This was going to be a list of awesome things, but I got tangentially ranty

SURPRISE!

Ok, so very few people have acutally seen my "shocked face." This is not because I am somehow un-shockable. I'm quite shockable due to a delightful combination of not knowing very much about the world at large and my general trust of people I like which sometimes leads to some leg-pulling. I'm serious. One time, after an uncomfortable medical procedure, my husband was driving me home from the hospital and I said that I really wanted ice cream. Comfort food. Fat and sugar because it tastes good and if I was going to be hurting, I at least wanted my mouth to be happy. Darling husband did volunteer to drive to the 24 hr Baskin Robins/Dunkin Donuts* for me, and said, quite calmly, that it made sense that I was craving ice cream, because it had natural muscle relaxant properties. My eyes got wide. I thought this was like that "turkey makes you sleepy" thing or the reason that I would crave giant steaks once a month. "Reeeeally?!?" I asked, all full of hope. Then he laughed at me. Jerk (whom I love & adore).

But that's not what I was trying to get at. So, my "shocked face" is a running gag because frequently, my friends & I make very obvious statements in a pseudo-sarcastic way, at which point I try to put on my "shocked face" but inevitably fail, because... well, OF COURSE you want to do a punk-polka-whatever Ms. Gruss. Of  course you do. Most of the time I just leave my shocked face at home. It's too much to lug around with me everywhere.

I do have a point here somewhere, I swear.

So, this weekend, I was feeling a little down. On Friday, I attended a friend's baby shower and it was lovely... except (there's always an except, isn't there?)... some of her friends were... rude. I was going to try to find a nicer way of saying that, but there isn't one. They were just rude--condescending & dismissive of her desire to cloth diaper. They laughed in her face when she tried to answer the questions THEY asked about how the cloth diapers worked. It made my blood boil. They mean well. They're moms and have kids of their own, so know more about the reality of baby butts than we first-time mom-to-bes do, but... um... RUDE! So, I came home and thanked Twitter for being supportive and awesome of our desire to try cloth diapers. People in the real world are rude. I've had people laugh in my face too. It makes me get a little... honey badger.

I mean, I get it. I've never done this before. Cloth isn't normal anymore. It's a lot of work. I have no idea what I'm really getting in to. I get it. I really don't have much of an idea about any of this infant business, even after my classes at the hospital, nieces, nephews, friends, etc. I get it. I know nothing. BUT YOU KNOW WHAT? I have FRIENDS! Friends who are right now, this moment, sucessfully cloth diapering their kids. More than one! They're not crazy or uber-hippy or whatever else you think. They're awesome and frugal and environmentally sound and all that. Everything I "know" about cloth diapering has come from the mouths of moms who've done it. All the diapers I've purchased are recommendations from those moms. Because they KNOW! And maybe my baby will be different. Maybe the styles that worked on their tiny-people butts won't work on my tiny person's butt. Ok. Trial and error. Maybe my baby will inherit my uber-finicky skin and will get 14 kinds of rashy and need monster strength creams that aren't compatible with cloth diapers. Maybe I will suck at doing laundry and this whole experiment will fail. I admit that all of that is a possibility, but please, for the love of decency, could you give me a fighting chance here people? (Not YOU people. You people are awesome. It's the real life skeptics that are bringing me down, like Gruss would never do.**)

Ok, that is a completely different tangent that I didn't mean to have, but there it is. I'm trying stuff and might fail and if you "told me so" I will stab you with daggers from my eyes because SHUT UP! It could work. Just as much as it could NOT work, so... grr... anyway

ANYWAY! This weekend I was feeling down because I found out that of the 6 other ladies in my small group/Bible study/Nebraska girls only 1 was going to be able to make it to my shower. Now, let's be fair--they all had totally reasonable and pretty awesome reasons not to be there. A dad's 60th birthday party, a trip to London, England with boyfriend & boyfriend's mom!, a childbirth class at the hospital, a conference previously paid for... all good stuff! None of which I would ever, in a MEEELLLLION years ask them to ditch to come sit around with me and scrapbook while talking about pink baby things and eat finger foods and drink punch. I don't hate them for not being able to come. I just... was sad that these ladies, who are such a big part of my life, wouldn't be able to be there--kind of as a group, you know? Anyway, I was a little bummed. Not that I wouldn't have friends to celebrate with me at my shower (I do). Not that I wouldn't get more presents (I will). Just... that part of my life wasn't going to be represented at the party, and that was a little sad. Ok, so there's that.

