The good news is we're getting a new car. The bad news is we have to pay for it, unless we find a clever way not to that is not overly illegal.

The Pathfinder won't pass inspection, and it will cost over $1,000 to get it ready to pass inspection. I get this figure from a very trusted friend who also happens to be a car guy. And since the Pathfinder is basically a piece of crap anyway, and very very old, he says it would be not so very smart to put that kind of cash into it. Our other car is also a piece of crap, with, remarkably, even more miles on it, but it did pass state inspection so it can stay until it wheezes its last breath. Which could be at any moment. But my car guy friend is on the lookout for something that will get us around and won't blow up or otherwise endanger our lives and hopefully will not be too utterly embarassing to drive. I would like to just bite the bullet and get something semi-new, but Mr. Budget is tight as it is what with no one wanting to hire me in my enormous state right now. So used it is.

To be truthful, we really can't complain. We got the Pathfinder 3 years ago when my beautiful Buick was totalled by a drunk driver, so it was basically paid for by the insurance. We haven't really done much to it, so, well, there you are. The Jeep was given to us for free, and even though it inexplicably has no 4 wheel drive, it's still a decent enough truck, especially for the price. I have to keep reminding myself of this as I attempt to not feel sorry for myself, since we can't even really sell the Pathfinder because it won't pass inspection. Some clever semi-hoodlum could probably get another few years out of it if they could forge a sticker, but I am not willing to risk a ticket every time I leave the house.

On a different note, my shower is this weekend, so all you late shoppers will have to use FedEx. :) It's a little odd, our current financial state. We live in a nice house, but with minimal furniture. HH has a pretty decent job, but we are still being crushed under the weight of debt we accumulated from college. So we live in this strange limbo-land, straddling two worlds; one with income enough to afford massages and pedicures every once in a while, and one where we are practially insolvent. Somehow the bills get paid every month, we don't get calls from creditors or anything. I wanted to call those AmeriDebt places to see if we could get help with our bills, but you have to have not paid for more than 3 months, and that, my friends, I am just not willing to do. It's almost as if I can't, such is my aversion to this idea. Plus it doesn't reflect well on your credit report, and I love my credit report. So, someone has to hire me, give me a book deal, or pick my name out of a hat and award me a fabulous sweepstakes prize, in preferential order. Any volunteers?

Oh, and I realized that the one year anniversary of this blog blew by months ago without me or anyone else noticing. Happy Belated Birthday, Blog!

Overheard at the grocery store:

Woman 1: So what are you wearing?

Woman 2: I bought a dress for it, to go with those shoes.

Woman 1: Oh, you're wearing a dress? I didn't think we had to dress up, really.

W 2 (slightly incredulous): Oh, definately. We should all wear something nice.

W 1 (slightly put out): I was hoping to just wear jeans. I just assumed because they will be serving barbecue.

W 2: Well, yes, but it *is* a wedding.

Song in my head: "Paint that Wagon", from the Simpsons episode where they all sing and are watching a musical Western with Clint Eastwood and Lee Marvin. You know the one. (scroll down a little more than halfway)

Most insane dream: I was waiting in line on the outskirts of my old high school to see the Pope. The Pope was seeing people on a rickety white wooden platform. I couldn't find my shoes and was improperly dressed, but the Pope was really very nice about it all and congratulated me on being pregnant.

Last night HH and I were both cranky, so we spent too much money on sushi. For some reason we just can't get it together to get to our 6pm childbirthing classes on time, at least not without some serious drama.

To coin a Dooce phrase, here is How to Irritate Me:

1. Be my neighbor and have your fire alarm go off for the past 3 HOURS. How is this not bugging you? Did you set it off by accident and decide to just leave because you couldn't figure out how to turn it off? Are you a complete idiot, or just trying to drive me batty?

2. Be the car inspector guy, and give me major attitude because you can't inspect my car because it's older and you don't have the equipment. Act as if I am honking in on a 1902 Edsel instead of a 1991 Nissan Pathfinder. Come *this* close to scolding me for not having my new plates on already. Pretend that somehow it is I who is inconveniencing you by not getting my car inspected after waiting in line for 10 minutes.

