Known Johnson

June 26, 2005

Above the weather

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tom @ 10:36 pm

It seems like only yesterday I was muttering something about how it seemed like weekends don’t exist anymore. Well, add this “weekend” to the previous post . . . it’s the same story.

As I rip my entire Thought Industry collection to Itunes for my Ipod, I’ve got a few minutes to detail the past 5 or so days of happenings. Lots of stuff going on, so much I haven’t the energy to detail it all (and, knowing me and how much I like to go on and on and on, that’s saying a lot) so I’ll resort to a handy list:

  • Managed to both find a disease and have it take over my body for the better part of the week. It may have only been a cold, but it was an unpleasant one, complete with a couple of near-sleepless nights, lots of fiery sore throats, coughing fits, runny nose fits, etc. Suffice it to say that it was a pretty typical summer cold. Winter colds make sense. Summer colds? They suck.
  • Even be-colded, I forced myself to make progress on The Room Of The Unknown Johnson, and I can proudly and very happily say that it really is very, very near completion. I thought of posting pics of the near-complete status, but I figured I might as well wait a week until it really is basically complete. It’s actually not out of a sense of drama but simply because I’m lazy and tired and don’t feel like messing with resizing photos, etc.
  • Had our second Babies R Us registry festival last night during which we happily found out that the glider-rocker that we picked up on sale at Kmart for $79 was just about exactly as nice as the ones BRU priced at three to four times as much. Score!
  • Dr. Foot has some work to do when I meet with him this Wednesday for a follow-up. His orthotic shoe inserts worked in one sense – my arches didn’t feel as much pain – but they failed in another: I gained new pain elsewhere. In fact, after two busy days this weekend, I found that now my right ankle is especially sore and unreliable feeling. I can’t say there’s been a reduction of pain . . . just a “spreading around” of it. I don’t think that counts as a victory.
  • Yesterday was the third birth/labor class, which contained the much-looked-forward-to hospital tour. After we watched a series of horrible movies, we took a break, then went and saw where all the magic happens. It was actually very helpful – it’s still a hospital for sure, but the parts of it we spend the most time in are much cozier and homey than you might expect. The labor/delivery/recovery room was quite big with a large and flexible transformer of a bed. Some of the walls were a calming shade of hazy blue, upon which were some oak cabinets presumably hiding scary equipment. As our instructor said, we’d spend about two hours in that room following the birth, then we’d be moved across the way to our real room, where, by regulation, we begin a 48 hour stay in the hospital while Alissa recovers and we adjust to life with the Known Johnson. I was relieved to hear that – I knew we were supposed to get 48 hours at the hospital, but worried that it was 48 hours from the time Alissa checked in, which could be a short amount of resting-time after a long, difficult birth (God forbid!) It’s a relief to know that we have two very assisted days where we’ll be helped with doing whatever it is that babies need done (everything!) before being shoved out the door and on our own.
  • But that day can’t come soon enough, as scary as it is. The Unknown Johnson was kicking and/or hitting up a storm tonight, and the thought hit me all of a sudden how fun it will be to actually see this tiny person cavorting out in the open. There’s also fun in the mystery of trying to determine what is what – is that an arm? a leg? a butt? – but, of course, that’s nothing compared to what’s about to happen to our lives two months from now.
  • Ba-dink: Itunes signals that the last disc is ripped, which means it’s time to go to bed, which will be the first identifiably post-sick night of sleep I’ve had since Wednesday. I’m kind of looking forward to that . . .

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