Brokeback Mountain was not a good choice of movies for the pregnant, with its aching soundtrack and sad longing love story. Since becoming pregnant I have cried during two Lost episodes and Armageddon, however I did not think this highly unusual because have also cried during Spiderman I (Peter and Mary Jane not being together), the last X-Men (Dr. Jean Gray dying) and during Independence Day (the President's speech). A sap am I, this I know. However, I first watched Brokeback Mountain this summer while in Brooklyn, and it did move me to the point of tears, but if I was to gage it on weepy to full out bawl - it would have ranked a 5. So, I figured I'd have myself a nice little cry, and be a-okay. But last night, the tears started with Jack Twist dying, and ended 20 minutes after I shut the movie off. Full out bawl times 1000. It was that sort of cry that leaves you wasted, wherein your entire body shakes and you can't catch your breath, and you start coughing and throwing up phlegm because you have the worst allergies this side of nerd. I have learned now that under no circumstances am I to watch any movie that will move the normal to tears. For with me it will be doubly effective and cause great emotional upheaval. So no Terms of Endearment, no Champ, no Gone with the Wind, no Milo and Otis, for my heart (and hormones) just can't take it.

So I can finally unveil the reason my postings of late have been haphazard and neglectful. Drum roll please . . . I am eleven weeks knocked up. In fact, today is the day in which the little bean within my belly is officially a fetus. Those familiar with my exercises in alcoholism should be pleased to know that I am also almost three months sober. So yes, it could be done. However, I fear that my sailor level of tolerance will be whittled to teenage girl at a kegger by the time I get reacquainted with the demon. I can't wait until 2008! So, I think in this blog, I would like to focus on the daily happenings of my pregnant life. And today I would like to discuss with the masses (all three of them) morning sickness. Luckily, I have seen little of this curse, but when we do meet, it makes for an occasion. My only comparison, not surprisingly, is when you are deathly hung-over, and you have that bile taste in your mouth with no ability to vomit. You just keep on swallowing praying for it to pass. Except in my case I have nary a drop to drink and it hits at odd times - but mostly 10:30 to 11:30 a.m., or 45 minutes after a meal, or when I eat pineapple. And yes, I don't eat pineapple anymore since discovering this. But other than that, all is well, other than finding substitutes for booze - for we all know, it makes the good times better and the bad times bearable. Cheers.

Last Friday I went to the Giants/Dodgers game. Which is the West Coast equivalent to the Sox/Yanks rivalry. At least that is what is contended. And although there were boos, and heckles of the fans in blue and white, the following taunt is what differs the East Coast from the West Coast. Said by a Giants fan to a Dodgers fan - "Well, our weed is much better than your dank chronic." Yep, California.