Bits n Bobs This Week

My beloved Buckeyes lost another bowl game last night. Craig and I sat bolt-upright in bed until midnight, chewing the ends of our fingers until the last, excruciating Texas touch-down that put an end to our hopes of a victory. My boss was so upset by the whole thing he wrote out his 4 major game complaints, taped them to his door and then refused to discuss the game. 

Doctors appointment today went great - Danny's BIG, probably already 8lbs. Thank God my cervix is clamped shut, which means no "any day now" surprises, because I'm not ready and I have a ton of stuff to do at work before my maternity leave. His room is nearly ready though and I'll post some pictures later. Jack's getting excited about coming to the hospital and meeting his little brother & he's taken to kissing my belly - very cute!

Last week my local corner shop got held-up at gunpoint and the owner shot. He was 73, a grandad, a lovely man who gave us little gifts and always asked after my mum. A robber shot him in the upper arm, piercing his chest, then entering his spine and rendering him paralyzed from the waist down. The robber didn't get any money, ran away with nothing.  How utterly senseless and sad.

I have already broken a NYE resolution. As  part of my 2009 economizing plan, I was going to cut out Starbucks. Not only have I been twice already this week but I bought a pay-as-you-go card.  I have the willpower of Edward the Confessor.

I just read the 3-book story by Dave Pelzer (A Child Called It, The Lost Boy, A Man Called Dave) and have mixed feelings about him. He suffered terrible abuse at the hands of his mum, went on to become a successful speaker and author but there's something so unlikable about him, so self-loathing maybe that it's hard to take him into your heart once he becomes an adult.  I found myself thinking, "you're 40 mate, get over it" but then feeling terribly guilty because maybe you just can't get over it. Maybe you spend the rest of your life messed in the head, no matter how much therapy you get. It's a story that will stay with me forever and I'm still trying to understand his mum, to get inside her head and find out why she did those things to her middle son, and yet leave his siblings alone. Why did he have to sit in the garage each Christmas Day, sitting in the POW position (sat on hands, head back), starving and freezing cold, listening to his brothers opening presents and eating dinner?  As a mother that's unimaginable to me.

I just started Barack Obama's book "Dreams of my Father" and I'm really enjoying it. He's only in 6th grade and already had a colourful life, full of characters and exotic places and funny stories. The fact that his family call him Barry and he smokes also makes me smile, because it makes him sound so down-to-earth. 

Weather here is pants - freezing rain mainly. This morning I had to dodge at least 2 cars careering wildly across the lanes as they tried to get to work on time, no doubt still drunk from game-time last night and late for work. Do I sound bitter? You bet I am. I spent another Buckeye football game sober, and we lost.