For those of you who noticed and wondered, I apologize about my syndication feed today.  I was playing around with options yesterday and inadvertently changed my settings.  I would’ve noticed it earlier, but as it turns out, my Google Reader wasn’t running right, either.  So it was just a bad day in the blog world.

But the Cajun lo Mein was good. 

Jonathan of Step-Family Talk tagged me to write seven unusual facts about myself.  This is not difficult, because since I’ve known Bryan, I’ve had a multitude of odd things I do pointed out to me.  The hard part is narrowing it down to seven.

1. When I drink water, I swallow INCREDIBLY loudly.  It’s only when I’m drinking water.  I can chug tea, gatorade, tequila.. and nothing.  But give me some water, and it sounds like my epiglottal is broken.
2. I have a mole inside of my left eye.  I eventually learned this is common in extremely fair-skinned people, but it really freaked my eye doctor out.. which, in turn, freaked me out.
3. I don’t like my food to touch.  Therefore, Chinette divided plates are my favorite EVER. (This rule, however, does not apply to breakfast, where eggs and grits and bacon should most definitely do a dance in my mouth.)
4. I only eat one food at a time.  I don’t know when this started or why, but I just can’t take mixed bites of food.  I need to finish one item, cleanse my pallette, and begin again.
5. I twitch (MAJORLY) as I’m falling asleep.  Bryan says I fight him off of me, which is weird because I love to fall asleep on his chest.  But, apparently, I get fairly violent.
6. I worked in radio for three years.  I went by the names Diva, Madison, Sydney, and Trinity.  Yes, it was a lot of fun when I was 18, and yes I partially miss it from time to time.. but all in all, it was a phase.
7. In that same vein, I was on the air the day of 9/11.  I never thought this fact was extraordinary or even interesting until I mentioned it to someone in passing, and they asked me to dole out all of the details.  It was, perhaps, the only way I got through that day.

I’ve kind of gotten away from these weekly updates, and if you’re absolutely lost without them, I apologize. (And please seek help.) I head to the doc tomorrow for a brief check-up, but the NEXT visit is the one I’m looking forward to: we’ll learn the gender sometime mid-July.  I need SOMETHING to be motivate me at this point, and gender is as good as anything else.

We can also choose a name when we have a gender.

So, anyway, life at 16 weeks is a lot like life at 15 weeks, honestly.  The exhaustion comes and goes, but what I’ve noticed more is the immediate fatigue.  For instance, I run out of breath walking up stairs.  Not tired, but out of breath.  So, often, I’m walking around, gasping.

All of that gasping has to go SOMEWHERE, and that’s been the most fun development of 16 weeks.  I poot.  A lot.  And it’s not even like one of those gastric blasts that you feel coming (because I am a master clencher when it comes to stifling those).  No, these sneak up (out?) on you.  While you’re walking.  IN PUBLIC.  Bryan says it only gets worse, which is making me contemplate stuffing some sort of plug up there to ease my suffering.  Global warming doesn’t need any more pregnant farting women.

I haven’t felt the baby yet, or maybe I have and I’ve confused it for gas, and that’s kinda bumming me out.  Bryan put his hand on my tummy in Knoxville and said, “OH!  I felt the baby move!”

Of course, he was totally kidding, but I reared back and smacked him on the arm.  How dare the baby kick for him and not me? (Dur, Sarah.)

And that’s about it for 16 weeks.  My baby is the size of an avocado (which is how we have to judge the size.. I only know food), and now has all sorts of cool toys in there.  I am currently trying to figure out what shows next season need an infant in them, because my baby will be the ULTIMATE stage whore.