a response to your query

recalling the blog author's earlier days, you may have recently asked yourself, "what has this little thing been up to lately?"

well, she has been

getting more not-so-little every day

attending birthing class with the husband ("they should call it the 'really, you will just be terrified after we show you all these gross videos' seminar," harrumphs the little one.)

(they call this the empathy belly.)

getting her weekly ultrasounds and semiweekly non-stress tests

(we call this the baby's dinosaur face.)

wondering where her ankles, feet and toenail polish have gone

wondering where her mind has gone

having a few emotional breakdowns

letting her house become a huge mess

breaking her promise to no longer post photos of her pregnant self

and wondering if the doctor will tell her on monday that the baby can come out next week ("come on!" cries the little one. "she is 37 weeks! that's full term! and she was estimated at 7 pounds 8 ounces at the last ultrasound!")

and now you might wonder, "but really, after that recap, what doctor in his right mind would let this woman care for an infant?"

beats me.

wishing and hoping

at a recent appointment, my doctor told me i only have to make it three more weeks before the baby is considered full term. since they are worried she will get too big with my diabetes, it sounds like they won't be letting her stay in there much past that. weekly ultrasounds and non-stress tests are doing all the hard work to configure that business.

on my end, i have decided i am officially done photographing my pregnant self after taking this dandy photo.

not seen in this photo: aching back, enormously swollen feet and ankles, general discomfort, lack of sleep, and constant angst about little one growing too big/breathing right/coming out too early/staying in too long/terror of delivery. but i know that she is the answer to so many of our prayers, and i feel so at peace about everything -- and i know that is the answer to so many of your prayers. thank you for that.

i hope next time you see my face it will be glowing with the excitement of the safe arrival of little one (aka the only thing getting cuter in this pregnancy).

poltergeist or angel of virtue?

so here i sit, adoring how cute my little computer looks propped on a trunk next to my typewriter, when i hear hell's fury in the background.

see, i do very little without background noise. it used to be music. now it is mostly hgtv. anyway, the tv starts this crazy rasping and it looks like scratchies. and suddenly i fear for this.

i ponder: is there, in fact, truth to the idea that demons could try to reach me through my beloved television set?

and then i realize that this poltergeist actually interrupted kathy griffin's my life on the d list. i suppose i had invited as many irritating, narcissistic demons as one actually gets through television. 

bless you, interrupted cable connection.

violated

i guess i should have seen it coming. i mean, when i think of david sedaris, sensitive and uplifting aren't quite the first two terms that come to mind. but when i heard he was coming to boise to promote his new book, i knew i had to check it out.

so, today after class, i unknowingly headed off to my local Hastings (an incredibly unlikely place for a new york times best selling author to show up, but i'm not complaining). i picked up a copy of the newest book. i laughed at the reading. after all, making coffee out of water from an arrangement of wildflowers is unceasingly humorous. i find david sedaris's voice oddly soothing--perhaps because i have grown so accustomed to listening to it on This American Life? whatever reason for this comfort, i felt i had made a great decision for my evening.

i have never tried to get a book signed before (i'm usually cranky by the time they get to signings), but i had this delusional idea that it may have actually gone quickly, so i got in line. for two and a half hours. this is in addition to the forty-five minutes spent standing during the reading (not that i--and my feet!--am/are complaining). luckily i had my dear friend jana, my cousin jake, and his beautiful wife rachel to keep me company.

i finally got to the front of the line, with pained feet and emotinal fatigue, and realized i didn't really have anything to say. no worries, david took it from there. staring relentlessly at my chest, he simply said, "Rebecca, what nice breasts you have."

"what?" i reply incredulously

"well, i mean, i'm no expert or anything" (in case you don't know, david sedaris is gay) "but you have seriously nice breasts."

he has still failed to look at my face once.

i instantly turned bright red. at this point in time, jake and rachel started cracking up. everyone in line can tell how obviously uncomfortable this comment has made me, so they all start laughing. i don't think i had ever been this mortified in my life... until he started writing this astute observation on the title page of my book.

"please," i plead, "please don't write that in my book."

