Dangling by a VERY thin thread.

Since I have become with child and my brain has been sucked of crucial blood flow I have:

1- Backed into a large brick column in my own driveway

2-Rewashed gawd knows how many loads of laundry b/c I can't remember there in there...2 days later HOLY sour

3- Threatened a tween age boy within an inch of his life if he didn't pipe down during my babymoon fancy dinner with Michael in Atlanta

4-Obsessed, yelled, laughed, and cried (sometimes at the same time) by some of the unbelievable and terrifying things that have fallen out of Michael's mouth (ex. Why would we need a changing table for more than 3 months? Won't he be done with that by then?)

And then Monday came.....

I hit the ground running ready to attack the day. While in the shower I decide, yes my husband should get some damnit. Apparently there's a rumor going around that ALL husbands/baby daddies of pregnant woman are told there woman will get horny in the 2nd trimester. BULLSHIT! But that's neither here nor there..back to the shower. Since I'm hell bent on keeping my husband around throughout the pregnancy all I have to offer at this point is the s-e-x ---certainly not the funny quirky gal he fell in love with! First things first, get my vajayjay in order. Razor - check, shave gel - check, vajayjay---no check. WTF!?! She's gone. She's gone. I can't see her! I CAN'T see her! It's bad enough she changed color and I thought I had vajayjay cancer(coast is clear on that) but now she's disappeared entirely underneath my stomach. RIDICULOUS! I had to lean over to find her and to my horror have to admit she has been incredibly neglected. I guess I was busy waxing the newest (visible) hair patches to sprout around my body. 30 minutes later she's lookin as best as can be expected and I'm out and ready to attack the day.

Getting ready to run out the door to a listing appointment Michael casually mentions that maybe later on we can go look at strollers and make a decision. Frickin' strollers! 6 different types and that's not even mentioning the brands, price range, safety, useability. So, no I am not excited about going out AGAIN to narrow down a stroller selection. Normal Lexapro me would write say something like "sure, honey this week we can make that happen!" But crazy, rageaholic me leaves the house in a frazzled rage. Hop in the car running late reverse out the driveway and BAM--METAL. I drive smack into the side of Michael's car.

Why he doesn't go Ike Turner on me at this point is BEYOND me?! Maybe this process is teaching him patience or maybe he's secretly moving out of the house one item at a time. Either way I'm sure it'll be fine. I'm also fairly sure I didn't get the listing as I marched up in there mascara smeared down my face, sweating buckets and CLEARLY frazzled.

Rest of the day pretty much a wash as I'm just exhausted....

Oh yeah, went to the grocery store gonna make some salmon and rice and salad..mmmmmm

Check out, get to car and realize I have bought everything EXCEPT the flippin' salmon.

And yes to answer the burning question on your mind, he got some.

Gotta go, there's gray hairs to be plucked from my head, black hairs to be waxed from my belly and let's not even think about the beard/new pimples that have no doubt blossomed throughout the day!

It's a......

BOY! Holy crap it has a penis...and for that matter balls. INSANE! Ours was quite the little performer (where does he get that from?!?!) at the ultrasound yesterday. Look mommy I can pounce on your bladder with both feet the whole time you're looking at me! Michael immediately believes he's athletic...ummmm ok. And then WHAM-MO he pees inside my belly! NASTY nasty nasty factor just went up a ton.... I can also point my index finger (Michael believes he was showing us his guns)...I think he was about to pick his nose. Then changed his mind and smacked himself in the face...so he's graceful just like his mother!

Read on the internet they also get little how shall I put this hard-ons while in the womb! THAT explains A LOT about many of ex's now! He appears to have a brain--a LARGE genius size brain..pretty easy to guess what Michael thinks looked large as well! MEN! Can't live with 'em...can't make a baby without their sperm.

Baby boy! The soccer fields of America will never be the same again!

Holy freakin' decisions!

Jeezus! I mean literally Jesus. Among the many decisions we'll, I'll, be making in the next second is day care. Apparently it's a black market here in Savannah. WHO KNEW?!?! The second I got pregnant I was told you better get on the list here and take cupcakes to these people there and become friends with this mom over there. Did I mention I'm off alcohol, and Lexapro...probably not the best time to try and make friends. Let's be honest the ones I have are holding on by a thread waiting to have the old fun me back! PLUS those who know me won't be to shocked at the acknowledgement that ass kissing has never been my strong suit. If I think you're a d-bag sooner or later it's gonna slip out...so moving away from the "it's who you know day care center".

