So this weekend was pretty busy. I found that having a weird cold/throat thing produced an aversion to the sweet nectar known as Jameson's Irish Whiskey. I had planned on taking a few swigs here and there to help break up the congestion in my chest, (not to mention the nice warm feeling it produces on cold wintery days) But I only made it to one small nip. Once the golden liquid made it past my lips the burn was incredible! My throat was being scraped with shards of broken glass while boiling acid simultaneously poured down into my stomach. Needless to say, after a sharp explicative shot from my gib I realized it would be foolish to consume more of the whiskey. Damn. It was cold as the arctic outside, and in some rooms inside, (the wife has been hot these past 32 weeks, and prefers the heat to be kept at around 65 degrees) and I could take none of my "medicine" to help warm me up and ward off the effects of winter.
I feel much better now, and it IS quite cold out tonight...
On monday the lovely wife and I had a visit with the baby doc. Everything is cool. The doc said that all the wife's numbers and measurements were perfect. We got to hear the sprout's heartbeat again, and all is strong and well. The wife expressed concerns about sore hips and crampy feelings, and the doc explained that as time progresses, the uterus begins to expand, making more room for the sprout, and also providing him/her with an easier exit. The doc told the wife that those two symptoms are pretty common in the 32nd(!) week. She then told us what to expect on the night we go to the hospital, how to contact her when the time arrives, and some general info. on what physical evidence should prompt us to motor to the hospital, like contractions, water breaking, and serious cramping.
Just when I had settled in and become comfortable with the inevitable, the doc has to give me New things to worry about...
Sunday at about 2p.m., the lovely wife and I went to visit her parents in order to participate in the annual anniversary dinner/decking of the in-laws halls. For as long as I have known my lovely wife, we have joined my sister and brother-in law at my mother and father-in law's house to decorate for Christmas. They would rather we join them for dinner and decorating than receive gifts for their anniversary. This is all fine and good, but they have about 50 plastic bins (the 10 gallon type) full of christmas crap they have accumulated over the years from all sorts of people. And they pretty much want it ALL crammed into the living room. Now each of the in-law's kids feel obligated to carry out this impossible task, because it makes their parents happy, and it happens to be their anniversary gift. All that is fine and dandy, but all the stuff contained within the bins just aint gonna fit in that one room without looking kinda- well, tacky.
I mean, there are wax and wood nativity scenes, (Jesus Houses as I called them and was quickly corrected) ornaments from what? 1974 (Literally), tiny villages, stuffed animals, a saxophone playing dancing Santa (Bill Clinton Claus), 200 candles, pine cones, about 10 trees, and all manner of Ohio State Buckeye Christmas decorations (C'mon!) which happen to be the worst of them all in my eyes. I cannot properly describe the breadth of the ornaments/decorations contained within those bins, but I can honestly say that there are at nearly 2000 items Expected to be used to decorate for Christmas at the in-laws. Let's just say that Christmas fanatical pack rats are definitely NOT the types you want to spend time decorating for/with during the holidays.
O.k. O.k.- You got me. I MAY have embellished a bit, and I know that Christmas IS their favorite holiday, AND it really isn't the pain in the rear that I make it out to be. I'm just a smart ass by nature, and I just don't want to actually ADMIT to liking corny traditions. Although it IS kinda neat to hear and see them admire how nice and Christmasy their house looks when we've finished...
Until tomorrow for the third and final part of the weekends activities.
christmas tree purchasing