Spontaniouse

is a name of one of the girls on this season of America's Next Top Model.
Isn't that reason enough to watch?

Oh wait, she just got kicked off. Never mind.

I hoped this day would never come

I'm about to write something about American Idol. This is where I might say "don't judge me" but I know you already have. It's okay, I'm now at peace with my heartfelt devotion for reality TV.

Everyone and their mother has already posted something about this girl. But in case you didn't catch it, young Ferl had a 13 year old moment (or half hour) while her favorite idols attempted to rock out. She sobbed uncontrollably as some of the worst performances ever took place. And the producers of Idol ate it up. The first time they showed her I looked over at Alex we started laughing. The second time they caught her on camera I still had a grin on my face. The third time brought a little sympathy. By the tenth time I was irritated and welcoming back memories of how painful it was to be 13. I remembered being boggled by hormones and unable to fight the urge to purchase magazines, even if they were Japanese, just because there was an extra sassy photo of John Taylor in there. Like most emotionally unstable teenage girls, my obsessions were frenzied and almost painful. I don't regret that time in my life, I know the infatuations I experienced were part of growing up. I might even label them the threshold into some of my best dysfunctional relationships. I had many a moment like uber-Idol-fan Fern, luckily for me it was semi-private. I was able to sit in the dark, back row of the Orpheum clasping my hands together, wondering if Roland Orzabal would notice me. It was a personal experience as I stood on the arms of the stadium chair, tasting my own salty tears while wondering if Andrew Ridgeley would make a good husband. I feel awkward enough sharing some of my memories here, without the photos of my greasy hair and videos of my retainer induced speech impediment.

Will young Fern ever be able to live it down? She may not be embarrassed about it now, she's just stoked she got a squeeze from Sanjaya, but what about 10 years from now? Take heart, Fern, you're in good company. Luckily, because of things like this, it's very in vogue now to share your most embarrassing moments. Give it about 15 years and you could be the next Mortified Idol.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

He needs a few more beers before he really kicks up his heels.

Photo Sharing - Upload Video - Video Sharing - Share Photos

Friday

Now that I'm back at work I realize that I sometimes need a break from the exciting world of spreadsheets and invoices. Aside from the distraction provided by the construction which sounds like a giant dentist's drill on the other side of the wall and prohibits me from making phone calls, I have found this. I can't get enough of it.

post partum predicament

Since I'm going back to work in two weeks I thought it might be a good idea for me to buy some new clothes; I still don't fit into my pre-pregnancy stuff and as comfortable as maternity clothes are I can't reasonably wear them any longer without feeling like a crazy person. To allow me to shop for a new wardrobe, Alex took Cole all day on Monday and I headed into the city for some retail therapy. I had a spring in my step while walking to the BART station, not only because it was a welcome break from Cole, but I was hopeful that I was about to purchase some fabulous new frocks that would make me feel good about myself. My bliss only lasted for about 45 minutes, which is precisely how long it took me to get into San Francisco find a store of my liking and try on my first pair of pants.

The trouble with shopping for clothes with a waistline of an anamorphic blob is that I had no idea what size I was. I was forced to bring 8 pairs of pants into the dressing room with me, that was a chore in itself, never mind actually trying them all on. The good part and time saving moment came when the first pair of pants I tried on miraculously fit. The bad thing was that those very pants were supposed to be the self esteem boost; I brought them in there because I was sure I would be swimming in them and I could feel like Jared from Subway. Alas, I am still a "before."

The rest of the trip was not very successful. After four and a half hours of torture I ended up with 2 pairs of pants, a big sweater and a very cute hat for Cole . Nary a shirt in the shopping center fit the way I needed it to. I guess I'll have to give it a couple more months. Until then my coworkers might have to endure my yoga pants (which can walk around on their own at this point) and over sized sweatshirts.

back in the saddle

Now that Cole is almost 3 months old I'm finding time to do things for myself. Things like taking showers, cutting my fingernails and using my computer. Hey, I remember how to type! These nimble fingers can do more than change diapers and snap onesies.

Motherhood is much tougher than I thought it would be. Not just the sleep deprivation but the anxiety that comes along with realizing I'm responsible for a very small human being who came into this world without an instruction book.

