may 3, 2003. This is getting out of hand: staff members whom I barely know are stopping me to congratulate me. Obviously my incessant blabbings in the cafeteria are attracting attention. And this, my friends, is why I'll never be a secret international agent. Speaking of which, I had a dream about Poet coming to visit that was so vivid I could smell cologne. I woke up with a happy, contented feeling...not since my wedding have I done anything that (most of) my friends so thoroughly approve of. And it was an accident! Or as Hectate the midwife said on Thursday, we weren't trying to have a baby...but we weren't not trying to have a baby. Since my beloved fried foods are giving me indigestion now, I've resolved to go a week between servings of French - excuse me, in deference to my American readers - freedom fries. (Aside: since my country's apparently been tarred with the same traitor brush, is Canadian bacon now called, um, Liberty bacon? Correct measure of force bacon? Conqueror's bacon? (Sorry. Got a bit snarky there.)) This, of course, builds a new measure of longing into my life that distracts me from the fact that I'm nauseous from 5 p.m. till I fall asleep. It also makes me shudder with joy whenever a hot carton of chips is in front of my face. Mmmm...freedom. Last bit before I move on: I've updated the cast list with a few new faces as well as the yet-to-be-determined face of the Sprout. (You should read that little write up before going any further, otherwise the next bit won't make any sense.) I kind of enjoy playing with people's deepest fears about homosexuality - I've found that people who are normally very well adjusted to homosexuality freak right out when I tell them that I'm planning to dress my child in all the clothes I get, including ruffly dresses on boys and sports outfits on girls. (And the ones who are already homophobic look like their heads will explode.) I mean, get real - we all know that children take their first cues from their parents, and then society - I don't think my bit of fuckery will undo millennia worth of systemic homophobia/heterosexism. Or as I said to Morgan, I don't thick the Sprout will be hitting the Oak Leaf Steam Bath just because he wears a pink dress once in awhile. And if he does, that's fine too...I can drop him off on the way to the Garden. Yesterday we went to see X-Men 2. I'd like to say that I had a great time, but it was a late show and I fell asleep before the climax. I've never fallen asleep in a movie theatre before - I don't know if it has to do with pregnancy or my iron-clad "early to bed, early to rise" daily schedule. In any case, it wasn't a pleasant nap; I woke up cranky and longing for bed, which always makes for a fun ride home. From what I saw, I enjoyed German Catholic Nightcrawler (although, as the Boy pointed out, he really should've been Lutheran), Wolverine's flamboyant duck's ass hair (for which, no explanation is ever offered except that he's from Canada. The hell?!), and speculating on who Mystique becomes in bed with Magneto (we're pretty sure it's Professor X). I didn't like that they changed the Jean Grey actress from a squarely-built Watchmen-esque lady to another Hollywood sylph, and I didn't like the new Rogue. Within the first five minutes, I had re-written the opening monologue to the simple, yet powerful: Man has always loved his mutants. But what happens when the mutants say, 'no more'? And then, of course, I fell asleep. 5 years ago today: dancing barefoot in the garden