…and on my due date, no less! Wish us luck! Much love to all!

Thirty-nine weeks isn't as much fun as, say, 9 1/2 Weeks, but I've made it this far so what's one more week? Doc says “it'll be a while yet,” but people passing me on the street stop to offer me some nice boiled water. Whom to believe? At least track and field Olympics is this week. And can we stop it with the beach volleyball already? My mom likes the quote, “beach volleyball isn't a sport. It's a beer commercial.”

Professor Todd Zywicki posted an absolute valentine about Card Hub:

“…playing around on the web site this seems like a very pro-consumer market innovation that uses technology to directly address the information economics issues that underlies consumer credit markets and to enable consumers to make better choices. And perhaps there are other websites that do the same thing. But I think this is a great innovation to address the desire of consumers to get useful information to compare card offers, one that seems quite superior to traditional horse-and-buggy consumer credit regulation.“

I swear, I was so excited, I very nearly went into labor. Nearly.

China certainly has its share of negative issues (don't we all), but there are some good things there, too. I speak especially of the Welfare Plastic Products Company in Beijing, which manufactures Rhythmball equipment.

This company is actually a government-sponsored sheltered workshop. More than fifty percent of its employees, including the director, has a physical disability. The government sponsors the workshop as a sheltered place where the differently abled can work safely and effectively.

Plus, their product is fantastic. It's widely considered the best supplier of Rhythmball / taiji Bailong ball equipment in the nation. That's why we import only from them.

Oh, and you did know that Rhythmball was developed by the renowned Chinese Olympic boxing coach, Bai Rong, right? Of course you did. 🙂

There, two good things about Beijing, a whole three days before the Olympics begin!

The last time I was in labor, I played only one CD: Haiku by Dionysis, a French alternative band. I'd like to spare Monstro that trauma this time (he's not as into French alternative rock as you might think). So, how about some suggestions for a labor-room hospital mix?

In other news, I'm at 36.5 weeks and people keep telling me that this is when *they* had *their* babies. Grrreat.

Mom and Lex and I went to the big park on Saturday and when I was pushing the boy on the swings, a woman about my age and her daughter about Lex's age took the other swing. We ascertained that we both had 2.5-year-old kids, and then she looked at me quizzically.

“Do I know you from the baby massage class?”

“No,” I said. “I didn't take that one. But we took the getting-ready-for-birth class, and I went to the Mommy and Me group at the hospital a few times.”

“I went to that, too,” she said. “But just a few times.”

“Yeah. The last time I went, everyone was bagging on TV and I couldn't take it, so I stood up in support of it.”

“THAT'S IT!” she cried. “That's where I saw you. Oh, God, I was so glad you said that back then.”

“I'm not one to keep my mouth shut,” I understated. “I remember, I blogged about it when I got home, about the grandma who was there who was so proud of her grandkids because they didn't watch TV but did play hours-long imaginative games with sticks. And at that point, I realized that apparently, nobody cool gave birth when I gave birth. They were all way too sanctimonious for me. Present company excluded, of course.”

She nodded. “I had the same experience. My daughter was premature, and every time I went, people said,”Oooh, she's so tiny! I got tired of it.”

“Frankly, I'm impressed you remember me,” I said.

“I always remember faces. It's kind of a curse.”

“Going through life wondering, 'where do I know that person from?'” I asked.

“Exactly,” she said.

Lex was tired of the swings at that point (or, more factually, I was tired of pushing him), so I took him down and went back to the bench where Mom sat. She had a bemused expression on her face.

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

“Most of it. It appears your reputation precedes you.”

“It usually does, Mom. It usually does.” And I picked up my ukulele and strummed out the IZ version of “Over the Rainbow.”

I went to Maryamie's blog today and noticed she has put me in her blogroll, and that my own blogroll was Maryamieless. In the only words of Jar-Jar Brinks worth quoting, “How rude!” I have since rectified the error. She's a funny mom with good stuff to say, and her husband is Robert Scoble, technology terror of the San Jose State University Spartan Daily newsroom, from whom I took the mantle of Production and Design Editor (and was a bit of a terror in my own right).

Welcome, Maryamie! I'm sure my link to you won't help your Google PR as much as your link helped mine, but I'm sure my loyal gluttons for punishment readers will enjoy your musings as much as I do.

Q: What charge can pepper never be booked on?

A: Assault!

nyuk nyuk nyuk.

Prayers, please, for Dean and Emily, who will be welcoming their first child today! Dean has been a best friend since high school — pretty much one of two (ok, three) friends I've retained from that era.

Dean was looking for “strong, masculine” names for his new son. Our mutual best friend suggested “Testosterone.” Dean-o wasn't crazy about that suggestion. Then I jumped on the bandwagon with a name I saw on the Sprout channel this past Father's day, but Dean didn't like my idea, either. I don't know why… I think “Arsenal Testosterone LastName” would look *awesome* on a birth announcement. Some people have no taste. I mean, really.

Last night, Matthew McConaughey and his girlfriend welcomed their infant son into the world. True to his roots, baby Levi McConaughey was born without a shirt.