Breastfeeding was rough, Cole and I gave it the old college try, but we just couldn't hack it as a feeding/eating team. He ended up losing weight and I ended up with mastitis... 3 times in 10 weeks. It was miserable. So now I pump a couple times a day and we make up the extra with formula. The formula is where Alex got to jump in as super-dad to do price and ingredient comparisons. His findings were that the Kirkland (a.k.a. Costco) brand is pretty darn close to Enfamil and Similac in the nutrition department but costs half as much. Talk about your bargain shopping. I was really resistant to the idea of formula, but without it I would have a starving baby and I would have had to continue spending more time bonding with my Medela breast pump than my son. And as it turns out that giving Cole formula was not the end of the world. Imagine that. I did find some creative ways to use my Medela accessories after I stopped pumping a million times a day. For example: the breast shield is a great funnel for getting the formula into the bottle.And the storage bottles for breast milk are super for transporting pre-measured amounts of formula when we go on outings. The best thing about the storage bottles are that they say things on the side like "Breastfeeding is baby's best start" "Breastfeeding: from mother with love" "Breastfeeding: nature's perfect food" "Mother's milk is #1" and my personal favorite to fill with powdered formula, "Contents: 100% Breastmilk." I think I might give the LaLeche League a collective heart attack.

One of the biggest lessons I've learned since having a baby is that it's crucial to be flexible and to understand that as a parent I have to roll with the punches and do what works best, no matter what preconceived ideas I may have had. I laugh now when I think about how I was convinced I would have a natural childbirth, then I downgraded it to "okay, maybe I'll take the epidural" and when it came right down to it I had an epidural as well as tons of narcotics. Being a parent has forced me to live in the moment like I never have before. There aren't enough books in the universe to prepare anyone for an infant, you just have to do what you have to do. It felt scary to me for the first 8 weeks and now I'm finally getting the hang of this mommy thing. Which is ironic because I go back to work in 3 weeks.

What kind of mother would I be if I didn't end this post with a picture of my super-smart-extra-cute-amazingly-strong baby?

37 weeks

The good news is I'm so close. The bad news is the doctor just told me I need to up my dosage of blood thinners, I'm up to 3 full syringes a day. I hope I can avoid any knife fights for the next few weeks.

only 5 more weeks

give or take...Alex is convinced the baby will be born October 17 and I tend to think that we'll be looking at November 5. Either way I'm very excited and looking forward to meeting the little fellow.

fun with photos

I'm starting to get to the major fatigue part of my pregnancy. Due to heartburn, excruciating groin pain and residual scabies scratching I usually wake up at 1:30 am and don't get back to sleep until 5 or 6. I used to just lie there in bed and think about how miserable I was. Sometimes I would selfishly whine just enough to make sure that I had company during my pity party, but Alex is very adaptable and quickly learned how to tune out my whimpering so he could remain in his state of deep sleep. It took me a few weeks, but I finally realized if I actually got out of the bed I would probably feel better and maybe have a fighting chance at sanity.

During the wee hours of the morning I've found a bevy of things to do:

Project Cat is been something I've been working on for awhile, I force the cats together and see if they'll actually get along. It was going okay until the other day, Irene now has an injury on her face. (not my fault, I swear)

I think I've hit my limit on Sudoku, I finished one book right after I got out of the hospital and I'm almost done with a second.

I can tell you all about the Magic Bullet, because that infomercial is always on.

Entertainment Weekly is an easy and quick read, while Seed doesn't really do it for me like it does for Alex.

What To Expect When Your Expecting may be the worst pregnancy book ever written. I figured this out about 7 months ago when I was about 10 pages into it, but now I just read it so I can roll my eyes and say things like "oh, come on, that's ridiculous" while I get cynical and bitter and feel bad for women who consider this book useful.

Then of course there's the internet. I have my regular sites that I visit, but one of my favorite things to do while I'm wasting time on the old laptop is to peruse through other people's photos on Flickr. I have a couple of different methods of how I browse, sometimes I search the tags for obscure keywords or look in the groups section for interesting titles (such as "the hidden charm of flea markets" or "what's in your fridge?"). But my new favorite way is to go to into the Explore section and look at the pictures labeled "most recent uploads." Usually I find at least one thing worth clicking on in those thumbnails. Once I find a photo I dig on I check out that person's profile and maybe check out some more of their photos or their favorites. After I've seen enough from them I pick a contact from their list and check out those photos, and so on. I've found some pretty crazy pictures, but a little while ago I found this. At first I thought it was some sort of art project, because every single one of Kulhanek K's photos are of someone covered with a scarves. Once I checked out his contacts, it dawned on me that this is no art project, it's a fetish. I felt so naive. Of course I had to check out more than one of his contacts, you know, to confirm that my suspicions were correct, and now I wish I never had. Go ahead and delve in further, if you dare. But I'll warn you right now that there are a lot of unattractive and slightly overweight, yet under-dressed, Midwesterners who seem to enjoy scarves in more ways than I ever thought were possible.