"rebecca," he said, "they won't be nice forever..."

and so it is. eternally preserved for my grandchildren to lovingly cherish generations down the road. i don't think i have ever experienced such a mixture of mortification, flattery, and hilarity.

the job hunt begins

now that jesse has made his decision for his future education, and we have an idea of where we are headed for the next few years, the time has come for me to begin the dreaded job hunt.

while i am looking forward to this new chapter of our lives, let me be clear: i hate looking for jobs.

there is something incredibly nerve-wracking about trying to find a position that i will enjoy, that will use my education and my so-called "skill-set," and that will provide decent pay and--most importantly--health benefits. even more annoyingly, i hate drafting overly confident letters of application and listing out my many brilliant qualities (brilliant as i may be).

as i work through this process, i have learned that i am not good at selling myself. i am sure my mother will be relieved.

on a lighter note, here is a list of qualities i wish were appropriate for a résumé:

• Outstanding internet shopping skills
• Mediocre attempts at cooking
• Ability to prevent small children from placing even smaller toys in my husband's guitar
• Stellar laundry-folding and organizing skills
• Total inability to find multiple terms for "skills" that people would actually use

you know how it goes.

i've become popular! i mean... been tagged!

i have finally been tagged by my friend rachel to answer the following questions about myself. here goes...

What were you doing ten years ago?

ten years ago i was 13 years old. i was in eighth grade and in the middle of my incredibly awkward stage. after being rejected for everything i tried out for (cheerleading, gymnastics, district musicals), i was hardcore into my junior high school journalism class (as i was certain i would grow up to be a hardcore journalist). i could sense that i didn't love pop music, but struggled to find other music (i had no mentor), so i listened to no doubt and smashing pumpkins constantly. it was also about ten years ago that i met jesse. wondering why he wasn't interested in me? check this out:



What were you doing five years ago?

five years ago i was in my second semester at byu-idaho. i had just been kicked out of my apartment (which i now wear like a badge of honor), but that was alright as i was pretty much living at the library anyway. i was spooning with one stephanie joy hawkins (now robertson) on a regular basis, and we were in the early stages of planning our spooning book. also, not to be debbie downer, but five years from saturday i lost my brother, cameron. that wasn't so fun.


Five things on my to-do list today:

1. clean apartment. check.
2. procrastinate homework. check.
3. respond to this tagging (almost check).
4. read Parzival.
5. watch Lost.


What snacks I enjoy:

i pretty much enjoy snacks in general. haribo mini frogs are tops. i also love me some apple slices and peanut butter, chips, cereal, raw broccoli with ranch, and always a diet soda.


What would I do if I suddenly became a billionaire?

give some away (jesse would insist that a huge chunk go to cancer research). go to law school and set up a killer nonprofit organization. put jesse through school. have a baby (hopefully?). buy a house. save some for the (future) little ones. donate the money for a new liberal arts building on the BSU campus.


Three bad habits?

1. i procrastinate (like most everyone)
2. i can be overly sensitive
3. i really like to snack


Five places I've lived:

1. idaho falls, id
2. rexburg, id
3. arlington, va
4. boise, id
5. yep, that's about it.

Five jobs I've had:

1. lawncare technician (i mowed lawns at a cemetery)
2. reading tutor (at byu-i)
3. adjunct instructor (at byu-i)/teaching assistant (at bsu)
4. constitutent services specialist (at the governor's office)
5. medical records specialist (at a crappy hospital)


Five things you don't know about me:

1. i really hate: unnecessarily competitive people (i didn't know life was always such a competition), insurance companies, and spiders.
2. i am diabetic and have a diet, as my husband would tell you, of rice and candy.
3. i am really burnt out. i love school, but i think i've reached my limit when it comes to english literary studies. at the same time, i don't think i'm completely done with school just yet... should be interesting to see what happens.
4. i'm wearing earrings shaped like pinecones right now.
5. i'm pretty much an open book.

i tag:

suzie, bitty, andrea, libby, jetta, and anyone else looking for something to blog about...

my celebrity look-alikes

apparently there are mixed results on this... what do you guys think? who am i?




and jesse's was just too funny. so i am including it also (without his prior knowledge--sorry honey!)

the french are glad to die for love

i was glad to mortify myself in front of my class on behalf of the (mrs.) french. sexy lexy. for any of you that attended skyline high school, hopefully you are aware of my halloween role model.

see, i tire very quickly of punk eighteen year-olds constantly telling me that their high school english teacher was really great and really knew what she was doing; therefore, any "advice" i may have about how to do their assignments is null and void. in a form of passive-aggressive retaliation, i elected to come to class as my high school english teacher for halloween (even though i was being evaluated that day... not the best idea?).

unfortunately, i now know how women with hot pink lipstick and moustaches are really treated in the world. apparently no one at boise state university appreciates halloween, and they thought i was being serious. i have never had so many uncomfortable looks in my entire life. a girl sat next to me on the bus, and said something. i looked up to respond, and she spent the rest of the bus ride staring intently at that speck of white stuff on the bus floor. for this purpose, i will be forming yet another organization: CCPMW (concerned citizens for the promotion of moustached women)


luckily, i finished the day off with the culinary delights of my sister, jilene. she earned full points for plating this dish. 'twas spooky, delicious, and certain to make any mouth (hot pink or otherwise becolored) satisfied.

