They say it's about the size of a lime

It's been a rough couple of months at the Ahlstrom household - sickness, lots of work, new callings, more sickness. Oh yeah, and then there's this:

Yep, it's true. And we managed to (mostly) keep it a secret for almost 13 weeks - hard. This morning we had an ultrasound and saw Baby Ahlstrom bouncing around for the camera, showing us its ginormous alien head.

Even though I've been the sickest I've ever been, it took that ultrasound to make it real for me, and reality is sinking in with each passing minute.

And now I can say thank you - for keeping us in your prayers, for still being my friend even though I didn't tell you our little secret, and for sending good vibes out to our family while it took us so long to reach this point.

Now let's just pray that we can make it until October 11.

Smelly feet

I've never really been the kind of person to take my shoes off when I go into someone else's house, especially my own. Unless they specifically request it, but when they do, it makes me feel weird. Walking around someone else's house in my socks (or no socks) with a bunch of other people just doesn't feel right.

Then I married Andy, who is half Japanese and we moved into his parents' old house. His Japanese mother added this entryway onto said house - a specific place for people to leave their shoes when they came in. It has some Japanese name, which I cannot remember at present.

Andy convinced me I would love it, and I wasn't so sure. But when he pointed out that I would have an entire shoe room instead of just a few measley racks in the closet, the idea grew on me.

Just look at where I get to store all my shoes!

And thus I joined the club of taking off my shoes when I came into the house. Actually, I probably became the leader.

Usually, it's not too big a deal. We take off our shoes, and when people come over and see the big pile of shoes, they take off their shoes too. No big deal, right?

Except last night, we had the young men and young women over to our house to work on a movie project with Andy. I sat downstairs catching up on The Martha Stewart Show (she has great ideas okay!) while everyone sat upstairs writing their scripts and throwing popcorn all over the kitchen. When everyone left, I went upstairs to help Andy clean up, and the whole upstairs reeked.

It. Was. Rank.

Smelly like an entire high school basketball team had wiped our furniture, cabinets, and appliances down with their wet jerseys after a championship game. And we even had really strong scented plug-ins and a Scentsy "candle" burning - what the heck? When I told Andy it smelled like a locker room, he said he's pretty sure it was one of the young men's feet. His feet?

Maybe I just don't get that because I didn't grow up with brothers, but holy cow! Whose feet are stinky enough to smell up an entire first floor of a house?

Before they came over, I spent 30 minutes cleaning the floors so that their wouldn't get dirty inside my house, but when dirty feet come inside my house and make my house dirty, it makes me not very happy.

This poor young man, I don't mean to pick on him. But I just might rethink the whole "remove your shoes before you walk into my house" thing.

All right, I need some help - who has an answer for me?

I am married to a man who loves Chinese food. Which means that every time he gets a craving, we have two choices:

1) We can go out and get good Chinese food.

2) I can make Chinese food, and then 10 minutes after we try it, we can go out and get good Chinese food.

Because I am not good at making Chinese food.

I would say that most people who know me, or at least the people who have lived near me and been invited to dinner, would say I'm a pretty good cook. I can make pretty much anything, and it usually turns out pretty good, sometimes even great. It's all about identifying great recipes, really.

But I have not had any success with Chinese food. Sure, I've made lots of stir-fries (beef, chicken, shrimp - you name it), and while they're healthy and packed with veggies, they just don't taste anything like what you get in a Chinese restaurant. We've decided it's all about the sauce, and I just haven't found any recipes with that good restaurant-like stir-fry sauce.

So I'm putting this out there: do you have a stir-fry recipe with good sauce that tastes (almost) as good as a chinese restaurant? If so, email it to me. Our budget depends on it!

(Yes, I'll settle for almost. I'm being realistic here, and know that it will never be as good a the restaurant.)

Have you ever seen someone you know on the national news?

I was just taking a break from work (and let's be honest, Ed), when I caught this article on msn.com.

I thought the blurb sounded interesting - "Man who helped elderly woman to safety gets ticket," but imagine my surprise when I opened the link and saw a picture of a man who used to be in my ward when I lived in downtown Denver!

Jim was always extremely nice and always cheerful and helpful. You can figure that out just by reading that he was helping elderly women cross the street when he was hit by a truck. I can't believe they want to give him a ticket for jaywalking - what was his option - don't jaywalk and watch old women get hit? Seriously.

I'm glad Jim's going to be okay. The world needs more people just like him.

We are so lazy

Can you imagine a perpetual Saturday morning, where you get to lounge around on the couch with your favorite person and watch your favorite cartoons?

Well, that's what has been happening at our house the last couple of weeks, except instead of cartoons, we are watching old episodes of Ed. Remember Ed? (What a delightful show.).

I've been waking up around 5:00 am, getting some work done in my office, sitting in on some conference calls, eating some cereal - all in my pajamas. Then, a few hours later, Andy wakes up, turns on the TV, and I move my work downstairs to the couch, and we relish in the joy of visiting Stuckeyville. Working from home can be so lovely some days.

Don't you love Saturday mornings? I keep thinking that at some point the perpetual Saturdays will have to come to an end, but in the meantime, I'll enjoy Stuckeybowl, fine Corinthian turkeys, and that fine young man, Warren Cheswick.

And craving bacon cheeseburgers pie. Because let's face it, they ate a lot of bacon cheeseburgers and pie on that show.

What's that on your head?

Check out the latest webisode (episode 06) for our dear friends Eldon and Heather Kartchner.

When I first watched it, I laughed so hard I cried. And then wanted to throw up when I saw the last skit - be forwarned, it's a little gross.

What time did you get up this morning?

I got up at 6:30, but actually it was 4:30. "Why was I waking up at 4:30, thinking it was 6:30?" you might ask. Really, it's simple: my alarm clock is out to get me.

A few weeks ago, I had a 7:00 am meeting on a Monday. The plan: Wake up at 6:00, to ensure I had enough time to get up, read my scriptures, and putter around before starting to work. So I set my alarm: 6:00 am.

I always wake up just before my alarm goes off. It's this weird thing - no matter what time it is set for, I wake up one minute before, turn it off, and I'm awake. I guess Andy's lucky because he never has to hear the alarm going off for me in the morning.

Anyhow, I woke up at 5:59 am, waited for a good 20 minutes, walked downstairs, and turned on my computer. (Have I mentioned that working at home is awesome?) As I was waiting for it to boot up, I noticed how dark it was outside, and thought that was weird.

Five minutes later, I was logged in, and the clock on my computer said 4:25 am. Huh? I went downstairs and looked at our microwave, stove, and cable box clocks: all said 4:25. Then I went upstairs and looked at my alarm clock: 6:25. It was two hours fast!

I figured I must have messed up the time when I was setting the alarm, set it back to normal, and went on with my (very long) day - that was two weeks ago.

This morning, I had a 7:30 meeting. I didn't even set my alarm - I just woke up when my clock read 6:30, went downstairs, and logged in. Guess what? It was really 4:30 am. For the love! So I went back to bed, knowing my clock was an hour and a half fast (and too lazy to reset it), and woke up when the clock said 8:30, which should have been 7:00. When I went down to my computer, it was only 6:30.

My clock had moved two hours ahead. How? And why? And since when does waking up require doing so much math?

The burning question for me is this: why such a lapse in between acting up? It was strange a few weeks ago, and then has worked just fine until last night. What did I ever do to make it annoyed? I guess when you're using an alarm clock that's over 10 years old, maybe it's time to kick it to the curb...