music to our ears

Heartbeat at 10 weeks

I have a hard time remembering to call our OB an OB or doctor, not “the vet.”  This isn’t helped by the fact our doc’s voice sounds just like Dr. Kevin Fitzgerald from Animal Planet’s Emergency Vets, and I suppose it’s appropriate that Dr. KF is an exotic animal vet. At the moment, our baby resembles a very exotic version of some sort of salamander-super-intelligent human hybrid, or a beakless baby bird.



I figured I should finally post again and it makes sense to start with this as it blends so nicely with the previous post.

What the hell is wrong with me?

When I read this post about “brown fat” or “baby fat” I start craving butter, like onions and tenderised blade steak sauteed in a whole stick’s worth of browned butter.

Insert copyright protected Homer Simpson drooling image here.

Mmmm…browned butter, babies and blade steak…

Spring Cleaning

Or avoidance thereof.  New blog, new name, new template, we’ll see how this works out.

On the one hand, I’d like a place to just blargh.  On the other, what’s the point of writing for nobody but yourself, sharing without intent to actually share with anyone?   I miss just saying whatever.  But I think I’ve been biting my tongue for so long, I’m not sure what’s left, if I’ve trained myself so well in “better not” that I’ve got nothing interesting to say at all.  Sigh.  Sounds very seventies woman writer-ish. Meh.

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