Because I went overboard and had already tainted my psyche forever with Kulhanek K's contacts photos I took that extra step and searched through tags of things I knew would end up somewhere unsavory. Like, say, for instance, badonkadonk. And lo and behold, I found beauties such as this, this and this.

I will end this post with a plea: Please don't judge me, it's the fatigue.

cooties

Obviously Alex and I are incapable of staying healthy for more than a few weeks at time and unfortunately it seems to be the only subject that keeps me posting stuff here. I was a little reluctant to write about this one, only because it's not something one would usually announce in a public way, but I have no secrets anymore, at least not after peeing my bed in the hospital.

While I was in the hospital last month Alex started showing signs of a rash on his belly. We both agreed that it was caused by stress, after all, he had just gotten out of the hospital himself and there I was 27 weeks pregnant and whining about being stuck in a bed. Weeks passed, I got better, but the rash persisted. In fact, it got worse, so bad that Alex would smear himself with Calamine lotion every night and then lie in bed diligently trying not to scratch, or even move, for fear of rash vengeance. When I would wake up in the middle of the night I would catch Alex scratching in his sleep. It was when the rash started taking over his ears and the webby parts between his fingers that he finally gave in and went to the doctor. That was on Wednesday at 7:15 in the morning, which meant that before I was even done with my coffee I was treated to the news of his delightful diagnosis.

Here's where I play a game with you, I'll give you a hint and you can guess what caused his rash.

Are you ready?

It's really, really small and it rhymes with babies. Did you guess?

That's right, it's scabies!

I can't remember my exact thoughts when Alex told me what it was, but do recall thinking "Who the hell gets scabies?" Alex even said "What is this? 1824? No one gets scabies anymore." But it turns out a lot of people get scabies, as a matter of fact there are about 300 million cases reported worldwide every year. I was just hoping we would not be two of them. I didn't even have a rash at that point, just a little mysterious itching, but if you live with someone with scabies it means you probably have scabies, too. Fun!

To get rid of the mites Alex and I had to apply a cream to our entire bodies and leave it on overnight. We proceeded to do eight washes of linens and clothes, vacuum the entire apartment, including the furniture all while scratching a lot. The bummer about it all is that after completing all this I read the box of bug killing cream and it says that even after the mites are gone itching can last for up to four weeks afterwards. So now I have no idea if I'm just scratching because I know that these mites were a part of me and I can't get past that, if this is just a normal part of the four weeks of itching after the treatment or if these bugs are still hanging out in my skin and I have to start the whole process again. What I do know is not only am I tired of getting up to pee every 2 hours because the baby is taking up the space where my bladder used to be, but the addition of this persistent scratching isn't helping my sleep quota.

The only good thing about this whole scabies crisis is that I think once we get it licked this time we'll hopefully have it licked for good. I assume this because when Alex got home from the doctor's on Wednesday he let me know "Well, that's it, this decided it for me... no more hobo sex."

thrombophilia

Or as I like to call it, unfortunate illness #731.

On the night of August 1 I landed myself a 9 day stay in the beautiful Alta Bates hospital ante-partum unit. Alex and I were having dinner with friends at Greg and Brad's apartment and right before I was ready to dig into my peanut butter cup ice cream I stood up to illustrate a point of the story I was telling and noticed that my left leg felt wrong. Wrong like "hmmmm, why can't I feel anything in my leg?" Wrong like dead weight. Wrong like this can't be good. So I excused myself and wandered off to the bathroom, assuming that the baby was to blame for all of this (I'm starting so early). I figured he must have been sitting on nerve or something and if I walked around he would move and my leg issue would be resolved. When I got to the bathroom I took a peek at my leg and it was then I noticed it was swollen and a tad on the bluish side. Trying my best not to panic I washed my face, shook my leg a little and went back to the dining room. I ate one spoonful of ice cream, trying to ignore my leg, but I couldn't, so I quietly alerted Alex to the fact that I thought we should leave because something dreadful was happening to me. He suggested we move into the living room and I put my leg up, but by the time I reached the living room I knew that I needed do more with the leg than just put it up, purple toes are never a good sign. Ice cream abandonment is not a common trait for me, so everyone took me quite seriously when I said we had to leave. Alex and I rushed home and got on the phone with the OB on call and he gave me two choices: 1. Put my leg up and wait for it go away or 2. Go to the ER. I chose the latter. I figured I would be heading the hospital that night anyways, might as well be sooner than later.

