third verse same as the first.

I had a very successful trip to Utah. In less than 72 hours time I managed to eat a Cafe Rio salad, a Burger Supreme cheeseburger with fries AND onion rings and Bangkok Thai's paad siew. You never really appreciate your home town's culinary treasures until you're away from them. I look forward to my return in three weeks when it will have become necessary to eat a J Dawg and Joe Vera's guacamole.

Ollie had a haircut yesterday.

I never realize how badly I need to vacuum until I see our floor in pictures.

Here's the thing about Ollie. He wouldn't hurt a fly. Unless that fly was trying to groom him. Anytime we even attempt to get near him with a brush, he channels Satan. It's all teeth and snarling and demonic noises. So I wasn't really surprised when the groomer recommended that next time we sedate him. 

Here's the other thing about Ollie. He was born to model. I kid you not, as soon as I pull out the camera, he starts striking poses. He willingly steps into the light and stares right at the lens. Or glances to the side and holds a profile pose.

Top Model All Stars got nothin on Ollie. 

but i'm not the only one

One of the latest symptoms of my "condition" is CRACKED OUT dreams. I live a quiet, peaceful existence during the day, but when my eyes are closed, boy howdy it's a wild ride. Last night via REM cycle, I was somehow kidnapped and forced to work as an intern for the Sarah Palin/Michelle Bachman campaign (My dreamself thinks they're running together). As their indentured servant, my duty was to buy their cigarettes. American Spirit cigarettes. Because we all know Palin's a total hipster.

I would hand them cigarettes under the table. Then they would kick me.

About three seconds later I was in a seamstress' living room. She was making me a prom dress, and while cutting the fabric said over and over "Since you're so fat, I'll have to cut it extra wide."

Help.

BOO

Don't cry, it's only a blog post.

Stephen and I have decided to pass on any real holiday celebrations this year. We really look forward to to putting a ten-month old in some adorable costume next year, but feel very little desire to make any effort this October 31. So while Stephen is home studying,  I'm in Utah for a couple days. If you're a Utah resident, I love you and I want to see you, but I want to see you over Thanksgiving or Christmas when I have more than two minutes to spend with you.

It turns out that air travel is a complete faisco no matter how short the flight. Turns out that even if you're flying for fifty minutes from Denver to Provo, and even if you're 7 months pregnant and unable to bend over, you still have to take off your boots to go through security. Yes, it takes ten minutes to take them off, and another ten to put them back on. However, if 7 months pregnant, you do not have to go through the full body scan, though I like to think that Ivy would have waved to the good folks of TSA.

There's that moment when, after you've heard your fellow passenger's complete life story, you realize that there's thirty minutes left in the flight you have nothing left to ask or say. You stare out the window, pretending to take in the grandeur, but instead really focusing on the smudged glass and wondering what disgusting human caused it. You pull out your mobile electronic device and act like trying to beat solitaire is the most important thing you've ever done. You occasionally say "I hope we land soon," or "I wish they gave us more than half a drink," and then fall back into silence. You wonder, "Am I completely incapable of human interaction?", "Am I as awkward as I fear?", "Yes. I am," you decide and sip your gingerale in horror.
Happy Halloween!

allergic to chestnuts and good haircuts

Oh, internet.



Pictured below is my aunt Shauni with her family:

Shauni is young, beautiful, the mother to all four of those children, and today she's going through her sixth and final chemotherapy treatment.

I doubt that anyone, when making goals says to themselves, "I'd really like to go through chemo." We do things like run marathons and swim accross channels to push ourselves mentally and physically and to find our limits. Yet I don't think there's anything more limit revealing or taxing on a body than what Shauni's gone through these past long months. And while it's not anything any of us would ever willingly sign up for, she's handled it with all the strength and endurance of a champion.

It's terrible and shocking that a young, beautiful mother of four young children can get breast cancer. But I hope that after today Shauni can feel a little bit proud. She's done what even the fastest runner or strongest swimmer would be afraid to, and she deserves a medal.

i really can't stay

Season's Greetings from Colorado!

At last, the white Halloween we've all been dreaming of. This premature snow fall is actually easing my guilt about the lack of autumny decor up in here. The only Fallish thing I've done is buy a bag of candy corn and pour it into a bowl. Since I'm the only member of the Walter household who eats candy, it's me v. the candy corn as I attempt to guage how long it should take a normal person to consume an entire bag. 3 days?


Baby Ivy is due three months from today. Last night she got so excited about her arrival that she started hiccupping. Ok. Fine. I'm projecting emotions onto a fetus. But I promise it's better than the truth. The truth is that she swallowed too much amniotic fluid. See? Gross.

first you're worried, then you're hurried

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I had some time on my hands, so I decided to take a walk and photograph the changing leaves in our neighborhood. Ollie and I meandered down the road, stopping now and again to shoot a tree. After pausing at one especially vibrant deciduous, I glanced behind me and saw a very looking nervous mother sitting in a parked mini-van. She was staring directly at me. I've never considered myself to be particularly threatening looking, but I guess to her the image of a predator is a pony-tailed pregnant woman walking a miniature schnauzer. I quickly walked away, and seconds later looked back to see her dart into her house. I came home a little embarrassed and told Stephen all about it. As is often the case, he had a very different interpretation. "Well there was obviously something in her house that she didn't want you to see," he said. "Probably a dead body," I added, letting my imagination run a bit wild. I both like and dislike Stephen's approach. I like that it means I'm less likely to show up on America's Most Wanted. I dislike that it means a hit man is more likely to show up at my door.

Anyway, here's the photo that may get me arrested/killed.

Probably not worth it.