Random Musings, by The Editor

So, since I had to pull a post from the mental archives, I realize that I have to come up with some new material. Nothing really totally eventful happened today... so I digress.

1. I love the GC's blog posts. I think they're a nice touch; definitely a game-changer from my sarcastic wit. I wish she would do more, but she says this is "my project."

2. Yesterday I got baby bumped! Entirely by accident. Thankfully I was sitting, or I would have been knocked over. Poor GC! Thank goodness this is under 2 months now.

3. The GC really is having to use her motor now. The other day she got into her car's passenger door like an elderly lady: opened the door, walked up to the opening, turned around facing outward, gingerly plopped down into the seat, lifted her legs from outside into the car's floorboards, and then closed the door. Man, that looks tough!

4. I know I have told her before that "If I could, I would carry this pregnancy." Trying to be all supportive. Although recently, the truth is I don't think I could. If God were to come into the Green Machine now and say "Michael, you can carry this BY for the rest of the term." I would go, "Ummm.... look at the time.... I have a thing... oh look, there's Jesus!!!" and then run in the other direction.

(Editors note: My Catholic guilt got to me. I did not, in any way, intend to blaspheme the Lord's name. It's just humor, Sir.)

5. The GC is amazing. I might poke some fun at her, but in my own way, I'm trying to keep her happy. This is only a temporary rental of her body.

6. I went to the DMV today. Not as painful as it sounds. Now I'm a legit NC citizen. I did get nervous next the Po-Po. I don't know why, but I'm a stammering idiot in front of the Law! Somehow I made it through.

7. One of the questions on the test was: "A recent survey found that the following drivers are more prone to accidents. A. Middle age drivers. B Female drivers. C. Slow drivers." I laughed out loud. I soooo wanted to put B.

8. The one bad thing is now my license photo is horrible. The FL one (yes I still had my license from florida) showed this strapping, hot sexy stud with hair. This NC one is from super close up. Damn it looks like I have a quadruple chin, extraordinary large forehead, and wrinkles like they're going out of style. This baby is never leaving the wallet.

9. It is funny. We have become a family of the internet. Take right now for instance. The GC is laying on the couch with her computer, looking at her favorite blog, occasionally mumbling something incoherent. While I am sitting at the corner table/office/dining room blogging away. The only thing active is Ham, who just moved from one spot on the tile to one closer to the door.

10. We are still trying to figure out all the quirks of the GM. Figuring out which switch does what. All the little intricacies of an old house. For instance, we have this button over to the right. What the hell does it do? We have no idea. It is old school, with a little black ball that switches to red when you push it. Nothing happens. That we know of!! Any ideas?

11. The old owners really had a thing about securing their stuff. There are locks everywhere. On the Passover Closet. (Yup) The secret closet in the closet. Bathroom drawers? Seriously who locks stuff in their bathroom drawers. A deadbolt to the entrance to the mancave, with its own alarm sensor. Really? Hmmm

12. Charmaine has a thing for saving old class notes. Yup. She does. Granted these are the neatest, most meticulous notes you will ever see. She cannot throw them away. I just opened another box of them. Seriously. Who wants to review Organic Chemistry? I might have to have an intervention. Maybe have to call Niecy Nash and Clean House. Wait, I'll post a picture.

13. We finished assembling the crib (another post for another time.) Whew! When we were done, we looked back. Oh Boy! This is really going to happen.

The GC Discovers Chick-Fil-A!!!

So one of the painful things that we have learned with a kitchen renovation is that you don't have a kitchen to eat in or use. Granted we have an outdoor fridge (that is now an indoor one) but still nothing to cook on. This is also magnified by the fact that the GC needs food every 6 hours. Period. End of discussion.

So we have partaken in as many different dining establishments that Wilmington has to offer; many of the fast food/cheap variety. One day last week, as we were running some errand (I forget which), the alarm clock in the GC's fuel tank went off. We needed fuel and fast! The nearest place, thankfully, was a Chick-Fil-A. Yum yum I thought to myself... waffle fries. The GC was drooling too. So we pulled in.

We get out of the car and go in. (I must have free refills at all times, so I always go in! Never drive thru.) We step in and I look at the menu, already knowing what I will choose. I turn to my loving wife.

"Babe, what do you want?"

She is in a downright full gawk at the menu... "Its like McDonald's" ... eyes widening... "But.... with..... CHICKEN!!!!"

"Yes dear"

"Wow" Chin is now hovering inches above the floor. "Everything in here is chicken"

"Yes dear. What do you want?" Looking around anxiously at the hungry people behind us, who also didn't look to enamoured with the GC's naivete.

"Um... " Her eyes were as big as saucers. She was being mesmerized by the neverending chicken options. "I... don't... know...."

"Seriously!" I kind of tilt my head to the side as I say this. "Seriously?" I was dumbfounded. Has this lady not lived in the US in the last 2 decades?

I told the hungry people behind us to cut in on us. Clearly my wife had just escaped the Pregnant Mental Institution and cannot decide what she wants to eat as her first meal. I almost left her there, but unfortunately I'm married to her.

She finally mumbles something like "combo .... #3" and then I hurry to the counter.

"Yes. I'd like a #1 and a #3 please" I scream, hoping that the GC wouldn't change her mind.

"Ooohh" I hear from behind me. I cringe. "They have diet lemonade."

"I'll have a coke zero and psycho preggo over there will have a diet lemonade."

"Ooohhhh...." I hear again... Oh GOD, what now?!?!?! "They serve breakfast."

"Yes, dear." Is she on drugs or something? I mean really. Who has never been to a Chick-Fil-A? This must be the BY, or maybe the hormones. God forbid.

"Ooohhh chicken biscuits!"

"Yes dear"

"Wait!!! Breakfast burritos!!!! I absolutely LOVE breakfast burritos."

I looked back again with a WTF look, but she was not looking at me. She was staring at the menu in some sort of non-red-meat-atarian crazed stare. Where was my wife and what had the BY done with her?

"Yes dear. We'll get burritos another time. Probably when its breakfast."

People were starting to really stare at the freak show by the time I gathered the meal. I ushered my still-entranced wife to a booth on the other side of the restaurant.

"Um... Maine..."

"Yes." Oh, I think she's back.

"What just happened?"

"Oh. I've never been in a Chick-Fil-A before."

There you go.

Guest blog #4: Mike's Obsession with Layaway

As you can tell, life around here is pretty eventful. Moving to a new city, starting a new job, and doing a remodel while 32 weeks pregnant is crazy. Apparently makes your husband a little crazy too. (Hey, he gets to take shots at me on this blog all the time!)

And yes, I'm super-motivated (we like to use the term "task-oriented" around here) to get everything done before I am unable to do anything but point and stammer. I figure I have another 4 weeks or so before I'm completely useless.

So, organizational ADD or not, we're making things happen. And by we I mean myself and BY, who is really the brains of the whole situation around here. The yard doesn't resemble the Amazon quite so much anymore (although needs a lot more work... ahem, Mom??), and the work-zone that is our house is starting to look like a home. Without a kitchen, that is.

So, you've all read the Sears entry (if you haven't that's a good one). And most of you know that Mike and I are really frugal people. If our bank accounts had met first, we would have been married long before our brains took three tries to get everything right. We just don't go into debt easily, so buying a house and then promptly throwing a ton of money into a flooring/kitchen remodel is sorta like stabbing rusty nails into our eyeballs... just really painful to think about.

And you know about the credit card issues I have... great credit (the mortgage lender said that Mike and I were like the super-couple of credit scores), but next-to-impossible to get a new credit card (that time at Sears they asked me for my phone number from medical school! That's just not fair!! How anyone successfully steals my identity when I don't even know my identity is ridiculous....) So, it's fallen on Mike to secure credit to pay for our new energy-efficient gadgets. This has led to Mike's discovery of the concept of "layaway."

For someone who has never been in debt like Mike, layaway is kinda perfect. I mean, in a month or two when he is gainfully employed, the immediate cash flow things will all work out. The first time he did it, at Sears, he walked away sorta confused. Then, last weekend, when I insisted (the baby and the back discomfort insisted, really) on a new mattress, we did it again, at Sears. That time Mike walked away with a huge smile on his face, screaming in the parking lot: "Let's put EVERYTHING on layaway!!" (Note to self: this is how credit problems start. Need to get Mike working asap.)

And lest we forget the point of this blog, we are, in fact, having a baby. I know that when you also simultaneously move to a new city, start new jobs, buy a new/old house, and embark on a remodel, the poor little BabyYarnoz gets lost in the shuffle. I mean, she tries all she can to remind us that she's really in there -- the 900 trips to the bathroom a day sorta helps. But to be honest, I can actually forget for a while what's to come. Thankfully, there's always a trip to the OB around the corner to remind me.

For you women, you may or may not remember trips to the OB. At your first visit, you don't actually see the doctor. Instead, you see a nurse who is paid a salary to tell pregnant women all day long what not to do:

• No smoking, drinking alcohol/caffeine/juice/anything else remotely delicious
• No lifting more than 1 pound objects, laying on your back, abdominal crunches or really any other enjoyable forms of exercise, but make sure not to be a fat slob
• No working in the yard unless wearing three layers of clothing and thick gloves (umm... huh?)
• No eating of most cheeses that actually taste good (what in the world do pregnant women in France do???)
• No deli meats unless they've been heated to a crisp...
• No taking of many over the counter remedies that actually help your ailments...Blah blah blah...

