...and so it goes.

In the middle of the blazing hot afternoon, we walked up to the Big Star, hoping for inside seating where it was cooler.
"How many?"
"3."
"Well, the tables inside are reserved for bigger parties. If you want a table you can choose one outside."
"Are there any left in the shade?"
"You can choose any table you want." By which she meant no.
We walked through the tables and chose one half in the shade, but she must have noticed the belly. Two seconds later, the host descended on our table. "A booth just opened up inside," she smiled. Then she asked if I needed some water.

Sort of like how, on Saturday night, we went to Huck Finn's, home of the "toilet seat-sized donut." I ordered the donut delight, pictured on the menu as one simple donut with one reasonably sized scoop of ice cream. This is what I got. The pregnancy portion. If only they knew that I deserved instead the "pregnancy but hasn't run more than 3 miles at a time in 3 weeks" portion. The sprinkles, though. I'm a sucker for some sprinkles.

Anyway, I did not ride my bike this weekend. I did not run this weekend, either. I did do a workout, though, and I took Molly for some frisbee so she got a workout, too. (I did run this morning, though, so take that.) More importantly, though, I got to catch up with the Heenans, and with Johnathan and Laura, and eat... a lot.

Saturday afternoon we stopped at Stanley's to buy (another) watermelon. Out of courtesy (pity?) they let the preggo pick from the crates of lovely fruit. I collected my prize pick and handed it to Ben. "That's big," he said. Really? It weighed in at a whopping 26 lb. OK, so it's big. Maybe since I've been carrying about that much extra weight around, it didn't seem so big any more. Either way, it's nearly 2/3 gone. I love watermelon.

Please let me know if there are any other stereotypes about pregnant people that I can affirm for you today. Really, I do my best.

And for the record, I want everyone to know that Contador was on my fantasy team BEFORE this nonsense. Cycling is supposed to be about who's the best rider, not about who's a good rider who has an infallible mechanic. Man, do I feel bad for the Saxo Bank team mechanic right now. Not that he wasn't already probably working his arse off washing bikes, gluing tires, driving cars all night. This is a doozie.