What I'd ideally like is somewhere clean and free of major diseases that smells fresh (with a splash of clorox) and is painted (preferably low-voc) in the right hues to encourage genius behavior with a side of quick wit. In a perfect world it would be staffed with patient, loving, CPR trained medical professionals who choose to come to work every day(because they aren't doing it for the money). No where in my perfect daycare dream did I mention Jesus. I don't have a problem with Jesus--so I don't need you freakin' out on me-- I just don't want daycare to be about Jesus. Can't it just be about the day care of my child? Really, is that too much to ask for? I toured one facility and holy testimony. 45 minutes inside what I can only assume at one point was a cleaning closet now turned "nursing room" hearing a testimony about how Jesus lead her to open this day care. Jesus, led her to quit her job and not have one for over a year...my momma always taught me not to quit one job until you have another but anywho...She was a very pretty lady (her highlights were worth every penny). Took the 10 minute tour and at the end end when it was time for questions all I wanted to know was "Who is your hair stylist?"

Speaking of hair mine looks fabulous!!! I gots my grays colored and they are sooooo pretty. That is sure to distract people from the beard, and mustache I'm dealing with. Michael and I have taken it to a new level of romance...he helped my wax my happy trail. Sooooo sexy!

Tankinis, and Fishin'!

I finally got my swollen, sweaty, pimply butt out of the house and onto our boat. A morning of fishing..and yes, mother, Michael drove the boat slow, what could be more fun?!?!? I squeezed into my tankini (that I actually already owned b/c at some point I thought I had a big stomach--bahahahah if the old me could see the preggo me!) and off we go.

I totally lubed up ('cause I've been told preggers burn faster than the non-carriers out there). 5o on my face and all we had was 15 so I put it on 2x to make a 30. We get to the spot and start the fishing. Well, the fish catching was out of control. EVERY cast we were catching fish. Several things I hadn't considered. Apparently I used my stomach as a great place to set the fishing pole so I had to hold it under my arm. Sounds fine until you have to jerk the pole and then I basically knock myself in the left boob EVERY SINGLE TIME. Also, we use live bait. Shrimp to be exact. Now, I've always had a soft spot for the animals of the world (we're a catch and release family) but I never considered the live shrimp. Until now. Every time I lean down to pick out a shrimp I think of the poor shrimp mom and dad, nieces, nephews and other shrimp family members desperately cowering in the corner of the live well as one of their own gets plucked from his world. I sucked it up and fished but it was a little sad. I tried to only use the REALLY big shrimp 'cause I'm thinking they've had a pretty good run of it.

What was supposed to be a day of boating turned into 3 hours. Not sure what happened but I went from normal to defcon 4 in like 15 minutes. We were cruising along and BAM starvation smacked me square in the ass. That followed up in under 2 minutes with a feeling of "holy shit it's hot". When did it get this damn hot? My skin is going to burst into flame. Damn it's really freakin' hot. I can't take it. It's too damn hot. Poor Michael, was the only other living being on the boat (besides the shrimp) and he once again had that deer in headlights look followed up with giving me a bag of sun chips and silence.

A nice cold shower was perfect. While toweling off I notice that apparently my tankini wasn't fully covering my rapidly expanding abdominal area and I have a real country come to town burn line running right under my belly button for about an inch. If the redneck yacht club is looking for a new president I think I may the overwhelming favorite...and that's not even sharing my latest hair growth/home wax experiment with you.

That's a pretty comical experiment. It all started with...oh hell no time for that now. Gotta get going on the bio oil/night time regime/war against stretchmarks.
Later!

I'll see your "sick and tired" and a raise you a "sick and pregnant"

Here I wander the earth sweaty, boobs swollen, broken out like a 14 year old who now has a weird version of a baby bump/beer belly thing happening. Not cute that people want to touch it but jiggly and odd that causes 99% of people I know to question is she pregnant or just drinking her way through this recession. When WHAM-O, here comes a damn summer cold immediately followed by a sinus infection from HELL! So, what's a jiggly pregnant gal to do? Well, I'll tell ya. NOT A HELLUVA LOT! As I'm sucking on my 47th Halls menthol lozenge, I happen to think "Hey, I can have these right?!?!". What did pregnant women do without google? I'll tell you what they probably got to finish that 47th cough lozenge. Not me, as I read that "menthol can cause contractions". FRICK! FRICK! FRICK!

