A bit lighter perhaps?

The following enlightening conversation between a cashier and a bagger was overheard at the grocery store last night.

Cashier: I’d like a pet armadillo
Bagger: I’d want a penguin.
Cashier: A penguin?! That’s ridiculous. That’s like wanting a pet moose. By the way, have you ever eaten moose? It’s tasty. My friend shot one and we all had moose burgers.
Bagger: Your friend shot a moose? Where was he, like, the Amazon?

If I dwelled on this much longer I might be really sad, so I’ll just leave it here at simply amused.

Another thing that might be really pathetic if dwelled upon, but is funny as a quick anecdote is the time last month when I fell on the train.

Let me set the stage for you. It’s 7:30ish am on a VERY rainy (i.e. monsoon) morning. I arrive at the train station and proceed to the ticket kiosk to purchase round trip fare to LA (where I had training that day). I’m not expecting my train for another 10-15 minutes. Again it’s pouring. The rain had apparently delayed the morning trains and as I’m approaching the ticket kiosk the earlier train arrives. Still needing to purchase my ticket, I still don’t expect to make this one. I buy my ticket and start walking over to the platform. The train is still there. I get closer. The train is still there. I’m three feet away and thinking, “I’m actually going to make this train!” when the doors start to close...instinctively, I leap my six-month pregnant self forward, shoving my open umbrella through the closing doors and barely, BARELY make it inside where I then lose my footing. My legs fly up, I twist sideways and come down hard on my right hip/butt cheek. In the nano-second that followed I (a) try not to pay heed to the train car full of gasping commuters, (b) struggle to make sure my skirt is still covering what it should, (c) jump up before the car attendant can reach me, and (d) retreat to the first empty seat available. Once seated, I try to gather my senses and decide that the injury to my pride is probably greater than the one to my hip. I then start laughing maniacally, further disturbing the morning commuters who are careful to avoid making eye contact with me.

When all was said and done, my umbrella was the only real casualty (besides my pride). Its handle was bent at a full 90 degree angle, which then snapped when I tried to straighten it. RIP, Umbrella. RIP, Pride.

Luckily, I live in Southern CA where one can normally function just fine without either of those things.

Happy Wednesday.

Anniversaries.

(Grandma Nielsen)

Today marks One Year since my Grandma Nielsen passed away from pancreatic cancer. Her's marked the first of quite a few deaths we experienced last year. It sucked. A lot. I hoped life would throw us a bone this year and excuse us from that experience this year...and so far, it has (thankfully). However, my Grandma Rollins just was released from the hospital without any diagnosis on her recurring problem.

Universe, please not again. Not this year.

(Grandma Rollins)

So today I ask that you call your grandparents (if you have them) and tell them you love them. If you can, please go see them. Hug them. Indulge them and allow them to repeat the same story you've heard so many times you can almost mouth the words along with them. And enjoy it.

And, to honor my Grandma Nielsen, I also ask that you all wear your seat belts while out and about and that you call someone to let them know you're home safely. It's what she would tell you if she were here.

I miss you, Grandma. Throw Grandpa a high five for us, and maybe say 'what's up' to our soon-to-arrive kid.

Love, Jill.

So it seems we're not very interesting lately. We're of course doing lots and having fun, but my brain has stopped functioning, making it impossible to string intelligent sentences together. I need something to write about - I'd accept assignments even. I like writing assignments...

If you're looking for something good, I suggest checking out Skyler and Elise's blog. They are almost always around when something fun/exciting/interesting happens. They don't wait around for us to make good stuff happen, they're doing good stuff all the time. I love them. You should, too. Make sure to read about their most recent physical feat: The O.C. Marathon. Don't be surprised if they become your fitness heroes. Elise is the reason I work out 98% of the time.

So, because I've got nothing else for you, here's some more prego photos. We've started taking them after church every week to document this last trimester. Rebekah, consider this next part dedicated to you.

(And I'll try to write something non-pregnancy/baby before next week's photo.)

29 Weeks:



(Kenny says this next one is where I got annoyed at him. Can you see it?)



30 Weeks:


And one more, just for kicks...and because I have no shame.
(I was showing Kenny exactly how I might look during labor. Thankfully my neighbors across the way didn't glance out their window. They would have had a great view right up my skirt. Now that might have been interesting. )

A photo tribute to myself. Or 28 weeks.

Last week we went to our favorite winter spot, Mammoth (with Skyler and Elise, of course). It was wonderful as always - even though it's really hard for me NOT being able to snowboard. Oh well, maybe I'll get some turns in Memorial Day if I'm lucky. The Kid would be six weeks old by then...plenty of time for me to get back in shape, right? ...RIGHT?!

Anyway, I have to give some love to the Subaru. I love it. The roads were snowy, but I could hardly tell. And it makes me really happy to see it in its element.

While the rest of the group snowboarded, I mainly drove around alone exploring all weekend. After picking Kenny up off the hill on Sunday, we remembered to take a few quick photos to offically mark our 28th Week - or the first day of the 3rd trimester. They're nothing special or formal (note the chipped nail polish and sloppy clothes/hair), but here you go. If nothing else these should prove that I am in fact pregnant. (Are you proud, Kenny? I actually said/wrote the words.) They're all side views because I still don't look distinctly pregnant from the front when I'm standing up straight - at least on camera. Here you go!



(arching my back...)

Taken Saturday, by me, of me. I was bored.

The Pool (or another post without photos).

While my colleagues might come across as conservative bankers, it should be noted that they all share a particular fondness for gambling. When the state jackpot is high enough, it’s not uncommon for a secretary to come around collecting contributions for a group effort to win. “Just think, Jill, we could all retire,” they tell me.

