I have eaten a really big grocery store deli pickle that Joel got for me on the road back from Seattle because I was feeling awful. Too awful for a pickle even, but you can't pass on a giant grocery store pickle like unto the ones that I would travel via rollerblading down Shaw (was that the street?) in Clovis to get in my youth. I saved it for today.
I painted my nails at my desk, again.
I am relishing the comfort of a new (usually very expensive) bra that I got at Ross for $10.
My boss told me that I look pregnant today with a big smile.
I wondered why I already look a little pregnant when my cousin's wife who is a good month+ ahead of me posted on her blog that she looked normal until just now. I know, we are all different, blah, blah, blah. Is it so wrong that I just want some kind of concrete guide that will tell me EXACTLY how MY pregnancy will progress. I didnt think so.
I am still smiling about the older gentleman reading on the MAX yesterday in his suit and cat-eye, tiger-striped bifocals that are usually reserved for that spunky looking grandma with the sorta spiky short hair that is dyed a shade of burgandy. You know the one.