I do not understand why my hips and thighs are getting bigger. Well, OK, the bagel, muffin and ice cream may have something to do with it. But really, there is no baby on my hips. No need for them to get bigger! Of course, tummy is not far behind. In fact, I am sad to report that I am losing my waistline.

The sheikh has gone for the afternoon so I guess it will be zzzzzzzz time for me. I was worried that he took only the afternoon off because in the morning there might be firing squads. Perhaps there were, but I heard nothing.

Trying hard to come up with a way of taking a vacation and not spending any money. It's proving very difficult. Damn hotels are SO expensive! I wanted to go to Halifax or even Ottawa. All hotels are about $100 a night. B&b's are about the same. Damn!

Oh too funny, Chrissie just left too. You can tell when the sheikh is not here!

Being sick sux. Not being able to take anything to make yourself feel better sux even worse. It all puts me in a foul foul mood. I can't even have a hot toddy to warm myself up. Pregnant people can't do anything! Grrrr!
I was all miss grump last night. Arthur offered to make me chicken soup and I told him not to put any weird vegetables in it. Last time he put in some sweet potato. He's so sweet. I love him so!

Maybe it's a sign that I'm getting older, but increasingly I notice how tactless people are. Yesterday Rodrigo asked me if Arthur minded that he's not working and not able to contribute financially. No, Rodrigo, he loves it! What do you think? Obviously he hates it! What is wrong with people? I mean do I go around asking him if he likes the fact that his wife couldn't 'stick it out' with him and left after eight months? Grrr!
I also don't make sure I enumerate to Gina all of her problems and keep saying 'you must be so stressed' all the time. But then that one is a regular little ray of sunshine. No matter what she says, it come out negative.
OK, done griping for the moment.

Italian scientists have discovered that the reverse side of the Shroud of Turin also contains an image of the face and hands of Jesus or whoever was wrapped in the shroud.

http://www.iop.org/EJ/news/-topic=735/journal/1464-4258

Interestingly, some say that this can be proof that the Shroud is authentic. It is sure to spark more debate.

No enlightened answers emerged yesterday. Obviously things like the queen of England and the most read writer in the world are not options. I wonder who is the most read writer in the world. Hm.

The search continues.

Sometimes I have the irresistible urge to run away. Then I come to the question - who would I be if I were not me. Suppose that there was an accident and everyone thought I died in it, but of course I didn't. Would I go back to my life? In the end I think I would because I would not want to live without Arthur. But let's just suppose that I didn't. I could start my life from scratch. Who would I be?
Or what if I got amnesia and could not remember any of my past including upbringing and childhood. I could become someone completely different. I would have no ingrown fears and inhibitions because everything would be starting anew.
I guess what I'm saying is that I want a new start of some kind. I want a change, a good change. There are some patterns in my life that are bringing me down and I want to get rid of them. Running away would be a lot easier though.

Manners are officially a thing of the past. All the farty people in this city were riding the subway with me today. Whatever happened to holding it until you get to a bathroom?! No, instead they regale everyone with their essence.
Of course, on the other side from farty boy on the Bloor line, sat a lady who had an accident with a perfume bottle. Clearly all the contents of it had spilled on to her and she had no time to shower to get the stink off before she boarded the subway. So, here were my alternatives, breathe in the human aroma or the concentrated flowery sticky sweetness of some knock off perfume, which made me sneeze uncontrollably. I tried to breathe in the small area of space between the two pungent passengers and prayed for Yonge station to come soon.

Three days of training. My brain is about to ooze out of my ears. The trainer, Jumba was from Nigeria and had a very interesting accent. Sometimes I could not quite catch what he said. It took me a while to realize, for example, that Elia Vachon, whom he insisted on talking about was in fact 'earlier version'. It kept making me think about Prescious Ramotswe. On top of it he kept referring to certain processes as 'this thing' and that made me think about "The Gods Must be Crazy". All, in all, quite pleasant reminiscing there. But of course I could not do that for three days. Am quite tired now. Learning is a very energy consuming process. Maybe will take a snooze at my desk...Zzzzzzzzzzzz

Been feeling sick like a dog. Riding buses is especially challenging, with all the smells of people around and the sudden breaking. This morning I thought I was going to throw up then and there. Ah, the joys of impending motherhood!