Tonight Jon and I went to the movies. But not together. We went separately, in different cars, at different times, with different people, to different movies, at different theaters.

No, we aren’t mad at each other.

Jon decided to have a Guys Night Out, and they went to see the new Bond movie.

While me, my mom and her husband, and my sis went to see:

Transporter 3… which is about one-third as entertaining as the original Transporter. The plot? I’m still kinda scratching my head about: bad guy hires Frank (my boyfriend, Jason Statham) to drive a “package” (which is the token hot chick in the movie) all over the European continent until finally arriving at the final destination for the “delivery”. And who is waiting to pick up the package? None other than the bad guy himself.

Umm, what? Bad guy, why didn’t you just get on a jet with her and take a two hour flight to get to where you needed to be with the chick at the end of the movie?

Oh… because then there wouldn’t have been a movie. A movie showcasing this:

Lots of fight scenes with Jason with his shirt off! And while the bare-chested fight scenes weren’t quite as awesome as the bare-chested oily fight scene in the original movie, well, I wasn’t complaining.

And he had the usual sweet black Audi, which he managed to manuver on two wheels between two big rigs during this latest enstallment. And amazingly this did nothing to mess up his alignment, because he still drove crazy good afterward.

And there was of course a hot damsel in distress. Who had a hard time delivering lines in English; very reminiscent of the first Transporter. And Luc Besson (while I would never, ever ask him to stop making these awesome movies) writes romantic dialog about as well as George Lucas in the Star Wars movies. And at one point the damsel in distress held Jason’s car keys hostage until he agreed to do a strip tease for her. At which point my sister leaned over to me and whispered, “He can take out a group of 12 huge guys, but he can’t get a set of keys from one skinny girl?” And then I punched her for ruining it for me.

But bad acting and nonsensical situations aside, Jason did what he does best. He was very creative with the beating up and killing of people. Like here, when he used a falling helmet from the overhead compartment as a weapon, in lieu of a gun.

So to recap:

Lots of fast cars.

Lots of bare chests.

Lots of fighting.

And wait… did I mention bare chests?

Hi this is Zoe.I have homemade hats for sale. Each hat is $1.00. Here’s what they look like.

(click pictures to make bigger)

Leave a comment to buy one.I will send you it.

So, you know how I told you that I was distracted from NaNoWriMo by a shiny contest? And I entered my post about pumpkin pie and World of Warcraft? (Two things, strangely enough, that are rarely written about at the same time.)

Well…

I won!

Well, me and one other person. The judge couldn’t decide between our two posts. Because one was funny, and one was serious and heartfelt. So, y’know, apples and oranges.  (And mine wasn’t considered the “heartfelt” one, in case you didn’t catch that. Although I was completely serious about all of the events chronicled in my post.)

So we are splitting the grand prize! I am now the happy recipient of 6 months’ worth of yummy-smelling Suave products. I’m not sure exactly how much “6 months’ worth” actually is, but I’m stoked to find out! And with any luck at all, something in there will smell like pumpkin or nutmeg or something.

But now, back to NaNoWriMo. Have you been lookin’ at my word counter over there? I’m over 13,000 words so far.

My secret? I draw my writing stamina and strength from pie. And I’m thinking that having nice smelling hair can’t hurt, either.

Jachin and Zoe had their first duet recital tonight. They’d been practicing with the neighbor kids for weeks and weeks, and the night finally came. There were some nerves… I thought Jachin was actually going to throw up at a certain point before his performance. And when they called Zoe’s name, she stood up from her seat but wouldn’t walk over to the piano without a little coaxing.  But they did just fine. They did fabulously, in fact.

Here they are after the recital with their certificates:

And for the video:

Oh! Susannah

Ode to Joy

Chop Sticks

(You can tell that he likes playing this one. And I love that he’s all worried about someone turning the page for them.)

Echo March

Sweetheart Tag
The rules are as follows:

Each person answers questions about their sweetheart. At the end of the post, the person tags 6 people and posts their names. Then, go to their blog and leave them a comment letting them know they have been tagged.

What is your husband’s name? Jonny G, known in the cyberworld as “Donjuanica”

How long have you been married: 10 years, baby

How long did you date? About a year and a half. I knew him for about 6 months before we started dating, though. He was actually engaged to someone else when I first met him.

How old is he? 35

Who is taller? Only two people in the world are shorter than me: Mary Lou Retton and Gary Coleman. Jon is neither of these people.

