Little of this, little of that

It is supposed to be positively amazing outside today - so exciting! Too bad I will be trapped in the office. At least I comped tomorrow off so I have a nice 4-day weekend. This is good, because we have high expectations for chores this weekend. We're hoping to really get the kid room into shape and also do /something/ with our horrible yard. Man, it's like a jungle. I guess step one is to get a lawnmower. Whoops.

We have to brave the MALL tonight. Wish me luck. I hate the mall. More than the mall, I hate Babies R Us. It creeps me out. Too many hormones in one spot coupled with too many overpriced, unnecessary products. I hope we survive! I need to get some breast pump replacement parts, and I don't think people like to buy those as gifts. Drat.

Yesterday I received a postcard in the mail from one of the local social service agencies that deals with children and families. They are having a big Employment Open House in the beginning of June, and I think it could be a good opportunity to meet some people and spread my resume around. (I guess this is me getting out of "have to go back to work" denial...) My concern is that I will look ridiculous going to a job fair on June 4 or so when I am hoping not to return to work until September or October. So what do you guys think?

[Poll #990698]

Thanks in advance. I will probably end up going regardless, and it's not like it's not obvious WHY I don't want to start until the fall, so it can't really hurt to check them out at least, right? It's a good way to network at the very least. I think, anyway.

My belly currently looks like it is hula-hooping by itself. It is going around and around. On other people I think that is incredibly freaky, but on me? It's just cool. Double Standard Kid wins again!

From one extreme to the other

I stopped for gas this morning at the same old gas station I always stop at, because I'm lazy and it's right there and because it's usually 2¢ cheaper than the other places. So I pull up to the pump and I'm pumping my gas. The weather is gorgeous and I'm wearing shorts and a VERY maternity tank top - the kind that is stretchy elastic over the breasticles and then just tents over the belly.

I guess I look bigger than usual in this shirt because out of nowhere, the Big Gas Station Lady comes out of the booth and puts on her suave voice and says, "You look like you're starting to get mighty uncomfortable, my dear," and makes like she is going to pump my gas for me! Thankfully I was totally done and putting the pump back into the tank and chirped, "Naw, I feel great, thanks!" and then she sticks around and takes my receipt out of the machine (pay at the pump) and hands it to me.

She says, "Boy or girl?" and I say, "Girl," and she tells me she knew it because I'm carrying so high. (Whatever, I'm 'carrying' 4 weeks behind!) So then I say very quickly, "I just hope they're right or I'm in trouble," and I scurry into my car and drive away.

SCARY GAS STATION LADY WAS HITTING ON ME!!!