I mean, the list is a mile long. Not to mention that I unfortunately know that most of this stuff does not have peer-reviewed data to support, and I get an email every week or so (thanks to the 2 years of MPH studies) telling me exactly when and where there are listeria outbreaks. Then there's all my pregnant OB friends who very cheerfully break ALL of these rules (I mean, it was Darlene who made me my first pregnancy latte at her baby shower a couple of months ago.)

(Back to the visit).... Seemingly several hours later, after admitting to doing nothing (well, I dazed off for a second and admitted to an "occasional" soda, prompting the nurse to first a scathing stare and then a firm scold... thankfully I didn't admit to the coffee drinking), they shipped me off to the "benefits" person.

So, rightfully scolded, I shuffle/waddle off to another office where a very unpleasant woman slaps two pieces of paper in front of me and begins not with a "Hello, how nice for you that you're expecting" and all that B.S. that people usually say to pregnant women:

"If you have a normal vaginal delivery, you will owe us $3900, and if you have to have a c-section, it will be $4400. This does NOT include anything you will owe to the hospital, pediatrician, anesthesiologist, lab tech, nursing staff, greeter, car parker, housekeeper, zookeeper, etc etc etc." (I mean, jeez, I get the point lady. This sh#%* is expensive.) "Now, your family deductible is a gazillion dollars," at which point I earn my second scathing stare when I mention that her source is incorrect, because I don't have a family plan and my third scathing stare by mentioning that in a week my health insurance will change to an entirely new plan.

Anyway, you get the point. Extremely unpleasant. Like being told you won a million dollars but you'll have to pay 2 million dollars to get it. I sit back and wonder that if my cynical self thinks this is sorta ridiculous, certainly it would swipe the smile off the face of a 20-something newlywed girl in the buoyant 10th week of her first pregnancy.

Suddenly I realize she's asked me a question. "Umm... sorry, excuse me, what was that??"

"I SAID, now you need give us $200 up front, before we take you on as a patient. Will that be cash, check, Visa, or Mastercard?"

And that was that. I think to myself: Baby Yarnoz is now on layaway. Mike will be so proud.

One Week In!

As today winds to a close, we here at Baby Yarnoz are going to take the time to reflect. Oh, how much we've done in the last week.

Let us review (this started in order, but decayed into a Hormonal Whirling Dervish!!):

1. Pack up the loft (albeit done with the assistance of Armstrong Relocation)
2. Pack up the cars
3. Get our bikes cleansed.
4. Say goodbye to Winston-Salem.
5. Blow up the Air Mattress. Do Battle!
6. Unpacked our clothes (from our cars)
7. Did some yardwork.
8. Cleaned
9. Touched up the baseboards in the Master and Nursery
10. Took off the circa 1960s shower door in the Ocean Bathroom.
11. Chiseled away at the grout in the Ocean Bathroom.
12. Did more yardwork.
13. Peed. (The amazing number of times this occurred deserves its own number)
14. Regrouted the Ocean Bathroom.
15. Installed the wireless internet.
16. Arranged our furniture.
17. Unpacked boxes and boxes and boxes.
18. Did even more yardwork.
19. Sanded down two dressers and one cabinet.
20. Repainted the two dressers and one cabinet.
21. Repainted the Nursery shelving.
22. Touched up the accent wall in the Nursery.
23. Unpacked more boxes.
24. Set up the entertainment center. (This actually required a fair amount of drilling.)
25. Went to the do-it-ourselves store, multiple times.
26. Visited Starbucks frequently, an apparent home of the local Asian mafia.
27. Dined out an exorbitant number of times. (This is seriously draining the budget. Especially since the GC needs fuel every 6 hours. Punctually! Never fails. )
28. Got maimed by Ham. (But got out of yardwork!!!)
29. Moved the said refinished furniture pieces back into the house.
30. Vacuumed repeatedly. I think the Dyson is about to quit and go back to Sweden (?).
31. Stocked our outdoor fridge, which coincidentally is our only fridge.
32. Set up the crib.
33. Finish the Ocean Bathroom.
34. Buy another Queen mattress set.
35. Setup the smaller guest room.
36. Shave. (I was forced too. The GC doesn't like beards. Also, there seems to be more and more gray in it!)
37. Do more yardwork
38. Blog
39. Think of more blogs
40. Settle into the GM with the ultimate form of nesting... renovation!!!

Like Father, Like Son. (Part 3)

So yesterday, in betwixt other sorted odds and ends, the GC and I went out to work in the yard. (This is really how things have been going here. There has been so much to do, that the GC overloads. Seriously. She seems to have organizational ADD with added Hormones! We unpack a couple of boxes, and then happen to mention something about a kitchen, and then she's off making our make-shift kitchen. Then we're unpacking in the bedroom, and whoosh, she's off to the carport, moving furniture. Instead of room-by-room, which is what I thought the organization fiend Charmaine would do, we are getting a blurring of GC. Fun filled.)

Well, in the midst of one of this hairpin changes, the GC states that she wants to do some yardwork. So she's off... whoosh... to the yard. Weed wacker, rake, edger, and mower all in tow. I dutifully drudge out there to help her.

Er... what are you doing?!?!?!

Well, babe, I was going to help you do some yardwork?

Um, no!!!

Why?

Look at your finger! You can't get that infected!!! Your hands are too valuable!

But? Come on, babe. um... We live in a world of antibiotics! I can beat any infection. ... I stammer on with some other incoherent babbling.

Nope. N-O. You won't let me on the ladder. I won't let you do this!

Damn. Great. I didn't know what to do. So I stood there and watched. Swept and raked a little when she wasn't watching. But damn, she had 4 eyes in the back of her head!

So there I was watching my wife do yardwork pregnant! As she was mowing the lawn, some of our neighbors drove by, with disapproving looks. I did the only thing I could think of, I wave and pointed to my finger! I tried to mouth "I'm wounded", but they didn't buy it.

Great! Here I was ... a young strapping Spanish doctor, son of a strapping Spanish doctor, who was watching his young, beautiful pregnant wife piddle around mowing the lawn... all due to saving the precious hands.

Wait a minute!

I've heard this story before!!!

Damn, That's 3!


Like Father, Like Son

Ham Fails Another Shining Moment and Mikey Gets a Bo-Bo!!

Friday, around 6pm. Ham had already eaten his dinner and was starting to do the pee-pee dance. I figured I had to to my daily chore, and go for an andar (spanish for walk... Ham has learned "walk" so we switched about 3 years ago. Somehow the Spanish language escapes the poor dog, and he still hasn't figured it out.)

Anyway, I grab his long, extendo-leash with choke chain. From out of the back corners of the Green Machine, he comes barreling around the corner. I put the leash on, and we're off. A walking we go... Ham sniffs... hikes leg... marks... moves on... On and on we go. Sniff/hike/mark/move. Yada yada yada.

We turn the corner and head home. As we get closer, I see our next door neighbors out in the yard. Hmmm. I think, I should go and introduce myself. Be friendly and neighborlike. Not like in Tampa, where we just starting talking to our neighbors right before we left. But then my shyness starts to creep in... don't go over, walk home... No I can't, the GC would kill me! Just the other day she was saying how we had to be more outgoing and friendly. I agreed. So I made up my mind to do it. I should've been shy.

I wave to them, and step closer to their yard. "Hey, I'm Mike. I just moved -" Just then I saw they had a big black lab, not on a leash. Flash of panic. (Editors note: Ham has a problem, er, maybe two problems, er .... make that 3 problems. 1: He sharts (but this has been cured with his recent trip to the beauty salon for some anal glandial cleansing.) 2: He hates/kills cats. and 3. He has some pretty terrible leash aggression. Really bad. But doesn't do a lick of anything when off in the dog park. But Maine and I have tried everything, except maybe tasering. That might be next.) Hmmm... thoughts are racing now. Should I risk it? He looks tired, tongue hanging on the road. Yes, must move on.

Just as that races through my head, Ham growls something fierce and starts off for this dog. (who actually was about twice his size... but Ham is ripped fuel!! He doesn't care.) Crapo! Instinct now takes over. I reach down with my left hand to grab his extendo-leash. As I do, I think maybe I shouldn't do that. -- FLASH!!! A searing, pain comes burning from my left ring finger, and shoots up my arm to my head. Uh OH!!! That isn't good. Do I still have my finger? In the midst of all this, I somehow manage to stop Ham inches from Cyrus' (the other lab) face. I reel him back in, all the while still managing to chat with the neighbors. But, thinking damn my finger is on FIRE!!! I couldn't bare to look, but I had to know....

I glance down... the whole section of skin between the innermost and outer knuckle was white and bubbly. I think it actually was sizzling! It looked pretty serious, I thought. Wait a minute, why are my feet going numb? OH NO!!! The wobblies got up to through my arms and started to reach my ears. Muffle muffle.... Oh Crap! This is how I'm going to introduce myself to my neighbors, via 9-1-1. Damn. Focus Daniel-son!!! Feel the Force!!!

