Early on, when Andra & I started dating, we had some friends over for a BBQ. When my Papa stopped by to take a look at her car, we forgot about our sausages on the grill. After he'd diagnosed her car trouble, dinner was a little over-done. It gave her the opportunity to introduce me to the phrase “Drier than a popcorn fart.” I'm still not sure exactly what it means, but it strikes my juvenile funny-bone every time. Of coarse, I was fine with it, being somewhere between New Love Sunshine and Thank God I Didn't Have To Cook.
Kitchen-wise, I've come a long way, but she never forgot my blind tact. The current relevance comes from the fact that she's not as large as some of the other pregnant women we've seen. I was actually expecting the opposite, since she's not a tall woman, 5'1 or 5'2, so I thought she'd wear a pregnancy like a tether ball on a windless day. I mean, she's obviously pregnant, but we've seen women who look like they're smuggling large turkeys! I'm pretty sure she believes me when I say she's not showing as much as these new mothers, but not easily!
Yesterday was a marathon-appointment day: three, plus a class. By the end, we were past cranky, to delirious, meaning that we could sit in a hospital entrance, trying not to giggle at some of the people we'd seen. One woman, who was waiting for a blood test to see if she was to induce tomorrow, was huge! Andrea said, “Why induce? Just stick a pin in her!” I hadn't composed myself before she said “I felt like putting on a bikini.”
There was another who told the nurse she was having “Bladder Contractions.” (?) When asked for a pee sample, she said “Not a chance, I can barely get a few drops at a time.” Well, I wondered, what was that racket from the washroom about ten minutes previous? Were ya puking through a straw? Sweety, she's a nurse, not your parole officer.