THEN! On Sunday, my husband was all "Tomorrow, you should come to dinner with me & Doppleganger & her husband (dude... still weird to call him that. I mean, they've been married 2 months, I should adjust soon)" Wait, the parenthetical there is my thoughts, not his. He doesn't think like that. Yeah. I didn't want to go. Bible study was that night, at our house, so I wanted to be there to... stare at the living room before people arrived. I don't know. I just wasn't excited about going out. I didn't really want tacos (which should have been 17 kinds of red flags that there was something SERIOUSLY wrong with me, because when do I ever NOT want tacos?!?), I like our friends a lot, but didn't want to go out. Then Monday came, and I worked and I complained to my husband about still being sad about things that I felt I had no business being sad about (see above paragraph) and kept asking "Do I really need to come to dinner? Can't I just stay home and do dishes instead?" Seriously--I don't know why my husband didn't have a thermometer & a shrink at my side instantly, because I am not the kind of woman who ever says things like that. (Spoiler alert--the very next day I had some random fever crap that was gone as fast as it came. Bizzare.) He just kept repeating that yes, I should be there, it was important, trust him! I thought Doppleganger had NEWS to share, though I couldn't imagine what it would be. They're not planning on hopping on this having-a-baby train any time soon. I'd already seen her new car. In fact, I just saw her on Sunday, so... what's the big deal. I grudgingly went to dinner, tried to put on my best face, despite being tired, not hungry, and generally feeling icky. Thankfully, these are friends who like me even when I'm tired and icky, so I didn't have to try too hard. It was a nice dinner. We sang "soft kitty." Then I left. No NEWS was revealed. I felt cheated and tricked and crankier. I told my husband so in a snippy text on my way home.

I rushed home to get there before people arrived for bible study. Thankfully, because everyone but me lives about 20 miles south, much closer to downtown, in an older and far-too-hip-for-me neighborhood, they're generally late, which was awesome for me on this day. Except when I got home and saw a strange car in front of my house! OH GREAT! Jennifer, our newest member, has probably been waiting outside my house for... like... MINUTES and doesn't know the garage code to let herself in and I'm a horrible hostess and the crank increases.

So, I walk inside with a mouth full of appologies, only, I see this instead:

Yeah, that's right! My husband lured me out of the house so that my bible study ladies could throw me a surprise baby shower since they were all going to be out of town/otherwise busy on the actual day. And my husband didn't put them up to it! Aparently they planned it all when I wasn't around. Because they are sneaky. And my husband kept the secret--which is a pretty big deal for him. I usually get like 4 or 5 presents from him at every gift-giving holiday because he can't wait to give them to me on the day.

Yes. I felt like a giant dork for being all mopey and was totally surprised and shocked. Not that they like me and wanted to celebrate me, but that they would go to all the trouble of putting on a whole shower (with games! and punch! and snacks! and cake balls!) on a Monday night. It was awesome.

Also, I participated in this awesome Scarf-swap thingy that Raven over at Just Expressive organized. The scarf I got from -R- is wonderful! It's the perfect color to go with so many of my peacock-themed things, and! I got bonus matching earrings with it! Score! (Also, I'm wearing jiggaflern in  my hair that I stole of my peacock-themed wreath that I still haven't taken down because I realized it wasn't really all that Christmas-y, so now it hangs in the bedroom because I like it. And I stole a little cluster of appropriately colored stuff & stuck it on my head. Ta-da!)

In summary--things that are awesome: My Twitter friends (more on this later, because I actually do have lots to say about them) and my real life friends. Basically, my friends in general. I'm pretty much the luckiest girl in the world.

*Seriously the best business plan ever invented! 24 hour access to awesome ice cream (Jamoca Almond Fudge please!) and donuts!

**You know that song by ELO? The "Don't bring me dooooooown, Bruce!" song? Well, it's not actually Bruce. It's Gruss. The song is about my friend The Gruss. And when you hear the song on the radio, you must immediately start singing along and call her. No matter where you are in the song when she/her voicemail picks up, you must not stop singing to say any sort of greeting. She's a smart cookie. She'll catch on. She knows the drill. It happens all the time. So... anyway, Gruss won't ever let you down. That's a fact.