Rejected but not Dejected.

So to the surprise of exactly nobody, I was not selected to read at the BlogHer Community Keynote.  However, that said and my minor disappointment aside, quite a few people whom I alternately admire and adore were, indeed, selected. I will live vicariously through them and also probably give them some of my drink tickets so I can watch enviously as they sip the martinis I wish I could have.

Although technically my drink tickets don't belong to me and I'm really giving away her drink tickets, since as my room mate she has already staked her fair claim on them.  

But I digress, and y'all can fight her for them later.  Seriously. I'll make a fortune selling tickets to that spectacular, which is much more reasonable than my idea for the Pregnant Caged Death Match - Me vs. Amalah.  Because everyone knows pregnant women don't do caged death matches.  At least not when there is a buffet in the vicinity.  Unless they're fighting over the last slice of pineapple upside-down cake.  MMmm.... cake.

But, er, BlogHer is only a week away, people!  My head is aching with the sorting through my rapidly dwindling selection of "cute maternity clothes that still fit my enormously bulky girth" and the choosing between money for groceries or a new pair of lust-worthy shoes.

So dedicated am I to this whole proposition that I even managed to give myself a pedicure today.  Imagine sitting on a kitchen chair with a yoga ball strapped to your stomach. Good. Now try to lean over and reach your toes.  Yeah, that's a fair approximation of what I just went through.  But I managed it, and my feet are velvety soft and the french pedicure even came out respectable.  You may now marvel at the greatness of my accomplishment.  Me? I'll be over here snarfing down more cake.

OH! And speaking of cake... (smooth transition, right?!)

Happy 30th Birthday to Big Daddy!

We celebrated the occasion early - way back on the 4th - so that he could be surrounded by loved ones when he came to terms with his mortality blew out his candles.  I even got a cake with appropriately funerary festive black roses, because I'm thoughtful that way.

Mmm... cake.

Does not look 30.

So today he is OFFICIALLY 30, and we celebrated again with a Funfetti cake expertly crafted with the help of the small humans.  Also, he received new boxer shorts and Hanes undershirts as gifts because, obviously, I am the best wife EVAR.  

Actually, his real gift comes this weekend when he heads out to the wilds of the New River for a weekend of camping and whitewater rafting with the proverbial "guys".  I'm not sure what all this weekend entails beyond probably head injuries, possible drowning, and the odd weenie roast. (Not a euphemism... so far as I am aware, anyway).  I'm guessing there will also be mass quantities of beer and maybe some manly chest bumping.

So Happy Birthday, Baby.  Enjoy all the opportunities for untimely death and male bonding.  Just be careful, and remember that you're not as young as you used to be.  You know - like, yesterday.