Kim’s baby


I was unfaithful to my hairdresser today.  Unfortunately, my hairdresser is also one of my best friends.  We’ve had our share of trouble getting my blonde just right, and I finally couldn’t take it anymore.  The back-breaker was when I lifted the top section of hair to blow dry the bottom and noticed striping.  That’s just not okay.  I’m very picky about my hair, and I can’t take that kind of screwed up shit.  If she sees me before I leave town again, I’m going to say D made me do it before the competition because my roots were so bad.

Which leads me to the competition.  We did the Edward G. Picken Pro-Am in Reston, Virginia.  Leading up to it, I kept hearing about how the judges were super-tough and we probably wouldn’t do well since we come from somewhere besides D.C. and aren’t used to their standards and it was going to be a bloodbath for us, blah blah blah.  Nothing like confidence-boosting.  D’s other adult that was going and I were in tears every day, ready to quit the whole sport since we apparently suck and shouldn’t be allowed on the ice with these magical East Coast skaters and all that crap.  Oh, also there would be eleventy billion of them, so we might as well get used to the fact that we were going to come in eleventy billionth.  I was in the car with D when he was on speakerphone with a former student who was talking about all this and asking if he had prepared us for this massacre.  Fucking awesome.  She’s so not my favorite right now.

So that’s the mindset I went to Virginia with.  Oh, and on top of that, the other adult D was taking has tested a level above me but since she hasn’t completed the level, she was allowed to compete at my level as well as hers.  So I figured she would come in second to last and I would be dead last.  When we got there, we found out there were only four of us competing at our level, but that they had had to combine age divisions to get that many.  So we were competing against younger people on top of everything else, but at least there weren’t very many people.  But still, as D would say, fuck me in the gonads.  Needless to say, I was rather unpleasant to be around.  I was going to come in fourth out of four and have some eighteen year old kick my ass.

We finally got to competition day, and I guess I was so resigned to losing that I was pretty relaxed during the practice session that morning.  D was pleasantly surprised by that – the relaxed part, not the resigned part.  When we got to the rink that afternoon for the actual competition, they were running behind schedule, so there was a lot of sitting around waiting.  Then I stood around.  Then I stretched for a bit.  Then I sat some more.  Then I said to fuck with it and put my skates on just for something to do.  Then I stood around some more.  Dude, that is a crazy maker!

Once our warm-up started, I got nervous.  Skating is a funny sport.  When you’re nervous, your knees don’t bend anymore, and if there’s one thing you need to skate, it’s knee-bend.  This always happens to me in test sessions, and then I really freak out and my legs shake.  It wasn’t as bad as my last test though.  I didn’t try to jump over the glass and escape the arena.  Anyway, I had to skate first, so I went straight from warm-up to performing.  I felt like my ChaCha was okay – there was stuff I’d have done differently if I’d been thinking straight, like put my head where it was supposed to be on the end pattern, but at least I wasn’t looking down.  For once.  My Fiesta Tango was pretty gross.  I screwed up the turn both times.  It was a nervous and scrapy turn.

I got to see the other skaters go, and at the end I felt like I had a decent chance for third place because the fourth girl was very very very nervous and it made her have giraffe legs and just overall she wasn’t very good (and now I’m going to hell).  I didn’t say anything to D about it and he didn’t say anything to me.  We went over the corrections (actually I told him what I wanted to fix, and he agreed), and then I changed into street clothes and went to Starbucks.  When I was in ballet, when you were done, you changed and left.  No big deal.

It’s apparently different in skating … while I was gone, I missed the scores going up.  It’s not like on TV where you sit in the little area (I REFUSE to call it “kiss and cry”.  That’s fucking absurd) and somebody announces them.  They print them out and post them on the wall.  I wasn’t even planning on looking at the scores – my original plan was to treat this like a recital and not worry about placement since it was my first competition and all that.  But since I thought I maybe had won third place, I went and checked.  D was on the ice with L and M getting ready for their stuff on Saturday, so I didn’t have anyone to help me read them.  It was very confusing since I skated first, and I kept showing up first, so I thought that that explained my name being up top on both dances.  The scores were done in ordinals, so you could see your placement from each judge.  That just confused me more.  Mine looked like this: 1 1 1 1 1 2 2 2 2 and 1 1 1 1 1 2 3 11.  I finally found a skater from Dallas to help me read the things, and she told me I won.  WTF???  And there was no-one to hug because they were all still on practice ice.  So I went to watch the rest of the day’s events.  When it was over, I found D.  He said, “Did you see the results?”  I said yes, and he said, “Here you go” and he handed me my medal.  I said Judge number 7 was clearly not a fan of mine.  Then we went back to the hotel and had sex.  I’m sure you wanted to know that!

