Announcement

I am aware that it has been nearly an eternity since I have blogged. It is difficult to write about anything else when there's a quite large something on your mind that you aren't allowed to blog about. However, the secret is out, so I can once again, merrily tap-tap-tappity on the keys.

There I stood at home plate staring down a pitcher, who I can only imagine had my utter destruction in mind. He'd already thrown a nasty twelve foot arc that only by grace was called a ball. I'm sure he was quite secure in his belief that before him stood another little girl, a bunting pansy, a softball wall flower. Poor lad couldn't have known that before him stood an Abi. A real Abi, the kind they don't make every day of the week, the kind they watch because she has no good in mind.

I glared. It's a bad habit. There's some wickedness in my subconscious that demands in the midst of battle I glower like a Greek in the face of the Persians. I'm sure it is no where near as terrifying as the picture in my mind. In my mind this is the glare that sent a thousand ships back the way they came, tails set firmly between their legs. In reality, Justin snickers every time he sees it and tells me how adorable it is. But I persist never-the-less, and glare I did with intense ferocity at said unsuspecting pitcher.

He let the ball fly, I swung the bat, and from the recesses of my primitivity came a grunt that would put Sharapova or Williams to shame. And that ball went. Far.

After I easily hit first, I turned to my brother-in-law and begged him for a pinch runner. He got the ump's attention, but kept throwing me strange glances. There was some atrocious to-do about getting me a runner, and in the end I don't imagine the rules were followed by said ump. Finally, my husband stepped in and defended my honor: "Give her a break! She's Pregnant!"

Well, that wasn't subtle. Nor conducive to game winning. As half our bench scraped their jaw out of the dirt, confusion ensued. It was a clever way to announce it, but I imagine the inning might not have ended on the next play if we weren't all so flummoxed.

So yes, I'm pregnant. And wishing I were dead. While quite amazing at hitting softballs, Abi's are not very good at being pregnant.

I'm sure amidst the first pregnancy as Eve held her swimming head over a hole and wretched up every good, bad, knowledgeable, and stupid fruit she had ever eaten, Adam (annoyed his own self at having to pull weeds all day) commented, "Well, that's what you get, Miss 'I-gotta-try-that'." And she promptly kicked him in his sheep-skin covered jewels, just to be sure she would not have to endure this havoc again any time soon.