33 weeks and other updates

In my ongoing travels across the southern states, I drove to Tupelo yesterday for a check-up on the baby girl.

She's good. I'm good. It's time to make a birth plan and meet with a pediatrician, so that we're allowed to have the baby sleep in our room at the hospital (incredibly progressive for Mississippi, and requiring a doctor's approval).

I washed my first load of onesies and cloth diapers last night, with seventh generation baby detergent; no doubt completely unnecessary, but hey, it's exciting. 7 weeks doesn't seem very long at all.

--

In other news, John and Christy came for a visit! There was much eating, walking, and free shows on NBC-viewing, not to mention the boys' incessant plotting TO.BUILD.A.GLOBAL.EMPIRE.

In between, we walked around Rowan Oak (Faulkner's house, and a neat place to have around).

I had a mighty good time posing for K.



He had a lot of fun too.



Note the lollipop. The man bought 4x the amount of Halloween candy we needed, and then refused to give the children more than "two pieces, and one small". He also tried to bribe me into shutting our lights off and refusing to open the door, so he could have it ALL.

I refused, as it was my first time living in a place where there are trick-or-treaters, and I subsequently angsted over whther or not they'd come to our door and if we had the "right" candy". When the first tricker-treaters arrived, I began waving maniacally at them.

As always, it's a toss-up on who's crazier.

more pics

John and Christy come tonight, and I have a feeling my VA pics will get lost in the sands of time. SO:

I was the first child of Wall Street finance people, and thus I was spoiled in my first 3 years of life-- that was before them "Appalachian" days. So, my parents asked a 2-yr-old me to design a sweather they would then have knitten, and I said I wanted to look like a taxi cab.

Hence:

Eliza got me the belly cream that "all the stars use" because she is the cutest sister ever (and indeed, it's really refreshing. I'll keep you posted on stretch marks):



My great-grandmother was the only crafty person in my family lineage. She made this quilt for my mother-- isn't it neat?:



I went out for cider Saturday morning and came home to find family and friends-- a surprise mini-shower!



Me looking like a knocked-up 12yrold, just for fun:

A shot OF Lexington-- I love how if you took out the cars, it'd look like an antique photograph-- putting the powerlines underground in the '60s paid off for them:

And finally, quintessential Virginia:

Hitting it hard in Mississippi

I made it home Sunday night.

And then everything began... interviews, deadlines, proofing, novel, CRAZY amounts of unpacking, plus trying to squeeze some pampering in for my sweetie since he took such excellent care of both the house and the girls while I was gone, going as far as to mop the house so my brain wouldn't explode out of my ears when I got home... he did neglect taking care of HIMSELF, though, and worked like crazy while I was gone, meaning that I've been trying to stuff vegetables into him and send him off with good lunches and generally resuscitate him from 9 days of work/work/lots of cheese and deli meats/and, of course, work.

Not to mention that the Little Princess grows ever bigger. K. saw my belly jiggle like a bowlful of jelly last night, which was satisfying for me (since I'd been telling him about this new phenomenon) and frightening for him. I'm at 32 weeks! 8 more and we should/could have a baby in this house!

But the girls need to be walked, the novel needs to be written, and I've got to convince a couple toughies to let me interview them.

Happy Thursday, and welcome to November.

Some pics from VA:


Calico, the mentally retarded but very happy cat:
Eliza and Mum:

Soco, the crazy dog:
And the three of us (taking this shot meant my camrea was perched on a fence post, I was sprinting through a corral, and the horses got out, so enjoy):

Still in Virginia

 

I begin the slow trek southernwards tomorrow. But for now-- off to eat some of Mum's stew, a friend's venison, and await the arrival of my little sister.

woo Virginia!

I am waiting for the UPS man to deliver my maternity jeans, the will to pack/make-the-bed/clean-out-the-car, and then I am off for my yearly visit home.

Here's my itinerary:

tonight, I spend with Danielle in my old stomping grounds of Nashville.

Saturday, I take over my little sister's bed in Lexington, VA, a beautiful small town with old brick houses and home to Washington and Lee University...

Sunday and Monday nights, me and the L.P. will be snoozing at Maple Hall, a historic inn with miles and miles of walking trails and a breakfast I'm quite excited about....while hanging out with the mum and the lil sis, viewing the Maury river, and generally being outside as much as possible...

Tuesday-Friday nights, I'll slumber in my childhood room, take LP for lots of walks across the fields, and tell her all about where her mama grew up, as well as eating vast numbers of apples from the orchard down the road and drinking some super-good locally made cider. I've had the biggest apple cravings this fall. They don't got no apple trees in Mississippi. Plus I'm gonna see my grandpa, and maybe head to the outlet malls (they don't got those in Mississippi either).

Saturday night, back in Lexingon with the lil sis (it's 2 hours closer to Nashville)...

Sunday night, Nashville with Danielle once again...and then Monday, I'll drive the 4 hours home and see my sweetie, bearing meat from Wild Oats, apples from Virginia, and kisses galore.

I'm going to take lots of pictures and think many deep thoughts, so brace yourselves.

