When I picked up the magazines for dave’s birthday, I grabbed  a book for myself.  I decided to NOT read anything having to do with pregnancy or parenthood, or anything like that — I just wanted a page-turner.  My page-turner choices are usually forensic investigation stories, and I’d already read the newest Patricia Cornwell paperback on our vacation.  Tess Gerritsen had a new one out though, and the back cover sounded promising, and IMPORTANT TO NOTE, mentioned nothing about pregnancy or parenthood. Sounded like a straight up murder mystery gettin’ solved by an ME deal.

Well.

I don’t know HOW THE HELL they didn’t mention the pregnancy aspect of this book on the back cover. Amazon’s editorial review even starts out: "Pregnant women play key roles. . . . ."  FIrst! Fucking! Sentence!

I mean, it was a great novel, but oh, the irony of my steely reserve to buy a NON-pink-fucking-book, and get the pregnant detective investigating the past murders of pregnant women while in present day, a pregnant woman is buried alive in the woods, you know, all pregnant and shit. The kicker would be if this IS the month, you could add "being read by a pregnant woman."

ANother week to go. Sleepier, and a little touchy emotionally, ie: woke up from a nap and burst into tears at an Oprah I’d already seen before, but WHATEVER. We’ll see.