A few fun items from an absolutely perfect weekend in Indy (70s during the day, 50s at night).

Saturday afternoon, we were sitting on the deck admiring the bird feeder I put in our trees. The neighbors behind us were having a birthday party for one of their kids, so there were 10-15 screamers running through the sprinklers. We heard some shuffling in the trees and looked that direction, expecting to see some birds digging in the leaves for insects, or a cat, or even a dog. Nope, our old friend the opossum was hauling ass towards us. I was sitting less than three feet from the edge of the deck yet he just put his head down and ducked underneath. There’s been no sign of the raccoon family, but the opossum is still taking residence in our yard. Bastard.

Walking around with a 34 week pregnant woman can be a lot of fun. First, she’s reached the point where women feel obligated to talk to her. We walked into a restaurant Saturday and immediately some girl behind the counter shouts, “You are sooooo cute! When are you due?”. Sunday, we went to Dairy Queen and the two girls working chatted S. up for at least five minutes about what we were having, if we had a name, etc. (Sidebar: After leaving Dairy Queen with an ice cream cake for my birthday, we talked about how this time next year, Little Girlfriend will love playing in the ice cream cake and smearing it in her hair, getting it in her ears, and even covering her toes with it.) At a furniture store, the male salespeople ignored us, but all the women came running over to grill us on baby details, not what we were shopping for. The best comment came from an older woman talked to S. for several minutes, then looked at me and asked, with cocked eyebrow, “Happy Father’s Day to you I presume?” If I thought faster, these are the people I’d like to mess with. “Oh no, she’s my wife but we’re not really sure who the dad is.” Or, “Well, the baby’s mine but we’re married to other people.” And so on.

However, what is most fun about walking around town with an eight month pregnant woman is the things she says. For example, we’re walking down the street, she stops dead in her tracks, leans back, looks down at her stomach, and says, “WHOOO! This girlfriend is doing something!” as she rubs her belly. What, I have no idea, but something. This happened at least 25 times over the weekend. Another fun thing she said was, “Holy lopsided! Make up your mind, sister!” This usually came when there was a butt (or head or back) sticking out of one side of her belly. Bottom line, the Little Girlfriend is still enjoying her last couple weeks of having room to move around, and has been as continuously active over the past few days as she has at anytime in the pregnancy.

I chose to run a 5K Saturday morning rather than go watch the practicing/qualifying for the Formula One race. So no stories about Euros dressed in Roman soldier costumes (as a picture in the paper showed). Maybe next year.