Here are a couple of cherished Murray moments from the past week:
FIRST STORY:
Remember the tiny jump drives that we got? One of the advantages of these was that they'd fit in a wallet. I carry mine in my wallet. Murray carries his on... our desk at home. How convenient! Anyway, when we were out for dinner earlier this week during one of our not-Disneyland adventures, Murray and I decided to head to Urban Outfitters. Murray said that he'd like to find a wallet like mine, which is really a card case. But you know. For men. And then that way he could carry his jump drive with him. So I told him that I really like my wallet, but part of the problem is that the springs aren't very tight, and so I am careful every time I open my wallet. Also, my jump drive isn't secured to anything. So I really really have to remember to be very careful every time I open my wallet, and if he could do the same, then he should get a masculine version of this wallet. But he shouldn't get one if always having to be careful would be annoying to him.
Then, giving him my wallet, I said, "Here. Give it a test drive. Open up the wallet and see if you'd find it annoying." He opened my wallet and my jump drive immediately fell into his drink.
I think that I can safely say that Murray failed his test drive miserably.
(Fortunately, one of the features of these jump drives that really appealed to Murray is that they can go through the washing machine and come out unscathed. You'll be glad to know that I've used my jump drive since that night, and it works just fine.)
SECOND STORY:
A while ago, I was telling Murray that earlier in the year, when we taught the class that was one year older than the sunbeams, I was impressed that they all colored within the lines. Our sunbeams didn't. But now, it's the end of the year, and our sunbeams still don't color in the lines, so when does a child magically learn to color in the lines?
Murray then gave me a lecture about how coloring in the lines isn't necessarily better, but people just think it's better. And they tell kids that what they're doing is wrong. But kids should be allowed to express themselves without limitations and they should never be told that coloring outside of the lines is wrong. It stifles creativity.
So the other day we were at Murray's friend Peter's house. Murray and Peter grew up together. Peter has an adorable 3-year-old daughter. While we were there, she brought out some of Peter's old Star Wars toys---the very same Star Wars toys that Murray and Peter played with as children. And this is the conversation that I witnessed:
C: This is the bad witch. [Holding out The Emperor.]
M: That's a man. That's the Emperor. It's not a woman.
C: No, it's a girl! It's a bad witch!
M: But it's the Emperor, and the Emperor isn't a woman. He's a man!
C: But I'm pretending that she's a witch!
M: Okay. You can pretend. But seriously, just so that you know, it's not really a woman. It's a man. It's the Emperor.
And then I gently reminded Murray that we are not to stifle children's creativity by telling them to color in the lines or by telling them that the Emperor isn't a woman.
My Dream
A few things that you should know before you read about my dream:
* The Boy has a new home in a nice new complex.
* Murray and I looked at a house the other day that has a stand-up shower in the master bedroom.
* Murray and I were at the Gateway recently and I was watching people bravely walk through the fountain in the middle of winter.
* I still have GDS and last night was Murray's work's Christmas party and even though I ate most of my dessert I still didn't spike my blood sugar because I am all kinds of awesome.
* I did laundry all day yesterday and finally laundered a turquoise maternity top with 3/4 length sleeves that I have been looking forward to wearing.
* Murray and I recently bought a fake rubber leech to give to my grandpa for Christmas because it's pretty much exactly what he'd want to find in his stocking.
Okay. That's about all I can account for. Here goes:
I was over at The Boy's house and I looked in his master bathroom, and he had a deluxe standing-only shower, but it was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Not only did water come down from above, but there were jets placed around the base of the shower that shot water up from below, yielding the most deluxe luxury shower I've ever seen. I decided I wanted to try out his shower. But all of a sudden, the shower wasn't in his master bedroom. It was in the middle of his condo area. So I was disappointed that to enjoy the most deluxe luxury shower ever, I'd have to wear a bathing suit. But I was wearing a bathing suit and it was the greatest bathing suit I had ever seen! It was very retro and it was turquoise and it went really low on the hips and had a frilly skirt attached to it and it was one-piece and it actually fit my bust (which no other bathing suit has managed to do since puberty) and it looked darling, except that I hated that it had 3/4 length sleeves. I really wished it had no sleeves at all.
