Threes

Good things come in threes, right?

No, this isn't an announcement that we're having triplets. Nor will it turn into a retelling of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, The Three Little Pigs, or Three Blind Mice.

It is simply to say -- to acknowledge -- to revel in the fact that -- I've blogged for three days in a row.

To some, this is an accomplishment not worth mentioning. To me, it's hope that I will continue this pattern.

Cheers to threes.

It's going to happen.

Even if I really have nothing to say, I'm going to blog two days in a row. You know why? I like blogging. Contrary to popular belief, it's not a chore -- even if I sometimes make it sound that way. There is something very freeing about putting finger to keypad to type out some thoughts. And as I type right now, I'm remember a cute little story about my baby girl that happened just yesterday.

I was sitting on the couch (not feeling great -- par for the course) and we were all getting ready to go to Grandma and Grandpa's house for dinner. I had just helped her put her shoes on, and she decided I needed to put my shoes on. There were four or five pairs sitting in the entryway, and she went over to pick one out. I was so curious to see which ones she'd pick, and if she'd even get a matching pair.

So, what does she grab? The fanciest shoes in the pile. The red high heels. The other options were all brown or black casual shoes. She proudly sets up the red shoes and points to them and says, "Mom!"

From this experience, I have determined:
1) My child has good fashion sense.
2) My child may be more outgoing than I originally thought. (I mean, red is a pretty outgoing color.)
3) My child is cute. Really cute. (I already knew this, though.)

(For the record, I didn't wear the red shoes. I asked her to get me a different pair. She went for a cute pair of black ballet flats. Still good taste. :)

It's hard to blog...

When you don't have anything to blog about.

The thing about pregnancy, for me, is that it's all-consuming. There are few moments in my day when my main thoughts don't revolve around, "Don't throw up. Don't throw up. Don't throw up."

Bert has become accustomed to me speaking in short, direct, two word sentences. "Love you." "I'm sorry." "Food please." "Drink please." "Hate you." (Just kidding on that last one... most of the time.)

The weird thing for me is that I can't read books outloud to my daughter without getting gaggy. I don't know what it is, but reading two sentences sends me heaving. "One fish, two fish, red fish, *barf." My sentences to her consist of "Love you." "I'm sorry." "Gimme kiss."

Siblings in far away places (Oregon), I still love you. I just can't talk on the phone. Text messaging is my preferred mode of communication.

Some may find my silence a blessing. I'm just ready to be able to be my normal, chatty self again. Isn't everyone?

Mark your calendars!

Friends, I've been lacking in creativity and motivation. I feel like I'm in a season of life where I'm being humbled. I think it's a good thing, but it's incredibly difficult to walk through at the time. All in all, and not to sound cheesy, but I think it's helping know where my identity lies and what is important in life. I have so many blessings (my hot husband, for one -- and a gorgeous daughter, for two), and I'm learning work is just that -- work. Sometimes fulfilling, sometimes disappointing -- but not where I'm going to stake my value.

With that in mind, I'm excited to announce that we're adding baby #2 to the family mix! I'm due Dec. 15-ish. So far, I'm feeling crappy, but much better than I did when I was pregnant with Baby Briese #1.

Bert and I can only seem to come up with boy names -- is that a sign? With our first, we could only come up with girl names. Interesting.

And to my friend John -- congrats on your baby boy!!! He's beautiful (and he's still young enough that I won't offend his manliness by saying so), and you and your bride are going to be awesome parents.

Yay for new life.

Food, glorious food

If my figure is ever going to decrease, I'm going to need Bert to stop making bread.

So deliciously, gloriously wonderful. Carbs are my weakness.

He's not just a pretty face...

... though that can often be the assumption.

The first time I met Bert, we were in a larger social group. We attended the British Advertising Awards at the Walker Art Center, and I don't think Bert said more that four sentences -- and those were the result of direct questions pointed at him. "What's your name?" "Where do you live?" "What do you do?" Each received a short, accurate reply.

The next encounter with Bert occurred when he came over to my apartment to have dinner with me and my roommate. He arrived before my roommate, so for a few awkward minutes I was stuck conversing with this very quiet fellow. Luckily, I walk the line of over-sharing (and sometimes I run right across that line), so I was able to have an enjoyable conversation and we discovered we had quite a bit in common.

As our relationship grew, and eventually we married, I learned something about Bert: he's smart, witty and charming. He just doesn't let everyone know it.

During our dating relationship, when we would drive away, I would get glimpses of Bert's brilliance. He'd make comments about the conversation that was had. Sometimes the comments were funny, sometimes they expressed his strong opinions, and sometimes they would have added great depth to the conversation.

After we got married, these comments would become more frequent, and sometimes he'd even wake up in the middle of the night with a comment or two he'd forgotten to tell me during our recap of dinners with family or friends.

I love getting to witness the "inside scoop" of Bert's mind. There is a downside, though. I find Bert's comments so fascinating, that I will sometimes try to recreate them when we're engaging in public conversation. If a topic comes up, it's not unusual for me to say, "Oh, yes. I've heard about that. Though Bert says that's crazy. Right, Bert?" Cue Bert. Bert looks at me, nods his head, and doesn't open his mouth. Darn husbands.

I guess his brilliance will be left to those of us who know him best.

Trader Joe's - an addendum

While on a recent excursion for a work conference for me, Bert's sister took him to Trader Joe's to try to show him the finer things of the store.

They returned, armed with JoJo's, gingerbread men, potstickers and a couple of other delights. (Since I was not there, I wasn't able to pick up the items you readers suggested -- but given the quality of the JoJo's, I may be making another trip to Trader Joe's myself, where I will certainly get some of the loot you've recommended.)

I am willing to say that perhaps I was too harsh on TJ's. I am definitely willing to say that I will give the store another shot. I'll just make sure it's in the middle of the day during the week -- not on a weekend where the crowds mimic IKEA on Saturday morning.