You may have noticed something strange in my last post – a disclaimer at the FTC. As you may have seen elsewhere, the FTC has decided to watch out for you, the consumer, by making us Wild West critics fess up that we may not be completely honest with you because we are swayed by the big bad corporations.

I know, I’m exaggerating. But for a reason…do you really think 90% of us sit here and go “yes, free stuff! I promise to say I love it and have my throngs of followers worship you even if it’s crap!” In a word, no. But the FTC is worried about that 10% who might not be so scrupulous.

I know I’m a tiny little flea in the world of swaying the almighty consumerist dollar. I don’t have a large following, if I even have any following. I more often tell strange tales of my life working on shows and having a day job or the strange things that pass as “normal” in our family life than I do tell you about the books I read, products I buy or other things that qualify as a product review. Heck, I’ve even started to get a little snarky on book reviews because it’s fun to crack my girlfriends up while being honest about a book plot.

I can honestly tell you the only ARC I have ever reviewed here is one I blatantly said was an ARC. The books I’ve received as a give-away, either as a prize for a contest well-won or the one time I’ve gotten something from an author, have been noted. Unless stated otherwise, my books come from one of three sources: my local library, a PaperBackSwap trade or my own hard-earned cash. My husband works in retail – formerly for Linens ‘n’ Things, Best Buy, a wine distributor and various movie theaters. As such, we did receive discounts on some purchases but never have I received something for free because of this connection from the retailer. He now works for a retail servicer, and as such we get pretty much nothing. Any product reviews (like how I love my wash machine due to it’s delayed start), are based on experience and not because somebody gave me something to make it sound awesome. In the event this ever changes, despite my tiny influence, I’ll make sure to warn you.

And while I love the government…I’m siding with a folksong here (and if you’re really curious, I’ll go figure out which…but my recording is at home): Judge, the good folks don’t need your laws and the rest won’t listen.

Disclaimer: Have not read this book, this is a repost of a review elsewhere. I’m not posting this to fish for the book. Now go away, FTC.

The Bald One and I were hunting a DVD on Tuesday in our local blue box electronics mecca, when I spotted a disturbing sight: gift cards with Christmas and Hannukah designs. When I turned to the fresh faced youth busily formatting many a computer and asked, he offered (rather like “I don’t get it either but can’t say so”) that it was perhaps for the early shoppers out there. I guess that’s fair – today’s economic climate being what it is, you have to get people’s attention now, so that maybe they can put away the funds to purchase or (insanely enough) plop that puppy on layaway.

Usually this time of year is when my liver begins to get a workout. There’s the national business meeting for work (Germans + meeting = alcohol), followed by the annual bash for Halloween at our abode. The major holidays fall in quick succession after that – wine at Thanksgiving, holiday parties with coworkers and friends, Yule at our place involves mulled wine and spirits around a real tree and opening of presents, followed by Christmas dinner at two parental places and wrapping it all up on New Year’s Eve. While occasionally there is someone in attendance who goes to excess, it usually isn’t me. I’m too busy making sure everyone is having a good time and making a stab at cleaning up before passing out in my bed leaving the hardy fools to their demise. Not so much this year.

I survived my work function so far with soda. I split a martini (gasp!) with the Bald One at Opening Night and lived to tell the tale. But knowing that I’d love to have a mimosa with brunch (that we keep pushing off until “sometime”), or that having something pretty looking and tasty other than water would be great…seeing this review made my heart happy.

One I’d seriously like to try? the Pomegranate Cooler -

5-7 fresh or frozen blueberries
2 oz pomegranate juice
2 oz white grape juice
3 oz sparkling pomegranate soda
1 lemon slice

Muddle the blueberries in the bottom of a  tall glass. Then add ice and pour in the juices. Fill the glass to the top with sparkling pomegranate soda, and place a lemon slice on top of the drink. Sip through a colorful straw.