Next up the neti pot. Looks cute. Shaped like a geni's bottle and very fung shuiish. How hard can it be? Pour salt water into one nostril it will magically come out of 2nd nostril and in just an unlimited amount of sessions I'll be cured. All you have to do is breath in out and from your mouth and pour! The first 2 days was great. It was cool to see pour water in one nostril and have it come out the other one. Really neat. No real change in my misery but neat none the less.

Than day 3 when the real sinus infection kicks in. At the sink, head tilted, pot in nostril, pouring perfectly.....nothing coming out the other nostril. So I tilt my head a little further maybe needing some more gravity I think. And then BAM I'm drowning. FRICKIN' drowning as the water gushes down my throat (where I'm breathing from 'member?). Not to be gross but not just salt water, nasty nose (sick nose) salt water. Not only am I drowning but now my unborn child is having to drink my nasty booger salt water. Needless to say, I end up hacking until I'm crying and then just crying 'cause I can't breath...which increases my mucus production closing off any air hole that did exist in the damn nostrils. Michael stands behind me just saying he's sorry. He's getting used to saying that A LOT. Even when he has nothing to be sorry for, good man.

Needless to say, neti-pot has been stored deep in the back of the kitchen sink banished forever. I have broken down and begun taking Sudafed...before you all FREAK out and email me that I can't have that, it's the regular kind and yes I can! Called my doctor 2x to confirm. Sweet relief.

Lastly something funny happened. Michael and I were laying in bed and I had just snuggled down up against my body pillow when I felt a weird flutter inside my stomach. A freakin' flutter inside my stomach. I kind of spazzed when it happen. Quickly rolling away. Staring at the ceiling, I exclaimed "holy shit, something just happened." Michael just stares at me. Then I wait. With big eyes, hardly breathing, kind of like you do when you wake in the middle of the night and think you heard something. But then......nothing. Was it indigestion? Am I about to toot? Burp? Sneeze? Nothing. So, I guess that was my first feeling something.

INfrickinSANE! Brace yourselves beatches, it looks like we're having baby.

wow the 12th week is just as long and draaaaawn out as the others

Let's get something straight just because you get to wear a white coat doesn't make a you a doctor. In fact, if you'll take a minute to stop arguing with me about the existence of Listeria and look down you'll notice the word Publix monogrammed there. No you aren't Dr. Publix, you work in the deli. When I politely ask you to warm the deli meat for me why does a 30 minute speech ensue. NEVER mind that I'm clearly in a hurry. I guess it wasn't a dead giveaway that I come to you EVERY Sunday at 2:30 balloons, brownies and Signature Properties nametag on but I'm trying to get to an open house. The only thing I'd like is a 6 inch sub on whole wheat. I don't need to know that you "Ain't never heard of that Leestarie and I been workin' here almost 6 months". Truth be told you're barely legal and the only thing medically you're worried about is if the Proactiv is going to kick in soon. Needless to say I am then forced to explain (as a group of impatient beach goers grows around me) that I'm pregnant and that in EVERY freakin' book I've read I just simply need to ask you to warm up the FRICKIN' meat. Not in a single one of those dang books did it mention anything about this debate. In fact, after you finish your diatribe about who knows what, because truth be told I haven't heard a word you said (fixated on that pimple square in the middle of your chin that I'm dying to pop), you move over and I see a toaster RIGHT behind you. Thank you for obliging me. I was only 15 minutes late to my open house (that looks SUPER professional) and only had 2 balloons pop while standing there absently nodding my head at you.

FAT COW FAT COW and spontaneous crying..frickin' GREAT!

I'm 10 weeks pregnant and my stomach is HUGE. Everybody's like "it doesn't look as big as you think". To that I politely say BS! BS BS BS!!!! My stomach is bloated, swollen, gross. I know it's huge because I can see it when I look down and keep in mind my 40 pounds per boob are in between my eyes and my redneck stomach.

Next up, touching the stomach. So apparently it's going to happen. I would like to reinstate a quota. One touch and one touch only. So, if you've already touched, rubbed, or talked to my stomach you're done. You know who you are and I don't think you need/want me to name names (mom, Jessica, McCall....who am I missing?!). Plus when you lean down and talk to my stomach it looks like you're talking to my va jay jay and that's even weird.