Who can sing best? We probably sing about the same, but I like to sing and he doesn’t so much.

Who is smarter? Him… on the left side of the brain, anyway. He is able to be very analytical and I’m more creative and nuts.

Who does laundry? Me.

Who pays the bills? I physically pay the bills with the money he brings home.

Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? Like, the right side when you’re looking at the bed, or lying in the bed? Looking at the bed: me.

Who mows the lawn? Jon

Who cooks dinner? Usually me, but Jon’s actually the better cook.

Who is the first to admit when they are wrong? We’re both okay with admitting when we’re wrong. Neither of us is too stubborn…usually.

Who kissed who first? He kissed me, and it’s a very sweet story. The boy had some moves, I tell ya.

Who wears the pants? Skinny pants: him. Maternity pants: me.

I’m tagging anyone who wants to brag about their sweetie.

Guess what I did Saturday night? I totally partied. Like a rock star. Like someone who isn’t old and pregnant and totally uncool.

But first, a little backstory: My very first concert was when I was 12. It was New Kids on the Block and Tiffany. But really, at the time I wasn’t as interested in Tiffany as I was in the New Kids. Donnie in particular. He was the “bad boy” of the group. See, here he is wearing a badass bandana and a shirt with skulls… and not just regular skulls, but skulls that eat their own crossbones!!

I know, totally hot, right? And when I was 12, I thought that I was going to marry this guy. But then I got a little older and figured out that although it’s fun to date the bad boys, you don’t marry them. (Just to clarify though: I never had the chance to actually date Donnie.) That first concert was amazing. I squealed my guts out. Had I been close enough to the stage, I would have flung my training bra up to them. And then my mom would have made me go up there and get it back, because that would have been wasteful and over her dead body would she have shelled out another $12 for another training bra when I had a perfectly good one, but decided to throw it at some boys. I mean, that’s what would have happened, if we were front row. But we weren’t.

So Saturday?? The New Kids (hereafter referred to as NKOTB) came to Salt Lake City for their reunion tour. And I went, baby. I went with three of Jon’s five sisters, all of whom also attended NKOTB for their first concert. Two of them — the twins, Jen and Juli — also happened to be FRONT ROW at their first concert… which made me jealous, even hearing about it 18 years after the fact. I don’t know for sure if any training bras were thrown at that particular concert. And they told me that Jon, their then-teenage sweetheart of a brother, made them posters to take to the concert. Posters that he made himself with the New Kid’s faces drawn on them. And according to his sisters, Jon drew them pretty well. (And this is why I know that I married the right guy… because bad boys wouldn’t think enough of their sisters to make sweet posters for them to take to a stupid concert.)

So Saturday we drove up to Salt Lake and had our second experience with NKOTB. It had been 20 long years for me, and it was so. much. fun. As usual, I had the camera glued to my face. Because as a (recently lagging) blogger, I experience much of life through the lens (or LCD screen) in order to share it with the world. Or at least twenty or so readers. And in one way it’s good, because I had 99 pictures and video clips by the end of the night, to upload for posterity. And everyone’s all excited that I got some good shots. But I was probably the person there who was least in the moment because instead of thinking “Holy crap I can’t believe I’m here! How can I possibly get back stage and make out with Donnie??” I was thinking, “Holy crap, I hope my camera battery doesn’t die before I can get video of Jen and Juli dancing, and is my focus working right??” Yep, that’s where my head kinda was. Though there were definitely some moments where I was ga-ga over being in the presence of Donnie, and you will find that my pictures are very “Donnie Heavy”. (Sorry girls, there weren’t very many shots of Jordan.) You can totally tell who my favorite still is.

A few highlights:

In order to get into the NKOTB spirit, and channel the fashion insanity of the 80’s, we first had to all peg-roll our pants. If you were at all fashionable in the 80’s, you know what this is:

Yes, my shoes are the least attractive of the bunch. They are comfortable. And orthopedic. And if my water breaks, I’m not worried about ruining a good pair of shoes.

Joe, looking nice, and still the “baby” of the group. (But “baby” now means that he’s not yet in his 40’s.)

Jordan, who can still sing higher than most chicks I know. I can only imagine the painful rituals he goes through before hitting the stage each night.  In fact, he may be pinching himself here. I’m not sure.

