Oh, those British...

No, this isn't about Prince William & Kate Middleton.  That's for another post.

Rather, check out this interesting article here...  My husband stumbled across it today. 

According to one Satoshi Kanazawa and a LSE researcher - if we have a girl, it means we're attractive.  And if we have a boy, we're ugly but less likely to divorce.  Can't decide which I'd prefer...  ;)

Bullseye

So once again my boss is out of town, which means I am working very hard trying to look busy. This also means – blogging marathon! Yay! We can do it! A post everyday! That no one will read! Whoohoo!

As you can see by the title & image at the top of the post, I am writing about an establishment we all know & love – Target.

Somehow, whenever I walk into a Target, the store seems to sense what I want and need – even before I myself realize.  For example, the other day I went to Target to get some mundane household items – laundry detergent, sandwich baggies, lotion, etc.  I thought I had everything I needed.  After leaving the hardware section (after grabbing a pack of one-time-use Krazy Glues), I noticed I was passing by the infant/toddler section of the store.  Now, as a mom-to-be, I have tried to be practical and limit how much baby stuff I look at – I don’t know the baby’s gender, I still have 6 months to go, and I plan on mooching as many of my friends’ & relatives’ hand-me-downs as possible.  The only time I’ve stepped foot in a baby boutique store since finding out I was pregnant was to buy a gift for another gal.  And I wasn’t allowed to linger or loiter as my husband was waiting in the car (ah, my dear husband).

So I definitely slowed down my pace as I walked by aisle after aisle of clothing, burping cloths, and pacifiers – tempted to enter one of the aisles and look at things up close, but intimidated by the crying children, frenzied parents, and other hooligans that were already occupying the precious aisle space.  As I started to pick up the pace again, telling myself that it was still too soon – ALL THE LIGHTS RIGHT OVER THE BABY SECTION WENT OUT.

It was the eeriest thing in the world.  Babies started screaming. Parents became anxious and started wheeling their carts out of the aisles, scratching their heads, wondering aloud.  I expected the lights to turn back on fairly immediately, but they stayed off.  I realized I was standing there, mouth agape.

Suddenly, all the aisles that had seemed crowded and all-too-boisterous were silent, empty, and dark.  I slowly turned my cart to enter an aisle...

I proceeded to go up and down 3 or 4 of the aisles, touching all the receiving blankets, petting the fleece footed sleepers, and inhaling the soft gentle scent of baby products. I didn’t put anything in my basket, of course.  But it was a nice glimpse into my future.  A soft opening, if you will, to acclimate me to an area of Target that will probably be as familiar as the back of my hand in, oh, 25 weeks.

I didn’t think I was ready, but Target knew I was – given the right circumstances. 

Thank you, Target. I love you.

PS: I’d like to say as soon as I walked out of the aisles and went back to my normal business that the lights miraculously & instantaneously turned back on in dramatic fashion.  But, no. They stayed off as I finished my shopping, paid and left the store. Still, I think it was a pretty special coincidence – don’t you?

I just can't.

Pregnancy brings with it a whole host of lists and articles on what you can't or shouldn't eat, drink, or do.  I don't know if it's because I'm the child of a physician (who always told me nothing was that bad or that great for you - all things in moderation) or because I'm a lifelong smart ass who just doesn't like being told what to do - but I just can't adhere to all these rules.

Following, is a list of those items I simply cannot live without  - even for 9 months.  Call me weak. Call me a horrible mother.  But it just doesn't seem worth the stress or compromised quality of life I feel I'd be "suffering" by foregoing them...

1)  Caffeine.  Most publications say that up to 200mg of caffeine per day is ok.  I try to imbibe about 199 mg/day.  I did cut out full-caff coffee - I only drink decaf. And only one cup a day - and not even everyday at that.  I also like my occasional glass of Trader Joe's Sweet Tea, or a cup of hot green tea latte.

2)  Alcohol. An occasional sip of wine or beer will not ruin my baby. I'm quite certain. A recent LA Times article sited a British study that found that a pregnant woman could have the equivalent of up to one glass of wine/beer a week with no obvious implications on that child's cognitive development.  Of course, for every article that ventures the occasional drink is ok, there are about 50 articles that warn pregnant women should categorically abstain from alcohol.

3)  Raw food. I love lox.  I LOVE LOX.  And I LOVE SUSHI.  I cannot go 9 months without lox or sushi, I'm now realizing.  I actually DREAMED about sushi last night - no joke.  In my dream, I was walking down a street (on some other mission of course) and happened to pass a plate of sashimi sitting on the curb.  Just sitting there.  Looking delicious.  I'm sure I drooled a little extra into my pillow at that very moment.  I'm not going to eat as much sushi/lox as I normally would.  But one bagel with lox or a spicy tuna roll, every 2 to 3 months, methinks is ok.  I also refuse to give up over medium eggs, or medium-rare cuts of meat.  Ptooey.