So off to the ER we went and finally by 3:30am I was suited up with a nice open backed hospital johnnie and a steady IV of heparin. No one knew what was wrong with me quite yet, but after a slew of tests we found out the baby was doing great and I most likely had a blood clot in my leg, but more tests were waiting for me at 9am.

After meeting my daytime nurses and picking through my breakfast of French toast and fruit I was wheeled down on a gurney to the vascular lab where an ultrasound of my leg revealed a blood clot that ran from my groin to the back of my knee. I was officially diagnosed with DVT, deep vein thrombosis. Instead of being terrified I was relieved that I finally had an answer to why my leg was ailing and that it wouldn't hurt the baby. I was thrilled that this all happened before Saturday, because otherwise it could have all happened on a 6 hour flight to Boston, perhaps resulting in death. I was elated that this clot was discovered before pieces of it broke off and landed in my lungs. So sad to be bedridden, yet so happy to know why. I was handed a bunch of literature on how to deal with my new condition and every single one pictured fellow DVT suffers... all over 60.

It was a tough 9 days in the hospital. For the first 3 days I wasn't allowed to even get up and use the bathroom. I can't think of too many things that are more humiliating than using a bedpan, other than having your own urine spill from a bedpan forcing the nurses to give you a sponge bath and change your clothes and sheets while you just lie there. That's no fun. No fun at all. Having blood drawn every 5 hours also is no party, it left my arms looking like this. I could go on and on and I'm sure as the memories come flooding back to me I'll post more about my hospital hijinx, but I'd rather not re-visit those days right now. The rest of the month has been a steady diet of modified bed rest, working from home and little walking. I might lose my mind.

To sum it all up, the baby is okay, I'm okay and the clot is gone, thanks to the two daily injections of Lovenox I get to shove in my gut. This week I finally got permission to leave my home and drive a car, all by myself! So even though I have to take it easy I'm just about ready to return to my (somewhat) normal life. And wait for the next unfortunate illness to surprise me and Alex.

just wondering

Does this baby make me look fat?

kitten teeth

this is why Irene should never be unattended around a pair of flip-flops (or anything, for that matter).

tiny update

My sister and her family moved out here this weekend and I couldn't be happier. Even though my nephew stopped eating his yogurt mid-spoonful to inform me that I am an old woman I'm so very glad they're all here.

Irene and Ollie are getting along famously, they even share food and toys. I thought she was over her biting phase until this morning. As she rubbed her head on my leg I told her how sweet she was and then she unhinged that little jaw of hers and gave my heel a run for it's money. She sure showed me where flattery will get me.

Alex's radioactive tests came back clean, so we still have no idea what caused him to lose 3 pints of blood. What we do know is that he gets to swallow a mini camera pill thingy to take some pictures of his guts. We can't wait, it's like the ultimate gadget. I hope they print out some pictures for us, then we can hang them up right next to all the MRI pictures of my brain and sonogram print outs of the baby. We'll have a whole wall of untraditional family photos, it will be fabulous.

In pregnancy news, I bid a fond farewell to my ankles this week and finally ripped the seam on one of my cheap, large t-shirts from Target. My attempts to make it to the end of October with only 5 pieces of real maternity clothing have officially been thwarted. I give in and I'll spend this weekend buying some things I can only wear until November. I'll be on the look out for this, this and this, because that's what pregnant women like, right?

meet Irene

For some odd reason I started to guilty about how I'll ignore my cat after the baby is born. While in this guilty haze I decided that Ollie needed a playmate so I looked at cats on the Hopalong website and found the cutest little kitty, Irene, who seemed like a good match for Ollie. I sent in my application and got a call back that there was already an adoption pending for Irene. I decided that this was a sign and it was best that I just stick with one cat. About a week later I got a call from Alex telling me he just got off the phone with someone from Hopalong and Irene was available again. How could I say no to these eyes?She's still a little bite-y, but I'll give her a little leeway because she so darn cute.