a boo by any other name would smell as sweet

here is a list of what i am officiall addressed as all across my life:

rebecca lee jones
rebecca jones
rebecca davis
rebecca lee davis
rebecca davis jones
rebecca davis-jones
rebecca jones-davis

a typical phone call with any official corporation/organization/employer/entity goes something like this:

business dude: alright, can i get the name on that?
boo: rebecca jones
b.d. : umm... i'm not seeing it
boo: try rebecca davis jones
b.d.: nope, not there
boo: rebecca davis?
b.d.: nothing
boo: boo face mcjones?
b.d.: umm... that looked more likely
b.d.: rebecca davis jones banana hammock?
b.d.: oh yep, there you are. could i get you to verify your contact information?

(forgot to post this last week...)

it all started with a simple thought.

biscuits and gravy. then i realized. i have no biscuits. i have no sausage.

brilliant plan: ride pink monster to winco and acquire biscuits and sausage.

i harness the pink monster up out front and start walking into winco. approximately two steps in the front door i hear a male voice behind me say: hi. i turn to my right, and respond: hi. it takes a moment to process, but i soon realize that i have never previously laid eyes on the plaid-clad thirty-something next to me. he stares. i quiver.

sorry, he says, i thought you were my neighbor.

silent pause.

oh, well, i'm not. i coldly reply.

yeah, you mostly looked like her from behind.

he stares intently at some part of my face. sweat drips from his dwight schrute haircut. i make a quick left down an aisle i have absolutely no interest in.

oh, well have a nice day, he calls behind me.

while panicking about my vulnerable position all alone in the grocery store--my only getaway the two-wheeled, pink contraption powered by my wee little legs--i spy the only thing that can restore sanity: circus animal cookies. on sale.

i grab the cookies and biscuits and gravy necessities and hustle back to the pink monster, carefully stowing all goods in my front basket. speeding down (or up) myrtle street, i realize i have made a clean getaway from the sweaty, dressed-by-his-mother, socially inept, i-hope-he-was-referring-to-my-hair-when-he-recognized-me-from-behind, dwight schrute look alike.

i was little aware of my impending doom.

i can't tell you why i didn't notice it. perhaps the thrill of avoiding another awkward encounter. perhaps the fact that i am mere minutes away from enjoying circus animal cookies in the comfort of my own blue couch. either way, i soon find myself speeding directly toward the curb of death.

i watch as all goods in the basket bounce uncontrollably. the biscuits fly to the left. the sausage flies to the right. the cookies land six inches in front of me. without having any time to react or absorb the shock of what has just happened, i feel the pink monster's front wheel make direct contact with the circus animal cookies. the crunching sound makes me instantaneously nauceous, and i react as i always do in incidents of minor destruction: panic.

helplessly screaming, "oh no oh no oh no" on one of the busiest streets in boise, i carelessly park the pink monster, praying that there is some hope for the cookies. the bag is rent apart, all cookies smashed into the sidewalk.

i struggle not to actually cry, so i start picking up all the smashed animal cookies in an attempt to distract myself. i convince myself that any good citizen would clean up their smashed cookies, not realizing that in my effort to keep sidewalks clean, i am actually depriving all the local birds of the best feast of their short lives.

i complete the clean up, packing the remains of the cookies in the grocery bag to properly dispose of in the privacy of my own home. as i sit baffled on the sidewalk, i reflect on the eventful past fifteen minutes.

what did i learn from this experience? well, there are multifarious positions to take on it. perhaps i should learn that judging the socially inept to be inherently perverted and creepy and taking all measures to avoid them isn't the best way to perceive an uncomfortable encounter. perhaps it i now know that impulse buying unnecessary food is never a positive response to emotional trauma. however, in the initial moments following my sidewalk trauma, i learn a very valuable lesson.

one when loses a bag of circus animal cookies, it is best to immediately fill the void with a bag of red vines purchased at a convenice store on the way home. lesson learned.

well, i was going to write a really great post about the 4th of july and how much i love america (but not in an e. e. cummings way). i was even going to include a picture of myself and the pie that i made (strawberry apple = delicioso). but we left the camera in our friend's car. and then time passed on. and now it's simply uncool to post about the 4th of july. and let's face it, as much as i love america, i love being considered "cool" and fitting in exponentially more.

shallow?

most definitely.