So those are the big 3.  I don't mind giving up hot dogs or questionable deli meats (uh, who doesn't already pass over slimy bologna??).  I don't miss gin or Jack Daniels by any means.  And I have no problem snubbing unpasteurized milk products and cigarettes.

I am trying to eat healthier in general (more fruits, vegetables & whole grains) - but I do have my minor slipups... such as my 2-day binge on KFC mashed potatoes & gravy - and my attempt to win $1 million in McDonald's Monopoly sweepstakes by buying the occasional large fries or breakfast meal (all I won was a free medium fries... how ironic).  I drink way less soda than I used to, and try to opt for non-caffeinated sodas (which, by the way, are usually more expensive) when I do.  I drink gallons and gallons of water (at the expense of my employer, hehe).  And I try to exercise at least once a week. (Hey, it's better than NONE!)

You can judge me, if you will.  But it won't change a thing. So there.

9 to 5

Have I told you about my new boss?  Well, it's already been a couple months, so not that new...  He's 80+ years old and wears a hearing aid in both ears.  He also vacillates from sweetheart to curmudgeon in 0.3 seconds - which only exacerbated my recent hormone-induced moodiness to the point where all my other coworkers are now deathly afraid of both of us because we yell at each other all day, everyday.

You see, my boss sits right next to me.  The whole time he's at the office - from 9:30am to 4:00pm, with a half-hour break for lunch.  He's right there. His desk is at a 90-degree angle to mine and when we're both seated at our desks with our chairs pushed in, our shoulders are a mere 2-feet apart.  Some of the time he's (way) over at his desk making phone calls on his cell, in this CMU pit of reception we call our home away from home.  I swear I've looked at my phone before and had NEGATIVE bars, the reception is so bad.  Suffice to say, when my boss is on the phone, he has to yell and repeat himself a lot.  When he's not on the phone or composing emails on a notepad for me to type up & send, he sits next to me, literally shoulder-to-shoulder, with a makeshift pointer made out of an old Bic ballpoint pen shaft and inverted cap so that the plastic clip part is the pointer.

Anyway, my point is that this makes for a somewhat stressful work place for me.  And since he is a bit up in the years, he has his senior moments.  Here's, verbatim, a very common conversation we have:

Boss:   OK, put this brace 10' off of that one.
Me: [Cheerful] OK [clicks mouse, types some stuff, clicks mouse again]
Boss:  Great. Perfect.  Print that out for me.
Me: [Hits Ctrl+P & hands printout to him]
Boss: [After studying it for a bit] What's the spacing on these braces here?
Me: 10' on center.
Boss: [Scoffs] What? That won't work - why'd you space them out so far? They can't be over 7' apart!!
Me: [Demurely] Oh. I thought you told me to space them 10' apart.  I'm sorry... [Click, type type, click]
Boss: Yeah! Good.  Now fix it and print me out another copy.
Me: [Diligently] Ok!

So that's how that conversation went in August, when I first started working for him.  Lately, however - what with my extra-sunny disposition - the "conversation" quickly disintegrates as such:

Boss: OK, put this brace 10' off of that one.
Me:  [Incredulous] 10'? Are you sure? I thought 7' was the max.
Boss: [Scoffs] Well, yeah it is.  But let's just show it at 10' for now.
Me: [Click, type type, click] OK. 10' on center.
Boss:  [Pauses, staring at screen, breathing loudly] OK, what happens if you move them 3' closer together?
Me: [All cool be lost] [Exasperated sigh] Oh, you mean, so that they're 7' on center? The max? OK, let's "see". [CLICK CLACK, BANG BANG, CLICK]
Boss: Ok, yes. That's better.  You shouldn't space them 10' apart like that...
Me: [Fuming]

I'm sure customers of the printing portion of our office must think I'm the most horrible person in the world. They'll be sitting across the room, waiting for copies, and all of a sudden they hear my shrill younger voice verbally abusing this frail old man.  Thing is, he's not frail.  And he's certainly not innocent.  The man is crazy! He yells at me at least as much, if not more, than I yell back at him.  And usually in the end, we both either calm down and laugh it off - or it just dies down and we keep working as though nothing happened.

So, really, it's just the way it is.  The way it has to be.  We've achieved a delicate balance of high-volume conversation, disagreement, and compromise.  The cycle repeats itself hundreds of times each week.  And, yes, if you were to walk in on us, without knowing anything, you'd probably think we were inches away from killing each other.  But we're not. 

We quite like each other, actually.