I don't remember experiencing the shower itself, actually. I think that by the time I was ready for it, the shower itself was closed. It was replaced by a large glass dome (about 5 feet tall and 10 feet in circumference) on which thousands of gourmet chocolates were artistically arranged. And so I started eating chocolates, avoiding the ones on the top of the dome, which had started to melt and had bird poop on them. And I ate my fill of chocolates.
But then I realized that I had to get home and the fastest way to get there was to run through a swampy field. So I ran through a swampy field barefoot, and when I got out of the field I thought that was dumb because it was probably full of leeches, and sure enough, there was a leech that was attached to my toe, so I had to get salt. So I went into the vacation home that my family was renting and El Senor and Reggie were in the kitchen and I asked them to give me the salt and they did, and it was a plastic, greasy salt grinder and I ground salt onto the leech and killed it.
THE END
Anyone care to interpret?
* The Boy has a new home in a nice new complex.
* Murray and I looked at a house the other day that has a stand-up shower in the master bedroom.
* Murray and I were at the Gateway recently and I was watching people bravely walk through the fountain in the middle of winter.
* I still have GDS and last night was Murray's work's Christmas party and even though I ate most of my dessert I still didn't spike my blood sugar because I am all kinds of awesome.
* I did laundry all day yesterday and finally laundered a turquoise maternity top with 3/4 length sleeves that I have been looking forward to wearing.
* Murray and I recently bought a fake rubber leech to give to my grandpa for Christmas because it's pretty much exactly what he'd want to find in his stocking.
Okay. That's about all I can account for. Here goes:
I was over at The Boy's house and I looked in his master bathroom, and he had a deluxe standing-only shower, but it was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Not only did water come down from above, but there were jets placed around the base of the shower that shot water up from below, yielding the most deluxe luxury shower I've ever seen. I decided I wanted to try out his shower. But all of a sudden, the shower wasn't in his master bedroom. It was in the middle of his condo area. So I was disappointed that to enjoy the most deluxe luxury shower ever, I'd have to wear a bathing suit. But I was wearing a bathing suit and it was the greatest bathing suit I had ever seen! It was very retro and it was turquoise and it went really low on the hips and had a frilly skirt attached to it and it was one-piece and it actually fit my bust (which no other bathing suit has managed to do since puberty) and it looked darling, except that I hated that it had 3/4 length sleeves. I really wished it had no sleeves at all.
I don't remember experiencing the shower itself, actually. I think that by the time I was ready for it, the shower itself was closed. It was replaced by a large glass dome (about 5 feet tall and 10 feet in circumference) on which thousands of gourmet chocolates were artistically arranged. And so I started eating chocolates, avoiding the ones on the top of the dome, which had started to melt and had bird poop on them. And I ate my fill of chocolates.
But then I realized that I had to get home and the fastest way to get there was to run through a swampy field. So I ran through a swampy field barefoot, and when I got out of the field I thought that was dumb because it was probably full of leeches, and sure enough, there was a leech that was attached to my toe, so I had to get salt. So I went into the vacation home that my family was renting and El Senor and Reggie were in the kitchen and I asked them to give me the salt and they did, and it was a plastic, greasy salt grinder and I ground salt onto the leech and killed it.
THE END
Anyone care to interpret?
Not Disneyland, Part 2: A Screenplay
[It's 10:00 pm in the Terreno di Amore home. Cicada sits on the couch watching television. Murray comes downstairs towards her. She hears him as he comes.]
Murray: Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.
[Cicada fumbles for the remote and pauses her program.]
Cicada: What?
[Murray stumbles into the living room, holding his head.]
Murray: Oh no. Oh no.
Cicada: What happened?
Murray: I sliced my head open on the ledge of my drawing desk. I felt it go in deep. It's going to start bleeding a lot really soon.
Cicada: Oh! Okay. Um... let me help.
[Cicada and Murray go to the kitchen sink. Murray takes his hand away from the wound; two fingers are covered in blood. Cicada takes a paper towel, folds it in quarters, and applies it to the wound.]
Cicada: Should we go to the ER?
Murray: I could hear it slice into my head. I think I'm definitely going to need stitches. It's pretty deep.
Cicada: Okay. You go sit down. I'll call my visiting teacher because she's a nurse and she can tell us if we should go.
[Murray sits down and Cicada calls her visiting teacher.]
Cicada: Hi, Katie?
