Friday, September 28, 2007

yet another stupid movie

K. likes stupid movies. Movies with no dialogue and Asian guys trying to kill each other. Movies with poor dialogue and multiracial guys trying to kill each other. Movies with slow-motion kickboxing scenes, fast car races, bombs, and guns. It's Friday night, date night, and we're watching "300." Another stupid movie.

We are doing this because K. has been waiting for this movie to arrive from Netflix (it got lost the first time) and he's hard to say no to. But since I'm not allowed to comment on the movie's stupidity (I tried, and he bit my foot), I have retired to the iMac, to mock him without fear of injury.

So, in short, K. likes stupid, stupid movies.

And I hate them.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

The Baby Shower, aka the day K. bought out Costco

On Saturday, Danielle and Stinkie arrived, small dog and law books in hand respectively, all the way from Nashville and Birmingham, just to be at my baby shower (I love them commas). This made a full house: Mom and Anika in the guest room, Danielle on an air mattress, and Stinkie on the sofa-- six people and four dogs on my little house!

On Sunday, at twelve-thirty or so, the food was made, my dress was donned, and the festivities began. The cool thing was that nearly everyone was already there-- we were only expecting two locals, so we cleaned up the house and prepared a lady-food buffet for ourselves-- so much fun! Danielle had the whole program firmly in hand, and it was truly awesome to see her coordinate everything from asparagus wrapped in roast beef to the soothing of craft-shy girls into making quilt squares for the wee one.

In due course, Margaret arrived, then Angela with her six-week-old son. Billy added a certain authenticity to the baby shower, but did not distract-- the sweetie slept the whole time.

We ate food, colored quilt squares with crayons, played games (Stinkie won! Woo 'Bama), and opened presents.

Let's just say the little princess was thoroughly spoiled. She's got a swim outfit, socks and onesies galore, two fleece suits, and wee little dresses that nearly make me cry-- as well as a stroller, a swaddle cloth, cloth diapers, all-natural soap, moccasins, mary janes, and a rug and a mirror for her abode, and a funky diaper bag with MY initials for me.

It was an uber-wonderful time. Who knew being girly so could be *so* much fun?

Monday, September 24, 2007!

pics to follow; in the mean time, onion soup to eat, a novel to write, interviews to set up, and a cold to stave off.

Thursday, September 20, 2007


SO K. has all the pictures on his laptop in the oh-so-vundebar picasa, and hence, there will be no picture today. it's in the other room. and it's not even turned on.

my mother and my german sister are supposedly meeting me at thacker mountain radio this evening, though they're waking up in bowling green, kentucky, and it took them 24 hours to get there (apparently it took a day to drive out of virginia? who knew?) so I am resigned to the possability of saving two seats that will never be filled, ergo making all others around me hate me.

last night, I came home from the gym and quickly made 2 garden beds, which I then seeded with turnips and mustard, before K. pulled up at six or so. We ate grilled cheeses for dinner and then began our operation blitzkrieg: dogs washed, drove to the building where we unloaded shelves and organized his tools (which consisted of about 800 screwdrivers thrown wildly across the building...and other things, of course). we drove home-- the whole block-- and folded/put away 4 loads of laundry, put sheets and duvet covers on 3 beds, vacuumed/mopped the floors of the entire house, and cleaned the kitchen.

K. sheepishly asked "so where's the vacuum cleaner these days?
and I giggled and said, "over there."
He said, "are you giggling because you think I don't know where it is? You move stuff aorund, you know."
I said, "Yes, I am giggling because you didn't know where it was. Are you being defensive about that?"
Pause. "Maybe."

It was really nice working with my hubby; lately, we've been more along the lines of "divide and conquer", which-- when he's doing filthy stuff at the building-- i am a-ok with.

Of course, we proceeded to read for a good hour before we turned off the lights. Shadow slept on the porch adjacent to our bedroom last night, since she's been pissing wherever she lies down, and Dido-- we thought-- was under the bed per usual. We slept the sleep of the righteous, woke late, and when I went to let the dogs out, I could not find Dido anywhere.

She was in the backyard, with filthy feet, looking very, very woebegone. Apparently one of us let her out last night, and she somehow never made it back inside.

Got to sharpen up, what with a baby coming and whatnot...

Monday, September 17, 2007

tread carefully: truly mushy ground ahead

Tomorrow is our two-year anniversary.

Because I love celebrations, I am *so* excited; because I'm an overthinker, I've been doing some heavy-duty relationship analysis lately, thinking about how we began, how we've changed, how things are.

Despite the accusations of PDA and whatnot out there, I try not to brag on my husband, mostly because-- well-- when one has the best, one tries not to boast overmuch, mais oui? But being that it's our anniversary, I'm pulling out all the stops:

I have the best.husband.ever.

Apart from being fantastically handsome, so much so that it's only his magic circle on the ring finger of his left hand that keeps women from hurling their underthings at him as he strides around looking all fine, K. is just really, really nice.

Exhibit One:

K. works a lot. At a job that demands a lot--- but he never complains about it, and so he makes it look easy. And when he comes home? Well, he spends another 15+ hours a week (including his entire Saturday) working on a historic building that no one else with less than a million dollars and a hole in their pocket would have touched with a ten-foot-pole.

Contrary to popular opinion, K. does not spend all this time laboring for the sheer love of labor itself (though he does like to work up a good sweat and tear things apart). But what keeps him doing this, day after day, and then coming home to a slightly pouty and infinitely demanding wife (who wants to TALK and take WALKS and do everything she can think of to keep the poor man from sitting on the sofa and watching a few hours of Scrubs) is this: he wants the best for our family.

