Maybe It's The Cookies

I made a batch of white chocolate oatmeal cookies. Maybe that's how I am gaining weight at a rapid rate. Nah, I only had two.

My doctor's appointment on Tuesday went well. I finally met one of the doctors, and despite the fact that she's the one who put me on restrictions because of my last ultrasound, I liked her. She's young, energetic and probably willing to answer all my questions if I'd just decide to ask them all. I have a whole list highlighted in my Mayo Clinic book about things I do and don't want to happen in labor but I was putting it off until I met the doctor and now I'm putting it off until labor is a little more on the horizon. I'm about 14 weeks away from that point. Maybe at 7, we can sit down and have an information-fest. The ultrasound was good, she showed us that my placenta had moved way up to attach at a safe spot. Squirrel's head was down toward my left hip and the little kicking feet were up by my ribs. Squirrel kept it's hands close to the face, all curled up. We saw the spine, but not the front side. She mostly kept the head in view, although we did see the umbilical cord. I suppose that's how she keeps us from "seeing" the sex. I wish she would have showed us something so that CS might have a little less arrogance about the fact that he "saw" it last time. Unless he happens to see it again. Then it's another two months of "it's a boy" all the time.

Work at the newspaper is going alright. Except for all the ridiculous phone calls I get. For example, yesterday afternoon, this exchange took place:

Me: Copper Country News, this is Jessica.
Grandma Lady: Hi, I have a question about something in your paper and maybe you can help me.
Me: Ok, I'll try.
Grandma Lady: You have a recipe in there for Watkin's pot pie, you know, and I was wondering...
Me: (oh fuck, I know where this is going)
Grandma Lady: and it calls for a crust that's more biscuit-like, which my daughter likes. But my son likes the other kind, and we were wondering if you knew if they could be switched...
Me: I'm sorry, I won't be able to help you. We don't try out the recipes before they are submitted. It's a Watkin's recipe, you need to call them.
Grandma Lady: Yes, I know we have one in town, do they sell it at the pharmacy on Broad?
Me: I don't know, you would need to call him. The number for the Watkins salesman is on the ad in the paper.


These kind of calls? HAPPEN ALL THE TIME. The other day I took a call from a mother who was trying to get her daughter a job with the roller skating rink that isn't even open yet and she wanted me to track down the number of the owner and give her a call back.

Hold up! You are calling me for your daughter? Shouldn't SHE be out there trying to track this number down? No? I don't think I'm wrong in this opinion. Do your own damn research. I just answer the phone.

I'm constantly shocked by the things that people think I should do for them since I work for the paper. I play the "I'm new here" card at least once a week. And I mean the I'm new to this area, not new at my job. I get my job, it's this town that still has me all turned around. Small town people are a little off sometimes.