The best part of this weekend was this part:

C. bought out a delicious cake (chocolate/orange mousse cake...mmm...) and everyone sang to me while I watched my cake and smiled, self-conscious but happy. I blew out the five or six (??) candles, and after the cheering, I told everyone I had something to say. And then, while I hugged C. close to my side, I told them. It was about as perfect as it could be.

The birthday party was very cool. About as low-key as it could be and yet folks got drunk and had a good time. I received as gifts a small painting, a bunch of Burt's Bees stuff, this stuff, a horrendous commemorative collectors plate encrusted with the image of an eagle and a white wolf engaged in battle, entitled, "The Struggle," and a yellow sleeveless t-shirt with the word "Bootylicious" emblazoned on the front in blue glitter. Quite a haul, yes? We partied 'til sometime just after two, which I think is pretty good for a preggo lady.

C. and I made sure to stay in our robes until well after one o'clock today, enjoying our Sunday as much as possible. Once we figured out what a FREAKIN' GORGEOUS day it was outside, we got dressed and went for a walk. The sun was shining, everyone was out enjoying it. People were in good moods, nodding and saying hi to others on the street. So pleasant...

I don't really know what made us both look up at a passing car a few feet ahead of us, but suddenly there was a thump and we both simultaneously realized we were watching a small, white dog being run over by a car. My first reaction was to cover my eyes in horror. C. immediately asked me, "Did you see that?" I know he was really, really hoping I hadn't. But I had, and already I was crying. I couldn't look back and I could not get the image of that little dog all tangled up in the back tires of the car out of my mind. We could hear the dog yelping in pain. It breaks my heart to think about it even now. C. did the first thing he could think of. He got me away from there. He was horrified too, but he was in reaction mode. We turned the corner and stopped. "Did anyone else see? Was anyone helping? Was the dog okay?" I asked C. as I tried to calm down. He had looked before we left and said he saw some people on the sidewalk running toward the dog and the car. I felt so terrible that I just could not bring myself to even look back to see if the dog was hurt badly. I just couldn't do it. C. felt guilty too, but I knew he was just trying to help me.

We kept walking, trying to comfort each other. The warm sun helped, but our happy day outside had changed completely. We were quieter and more thoughtful.

I'm sorry, little dog. I hope you're okay.