Where I very carefully say nothing about Jerry Falwell waking up in hell.

On the way to the airport to pick up my Jessika the other day I heard the following contest on the radio…

Basically they give you clues and you have to guess the person and you win an HD radio. So the clues were:

1. Bill O’Reily hates me
2. I was a regular on The Facts of Life
3. I have a bet with Nicole Kidman that I will never get married.
4. I am the sexiest man alive.

I’ll take a second while you all go “D’uh!”

Caller number one (C1): Gary Coleman!
DJ: Um, well, huh, um, no. What makes you think it’s Gary Coleman?
C1: He was on Facts of Life and he thinks he is the sexiest man alive.
DJ: He was on Different Strokes and even Gary Coleman isn’t that deluded to believe he is the sexiest man alive. Next caller.

The next caller was priceless as she just started screaming George Clooney into her phone. Seriously, it’s an HD radio. Big whoop. Then when they finally got her to stop scream Clooney’s name she started in on how he really is the sexiest man alive which then got me to thinking and trying to come up with someone sexier than George Clooney. I’m still working on it.

We’re in our typical “June Gloom” weather mode here in Northern California. On Tuesday the morning fog had JUST started to burn off when the evening fog rolled on in. It was beautiful. You have no idea how happy this makes me. No, you really don’t. You think you do, but you don’t. When every where you go you lead with your prominently large belly and you sleep only when the house thermostat hits 66 degrees you’re thrilled with the June Gloom.

Speaking of prominent bellies. As of tomorrow Little Dude can arrive at any point and the doctors won’t do anything to stop him. That sort of freaked me out. Ok, “sort of” isn’t even close to the freak out. I’ve spent some serious time with the internets this week shopping for everything that we might need before he gets here. The postman is going to hate our house for the next couple of weeks. We’re expecting packages in the double digits. Now it’s just a race between the post office and Little Dude. Here’s hoping the Post Office wins!

Still trying to top George Clooney. However, in the most thoughtful partner department David wins hands down. After we dropped off my Jessika at the airport on Sunday night we came home and I got ready for my dreaded nightly bath – an aside, who would of thought that me of all people would get bored with taking a bubble bath every night? Anyway. Out came a beautiful bag filled with lavendar bubble bath because lavendar/vanilla was the only thing that could relax me enough to sleep during my first trimester and The Body Shop discontinued the fragrance. Next was a gorgeous hammered copper bowl on a wrought iron stand, complete with bottles of vanilla and lavendar essential oils. Now I can mix my own lavandar vanilla scent. I’ve slept better this week than I have the entire pregnancy! Also inside was a back scratcher and massager because I have the “itchiest back ever.” Now I can scratch all the skin off my back all by myself! Aside from how perfect was this gift, the part that made me cry is he included Jasmine bubble bath because he remembers how much I love driving down Mission Blvd. in the convertible just after sunset because the summer air is heavy with jasmine.  I couldn’t have imagined a better first Mother’s Day.
And don’t even get me started on the surprise weekend out of town he has planned for my birthday. We had decided not to go anywhere on my OB’s advice. I thought we’d work on baseboards for the downstairs. Nope! He’s whisking me off to pet llamas and luxuriate in the Russian River Valley. Far enough away that it feels like an actual vacation yet close enough to get home if Little Dude decides to make an appearance. Le sigh.