Gesundheit

Blerg. Today was not a good day at work. Remember the oral argument I had a few weeks back? The court issued its decision this morning and I lost. This one stings because I really, truly, cared about the issues I raised. This is not the first time I've lost a case, but in the past I've always been able to nurse the wound with a big beautiful glass of red zinfandel. I don't miss drinking all that much, but today I really really miss red wine and its therapeutic properties. The idea of a club soda + fruit juice stand-in is all the more depressing.

So, let's forget about today and talk about the Tatermoon. Charleston was fabulous. It was a little cold and a little wet and we were a little underdressed. But that's my only complaint. We ate a tremendous amount of delicious southern food. (Oh, the cornbread. Thank God for the cornbread. And the sweet tea; if only it was decaffeinated.) The mother-to-be spa treatments were dreamy. Though I enjoyed laying on my stomach less than I expected. They had a large pillow that is supposed to cradle the bump. But it felt like laying in a foam mold which was made by casting some other pregnant lady's body. I've heard rumors of massage tables with elastic middle panels. I think that would be more my style. My absolute favorite part was the facial. My skin has felt somewhat gross during pregnancy, and it needed a good cleaning out. I think the facial brought out that pregnancy glow that everyone talks about but I'd yet to see. I glow! I glow!

I managed to do a lot of walking with only a few episodes of shortness of breath. And I learned that I am awesome at dancing while pregnant. I don't have the stamina to dance quickly, so I coordinate my moves with every fourth beat or so. Brad says I'm slow dancing to upbeat music, but I'm pretty sure that's the rage. Or will be soon.

The biggest surprise of the weekend was learning that one of Brad's groomsmen, one of his oldest friends, was also in Charleston. Nick was interviewing for his residency, and we got to spend Saturday afternoon/evening and Sunday morning with him. Nick had spent a month in Charleston during med school, so he showed us around and took us to a couple restaurants that were off the beaten path. One served me a carrot curry soup that blew my mind. Love Nick.

If you are anything like friends with whom I've already shared this part of the story, you may be wondering how hanging out with Nick impacted the romance of the weekend. How can I put this delicately? Babymoon does not equal honeymoon on the romance scale. Especially when one is a few days shy of the six-month mark. There's definitely romance, but there's more room for good friends and good food and good sleep. We'll leave it at that.

Saturday night we took a tour of the haunted jail. I'm a big fan of ghost tours (see, e.g., my bachelorette party). The jail tour had the best reviews online, so we gave it a shot. While we were waiting for the tour to begin, I remembered that pregnant women are not supposed to go to haunted houses. Unfair, but possibly a rule with a reason. Thankfully, the haunted jail tour was not cause for concern. It was amusing, but far from scary. Also, it didn't hurt that we met the author of a book which was published earlier this year on the history of the jail. He was doing a book signing in our hotel on Friday night, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to bring home an autographed, ghost-themed souvenir. Before the tour I read the chapter rejecting most of the notorious and horrific stories associated with the jail. So the tour guide's scare tactics didn't work on yours truly. I kept whispering "that's not true" to Brad and Nick. They loved having me there.

Sunday night we went out for a fancy pants dinner at Slightly North of Broad. It was amazing. Off the top of her head, the waitress knew which of their cheeses were pasteurized. I got to eat some blue cheese with my salad! I missed blue cheese. It is awesome with caramelized pear, which was also in my salad. Mmmm. Also, I've been craving veggies lately, and they served me an overflowing vegetable plate for my main course (with a side of cheesy grits). I highly recommend S.N.O.B.

While I'm on the subject of the Sunday night dinner, I need to get something off my chest. Brad offered to keep this a secret, but I think it's better to just put it out there. While I was getting ready, I sneezed. And when I sneezed, I peed a little. I couldn't believe it. Brad laughed and laughed. I laughed too, and said a little prayer of thanks that I had yet to put on my tights. But now, every time I have to sneeze, I am afraid. Oh please, oh please, don't let my bladder control go as my belly expands.

But the peeing didn't stop me from getting cute. I wore the dress that my sister brought at Thanksgiving, and I wore it with heels! Here's the picture we sent to Caty as proof that I didn't wear the dress with Danskos:



Cute, right? So cute you already forgot that I peed myself? Rats.