It feels kind of wrong to be here, like I fell asleep and woke up 8 years ago...

One of my very first SG blogs was about a drunken lesbian mini-orgy (or pseudo-orgy, whatever term means less than a full blown orgy) I had the crazy good luck to have been a part of. My, how the times have changed.

I used to spend too much time trying to figure out how to get hot chicks into bed. Now I spend too much time trying to figure out how to get my one little chick to go to bed. My daughter did not get the memo that babies are supposed to sleep a lot.

My sexy, big city days are over with, it seems. And while, on occasion, I miss San Francisco, the friends I made there, and the carefree, sometimes wild, times I had, I am, for the most part, very happy with where life has led me.

We've moved (back) "home," to the suburb smack dab in the middle of California where I grew up. Here, we (myself and the five-ever love of my life, Tony) have an awesome house, an amazing daughter, 2 adequate dogs and 2 (insert "a" adjective here) cats. We have a normal, boring, perfect life.

And, before I have the chance to add anything interesting, I've gotta run to work.

So, how are you?!

Well, it looks like I've been finally sucked back in.

Many, many thanks to the anonymous benefactor who reactivated my account for me. That was very generous.

I will be around for a proper update in a bit, and to figure out how they run things around here these days, probably tomorrow. For now, I just wanted to jump on, say thanks and hi to all my old friends who are still around. I'm looking forward to catching up.

So, after standing around for several minutes hugging and going "What do we do now?" we decided we needed a plan. We knew this wasn't like being married; this wasn't a secret we could keep. Previous to actually being pregnant, Tony had made an offhand comment about when I got pregnant, we'd buy and eat brie and french bread. That seemed as good a place to start as any. We headed off to the grocery store, with a stop first at the used bookstore, to pick us up a small stack of baby books, and then to get our cheese and bread, and some cookie dough. All the while, we're calling our family, trying to get them to come over so we can tell them in person.

Tony called his mom, under the guise of us having a get together for our friends newly home from the military BucRogers and Chris. She said she wasn't feeling well. He asked if there was anyway she could come out. Her next words-"Is Tiffany pregnant?!!?" Tony-"Um, hooooollldd on..." He covered the mouth piece and started whisper yelling at me "She guessed! She guessed! What do I say?!" By the time he got back on the phone, she was already shrieking with joy.

I called my mom, and told her to come over, I was making cookies. She said she'd be over in an hour or so. I suggested strongly she should come over now. "Why, what's going on?" "Nothing, just come over." "No, Tiffany tell me." "I love you, see you soon, bye!" No way was I going to tell her over the phone.

My mom beat us to our own house by a few minutes, and got all teary when I told her. "I knew it! I kept telling myself not to get your hopes up, but I knew it!"

My sister was, by far, the easiest to convince to come over, as we were on her list of errands on Saturday. I wish I had a camera, especially for her reaction. She screamed for several seconds, and then burst into happy tears, and then hugged everyone within reach. It was quite awesome. And then she proceeded to tell everyone she knew that I would allow.

My sister then called and woke my brother up, and told him he needed to come pick up my mom, because her car died. He moaned and groaned and got his lazy ass over here. He was going to stay in the car, but I lured him out with cookie dough. As he walked into the house, I told him, "Amber lied to you, Mommy's car is fine." Before he could finish saying "What the fuck?", I added, "But I am pregnant." And his eyes and smile got big, and he said "Nuh-uh!" And there were more hugs.

After much convincing, Tony's dad, and his dad's best friend came by, but unfortunately, didn't bring his step-mom, so we didn't get to tell her in person. Tony's dad was thrilled, and told us a few times what great parents we will be. We know. Now Jerry gets to join the elite Fat Grandpas.

And that was just the first hour. We were thrilled to be able to share our news with lots of our close family and friends, and you'll have to excuse me if I don't describe anymore in detail, or we'd be here all day (except to say that I think Aunt Pam was rather disappointed I didn't bake cookies), and I've rambled on enough. Almost.

All the internet sources estimate my due date at May 1, so looks like we'll be planning on a late spring baby. I'm thrilled not to be all huge and miserable during this kind of heat next year. Our first dr. visit is a group prenatal class on Sept. 19, so hopefully shortly after that we'll get some more concrete news.

No morning sickness yet, hooray. Just the ridiculously sore boobies, fatigue and occasional homocidal mood swings That's your only warning.

That's right, we're having a baby. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I still don't believe it, but regardless, we're crazy giddy right now.

I have only been off the pill for a month, and we never expected it to happen this fast. I thought it might take several months for my body to get rid of all those contraceptive hormones, and even then, I've always been a little paranoid that I might have the same trouble conceiving my mom had with me (they were almost to the point of adoption when I finally decided to show up).