Katie (sounds groggy): Are you okay? Is everything okay?
Cicada: I'm fine. My husband cut his head on a desk and we were just wondering if we should go to the ER.
Katie: What does it look like?
Cicada: Hm. I haven't really looked at it. Let's see. [Removes paper towel from Murray's head. The wound isn't bleeding too badly.] Oh. It's about 3/4 inch long and the sides aren't touching... We should probably go to the ER, huh?
Katie: I hate to tell people not to go to the ER. Your biggest worry is that it would get infected. Since Instacare is closed, I'd go to the ER. Go to Orem Community because they're much less busy at night.
Cicada: Okay. Should I give him Tylenol or anything?
Katie: Don't give him anything, but you can put ice on it.
Cicada: Okay. Thanks. [Hangs up phone.] Okay, Murray. We do need to go to the ER.
Murray: Okay.
[Cicada gets an ice pack for Murray. Cicada and Murray leave the house together; Murray is wearing a t-shirt, pajama pants, and a nice grey blazer. Cicada is dressed as if she attended a fake funeral earlier in the day, which, in fact, she did.]
[In the car, driving to the hospital, Murray and Cicada begin to joke about their unexpected date to the ER and the events of the evening.]
Cicada: I think that I woke up my visiting teacher. She sounded pretty tired. Oh well. It's her job.
Murray: Do you think that she's ticked that you called?
Cicada: Uh, well, no. I mean, she's my visiting teacher. That's what they're supposed to do is be there to help and be called upon.
Murray: Yeah, but no one ever actually does that.
Cicada: Sure they do! You can ask your visiting teachers and home teachers to do stuff. That's what they're there for!
Murray: Yeah, but it's an unspoken rule that you don't actually ever take them up on their offer to help you if there's anything you need.
Cicada: That's so not true.
Murray: Yes it is. You're not supposed to actually ask them to do anything.
Cicada: I've always asked my visiting teachers or home teachers to do something for me if I needed their help. Like the one time that The Boy sat on my bed and it couldn't support both our weight and it broke. When my home teachers asked if there was anything they could do, I asked if either of them could weld metal. One said he could, and I told him that he could fix my bed for me! I gave him the broken parts and he fixed it! Or there was the time my grandma died and I called my visiting teacher at one in the morning to ask her to drive me and The Boy to the airport at 6:00 that very morning. This is how the system works!
Murray: Yeah, but nobody does that. At least it's not done here in Utah.
Cicada: You are a horrible person.
[The couple pulls up to Orem Community ER. They enter the tiny ER waiting/reception room. A mother with her son are ahead of them in line, checking in.]
Cicada: It's so funny waiting in line in an ER. No one ever seems to be in a big hurry.
Murray: I know! Don't they prioritize by the severity of the injury?
Cicada: Well, yeah, they probably do. But if you're waiting in line, they figure your injury isn't bad enough to warrant immediate care.
[Murray gives Cicada a skeptical look.]
Cicada: Well, it's true! If you had severed your arm, we wouldn't be standing here in line with me holding your severed arm. We'd get in right away.
Murray: I don't know. There's not many people around here.
Cicada: Yeah, but if I were waving around your severed arm, and we were yelling, people would come and help us immediately.
Murray: Oh, I know! You'd get immediate help if you came on an ambulance. You have to come by ambulance.
Cicada: You can drive up to the ER yourself and still get immediate assistance. Haven't you ever watched ER?
Murray: That's a dramatization and I don't watch shows like that.
Cicada: Well, people can just drive up, and they drag their friend's body through the doors and they yell, "Somebody help me! Help me!" If this were a serious injury, we'd be making a lot more noise.
Murray: But that's in places like Chicago.
Cicada: The same stuff happens here in Orem, too. Just on a less frequent basis. If we were making a lot of noise, we'd get service immediately.
[The receptionist finishes with the mother and son, and Murray and Cicada check in. They then go to their seats to wait and watch the Jay Leno show on TV.]
Murray: I hate that guy.
Cicada: Didn't you tell me yesterday that I have a prominent chin, but not a Jay Leno chin?
[Murray and Cicada intermittently watch the Jay Leno show, discuss whether or not they would choose to plastinate Murray's severed arm a la Body Worlds, and laugh about the fact that with Cicada's pregnant belly, everyone should assume that she's the one who needs to be in the ER.]
