B2S

It's here.

Tomorrow I go back to school and I'm not mentally prepared - at all.

I woke up today with horrific allergies,  probably the worst attack I've had in my adult life: my eyes are swollen shut, my nose has inflated to twice its size, my head is pounding, I'm having trouble breathing properly and I'm starting to break out in welts.  I'm a mess.

The allergy medication I took has done nothing to relieve my suffering so I'm trying to be proactive by eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in hopes that my extreme case of allergies might ward off or cancel out a future peanut allergy for Bebe - how do you like that logic, eh?

 I think it's time for a nap - who am I?

Learn to Like It

Dear Bebe,

I can't believe I'm about to say this, but learn to enjoy watching televised sports.

Your dad will help with this, don't worry; he's already looking forward to turning you into a Cowboys/Mets/Rangers/Rutgers/PGA/World Cup fan and he's even put in a few requests for little co-ordinating outfits for you so he can dress you for each event accordingly.

Your dad and I were both big athletes back in the day but the difference is that I only played sports - I never watched them,  much like your grandfather, Butchie, who was, apparently, a big stud back in the day on the field.  Butchie and I bonded over episodes of This Old House and while watching our favorite 1983 classic, Strange Brew, whereas your father and his father spent their weekends watching whatever sport was in season.  I think this is what lead to our present preferences.

Well, and the fact that he's a boy and I'm a girl and boys watch sports and well, most girls don't.

But there are exceptions, such as your gorgeous Greek auntie Christina F.  Now, Christina and I have argued this point a million times and I've expressed my dislike of her love for sports. She actually enjoys watching them.  Seriously - she goes out of her way to turn on a Jets game... what girl does that?

Apparently, beautiful ones like her.

And I must admit, I think it makes her life a bit easier than mine and will make her life A LOT easier once she is married because the thing is, all boys like sports (ok, there are a few exceptions but they are VERY few and far between - even scrawny, tight t-shirt wearing hipsters in bands over in Brooklyn like sports).

What boys don't like are girls who whine about their husband's sports viewing or who banish the hubs to the bedroom every Sunday afternoon.  And Monday evening. And during baseball season, every evening.

So, do yourself a favor and learn to enjoy watching sports.  I'll fix you a little treat to nibble on and pass your father an ice cold Sprite and then I'll take your father's wallet and go shopping.

Because no matter how much I think you should learn to enjoy watching sports, I never will.

Love,

Me

Prolong the Inevitable

Dear Bebe,

Someday, unless you're really lucky and find a cash cow to finance your lifestyle (and hopefully that of your parents), you'll be forced to enter a life of servitude, commonly known as the work force.

I suggest that you put this off for as long as possible or avoid it entirely.

There are several ways of doing so: remain a student for as long as possible (a scholarship student, mind you, or one with a stipend), find work on an organic co-operative farm that affords you room and board in exchange for slopping pigs and singing kumbaya, or hopefully, find a way to turn what you love to do into a lucrative money maker that only requires you to put forth limited, spontaneous efforts.

Your father and I have discussed this at length and both agree that as long as you are happy and healthy, we will support your endeavors, with some expectations: you refrain from posing for amateur photographers (mass market trade publications are fine, if tastefully done) and if asked by your grandparents, you ARE a Republican.

Enjoy your life,

Love, me

Advice to Bebe

I'm thinking of re-directing my blog focus and using this forum as an ongoing letter of advice to my future daughter.

Here is my first bit:

Dear Bebe,

When backpacking through Europe with your girlfriends (which you are free to do once you graduate high school), abstain from arguing with Czech taxi drivers over the fare.  Specifically, after the driver spits in your face, refrain from kicking the side panel of his sedan because a). he could pull a gun on you, stuff you in the trunk, and sell you to the sex trade or more importantly b). you risk scuffing the toe of your pretty stiletto and damaging your pedicure, not to mention you'll no doubt limp for the rest of the evening.

Cute boys do not like girls who limp or have ugly feet, nor do they marry ones who spent years in forced servitude.

Love,

Me

Alba Gu Brath, Part I

Good morning, Tobermory.

This was the third stop on our Scottish adventure

and the setting of Lynsey's wedding.  We arrived on 

the Tuesday before the Friday ceremony and quickly

fell in with new friends.  On Wednesday morning,

we hiked the muddiest trail I've ever been on to a 

lighthouse, where we met up with the groom's sister,

brother-in-law, and niece and nephew. 

