Last weekend the Chop and I went to a local hardware store to get some paint samples. I, of course, completely forgot about the low/no VOC nonsense, so yesterday we ended up at Home Depot. Two gallons of (pregnancy-friendly) paint and supplies later and the nursery is about to begin.

The best part is that we’re not the greatest painters and the Chop would prefer to be cleaning the house (and mowing the lawn and doing anything else besides painting, omg, the horror), so he is currently killing time by getting coffee and taking grass clippings to the dump and I’m debating the best way to drop cloth the floor.

During the testing phase, I got two colors up just fine, but the darkest one managed to splatter everywhere—the floor, the baseboard, the door (wtf)—so we decided it’d be best to cover whatever we could.

So far, it is not going well.

When we bought our house, we knew our gardens were going to be a pain in the ass… but they were so nice, and beautifully landscaped… and half a freaking acre. The guy who owned the house was a contractor/handyman type and it’s evident in all the awesome details (hardwood floors, gorgeous kitchen, three bathrooms) and in the yard. We have huge trees (perfect for tree houses), buckets of different flowers, lots of grass, and our own well with built in sprinklers — we also have a company that weeds, mulches, etc. and a company that maintains the sprinklers. Hi, home ownership? Fucking expensive.

Sadly the sprinklers in the backyard went on this morning around 4 and haven’t shut off, despite me flipping the turn off valve, so now my backyard is like Jungle Book and the cats are having a party. So far cardinals, bluejays, some random black birds, squirrels and two bunnies have decided that our backyard is their new sanctuary. Aside from the incessant chirping, I’m highly entertained. It is 85 degrees (on it’s way to a high of 90, thank you fucking hot wave! I LOVE 90 degrees when I’m 5 1/2 months pregnant) though, so I get the love affair they’re all having with water spouting from the ground. On the other hand, two squirrels are copulating and that’s really kinda creepy.

In more entertaining news, the baby is finally kicking enough for other people to feel him (I’ve felt him for a couple of weeks), so after I had a crazy dream where the baby’s foot was formed and pushing enough that I thought I could feel his toes and see his full foot and ankle near my belly button (pregnancy dreams = insane), I woke the Chop up.

So if you’re in the neighborhood and bored at 7AM, feel free to drop by. There’s a Mariachi band that seems to start playing about that time.

When I was about 17 the alternator gave out on the Jeep I was driving. Highly terrifying, I was lucky to have it happen right before I got on a bridge, and right above a street that descended to the house of a friend. When your alternator stops working, your entire car stops working. All the dials go to zero, no radio, air, the car powers itself off — and you can’t turn your wheel either.

This morning, going about 75 on the freeway, my alternator, for lack of a better word, fluxed. My car shut down and using the momentum I had, I attempted to exit the freeway, forgetting that my wheel was not so keen to turn. I ended up pulling off in the middle of a turning exit lane (awesome, I know), cruising over a cement barrier and settling in the dirt.

And then, I tried to turn my car back on. Which, admittedly, might’ve been a bad idea… except it turned on. I pulled back onto the road, turned around and got back onto the freeway and arrived at work with no other problems.

So I’ve decided a) someone set off an EMP of some sort that temporarily knocked out the power of my car (and yeah, sure, no one else was affected, but it was aimed at me!) or b) my car had some sort of crazy hiccup and now it’s fine.

I have my fingers crossed I’ll be able to turn it on and get home, because I don’t really want to have it towed 45 miles back to the mechanic where we live. And the Chop really doesn’t want to have to come and get me, lol.

Personally, I see sex. Now, that could be because I’m “adult” or because I’m pregnant and horny, but still, dolphins? It took me a little while to see the damn dolphins.

From BoingBoing.net: “Scientific American is doing a whole issue on optical illusions and they’ve got a sampling up on their website as a slideshow. It’s interesting to see how some illusions are created by physical tricks of the eyes, while others are, apparently, psychological in nature. This illusion, for instance, is supposed to be influenced by the way sexual maturity changes your frame of mind—kids see dolphins and grown-ups see, well, sex.”

Yesterday was the Chop’s oldest sister’s birthday, and fortunately his younger sister called to remind him—which was good, since apparently I was supposed to remind him, but I have “pregnant brain,” so my memory is impaired. Or so they say.

He texted her around 11PM, and she responded by saying she was in California with her boyfriend. I told him to text her back and say, “allie says have good bday sex!,” but he refused, quite vehemently, lol. So I texted her and we went to bed.

About an hour later my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, so I didn’t answer. It called again and I thought “fuck it, fine” and answered. It was a guy, asking who I was—of course I responded with, who’s this? He didn’t say, but asked if I was some random name—I said no. Then he asked if I was Chop’s Allie. I said, uhh… yeah?

Turns out his sister didn’t have me in her phone and they were wondering who the random person was who texted her about her sex life. Yeah. Well done on my part. The Chop thought it was hilarious.

Two things:

Does anyone else think Faisal Shahzad sounds like Fievel and Shazaam? Every time they say his name on the radio, it makes me instantly think of this guy:

Also, is it weird that the National Day of Prayer comes after the national(ish) day of eating Mexican food and drinking margaritas? Hi, now that you’re coming off a mighty hangover, sit down and pray for your soul. Except in Arizona (fuck you) where I feel like they don’t celebrate Cinco de Mayo, and if they do, they better stop, because you know that party’s getting raided.

Yesterday we received a check from FEMA, a “grant” if you will, to help cover “some” of our basement expenses. The Chop, being the smart guy that he is, is all, I’m just glad they sent us something! Me, being the practical (read: bitchy) person that I am, is trying to figure out how they came up with just over $600.

Especially considering DRYING the basement was around $3000. And I received our electric bill for last month, with all those fun dryers, and that was over $400. So seriously, what the fuck is $600? We’ve received quotes to add French drains, add new sump pumps, finish the basement with tile and redo the walls and so far, it’s most definitely going to cost over $20K—hello SMA disaster loan—so to me, $600 feels like nothing.

Also, definitely boy. And the nice ultrasound tech wrote it on there helpfully, just in case we weren’t positive: