The Neighborhood Walk

Since I had to stop running, I have been walking. A lot. Every day, and sometimes more than once a day. Down the street to Palisades Park, and either South towards The Pier or North towards San Vicente. My walks have been getting more and more interesting as I've grown larger these last few weeks. A few examples...

• While walking past St. Monica's Church on a Sunday morning, an old woman who I presume to be homeless and I am certain was mentally unstable says to me, "I hope you know who the father is..." Oh, if only you could hear the inflection of her voice. "I hope you know who the faaaaaaaaaather is..." I almost died.
• In contrast, while walking past a bar just the other day, a drunk lady smoking a cigarette told me I was BEAUTIFUL. Now, I get it - tons of people think pregnant women are beautiful and glowing. But I'd been having a particularly fat and ugly day. So even though this woman was a complete stranger, drunk, and smoking, I hugged her.  
• While crossing the street today, someone pulled up to a stop sign while blasting some impressive gangsta rap. But upon making eye contact with me, the person turned the music off. I think he was embarrassed to blast such hard core beats in front of a pregnant lady. Too bad he doesn't know that I still know -- and routinely rap -- the lyrics to "We Be Clubbin" for the benefit of Peanut.
• While strolling down another stretch of the street, Jeremy and I encountered a man walking his dogs with his son, who I guess was about three years old. We were passing a house that was decorated for Halloween and had a "Keep Out" sign on the door. The boy was asking his dad the meaning of "Keep Out" and he apparently didn't like his father's response, because all of a sudden, the boy said, "You're not that clever, Dad." I guess it starts pretty early, doesn't it?

Laughing after a hilarious interaction on the streets of Santa Monica...

Smiling at 38 Weeks!

Ouch! Labor? No. Sadly.