Newest Chapter...

My brain is in a post-move mushy funk. And so this post will mostly be just a few pictures for the sake of updating. We made it to Baltimore---and Sam started his first week at his internship, a day that couldn't have come soon enough due to the extreme nerves/pant peeing that took over my husband during his last few days of freedom. We were happy to give him a kiss and give him the boot on Monday.

Before I get to talking about Baltimore, I will say that it seems that the insect population in Chicago joined forces and plotted our swift and sure exit from their city. I spent our last couple days there officially creeped out and heebie-geebie-ish when these little dears set up camp outside ALL of our windows:

I will freak out right now. I felt like I was on Arachnophobia. And they're not small, either. Like the size of a quarter. Want a closer look?

BLAM!

I think I just peed a little.

THEN! About an hour before we left, Sam opened the medicine cabinet in our bathroom and found this little P.O.S. making himself at home:

(That's my hand in the photo. To show you how big he was.)

Sam and I tried to kill him at first... but our united front against him quickly dissolved into rage and blaming and personal insults. The kind that only manifest themselves under circumstances of extreme duress and fear. The roach kept scurrying away, running into my bare feet, and across Sam's hand at one point. And each time he made a break for it I would become so overcome with terror that I'd botch the operation and prance around for 15 seconds straight, shaking all of the cockroaches off of me. Sam became so enraged that he banished me from participating... which I resented due to my superior skill and knowhow concerning most everything in general.

Nevertheless, I became quite liberated once I was dishonorably discharged from Operation Cockroach and listened intently from the safety of the living room as chaos erupted and then ended abruptly with an ear-splitting STOMP! After which, Sam emerged from our bedroom with his arms raised above his head, nodding slowly.... little remnants of cockroach dangling from his mouth. Victory was sweet. And it was his.

And then I sent him off with a clorox wipe to dispose of his prey properly. Because there wasn't actually cockroach remnants around his mouth. Just mostly all over the floor.

And so we gave Chicago and the spiders and the cockroaches the bird and headed off on our adventure to Maryland.

Our little, furnished apartment reminds me of our home when we lived in downtown San Francisco. Which gives me bitter-sweet-newlywed-blissful-no-kid feelings. Anyway, we're right by the harbor and there are lots of shops and restaurants and everything splendid in and around our building.

A shot of inside:

Views from our windows:

A little stroll with the Bischoffs down to the harbor two blocks from our building:

We took the day Saturday to head down to Vienna to visit Sam's brother, Joe, and his family. Heather, Joe's wife, gave birth to their 5th child one week ago, but that didn't stop her from preparing a delicious barbeque feast for us. It was a delightful day, indeed.

Pictures of Leah and her cousin, Maggie. Maggie is a complete chimp in the climbing department and left Leah in the dust all day. Here she had climbed into her crib, and then quickly out again as soon as Leah caught up with her.... took Leah a good 15 minutes of grunting and heaving to get out of that crib...

Maggie is of the mind-set that smiling for pictures is unfashionable. Much like her dad... and our ancestors of old. Every time she saw the camera, she'd get this very solemn look on her face. I thought she was quite dignified for a 2 year old. Leah, on the other hand. Well...

Babies gone wild

The few pictures I got of the boys were mostly far away of them playing soccer. And therefore quite uninteresting. I will send them to you, though, Heather. Thanks for the glorious day!

In other news, Carina and I have been exploring around (what would I do if she wasn't here with me!?!?!) and set off to a giant mall out in the burbs' the day before yesterday. We felt fat and ashamed with our pregnant selves when we were both pretty much out of commission yesterday... blaming our comatose state on "really overdoing it at that mall!"

I'm planning my most exciting venture to date today... a little jaunt to a fudge shop down the way that Carina has been raving about. It will probably earn its very own blog post.

And Today Makes Thirty-Three

My brother, Jesse, would have been 33 years old today. I wonder what his 34th year on this earth would have held for him. Would this have been the year that he was able to finally get his life back after such a tumultuous 4 years? Would he have started to be the wonderful father that he was only able to be in glimpses during his struggle with this life? Would he have finally started to live the principles of the gospel this year? I'm happy that I know he is living the gospel now, with our Savior, a teacher greater than any of us could ever hope to be. A perfect teacher.

My sister, Bethany, and I were peeing our pants with laughter on the phone yesterday, recounting some of the crazy things Jesse did during his last couple of years with us. Things that may or may not have made us laugh when they actually happened.