The hot mamas in attendance. That’s me, Juli, Jen, Lin, and Paige down in front. Paige is a friend of all the sisters. She smacked people with her arm in order to get us lower seats. She also beat the guy at the snack bar to get us free nachos. (Not really, but I totally wanted to ask her.)

My “35 weeks” shot. In my concert t-shirt, scored in the parking lot for less than half price. Cha-ching!

And when you’re a blogger and have the camera glued to your face, you are the only one who can get the money shots like this:

… and while everyone else is saying, “Woah, did Donnie just grab his crotch?”, I am already uploading it to facebook.

And all of my neurotic blogger worrying was for nothing, because I DID get video of Jen and Juli dancing before my camera battery died:

Much love, New Kids. We out.

A few days ago, Jon came home from work and informed me that Jon’s boss and his wife want to go to dinner with us. A few days ago I was still getting over a cold, still rather congested, and experiencing the overall feeling of swollen, unattractive fatness that comes with the butt-end of pregnancy. But I’m always up for a night out, and any excuse to get a sitter on a weekend and go out with my husband, I’ll take it. I don’t care who we go with. So we are going tonight.

Still, I guess I was a little worried about making an impression on the boss. A good impression. Because sometimes I can leave a weird, or uncomfortable, or obnoxious impression without meaning to. It’s just me being myself. And I don’t think I’m completely socially retarded, but I can say weird things sometimes.  And sometimes I feel like people have a hard time figuring out how to read me the first few times they’re around me. So I voiced my concerns to my husband.

Me:     “A night out with the boss, huh?”

Jon:     “Yeah.”

Me:     “So I have to put on my ’social hat’?”

Jon:     “Yep.”

Me:     “And be charming and witty?”

Jon:     “Yep.”

Me:     “But probably reel it in a little?”

Jon:     “Yeah, probably a little…. um,  at least a little.”

Me:     “Be a little less like myself?”

Jon:     “Ok.”

Me:     “Be less hilarious?”

Jon:     “No, you can be hilarious. Hilarious is good. But, y’know, actual hilarious. Not what you think is hilarious.”

Me:     “You don’t think I’m hilarious?”

And staring at me for a moment, and realizing there was no good and honest response to this question, he crammed a bunch of food into his mouth and acted like he couldn’t talk.

So tonight I am putting on my social hat and waddling out the door to dinner with my husband — who, obviously, has no idea what real hilarious is –  and his boss and his boss’s wife. And I will try to be on very good behavior and only crack jokes that other people think are funny. I guess I could go a completely different route and try to be sophisticated, and boring, and complain about being pregnant, and drink my drink while holding my pinkie finger out, and crack zero jokes, but that would just be weird. And not much like myself… aside from the complaining about being pregnant, because I really have been doing that a lot lately. Happily, I think we are going to a comedy club after dinner, so I can let other people tell hilarious jokes and give myself a break.  And hang on the words of professional comedians and take notes on what is actually hilarious… y’know, for the next potentially socially weird night out.

I am in first grade ya know.Well i am leaving a class! Music and art! But it’s good i have p.e. next week.It’s starting on Wednesday. And it’s going on until January! Well that’s it bye! bye!

This is Zoe. This is my first blog!

So mom and dad went on there anniversary vacation. And when they left i was sad. I was sort of bored while they were gone. But it’s good i have school to pass time by! And of course playing games passes time by too. And then i had so much fun that it felt like they were only gone for a day!

THE   END

P.S.The title doesn’t mean  that mom and dad are GONE.

I’ve had a cold for over a week. A nasty one. Lots of congestion. The floor next to my side of the bed, littered with discarded tissues. I feel pretty crappy. Also? I look crappy. I look like I have a cold. Y’know, that indefinable quality that one takes on when one is very congested and crappy. Plus last night? I was awake on and off with contractions. Contractions hard enough to wake me from a Tylenol PM induced, drooling sleep. So yeah, cold: check. No sleep: check.

So this morning I was brushing Zoe’s hair in front of the mirror, and I made the mistake of looking up at my own reflection.

“Wow,” I said. “I look really nice.”

“No you don’t,” said Zoe. “Especially your hair.” And here she tried vaguely to reach up and smooth down my wild hair, but sighed and gave up because her mother was so beyond help.

“I know,” I said. “I was being sarcastic. I look exactly like how I feel.”

“How’s that? Really, really bad?”

*sigh*