Smoker

My regular route to work takes me past the American Cancer Society office on River Road and Labarre. Today they appeared to be having some sort of function, with tables and a tent and a bunch of people milling about. As I turned on to Labarre I saw a man standing at the outside edge of the group, wearing a suit and smoking a cigarette. It struck me that it takes a particular brand of hubris to smoke a cigarette at an ACS function. Someone should either slap that guy or shake his hand.

This morning it just struck me as kind of awesome.

From the Mouths of Babes

You sure do get a lot of attention when you're pregnant. It can be particularly awkward in my line of work, and it has become clear to me that many of my clients have no idea how--or whether--to react to my pregnancy. Now that my belly sticks out like a basketball and, try as I might, I have to waddle down the hall to greet them in the waiting room, the people I counsel have no choice but to acknowledge the situation. They are kind people, all of them, and they mean well, but for me it is almost unbearably awkward--something like the nightmare where you show up to class wearing nothing but your gym socks.

While everyone has been kind, and I have yet to hear the sorts of things some pregnant women are subjected to--"You look like you're ready to pop!" or "You sure you don't have twins in there?"--I am forced to wonder how truthful everyone is being. The other day Sydney was lying on my bed while I got dressed and when I finished and turned around to walk out of the room, she laughed, pointed at my midriff, and shouted "Mommy, you look silly!" She then proceeded to repeat said proclamation over and over, laughing with the gleeful abandon of one who has yet to develop those buzz-killing social skills we adults are forced to employ.

So. Who should I believe?

Things I Find Troubling, Bewildering, or Just Plain Unacceptable

1. (Bewildering) Truck parked across the street from our house, presumably involved in some sort of construction/renovation. Yolk-yellow, scuffed-up plastic testicles dangling from the rear bumper. Why? At one point in time this sort of accessory may have seemed clever or maverick or whatever, but now it just strikes me as sad.

2. (Troubling) Those who despise Hillary Clinton. Again, why? I have friends, Democrats even, women even, those who would likely describe themselves as liberals, who spew such intense vitriol when her name is mentioned that I can just barely tolerate the "discussion." Granted, I went for Obama in the primary and generally prefer his approach to Clinton's, but I would have gleefully skipped to the polls to vote for either one of them. But I guess, as a whole, we still do hate women that much.

3. ( Unacceptable) Yesterday, as I checked in to my bi-monthly OB appointment, the receptionist gestured to a box on the floor full of black bags and asked if I would like to have one. I saw what looked like a picture of a bottle on the cover of one of the bags, so I bypassed my immediate impulse to always accept free stuff and asked what was in the bags. Formula samples, she replied. I politely declined her offer and she gazed at me, obviously bewildered. "But they're free," she said.
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Today I am 34 weeks and 5 days pregnant. I am ready to be done. I envy those women who love being pregnant, because I truly don't. More than the physical discomforts I dislike the emotional issues, the anxiety, the waiting, my inexplicable inability to write or read anything even remotely reflective while gestating. Last time, when I became pregnant with Sydney, I had been working on several short stories and writing consistently, reflectively, powerfully I thought, every day. No sooner than the pee hit the stick did I dry up entirely--I couldn't write, couldn't think, couldn't sit down and do it. I've had a similar experience this time, as evidenced by my hiatus from the blogosphere. At first I blamed it on confidentiality: I hadn't told any of my clients I was pregnant, and I couldn't imagine not blogging about the pregnancy. But even after they were all told, after everyone knew, I found myself coming up empty. What is that? Why does that happen?