One of the attributes that made Jesse stand out from the rest of us was how fiercely protective he was. His exposure to the harshest realities of this world gave him a sense of suspicion and danger that his more sheltered siblings could never have even conjured up in our imaginations.

Bethany visited my parents in Idaho Falls last summer with her family and recounted one night when she was awakened by a black-hooded Jesse, hovering over her bed and shouting in a whisper that someone had just broken into her van. He insisted she get up and inventory her belongings. Bethany agreed, but not until she gave him a swift verbal lashing for waking her up in the night, clad in a hooded sweatshirt, hood up, shouting about "robbers!!" Don't screw with a mother of four, dressed as a robber yourself, in the middle of the night, Jess.

He laughed, as he often did, "Sorry sis. Sorry sissy."

Bethany went out to her van to find it locked and secure, with nothing out of place. When she reported back to my brother, she noticed he was fashioning a small arsenal of weapons that consisted of an ice pick, small hammer, and a lock tied to the end of a shoe-lace, to his belt. He was unsatisfied with her report of no foul play and decided he was going to go on a patrol of the neighborhood. And then he set off into the night.

In this instance, there were no robbers. But rest assured, Jesse employed himself as the Neighborhood Watch: protector of all mini-vans, for the remainder of my sister's visit.

This story itself may not seem too extraordinary. But I tell it because it was just so him. Jesse always fancied himself a sort of vigilante... always looking for some injustice to make right, some underdog to protect or stick up for, some naive sibling he could wise-up to the "real world."

I had an awful dream the other night that something unspeakable was happening to my brother, Abe, at the hand of some corrupt government. In panic and horror, all my family could do was look to Jesse. We knew he was the only one with the strength, courage and skills to do anything. And the rest of my dream consisted of watching Jesse wreak havoc on those who were trying to harm his little brother.

I woke up relieved and desperate to see both of my brothers. And then relief settled into the all-too-familiar sadness that comes with this sort of reality. I will be gloriously reunited with my brother, Abe, in Idaho in couple of weeks. But for Jesse, I will have to wait a little longer.

One thing I do know is that it has been just over seven months since Jesse's passing and, somehow, he is still finding a way to fiercely protect his family. I am sure of that.

Happy, happy birthday, my dear brother. Your littow sistow can't wait to see your face.

Pregnant Beast Insanity

You know those days where you feel like everything in the universe got together for a secret meeting with the sole agenda being how they (the universe) can plot to send you spiraling into a dark abyss of rage and hate? Oh, you don't? Hmmm. Weird.

My new found hero, Allie*, brilliantly coined this phenomenon, a "Sneaky Hate Spiral," and today, well, mostly just this evening, actually, I found myself in the midst of my very own sneaky spiral of hate.

It started with more of a hate ambush, actually. My mom called me and exclaimed that some soulless, hateful, wretch of a white-trash-no-good-lilly-livered-two-bit-sonoffabeach-scheister stole the potted lilies she left on my brother's grave a couple of days ago. I couldn't believe it. Who would do that?

After we raged to each other and ruminated about the sure damnation of whomever it was that would do such a thing, we hung up the phone and I sat for a while stewing over the suckiness of humanity in general. Naturally, I dreamed up an elaborate plot to wait in my brother's cemetery this summer, clad in ninja gear, ready to pounce and assassinate any would-be flower/hope-in-humanity burglers. I felt confidant that no one would ever suspect a largely pregnant woman to be capable of a crane kick to the face. And that's exactly how I planned to administer the assassination.

After I felt satisfied with my assassination plot, I decided I should head to the gym to begin training. Since I haven't gone to work out since the very beginning of this pregnancy, just the thought of getting some exercise made me feel all wonder-womany and empowered. Look how awesome you are for going to the gym when you're feeling all sub-par and pregnant. Everyone will think you're so adorable and admirable with your pregnant belleh bouncing around on that elliptical. You'll probably make some new friends. And when you explain that you are simply there to get in shape to selflessly rid the world of flower/hope killers they'll think you're a real hero!

Yes. This was a great idea.

I gleefully pulled a pair of spandex workout pants from my closet and pulled them up over my protruding stomach. I'm currently in the awkward regular-to-maternity clothes transition where nothing fits quite right, and my non-maternity workout pants cut me off right in the middle of my baby bump. And it gave me a complete BIF**. Which happens to be my very favorite look.

