Two bits of goodness today: first, the dreaded Glucose Tolerance Test is over, and wasn't nearly so bad as my previous run-in; second, we got our car!!!!!!
My first GTT, back in the Baltics, was a miserable, several-hour ordeal which involved me puking up a bunch of the stuff I'd been attempting to choke down. Seriously, when I gagged on the liquid form, they just gave me the bag of powder to eat. It felt like half a kilo. I looked like Al Pacino's stunt double from Scarface.
This time around, they gave me what looked like a small pop bottle, said I had five minutes to drink it, and they'd draw my blood in an hour. So I glugged down this stuff, which had the look and feel of slightly flat complimentary airline orange soda, and waited. I know, sounds kind of harmless, but imagine chugging a 12-oz bottle of Jolt cola on an empty stomach, and then not being allowed to eat or drink anything else but water for the next 60 minutes.
So I was a bit nauseated, and bored, and slightly light-headed, but on the whole I prefer the Island version of this test.
The car! The car! We got our car today. It's a Mazda 3 hatchback and it's a shade of blue that doesn't quite match what we expected. But it runs, it has carseat latches (which many models sold here don't have, oddly enough), the A/C works, and it's ours. Yippee! No more driving the company car (and being paranoid about denting or scratching or failing to fully account for every meter driven). This weekend, we'll probably take it to the beach.

Today was my first visit to my new island OB/GYN. Baby's heartbeat is steady in the 140s, my weight is fine, and overall things look pretty good at 27 weeks. Deep sigh of relief.
The bad news is that next week I have to have a Glucose Tolerance Test. Longtime PS readers will recall (and the rest of you can look in up in the 2004 archives) that my first experience with one of these things, back in the Baltics, was less than pleasant. It was several hours long, involved attempting to ingest what felt like a kilo of pure glucose powder, and felt much like a sleep deprivation experiment conducted by refugees from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
My new OB, bless her heart, took it very well when I groaned about the prospect of another GTT. She also described the regimen I would face here: drink 50 g of glucose solution, then have a quick blood test after one hour. That's it. The contrast is tremendous: like the difference between visiting your pre-Renaissance barber and seeing Marcus Welby, MD. So I'm still not thrilled about having this test, but at least I'm dreading it a lot less.

It Came To Me...My One, My Only...My Preciousssss. Stuff has arrived! Not all of it, but some of it. We are officially no longer living out of suitcases. And I have my new toy back in my hands, at last at last at last. I've been using my husband's work computer sporadically; however, that means I need to find a time when he's not using it (and with fantasy baseball in full swing and fantasy football just around the corner, good luck with that). What also happens is that he'll walk away from it but I won't notice or get to it in time before it locks up. But this is no longer a problem because this little baby is mine mine mine mine mine.
Of course, I still have to find time. Tonight is my husband's bridge night. Far from begrudging him this Boys Night Out, I am happy that he has a chance to get out twice a week and socialize (to the extent that semi-pro bridge players have social skills...) since he's working from home five days a week. All work and no play -- and Red Sox losing to the Yankees 12-4 this afternoon -- makes Jack a dull and grumpy boy.
So after dropping him off at the club, getting the child bathed, snacked, toothbrushed, read to and put to bed, doing the dinner dishes, sweeping up the dead roach in the sunroom, picking up toys, putting away laundry, scooping the catbox, doing two crossword puzzles, and booting up the laptop, I find myself getting to Blogger somewhere after 10:30. My goal these days is to be under the covers by then. Rats.
Well, if I'm using the laptop in bed, I can technically meet my goal... Besides, tomorrow I can sleep in a little - assuming Gigi decides to sleep through the night, which she's had trouble with lately. There are a few teeth still fighting their way out, and when she's teething, she gets clingy. Seriously, her new pet name is Mommy's Little Barnacle.
She has one week left of "day camp," then a week at home before the term starts at her new day care/nursery after Labor Day. She's gotten back into the swing of day care all right: she's getting accustomed to the idea that Mommy takes her someplace where she gets to play with different toys all day; then Mommy comes to get her and we go home to Daddy, who is Still Working; so Mommy makes a little snack and we play together until Daddy makes dinner. Either that or we come home to Daddy, who is Still Working, and Mommy passes out on the couch while Gigi turns the living room upside down and brings Daddy toys to share. The latter is a little more common as we approach Month Seven of this pregnancy.
But hey, it's a routine, right? And little ones thrive on routine, right?
Yeah, it's past my bedtime. More updates on Getting To Know Our New Island Home, on our next episode of Purple Scare. Good night, y'all.