I'm trying to focus on their conversation. Nice neighborhood... good area... older people are selling or dying off... blah blah blah... I couldn't help but wonder if they were seeing the blood rushing from my face. Coincidentally, Ham shut up pretty good about this time. I think he sensed what was coming.

Crap crap crap!!! Where was the Maine? She's a doctor, she could save me. Nope, I was alone on this one. I should have chosen what was behind Door #2.... I was going down.

But then, out of somewhere, pain brought me back. Searing pain. Blood curdling pain.... But actually there was no blood; the friction must have coagulated it! (If there was blood, I think I would have surely gone down.) The wobblies were abating. The conversation was moving. And I was still standing!!!! Thank God!!!

So, I finished up the conversation. (Even the really awkward parts where the dude was saying that they were selling the house, because he got laid off. I couldn't come back with something to that one. Maybe I should have told him I almost just severed my finger!) I run back with Ham to the GM.

-MAINE!!! I need you!!! What's up babe? Ham did it again! I hold up my hand, half expecting to see my finger fall off. But it didn't.

Awww, Mikey's got a Bo-Bo!?! She says in her patronizing sort-of way as she approaches smirking. Then when she gets closer and see witnesses the carnage... -OH!!

Yup. Mikey's got a Bo-Bo!

(and I haven't gotten my Disability Insurance yet!!!)

Changing Focus!

As we celebrate getting under the 60 mark, we here at BY are going to shift gears. It seems that we have probably paid too much attention to the GC, and maybe poked too much fun. So we must find a new target. Since topics about Ham can only fill so much blog space, that leaves me to face the harsh spotlight of sarcastic humor.

These next few blog entries should easily fill that role

Celebrating the 4th, BY-Style!!!

Well after a long week of moving and nesting, the GC and I were pretty beat. She powered down for about 4 hours this afternoon. (I even got to watch some HD TV!)

So we had heard from multiple sources that the fireworks show downtown was something to see. So we headed down to the riverfront to watch. Took no time at all, and with some delay in the parking deck, we were out and about.

Then we took in the sites, watching the Army rock band belt out some cheesy American rock tunes....

GC looking stunning:






Me sporting a day's growth:


Then her camera died, and no more pics. But the night was great. A nice breeze coming off the water was awesome. Then some lovely fireworks, shot from the park next to the USS North Carolina (which is permanently docked here.)

After the show, then it was bedlam to try to get back to the car. The GC was in full effect... mowing people over left and right. One poor dude actually bounced off her belly. I think BY kicked him in the jimmy! We make it to the car on the top floor of the garage... and no movement. For an hour!!! Seriously. I still don't know why.

But we have survived. Now the GC is in bed next to me, powering down for another night sleep. I think she is dreaming of yardwork! But that is a story for a different day.

Purchasing Night Parking for the GC

Whew! Yesterday was so busy! The GC is powering down now, recharging for another afternoon of activity. Now I have a break from the Admiral (she's upgraded rank) to blog away...


We just got back from the Mall. (Yes I know... it's Charmaine's kryptonite... but the GC was only thinking about food and a new mattress... this was the closest compromise)

So after finishing lunch, we ambled the Mall looking for a new mattress. First store... nope... amble more... The GC started wobbling a little... power running down.... Uh Oh.... "I'm okay". We make it to Sears and find the mattress section. GC looks sleepy... good time for a break.

1st mattress: I lay down... ooh... nice.. but a little too soft... Time for the GC. Woompf! She collapses into the bed. Pillow covers all around her. In fact, I think she sunk in a couple of feet. Nope.. too soft...

I move on to the next one.... Er... um... Mike... can you help? I look back and see the top of the GC cresting over the bed and pillows... Ooops. She is officially a turtle now, stuck on her back with all fours floundering in the air. Eh huh uhhh huhh humpf! She's stuck. Poor woman. I sneak a sly smile as I walk over to help her up... Thanks.

2nd mattress: I lay down... oooh... way to firm... possibly a little bouncy. Er GC, maybe you should be caref... Ker-plumpf!! I barely look over in time to see the GC blur going to plop on the mattress... she hits the mattress and bounces straight back up!!! I think she got almost a foot of air until she landed back down. Wow!!! Um, Mike, I think this one is too firm. You could say that again.

Well, we finally go through a couple of more mattresses until we find the one. Again, Sears has a deal where you can put off the payments, interest free, for another 18 months.... More $$$$ flying out of my pockets!!!

In fact, I think the Sears has offically renamed the Green Machine, almost like stadium or football bowl games naming rights.

Welcome, to the "Green Machine, Presented by Sears!"

The Battle of the Air Mattress

In light of the arrival of our furniture, we have to say goodbye to the lovely air mattress. But before it is retired to the closet for future use, we must relive the Battle of the Air Mattress. This courageous battle will be nobly recounted along the lines of other famous battles: Little Big Horn, Gettysburg, and The Normandy Invasion.

It all started the last time we were both at the Green Machine... I was in charge of the mattress inflation. So I pumped it up to standard fullness... or at least what I thought it should be. Basically, I tried to make it like a full, firm mattress.

Man I slept like a log. I was extremely comfortable and dreamt like a baby. Well, apparently I was the only one. The GC couldn't take it at all, supposedly. (All this I find out later, during the opening volley of the Battle). Too stiff, hurts the chassis, yada yada yada...

So when the furniture was removed from the Loft, the GC took over. I was relieved of my Air Mattress command. Demoted to lower grade and rank. I didn't realize why, until much much later. So, Captain GC inflates the Mattress. Seems she likes a more softer inflation... sort of waterbed soft.... hmmm... Now we're the Navy!

Well Night 1 arrives and we plop into bed.... hmmm... Much softer, I think... Yeah, the GC states... Much better on my back. Ok I guess, and I fall asleep. I think I was deep into a dream, when suddenly I feel like I'm in the ocean. Whooosh!!! I'm up in the air, and back down again!! OH, I'm awake now! What happened?!?!? Oh, the GC just shifted positions..... hmmm.... I'm back asleep again... ah.... WHHOOOOSSSHHHH!!!! I'm in the ocean again, and then way up in the air... HEY, I'm up again.... Well, the GC moved positions again. DAMN!!! Hey babe? ... Yeah... Ummm, well, hmmm, ummm, do you think you could... umm... well... hmmm... stop moving? Well, babe, I'll try...

(Editors note: It seems that one of the newer nuances of being the GC is that she can't stay laying in one position for too long. Something about a 20# turkey strapped to her belly... blah blah blah... Well, even in our normal bed, she turns and moves. This is really tough now. She needs an alarm, similar to moving trucks when they back up, **beep, beep, beep***.... Imagine this in the Water-Air Mattress.... )

Well, try as the GC might, she couldn't stay in one place too long. All night was the same experience: WHOOSH!! up and down, up and down!! I think around 3am I threw up from sea-sickness. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep that night....

So I went to work the next day exhausted. Somehow made it through the day, said my goodbyes, picked up the GC, and then drove down to the GM. We make it in, and then have to set up the Air Mattress for the night.

Babe, I'll set up the Mattress tonight. No, that's ok, I got it. Well, babe, you know that last night wasn't very lovely. Well, she says, I cannot sleep on the Mattress that firm. But I can't do the waterbed....

Uh-oh... Mount Hormone erupted. Steam spewed forth from her ears... venom from her mouth... I think the BY actually got in on the act... I tried to fight back gallantly. I looked to some other male hormones for help, but Hamilton had already taken up refuge around the corner. Man's Best Friend, my behind!!! He left one behind.... Battle lines were clearly drawn...

Let us just say, the rest of the sleeping experience was on the Water-Air Mattress.

Ahoy Mateys!!!

Day 2, BY Style

Whew!

Man, we're beat. It was a breakneck day that actually began when Hamilton wanted to be up at 6am. Damn.

Very big day, with a tremendous amount of stuff going on. Actually, within 10 minutes: the movers drove up, the contractor crew arrived, the plumber arrived, the plumbing inspector dropped in, the movers showed up, fedex delivered the crib (thanks mom!), the mail came, and, oh yes, the GC had to pee...

Wow!

We've been going nonstop since then. The GC was a trooper, except for the hours between 2-4pm. This is the new appointed time where the GC's batteries need a-charging! But I keep trucking, less I fear the wrath of the Hormones!

Now we're collapsed in our bed getting ready to go to bed...

Good Night

We're Up in Wilmington!!!

For all you loyal BY Followers, sorry for the delay.

Things here have moved at a breakneck pace. We're anxiously awaiting the arrival of our furniture anytime today. There have been so many interesting moments so far, that I cannot put them all down...

But here are some teasers:

1. The Battle Over the Air Mattress

2. The GC Powers Up for "A Little Yardwork"

3. "Your Cable Ain't Right!"

4. Sears Comes Through!!! (So we think, we haven't opened everything!)

5. Lovely Intercoastal Waterway Dinner

6. Demo in the "Ocean Bathroom"

7. The Fridge on the Fritz, and the Backup is Delayed!!!


Stay Tuned

Our Time in W-S

We have thoroughly enjoyed our time here in the Twin Cities. (wait, we're not in Minnesota).

