A collection of thoughts and updates with no apparent underlying connection nor snappy title.

Last Monday my cousin Sarah had her second daughter, Geonna Jenah. My sister-in-law's sister-in-law had herself a little girl yesterday. Don't know the name, but I know she was 8lbs something, which is toooo big to think about, vaginally speaking. But this makes me next in line. All the other preggos I knew due before me have popped. Please note the undeniable excitement in my voice. wow. gee whiz. yikes. no. no! not ready. My friend Debbie (and fellow blogger - see list) is due on MY due date. She has a little girl and they are expecting a boy this time. Just like us. I offered a friendly wager as to who goes into labor first, but I'm seriously hoping I lose.

Sarah and Geonna (any Pittsburgh Penguin fans around?)

I'd also mentioned in a prior blog about some friends' ill parents. Our friend's mother died this past Saturday and we were up again in Belfast for the second funeral in 5 weeks. Irish funerals are very different to any I've been to in America. Northern Irish; even different-er. The deceased is waked in the house for two days/nights. This means the person dies, they are whisked off to get their hair, face and nails done (and I guess they are embalmed as well)... then brought back to their house that same day. They will be laid out either in their coffin or in a bed(!) in the living room. Then friends and family come over to visit and drink tea and eat butter and ham sandwiches. Someone stays with the guest of honor the whole time, shifts at night. The room in which they are placed is lined with chairs and apparently, that is the room to be in (though I imagine, preferably, as one of the upright inhabitants). The morning of the funeral, many gather at the house and the coffin is carried out of the house and down the street, pallbearers being switched out at assigned intervals. At some point it is then transferred to the hearse and the mourners then walk behind the car as it makes its way to the church. As the procession made its way down the main street of Randallstown, shops drew their shades and passersby stopped and stood, genuflecting. It was beautiful and moving. I bawled my eyes out. Though it may have had something to do with my current hormonal upheaval.

Things on the homefront have been fairly uneventful. Poor, poor Manus had to to go today on a free two night cruise on a brand new ship out of Southampton. I was invited, but sadly, too pregnant to fly and/or cruise. Strange how Im not too pregnant to be left at home... all alone... to take care of Katie...all by myself... It is to be an "excellent networking opportunity" as it is a "great honor" to be invited, one "not to be turned down" and made up of executives and company bigwigs. Ahem. Spoke to Manus this afternoon after he'd had his nap in his king sized bed in his corner suite with private balcony and a workout at the gym and he said, quite to his surprise, that many of the attendees appear to be, in actual fact, travel agents. Young, buxom travel agents. If he knows whats good for him he will mind just how he "works" his "net" and all his other tackle too.

So we two girls are on our own here. You know what that means... Yep, the place is an absolute mess already. I feel like a bachelor again! Beds unmade. Dirty dishes stacked in the sink. And the great debate: mac n cheese or popcorn for dinner? Later Katie and I are going to crack open a few brews and fart on the couch without fear of reproach.