I have a real doctor, but she's way over there.

I don't know what pregnant women did before The Googles.  The search terms I have googled in conjunction with 'pregnancy' are legion, and mostly disgusting.  Some of the lesser-embarrassing ones include 'pregnancy and nosebleeds' (super-common!), 'pregnancy and migraine auras' (not terribly uncommon!), 'pregnancy and losing an eyebrow' (commoner than you'd think!).

And I knew that lower back pain was a thing (because come on, these boobs.  If I were my lower back I'd be a jerk about it, too), but I've been having extremely localized pain in my mid-upper right back.

'pregnancy and mid-upper back pain'...hey, that's totally a thing!  Except everyone is like, Yes!  I have that!  And my doctor doesn't know what to do about it!  So looks like we'll just have to suffer through, ladies!

And then a few of them are all, It's trapped gas, or a pinched nerve.  At any rate, do X and Y to try to expand your rib cage, and that should help.

It helps.  Thanks, Dr Googles.

Sunshiiiiiiiiiiine

Stanley Park was lovely yesterday.

And adorably verminous.

Oh look, a Lost Lagoon!

Oh look, more beasties I should probably not want to cuddle with my face, but do!

Queen of Tarts

We had Thanksgiving last night because, as I have mentioned previously, my family cares little when the actual holiday is, and because Joel and I were in Whistler on actual-Thanksgiving with his family (Whistler on a sunny day is puppy-central and I petted all the ones).

Ok and at BEA I picked up this Pies and Tarts cookbook:

It's round (der) and every page spread has a recipe on the left and then a PICTURE OF THE ENTIRE PIE on the right.  I freaking love food pictures (and you are like, Really.), so I also got this cookbook in the Pizzas edition (same deal, but pizzas).  It was so hard for me to not grab All The Cookbooks at BEA because even though I don't really USE them (I have an internetz, after all), I find them so aesthetically pleasing.

Anywert, yesterday I pulled out my Pies and Tarts to find something to make for dessert, finally settling on a chocolate mousse tart.  Chocolate mousse, I could drink you with a spoon!

Also, there were raspberries at the store, and they did not cost a million moneys.

But ok, the mousse part took, like, an hour, and had eleventy ingredients, and there was a lot of stirring in a double boiler over barely simmering water, and whipping and folding in and then whipping of other things and folding those in, and it was very delicious but very rich and also the recipe made maybe twice as much as necessary.

I'm not totally sure what to do with all that leftover mousse.

And then the frostingy bit to go 'round the outside was just whipped cream with cocoa powder and some powdered sugar.  It took maybe three minutes, and was nothing like as heavy, OH AND ALSO WAS AMAZING.

What I'm saying is, for lazier days I will definitely just whip some three-ingredient faux-mousse and pour it on an oreo crust.  Hey presto.

Edited to add: tart was very good yesterday, but exponentially better the next day.  Maybe because I haven't spent the previous three hours 'sampling for quality' and 'making myself sick.'

Closed on Mondays, but open Tuesdays.

I haven't had all the donair in Victoria, but I feel safe saying that The Donair Shop does indeed have the best donair in all of Victoria.

In hopefully unrelated news, the amount I can slouch without my boobs resting on my belly is approaching nil.

Before she's even on the outside.

Totally annoyed with the baby last night for the first time (discounting those 'Lousy baby, can't have a beer' and 'Lousy baby, can't lie face-down' and 'Lousy baby, shoving all my stomach acid into my esophagus' moments) because I was awake at 3 (as one is) and she wouldn't calm. down. 

Like, after I drank the Toxic Diabetes Juice (To Test For Diabetes, But Kind Of Also To GIVE You Diabetes) yesterday, it was like popcorn popping in there.  And I dig.  You have just had your first taste of candy-for-breakfast, you clearly need to climb some walls.  (Uterine walls.  Ugh.  Sorry.)

But in the middle of the night you need to settle for a few desultory kicks, maybe a bit of backstroke.  Mostly, though, you could practice sleeping.  And then *I* could be sleeping.