There are many things that we are going to miss: Mellow Mushroom on 4th St, Noma, 6th and Vine, Finnegan's Wake (yummy Fish n' Chips), Downtown Thai (you would have never guess the best Thai restaurant was in western NC!), Foothills Brewery, Krankies Coffee, Salem, Salem Lake...

But time is a changin'.

Tomorrow we trek out to the Green Machine for good. The BY might be offline until the 1st or 2nd while we're getting the GM's internet up.

More blogs, pics, and ultrasounds (maybe) to come!

Er... What!?! Is A Kitchen Appliance that I Missed for the BY?

So, over the last couple of weeks, we here in the BY Universe have been trying ways to earn some extra cashola. Well, mainly the GC. My poor, poor contribution was getting an additional $2 off at Moe's one night. Damn. I've been trying to complete these medical surveys for cash, but they don't seem to want my opinion. (I don't know why?!? My opinion is pretty good, eh?)

Anyway, my contributions have been piddly... until today... in the size of one of my biweekly salary checks... er... one that I should already have....

So, around 3 this afternoon, I finish up with my procedures for the day. I decide to go to my mailbox and check it. (Editors note: this is a mailbox that I have had since Day 1 of EP fellowship, but somehow was not relayed to me. Seems I only realize it when I hadn't received my W-2 in March.) This was the second time I had checked it all year. As I opened the box, if virtually exploded with envelopes and crapola! Almost knocked my back to the other side of the wall. So I decide to sort through the stuff. Crap.. crapo... junk... Paystubs after paystubs... So I gather all the stub envelopes and head back to my office.

About 20minutes later, I am going through my desk, doing my best GC on Hormones imitation. Then I come to the paystub envelopes... "Throw them away" says the GC devil on my right shoulder... "Open them and check" says my hording angel says. (To those who know the Editor well, know that I have a serious problem with throwing stuff away. I think I still have the ticket to the Sting concert I saw in highschool... Wait, did I say that out loud? Hmmm... )

So I decide to open them. There's about 20. Stub.. stub... stub... stub.... stub...

stub...
stub...

stub... er... wait... that's blue... with a tamper resistant border... and a watermark... that's no stub.... that's a paycheck!!! WTF!!! I am getting a fever and a sweating; palpitations all over... Hmmm.... I wonder... is this my final check? Hmmm... where's the date? 7/10/08!?!?!? WTF!?!?!?!?!?! Where did that come from?? Is this some sort of a joke? This can't be real. Oh crap! I can see the GC staring at me in disbelief, steam fuming from her ears and another hormone induced rage: "You lost what!!!!!" I couldn't let the GC down. Not now! This is the $$$ of a kitchen appliance... Damn

So I got up. Actually jumped up a little too quickly, with all the palpitations and all, I got a little dizzy.... had to sit back down, lest I have another episode.... So in these situations, I can only do one thing: ask Kim. Kim is Dr Fitzgerald's secretary, and has been my defacto mom throughout this last year.

So what does she tell me to do? Go deposit it you dummy! Oh, yea... I could have figured it out. So I walk down to the Wachovia bank branch in the hospital. (Yes, there is an actual branch in the hospital. They really watch-ova-ya... That should be there catchphrase....) As I am scurrying down to the bank, I can only think of the steaming GC... Tensions are starting to rise... you can only figure out what is coming...

I get down to the bank, and hustle into line.... Next please.... Yes I'm an idiot doctor cardiologist who is leaving and I didn't cash this check last year, can you help? Poor girl... she didn't know what hit her. She looks at me as I stuff the check in her face. See see see... paycheck... She looks at it, sees the real deal... OOOOHHH! (you are an idiot!!!). Can you help me please? Just before I could yammer on about moving, kitchens, babies, and the GC, she goes to talk to her manager. She leaves the booth and goes across the open lobby to what I thought was the receptionist, to discuss my case. I can overhear them... "Hmmm... does he bank here?" YES, YES I DO!!! GIVE ME SOME LOVE!!! Across the lobby.... then she and I proceed to discuss the entire situation in front of everyone else in the bank. I didn't care... I just wanted the $$$!!! After all this, she says that they can't help us. I have to go to payroll and probably get one re-issued. Crap, payroll, where's that? Oh boy

So I run back to the office... 4 pm... Kim, where's payroll? She looks.... I jump on the computer, find the number, and dial it before she gets back to me. (I'm in prime tiptop efficiency now... The fear of the GC has gotten me!) Damn, busy... call this other number or leave a message.... I do both, except now my efficiency has not made it to my use of english language.... After a 2 minute yammering message (but still no mention of babies, kitchen, or the green machine) I hang up. I call the other number and get a live human being. Whew!

I recount the whole gory detailed story to this new poor lady. Hmm, she says, let me talk to my manager and I'll call you back. What! Damn.... So I wait. Seconds feel like eons... like sands through the hourglass, so are the damned days of my life!!! 4:20, phone rings... it's my boss... hey, dude, can't chitchat now, waiting for an important call... -click- ooops, hope I don't get fired... hee hee

4:30... Phone: it's the lady... you have 2 options: 1) bring the check by here and we can reissue you a new one or 2) use the interoffice mail and we'll get it to you that way. No choice... have to go with option 1. Where's your office (thinking it was somewhere in the building)? Oh no, silly rabbit... It's freaking down by where the GC works! and they close at 5!!! Frak!!! I am half jotting down directions, half looking it up on google maps, and the other half having no idea where i'm going... (yes i know that's 3 halves... but give me some literary license here)...

I'm off... grab my white coat (who know why? adds to the whole idiot doctor thing..) and race off to my car....

Get to my car 4:40... this isn't happening to me... i try the GC... thankfully she doesn't answer... that convo could have easily tripped up my flow... I steam out of the parking deck and point my car leftward... by this time I have pulled out my phone and have goole maps with my exact gps location (damn what an awesome application!!!) So I'm driving through W-S with my phone on my right hand constantly updating my location. I'm cruisin... with maybe some parts of the drive focused a bit too much on my phone... but no one will be hurt in the writing of this blog!

Somehow I pull into the parking lot of the payroll department. I have no idea how I got there or where I am! 4:48!!!! Holy crap! This might actually work!

I run up the stairs and into the building. 4th floor! Damn... elevators.... I press the up button and jump in.... ahhhhh... the soothing sounds of Muzak... is that Sting??? Nah!

Door opens... payroll... I come to the office, and by now the energy level and flow is full bore... Hello, I'm the idiot who didn't cash their payroll check. Can I get some assistance?!? Two ladies come over to help... The yammer couldn't be held any longer... yes... I was about to throw away these stubs, and then I saw this check, and I'm moving tomorrow... renovating a kitchen with $$$$ flying out of my pockets (oops, just lost another $20)... and, oh, did I mention I'm going to be a father? One chuckleheads witty response was "you know you're not supposed to throw away checks now?" Gee, thanks. Can't you see me yammering here!

The other, more helpful lady says that there is noone around now to sign a new check, so can she forward me a new one later. Er? what? It's not closing time missy! I ask, well, are you sure there is no one around to sign a new one for me... i'm leaving tomorrow... hee hee. Let me go ask...

She comes back... 4:55.... my manager wants to see you.... uh oh...Is this where the whole thing comes unraveled? So I go to the managers office. Hi sir... you see... there is no one here, being 10 till 5 and all, to sign your check. She said this with some attitude, like what was I thinking coming here and trying to get something done before quitting time.

(I almost flipped out on her attitude... Seriously, this freaking place has hours of operation right?!?!? You're not open until 4:55 right!?!?! It says 5, so damn well somebody should be here! I'm a freaking doctor who has to answer to your crazy whinning questions at all hours of the day, but do I say: umm.. sorry miss, but I can't put in your pacemaker today, being 10 to 5 and all... we'll just have to do it tomorrow... maybe your complete heart block will fix itself overnight!)

As I was about to launch into the above hearty insults, something got the better of me. This lady is in control of your $$$ here, and through the GC, my manhood as well... Maybe I should just relent. Damn... All that work and formula-1 car driving to give some witch my address. Damn. So I did, and then I left.

Hmmm... how does this stuff happen to me? Actually if I really listened to the GC we would never have this bonus paycheck, right?

(Let's not dwell on the fact that I should have already had it...)

BY's Final Blogs from W-S: A Triple Tap!!

As I wallow in my one and a half orders of Downtown Thai Pad Thai, I am starting to realize how uncomfortable the poor GC really is.

Poor GC. Too bad my discomfort will pass in an hour or so, while the GC has another 65 days...

Well, we're are in our final hours at the W-S! Boy what a day! Too many things happened in one day to post in one blog.... So the Triple Tap!

Packing, more packing, reminiscing over the last year, and another classic BY experience (I don't know how this stuff happens to me)

Enjoy

From the GC: Mike Exposed! Has different personality at work!!

