Without giving away too much of the factual details, I think Hubby is worried that I’m becoming more conservative than he is politically. I couldn’t disagree with him more, though I do understand his perspective. Due to a few outside factors, which I don’t talk about online, I’ve been exposed to the political perspectives of a completely different side of the national and international spectrum. At a job I used to have, I listened to world leaders discuss world-leader type stuff all the time. But the political positions of the organization for which I worked were a bit different from my own, as were the positions of the primary members of that organization.

Did this change me into a raging Republican? Not hardly.

But I think Hubby is worried that I’m getting more conservative. I say I’m not really, though he doesn’t agree. I think I’m getting more libertarian, and am personally less and less interested in having any part of any American government involved in any part of my life, from my taxes to my uterus. I’m becoming resolved that I cannot do anything to ease the cranio-rectal impaction of a great many people, from those who don’t wear their seatbelts to those who want to legislate what I can do with my vagina and my sex life.

The other night, Hubby and I were talking about socialized medicine and his position that America needs a national health plan to guarantee health coverage for every citizen. I can agree that every citizen needs health coverage, but I don’t think it should come from the government. The logistics of what could be offered and from where such coverage should originate is a detail I can’t even begin to work out, but my bottom line: should government the have absolutely anything to do with it?

This pregnancy isn’t much different from my pregnancy with Freebird except that I am much bigger, much sooner, and therefore experiencing all the little things that come with “popping out” so soon. I have heartburn and have to take antacids on a 12-hour schedule (not a big deal - done that before), and my hands and feet are swollen most evenings, which didn’t happen until much later with the Bird. Of course, I’m 25 weeks now, and I’m MUCH bigger than I was at 25 weeks with the Bird, so the swelling makes sense. I also feel a lot of movement. I think Freebird had a Yugo to tool around in, while this baby has, like, a Lincoln Continental, since I’m quite elastic in the accommodations.

But this morning, while looking for a pair of pants to wear, I grabbed a pair of late-pregnancy pants, the kind with the big soft cotton stretchy belly pocket in the front. Instead of a wide elastic waistband, these pants literally have a soft pocket that comes nearly up to my rib cage. I happen to love belly pocket pants, because having an elastic band around my middle really gets irritating after a few hours. But I didn’t expect to FIT into them so early! I was nowhere NEAR able to wear the pocket style at 25 weeks with Freebird. This time around? No problem. I am so comfy. I feel like a mammoth but I’m very comfy. 

In the mornings, I’m at my desk at an undisclosed location by 8am. Hubby is usually on his way to Freebird’s school with Freebird chattering in the backseat. Usually Hubby and I chat for those 15 minutes or so, because he and I are both really busy during the day and don’t chat much while we’re working.

Hubby’s bluetooth is part of his car - which is way cool - and the speakerphone is in the ceiling of the car. Sometimes Freebird talks to me, and sometimes he sits in the backseat and sings while Hubby and I talk.

This morning, Hubby got stuck in traffic at a school crossing where the population of at least four high schools appeared to be crossing the street en masse. Freebird usually gets pissed off if that happens because the traffic stands between him and his breakfast at school. O’s are not being eaten. Waffles remain unconsumed. The Bird is hungry and this makes for an angry, screechy Bird.

But today, Freebird sat in the back sat singing a song to Hubby and I. Only he does the tune (and carries the tune well, I think) but doesn’t know all the words.

Freebird: I ruhh doo! Ree ruh ree!
Sarah: What’s he singing?
Hubby: I have no idea.
Freebird: Ree ruh ree ruh ree ree ree.
...
Sarah: Oh, no.
Hubby: What?
Sarah: It’s the Barney song.
Hubby: Oh, no, it totally is!
Freebird: I ruv yoo! Yoo ruv ree!
Sarah & Hubby: We’re a happy family!!!

The indoctrination has begun. Now to teach him some Beatles. 

I am shocked that the editorial in this week’s Crain’s New York Business is all about when NYC will get a country radio station. We haven’t had one since 1996. Seriously. NO KIDDING. NO country station.

It is rather dumbfounding - especially since Carrie Underwood’s song is on all the other stations, as well as Shania Twain, Faith Hill, and Keith Urban. Granted they’ve done the most recent crossover songs, but still. Clearly there’s a market for it, as the editorial points out. Why no one will risk investing in a country station in a market that is clearly interested in country artists is beyond me.

Maybe this is my get-rich-quick opportunity - because you know there’s so much money in radio. I just have to break into radio and actually want to deal with the FCC. 