I tease my colleagues when they come collecting and such, but I don’t really participate in this custom; however, I am unwittingly a key player in the current pool – or rather my pending child is. The winning player will have made the most accurate guesses on the following variables: birth date, birth measurements, and gender. (And no, we do not know the gender. We are waiting to be surprised, and I’m loving the suspense! Also, I'm hoping that not knowing will save me from getting overly gender-specific gifts. Selfish, yes, but practical. I refuse to put a "little slugger" tee on a son or to dress a daughter exclusively in ruffles and various shades of pastels. Sue me.)

Anyway, the pool has slowly made its way around the office (to all 50 of us here in this unit). So now, my days are routinely interrupted with people coming to ask seemingly random questions:

• So...are you measuring big or small?
• When exactly is your due date? Were you early/late?
• What do YOU think you’re having?
• Were you/Kenny “big” babies?
• Any contractions or complications so far?

Etc, etc. I must say, awkward as they may be, I prefer the questions to the uncomfortable stares I get from people analyzing the size of my growing waistline. (Keep in mind, I work with primarly male bankers.) They are all into it. All I’m going to say is that whoever wins better at least give me a 50/50 cut of the winnings.

I am the one doing all the real work after all.

My 3-Day Weekend

A few things from this weekend...

When receiving compliments about an item, I hope to someday resist the urge to inform them of the “amazing deal” I got when purchasing said item. (But seriously, doesn’t scoring a deal make the item so much better?!) So if you see me rocking some new shoes anytime this week, just know that I got a pretty killer deal...I’ll try not to tell you about it, but know that I am really happy about it. Also, they were purchased with a gift card received from the Boss, so technically I didn’t pay anything for them. Even better.

Given that my husband generally prefers to live in a “happy bubble” and therefore refuses to watch the news or follow current events of any sort, it’s been surprising to see how attentively Kenny has been following the earthquake in Haiti. He checks for updates constantly. (This is the guy that was irritated that September 11th made him miss a flight...I should clarify that once I made him actually view the footage and explained the severity of the event, his attitude did change. He is a compassionate guy...when informed.)

You know the advice “Don’t grocery shop when hungry”? It should probably be modified to say “Definately don’t grocery shop when pregnant and hungry.”

Had I followed this council I probably could have saved myself the $30+ I spent solely on various citrus fruit last Saturday (i.e. grapefruit, honey tangerines, Satsuma tangerines, cara cara oranges, blood oranges, etc.). I will say, however, that combined with some carrots and an apple, it made for maybe the best juice ever.

I’ve been relishing lazy Saturday mornings. I fully realize that in three short months “sleeping in” will no longer be a possibility and I have thus excused myself from any guilt regarding my lack of productivity during this time. So if you try calling before noon on a Saturday, don’t expect an answer. I will be cuddled up to my husband soaking in these last days of “Jill-and-Kenny-only time.” Speaking of loving time with Kenny...

A few more reasons to love Kenny:

He will totally indulge you in a debate over which donut shop has a more enticing name: “Oh Those Donuts” vs. “Dippity Donuts” (located just blocks from each other on Newport Blvd.). This is pretty much as close as we get to arguing lately. It’s awesome.

When you whisper to him during sacrament meeting that you might want a dual sided projector someday (so you can watch movies inside or out) he enthusiastically whispers back “ya – and a wave pool.” And he’s totally serious. (For real. It’s even recorded on the “Dream List” he keeps in his journal.)

He keeps an ongoing Dream List in his journal.

He tells you to bundle up and then takes you for a walk in the rain Sunday afternoon. A dance-off may or may not occur on a certain bridge at the train station. (I may have totally won the dance-off, by the way. )

And then maybe he makes you watch demo videos of various wave pools.

All this, followed by a day off (thank you Martin Luther King, Jr.!) made for a pretty great weekend.

Love and Hate

This morning I woke up hating every member of my extended family (on my mother's side).

Maybe hate is a little too strong of a word...and I should clarify that my feelings stemmed not from anything they've actually said or done. Rather my sour sentiments came from something I dreamt they did last night. I'll explain.

I dreamt I was attending a family reunion at some park and, for once, every single member was in attendance. All was well and everyone was having a good time - myself included - or we were, until it came time for the family portrait. For some reason I was put in charge of this undertaking and I set about dutifully setting up the tripod and gathering the troops. The first attempt failed. Children were fussy, no one would listen, and everyone was more interested in making dumb (and dumber) comments trying to out-funny one another. And they weren't funny. The second attempt was interrupted by something else...I don't remember. And the third... on the third I finally had everyone set to where I could see them all (no small feat) and then tired to make a quick adjustment of my camera. When I looked up, ready to set the timer, they were all walking away, apparently having had enough. The dream ended with me sobbing in the fetal position on some park bench, utterly exhausted.

And then my alarm went off.

I awoke feeling similarly exhausted - and with the added bonus of a pounding headache and even a sore throat. (Was I actually screaming at them in my sleep?!) Anyway both the headache and the sore throat have since subsided, thank goodness, but I was still extremely irritated all through my morning routine and commute to work.

Kenny was amused by this all, of course, and listened attentively as I railed against my family. Or at least the family in my dreams. Anyway, I got to work and coincidentally found an inspirational quote on power of Familial Love in my inbox and then Kenny emailed me Og Mandino's essay on Love (recorded in "The Scroll Marked II"). Both were very good and have effectively softened my mood. So while I failed to follow Mr. Mandino's repeated recommendation to "...greet this day with love in my heart" I will try at least to finish it that way. I hope you do, too.

That's all.