Anyway, later on, he kept asking if I had called my parents, so I finally did.  My mom asked if there had been a medal ceremony.  Um, oops, yeah there had been, but I was at Starbucks.  I MISSED my damn medal ceremony!  It hadn’t even dawned on me that there had been one.  I was pretty appalled, but D said it’s no big deal at stuff like this – most people miss theirs.

So here’s how everyone else did:  In that same Pre-Bronze event, D’s other adult came in second.  She won her Bronze event, and she came in fourth out of 13 in the Open Willow Waltz event.  I was supposed to be in that too, but when I screwed up my knee, we pulled out.  Little M (she’s ten years old and has been dancing for just a couple of months, but she does do freestyle) came in fourth out of ten in her Pre-Bronze event and seventh out of eleven in her Bronze event which was really good because it was skating up a level for her and most of the girls in it should’ve been up a level or two.  D said that that age group gets really fucked up because girls won’t test until they find partners even if they are way beyond that level.  So we did pretty well.  D was happy with us.  It’s good for him too because it gets his name out there as a coach.

While I was there, the baby that my sister and brother-in-law are adopting was born.  The birth parents have signed the relinquishment papers and all that, so we’re in the waiting period with all the legal crap.  They should have the baby home by next Friday, but as Jason said, nothing has gone exactly as they’ve said it would, so who knows?  But they’re for sure getting her, so I’m an auntie now!  Yay!!!  Kim and Jason have been with the baby, and they met the birth parents and grandparents and all that.  The dad was having a little more trouble than the mom with the decision, but he said after he met Kim and Jason, he felt really good about it.  He was starting to scare everyone before that though.  My mom’s in Austin with them waiting out the waiting period.  They’re getting the nursery ready and all that.  I sent a box of clothes and diapers and other random baby stuff yesterday.  When Munchkin gets back from camp (he leaves Monday), we’ll go down there too.  The baby should be there by then for sure!

P.S. I’m having trouble with the ding-dang spell checker again.  Sorry for my oopses!

My sister lost her baby to Trisomy 13.

I slept in this morning and haven’t really done anything yet.  It’s wonderful!  I’ve been reading TV show recaps for Battlestar Galactica and Heroes over on the TV Guide website, reading blogs, and checking the weather forecast.  So I have quite literally done nothing this morning.  That will change pretty soon as I have to work out and clean and things like that.  At some point, I really need to call the maids on my list as well as the gutter people.  I’ll worry about that later though.

I have proof that I live in the country (Rich says we live in the suburbs, not the country).  Aside from the fact that there are like ten ranches across the street from where I live, there was a sign on the Feed Store (there’s a big clue!) that said, “It’s time for corn gluten!”.  What does that mean?  Being a city girl, I don’t know, but apparently it means something to people around here.  Hang on, I’m going to google it.  Okay, apparently it’s used to get rid of weeds.  You put it on your lawn, and it takes care of pesky weeds.  Hunh.  That doesn’t sound very ranch-y to me.  It actually sounds kind of Martha Stewart-y.  Well.  Maybe I don’t live in the country.

I went to Anjelica’s baby shower on Sunday.  My sister was one of the hostesses, and being nine weeks pregnant, she is apparently unable to pick up anything that weighs more than her water bottle.  My mom said that soon she’d have to hire someone to carry that water bottle.  It’s ridiculous.  I really get annoyed by people who act like pregnancy is an illness.  You can pick up a Pyrex pan with stuffed mushrooms in it while pregnant!  She also is in the habit of blaming the baby for bodily functions.  It’s like now that she’s pregnant, she can burp and fart in public and it’s okay because the baby makes her do it.  Uh, no, that is NOT okay.  I kind of knew she’d be like this because she is very dramatic about everything, so why would pregnancy be any different?

Wee Baby Frueh

This is the first picture of my sister’s baby.  The dark circle is the amneotic sac.  Inside the circle on the left side, there is a little worm looking thing.  That’s the 7.3 mm baby (impossibly small!).  And then next to the baby, there is a little bubble which she says is called a yolk sac.  I think I’m done with eggs!  Oh, and to be clear, she is the one who calls the baby a worm.  Originally, it was a bean which was great because we could call it Mr. Bean.  I guess it’s Wormy now.  If you’re curious, Frueh is pronounced “free”.