Mood:
lazyMysteries of the occult....
1) Who is responsible for adding this book to our camp library?
I suspect my aunt-who-used-to-live-in-Australia, but as usual nothing can be proved. It certainly wasn't me. My copy has David on the cover and DOES NOT LEAVE THE HOUSE.
2) What are the odds of flipping on the television to the local cable access station, which usually shows washtub polka bands, spelling bees, and school board meetings, and finding Brett Kirk being interviewed?
If you live in New England, the odds are pretty good. I had to think for a minute about where I'd seen Brett Kirk before:
He's the retired captain of the Sydney Swans and is now an Australian Footy ambassador, travelling the world to bring the sport to other countries. He and his family have been to places like Iceland, Catalonia, South Africa, and Papua New Guinea to help establish and promote Aussie Rules football. A couple of weeks ago he stopped off in Boston to provide color commentary for a game between the Boston Demons and Florida Redbacks, who play in the American AFL league. For the first time, I got to watch an entire game, not just a few confusing 15-second snippets of hurtling bodies. Brett Kirk cleared up some of the mysteries of the game (like why the ball is sometimes red and sometimes yellow, why a "mark" is a good thing, and what all those sticks at the end of the field are for). It was mesmerizing. I hated to rip myself away to go get the oil changed in the car. However, the games are shown every Saturday on that same local cable access station, so I'll definitely be tuning in. Keep an eye out in case he travels your way!
*****
In the twin realm, Russet and Yukon are coming along just fine. They each weigh close to 4 pounds now, which is about the equivalent of one full-term baby (and there's still 6 more weeks to go). I believe the law requires a maximum weight/occupancy sticker to be prominently posted inside my uterus, sort of like an elevator, but you wouldn't know it from the way they keep jumping up and down. Yukon has been head-down the whole time, while Russet keeps flipping back and forth into weird and exotic new positions (he was "transverse footling breech" at the last checkup, which I think means he's trying to spell out all four letters of Y-M-C-A simultaneously).
I'm not used to having a belly sticking way out in front of me. When I sleep, it lies next to me like a puppy. I keep bonking it into things, inadvertently soaking up crescent-shaped puddles off the edge of restroom sinks, and getting stuck in spaces that I used to be able to squeeze through freely (like, between the shopping cart and the gum rack in the checkout lane at the supermarket). I guess it's not really that huge for an 8 month belly - I've gained a whopping 15 pounds so far - but it seems enormous. It certainly would not pass the 300 six-pack test (at this point, it's more like a keg). It's as if I've got a heavy watermelon strapped around my stomach. A heavy watermelon containing two small, ferocious, wrestling ferrets. Yukon gets hiccups constantly, which drives Russet insane. After awhile Russet starts flailing at his brother, then Yukon starts kicking, and pretty soon there's a cage match going on. I look down at all the heaving and lurching, and try not to think of Alien.
Also, I can feel myself getting dumber and dumber as the pregnancy goes along. I read somewhere that you lose 10 IQ points with every month of pregnancy. You'd better believe it. The other day, in the shower, I tried to wash myself with a candle. Then I put away the cereal inside the refrigerator, and the milk in the cabinet. Then I got to work and discovered my shirt was on backwards and inside out. Pretty soon I'm going to end up like Elaine on Seinfeld, watching the tires go round and round at the gas station and clapping my hands.
Me will try write blog posts while still can operate laptop. Spluh.