Here goes the official third guest post from Mike's wife, a.k.a "baby momma" a.k.a. BY incubator, but most likely known around these parts as the Golf Cart:

As many of you know, we have only landed in Winston-Salem for a brief period of time, one year to be exact, so that Mike can do his Electrophysiology training. (For those of you who don't know what EP is, it's like cardiology for the socially challenged...uhh... I mean engineers. These guys sit in a room all day long watching monitors full of squiggly lines. No kidding.)

Now, Mike has had a fantastic year and has really bonded with the guys at work. He has a terrific co-fellow named Rick, and 4 great attendings who teach him everything he is supposed to know about EP and only yell at him occasionally. I figured that they would like Mike pretty well, after all, he's a sorta quiet guy and does what he's told for the most part. What I didn't know was that Mike transforms into this other human being at work...

A couple of weeks ago, we went to Mike's graduation dinner, where the big boss, Dr. Fitz, stood up to give a little speech about working with Mike for a year, how great he's been, how he'll be missed, yada yada yada. Then he added a little sidenote: "Mostly by the nurses and staff." This furrowed my brow, because not a few of said staff had already come up to me earlier in the evening and said things like, "We need to talk...," "We just love your husband," and "You're not moving."

I think to myself... Hmm... what could my shy husband (okay, so he doesn't seem shy on this blog but I promise you he IS SHY!!) have done to make the legion of women love him so?? Is this something about which I should be concerned? Should I be making "surprise" trips to the EP lab in the future?? Then I think, naaaaaah, they're just being exceptionally nice, like all people do at the end of the year to wish people well. After all, I'm getting the same comments about me at my job sometimes, right?

A few days later, Mike comes home and tells me that I HAVE to reserve such-and-such night off from work because the nurses are throwing a going-away party for him. When my brow furrows again, he corrects himself and says "Oh, well, it's for the end-of-the-year, but... uhh... I'm the guest-of-honor." Further questioning reveals that the staff doesn't actually have an annual end-of-the-year party. Hmm... very interesting.

Mike goes to work, where many of the members of this legion of staff snicker behind closed doors for days. Finally, it's time for the party, which is a backyard picnic at one nurse's house. Mike comes home only after stopping first to get a haircut. (He had to get pretty for his party.)

To my surprise, it really was a party for Mike. He even got presents! Everyone wanted to meet me and tell me how lucky I was to have such a great husband (strangely, these comments were peppered with people slapping Mike on the back and saying "Yo Momma"). You wouldn't even believe the amazing things they told me about Mike! I felt like a celebrity wife. Suddenly I wished I had gotten a haircut myself, in case my curly locks didn't look deserving enough to stand next to him. It was quite an impressive showing from everyone.

Now, I totally know how wonderful my husband is, I just want it to be clear. But usually he is so reserved outside our home life (and this blog) that it never occurred to me that this sort of thing would be happening. All year I've been watching him grow into this amazingly technically talented special (and I mean 'special') cardiologist, and he comes home happy every day from work. Now I see that he spreads all of his happiness to these nurses, and even perhaps a little to his attendings. (Actually, hilariously, Dr. Fitz showed up wearing an outfit suspiciously similar to Mike's. Like Mike is Fitz's 'mini me'.)

And, of course, his 'special' sense of humor apparently was appreciated, because he received an awesome gift, signed by the staff. (Thus the reason for the snickers.)

So, to conclude what might be a slightly mushy post (hey, it's the hormones, leave me alone), I just wanted to say congrats to Mike for finishing a great year, and then congrats to BY for having the good fortune to have such an, ahem, distinguished dad, who obviously demands only the utmost respect at his workplace. (And FYI, just to be safe, I think I will be making surprise trips to the EP lab at New Hanover, and maybe even more frequent haircuts in the future...).

The Green Machine Reno!!!

Today we received some pictures of the GM renovation...

WOW!!!

Enjoy

Just to remind you what everything used to look like:











From the uptairs landing towards the front door:








New bamboo floors in the spare room:








Bamboo in the hallway:












From the dining room, through the new bar cutout into the kitchen. The large hood that used to hang over the island has been removed:











From the dining room, looking towards the living room, sans green carpet, with new tile:

Securing the BY's Future Shoes...

So, one of the really big issues the last week for the BY Universe has been arranging the perks of our jobs. The GC's job gives a lot more perks, due to her joining a mega-corporation of docs. Mine gives a lot less, but some nice ones though. One of the things that it is lacking in is Disability Insurance.

So for the last week or so, I've been trying to secure my current policy and keep it with me. (Editors note: It really seems somewhat morbid to try to figure out which service I might need. If I lose my left arm and my right eye, would I want to do EP, general cardiology, or shovel fries? Oh, the choices!)

Finally I have got something lined up, but have to get a "paramedical exam". This constitutes a nurse (I think) filling out forms and "collecting blood and urine samples." This is what I have just survived... er... returned from.

So all day, I've been psyching myself up. Freaking out more like it. For those who don't know, I have an extreme extreme fear of needles puncturing my body. Seriously. Yes, I know I do complex cardiac ablations, placing needles and catheters all over other peoples places, cutting and sewing, blood galore ... blah blah blah... STILL HAPPENS! Doesn't make sense, I know. I'm a wuss, but I'm man enough to admit it. (I think)

So, back to today, my Appointment of Doom is at 4pm. I eat a bagel in the morning (foregoing my daily ritual of a chicken biscuit with my co-fellow, for fear of skewing up my lipid panel.... yes I know what you're thinking!) and that's it. Nothing else all day. I have a cokezero for lunch, after clinic. (Where coincidentally enough I had a patient with syncope... ahh the foreboding!)

As I leave the hospital to go to the AoD, I can feel the sense of dread building up in my gullet. Nah, I think, I'm just hungry.... I get to the parking lot of the nondescript building at 3:45. Damn, I'm early!! I sit and wait. Finally at 3:50, I can't take it anymore and go inside.

I go in to the office building, built circa 1960s complete with acoustic tile and shag carpeting (hmmm, looks comfy, maybe I'll land softly...). There was a old portrait style picture of some old lady who must have been original. There I met Lynn. Very nice and professional. She takes me over to "the table", upon which I see a collection of vials (a rainbow, so to speak, ... Gulp!) as well as a urine cup and a BP cup.

So I sit down and we go through the questionnaire:
Have you ever done crack cocaine, heroin, LSD, meth, MJ? Nope
Have you ever smoked? nope
Have you ever ... yada yada yada...
Some questions took so long, and were multiple punctuations, I had have her repeat them... probably raising her suspicions.

All the while my eyes were focused on the vials....

So I get measured...
Height 6 ft, check
Weight 182, damn! Maybe too many chicken biscuits.
BP 130/72. What! I demand a recount!
HR 60... hmmmmm

"Well, that's it for the paperwork..."
"Wait!!! Um... Can't we do the questions again?!?! I don't think I understood them..."

So here it is... the Moment.

I'm sitting comfy in an office chair. I start rolling up my sleeve. I look over, longingly at the exam table, wishing I could just curl up in the fetal position. About this time Lynn's assistant walks in. I never got her name... I also decide, at this time, to confess my problem. Really, they chuckle, aren't you a doctor?

So it's really on now! Lynn takes my left arm, as I look away. I close my eyes, and begin to yammer rubbish. At some point I mentioned the BY! (It really is all her fault!!!!) The ladies try to take this queue to divert my attention from the 8 foot long needle they're about to jam into my antecubital fossa.

"Oh is this your first...."
Feeling the pinch of that dammed rubber tourniquet snap around my arm. I think she removed some of my hair. That's ok though, I have plenty more.

"Yes"

"Why that's nice"

"Yes I really think it is. Don't you think we need to go over the questions some more?"

**prick***

"Are you ok?"

"... yes ...."

I thought I was. I felt the needle go in. Not so bad, I thought, I can make it! (My eyes were still closed with my head turned the other way.)

But then it happened. I could feel the fuzziness start to come over me. Started somewhere near the shag carpeting, into my toes, up my legs... Then the ears (dammed them) got all muffled... Tunnel vision came next... (How does one get tunnel vision with their eyes closed!?!?!?!?!?!?) I knew I was the Titanic, I was going down.

" ... um.... no ..."

Ahhhh.... I was back in my 4Runner... turning into my driveway... pulled up to the Green Machine.... saw Charmaine and the BY playing in the yard.....

" .. MICHAEL!!! MICHAEL!!! MICHAEL !!!" ... shake, shake, shake....

"..wh- wh- what?..." oh crap!!! They were both standing up now looking at me. Somehow I had managed to stay in the chair... feet on the ground... but about as slouched into it as possible with my head all the way back... cold and clammy all over... Damn! (maybe they could take the urine sample now from the carpet..... just kidding, thankfully)

The nurse helper went off to fetch me some water, while Lynn dutifully put a bandaid over my boo-boo. I got a nice cold bottle of Deer Park water out of it. Ahhh! Refreshing.

So by this time I am totally embarrassed, so I do what I do best, make fun of myself. Lynn and helper decide to jump in on it too, "There's no way you're going to make it through your wife's delivery!!! Thanks.

"So, ummm, does this little event get logged on the paperwork?" (nervous giggle)
Awkward silence... **chirp, chirp***

So, once they feel I can stand again, I have go to the bathroom and provide some urine. Thankfully I regained my motor functions and was on target! I brought the cup back.

