did more research and found that the lack of soft markers didn't necessarily mean a lack of chromosomal abnormality. So back to being anxious I went.

I also completed the last part of the Triple Screen that day, and was again told that I would be contacted if something came out funky.

I got the call today. I couldn't bring myself to answer the phone and instead sat there, cursing as I heard her leave a number to call her back.

Except, even though one of my levels was off, a key one was normal, and my odds were suddenly at 1 in 200 instead of 1 in 38. The odds of accuracy are now at 90%.

Call me optimistic, but I'll take a .5% chance over 2.6% any day of the week.

Friday Poll

This question is a personal one, one that Hubba-hubba and I debate all the time. You see, he is incapable of doing it, and his are the type that rattle the dang windows.

Can you hold in your sneezes?


PS They are pretty sure it's a girl!

Music Tuesday

All right, so it doesn't have that same alliteration-y sound.

But, since yesterday was a holiday, I'll move it to today. Oh, and by the way, I hit my first golf balls ever outside of a miniature course on Saturday, and I did really well. Perhaps I missed my true atheletic calling.

As for today's video, I can dance. Not terrifically, but not like Elaine, either. I've always had an appreciation for real dancers and their devotion to their craft.

These two men are sure to brighten your day. Not exactly a music video, but amazing nonetheless.



Ooops! To anyone on a feed reader, you saw a naughty pic of Burt Reynolds! My bad!