Me, the pups, and now the little princess; K. keeps his mind on our futures more than I would have ever thought possible.

Exhibit Two:

Here's the real miracle: he doesn't whine, complain, or ever even insinuate that working so hard is a burden. Nope. When K. comes home from whatever job, he's happy to see me-- kisses me, hugs me, and says thank you for any water I might hand him. He praises my cooking without fail, allowes himself to be hauled out to the porch to see my morning glory flowers, and says with real awe, "the house looks beautiful, baby" after I've cleaned it.

Exhibit Three:

And then, sometimes, like yesterday (his ONE day off a week), K. spends his Sunday afternoon making me a bookcase I've been wanting, and then repairs a battered screen door I dragged home so we can have a breeze through our kitchen this fall. And that's right-- he doesn't complain. Instead, he holds my hand as we walk home, teases me about my growing belly, and scritches the dogs' heads as they hustle him for attention when we walk though the door.

And then:

Even when we fight (and we do), he listens to me. He's been known to say he's sorry. And nothing truly hurtful comes out of his mouth, not ever. There are so many lines that he never crosses, and that's why our world-- which occasionally fills with grumpiness, anxiety, and nothing-for-dinners-- stays so magical. Because he always puts us first.

Because he's the best husband ever.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

why I love my writing gig

This morning, I went to interview a lady who I'd been told to call because she "has a house like nothing you've ever seen."

It is indeed, like nothing I've ever seen; she feeds catfish from her deck over the 5-acre "lake", there are cooing white turtle doves in a tall ironwork cage with a tin roof, and old windows hang from the edges of the porch like other people hang Boston ferns. I had a great time.

And when I left, I bore an invitation to a fish fry, jars of salsa, cinnamon spears, soup, and muscadine jelly, as well as an exhortation to measure my kitchen door to see if one of her three salvaged screen doors would fit.

People are so COOL down here.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

25 weeks say WHAT

Last night, I was dancing around K. with my shirt held up (it happens a lot these days) and he said, "you know that belly you wanted? It's here."

And it is! Baby girl is doing some GROWING, as evidenced by my eating about three shredded wheat bowls of cereal a day, staggered between my regular meals.

According to my baby site, the little princess is about 13+ inches long and weighs apound and a half. She moves often; oo, in fact, just now; otherwise, betrays little sense of personality. Except she just kicked me again. There are 15 weeks to go, and I have the sense that things will be a'changing.

My lovely husband bought me my first pair of maternity pants, which ROCK; my back hurts a bit more, and it's harder to be comfortable sleeping; otherwise, I feel like myself. Just with a growing stomach that contains a live creature that occasionally moves.

Not weird at all.

Monday, September 10, 2007

September 2nd: Jon and Sarah Marry

We left BG at 4.15 am to fly to Charlotte, NC for the wedding of Jon and Sarah.

Jon and I have been friends since I was 14. We haven't kept up the adolescent fervor of our high-school friendship, but we remain dear to each other, and after getting to know Sarah, she's become a good friend as well. I'm so glad they've married, and I wish them nothing but the best.

Their programs requested no church shots, so these are from their early evening reception:

Entering as man and wife:

A classic Jon expression:
Some cake-cutting action:
K. and me being goofy:

Sarah, me, and the belly:

And to end on a high note, the lovely Mrs. W.:

It was a grand time. And then-- they went to Costa Rica.

What we did not do this weekend

1. Wash/trim/reapply flea stuff to the dogs

2. Stay for the entire Ole Miss/Missouri football game

3. Go to church

4. work on my slipcover

5. Enjoy the stupid movie "Dune"

What we did do

-K. slept until eleven on Sunday, and then he called his seester

-We took the dogs for a long Sunday evening walk

-I read four books, two about babies and two novels

-K put his hand on my belly when the baby was kicking and felt her move

-all the laundry

All-in-all, we're a wee bit sad it's Monday.

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

BG pics

After a month of record heat and lack of rain in Mississippi, northern PA with its cool temperatures and clean glazier lakes was

We had two fantastic rows, numerous swims, and K. and his sister-in-law-- who bring out the kid in eachother-- finally got to go snorkeling:

Not to mention time to bond with my lil sis (thanks to our conversation, I finally tackled the stairmaster yesterday!)

The boys-- cousins and uncles of various degrees-- looked quite spiffy for the Saturday night dinner and dance.

And as always at vB gatherings, there was ample time to shoot cans with BB guns. K. kicked my cousins' arses.

It was the L.P.'s (little princess) first B.G. experience. She'll be shooting cans herself in no time.

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

On the Great Cow debate-- and etc.

LISTEN HERE, fellow liberals: boycott industrial feedlot beef, who are trucked all over America, fed corn that has been trucked all over the same America, not to mention grown by massive use of oil-run machinery and over-use of fertilizers ALL YOU WANT-- but for heaven's sakes, eating the grass-fed cow some poor sustainable-agriculture devotee down the road raised does NOT NOT NOT contribute to global warming because that said poor cow happens to POO and PEE and ergo contribute METHANE GAS and AMMONIA.

If we're getting rid of animals because of their emissions, why don't we start with animals we don't eat? Horses weigh about the same as cows, and if they belong to pretty little girls with rich parents, they're getting hauled around the country to jump over sticks and wheel around arenas, ergo using MASSIVE AMOUNTS of fuel while POOING the whole time.

Save the Sustainably-Raised Cows. Boycott Pony Clubs.

P.S. this is a joke. I don't think animals' emissions are our major problem. Please.