In my ever-present quest to escape the 95 degree heat that lasts all afternoon, yesterday I went to the movies. Saw a film called "The Berkmans are Separating", only to find out that the original title in English is "The Squid and the Whale". Just makes you wonder WHO up there makes these decisions when they start subtitling films and renaming them. I mean, truly, why can't they translate it literally? Why give away the whole dang plot by telling us what is going to happen to the Berkmans in the title? Why not leave the mystery of the interesting scary water animal reference? If I was French, I'd be a tad insulted.
Then I went and walked around the mall for an hour with my husband and sister-in-law, in the blissful air conditioning. I treated myself to my first "McFlurry" in about 3 years. Heaven.
Came home, took a nap, watched the Tour de France, watched the French guy who should've won yesterday's stage get duped in the last few kilometers by the sneaky German, and then listened to the French commentator say "Quelle deception" over and over.
At 6 pm, we drove next door to Villefranche for a lovely swim. Floating in the sea for an hour when the sun has hidden itself behind a cloud almost makes you forget you have 14 extra kilos. Except for when, on the way back to your apt, 3 blocks away, you suddennly have a contraction. I mean, a real contraction. Like, can't talk, can't think, freak out, thing your back is opening up at the tailbone contraction.
The whole thing was over in about 5 minutes, and hasn't happenned since. It was enough to put the fear of God into me, however. My husband dumped me out in front of the apt and my sister-in-law fumbled with his keys to get me into the bldg, still in my bikini and wrapped up in a sarong, doubled over waiting for the elevator. By the time I got into the apt they had stopped.
The evening continued with a lovely leek quiche made by Terrified Husband Extraordinaire and a game of Scrabble in French (p.s. I lost after coming up with only the following words in French: genius, he, she, it, drool, bed, iodine and koala).
The lingering memory of that pain is still with me this morning. Up until now, I felt happy to wait out the last bit of this pregnancy as I enjoy leisurely days with DVD's of "Guys and Dolls' and "The Sound of Music", mixed in with Season 1 of "Lost" and rolling the change in my big change jar. However, I now feel like I'm waiting to go before a firing squad. I'd just as soon get it over with, because sitting around waiting for that kind of pain to strike again is, let's say, less than relaxing.
