My blood pressure today was 104/62.
“Pretty good, right?” I asked the nurse.
“Yes, that’s great”, she replied, entering the data into my health records on the computer.
That blood pressure screening always makes me so relieved because of the stress on me and Phil right now; I’m concerned for the baby.
However, I was having a great morning: I woke up early, got to work early, it’s a quiet Thursday morning, the best day of my work week. England and the USA had won yesterday, Phil was coming home tonight, and I was in a happy mood, despite the [house] difficulties that we have going on in our lives.
I opened my email and saw that the fare for a flight from Atlanta was on sale. SO, I bought my ticket to go to Callie’s baby shower! (and bought a few things on Etsy for said baby shower)
It was going to be a good morning.
I had my bi-monthly doctor’s checkup later this morning. It went great, we’ve not gained any weight in the last two weeks (we’re healthy!) and her heartbeat sounds loud and strong.
Then, miracle of miracles, as I’m driving back to work from the doctor’s, Phil calls to tell me that the one bedroom apartment we’re hoping to rent will only be needed for one month.
Because we got approval on the house.
Praise God, through Whom we have all things! We’re so relieved and happy and excited!
We’ll move in sometime in July, after closing goes through.
Give God some praise!
Friday, June 18, 2010
Since starting my posh corner-office job, I’ve been doing a lot of one very mundane thing: sitting. Now, maybe I don’t have a posh-corner office job, but I do have a pretty good one with a cubicle in the front row. The location of said cubicle is paramount to my needing to get up and walk around a few times a day; to exit from too-loud conversations that happen right at my window more times than should be normal. I have my back to the loud people usually, too, so I can never tell what they’re doing: looking at me, my screen, my plant, or just looking at each other and talking loudly. So, I take a walk, just to get out from the maybe-or-maybe-not intrusive stares.
Going to the bathroom is an 8-minute adventure for me. If it’s empty, lucky me. If it isn’t, and the occupant seems like she’ll likely be more than 18 seconds, I politely blow my nose and leave, acting as if that’s the reason I went in there in the first place. I just like to be alone. I will usually walk around the halls a bit, and hope they’re gone when I try again. In the farthest bathroom from my workplace, it’s usually empty, freeing me from the whole nose-blowing bit. After rearranging bella-bands, long-sleeved cardigans for the freezing temperatures at work and otherwise getting this pregnant belly appropriately covered, I do squats. I did them from day one I started at work. My theory is that while sitting on my bum all day, I should be doing something to combat the atrophy, right? So, right there on the tiles of the floor, I make an X and—high heels and all—do 20 squats. Then I yoga-pose to the side bend for 15 seconds, Namaste, and then the other side, back to Namaste. Then I crack my back. And it’s back to the loud talkers at my cube. But now I have Namaste and glutes of steel so that preoccupies my thoughts and I can’t tell you how much better I feel.
this is what "I" would look like, sans blonde ponytail and beach background: