36 Weeks and counting

Today marks my 36th week and 1 day into the pregnancy.

By now, the fine downy hair (lanugo) that has covered our son's skin is beginning to disappear, along with the vernix caseosa (the thick, creamy substance that has protected the baby’s skin while he has been submerged in amniotic fluid). I've also gained a total of 28 pounds - 3 more pounds than I had originally envisioned. While I wish i could say I can stop right here, my doctor feels I'll just be putting on more weight as D-Day (delivery day) draws nearer, as fluid retention will work against me and the weighing scale.

As early as next week, as late as a month from now, I could be giving birth. I'm scared, excited, tired, excited, scared, tired - you get the drill. The pregnancy gestation period has been both an extremely long and short journey, depending on what time of day people ask me about it, and what i've just eaten prior to the question.

But we're almost there. Your prayers for my baby's health (and mine) would all be appreciated.

Surprise Office Baby Shower

Just when I thought I couldn't be surprised, my office mates just proved me wrong.

Here are pix from my office baby shower. I look tired and I haven't even combed my hair (I thought I was just going to go to some unofficial office shindig), but don't doubt, I was happy. I think my hubby was happy too. :)

Big Hands, Big Feet

My hands and my feet are the two (in terms of sets) of my biggest insecurities in life. While most people don't notice it, I actually have large hands (relative to my size) and fat feet (I mean, length wouldn't have been that much of a problem I think, if they were slender).

The large hands was embarassing during the "dating" phase of my life when guys, in what would have been a romantic moment, notice my rather large, stubby hands (that sometimes, despite the fact that I'm smaller than the guys I've dated, are larger than my date's). It was especially horrific when I got engaged and my hubby - ever the honest kind of guy he is - revealed matter of factly to his family (to his family, would you believe), that I have a bigger ring size than he did.

I nearly died in humiliation but of course, my hubby was unrepentant ("how else would I be able to arrange our wedding ring size?", he asked).

My feet on the other hand, is not so obvious, but the tragedy, though quiet, is just as bad for me. The thing is, I love shoes. I mean, I LOVE shoes. Unfortunately, here in the Philippines, while they carry my size, they don't necessarily carry my girth. Plus the fact that most designs only look good on slender feet. As it is, I have to keep buying open toed thingies not because they're sexy, but because they're really more comfortable.

Of course, not everything is bad about them, no matter how much I complain. My hands, for example, though large and embarassing and inconvenient when texting on cell phones, they are incredibly good for giving massages, typing and playing the piano. In the meantime, my feet has saved me numerous times from graceless falls - being the clutz that I am, I just end up hitting things rather than hitting things and then falling gracelessly to the ground.

So why am I writing this? This isn't really what's on my mind right now. Maybe it's because I'm really scared right now, and I'm frustrated and I just don't want to deal with what's going on in my life that I focus on things that are more mundane and manageable.

And damnit, there's a story somewhere here in this blog, but I just can't write it.

Back To Work

After 2 weeks, 11 pokes (either from injections, blood withdrawals etc) and a gazillion antibiotics, I'm finally back to work.

For all those who had prayed for me and my baby, thanks.

Now, it's time to catch up. Hopefully, the rest of my pregnancy continues without any further complications.

My Calculator and I

Auditors and accountants have a very personal, intimate relationship with their calculators.

For most of my professional life, I had endured being laughed at, teased, made fun of, by non-accounting/auditing friends, who find my lugging around my ancient table calculator at all times, a source of never ending amusement. I don't mind. Few things came between me and my calculator (one of which is coffee, but that's for another blog), but for the most part, we're inseparable. I simply feel naked without it.

But perhaps what's even more unusual, is that it has to be the calculator. I have only changed calculators once in the past ten years, and it was with so much grief because I couldn't find my original, large numbered calculator. When I finally found it again (the original, large numbered calculator, or OLNC for short), I nearly sagged with relief. Far from retiring it, I had even used for a couple more years, even though its batteries have long died and it only relied on its solar power. With reluctance, I had put it in a "home" when the numbers are no longer discernible. The "home" was our little shelf in our condo where useful things reside: scissors, tape, clips etc. There, my battered, ten year old calculator would stay to be called only during special circumstances wherein I would have to calculate something at home (hey, it happens).

I write this blog now, because I have just been introduced to a nifty, far more advanced, and expensive looking calculator: the HP 171BLL Financial Calculator. It comes with its own leather case, and 300 page manual. It has buttons that are alien to me like "Print" and "Input" and "Math" (like, isn't the whole point of calculating is to do math?). Its packaging boasts of 28K user memory, 250 easy-to-use functions, a solve application nd RPN and algebraic entry. Browsing through its manual, I find that it can perform cash flows and mortgages without you having to put in an equation.

But despite all its cool functions, I feel disconnected.

I find myself longing for my battered, solar/batter operated calculator whose most advanced function was that it could back space. And yet, if I were a fantasy character and the calculator was a sword, there would be no question that I should be happy to obtain something so cool, it has its own name. But I'm not.

Maybe I'm just getting old and the barrage of information is too much for me to process. Or maybe I really just have difficulty moving out of my comfort zone. Or maybe, irrational or not, I just find it a sort of betrayal to the relationship I have had with my good, old calculator who has been a sort of friend, sort of security blanket, sort of good luck charm over the years.

Forbidden Kingdom

For those who are thinking of watching it: don't.

Enough said.

That's it, I'm now a Cookie

Right from the moment I had seen and heard David Archuleta sing Waiting For the World To Change for his American Idol auditions, I had been a fan. And at the beginning of the formal competitions, it had seemed like there was no one who could come close to him in terms of charisma both on and off stage, having mass appeal to all ages and genders alike.

And then, Eleanor Rigby happened, and I began to have grudging respect (and reluctant crush) on David Cook. Still, he was my number 2, and deep inside, despite his Billy Jeans and Little Sparrows, I had kept rooting primarily for David A.

Today, things changed.

For one thing, he came out in the unkempt-tie-and-vest look which I adore. And then he sang something so sweet and pop and maraiah and made it dark and sexy and manly. And then, they kept panning the camera over his brother (who had brain cancer or something and had only been able to attend this particular performance of his). And then, David Cook cried.

And now, I'm a true, blue cookie. Go David C!