Cicada: Do you want me to take a picture of your head wound with my iPhone and then you can see it?
Murray: Yeah.
[Cicada takes a picture of Murray's head wound and then shows it to him. The couple laughs about the head wound. Others in the ER begin to get restless and ask when it's going to be their turn to leave. The mother and son are soon called away. Murray and Cicada are left alone in the room with one other ER patron, a plump young lady in her 20s.]
ER Patron: So why are you here?
Murray: I hit my head on the ledge of my desk and cut it open.
ER Patron: I figured you guys would be the first to be called in.
Cicada: Yeah... it's really not that bad. But we were wondering how people are prioritized.
ER Patron: This is a better place to come than Utah Valley Regional, though. The last time I went there, I waited for five hours.
Murray: Wow. This is lots better.
ER Patron: Yeah. [To Cicada:] When are you due?
Cicada: January 4th.
[They talk about the baby for a while until Murray and Cicada are called back to the ER. Back in the ER, a doctor and nurse inspect Murray's wound. They marvel at the amount of hair that has been mashed into the deep cut. They dig out the hair, disinfect the wound, and inject it with numbing agent to prepare for the staples. This is the most painful part, and Murray makes a face that communicates his pain and makes his insensitive wife laugh. The doctor inserts two staples into Murray's head, a la Frankenstein, and tell the couple they are free to leave as soon as they have their discharge/staple care instruction sheets. On their way out of the ER, Cicada generously offers to treat Murray to his copay. She whips out her wallet and pays the receptionist $200.]
Murray: Wow. Two hundred dollars.
Cicada: I know! We're slowly but surely spending all that money that we would have spent if we had decided to go to Disneyland.
Murray: I wouldn't have hurt my head and had to go to the ER if we'd gone to Disneyland. We could have had a wonderful day of fun and adventure at Disneyland for that amount of money.
Cicada: Instead we got to spend an hour in the ER. It's like Adventureland.
Murray: That is not my Fantasyland.
Murray: Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.
[Cicada fumbles for the remote and pauses her program.]
Cicada: What?
[Murray stumbles into the living room, holding his head.]
Murray: Oh no. Oh no.
Cicada: What happened?
Murray: I sliced my head open on the ledge of my drawing desk. I felt it go in deep. It's going to start bleeding a lot really soon.
Cicada: Oh! Okay. Um... let me help.
[Cicada and Murray go to the kitchen sink. Murray takes his hand away from the wound; two fingers are covered in blood. Cicada takes a paper towel, folds it in quarters, and applies it to the wound.]
Cicada: Should we go to the ER?
Murray: I could hear it slice into my head. I think I'm definitely going to need stitches. It's pretty deep.
Cicada: Okay. You go sit down. I'll call my visiting teacher because she's a nurse and she can tell us if we should go.
[Murray sits down and Cicada calls her visiting teacher.]
Cicada: Hi, Katie?
Katie (sounds groggy): Are you okay? Is everything okay?
Cicada: I'm fine. My husband cut his head on a desk and we were just wondering if we should go to the ER.
Katie: What does it look like?
Cicada: Hm. I haven't really looked at it. Let's see. [Removes paper towel from Murray's head. The wound isn't bleeding too badly.] Oh. It's about 3/4 inch long and the sides aren't touching... We should probably go to the ER, huh?
Katie: I hate to tell people not to go to the ER. Your biggest worry is that it would get infected. Since Instacare is closed, I'd go to the ER. Go to Orem Community because they're much less busy at night.
Cicada: Okay. Should I give him Tylenol or anything?
Katie: Don't give him anything, but you can put ice on it.
Cicada: Okay. Thanks. [Hangs up phone.] Okay, Murray. We do need to go to the ER.
Murray: Okay.
[Cicada gets an ice pack for Murray. Cicada and Murray leave the house together; Murray is wearing a t-shirt, pajama pants, and a nice grey blazer. Cicada is dressed as if she attended a fake funeral earlier in the day, which, in fact, she did.]
[In the car, driving to the hospital, Murray and Cicada begin to joke about their unexpected date to the ER and the events of the evening.]
Cicada: I think that I woke up my visiting teacher. She sounded pretty tired. Oh well. It's her job.
