the fetus begins her life of crime

One minute, I'm the picture of domesticity - baking two (not just one!) cherry pies with the berries picked from my own yard. My sister-in-law has been so helpful with last-minute babysitting and such, so I pop out at 9PM to drop off one of the pies for her. They live just a mile away. I'm zipping home and dash through a yellow light literally 1/2-block from my house. And cue the flashing lights on an unmarked police car. CRAP!

So I'm pulled over.. me, the cute little pregnant lady, dropping off a fresh-baked cherry pie at my brother's place. Who could be more wholesome? Did I mention that I left my wallet & license at home? And then I argued with the officer about whether the light was yellow or red? He basically threatened to haul me to jail for driving without a license and running a red, then he went back to his car to look up my plates.

I sat in my car, thinking that he probably didn't notice the baby bump, I didn't mention the cherry pie, and this guy has no reason to cut me any slack because I'm just some law-breaking combative broad with no evidence of baking skills. And I had flashbacks to my bloggy friend Ashley who was taken, wrongly I might add, to the pokey while PG with twins, dehydrated, and more than a little hysterical. Is that their new tactic - stick it to the pregnant ladies?! Well, I was well-hydrated and carrying a singleton, so I figured I could take it.

Mercifully and inexplicably, the officer let me off with a warning. He told me to obey the traffic lights, take my license even for a tiny little errand, and "Don't get argumentative". I'm thinking "Yes, yes, and uh.. maybe." I went home, cut a piece of pie for Mr. Foxy and me, and didn't breathe a word about my and the fetus' little brush with the law.

pettipants and PhDs

So I have a few cute maternity skirts, perfect for summertime preggo-wear. There are some problems, though. You cross your legs and your flesh sticks together. You walk around and there's the chafing issue. Heaven forbid there's a little stubble on your thighs and suddenly you're in dreadful scrapie-scratchy territory! Of course pantyhose would alleviate these problems, but today's fashion dictates that one should go hose-less.

So what's a girl to do? Well, I found the solution:

PETTIPANTS!

I didn't know quite what I was looking for, but I browsed around Ama.zon until this miracle product came up. Where have you been all my life, oh pettipants?! I ordered a pair and finally got to wear them yesterday. Heaven! I flashed them at one of my over-50 lady coworkers, who squealed out "Oh pettipants!". Apparently this is an old timey kind of thing. It beats me why these things ever went away.. they're frikkin' awesome.

In other fancy scientist lady news:

I am really getting somewhere with my PhD dissertation. Over the last 2-3 months, I've had a series of meetings with my thesis advisor. At every meeting, I present him with my latest data analysis acrobatics and he says "Okay, that's interesting, but what if you tried it THIS way? Do this other thing and then we'll talk again." So we've gone back and forth like this a few times. Then this afternoon, after I spent about 45 minutes attempting to explain my latest voodoo statistics, he says these magical words to me:

"I think you've done all you can with the data analysis - it's time to write this thing up and be finished with it."

***sound of angels singing***

At last, I have a plan and a schedule to graduate! I will write the dissertation up in June-July, allow for committee review and edits in August, present/defend my work in early September, thus giving me another month to make more edits and turn the thing in before the baby comes around October 7, in advance of the October 29 university deadline. It CAN be done! I will then request that you call me "Doctor Infertile Breeder". Until then, let's keep it casual.