"That's it! You're done"

Great. Thanks.

"Is this really going on the paperwork?!?!?"

Stay tuned.

Father's Day, BY Style!!!

Whew, what a day!!!

It started out like any other, until I realized that it was Father's Day! Technically, I am a father; I just didn't get the memo. But, nonetheless, it was a great day, filled with little BY-style rants and snippets. Hopefully I can put into a short, humorous form.

8am: I roll over and realize that the GolfCart is not there. Not unusual, but the fact that I am awake at 8 is. Damn. Guess I have to get up.

8:15: I saunter into the living room, see the GC and wish her a good morning. I mosey over to fix me some water and plop back on the couch next to her. She is grinning at me like I should notice something. "What?" I ask. "Oh, Don't you want to open your present?" "Present! Oooh. To what do I deserve this honor?" "It's Father's Day you dummy!"

8:20: I see the present wrapped on the dinner table. Hmmm, how did I miss it before? I amble over to the table and read the card. Touching. (Editors note: those who know us well, know that I am the definitely sappy one. She's tough, but softening nicely with marriage, and possible, hormones. We both wear the pants though! ... er... yeah!)

8:30: I open the box and see a painting. It was something we saw a couple of months ago during one of our walkabouts in downtown W-S. It was a small, nice oil painting of a slain bull. We both liked it a lot when we saw it, and the GC went back later and grabbed it. "Awesome. I love it"

8:35: As I stare at the dead bull with the bandelleros sticking out of it, I stumble upon a scary thought. "Was the GC trying to tell me something? Is this supposed to be an allegory of my life? Is she trying to subliminally let me know that this is the end of my life as I know it? Am I the dead bull in the painting? The end of my current bachelor-like carefree lifestyle? No more internet surfing? ESPN.com? Oh God! Could she be that evil?" I look over at her smirking at me.... hmmm.... Back to the dead bull painting... back to the smirking GC... UH OH!
(Editors note: the use of those big words did not come without help for my poor little engineering mind. I had to use dictionary.com, and I still probably did it wrong)

8:45: After a lovely breakfast of diet Dr Pepper and an everything bagel, we proceed with our plan for the day: the last bike ride in W-S. We had it all planned out. Yesterday we went to Dick's sporting goods and bought a nice hitch bike rack. Spent like 30mins talking to the bike helper dude (who had some freakish knowledge of bike racks) and bought a 4-bike rack. Nice rack! (hee hee) Supposedly it gives you more space for 2 bikes, so that the don't bang into each other... blah blah blah... (flashback to Sears fiasco, and more $$$ is flying out of my wallet).

So we're getting dressed, and I can't find my biker pants. Yes, I know... scary. They are made of spandex, but with the very very very useful addition of extra butt padding sewn in. Makes for a nice comfortable ride. Plus I put them under some shorts. But they're gone! The GC must have packed them in one of her recent hormone flurries.
(Editors note: It seems the new thing for the GC is to pre-organize our stuff to be packed. Seems that she cannot stand the way the movers packed us last time, haphazardly packing stuff in boxes. So essentially now she has begun to pack boxes, in anticipation of the movers packing boxes. Somehow this makes sense to the GC. Yesterday I tried to gently question her about, and was met with a hormone fueled stare that burned right through my skull! Issue dropped then and there....)

9am: We make it down to the garage with all our accoutrements (except my butt-padding) and begin to load the bikes. I grab the bikerack box from the storage shed, and proceed to assemble. Got to step 2, when realized that we needed wrenches. "Where are the wrenches babe?" "Oh, they're in the tool bag" (hee hee). Open the tool bag... no wrenches!!! Ummm... I grab the GC and we stare at the open bag.... Both simultaneously flashing back to the Green Machine. Damn!!! They're in Wilmington!!!

9:30: Crap! Then I remember an old tool set that I had bought, similar to one of my former roommates. Had some wrenches in there. But where was it? I asked the GC, and was greeted with a profoundly blank stare, with some hormones. This was getting me nowhere. I run back upstairs, tear thought the closets, but no tools. Finally the GC says to look in the large tupperware bins in our storage closet. Bingo! We're saved!

9:55: Continue to work on the rack. Get it into my truck hitch and then go to put the bolt through. I go to tighten the bolt down and realize that it is the size of my fist! Uh oh! Search through the newly found tool set, and nothing fits. Damn. The GC asks if we can still use the rack. Hmmm... It is in the hitch, but then shimmies around like a bowl full of jelly! Without a big wrench to tighten it down, it isn't secure. (editors note: think bowl full of jelly and the GC and you have a future BY posting)

10:00: F#$%!!!!!!!! My irritation is rising. The GC states "I have to pee". Seriously!!?!?! Isn't this like the 7th time this morning?!?!?! She goes back upstairs, as I struggle with the damn rack. F-ing F-ing F-er!!! Damn!!! We're screwed.

10:10: The GC comes down with our next door neighbor and goes off to his shed. Oh geez, did she rope in our poor neighbor into this? The hormones must be really rolling now. They come back with a wrench. Doesn't fit. Damn! But he has bigger wrenches in his truck. But his truck is at work. Before we could tell him no, he's off in his wife's car to get his wrench. Damn now the GC has ruined 2 family's days! Damn the estrogen!

10:25: He comes back with 2 ginormous wrenches which do the trick. The rack is up! We're ready to load the bikes! Mine goes on without a glitch, except I almost took off my finger. Must be careful, don't have my disability insurance yet! Then the GC's bike is up....... ..... ...

....
...
Hmmm..

When we bought our bikes way back when, the GC ... er... Charmaine opted to go with the Cruiser option. Nice bike with extra-cushiony seat (springs too). Except that it doesn't have a crossbar from the handlebars to the seat. Can't put the damned thing on the rack. We shimmy... pull it off... flip it around... turn it on its head... nothing. By this point my irritation is rising to ultra-high levels. I grab the bike and jam it on the rack's arms. The whole damned car is shaking violently, boucing up and down as I try to maneuver it. Finally got it on there. Whew! GC and I back up to admire... the front wheel is sticking straight up in the air on one arm ... and the springy seat is on the other arm barely hanging on .... Not aerodynamic or sea-worthy.

I didn't want to ride anymore....

But no one will deny the GC! So we went back to the original method of transport: took off the front wheel, laid down my back seats, and put her bike in my truck. My bike stayed on the rack.

10:45: We drive off. GC and I with our 2 bikes. One in the truck, and the other sitting comfortably alone on the 4-bike bike-rack. Glad I went with the 4 bike rack, it was definitely $$$ well spent!

10:55: Make it to the trail, unload, and begin the ride.

10:56: Damn we're out of shape! My legs were aching, my lungs were burning, and my butt..... well....

12:00: We make it back to the car after our ride. I am dead. Couldn't even make it to the lake. The GC stopped 1 mile into it to "take a break". I soooooo wanted to sit with her, but she said "Go on without me..." in a way that implied that my manhood is being tested. I tried to play the protective husband card, but the GC would have none of that. I had to go on. I would not be the bull!!! But that adrenaline surge lasting until she was out of sight. It took forever to do a circuit, swing around, and pick her up.

12:30: We made it back home to shower. Dropped off the wrenches and thank our neighbor profusely. Shower. Then go back out to lunch.

12:45: Got to the irish bar. Funny, I didn't know W-S was Irish? And eat. Love me some fish n chips!!!! Had to have a beer too... This will probably be our last time at this place. We shed a tear.... ***whimper, whimper***

1:15: Make it to the coffeehouse to study. Yes, not that exciting, but with my boards and all the other stuff coming up....

1:30: Getting sleepy... maybe shouldn't have had that beer. I got the "I told you so" look from the GC. Was even more intense with the added hormones!

4pm: Made it through studying, and back to house to feed Ham. Then we both napped some.... we've had a big day.

7pm: Dinner. Yum yum. We were creative with the remaining food products. Pasta with vegetables.

9:30: Settling down for the evening.

Whew! I'm all typed out. Have to go to bed now.

Happy Father's Day!

Happy Father's Day from the GolfCart

For those of you who know me well, you may also know that at a young age (before I was able to pick up those annoying closet feminist sensibilities), I learned how to use a sewing machine from my mom. This is one of the Baby Yarnoz products of that knowledge.... the prototype sleeper made from one of Mike's old tee-shirts with a special iron-on added. Mike also turned loose one of his Duke Final Four tee-shirts for BY as well.... what a sacrifice! He's already turning into a swell future dad. Let's just see how he does with those diapers....

Happy Father's Day!!

BY, Kitchen Remodel, Limited-Time Offer, and the GolfCart!!!

It is 8:15pm and I am just sitting down to relax after a long day. Actually I am drinking a tall glass of the last remaining alcohol in the loft. Vodka. Ahhh... So what happened you ask? Well....

So the day was just like any other, except that today the GolfCart was cruising hybrid-style down to Wilmington to check over the renovation progress. So I get up, shower, walk dog, kiss her goodbye, roll into work, meet patient, prep for ablation. Ablation going well... finished the flutter line, took care of the fibrillation, yada yada yada... Until she starts developing other flutters from all over the place. I lost count after 4. This was around 2pm, and I realize that it is going to be a long day...

