Exciting news from the world of Rasbaby!

I'm too tired to write much, but I just couldn't go to bed without telling you guys.

The doctor confirmed that Rasbaby is made of sugar and spice and everything nice.
That's right, she's a girl.

Everything looks healthy and right so far.

We're still working on names, though we're trying to keep that last detail a surprise.
Here are some Ras-photos for your enjoyment:

If you're not a pro at reading ultrasounds, the baby is in profile, with her head toward the right side of the frame, facing up. Just above her head, there is one little hand waving at us.

Schadenfreude or bad manners?

"Enjoy ____ while you can, because soon, you won't be able to anymore!"

There are a number of phrases that could fit in that blank. Sleeping. Eating in restaurants. Going on vacation. Privacy. Sex. My marriage. A social life. My cute little purse. Disposable income.

I'm not even halfway through my pregnancy, and I've heard them all.

Coworkers, casual acquaintances, and even strangers say this to me on a regular basis. They always follow their statement with a self-satisfied laugh, as if they have stumbled upon the most brilliant and perfect thing to say to a hormonal woman going through one of the biggest changes of her life.

A Tale of Five Kidnappings

This past weekend, I kidnapped my husband, Sam.

Kidnapping is one of my favorite traditions.

I'm proud to say that I came up with the idea, and I initiated the first kidnapping just over 5 years ago.

Sam and I were young, poor, and living in an apartment that had all the worst aspects of dorm life (loud neighbors, faraway laundry rooms) minus the meal plan.

Student loan payments had a way of sneaking up on us. One night we had to gather up all of our pocket change and rush to the casino, desperate to cash it in for some real money to cover our bills.

Requiem for a piercing

"How long have you had it?" The heavily tattooed man had the stature of a Lord of the Rings extra. He was small, his posture awkward. He was Queequeg of the Shire.

I performed some quick calculations and reminded myself of my age. "Well, I'm 28 now, so that would make it.... Ten years."

---------

In high school, I was a good kid. Sure, I instigated some drama, but for the most part, I was a good teenaged citizen. I was a straight-A student. I belonged to the environmental club, played the piano, and volunteered at the V.A. on weekends. I said no to sex, drugs, and alcohol. My non-controversial appearance was warmly sanctioned by my mother: Long blond hair, carefully applied makeup in neutral shades, perfectly average body weight, wardrobe by The Gap. There wasn't a crowd in Fargo that I couldn't blend right into.

Then I started college.