Geek Habitat

Justin beat me to it and posted a wonderful end of year blog post over on his Bike Geek site. I concur on all counts and very much look forward to 2007 and all that it has in store!

For the past several years, I’ve had to compute my age by subtracting three years from Justin’s (35). This cheat is not useful between our birthdays of December 28th and January 18th, however, when the age difference is temporarily two years.

It seems my “brain age” is hovering at around 28 years, whereas my chronological age is of course merrily marching forward. I actually spent the bulk of this year thinking I was doing well at syncing the two ages, only to discover I’d tacked on two additional years to my age, often reporting it as 34! Thankfully, I don’t forget my birth year, or my OB probably would have scheduled me for even more tests, being on the cusp of AMA (in medical parlance, a woman age 35 or older is considered of “Advanced Maternal Age”… just one of life’s absolutely cruel tricks, and not even an especially useful distinction, given the advances in modern medicine.)

Thirty-three has a nice, uniform sound to it, and maybe I’ll have another useful age-computation cheat once Sprout’s born — “Okay, Sprout’s five this year, which means I must be… 38.”

At Justin’s behest, spurred by my own comments about needing to walk/exercise more, we walked 2.33 miles at Stone Oak Park today (tracklog from Justin’s new Garmin Forerunner 305).

We were pleasantly surprised when we pulled into the usually deserted parking lot — it was nearly full with families and couples out enjoying this sunny and mild December day. Ordinarily, we aren’t delighted by crowds, but the trail system at Stone Oak is reasonably sufficient to spread the load. The park has definitely validated the adage, “If you build it, they will come.” The Stone Oak area needs as many parks as it can get, given the rampant new home and apartment development.

Walking feels a little alien these days, considering I can no longer see my feet and all my joints seem to be developing randomly assorted aches and pains. However, it was great to get out and exercise with Justin a bit. He’s kept up his road cycling habit, and I hope to join him in that post-pregnancy, when I can be properly fitted for a road bike myself (and resolve some fit issues with my existing mountain bike.)

When we arrived home, we pulled the Ford Escape Hybrid into the driveway to check the engine oil since it’s been politely asking me to “CHANGE ENGINE OIL SOON” — about 3,000 miles earlier than I anticipated; I guess the onboard computer is tracking elapsed time (we bought the FEH in early March), not just miles on the odometer? Anyway, the oil level is fine, but it wouldn’t hurt to have it changed out “early” (before the scheduled 10,000 mile first oil change). When Justin and I were peering into the engine compartment of the hybrid, our neighbors noticed my incredible morphing body and finally asked if I’m pregnant. I suspect they’ve wanted to ask for quite awhile, but my proportions are such that there’s really no mistaking “Is she pregnant or just really enjoying the holidays?” anymore. So, that’s done — our news is finally in the neighborhood grapevine, for whatever that is worth.

Literally as we were about to head out the door to celebrate Christmas with the Moore and LaRocque clans, Justin and I did a quick “belly portrait” session.

We still need to set aside some time to do a proper photo session, but here are two of our favorite photos from today’s impromptu shoot, to commemorate my 26th week of pregnancy and Sprout’s “first Christmas” –

Amidst all the horn blowing, elbowing, cursing, honking, tailgating and road raging, it’s so uplifting to know that someone, somewhere, still has the Christmas spirit and… more importantly… doesn’t have a death grip on it, but instead so willingly shares that spirit with a stranger.
(Links to an anecdote someone on my birth board just shared.)

Justin sent me flowers! This ranks as a true rarity, and is always an occasion to photograph the lovely arrangement for posterity. This surprise flower delivery is especially meaningful because Justin sent it not just to me, but to his “other gal,” our baby girl. {cue sappy music} “Awwwww….“ {hands out Kleenex to the audience}

Poor Justin, though. He was trying for a total surprise, by having the flowers delivered to my parents’ house since he knew I would be visiting them yesterday (Thursday). The florist fouled up, however, causing Justin to call me at my parents’ house several times Thursday night progressively more worried, such that I finally pried out of him what was up. “You were supposed to get something delivered at your parents today.” He arranged to have the flowers sent to our home address today (Friday), but wouldn’t you know it, they ended up at my parents’ instead. Hey, it’s the thought that counts!

The arrangement is beautiful, as is the heavy crystal vase. So, once again, Thank you, babe! This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for surprises for another two year stint, however. hehehe

For the record, I don’t think flower-giving is a strictly male domain. When I found out I was pregnant, I bought Justin a dozen red roses (from Target, not a proper florist, but they were roses nonetheless.) I can’t remember if I ever had flowers delivered to him while we were dating — I might have once or twice. Since our wedding in 1998, I’ve ordered roses or some other floral arrangement another one or two times, generally around our anniversary as a gift to us both.