We had bought several Dollar Store pregnancy tests with the idea that whenever there might be the opportunity for me to drink, I'd take a test to make sure I was in the clear. I had taken one last Tuesday that came up negative, as I expected it to. So, on Saturday (August 25), Buc and Chris were coming out to visit, and there was definitely the possibility of imbibing, so I thought I'd take another test just to confirm what I already knew, that I wasn't pregnant. I mean, I had(have) the typical PMS sore boobies, and my period being 2 days late didn't phase me, since last time I stopped taking the pill, my periods got all wacky.

So, while my Pirate's Eye was cooking on the stove, I called Tony back to check the test with me, because we do all that kinda crap together. Therefore, it was at the same time we noticed there were not one, but 2 pink lines on that $1 test. I burst into nervous giggles, and Tony insisted I take another test (which I was going to anyway). And for the first time in my life, I didn't need to pee. "Go now! Go now!" "I can't go when you yell at me!!!!" A chugged cup of water and 3 minutes later, that second little test had the same 2 pink lines.

Two dollars worth of pregnancy tests weren't enough to convince me I was preggo, so we decided to go to Target to get a pricey, digital read-out kind. Between the tears and hugs, we somehow managed to make it there and home, while I chugged another bottle of water. Approximately the only thing my mind was able to produce at that point was a constant string of "Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap..."

And, of course, that third test said the same as the first 2. But a little more clearly and real-instead of 2 pink lines, it said, simply, "Pregnant."

To be continued it Part 2, the Announcing. (All of a sudden, as is very common these days, I'm very, very tired.)

I know I neglect this area so much lately (lately being the past 2 years or so), but I need to write this somewhere, and since it's not general public knowledge yet, this seems like the place to do it.

I'm pregnant. Holy shit. (Intentionally)

I have a new passion. If you've talked to me in the past week or so, you know, because I can't help but blather on about it. And so you can understand how excited I am about my new pursuit: I am looking forward to waking up early tomorrow. Me. Okay with waking up. Early. On a Saturday. And I'm not even getting paid to do it! Do you even understand how antithetical these concepts are? I adore my sleep. I crave it. To say that I'm a grumpy puppy in the morning would be a drastic understatement. But here I am, looking forward to being up bright and early tomorrow morning.

And the reason I am so excited to be up tomorrow morning is that Tony and I will be going running with the Fat Boys (the Fat Boys being the running group Tony and his dad have ran with for years). I know, I know, some of you think you have the wrong blog at this point. Waking up early and running?!?!! Who is this crazy person and what have they done with Tiffany? But I assure you, you're in the right place. I, Tiffany, have become moderately obessesed with fitness, running in particular. I'm not good at it, and stand no chance at an sort of comparative impressive showing at the races I'll be participating in in the next few months, but the personal thrill is exhilarating. I remember 2.5 years ago, jogging a mile and then spending the next 20 minutes on the couch, certain I was having an asthma attack. Compared to last Saturday, when I ran a slow but steady 6.67 miles, I feel that I have come a long way. Every step ran further or easier than the last is a tiny victory, and it feels great.

Now I have goals and gadgets (my Nano to hook up to my new Nike+ Sports Kit arrives Monday (hopefully), and I'm way excited about the idea of solid tracking and graphing of my progress), and I feel like I'm well on my way to being able to classify myself as a runner, and the idea thrills me. I've never excelled at a sport, and the possibility of maybe having found one that I can work at is exciting. I'm learning a whole new language of pace and RPE and hill training. I'm acheiving PRs left and right this early in the game. Next Sunday is my first official race that I will run, the Spear-it 5K at the Stockton Asparagus Festival. And I am very much looking forward to beating my very meager goal of finishing the race in less than 30 minutes.

And even better is that this is an interest that Tony shares. More accurately, this was his hobby I have copycatted him on. The idea of running with him was excellent motivation, and he has been so amazingly supportive and my #1 cheerleader. And I know already he must be tired of hearing how far I ran today, or what race I want to do next, but he never waivers, and that is reason #539 why I love him so very much.

The following is the letter that was, and still is, being delivered to our family and friends, beginning with our moms on last Sunday.

Infinite thanks to TigerAngel for taking the pictures for us. Everyone loved them.

Tiffany and Tony's Getting Married Story

"I have to speculate that God himself has made us into corresponding shapes, like puzzle pieces from the clay."
~"Such Great Heights," The Postal Service

On May 12, 2006, Tiffany Donae and Anthony Joseph eloped to Pacific Grove, California, in a private ceremony attended by, well, no one.
The ceremony took place just before sunset on a secluded beach in Pacific Grove. The processional song was "Question" by Rhett Miller, and the ceremony was presided over by Reverend Mary Cavaliere. The bride wore a fabulous hot pink, sparkly dress she got from JCPenney's at 75% off, and the groom wore a handsome outfit the couple picked out from Target earlier that day. In true hippie tradition, they went barefoot. The couple exchanged vows they had written themselves (quietly, as the bride had practically no voice), and pledged their love in a Ceremony of Roses. In lieu of rings, they exchanged necklaces as a symbol of their commitment. Following the ceremony, the couple danced their first dance as husband and wife on the beach, to Bright Eye's "First Day of My Life."
Then they ate Elopement Cake from the car. They had their wedding dinner at El Toritos in Monterey, on the pier, and honeymooned, briefly, at Pacific Grove's Lighthouse Inn.
The following day, the couple made an addition to their brand-new, "official" family in the form of Peanut the Puppy.