Oh great a diet pill commercial just came on...and now I'm crying. This is ridamndiculous!

How/why has that crazy Duggar psycho done this like 30 times. INSANE!

To those who still keep mentioning twins. I love all of you and know somewhere deep, deep, DEEP down inside you mean well and are only joking BUT My vagina doesn't think you're funny and wouldn't me to pass along a message, SHUT UP. If by some insane weird medical freakshow I am carrying 2, I'll only be giving birth to one the other will just stay inside FOREVER!

Off to a home inspection where I'll probably be sweating (what asshole decided to call that glowing?!?!) WAAAAAY before anyone else.

Yep still uncomfortable

So, I had a friend ask why I haven't added any new blogs recently. The short answer is. I'm still angry. I'm still bloated. I'm still frickin' incredibly insane. And yes, I'm still nauseous. I kind of figured at this point people would want some sunshine so I was gonna wait until I felt a little glowy. Well, apparently that isn't happening unless glowy also means pimples and secreting oils from EVERY pore. One thing that has made me smile is your posts to my blog at least I know someone is reading this ridiculous path I'm on.

I should put out a warning (or maybe a t-shirt would be more fair) to all my clients, friends and acquaintances, I'M OFF MY LEXAPRO. I'm firing people left and right. I'm like the Donald, step out of line and you're fired. No questions asked. No 2nd chances. You're fired and that's it. My father-in-law and his wife came into town and stayed with us this week and I swear I fired him like 10x.

Oh yeah, and hair growth is out of control and I'm not just talking hair on the head....the face, the legs and everywhere in between. FREAKIN' ridiculous! Bye bye laser hair removal results, hello woolly mammoth.

Gotta go if I don't get the bio oil on my boobs at least a 1/2 hour before I get in bed it'll never dry.

Oh I'm sorry were we bothering you by expecting some SERVICE?!?!

Allow me to set the scene. A gorgeous, non humid Spring Saturday evening in Savannah, GA. We have made plans with 2 lovely people who've just found out our news. In preparation for the big night out I've 1-taken a lengthy nap to make sure not to nod off during the meal, 2- shaved my legs and put on some stilettos to appear to less bloated, 3- made reservations for 8pm (early enough but hoping just late enough the gnats will have gone to sleep) and 4- tucked my 1/2 card in the purse hoping to help with what will likely be a large tab. The stage is set, the actors (that's us) are ready and then the server had to go and FUCK it up!

Let me just say, that I am a server from WAAAAY back so you really have to suck for me to not give you 20%. We arrive on time (in fact 5 minutes early). I go pee(shocker) and we are seated outside. Then we wait....wait....wait. She finally does decide we're worth greeting (apparently enthusiasm isn't trendy this month) and we place a bottled water order (normally tap but read an article about pregnancy and tap so I have to be a pretentious ass for 40 weeks). I tried to place an order for bread (they charge $3 for it) but she was too quick in running away from us. Our dinner guests arrive (on time) and we wait some more...and some more. I go to that bathroom again.

By the time I return nothing has happened. NOTHING. No bread, no water, and no server. One of our diners goes into order our first of 2 bottles of wine (not the cheapest on the menu). Guy behind bar seems irritated, server no where to be found. YAY water arrives. Test like tap to me but does come in pretty glass bottle. (My super sensitive smell has picked up the lingering garbage odor but I choose to keep it to myself. It's fine. Maybe it'll keep away the gnats.)

Onto the menu and specials.
Server says "We are substituting the ribeye with the filet"
I get excited because filet sounds great.
Server says "But we're out of the filet"
So why even mention it?
Server goes over specials. I try to make eye contact and smile to no avail. She could give a crap.

Bread and wine show up. Great.
Michael and the other male guest decide on the Wahoo (fish special) that the server mentioned. Place order to server.
Server says "We are out of the Wahoo but it comes with some other kind of fish on top. Is that ok?"
Michael "What kind of fish?"
Server "Does it matter?"
My inner monologue. "Are you frickin' kidding me? Of course it matters. What if it's toadfish, or catfish, or jellyfish??? Seriously we're paying top dollar for you to know the specials...at the bare freakin' minimum the specials. You don't even have to be jolly about it but you do have to know it." I chug my water and try to imagine it being the lovely wine my dinner companions are downing. The server gives us a big ole sigh (b/c we're clearly putting her out) as she huffs back inside to find out what kind of fish is the entree special.

