Uh, yeah, sorry about leaving the whiny post at the top for so long… moving on….

The cat doesn’t have diabetes! This rocks. We are very happy to know that. Her test was more than two weeks ago, but I got sidetracked with the back and all that, and totally forgot that I hadn’t HEARD anything yet, so i called yesterday, and the vet left a VM saying she’s all good. Yay! Of course, after the tests she sort of backed off the crazy thirst/peeing combo, and is even acting downright frisky (well, okay, chasing imaginary flies on the way from sleeping in her chair to sleeping on the couch might not be ‘frisky’ in your world, but trust me. It is in hers.). It’s all good.

I have the diabetes info session next week, but have had zero instructions or restrictions placed on my diet or whatever at this point, so I’m assuming I’m not that serious (as it was, only the lst of four draws was ‘elevated’) and living as such. Which is why I made cookies last night while Dave got his slot car track running. Not a bad evening in our house, eh? Cookies, slotcars, and happy non-diabetic fat cats.

Weird realization: Hello, I have ELEVEN WEEKS LEFT. ELEVEN. That is so not anything. In fact, I will likely be a MOTHER when I watch the Survivor and Amazing Race finales this season. THAT IS FUCKED UP. I’ve never watched a reality show finale with something eating from me. THAT IS FUCKED. UP.  Also? WE HAVE SO MUCH TO DO. ANd then? I HAVE NO JOB. It will all work out. It will all work out. It will all work out.

I’m starting to work on my seminar topic, which is basically boiling down to internet addiction, I think. Ha! A HA HAHAHAHA! Yes. Well, see, my original seed ideas were swirling around the question of "are we more connected as a society with al these global connections, and/or are local communities affected by that?" I mean. I probably qulaify as an internet addict. I spend a LOT of time online. Granted, it’s my job, a major part of my chosen career, and I spend hours a day in a computer lab with nothing else to do. I guess I could work on homework, but you know what I mean. I also have made all these great friends, real live FRIENDS, over the last several years by way of Digs, my journal, IM/ADL, whatever. I would bet that there are more people participating in my Digs (online) shower than will be at my IRL shower. See? I just said "IRL shower." Most people just have A Shower. I have the online one and the real one.

When I was in junior high, I signed up for a penpal through Teen magazine, and got one from Missouri. We wrote HUGE letters to each other, from seventh grade until we graduated, and then after, these 12-20 page long missives about boys and school and our families and whatever. Really, it was like a journal. She came here to visit before we went into 9th grade, I went there before 10th? 11th? and she came here for my high school graduation. It was the last time I saw her in person.  After 6 years of being each other’s diary, we just.. grew apart. She was southern Baptist, I was uh, yankee Stoner. It just got weird. We contacted each other a few times in the last ten years, she wrote me a letter telling me her biggest secret, because she had to tell someone and know that it was okay to do what the godfearing Missourians would tell her was murder, and I really wonder who else knows about that, still. I wrote her a few times as I tried to figure stuff out, but in the end, that was that. She’s married, lives in South Florida now with her husband and two little boys (I google her and get her sorority alumni updates, which is how I know all that), and I hope, is very happy. I still have all her letters in a box at my parents house, because it feels weird to throw them out. I think about sorting through them, organizing them, and finding her address and mailing them to her because really, it was a 6 year diary. Iwonder where mine are.

I tell that story, because it really was the precursor to my fondness for the internet. It didn’t exist in 1987, at all, but to have that outlet, that was really important. My online journal over the years has been the subsititute, really. I used to write to K in history class, or math, or other times I was supposed to be doing something else, and now, here I am, at 30, doing the same thing…  Being used to that distant, text-based friendship is just how I am. I have GREAT friends in real life, I do. Andy and Josh brought me a cheeseburger in BED when I couldn’t move. Amy will be there when I have the widget. I have great friends in real life, and some of those I met because of the internet.

Anyway. Yeah. Internet addiction, affect on community connectedness, etc. that kind of stuff. And on that note, I’m trying to think what would be easier — a mailing list for Dave to send out the news once the widget arrives, or training him in TypePad (admittedly, NOT HARD and he IS SMART), or both. GEEEEEK.

Also, been shooting the tournaments. It’s a bad year for WaCo basketball teams, as I’m down to just two that made it to the semifinals. The girls team from my alma mater, and the boys team from our rival school. Greeeeaatt. I had to call Amy and shriek into the phone "OH MY GOD, WE"RE OLD!" when I relayed the sad, sad fact that our school’s "number one fan" is now sitting in the OLD PEOPLE SEATS and not the bleachers, didn’t ONCE do the bellowing "GOOOOOOO OUUUUURRSCHHHHOOOOLLL", and even -gasp! — wasn’t wearing PURPLE. How did that happen? We’re old!

Oh, one baby related thing: I am one that would never, ever, ever ask someone if they were pregnant, comment on it, anything, unless I had been told they were pregnant, or the person was in labor and I could see the head crowning.  I’ve heard of too many people that get burned in that scenario, are mortified, and warn everyone else to bite their tongues when they see a big belly. But, as it turns out, not only do I not ASK, I also don’t TELL. One of my undergrad profs, I see her all the time coming and going, but I’m in my giant blue coat, so, whatever. Giant coat. Last week, though, on the day I took the belly shot, actually, she walked by me at the mailboxes, where I was NOT in a a giant blue coat. She did the usual, beam, "Hi, Gretchen! How are you!" and then was suddenly distracted by the mass that is the widget living inside of me… but she didn’t say anything, just looked back at me, maybe waiting for me to say something, and I just… smiled. What was i supposed to say? (I was really tempted to be all "OH, hey, there’s coffee cake by Becky’s desk" and walk off, but I didn’t.)  I figure she’ll ask around (I would, anyway, just feel out some contacts and say "hey, is Gretchen pregnant?" and then the next time I saw her, say "COngratulations! I hear you’re expecting.")  But, I don’t say anything. It’s weird — I don’t hide the belly, at all — i kind of like how the shirts I’m wearing accentuate it, really… the pants just suck because they are always drooping — but I also don’t get alll "BBBAAAAAYYYBBBEEEEEE" on anyone who is within 3 feet. Just, hmm. Weird.