27 Weeks

Tomorrow the baby girl fetus gestating away in my belly becomes 27 weeks gestational age. She was conceived the night after a failed effort before City Council, so maybe she'll grow up to know better than to waste precious life time earnestly presenting to pseudo-leaders who have already made deals with the other side to take no action on your agenda items. Not that I'm bitter about it or anything. I thought that I was already rather large with her, for someone who is just now starting the third trimester, and then I looked at the Demi-Moore-style photo we took of me when I was at 7 months with the pooper, and man, I was big.

DH is out of town until so late Friday night that I won't actually see him again until I wake up Saturday morning - ditto for the pooper, who missed his daddy very much tonight during bedtime routine. We called daddy at the time in the routine when he normally stands at the top of the stairs and loudly summons daddy to come give a big night-night hug and kiss by yelling "DADDY! NIGHT-NIGHT! ... DADDY! NIGHT-NIGHT!" But tonight after we said "bye-bye Daddy" on the phone and hung up, he then looked around upstairs for just where Daddy had gone to so that he could get his night-night hug and kiss. It was sweet and heart-breaking, and tomorrow night I'll be prepared with a picture of Daddy that we can say night-night to after we get off the phone.

To the woman who was jogging in the road on Far West tonight at 5:30 p.m. and made me follow her in my car at her jog pace as I approached the intersection with Mesa rather than jogging on the sidewalk and then gave me a dirty look because she had to break her stride while I tried to figure out where exactly she was going so as to not hit her in case she darted out in some random direction, your perfect abs and clearly superb physical condition don't make up for your lack of road etiquette and if you are going to run out in the middle of traffic like a nutter at least have the decency to appreciate that people are doing all they can to not hit the unpredictable pedestrian running in traffic and shooting them dirty looks because you had to break your stride doesn't inspire the sort of concern for your well-being that you so take for granted.

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