I decided not to be discouraged, pulled on one of Sam's t-shirts and went on my way. I made my way to the front door where Sam was studying on the couch and, in a plea for moral support, turned to him and asked, "Am I too fat for these pants right now?" WARNING! WARNING EVERYBODY!

Sam looked me up and down, furrowed his brow, and said, "Hmmm. Turn around."

HOW!? HOW!? HOW ARE YOU STILL SO STUPID?! HOOOOOWW!?

Me: Um, you really should have just said, "no."

Sam: Honey, you're pregnant!

Me: Not in my thighs! Thanks.

Sam: No, it goes everywhere baby. Thighs, butt, arms. You know.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me: Alright, that's enough out of you. You really should have just said, "no." (DEATH STARE)

I exited immediately feeling the flower ninja rage start to fester up again in my gut.

I pulled up to the gym and parked alongside a car whose driver was still sitting in his seat. As I got out of my car, I saw him exit his in my peripheral. He was startlingly tall and huge and looked like a yeti. And he proceeded to walk six inches behind me the entire way into the gym. I kept waiting for his foot to scrape down the back of my achilles. He was that close.

He continued to close-walk up the stairs all the way to the cardio room. I considered blasting him with a horsekick behind me on the way. I shot him a crusty over my shoulder. I pretended to stumble in hopes that he would dodge me and move on. But Yeti was undeterred. When we entered the cardio room, much to my dismay and bewilderment, he climbed right up onto the elliptical next to mine. And as we started up our machines, I noticed him peeking over at me as I entered my weight. Judging me.

It didn't help that both my weight and age had increased since the last time I had been at the gym. And that my little TV didn't work. And that Yeti smirked and blew a little snot out of his nose when he saw me discover that it wasn't turning on.

What is going on here? Were you sent here by the flower/murderers of hope and love to taunt me? YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME, YETI!?

I sat there, glancing longingly from side to side as he and the lady on the other side of me chuckled along to "The Office" while they labored away.

After Yeti had worked up a nice sweat, he lumbered over to one of the huge communal fans in the corner and proceeded to hercules it over his head and set it down right beside his elliptical on the side opposite of the side where I was located. He positioned it so that the air was being blown directly across his body and blasting me in the face with his sweaty stench. And then he got back on his machine and began pumping his arms up and down.

I hated Yeti. I hated him even more as his huge Yeti body started making his machine jump around because he was getting a little too enthused about his workout and he had clearly left the "resistance" at the lowest level causing a complete elliptical spazz-out. And I hated the lady on the other side of me whose TV worked and who took her cues from Yeti and went ahead and positioned a fan on the other side of her, forcing me into a turbo-wind vortex of stranger B.O. and SARS and bird flu.

And I felt the hate start to boil over, consuming my body. And I did a jedi-mind hulk t-shirt shred... in my mind. And threw some heavy equipment through the second story window. And I verbally berated Yeti about how he was a dude and how he should be over on the treadmills with the other dudes because his body was too huge and lumber-y to be graceful on an elliptical....

Things really took a turn for the worse when I finished up my workout and made my way to the exit. I noticed Yeti immediately shut down his machine and walk towards the exit as well. No, No this can't be happening. I left in a hurry, Yeti still right behind me. It all came to a head when his close-walking continued all the way back to my car. I couldn't handle it anymore. I turned around and raised my hand to try to slap him. He grabbed my wrist and muscled me up against the garage wall and slapped me in the face over and over. They weren't really hard slaps. Just mostly hard enough to let me know he meant business.

Just kidding. None of that happened. I never even went to the gym. Just kidding again. Only the him following me out and slapping me part didn't happen. Oh, and I never tried to slap him either. But you can imagine what it would have been like if I did.

I don't really know what else to say. Because truthfully, I just finished my work out and left. And felt a little better as soon as I got out of the stink-vortex-of-hate-and-everything-bad. And I feel even better now that I've spewed everything out on this here blog post. But if you feel like recounting this story to any of your friends, feel free to end it with the slapping part. I won't judge you. But I will say that those flower/happiness ruiners really have it coming this summer.

And now I've got to go say family prayer.

*Read her blog at your own risk. Your productivity will be hindered greatly and you will start to only ever be able to think in terms of her illustrations.

**If you know what this is, you'll think what I said was funny. If you don't, I'm sorry.