Pregnancy and the Fighting Irish

For the record, I'm not pregnant. But lately I have been SURROUNDED by pregnancy. Seriously. It's getting eerie. Get this:

First, Mike and I became whatever the Mormon equivalent of godparents is on Saturday after spending the weekend with a woman in labor. (This is quite the story in and of itself, but I won't go into details. Suffice it to say that mom and baby are doing great! But after witnessing firsthand what women go through to have a baby, Mike will be lucky if we ever reproduce.)

Then I got a message from my MTC companion telling me she had a dream that I was pregnant. And I quote: "Last night Mike kept rubbing your belly. You were playing with children and looking at them longingly. You were definitely prego. In my dream of course. Oh and P.S. We were in La Spezia caught in some torrential rains." (Hope you don't mind my putting this up here, Collega. =D)

THEN I started dreaming about being pregnant. I will refrain from elaboration.

THEN THIS shows up in my email:

Subject: Your Pregnancy: 18 weeks

"Hello from BabyCenter! Head to rump, your baby is approximately 5 1/2 inches long (about the length of a bell pepper) and weighs almost 7 ounces. He's busy flexing his arms and legs — movements that you'll start noticing more and more in the weeks ahead..."

Yeah. Mike and I haven't even been married 18 weeks. Scandalous.

Turns out Mike had signed me up with the baby center thing as a joke, but STILL. The whole thing is just freaky if you ask me. So, the moral of the story is: We will be playing with your kids whenever the baby hungry feeling hits. You've been warned.

On to happier things.

Guess who got a totally exclusive tour of the Notre Dame stadium on Monday?!?? ME!!! The Dean at the Grad School where I've been working got us a tour by the ND security director! Even I, a less than faithful football fan, thought it was gnarly. He told us the history of the stadium, some cool statistics, and some neat stories about past coaches and players. Then he took us up to the top level of the press box where the guests of the President come to watch the game. He even took us into the President of the University's personal box to watch the games. It's a sweet dig, let me tell ya. Then we got to walk across the field, and even go into the locker room (which smelt like sweat and urine. I guess all locker rooms are more or less the same.) I even got to touch the famous "Play Like a Champion Today" sign! It was pretty sweet. Here are some pics:The locker room:
Manti Te'o is in our ward. I told my coworkers at the grad school that we were friends. I figured, I heard him bear his testimony once, therefore we're prettymuch BFFs.
For all you Rudy fans (I still have yet to see that movie):