Sound; My father punished me, and force fed me Kenny G all the way to Microcenter.

Sight: My stepmother's belly has dropped and she's having low level contractions. She is incredibly swollen.

Taste; Taco Bell 7 layer burrito.

Touch; Don't worry, the streak is broken. Wink wink, nudge nudge.

Smell; My father insisting that I pull his finger.

January 15, 2000
This entry brought to you by the number 4.

Number of days left until The Sopranos new season; 1

Number of days left until my brother is born; 4 (this is based on my full moon theory, we'll just see.)

Number of days left until I have to go back to work; 3

Number of days left until Adam goes back to work; 2

Number of days left until my review and subsequential raise; 45

Number of days left until I run a red river; 3-4

Number of days I've entered into my journal thus far; 28

Number of days I've deleted by accident out of my journal; 4

Number of days that my cousin has been back from Africa and I still haven't seen him; 12

Number of days left until I try skiing for the first time; 10

Number of days left until fall on my ass and break that little bone in the back; 10

Today my father called and if I wanted to go with him to MicroCenter to get a new monitor and a new adapter for his new digital camera. I never really turn him down for anything. While we were riding down the street that I take coming home from work everyday, he was telling me stories about having worked there (pointing to the left) and there (pointing to the right) doing surveying before this city was as over-developed as it is now. I had no idea my father did this work. He was laughing and telling me off-color stories about each company.

"Their first mistake was givin' me a company truck. I built a camper on the back of it with cedar shingles and a bunch of other shit...then nailed a sign to the side that said "The Honky Chateau," he said while I listened, not wanting to interupt because he's so rarely a talker. You don't want to break his stride.

"Your momma wouldn't even let me park it in front of our apartment, that was when we were living up behind the movie theater is now, when it used to just be a field," he never tells stories where my mother had a positive thing about her. That's alright though, it's never bothered me. If I know anyone who has the right to be slightly bitter, it's my father.

Then I spent the day setting things up and getting his camera to speak to the computer in a language they could bother understand. It's also a camcorder...it's a badass camera. Then I also installed some games and other assorted treats that he bought.

Now see, if you knew him, you'd find all of this highly amusing. He's only had the computer a few months. After my mother left, he said there would never be another computer in this house. You see, my mother met her current husband online. You see why it's funny now? Now it's different though, now he knows how to use it. I've taught him, I've armed him with the weapons he'll need in this age of technology...he has a high aptitude for it, although he's just a brillant man all around.

The rest of the evening was spent on the couch, at certain times moving beneath my husband, at others I was reading, and still at other times sleeping. I'm not sure why I dislike leaving my couch on the weekends unless necessary. It's not that I'm lazy, I believe. I think it may be just a safety issue. It's a huge baby blanket. On the weekends, I don't answer the phone, and only occasionally turn on the computer. It's just Adam and I against the world on the weekends. It's our only time together, and I'm fiercely protective of it.

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