Murray: Do you think that she's ticked that you called?
Cicada: Uh, well, no. I mean, she's my visiting teacher. That's what they're supposed to do is be there to help and be called upon.
Murray: Yeah, but no one ever actually does that.
Cicada: Sure they do! You can ask your visiting teachers and home teachers to do stuff. That's what they're there for!
Murray: Yeah, but it's an unspoken rule that you don't actually ever take them up on their offer to help you if there's anything you need.
Cicada: That's so not true.
Murray: Yes it is. You're not supposed to actually ask them to do anything.
Cicada: I've always asked my visiting teachers or home teachers to do something for me if I needed their help. Like the one time that The Boy sat on my bed and it couldn't support both our weight and it broke. When my home teachers asked if there was anything they could do, I asked if either of them could weld metal. One said he could, and I told him that he could fix my bed for me! I gave him the broken parts and he fixed it! Or there was the time my grandma died and I called my visiting teacher at one in the morning to ask her to drive me and The Boy to the airport at 6:00 that very morning. This is how the system works!
Murray: Yeah, but nobody does that. At least it's not done here in Utah.
Cicada: You are a horrible person.
[The couple pulls up to Orem Community ER. They enter the tiny ER waiting/reception room. A mother with her son are ahead of them in line, checking in.]
Cicada: It's so funny waiting in line in an ER. No one ever seems to be in a big hurry.
Murray: I know! Don't they prioritize by the severity of the injury?
Cicada: Well, yeah, they probably do. But if you're waiting in line, they figure your injury isn't bad enough to warrant immediate care.
[Murray gives Cicada a skeptical look.]
Cicada: Well, it's true! If you had severed your arm, we wouldn't be standing here in line with me holding your severed arm. We'd get in right away.
Murray: I don't know. There's not many people around here.
Cicada: Yeah, but if I were waving around your severed arm, and we were yelling, people would come and help us immediately.
Murray: Oh, I know! You'd get immediate help if you came on an ambulance. You have to come by ambulance.
Cicada: You can drive up to the ER yourself and still get immediate assistance. Haven't you ever watched ER?
Murray: That's a dramatization and I don't watch shows like that.
Cicada: Well, people can just drive up, and they drag their friend's body through the doors and they yell, "Somebody help me! Help me!" If this were a serious injury, we'd be making a lot more noise.
Murray: But that's in places like Chicago.
Cicada: The same stuff happens here in Orem, too. Just on a less frequent basis. If we were making a lot of noise, we'd get service immediately.
[The receptionist finishes with the mother and son, and Murray and Cicada check in. They then go to their seats to wait and watch the Jay Leno show on TV.]
Murray: I hate that guy.
Cicada: Didn't you tell me yesterday that I have a prominent chin, but not a Jay Leno chin?
[Murray and Cicada intermittently watch the Jay Leno show, discuss whether or not they would choose to plastinate Murray's severed arm a la Body Worlds, and laugh about the fact that with Cicada's pregnant belly, everyone should assume that she's the one who needs to be in the ER.]
Cicada: Do you want me to take a picture of your head wound with my iPhone and then you can see it?
Murray: Yeah.
[Cicada takes a picture of Murray's head wound and then shows it to him. The couple laughs about the head wound. Others in the ER begin to get restless and ask when it's going to be their turn to leave. The mother and son are soon called away. Murray and Cicada are left alone in the room with one other ER patron, a plump young lady in her 20s.]
ER Patron: So why are you here?
Murray: I hit my head on the ledge of my desk and cut it open.
ER Patron: I figured you guys would be the first to be called in.
Cicada: Yeah... it's really not that bad. But we were wondering how people are prioritized.
ER Patron: This is a better place to come than Utah Valley Regional, though. The last time I went there, I waited for five hours.
Murray: Wow. This is lots better.
ER Patron: Yeah. [To Cicada:] When are you due?
Cicada: January 4th.
[They talk about the baby for a while until Murray and Cicada are called back to the ER. Back in the ER, a doctor and nurse inspect Murray's wound. They marvel at the amount of hair that has been mashed into the deep cut. They dig out the hair, disinfect the wound, and inject it with numbing agent to prepare for the staples. This is the most painful part, and Murray makes a face that communicates his pain and makes his insensitive wife laugh. The doctor inserts two staples into Murray's head, a la Frankenstein, and tell the couple they are free to leave as soon as they have their discharge/staple care instruction sheets. On their way out of the ER, Cicada generously offers to treat Murray to his copay. She whips out her wallet and pays the receptionist $200.]