my husband - the radioactive man

A few weeks ago I had to go to Boston for work. This was exciting for me because work was paying me go on a shoot for a story on one of my favorite games AND paying for me to have a little visit with my family as well as Lisa, Ben and their new baby. The night before I left things got ugly because Alex got sick, so sick that I was going to cancel the trip. Somehow, by the time morning rolled around Alex managed to pull everything together and give me a ride to the airport at 6:15 a.m., so I figured how sick could he be? Well, it turned out he was pretty sick; by the time I got off the plane I had 4 messages on my cell phone, all from Alex. In the first one he told me that they fit him in for a doctor's appointment at 10. Then he was at the doctor's and waiting to see what they had to say. The next one was from the emergency room, an ambulance had brought him there. The last message was a very sad sounding Alex telling me he was admitted to the hospital and needed to get some tests done, including a colonoscopy. I listened to all 4 of these with tears welling up in my eyes while we taxied to the gate in Boston. I felt so guilty, I wished I had never left. I stayed in the airport for about an hour making frantic phone calls and finally got in touch with Alex after talking to about 7 very nice people at the hospital. Alex and I decided that it was best for me to stay in Boston that night since I had just spent about 6 hours on a plane and it probably wasn't a good idea to cram myself into another airline seat for at least 24 hours, especially because there was nothing I could do if I went back home except sit in the hospital and worry. Our good friend Wil went to visit Alex at the hospital and called me to give me regular updates, so some of my guilt was lifted there. I was scheduled to stay in Boston for 4 days, but instead I went to visit Lisa, Ben and the new bambino that night, went to the shoot the next day and then flew out of Boston exactly 25 hours from when I arrived. When I got back to Oakland Wil greeted me with a delicious turkey burger and a ride to the hospital.

Visiting someone in the hospital at 10:30 at night isn't the easiest task but I finally got clearance. I then proceeded to get lost for about a half hour before I actually got to where I was going. I don't know what was more sad; seeing Alex with a saggy gown on all sprawled out in a hospital bed or the fact that he had to share this fairly small room with 3 other guys. He did have his own television to occupy his time, but if he wanted to watch it he had to keep his privacy curtain open (for me this would have been a dilemma because the fellow directly across from Alex had his curtain open almost all the time). The other dudes in the room seemed to be in much worse shape than Alex, there was a lot of moaning and grunting going on. Alex wasn't too bothered by all this, but he was complaining about how hungry he was and how he felt fine and just wanted to go home and to work. His colonoscopy came out fine and so did all the blood work, so whatever had been going on with him (which stopped about 24 hours after it started) was still a mystery. He was discharged the next day around noon and actually went to work the day after that. Obviously he's much more of a go-getter than I'll ever be.

Since they didn't come up with any answers at the hospital as to what might be going on with Alex's insides, he got scheduled for more appointments and more tests. He had one done today... a Meckel scan. This is to test for a little pocket or pouch in the small intestine by injecting some radioactive dye into the patient and then looking at the dye with some big ol' imaging equipment. At first they told me I could stay in the room with Alex during the test, since it takes about an hour for the dye to flow where they need to look at it, but then I told them I was pregnant and the plans changed a little. The exchange went something like this:

Should I not be in here because I'm pregnant?

Hmmm, well, yeah, I guess you should wait out there. Better safe than sorry. The equipment doesn't emit anything radioactive, but your husband will.

So he'll be radioactive today?

Sure, but only for about 12 hours.

I asked Alex if he wanted a super-baby, because if he did I could stay in the room. I mean, think about it, I could give birth to the next Spiderman or something. How rad would that be? I ended up going to the waiting room for the next hour, but they left the door open to the room, so I could see Alex napping for just about the whole hour.

Now we have to wait a week to find out if anything showed up in the scan (and about 4 months to find out if our baby will be a super hero). If the Meckel scan turns up clean there's a possibility that Alex will get to swallow a camera that will take pictures as it travels through him. We're keeping our fingers crossed for this one, there's nothing quite like a Fantastic Voyage.

halfway there

I decided not to write about this before because I've been tired and going through some big ups and downs, but there's no hiding it anymore, I'm pregnant. 20 weeks to be exact, the baby is due on Halloween.

