Driving Me to Eat Cookies

I finally finished reading Skinny Bitch for book club. I generally liked the book and found that it really reaffirmed my lifestyle choices. I'm not saying I'm perfect, you know, cause this is one heifer that likes to eat but in comparison to the rest of America I know that I run a pretty tight ship in terms of diet, clean living, green-ness, etc. Beyond that, the book inspired me to change a few things that I wasn't doing before. Today I dropped the kids off and went off to the nearby whole food grocer (not Whole Foods, sadly we don't have one) to get my improved lifestyle supplies as recommended by SB. On the way, I noticed the mini-van was a bit jumpy, but was committed to getting my grocery shopping done. I called Lars in the parking lot (where there were 3(!!!) carts in the handicap parking spot) and he called the local Honda service center to get an appointment. After the store, I busted home and put away everything then drove out to the Honda dearler. The fix-it guy took my keys and said he'll have the courtesy shuttle drive me home. No worries, we'll be in touch (I gave them Lars' phone, I don't like all this car BS). The shuttle dude dropped me off in our driveway and sped off, at which point I realized that my entire set of keys (Honda keys, VW keys, house keys, etc) were at the Honda serice center. Don't panic, I thought, I may have left the back slider open and even if I didn't I could try to climb through the doggy door (nimrod is 28-weeks pregnant -- not sure about that plan). I waddled (yep, waddling is a full-time gait for me now) over to the side gate where there is supposed to be a thin green cord hanging down that I pull on to unlatch the lock and then breezily waddle through. Well, the green cord was not there today, as it occasionally gets stuck on the other side of the gate due mostly in part to my rug rats. The gate is very high, so I couldn't just reach over and pull the cord to my side of the fence. I looked all around for something to stand-on . . . nothing. I searched the front yard for a stinkin' stick but Felix had just come and cleared our yard of debris (remember?) so there was nothing. Genius that I am, I decided to use my purse to try and catch the cord, or the lock, but my purse got stuck on the handle on the other side of the gate and I couldn't get it back over. Now would be the time to call my dear friend Karah, who is good and kind and would use her brain to help me. Alas, my cell phone was in my purse, hanging on the handle on the other side of that POS gate. I started to hiccup with a few tears. What to do?!?! I was all alone (in my driveway situated across from the community park where dozens of parents with cell phones were playing with their little ones) with no one to help me (neighbors on both sides home) and not a friend in the world (3 very good friends within 5-minute walk of dumb ass situation). I weighed my options as I began to note a small amount of pressure and tingling in my bladder -- this was becoming a desperate situation. There is a cement retaining wall adjacent to the gate and it was my only option. I carefully and ungracefully scaled the retaining wall and walked along the top until I approached the gate. Once I got to the gate, I straddled it like I was riding a damn horse, and yanked my big droopy ass up over to the other side.
The back side of the gate, with retaining wall that was jumped off by moi.
I was now standing on a 50" retaining wall, still big-ass pregnant heifer thank you very much, with the option to jump down onto the cement paver below or walk along the top of the wall toward a grassy area which is well-known to be infested with a large rat family. I'm not one for rats, so I chose to jump. I landed on my feet, surprisingly, grabbed my purse off the stupid latch and walked around to the back of the house where I had to climb through the doggy door to get inside.

Doggy door, tight squeeze.

Just kidding, I had left the slider open and so walked through that mo-fo like I owned the joint (which I do, own it, I mean). I flew to the bathroom to piddle, but it was a farce because the urgency to pee was more due to Ultimette hiccuping on my bladder than anything. Then, I called Lars and blubbered into the phone while I hunted down the box of "healthy", whole grain, whole wheat, trail-mix cookies that I had bought earlier today. I scarfed down two cookies, then answered the ringing phone with a mouthful of oats and other health crap to have the guy at the Honda dealer tell me that the transmission needs to be replaced, it will take 3-days and we've got some other stuff to address as well. I start crying again, Mr. Honda says "oh, Ma'am, I'm sorry I remember now that I was supposed to call your husband." We hang up, I stuff two more cookies in my mouth, grab some ice (not ice water just the ice which is my second favorite food these days because my hemoglobin is probably so low it rivals the force of Earth's gravitational pull on my boobs) and sit down to tell y'all all bout my morning -- about the car, the wall-scaling, the locked gate, and the falling off the SB bandwagon before I really even got started.

The afternoon should be even better because I have to get Petra and Soren from their school, go get little Annabeaner from her school, take Petra and Soren up to soccer (out by the Honda dealer) and get them home -- I suppose we'll do this all by bicycle? Call the press folks, this old cow is gonna work it on a two-wheeler. Never mind the fact that I have to get to and from work tomorrow. Lord help me, cause there be a mountain between here and work folks and I don't care what you once knew about my cardiac health -- I ain't that girl anymore and I sure as Hell can't pedal up a friggin' mountain to work. Not going to happen.

The good news? Last night Lars and I finally talked about baby names. This way, if I go into preterm labor with all my cookie-eatin' and bike-riding, the baby will have a name (or 4-names, since we arrived at a standstill).