I spent the weekend down in Houston with some old friends from highschool, two of which are getting married this summer, one of whom’s bridal shower prompted the trip. The third friend is one I haven’t seen since my own bridal shower, which was - eghad - FOUR YEARS ago. Time flies.

Three of us had girl time the traditional sleepover way, and it was lots of fun. Except, Leigh, I swear I didn’t mean to put you through the hours of boredom looking at EVERY SINGLE SCRAPBOOK I’VE EVER made. Of course it’s nice to have someone actually see the result of countless hours I’ve spent hunched over a table cropping, arranging and taping - but really, that wasn’t my intention when I brought them all down. I was only expecting to show one or two of them, and I would imagine that even THAT would border on unacceptable levels of forced boredom.

Looking back at that paragraph, I’m realizing that there’s no way any person with a brain bigger than a walnut would believe me. But it’s still true. God knows. He’s got my back. Yeah.

Anyway, I have come to realize that this is why I could never be a success as a salesman…er, saleswoman. I have guilt about advertising or forcing anything of mine on someone else, particularly someone I know. All those years of school fundraisers, bringing colorful overpriced junk catalogs to everyone in my neighborhood, church, and dad’s office were TORTURE. Absolute torture. And I still have guilt from it that requires me to purchase something from every 10-year old with a catalog that comes through. Still paying my dues.

And no, that was not a suggestion to send your kids my way with their popcorn and wrapping paper. I also eat children to get out of committing to fundraisers.

Anyway, thank goodness for patient friends that don’t make a big deal out of my occasional neurosis.

“I think I’m going to go to Old Navy during my lunch break today.”
“Oh?”
“I’m not really hungry, so there’s no point in spending money that I don’t need to spend.”
“So you’re going shopping instead.”
“Yeah.”
“Ok.”

Last night we went to Adventures Landing for my sis-in-law’s birthday party.

SOOOOO much fun!

Have to admit, I wasn’t really looking forward to it, especially once my doctor told me I couldn’t do the go-carts. And it was cold. Like, REALLY COLD.

But we had a great time. We started out at Sonic and then proceeded in true Progressive-Dinner Style to Cold Stone Creamery for ice cream cake.

Then off to Adventure’s Landing where we all played mini golf and J won. No big surprise because my husband has this UNCANNY KNACK at COMPLETELY ANNIHILATING everyone on silly games he never ever plays. He even beat my mom who got 4 - count them FOUR - hole-in-ones. It was always that way in college. Tennis, Pool, Ping-Pong, you name it. He could have played twice in his whole life and still wipe the table with everyone else.

I also got to play Laser Tag for the first time ever. Of course, that game wasn’t really fair because we were playing with Ryan, who spent a few years in military school…so naturally, he totally obliterated us lowly laser amateurs. He ended up with like 5000 shots. I got 75 in and thought I was doing pretty good.

BUT - I did pretty well at the token game where you try to hit the button in time to stop the racing light in just the right place. Won enough coupons to buy my brother an Airhead and a Whistle. THIS IS THE PART WHERE YOU ALL STAND UP AND APPLAUD MY BUTTON-SLAPPING SKILLS.

And just for the record, that crack in the button was ALREADY THERE.

So, Gap has some really cute spring dresses. Somebody, please go buy them and enjoy wearing them for me. I tried the other day, but even though I’m not technically showing yet, my waistline has so thoroughly disappeared that it was a futile (and somewhat depressing) effort.

Last night, J and I settled in for our Tuesday Night Tradition: Wings and American Idol. Lindsey Cardinale, it’s time to say goodbye. I think we will shortly be forced to add House to the Tuesday Tradition list, as it has kept us glued to our seats for the second week in a row. Stupid addictive TV shows.

Unfortunately, I have discovered as of late that one of the symptoms of pregnancy is a change in appetite. As in, things that were always good before just aren’t good anymore. And I think wings have fallen into that category. This is especially upsetting because I hate to spoil a good tradition. I gave it a valiant effort last night…but I think wings are officially out.

It’s becoming painfully obvious that pregnancy has all sorts of “symptoms” that quite frankly, I could do without. I got an update email the other day about “5 embarassing pregancy symptoms: gas & bloating, constipation, hemorrhoids, yeast infections, and diarrhea.”

OH GOODIE.

Of course, the article didn’t mention acne, stretch marks, fat, cavities and tooth decay, and the myriad of other wonderful contributions of hormones and so forth.

Someone actually complimented me the other day on my skin. Apparently after I scrub, mask, exfoliate, tone, oil-free moisturize, slather on makeup, and style my hair so it covers as much of my face as possible, my skin looks decent to the casual observer. Who’d have thought?

It’s times like this when I question God about why 9 months was entirely neccessary. I think tape worms have the right idea.

But that’s probably a discussion for another philosophical blog and I’m not in the mood. Right now I just want some chocolate.