Luckily I decided to spare the internets reports of my countless nights of heartburn and burping (sometimes for 6 continuous hours), my many fruitless shopping trips for new bras and how I used rubber bands to keep wearing my regular jeans as long as possible. Being pregnant hasn't been so bad so far, it's taken more of a mental toll than a physical one.

The hardest part of the last 20 weeks was all the testing they did and waiting for results. Originally I figured I would opt out of most of the tests, but when I went in for my first OBGYN visit I was handed this giant folder of papers which I like to call the "so you're 35 or older, that means your baby is most likely a disaster" packet. After reading all the info and sweating a lot, Alex and I decided that we would move forward with the blood test and the nuchal translucency screening, but we would skip the amnio because of the risk involved. The nuchal fold screening was normal, but the blood test came back showing an elevated risk of the baby having Down syndrome. We were still feeling fairly hopeful despite the elevated risk, so we continued to decline the amnio, but decided to go for a level II ultrasound instead. It was great to see the baby that day; we found out that he's a boy and he did some nice posing for us. Although it was exciting to see the baby for 20+ minutes it was also a very nerve-wracking process, because the test is done to look for soft markers for Down syndrome. Obviously Alex and I had no idea what we were looking for, or sometimes looking at, so anytime there was a long pause or it seemed like the woman operating the equipment was measuring something too much we got very tense. By the end everything seemed status quo to us, but the doctor came to check all the pictures and informed us that the baby is missing a bone in his right pinky, which is a soft marker for Down syndrome. We left the doctor's office feeling okay, but the more we thought about it and the more research we did on the internet (perhaps the worst thing we could have possibly done) Alex and I decided that we needed to know if the baby had Down syndrome or not. I couldn't stand not knowing until the end of October, I was worried sick. We finally gave in by the end of the day and decided to get the amnio done. We had to wait a week to get the test done, and then wait another 10 days for the results. The amnio itself wasn't the worst part, it was the waiting that almost killed me. I can't even explain the kind of panic, worry and fretting I did during those 10 days. I wondered if I had made the wrong decision to even know, because if the news wasn't what I wanted to hear what would I do? How would I prepare for that? I made up a million different scenarios over those 10 days. I went for lots of walks and I had tons of support from Alex and my friends. We finally got the results back, while I was at work I got a message on my cell phone from a genetic counselor telling me she had good news and I should call her back. The baby does not have Down syndrome or any neural tube defect. Just a missing pinky bone. I've never felt so relieved.
Here's our boy giving a shout out. Now if you'll excuse me I have some chips to eat while I tune into a very special Dateline. Sure Britney is on, but more importantly it appears that Matt Lauer is all casual-like; he's not wearing a tie, but I do believe he's wearing jeans, loafers and NO socks. Now that's good watchin'.

oh, hi.

Looks I've decided not to post things here anymore. Hmmm, I should start again. But not today... it's a long story and I might write about it someday.

Instead I'll post some pictures. Here's what I submitted for Photo Friday this week, the theme is Home.

see you later, New York

Here I am at the same table in JFK, waiting to depart. I have about an hour until I can get on my flight, but don't expect a lengthy post, because I want to make sure I have enough time to get chewed out by one of the employees here at Famiglia Pizza.

Our trip was delightful, the room was spacious and the weather was great. We saw Spamalot on Wednesday, then we miraculously won the lottery for 25 dollar (front row - not as fun as you think it is) tickets for Wicked on Thursday and Friday we saw Sweeney Todd. We also went to the Empire State Building, Central Park, walked up and down 5th Avenue a million times and ate some delicious and overpriced food.

Here are a few of the pictures... please know that I wasn't at my photo best, so they're pretty lame and touristy.

greetings from New York

I'm sitting in JFK enjoying some free wireless action (courtesy of JetBlue) while I wait for my mom's flight to arrive from Boston. My mom and I will be here until Saturday, seeing shows, walking around and whatever else mothers and daughters do.

Not too much to report so far, because obviously I haven't left the airport yet, but I will tell you that I ordered my slice of pepperoni pizza from the wrong person at the Famiglia Pizzeria and got a stern talking to from the woman at the register. Damn, I'll get eaten alive out here. Good thing I live in the land of hippies where I can order pizza from any old slob without pissing someone off.