Doesn’t that sound great? And it’s fall! Pomegranate season is in. To see what else is there, a few recipes are listed on the review or you can pick up a copy.

On Sunday, I drove myself (in a car without cruise control!) out to the almost-farm country on the other side of the Triangle. Part of the point of this adventure was to learn something I never quite got with my mother – how to cook vegetables. In all fairness to my mom, we’re mainly of Eastern European descent…which means most of our cooking is meat, potatoes and boil the heck out of everything until losing their flavor. Maybe not literally, but it often feels that way.

While hanging out with StubbornDev and Lil Bit, I got to have a glimpse into my future – Lil Bit is potty training. I’d say something crazy like it reminds me of the cats, but at least with children you can reason and maybe teach…but that’s unfair to both cats and kids. You can sometimes teach cats and often you cannot reason with children.

Getting back to the veggies…one thing I’ve realized is that I need more of them in my life. I live near the state farmer’s market, which I just need to go to more often and ask more questions. But there are other ways to cook veggies than boil the flavor out of them…blanching, roasting, grilling, sautee and even the occasional fun with a wok. Heck, we even have a veggie size wok. Just because the Bald One isn’t a veggie fan doesn’t mean I can’t cook up a single serving.

Part of my education was reading Nourishing Traditions. This book reminds you that eating is fuel, and fuel should be high grade and not over processed. I’ve been reminded that oatmeal, when done right, doesn’t have the consistency of runny snot. Milk is actually better when it’s full of milk fat. Butter is actually made from milk fat, and not chemically cooked up margarine that tastes about the same. While my darling husband does much of the cooking, small changes can be made around him – cous cous in bulk that we flavor ourselves, whole grain pasta cooked correctly tastes just as good, brown rice…and his favorite change is beef to die for from the guy who raised the cows. Sure we’ll probably still break out the occasional Hamburger Helper, but we’ll now add beef from the guy at the market and eggs from local chickens. Small changes will be easier (on us and the pocketbook), but they’ll make all the difference. Even if tomatoes are evil.

Let me just begin with: don’t read this one if you’re hormonal, prone to cry at animals potentially suffering or tear up at Hallmark commercials. If you fit in one of these categories, please do read, but with a box of tissues handy. I cleared out my sinuses.

For those that grew up with a dog, you know how the bond of family that really ties you with your “family pet.” This is often a relationship that teaches you things you never quite fully understand until you’re an adult. My husband’s cat taught his goddaughter how to crawl. My family dog taught me that snoring was okay, to occasionally be tenacious, and just how to always be there when someone needed you. These are the deep-set feelings that you immediately tap into on the opening pages.

This book is written from the dogs point of view, on the eve of his death. He stages it carefully, so to choose best his time as he knows that his family no longer needs him. He reflects through his life from being chosen from the cruel man who cared for his mother to meeting the woman who’d share his owner’s heart with him. Where this book excels is the thing that sells romance novels – emotion. Every single page makes you feel like you are really, emotionally living with these people. You never quite see the house in your mind so you are free to fill in what says “home” to you. You don’t know exactly where in foggy Seattle they’re living, but you have a sense of these people’s lives day-to-day. You can forget that they may be a continent away from you because this could happen in your neighborhood.

I will say, for the tears you shed throughout and in the last pages, it is a happy book. The pay off is worth the pain. I’d put this in the great stocking stuffer list for anyone you know that has a dog.

Today was my second OB appointment. A quick in and out to make sure I’m doing fine, baby’s fine and answer any questions I might have. I hit her with my list and we ran through all of it pretty quick and we set up the next appointment which is the big reveal.  This means its time to place your bets — boy, girl or uncooperative gummi bear.

