Had my interview today, and I think it went okay. Hopefully they like me, at least enough for a second interview. I can never figure out how interviews go. The worst interviews I have end up with job offers, and the ones where I think, they love me, they will definitely hire me... I get no love. I at least tried to look my best. I struggled to stuff myself into one of my nicer suits that was too big for me prior to the pregnancy because of the weight I'd lost (in a size 14), but is snug now thanks to the baby bump. I didn't want to go to the interview in one of my usual frumpy maternity suits, that are actually made from washable material (probably good in case my water breaks in the middle of court or something horrific). However, it might have just looked painful, since I was ready to pop a button on my jacket. Ugh, pregzilla. So, we'll see if they're into me in spite of the baby bump. Apparently they aren't interviewing as many people as I initially thought they were, so that's cool.
The interview was a little awkward at times. Like, I totally suck at the "personal" questions. So, in an awesome Sarah Palin-esque word salad, I had to talk about myself, things that will make me stand out. (The word salad might just be it. But at least I wasn't rambling incoherently about events in American history, and failing at it.) They asked what I do in my free time. Obviously, let's not talk about gestating or child-rearing... so what else do I do? Self-aggrandizing blogging? Probably not a good idea. Drinking excessive amounts of alcohol when not gestating? Nope. Liberal politics? Too risky. So, instead I outed myself as an epic nerd and started talking sci-fi. A gamble, but the lady was actually on my wavelength, and we talked Doctor Who. Not bad, I definitely appreciate fellow ladies who appreciate good sci-fi!
Anyway, the job sounds awesome. The billable hour requirement isn't bad (1800 hours a year), and hopefully the salary will be decent too. The last firm I interviewed with (that ultimately hired no one) only had a 1600 hour requirement. (Still disappointed about that one, they are really casual and fun.) The last midsize firm I worked for (that pushed me out during my maternity leave), after initiating an ugly coup against a named partner, started a 2000 hour requirement, which was completely laughable considering they only paid new associates $40K a year and liked to dump the non-billable subros on the unsuspecting newbies. (And they wonder why they're a revolving door for young associates, and why associates will walk out the door with a partners' clients and go to another firm.)
Other than the interview, I also had the follow-up ultrasound this morning. Since it was so early, we took Cora with us. She was pretty excited about seeing pictures of "her baby." (She's already claimed ownership.) She proudly showed off the ultrasound photo the tech gave her. All is normal so far, and there's still no penis. Cora would have been pretty devastated if her little sister turned out to have a penis, so that's good. Got another ultrasound scheduled for 32 weeks. I think we could probably be done with it at this point but, hell, since our insurance is actually covering these ultrasounds, why not.
Swim class is a bust, unfortunately. The Y sucks and wouldn't let us into the class, even though the class turned out to not be full, but they couldn't bother to get back with me even though I kept calling and bugging them about it. We were going to pay the non-member rate for the swim class, since Cora's friend is taking the class. I've kinda had it with the Y anyway, considering they recently jacked up their rates. We canceled our membership because of it, but were considering a summer membership for the pool, but they aren't offering any specials. It would be $400 to join for the summer, which is ridiculous. So much for the Y being for the poor folk. It's now one of the most expensive gyms in town, and definitely is not the nicest. Oh well. We'll look into swim classes somewhere else, maybe.
We did go to the pool yesterday, with our friends. It was nice to float in the water, it was the first time in several weeks that I felt like a normal weight, and not like I'm carrying a ton of bricks. I haven't even gained 10 pounds, but I feel like I've gained 100. Also, since I wasn't very pregnant during the summer the last time, I guess I didn't have the problem of (warning: TMI) not being able to prune my lady garden, because I can no longer even see my lady garden. Ugh! I need to make a salon appointment and get some waxing done, obviously.
Other goings on: Husband is probably going to cut off his limbs with a chainsaw, because he is convinced that is the proper method to dispose of the "junk tree" in our backyard, that he only suddenly cares about because our neighbor the master gardener mentioned it disapprovingly, as it is an "invasive species," whatever that means. (I figure if we leave it there long enough, she'll cut it down herself, kinda like how they edge our lawn for us. They clearly disapprove of us and our lame attempts at yard upkeep, they're just too nice to say so.) I have failed to convince him to hire a service to do it. A friend has convinced him to try a handsaw first, hopefully he'll only cut off a few fingers that way.
In other gardening misadventures, Husband was convinced that his new bird feeder could not be reached by the massively fat squirrels we have, eating everything in sight. The squirrels tore down the last feeder he'd bought and busted the thing open.
So, here was today's exchange:
Me: I thought you said the squirrels couldn't get to your new bird feeder?
Husband: They can't. There's no way.
Me: Funny. Because there's two of them out there making mad love to your feeder as we speak.
Husband: Damnit!!! Those bastards! (Looks out the kitchen window, and sees Big Fat Squirrel hanging upside down, embracing the feeder, and shoving his fat little face into the birdseed, while another is picking up his scraps from the ground underneath; cue Husband running outside in his underwear to shout obscenities at said squirrels while chasing them.)