Murray: Wow. Two hundred dollars.
Cicada: I know! We're slowly but surely spending all that money that we would have spent if we had decided to go to Disneyland.
Murray: I wouldn't have hurt my head and had to go to the ER if we'd gone to Disneyland. We could have had a wonderful day of fun and adventure at Disneyland for that amount of money.
Cicada: Instead we got to spend an hour in the ER. It's like Adventureland.
Murray: That is not my Fantasyland.
Not Disneyland
A few months ago, Murray's sisters announced that they were going to go to Disneyland for the first few days of December. Of course we were invited, but everyone basically understood that at that point, I'd be super pregnant and ready to burst at any moment.
Well, a little over a week ago, I realized that the trip was only a week away, and although I was pregnant, I didn't feel super pregnant, and I didn't feel as if I were ready to burst. I figured I'd be up for a trip to Disneyland. Murray loves Disneyland so much, and I really wanted the opportunity of going with him and his family and experiencing the park with him. (I went when I was 9 and was singularly unimpressed, to be honest. But I was ready for Murray to change my mind.)
So I told Murray that I figured we could go. I called the doctor and found out that 35 weeks was the cut off point for travel, and since I'd only be 34 weeks, I'd be okay to go. So we made plans to go to Disneyland, and we were really excited.
And then I went in for a diabetes appointment one week before we would have left, and I was reminded that I was actually 34 weeks. One week before leaving for Disneyland. Which would put me at 35 weeks when it was actually time to leave for Disneyland. Which is the cut off point for travel.
We went to the doctor's office the next morning for our regularly scheduled appointment and asked the doctor if it really was such a big deal for me not to travel at 35 weeks. And she said that she really couldn't recommend it. She said that we could go and be absolutely fine, or we could go and have the baby. She said that the choice was ours to make, but as our doctor, she had to recommend against it.
And Murray said that he'd bet money that I wouldn't have the baby while we were in California, but then we realized that we'd literally be betting $10,000 on it, because that's what it would cost to have an out-of-network baby.
So we canceled our trip. Poor, poor Murray. It's one of many sacrifices that we'll be making for this baby.
BUT, I figured that Murray needed a little getaway, not to replace Disneyland, but to at least make up for it in some small way. So yesterday we had a surprise date. I sent him to work dressed up in a shirt and tie and told him that we'd leave straight from work for our evening's activities.
After work, I picked Murray up and we drove together to Salt Lake City, where I took him to Madeline's, a steak house. Murray had recently decided that if he were able to choose his last meal, it would be a good steak. The decor of the steak house was very... not our style. There were animal heads mounted all over, and signs about cowboys. But our food was delicious!
After dinner, we headed to the Gateway to kill some time before the night's main (and still secret) event. When we headed back to the car, Murray was surprised that we weren't walking to the night's main event. He had guessed that I was taking him to a 3-D movie at the Planetarium. Nope!
We made our way closer and closer to the University of Utah and I started hinting at what we'd be doing. Within a couple of blocks of Kingsbury Hall, Murray finally figured out that we were going to see the Odyssey Dance Company's version of It's a Wonderful Life, Murray's favorite movie. I told him that it's a family tradition, since last year we went to Springville's local production of It's a Wonderful Life. Every year, we'll have to try and find a new adaptation of It's a Wonderful Life to see!
Murray is an excellent gift receiver, and he made me feel like I'd just given him the moon! We enjoyed the production very much and then had a nice drive back home.
So here is how our evening was like Disneyland:
* A themed restaurant with fake (or dead) animals.
* A Disney Princess---Sleeping Beauty. (See photo.)
* A show (Murray keeps telling me that Disneyland is not about the rides---it's about the shows).
Here is how our evening was not like Disneyland:
* Really good food for not too much money.
* No animatronics.
* About 1/5th of the expense.
* We didn't have a baby in the It's a Small World tunnel.
Murray my love, we'll make it to Disneyland soon!