Leave it to the Swiss to hike a rainy path 

with a 4 year old and 18 month old!

Our days on Mull were spent laughing and

lunching in muddy boots at posh cafes, such as 

this one (that also has a not-so-posh pub attached!)

Some chose to go whale watching while others 

stayed on dry ground for fear of heaving.

On Friday, we cleaned up for the wedding and 

witnessed a memorable ceremony at the village parish;

the Scottish/Swiss ceremony was a success, 

much like the couple itself!

Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Zingg

I drove us to the reception at Glengorm Castle 

in Karen's brother's Land Rover and that was

an adventure on those single track roads!  

Upon arrival, we were met with

flutes of champagne (BeBe thoroughly enjoyed hers)

and a host of kilts and traditional Swiss costumes.

Spending time with my best friends was amazing, 

even though I couldn't enjoy myself in true Ali fashion.

The party really took off when Skerryvore took the stage

and even I braved the heaving dance floor for a few turns;

if you're familiar with Ceilidh dancing, you'll 

understand why I was a bit apprehensive to join in -

the last thing BeBe needs is to be turned into a milkshake!

This picture doesn't even look like us. Pregnancy is affecting us both!

The party raged on until the wee hours of the morn,

but Matty and I were sensible (and sober) so we drove 

back to the inn around 11pm so we could get a good sleep

in order to make the ferry to Oban bright and early.  Karen, 

however, danced the night away and was still fresh faced

at 6 in the morning despite her 4 am bedtime!  Well, almost...

Goodbye, Tobermory! We'll see you again one day, we hope!

Tomorrow, we go over the sea to Skye!

Unmotivated

Pregnancy has made me very unmotivated.

I'm not sure if it's the hormones, the lethargy, 

or the lack of Adderal in my system but 

something has turned me into a slug and

I'm not at all happy about it.

Instead of motivated, I'm anxious and guilt 

ridden, worrying all the time about what I'm 

not accomplishing instead of enjoying what 

I am (which isn't much, except growing

a human being inside of me). 

My house is a mess, my closets need organized, 

the kitchen cabinet doors still need a coat or two 

of paint, and there's that 194 page novel that 

needs a conclusion and a final edit.

There's a pile of clean laundry draped over the

living room chair, a friend's first novel that needs a 

read, kitten claws that need a trim, and a baby 

registry that needs to materialize at some point.

Did I mention that I'm going back to work in a few

weeks and have a new prep to plan for?

Instead of getting to work on one of the above

projects, I'm finding a bit of satisfaction in 

working my way through the queue on our DVR;

today, I knocked out two episodes of Huge, a few

Bethenny Getting Married, a couple of Teen Moms

and an episode of Solve My Mystery.

Ah, accomplishment.

Sidebar: Am I the only one who thinks that the 

flight attendant who fled down the slide should be 

punished to the fullest extent of the law and not

allowed to profit from any entertainment deals?

Homeward Bound

This afternoon, we're catching a ferry to Mallaig

so we can catch a train to Glasgow, followed

by a bus to the airport where we'll be staying

at the very chic Holiday Inn Express in order

to catch our flight back to Newark tomorrow.

It's quite a journey home and I'm sad to see

our time in Scotland come to an end but I'm

really excited to get back to Headquarters 

and comfort Pinkerton, who, despite enjoying 

quality time with her Uncle Erik, has been 

snubbing her nose at her bedtime snacks, 

no doubt because she misses me so much 

that she's lost her appetite.  

I miss her desperately but I've still managed 

to enjoy more than my share of haggis and 

sticky toffee pudding, although I do

 think that I've lost some weight on this 

trip (which I'll attribute to the hiking and 

walking we've been doing on a daily basis).

I'll miss the cool sea air and wearing my 

Boston sweatshirt and wellies on a daily basis

(ok, so it hasn't rained much at all but they look

so cute on me that I've been fashionably sporting them).

I'm not looking forward to cranking up the AC and 

am actually dreading the electric bill but it will be

nice to walk through Stevens Campus in the morning

sun and perhaps enjoy a midgie free outdoor lunch.

Cross fingers that we have great seats on the flight,

no airport delays, that our luggage arrives with us, 

and that Bebe enjoys the next 36 hours of traveling!