It's 8:30 a.m. and I don't feel like doing anything. It's been raining for 2 days now (thanks, Florida, and your stupid hurricanes) and the low pressure makes me want to sit in front of the tv and drink Ovaltine all day. Well, the low pressure and massive baby in my belly. I am currently waiting for the electricians to come. The electricians are coming because, whenever I use the hair dryer, it blows out the electricity for the entire house. It seems to be only the hair dryer that does this, and it doesn't seem to matter how many or how few other appliances are on, although inevitably the computer is on and then it gets mad when all its power goes away suddenly.

Tomorrow is the much advertised, tri-annual "Giant Furniture Sale", which always cracks me up because I picture enormous lamps and chairs scattered across the commons. I want to put "Claes Oldenberg's" before the words Giant Furniture Sale every time I see one of the signs around town. Sadly, it is only the sale that is of larger than normal size, but I will still go, because we need a bureau for the baby that can double as a changing table.

What it is like to be 34 weeks pregnant, by T.

When you go to the doctor, which is all the time, the scale says things that it has never said before. It has never come close to saying the amazing things it is now saying. You would almost not believe the things that the scale is saying, except that your feet seem to be crushed every time you stand by the sheer weight of the body they used to carry with ease.

You also become acutely aware of ligaments in your "areas"- you know the ones I mean-because they are relaxed and bearing weight at the same time, which is an unusual sensation. They are relaxed because of a horome called, inexplicably, Relaxin. So your hips feel slightly wobbly, like a chair that has had screws loosened and then someone heavy sits in it. The chair holds, but it wobbles around and could fall apart at any moment.

But three cheers for Zantac, people, because I took a dose last night and actually remained in a reclining position without my esophagus climbing out of my throat. The only wake-ups I got last night were for peeing, not for emergency proceedures to stop acid from digesting my upper respiratory system. So, yay!

I know I am complaining, so I will also tell you that it is the best thing ever to feel little tiny baby feet pressing against your belly. You also become a minor celebrity, and everybody talks to you and is extra nice to you once you are showing. I don't hate that. Then, if you happen to have the cutest husband ever, he will do silly things and yell funny words at your big belly, and your heart will melt a little when he presses his ear against your belly when the baby starts to kick.

I have been neglecting you, oh Internet. That is probably okay, since my entire readership is in Lake Tahoe without me, getting married. To add insult to injury, they got a hotel room in the same place as the delicious waffle house. I have spent less than 24 hours in Lake Tahoe, but I would go back just to go to the waffle house. Mmmm banana waffles.

So fine. Get married without me, just because I am as big as a Cadillac and would make a plane list to one side. Instead of going on vacation this week, I went up to my mother's and went on a baby shopping extravaganza. We got a really great crib and bassinet, and it only took us 5 hours of driving around, only to go back to the first place and get the first crib we saw! She now has green bassinet sheets and purple crib sheets. I think green, orange and purple are her nursery colors, for those of you who still haven't purchased many, many gifts for my sweet little baby.

I also participated in an internet supernova, which was very exciting in a way that only the interweb can provide, meaning interesting and anticlimactic all at the same time. It's a good article, though, so go read it.

It is also entirely possible that we have a paying client, which means that I am somewhat gainfully employed, even though I don't know what I am doing. It's great when you own a business, because you don't have to apply for a job, you just have to hack your way through it and hope that your husband can fix the glaring errors you are bound to make. Let's hear it for underqualified employees!

We had our second childbirth class last week, and we learned a valuable lesson: Do not give HH a Snickers bar on an empty stomach and then make him practice breathing and relaxation techniques. He will go all ADD sugar high and complain about the "hippie talk" that the instructor is using. He will talk to you while the teacher talks and basically act like a fidgety 5 year old. He held it together the best he could, but by the end of the night I was afraid to get in the car with him, such was the uncharacteristic level of spazziness.

To sum up: I am large, but not so much in charge. I am a peripheral superstar, while at the same time marginally qualified for the task I am about to undertake. And, do not administer sugar to anyone who has to then go and massage my back while breathing heavily in a darkened room. Thus endeth the lesson.