Foiled by Meat (And Other Sad Tales)

So, the weekend started off pretty good. The weather was beautiful, so after going for coffee, Kev and I went for a walk at the lake. We saw lots of good birds and dogs. Saturday night, I hung out with my brother while Kev went to soccer. Sunday, I washed and put away all the Peanut's clothes, and started trying to organize our new baby accessories. Then, it was time for dinner, so we decided to grill out since the weather was just right for grillin'. I went to the store to get some meat while Kev got the charcoal going. When I got back and started making the burgers, Kev said, "Uh...That is some pretty lean lookin' meat." I said it was 98%. How was I to know you are supposed to grill a fattier ground beef burger? I added some flavorings to the meat and made the patties anyway, and they proceded to fall to pieces on the grill. I was defeated. Kev managed to save some of the meat somehow, and so we ate the salvaged burgers, on English muffins because I forgot the buns at the store. I was forlorn. About 5 minutes into the "meal," Kev said, "Well, the ketchup is good." This at least made me laugh. It was perhaps the worst hamburger I have ever had.

Yesterday was better because I went to see the GREAT Van Morrison, and he did not disappoint me as I was concerned he might. He sounded great, he looked great, and he was backed by a fantastic band. I loved every minute of it, in spite of the over-cologned gentleman in the Hawaiian shirt next to me who kept checking his cell phone and singing the wrong words loudly along with Van. The show began at exactly 7:30 and was over by nine...perfect for people like me who can't stay awake late. Problem was, it took us 45 minutes to get out of the ridiculous parking lot at the Nokia Theater, but I was still home by a little after ten. Early for a rock show.

Today, however, has not started well. I was at the bank asking about home equity and explaining to the pimple-y bank dude about adding a room to the house because we're having a baby. He was making small talk as he led me to his desk, and he said, "So, you're just now...uh, I mean is this your first baby?" Now, I didn't just fall off the turnip truck. I know he was expressing surprise that someone so old was just now having a kid. Stupid bank dude. He started telling me about the two kids he already has, and I was smiling, but I have to admit I was thinking mean thoughts on the inside. Then I went to the grocery store, where the nice cashier asked how my pregnancy was going. She asked if it was my first, and when I said yes, she said, "REALLY? " as if this was the most shocking thing she had heard all week. This all after finding out last week that apparently there has been discussion between people in my family behind my back regarding my need to start using anti-aging facial products. OK, everbody. I have silver hairs. I have some very fine lines under my eyes (from smiling, mind you). I'm old. I get it. But I am 4 days away from my third trimester, and I am hanging on to my groove by a thread, so give me a break.

I have managed to not become completely defeated by asking myself, "What would Mister Rogers say?" And he would say he likes me just the way I am. Thanks, Mister Rogers.