Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for those of you who enjoy tales of my pregnancy woes, this past weekend came and went without any uncomfortable emergencies. On Friday night, we attended a Christmas party hosted by one of DH's coworkers and his wife. There were 26 2/3 of us, plus 6 dogs, packed into a tiny townhouse. It was a really nice evening, and I came away with a $20 gift card to Jamba Juice from the gift exchange. I knew it was time to leave, though, when I almost had to take down this Jack Russell terrier that kept trying to hump poor Evey, who was huddled in fear under my chair for hours. The mama instinct was kicking in beyond my control, and I would hate to embarrass DH so soon in front of his new coworkers. A gigantic angry pregnant woman body-slamming a 10 lb dog, another video forward you'll soon find in your inbox.
Other than the promise of a stomach full of pureed fruit, the other good result of the Christmas party was that hiding from the Jack Russell really took the energy out of the dog. She actually slept through the night without requesting to join me and DH in bed! Not even Bean woke me up, for that matter. Sleeping in was just as fabulous as I remember. Then, my sweet DH drove us into downtown Seattle for our first real visit to the city's top donut shop. He knew better than to protest when I asked him to buy us a dozen -- 10 for me and 2 for him. What's $20 for donuts when you've driven 15 miles to get there? The price of a contented preggo is worth much more, as he is well aware.
Perhaps the best news of all, I officially finished my Christmas shopping on Saturday afternoon! Last recipient on the list: the pooch. We got her a giant candy-cane shaped rawhide bone. It's so much easier to buy for females, even spayed ones. This is her enjoying the bone we got her last year:
This is her reading the Christmas card that my parents sent to her this year. (Yes, they sent a card specifically addressed to our dog. Is there a problem?)
And just for fun, this is one of her favorite positions when napping on the couch. I could just squeeze her to pieces.
To round out an overall good weekend, I got a present from DH on Sunday! He surprised me with a pair of emerald earrings, to thank me for all my support and effort in moving us to Seattle. (Also known as The Emerald City, as my luck would have it. I'm really thankful we didn't move to a place nicknamed The Garbage City or something along those lines.) Anyway, he loves it here and has been so happy since we arrived, and that makes me happy, too. But the earrings are good insurance for him, just in case.
My impression of Seattle is still a good one, although the clouds rarely part these days. I can hardly be unhappy when there are quality donuts to be scarfed. I have been wondering, though, how far away do I have to move to escape certain really annoying commercials? 2100 miles and I still have to endure the Empire Carpet guy's nasally, overly enthused sales pitch and his unfortunate group of back-up singers belting out "800-588-2300... EMPIRE!" Unfair. And while we are on the topic of television, I haven't decided if I like the traffic guy on the Fox morning news. He's young and a bit goofy, often sarcastically adding "Good luck with that!" when pointing out nasty traffic snarls. In contrast, my St. Louis traffic lady would follow up bad news with helpful advice, such as suggesting that you leave early for work or offering an alternate route. I'm unsure if I like the Seattle guy's realistic approach -- you poor suckers are screwed no matter what -- or if I prefer St. Louis lady's blind optimism that you won't be awkwardly late to that morning meeting just because some idiot didn't slow down in the rain and now the highway is a parking lot. I guess it doesn't really matter, since my commute now consists of waddling 5 steps down the hallway. But I have to think about something when Bean wakes me up at 3 am, so there you have it.