we want a picture, not a belly itcher!

Earlier this year I was at a Sox game, and I asked Brad how "we want a pitcher, not a belly itcher" ever made sense as a chant. It's bothered me for years.

Robin: "What the heck tate is a belly itcher?"
Brad: "It's a rhyme. You're overthinking it."
Robin: "But how is a belly itcher ever an option at a baseball game? It's illogical."
Brad: "Shhh. Watch the game."

Before you start thinking Brad always has the right idea, we were sitting in the Jim Beam box for this particular game. Fancy pants. When we walked in, the partner who invited us told Brad he could order anything he wanted from the bar. Brad sauntered up and ordered a Jack and Coke. "Anything but that."

Anyhoo. I've since figured out that a belly itcher is a pregnant woman. The belly grows and it itches. And a pitcher would probably be preferable to a pregnant lady in a baseball game situation. Puzzle solved!

On to the pictures, as promised! Here are the first official belly shots. Also, the first official shots of the new hair. Two-for-one.





So, it doesn't look like much. But I switched my closets today -- spring/summer into the guest bedroom and fall/winter into our bedroom. Made the mistake of trying on my fall/winter bottoms, and found a grand total of two items that would zip and clasp (and I would not describe either as flattering, just slightly less obscene). I had hoped to avoid the maternity sections for a few more weeks, but if I want to wear jeans or cords anytime soon, it's necessary. Mag Mile Gap, here I come.

To lessen the blow, we pulled out the Halloween decorations. Our house is covered in pumpkins, as it should be. What pants problem?