Food comes. It's mediocre at best. Which is REALLY disappointing b/c this place used to have exquisite food. I mean if you're gonna drive to a "transitional" area of town and deal with the server who sucks at least the food should be good, right!

FINALLY we reach the end. I'm pretty proud that I'm still awake. The rest of the group is trying to enjoy their 2nd bottle of wine and the 2 cheesecake slices we ordered (cause they were out of the chocolate dessert). I ask the server if they're going out of business and she explains that no there just a small restaurant who doesn't over order things. Yeah, right. By the way NO they weren't busy that night. So we relaxing, winding down and then the kicker.

This crazy beatch and her fellow server start packing up the tables and chairs around us! Don't mind us we only spent $250 with you and yes tipped accordingly (but you server already know that as it was the only time you were attentive to us was to swing by immediately after we signed to get your tip) Packing up the frickin' tables and chairs. IT'S 10PM. Not midnight, not even 11pm. If the pregnant woman is still going strong it's entirely too early for you to start packing it in.

I bid you adieu, trendy not to be open much longer restaurant, as I'll be spending the next 2 trimesters eating my own mediocre cooking at home.

Pad Thai and a GUT?!?!

Yeppers that's right a GUT! I finally felt non-queasy enough to venture out for some good ole all American Thai food with my girlfriend, Amanda. Yes, that's her name. No, I'm a 3rd person talker...although at this point she's one of the few people who can tolerate being around me and incredibly foul mouth.

Anywho, I arrive at my favorite midtown eatery ready to do some damage and when I get a text from Amanda. She arrived a moment before me and had already feasted her eyes on our uninvited dining companion for the day. A gut and some of a butt!

I get that everyone has to eat including your newborn but really breastfeeding at the table?!?! I know there's some women out there who are gonna get all bent of shape at me b/c it's "a beautiful, natural experience" but it should also be a PRIVATE experience. I have big ole (getting bigger by the day) boobs but in no way shape or form do I feel I have the right to plop them out in a public restaurant. The poor girls who had met their new mommy friend for lunch seemed to be handling it well by staring anywhere else except at the small child attached to their friend's chest. Your gut may be pretty to you (seriously with the low rise jeans) but honey come on. The bathroom in that restaurant is plenty big enough for you and your little man while he eats. Also, did you not know he'd be needing a meal???? Could you not plan your lunch oh I don't know around his!? Trust me when I say your girlfriends would've preferred going earlier or later than having to watch that.

So, that was a huge nauseating (as if I needed it) distraction. Besides that, Amanda and I plowed through the meal while chatting and texting our real inner thoughts to each other and the pad thai was a dang treat...the indigestion and gas (yep that's a new unpleasant surprise) that followed not so much!

Exhausted, irritated..short fuse w/no tolerance for idiocracy

Where to begin???? Still flippin' exhausted and I've doing nothing to be so dang tired. While trying to open a damn package of Saltines (do they have to be sealed with some sort of extra adhesive glue) I drove my dang car into one of the brick columns at the end of the driveway. God love, my husband he's outside trying to bump it the other way so at least it's straight.

I have never brushed my teeth so many times in one day in my life (and I had braces for YEARS). Why did no one tell me swampy nasty sticky gooey holy cow who died in there mouth was a common side effect of pregnancy?

Who's the asshole that's been punching me in the chest when I'm sleepy or maybe I'm doing a lot push ups in my dreams...either way my breasts are on fire. I hate standing in the shower as the water feels like little thumb tacks coming at my poor unprepared boobies in all different directions.

I know I'm not supposed to start showing until later but my stomach is a HUGE, swollen, giggly hot mess. Some child (ok she's probably in her 20's) said how cute you have a baby bump. Beatch with the 6 six pack abs this aint' no bump it's a gut and it's anything but cute!

I decided to purchase some bio oil for fear of the upcoming stretchmarks and am slathered in it morning noon and night...unfortunately I'm also using a self tanner and think the two mixing together have created a rash on my ass. JUST great an ever expanding ass that is now splotchy, stretched out and a weird shade of orange.

I believe I mentioned before that I'm psychotic. It's COMPLETEY OUT OF CONTROL. I've given up alcohol, caffeine and my LEXAPRO. Thank gawd we don't own a gun. I laugh, cry sometimes at the same time and DON'T CUT ME OFF!

If Michael leaves I do hope he'll return for the birth.

