Friday, November 07, 2008

Dispatches from the Uterus

I have met with my boss and informed him that the Uterine Deadline is February 28, after which I am under no circumstances willing or able to travel 1100 miles to defend my !@#$! thesis. And that putting together a paper, a thesis and a defense while caring for a small infant is doomed to tears and failure. So could we please hurry it along and where the bloody hell is my collaborator's !@#$% data? Thank you.

My brother-in-law Army Green (Dr. S's brother) is, as you may recall, intending to marry a Chinese women whom he has met exactly twice. She finally has a visa interview. If it takes her N months to wrap up her affairs in China, and M months, once here, to execute a wedding, where M<3 by government fiat, will N+M+November fall within two weeks of the baby's due date? Magic 8 ball says 'chances look good'. Ergh.

We (by which I mean I) have decided that the beanlet is henceforth Pumpkin. They come in various sizes, they're orange, and they taste good. What more could a girl want?

We've finally picked names. [Boy name] bears no resemblance to our dead relatives, who were all named unfortunate things like Maurice and Alger or Wilbur. (If this is your name, I apologize; they are not among our personal favorites.) [Girl name] is hotly contested between myself and my middle sister; the one with the first girl gets the name, which is a lovely flower name belonging to our late great-grandmother. Middle name is for Dr. S's very elderly grandmother, on the grounds that she'd enjoy a namesake more while she's still alive to, you know, enjoy it.

Pumpkin would like to add: Thump, thump thump, wiggle wiggle, THUMP (oof), thump.