Still tracking down flutters until I get a page around 4pm... "782-3208"

Hmmm... well those numbers are familiar, but not exactly the GolfCart's. (Sidenote: one interesting thing about the GC is that now with the hormones, iphone, and hunger and all, she never can page me her right phone number... Don't know why) But I get mine confused all the time too, so I call her back.

"Hey"
"Yo baby! What's up?" In the background, I hear lots of ambient noise, chatter, and overhead Muzak....
"I'm at $3@%@ (local appliance store that will remain nameless). I need your help." Hmm, i think, what is going on. (Editors note: the original plan for appliances was to order them on the 1st when we get down there, get a creditcard, and put them on lay-a-way... always wanted to do that!)
"What's up?"
"Well... umm... I need you to go to ____ and sign up for a credit card."
"eh?!?!"
"Well, I'm here now, and it turns out that we can get 10% off, free shipping, and all our appliances if we order by the 18th!" Hmmmm
"Oh"
"I tried to get one myself, but was denied during the lightning question round." (For those who don't know, the GC was the victim way-back-when of some identity theft/cell phone scheme from South Jersey. Now she has some super lockdown on her ID and no cards can be issued without talking to the Pope.)
"Really."
"Yeah. We need to do this by the 18th, cuz that's when the deal goes away. I met some dude, named Chuck (I think), that can "rig" the system and get us free shipping as well as the lay-a-way."
(Editors note: So those of you who know Charmaine, realize that when she gets something into her head, she doesn't let it go. Bulldogish. One of her lovely, amazing qualities. Well, know as the GolfCart, these qualities are amplified a 1000%!!! Add to it some extra hormones and some crazy GERD, and you see where this is going)
"Hmmm. I think I can help." Meanwhile, I am sitting in the control room, looking into the lab as my attending is blazing away at flutter #4. I think I am never going to get out of the lab to do this on time.
"I'll give you a call when I'm done here"

So I hang up. Damn, what shady thing are we getting ourselves into now! So I sulk back inside the lab. I am leary to go near the stimulator, for fear of inducing flutter #5.

Finally, it's 6pm and we're done!!! No more tachycardias! I scribble out my report, enter some computer orders, and wait for her to wake up. I am not sure if she was fully awake as the anesthesiologists rolled her out the door. But I didn't care; MUST HELP THE GC!!!

I call her from the road. She's staked out at the Mall, eating dinner, waiting for my call. We hatch out the Plan. By this time, I make it to the store. I hang up. I wander around the store, until I axe (NC lingo) some lady where I can apply for a card. Oh, she says with a smile, right over here. (I see wheels churning, and $$$ falling out of my pockets!) She leads me over to a girl who couldn't be older than 20 to take my info. The whole form is "really easy", just write your name here and sign here. So, then into the computer, she takes my SSN and my drivers license number, and DOB. Then we wait....

Um, sir... you've been denied! WHAT!@?!?@?! Fo Real!?!?!?! (I had visions of the GC waiting by the appliance counter wanting to kill me) She hands me the printout with the computer text on it. In my mind, I hear the losing theme from the Price is RIght (wa wa waaaaa!!)

But there is a number on it to call. So I did. Talked to George, who sounded American, I think. Then he punted me to Stephen (after 15mins of waiting). During this time, surprisingly, I had not heard from the GC!. So Mr Yarnoz, let us see what was the problem with your application. (Dammit Steve, I didn't go to 6 years of evil medical school to be called Mr!!!). Well, sir, it turns out you were denied application because of age. Really?!?!?! How old do you have to be to get a card from here? Hmmm... it has your birthday as 2003!!! Fo real! Damn, that young attendant. She brought on the angst of the GC!!!! So after another 10minutes of updating, I get approved. Yeah!

Now by this time, my cellphone is surely dying. (Always at the worst time) So I call the GC back, and tell her the news. I give her the info that Chuck needed... (funny, I feel in about 2 months I might be a victim of some cellphone scam in South Jersey too.) and drive home thinking that everything should be handled.

Sort of.

I make it home to find Ham, poor guy, sitting by the door with his back legs crossed. Poor guy didn't know what he wanted first: food, bathroom, or petting. Watching him jump around was funny. Turns out he wanted food. So now, I get a call from the GC: there might be an issue with the amount of $$$ we're charging. What!!?!?! Yeah, .. oh wait.. the company's going to call you now.

Crap. We're busted. I can see it now. I am going to get stuck with $20k worth of Mary Kay products and Tupperware.

So I get a call from the stores' consumer center. Oh boy. By this time, Ham's had enough of food and realizes that his bladder/bowels are talking now! I am so hyped up right now, I tell the dude everything. Ramble ramble ramble. He must have thought I was pregnant! How we're moving, trying to renovate a kitchen, wife's pregnant with our firstborn, dog needs to pee, how i'm losing my hair. He finally says that everything is ok, probably just to get me to shut up.

Whew! Done!

I call back the GC, who's now at home, happy as a lark with the knowledge that we saved some $$$ somewhere in this whole crazy thing, preparing to paint the BY's closet!

That is what made it all worthwhile. Hopefully it all works out...


But if not, who needs some Tupperware?

Stay Tuned

3D Ultrasound, part 2

This video is 3D of BY's Left Hand.

For orientation, it is coming up from the lower/middle right and extending to the left. Hopefully that helps.





(The prior ultrasound was of BY's head, laying on her left ear looking at the screen. Her forehead is at 3 o'clock, mouth at 9 o'clock...)

Ultrasound 6/13/09

Sorry for the delay in the Ultrasound feeds, things have been very hectic in the BY universe. Time is also growing short for the unlimited access to the ultrasound machine. Hopefully we'll get another chance to scan.

Musings from Closing Weekend: Thursday

Day 1, Thursday:


Most Ominous Early Sign: getting Ham ready with a pre-ride walk, and suddenly getting poured on!

Worst Part of the Drive Down I-40: driving 90% of the way in a torrential downpour. Is God trying to tell me something?

Best Part of the Drive: listening to Dave Matthews on XM Radio. (Sort of became the theme music for the weekend. Esp his new song: "You and Me")

Best Hamilton Moment during the ride: during a break in the rain, I cracked open the back passenger window. Next thing I know he had his whole head out of the car!!! His eyes were sunk in the back of his head, and cheeks flapping away.

Scariest Hamilton Moment: this occurred at 75mph!!!

Worst Hamilton Moment: as we rolled into Wilmington, and promptly got lost, it seemed he had enough of the car.... couldn't sit still... whining... Horrible. And then I had a glimpse of what my future would be....

From the "I Never Thought I'd Be So Happy to See a Days Inn Files": man, my bladder was full.

From the "I'm a Little Scared of Days Inn Files": being greeted by 4 shirtless dudes on the second floor, sittin on coolers in wife-beaters, drinkin PBRs.

From the "Always Searching for Patients": I gave them my business card. (I mean BY's gonna need some shoes and diapers aren't cheap!)

From the Fallacy in Advertising Files: somehow a refrigerator, microwave, coffee maker, and cable TV didn't look as impressive in real life as on the 'Net!

Best Days Inn Moment... **chirp, chirp**

Best Noise of the Day: landing on the bed in a heap, and hearing a loud **ffffffttttt***! (Alas, I could not take advantage of this)

Stay Tuned

Musings From Closing Weekend

Wow, what a weekend!

It really had so much stuff, that we are just now finally recovering. Laughter, drama, screams, joys, and Hamilton!

The snippets of the weekend are coming back piece by piece. So I'll have to post an entry reviewing each day.

Whew!

CLOSED in Wilmington!!

Whew! What a day!!

But as of this posting, we are the proud owners of a Green Machine!!!


The day started off like any other. Waking up, walking dog, eating scones with the GolfCart. Then we decided to venture over to the Green Machine to walk around. That was nice, and soon it was time to go back to the hotel to get ready for the closing.


So, we're back at Shang-ri-La.... "Mike, where are your nice clothes?" asks the GolfCart. "Hmmm...." (Flashback to packing the night before... "I'll leave them hanging, and put them in the car"......) "Crap!!!"


"Can I do the closing in shorts?" NO!!!


Crap crap crap... Where do you get khakis and a shirt 30 minutes before your closing? Target!!! Oh yes, I drove like a bat-out-of-Hades to Target, ran in, tried on pants and shirt, bought them, and made it back by Noon. Got changed, grabbed the GC and Ham, and busted out the door. Whew!!! Crisis averted.



So before we go to the closing, we have to take care of the dog. This was my brillant addition to the day. We made a reservation at a doggie spa (at Petco, not that exciting) where we could drop him off while we do our thing. Easy! We asked for the works, since he had been so neglected recently. I don't remember all of the details of his afternoon, but it did include nail clipping, teeth cleaning, and cleansing of his anal glands. Seriously. As we dropped him off, I couldn't help but feel a sense of irony as our dog was going to get "cleaned" while we were going off for the same.