Be back I have to go to the bathroom or maybe just have horribly painful gas. YEAH nobody mentioned that EITHER!

WTF?!? TMI!

So, now that I've told some folks about my zygote in the oven it's quite shocking the crazy ass shit that will come out of some friends, family and people I hardly know mouths. If you knew me before the fertilization you're aware that for a very long time I was not a fan of having children or other peoples children for that matter. So when you ask in your mocking tone "did you change your mind??" Yes, ass clown apparently I did otherwise why would I have gone off the pill, started taking these damn prenatal (nasty burp reaction) vitamins, have unprotected sex with my husband and then announced to you that I'm with child?!?! That doesn't mean however that I am now going to ooh and ahh over your screaming snotty kid at lunch. Still don't like them. But am pretty excited about raising my own little snotty nosed kid.

Unsolicited advice. In general not really welcome or wanted. I get that all the mothers out there have sweet little nuggets of wisdom to share....but really I'm like a second pregnant! Can you give me a minute before you tell me any of the following.
Things I don't need to hear yet.
Scrub your nipples with a toothbrush so you can breast feed better.
DON'T get your tubes tied. EVERYone I know has regretted it.
It's funny your water breaking is like peeing for a really long time.
With my epidural I couldn't move my legs, had a migraine for weeks after, lapsed in and out of consciousness.
I was ripped all the way to my rectum. My rectum!
I thought I wanted kids. I was wrong. So, wrong.
Your vagina will never look the same.

Whew.
Oh gawd here comes the saliva...where are my ginger candies???? Those damn candies are the best advice I've gotten so far!

HOLY pregnant!

So, if there was any doubt whether I was pregnant or not I think laying on my couch unable to keep my eyes open while shoveling in Saltines and sobbing because Phil Mickelson won the Masters and his wife and mother have breast cancer pretty much confirms it for me.

HOLY crap I'm pregnant. Unbefreakinlievable. Ok so we weren't preventing but who knew those birth control pills really have been working all those years! That tiny little pill is pretty accurate if I do say so myself. Also, who knew one of the few qualities I got from my mother, not her long pretty legs, big beautiful blues but her fertile valley within!

I'm going to blog about this for several reasons none of which are that anyone is gonna read this crazy thing. But...
1- pretty sure my hubby is sick and tired of me turning sideways and saying look I'm HUGE, I'm frickin HUGE. Apparently I'm not supposed to be showing at 7 weeks but I refuse to admit that my swollen body is "what you always look like, honey"!
2- I said I would NEVER do this so I'm needing to get some of this straight. I always felt like women were pretty honest with what happens during pregnancy, BULLSHIT! I'm going to get all this off my ever expanding and super super sensitive chest. It may not be pretty but I can't keep it in any longer
3- I'm hoping that at some point this is going to giddy and joyous. Maybe I can share that when/if it happens.

If you're reading this and don't like it then don't come back. I'm pregnant, hormonal, and salivating like a bulldog on a Savannah August afternoon so I don't really need/want your feedback.

If you like that's great. I'm glad...oh crap gotta pee.
Be back later...

Open House action...what really happens

It's Superbowl Sunday and here I sit in someone else's home. No I'm not super early for a Superbowl party, I'm hosting an open house. At this point I have eaten a sushi roll, read the paper (especially the property transfers to see who bought/sold that I knew or was working with), had 2 2-bite brownies, rearranged the flyers 2 different ways , checked out facebook, the MLS, and my other email accounts PLUS walked around the house several times. One hour down one more to go. I placed obnoxiously bright yellow OPEN HOUSE directional signs all over the neighborhood, ran an ad in the local paper and placed ads in realtor.com and every other website known to man. Yet here I sit. Alone. Painfully alone. I don't know what is worse not doing an open house and having the sellers think you're lazy or doing one and having no one show up. I think I'm gonna go out and invite the neighbors over at least then I won't be alone with the those dang brownies. Ooh there's a bird sitting on the fence post out front. He looks perfect there I hope he stays until more people come...never mind random dog just scared him off.

I often wonder if my sellers would rather be at home then out driving around crammed in their car with the kids and let's not forget the 2 dogs. One is a very big dog who looked none too pleased when they were pulling out the driveway.

Sidebar, their clothes washer sounds like it's about to take off. ooh the bird is back. Guess I'll go watch him. Maybe he's a first time home buyer and wants to come in. Do birds like 2-bite brownies? I'll check it out!