Bolt from the blue

One of those days where I can't decide whether I love or hate Facebook. Last night I was screwing around online and logged in for what I had planned to be a second. Skimmed the latest status updates and saw one from long-lost childhood best friend about not being sure if she was craving popsicles because of the heat or the baby. Proceeded to spend a good 20 minutes prowling her page to ascertain whether she was actually pregnant (she is) and who the father is. Then spent an hour on the phone with my mom because I needed to share the news with someone and M. Defarge (who would not have been properly interested anyway) wasn't home. Then spent a good half an hour in bed mulling over this development, rehashing our last meeting and wondering about the proper etiquette for congratulating someone on a major life event when your only contact in the last 6 years was a random encounter in a shopping mall and a friend request on Facebook (hers; I accepted but did not make any additional overtures). My mom says post congrats; M. Defarge says let it go.

Total: Almost 2 hours of my life spent on a piece of news that I would not normally have learned, about a person who is no longer in my life. Considering the size of my to-do list right now, I'm not sure this was a good use of my time.

[On a semi-related but totally entertaining note, my mom ran into her mom at the grocery store earlier this year and learned that she was dating a person who had been (not sure how recently) struck by lightning. Assume this is the babydaddy, but could not find this information on his Facebook profile. Found it vastly amusing nonetheless.]

Call it a milestone

First time my pregnant self frightened a bystander.

Today after my doctor's appointment I was killing time at Macy's and noticed I'd missed a phone call. I didn't have service in the store, so I stepped out onto State Street to listen to the message. While I was on the phone, a guy came and stood right next to me. I assumed he was going to ask for money when he said, "Excuse me," so I probably didn't give him a particularly nice look. Then he said, "Did that baby just move?" (pointing to me) "Because I just saw something move."

I hadn't noticed it, but he was probably right, so I said, "Yeah, she does that," and we left it at that. But the poor man looked terrified. I guess that's why all of the clothes at the maternity stores look like tents--to keep us from frightening the locals.