(no subject)

[rivka]

saoba and I went to see Bride and Prejudice, which I absolutely adored. It's an extraordinarily silly Bollywood rendition of Pride and Prejudice - every ten minutes or so the story grinds to a halt for an elaborately costumed and choreographed musical number. I was disposed to like it from the beginning, but from the moment the troupe of Indian transvestites showed up to waggle their hips at a young bride-to-be, I was lost. I stayed lost right up through the triumphant conclusion with the painted elephants. For frivolous eye candy - which was exactly what I was in the mood for today - Bride and Prejudice can't be beat.

This evening, as we settled down to watch the pregame show (Opening Day!!!), I started having contractions. Every seven minutes. For more than an hour. "If it goes on like this until nine, I'll call the midwife," I told saoba, who allowed as how that was a sensible plan. At eight-thirty, the contractions stopped. At least this time wasn't like Friday night, when the hour's worth of every-seven-minutes contractions was painful enough - and unresponsive enough to attempts to stop them, such as a half-glass of wine and a warm bath - that curiousangel ran around putting our toothbrushes and things into the hospital bag.

I begin to doubt that I will ever have this baby.

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[writingortyping.livejournal.com]

I was two weeks late and my mother tells me that this was due to my insistence on making sure my name was written on the walls.

Perhaps the wee one is of the same inclination...