We made it to the closing attorney's office with time to spare. Even had time to get some iced coffee to power the GC! Went in and signed like a million papers. There were papers we signed that said were to document that we saw and signed other papers. Yup, fo real! At the end of the session we were the proud owners of a Green Machine! This monumental occasion (where the BY and future BY's were to be nurtured and raised into adulthood) was celebrated in a $30 Target outfit.


So, the rest of the afternoon, the GC dragged me everywhere to "get things done, before we got the dog back". This included going to 2 separate tile stores, talking to smarmy salesmen, grabbing samples, going to Lowe's, picking out paints, and then picking up the dog.

Ham made it through the ordeal as well. As we sauntered off to the car, Ham had a little different hitch in the gitty-up; kinda waddled a little with a very ginger sitting motion. Hmmm, I think I knew how he felt.


At the end of this lovely day, we celebrated with a lovely feast from our favorite dining establishment.

Chillin' at the Days Inn!

Well, the Father and Ham have arrived safely in Wilmington, meeting up with the lovely GolfCart. I made a wrong turn coming into town and wound up at the beach... Wasn't so fun in the dark rain, with a schizo dog in the way back who just couldn't take it in the car anymore. (Uh oh, sounds like parenthood!)

Anyways, we're hanging out at the Days Inn now (See insert)... But it is not all it was cracked up to be. The website advertised a nice queen size bed, minifridge, microwave, and cheap dog lodging. Sounded like a little piece of remote hotel heaven. So we booked it, and saved money with the cool internet sales!

Well, I am not sure what we thought we were getting ourselves into. Maybe we were tainted by all the nicer establishments we have stayed in before (coincidentally on other peoples'/corporations' dimes).

I drove into the parking lot and was greeted by "locals" (I think), who were hanging out on the second floor, sitting on coolers and drinking cold beers. Hmmm nice.

As for the other amenities:

Queen bed: About as comfortable as a hospital bed, but much much cheaper. Interesting for the fact that every time you sit on it or move around, it makes loud farting sounds. Nice (but maybe I can use this one to my advantage...)

The minifridge: Small. Didn't seem very cold. Will have to check and see if the Coke Zeros are cool in the AM. TBD.

The microwave: Interestingly doesn't work. (go figure) Makes a lot of whirring noises... and spins the warming plate really, really fast. I mean really fast. Kind of puts you into a trance watching it spill. But, I think this is actually detrimental- it must cool as it warms. Nice.

Bathroom: small. Standing up to use the toilet, I think I was in the foyer. So I shimmied a little, and wound up in the shower.... Hmmm. Nice.

Total: not looking good.

The GolfCart wants to spend tomorrow night in the Green Machine, but we have to stay here- it's already paid.

DAMNED THE INTERNET SALE!!!!

Stay Tuned.

BY Roadtrip!!!

Well, here we go!!!

Half of the BY Caravan has left Winston-Salem to go to Wilmington. The other half will leave tonight (with Ham) after work.

Hopefully, we will close on the Green Machine tomorrow, providing a roof and warm quarters for the BY for years to come.


Stay tuned.

New BY Poll

Thanks to all those who voted in the last BY poll. Camila narrowly defeated Pilar for your favorite Spanish name.


Now for the American names...


In the left column is a new poll of possible American names for the future BY. Being that she'll be a full blown mutt, we need to peruse through all possible options.

Please cast your vote.

We're Under 100!!!!!!

Less than 100 days and counting! Who would have believed we'd make it this far?!?!

Unfortunately, we did not celebrate this day properly, being pushed aside by threats of eviction and serious problems with the shady side of the home mortgage business. Baby Yarnoz had serious surges of cortisol and adrenaline, courtesy of her mother, who was continuously bombarded with worries of being homeless and not being able to pay for BY's college education.

Fortunately, these frightful scenarios have been worked out. After a lovely weekend in Atlanta (filled with reunions and booze for her daddy), BY's problems are but a thing of the past. We are back on track, with plans to close on the Green Machine this Friday.

Whew!

(** Knock on wood **)

Ultrasound 5-24-09

Hot of the Press!

Going to the Ultrasound!!!

We're going to the ultrasound!!!

As the movie maker produces the next installment, here are some pics of us prepping this AM.

Hello from Mike’s ‘Baby Mama’

I know, I know, this is Mike’s blog, and believe me, I’m glad for it, but the other day I thought that a cameo appearance was in order. Now that I’ve read Mike’s most recent post, I think I deserve a chance to document what I am really thinking (not that I’m implying that he lied – I probably really did say all of those things).

First of all, pregnancy is no picnic. Of course, I’m not a particularly pleasant pregnant woman, but any woman who says that it’s wonderful is certifiably nuts. (And women who pay surgeons money to enlarge their breasts to DDs and beyond should be put in a straightjacket.)

But this wild overdose on progesterone does have its interesting moments. The part about renting out your body is true --for 33 years every cell in my body has concentrated on making me fitter to survive, but about a month after conception all of that changed. Now I am nothing more than an incubator for the survival of the future Yarnoz (and have the hot flashes to prove it.) No longer do any of my cells care what happens to me. It’s quite the betrayal, really. The fact that this has happened for millennia boggles my mind sometimes.

Anyway, this is what I am really thinking:

Most miserable moment: Weeks 4 – 17 wanting to simultaneously eat and vomit on a constant basis
Most amazing moment: Watching Mike’s face the first time he did an ultrasound on me. (“Wow! That thing is big! No wonder you feel like crap!!”)
Strangest moment: Tearing up over roadkill. That’s when I knew I had crossed over and the hormones had me.

Worst experience of the first trimester: Interviewing in Wilmington with terrible morning sickness. Then driving around in a car all day looking at houses.
Best experience of the first trimester: Mike’s ultrasounds, reminding me there was a reason for all of this.

Worst realization of the second trimester: Whatever I put on, it won’t look good.
Best realization of the second trimester: I’m halfway there.

Worst physical change: Toss up between my mid-thoracic back pain and bigger butt. But the back pain wins. It’s a killer at work.
Best physical change: Probably not appropriate for the blog… The runner up is my own baby soft skin.
Weirdest physical change: The super-powerful olfactory nerve. The evolutionary reason for this is amazing. If I were a prehistoric woman and there was a stinky carnivore or poisonous fish anywhere near me this baby would be safe, I tell you.

Thing I miss the most: Haiti. No, ibuprofen. No, Haiti. Well, that’s a tough one. I suspect the first thing I will do when this thing pops out is take ibuprofen. So I guess it’s the winner. But I definitely miss Haiti.
Thing I miss the least: WINE! So surprising! I wanted to break all the rules but I have no taste for it. (I also did not drink coffee for 6 months… for those of you who know me, this is quite amazing as well.)

Biggest craving: Citrus fruits.

Most interesting thing going on at home: Well, besides the new jobs, new house, moving, etc, it’s definitely the fact that Hamilton has sniffed out the rival and knows his life is about to change. (Whereas Mike seems to have no idea!) I thought those stories about dogs sniffing out tumors was hokey, but he’s onto the teratoma inside of me.
Most interesting thing going on away from home: All the staring at my abdomen. And the knowing smiles from the community of women who are already mothers.

(: cal

"How Do I Feel???"

Now that Charmaine is feeling better, I think it is time to publish my secret project.



Everyday since we knew of the new tike's impending arrival, I have asked M "How Do You Feel?" Most responses have been mundane.... But the humorous ones, now there we have some fun...



So I have dutifully kept a log of her responses, which are now included below. Enjoy.



"How do you feel?"

• I feel like blegh!

• I feel like I'm renting out my body, and the tenant isn't very nice

• Feel!?!?!?!! How do you think I feel!!! Look at me, you bastard!!! It's all your fault!!!

• I feel like there is an alien inside me and ET won't Phone Home.

• I feel good. na-na-na-na-nanana!

• I feel like my appendix is up in my throat!

• I feel like she is using my left ureter as a baby rattle!!!

• I feel like there is a golf ball rolling around inside of me.

This led to a smattering of golf analogies...

• I feel like she's tearing up the golf course; she's 3 under par for the front nine!

• I feel like Tiger's brought out the driver to my lower back.

• I feel like a golf cart... and probably look like one too!

Sorry for the delay...

Sorry everyone for the delay in posting, or lack of posts, recently. I have been out of town for the big, yearly EP convention and took a while to get back into the groove.

Thanks to all for the votes on the Spanish names as well.

To which, in the coming posts, we are to see:

1. An American names poll.
2. Pictures
3. Another Ultrasound
4. A commentary from Charmaine?
5. Other random info

Spanish Baby Names (For Real!)

Maine and I have been struggling with baby names... Yes, I know you can hardly believe that Charmichaela is not going to be her name.

Anyway, we have found some Spanish names that we are considering, and were wondering your thoughts. The unfortunate problem is that we are going to be living in North Carolina, where the subtleties of the pronunciation might be lost. (Maybe, Charmichaela will have to stick.)

So the poll is now up on the left, under the portrait.

Ultrasound 5.2.09

The Green Machine!!!

Here it is, in all its Green Glory!!!!

http://tours.360vt.com/tvt/viewer/default.asp?pnl=slideshow&scene=403381&mkt=Wilmington&size=large&sa=n

Be sure to look at the 360 degree tour.


Just Lovely!!!!!