Just to fill you in…this past weekend the Bald One and I told our parents the news that they’ll be grandparents this spring. My brother cursed me for revealing this on his weekend. The kid, as he put it, has “accomplished one thing in his adult life” and that was graduating from paramedic school. We’re ungodly thrilled for him, but I’d sort of planned on telling M&D before I found out it was his graduation weekend. I did feel bad…just could do much about it. With this sharing, I can now reveal a few hidden posts: EA – maybe, EA: 5 weeks, First appt scheduled and one reference xcsd. Nothing terribly thrilling, but it’s all there.

The Bald One and I played this game yesterday.

We figured out that our progeny will almost definitely have blue eyes, begin life as a blonde and have B+ blood. Past that, it’s a crapshoot. In about thirty weeks, we’ll start to find out.

So I’m home alone, as the Bald One has taken off for work. That being said, and me being a hormonal gal right now, I decided to watch LifeTime when I found that they’re showing Because I Said So. But there’s a great moment where the mom, realizing she’s been wrong about trying to control her daughter’s life, is leaving yet another answering machine message. She says:

If you’re in any way still pulled to Johnny, please don’t let your pride or our differences come between you getting what you want. Otherwise honey, you’re going to end up like some pathetic character in a Tennessee Williams play.

Excellent.  It’s very much something my mom would have to say. And this chacter has very many undertones of my mom. So I feel for her. And it’s cracking me up at the same time.

Speaking of Tennessee Williams, we want to put the following warning on our audience door:

the use of loud noises, flashing lights and excessive tongue may disturb some viewers

Yes, we’re having that much fun.

Today I scheduled my first obstetrics exam.

Just typing that seems funny, and almost makes things feel real. A small reassurance, as the only clue I’ve had that I’m actually pregnant has been my ability to fall asleep about two or three hours before I normally would. No morning sickness except an occasional wave of nausea now and then. Nothing major in terms of the usual culprits mentioned. Just no period and an occasional pulling sensation as things move around.

The doctor I chose, based on her affiliation with Western Wake, her website and a few of her reviews, only does first appointments on Thursdays. This blows a hole in the careful plan the Bald One and I made so that he could be there. I opted for early afternoon – so I could get back to work before leaving for the show that night. I then sent the Bald One a text telling him the time of the ultrasound and appointment. Poor boy is supposed to be in Myrtle Beach that week.

During one of the breaks this evening, he was discussing the schedule with his manager. He talked about how he didn’t have to be there, but how he really should be and would it be a problem if he maybe rolled out that morning to drive home and drove back getting in late for the start of the Thursday night shift. His manager guessed that he’s about to be a daddy. He just smiled. With that, he was told to “do what he needed to do”

Three weeks.

We’ve reached that point of the summer where we have a random sudden storm in our afternoon. Every once in a while, the rain will hold off, like a pregnant pause, until early evening just to ruin your grilling of dinner. Tonight, we released our first actor for the evening  and as we heard him open the door to the parking lot, we heard the skies open. There’s no chance he reached his car drive.

It’s an interesting thing to watch. The day goes from sparking with light and heat one minute to having a dark, ominous cloud smother all. We then see a quick flash along the horizon and a boom follows moments behind. That’s the only warning you get, as we go from this scarce moment before to full on storm. The rain pours down, and people slow down their cars or quicken their steps. Televisions blink, and people leave their offices to stare out windows. After a moment of admiring the power in the storm, people return to what they left. The skies clear and the sun shines as if nothing happened.

Just another fun treat of summer.

Conversation the Bald One and I have via text messaging:

Bald One: So how’s the carrier of the seed sized bundle of cells?
Rae: The lil parasite and I are fine. Didn’t especially like someone’s lunch and didn’t terribly enjoy morning…but we got thru it
Bald One: Aww.
Rae: Yea.
Bald One: Ah. You should be heading to the nasty nausea stage. Apologies.
Rae: Just about. So far, just queasy.

Our parasite is going to be one warped little child, since we seem to prefer referring to it as such. Course, at this stage, it looks and acts more like a parasite than anything else. The joys of parenthood are without number…