Last night Freebird woke up whimpering, and when Hubby got up to settle him down (Hubby at this point moves MUCH faster than I do, due to the fact that (a) he wakes up at the slightest noise and (b) he isn’t gestating) I realized everything was pitch black. Usually there’s dim light from the nightlight in Freebird’s room, from the cable box on top of our tv, from our clocks, from the streetlights - but it was pitch dark black. The power was out, due to the leftovers of Tropical Whatever It Was Barry, which is currently dumping Still More Rain on us. What is it with us and the rain events?

I’m sure Freebird was upset because he woke up in total darkness as opposed to the dim light of his nightlight, which enables him to have a party in his crib at 3pm, complete with pacifier tossing, book reading, wall pounding, and loud counting while jumping up and down. But he did go right back to sleep once Hubby soothed him.

Of course, Hubby and I couldn’t really do a thing about our inability to sleep after that. The lights were out. No power? What if we don’t hear our cell phones that are now conveniently located on the bedside tables? What if there’s no hot water in the morning? What if we’re both really late? And damn, without central A/C it’s really getting warm in here! All of that yielded a mess of tossing and turning, and this morning we’re both really groggy.

But when I explain that we’re tired because the power went out in the middle of the night - which should have made it easier for us to sleep - people look at me like I’m barmy.

I’m sorry to say that Rbelle’s quintessential downhome Southern recipe… it has been William-Sonoma-ized. Like a local craftsman whose art has been co-opted and copied by Pottery Barn, Williams Sonoma not only offers a recipe for Frogmore Stew in its newest catalog, but it offers, to go with the “traditional low-country” party food:

1. monogrammed beer glasses ($56 for four)

2. D’Artagnan andouille sausage ($32 for two 18” sausages)

3. Seafood Scissors to cut shrimp ($10)

4. Olive wood salt keeper ($49) unless you need the salt too, which is $8.50

5. Double handle bowls for serving the stew ($28 for a set of four)

6. Le Creuset Oval Oven for simmering. roasting or braising - so as to cook and serve the stew ($275 for a 9.5 quart oven, your choice of colors)

7. Le Creuset fry pan ($100) I guess for frying sausage or something.

Now, last time I heard that Frogmore stew was being cooked for mass consumption at Casa Belle, it involved a turkey fryer or two ($29 at our local wholesale club) a tank of propane for said fryer (your cost may vary) and a big ass supply of basic sausage, corn, potatoes, celery, onion, garlic, and shrimp (your cost may vary).

But I will bet my Yankee ass it didn’t cost a Williams-Sonoma-price of $550.00.

I bet my next issue of the catalog that makes you feel like an amateur in your own damn kitchen will feature a Williams-Sonoma recipe for Brooklyn-style pizza with a $900 pizza oven, or a $640 copper kettle for making your own Jersey-style salt water taffy (which, if you want some, is available online, or at the boardwalk down the shore).

A brief interruption for me in the news fast. Woo! In case you hadn’t heard, random putzass mofo douchebag (that’s his legal name) found out he had a strain of TB (Tuberculosis for $100, Mr. Trebek) that wasn’t treatable with the normal set of medications. Random putzass mofo douchebag, or “Mr. Douchebag” flies to Italy! On his honeymoon! Doesn’t tell his bride! Is asked by the CDC to stay the hell put so they can quarantine his exceptionally contagious self! Does not do so! Gets on a series of flights back to the US despite being asked not to! Circumvents Immigration and gets into the country despite his passport being flagged (three cheers for Homeland security!) that he is a health risk! Puts the lives of every other passenger and the crew on all those flights in terrible, terrible danger!

And what does Mr. Douchebag have to say for himself?

“I’m a very well-educated, successful, intelligent person,” he told the newspaper. “This is insane to me that I have an armed guard outside my door when I’ve cooperated with everything other than the whole solitary-confinement-in-Italy thing.”

Because this guy, who by the way is a plaintiff’s attorney (three cheers for improving the reputation of plaintiff’s attorneys!), is being held up as an example of the elitist, self-absorbed attitude that unfortunately afflicts many a privileged American, let me offer a translation that will clarify what he meant to say:

“I am a very very special person. Much more special than any of you, or any of the people on the planes I flew on as I dodged agencies who were trying to look after my health while simultaneously protecting the citizens of at least two or three countries. Did you get that? I am more special.

Therefore, as I bask in my specialness, I do not understand why I am being treated as a criminal, even though I put the lives of literally hundreds of people in danger with my excellent specialness.”

Seriously, the mind, it boggles. The security breach? The flaws in our immigration procedure? The rather large gaping hole in security that let Mr. Germy Douchebage endanger so many?

How come this bozo isn’t being brought up on charges of terrorism? Germ warfare? Being a douchebag?