Well, a little over a week ago, I realized that the trip was only a week away, and although I was pregnant, I didn't feel super pregnant, and I didn't feel as if I were ready to burst. I figured I'd be up for a trip to Disneyland. Murray loves Disneyland so much, and I really wanted the opportunity of going with him and his family and experiencing the park with him. (I went when I was 9 and was singularly unimpressed, to be honest. But I was ready for Murray to change my mind.)
So I told Murray that I figured we could go. I called the doctor and found out that 35 weeks was the cut off point for travel, and since I'd only be 34 weeks, I'd be okay to go. So we made plans to go to Disneyland, and we were really excited.
And then I went in for a diabetes appointment one week before we would have left, and I was reminded that I was actually 34 weeks. One week before leaving for Disneyland. Which would put me at 35 weeks when it was actually time to leave for Disneyland. Which is the cut off point for travel.
We went to the doctor's office the next morning for our regularly scheduled appointment and asked the doctor if it really was such a big deal for me not to travel at 35 weeks. And she said that she really couldn't recommend it. She said that we could go and be absolutely fine, or we could go and have the baby. She said that the choice was ours to make, but as our doctor, she had to recommend against it.
And Murray said that he'd bet money that I wouldn't have the baby while we were in California, but then we realized that we'd literally be betting $10,000 on it, because that's what it would cost to have an out-of-network baby.
So we canceled our trip. Poor, poor Murray. It's one of many sacrifices that we'll be making for this baby.
BUT, I figured that Murray needed a little getaway, not to replace Disneyland, but to at least make up for it in some small way. So yesterday we had a surprise date. I sent him to work dressed up in a shirt and tie and told him that we'd leave straight from work for our evening's activities.
After work, I picked Murray up and we drove together to Salt Lake City, where I took him to Madeline's, a steak house. Murray had recently decided that if he were able to choose his last meal, it would be a good steak. The decor of the steak house was very... not our style. There were animal heads mounted all over, and signs about cowboys. But our food was delicious!
After dinner, we headed to the Gateway to kill some time before the night's main (and still secret) event. When we headed back to the car, Murray was surprised that we weren't walking to the night's main event. He had guessed that I was taking him to a 3-D movie at the Planetarium. Nope!
We made our way closer and closer to the University of Utah and I started hinting at what we'd be doing. Within a couple of blocks of Kingsbury Hall, Murray finally figured out that we were going to see the Odyssey Dance Company's version of It's a Wonderful Life, Murray's favorite movie. I told him that it's a family tradition, since last year we went to Springville's local production of It's a Wonderful Life. Every year, we'll have to try and find a new adaptation of It's a Wonderful Life to see!
Murray is an excellent gift receiver, and he made me feel like I'd just given him the moon! We enjoyed the production very much and then had a nice drive back home.
So here is how our evening was like Disneyland:
* A themed restaurant with fake (or dead) animals.
* A Disney Princess---Sleeping Beauty. (See photo.)
* A show (Murray keeps telling me that Disneyland is not about the rides---it's about the shows).
Here is how our evening was not like Disneyland:
* Really good food for not too much money.
* No animatronics.
* About 1/5th of the expense.
* We didn't have a baby in the It's a Small World tunnel.
Murray my love, we'll make it to Disneyland soon!
Card Making
I meant to make Christmas card templates this year so that I'd be ready for the holiday season. It turns out that I should plan on having these done by September if I want to do them. So I'm missing out this year. But next year I'll be ready.
That doesn't mean that I can't make Christmas cards on demand. Here's the card that I made for El Senor to hand out to all his neighbors.
We were just sitting on the couch on Saturday and I was making cards for my sil's family, and a request was made to make a card for El Senor, but I didn't have a picture of him. So I just had to draw one. With one finger and a track pad, I would say this isn't such a bad job. And Murray, who did laugh at me when I drew the eye, then commented that it is actually very Picasso-esque. Murray can put a positive spin on anything.
That doesn't mean that I can't make Christmas cards on demand. Here's the card that I made for El Senor to hand out to all his neighbors.
We were just sitting on the couch on Saturday and I was making cards for my sil's family, and a request was made to make a card for El Senor, but I didn't have a picture of him. So I just had to draw one. With one finger and a track pad, I would say this isn't such a bad job. And Murray, who did laugh at me when I drew the eye, then commented that it is actually very Picasso-esque. Murray can put a positive spin on anything.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)