Still contracting, though nowhere near as much as Thursday, Friday or Saturday. At 37 weeks and 2 days, it's back to the doctor tomorrow who might have a better indication if we're looking at a baby delivery later this week or our long-expected early Christmas gift.
Chicago got hit with its first real snow last night. Only about an inch and a half, but it's sticking this time, covering the outside world in a blanket of lovely white. And even though it's really freezing outside, the doggies can't seem to get enough of it (while I stay holed up in the warm, condescending every couple of hours to let them out and then making them come back in so their paws don't freeze!).
I wish I could say that I did something interesting and/or ambitious today, but the reality is that finishing packing my hospital bag was about as much as I could muster (that and a little general tidying).
Tonight Craze and I put our feet up and watched the Detroit Red Wings beat a California hockey team with the lamest name ever. . .the Ducks. The Ducks?!?!?
I'm sorry Ducks fans, but that name does not inspire fear nor intimidation. Nor does it bring to mind skillful creatures well-versed in tricky ice maneuvers. I think of cute white duckies getting fed day-old bread in the park. . .or that swanky hotel in the South somewhere where well-mannered ducks take the elevator to the lobby fountain each day. Or Donald.
I certainly don't think of tough athletes with possibly one or more missing teeth, a penchant for cross-checking and a history of hard on-the-road living and more STDs than I could possibly ever imagine.
Ducks, indeed.
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