I feel I need a disclaimer here. I love getting comments, I really do. I appreciate them all. I'm just totally shitty about repsonding to them. I'll try to get better, I promise.

The boy and I just got back from Jamaica, where we had an amazing time, despite me having an unhappy tummy for most of the week with no apparent reason (although it's been acknowledged all around there's a slight possibility I'm pregnant). I did my very best to tough it out, but it did definitely mean there were a few things I would have liked to do that we didn't get a chance to.

Anyway, we stayed at a resort called Hedonism III, which was pretty cool. It's an all-inclusive resort with 3 sections, nude, prude, and clothing-optional. Tony and I stayed mostly on the nude side, and I miss it. The resort put on little audience participation entertainment thingies everyday, like a game called "Find Your Mate" where they blind-folded the guys and they had to guess which girl was theirs by grabbing asses, and Body Shots, where they had you sit up on the bar and literally poured booze down the front of you for your honey to lick off. Good times. Tony and I were defintely in the minority, age-wise, but that didn't really detract from the experience.

We got to do a lot of fun, new activities, like go scuba-diving, which was just amazing. The water was warm, and we got to explore the Reef, and the fish are just everywhere, and they are just the most brilliant colors. We also went kayaking, and learned that neither of us are currently any good at water-skiing. I got to go on the trapeze, which was an awesome experience. Way less scary than I thought it was going to be. It's definitely something I'd like to do again.

I also saw some exciting sights. For example, my very first night there I saw a scorpian, right by the bar, less than a foot from me. A little one, like 2 inches long, but a scorpian all the same. And yes, my fear of spiders extends to all arachnids. I was more than a little freaked out, and worried that they were commonplace around there, but, fortunately, that was the first and last one I saw. There were also lightening storms across the ocean at night, which were gorgeous.


And the sex, oh, the sex.

It was a fabulous time all around. Nothing makes me happier than being with this boy, regardless of what we're doing. He just brings me such unrivaled, unconditional joy.

Oh, and in other happy news, I sent in an SG app last night, and was met with this response this morning- "You look perfect for our site, and you've now passed the first stage of the application process." So that's cool.

"Who gave you a fine-tooth comb,
To judge your every move,
Before you even started
To make one?
Hey girl, it's a beautiful day for flying,
Don't you wanna open your eyes?"

"There's nothing wrong with me
This is how I'm supposed to be."

Excuse the extreme emo-ness of my opening there.

Big news for me, I guess. I just hit 100 pounds on my weight loss. 102.6 to be exact. While, on one hand, I'm mildly proud of myself for having acheived this goal, this has taken almost 2 years. I'm not saying that's it's taken me too long or anything, it's just that it's been so gradual. I've been thrilled with my success everyday I continue to be successful, and while 100 punds is a big number, it's kinda just another number at this point.

I'm not sure how I feel about people bringing it up in crowds. I'm not particularly proud of the fact that I used to weigh 102 pounds more than I do now, and it makes me mildly uncomfortable when people talk about my weight loss in public. A lot of the people I see most often have only known me over the last 50 pounds or so, so they never knew the really fat Tiffany. Hell, the other day, Tony noticed some before and after pictures I had made a while back to post in the Weight Loss group, and I wouldn't let him look at them. I'm not gonna censor othe pictures he might happen to see at my mom's house or whatever, but those just aren't things I'm particularly comfortable sharing. Not that I think he'll think any less of me, I just don't like it.

My biggest disappointment is that it seems to becoming clear that I'll never have the body I really want without surgery. I look fine in clothes (hell, I look good, dammit ), but naked my tummy still has that funny little pooch thing I've always hated. With every pound, I've been praying that would be the next to go. It's a smaller pooch, but it's still there, hanging over my belly button and I hate it. Also, I have what I consider gross amounts of excess skin on my boobs, and some on my tummy. Doing this weight loss thing the slow and smart way was supposed to minimize that. Apparently somebody forgot to tell my body. I hate that after all this work I'm not completely thrilled with the outcome. And I hate that even if I had the money lying around, I couldn't/wouldn't run out and get the surgery to lift my tits and get rid of that stupid skin, because there are most definitely children in our future, and then it's all gonna get stretched out again anyway. /sigh

I mean, yay me! 100 pounds! (I certainly don't regret having lost all this weight. I love shopping now, and I love the way I look in all those clothes I can finally fit into. I feel cute when I go out practically constantly. But I write better about the negatives. )