30 weeks, pumpkins, and pooches

Baby girl weighs about 3 lbs now and is 16 inches long, according to the stats. She moves more, sometimes making me go "whoa" and place my hand over my belly. She's still not talking. Her papa is reading a labor support handbook and we're both getting increasingly excited about her arrival...seems so far away still, but Christmas is coming...

It's a cloudy and --finally-- raining day today, but I think the mums and our super-cool pumpkins keep the porch purty. We have a wide front porch and a porch off our room, but since this is the entrance/exit one (as well as the smallest), it ends up being the most decorated by default. Please know we have no garage or shed to keep things like weedwhackers or bikes in, so...


Guess which pumpkin is mine (damn K. and his Martha Stewart pumpkin abilities):

These morning glories are supposed to be Heavenly Blue, but they bloom white nonetheless:



And lastly, our girls:



Happy Wednesday!

What My Monday Looks Like

I don't usually blog about my work life, so here it is:

I am wearing my hair in pigtails, haven't yet showered, and am drinking my 2nd cup of tea. I've made some phone calls to track down interview subjects for the next 2 weeks, and I'm drafting this week's interview, which is due to my editor tomorrow by noon (which is why I'm at the computer; computer=internet=too-much-distraction-for-the-novel).

This morning, I spent some time writing in my current composition notebook (I'm going through about one a month, and I'm bad about typing the novel up, so I fear their loss/destruction.) I wrote about a fourth of my daily quota before transitioning into the busy work of the day; after lunch, I'll get back to sitting pen-in-hand and marching forward with Alice and Sam, the second novel.

I've got 37,000 words typed and 25,000-ish untyped, for a total word count of 63,000-ish (got to make it to 80k at least, though 90k is my goal). That's not including the month's work that I threw out early on.

Writing is hard, and I tend to do it in short spurts; it requires actual brain power, no busy work involved, and so it's by far the most challenging thing I've ever done. I have lots of lists, index cards, and outlines; it's kind of like knitting; I can't drop the Theo's-romance-with-Connie stitch, or Sam's-career, even though he's super-focused on Matilda right now... just a lot of stuff to keep track of, and I have an increasingly small brain (as K./ pointed out to me. Apparently pregnancy actually diminishes--TEMPORARILY--the number of brain cells or something like that. I'd kick him but I keep forgetting.)

This afternoon, after lunch and drafting away in my notebook, I'll force myself to return to the computer so I can type up another thousand words of the already-drafted stuff. It's amazing how far this story has come.

The novel is my constant daily work; the interview stuff ticks away, one subject a week; proofing, my most lucrative and boringassignments, comes when it comes, 2-3x a month with no warning. I write a personal column every other month, which takes no time at all. It's all about deadlines, baby, and I meet mine.

This novel will be drafted, and typed up, by Thanksgiving. Polished and sent out to agents/publishers by Christmas.

Despite the fact that the only people expecting it are my husband and my mother :)

weekend, fall

We have now lived in Mississippi for a year. I know this because K. and I saw the pumpkin patch at the Episcopalian church in Oxford last week; hey, I said. That was here when we moved down here.

And here it is again.

October is a fine time in Mississippi. As I type this, the sky shines bright blue with no humidity, the doors are open and it's a touch chilly, cool enough so that I'm wearing a sweater and sipping K's homemade butternut squash soup. If tonight's like last night, we'll be glad of the extra duvet on our bed and we'll sleep in t-shirts to hold heat close to our chests.

Our fall garden is in and-- with the exception of the newbie brussel sprouts, who haven't done much-- thriving. 18 broccoli plants, 18 cauliflower plants, a bed of turnips, and a bed of mustard greens. I went out just now and ate one. They're delicious so young, tender and not yet bitter, but still spicy. If the brussel sprouts take off, we will eat them the way K. loves (cribbed from my Silver Spoon cookbook): boiled a wee bit, just to make them tender, then sauteed in butter, sprinkled with salt, pepper, and a touch of nutmeg, and then doused in grated Parmesan. Mmmm mmmm good.

I've got a big date with pillow forms, fabric, and my new scissors for tomorrow, while K. will be at the building as usual. There's a band playing downtown in the park tomorrow evening, and Sunday-- well, we don't make plans beyond church for Sundays, but I have a feeling that the two pumpkins on our porch might be meeting the sharp side of a knife.

I don't think I've ever been so glad to leave summer behind.

25 down, 70ish to go

Thanks to everyone who called or wrote on my birthday! So many nice people in my life.

No more gushing about the husband, but he was very, very nice. To me. Through hours of grumpiness. I owe him a backrub or two...

But it's late, and I'm rather tired; we stayed up late last night watching Scrubs, eating apple cake, and tiptoeing into the kitchen periodically to view our new... refrigerator! The used hunk-of-junk we'd bought upon discovering our rented home didn't COME with a fridge stopped keeping food cold a month ago.

One disastrous order with Sears and much sniffing of the milk later, we received this from a different company entirely:



Isn't it beautiful?



Not to mention Energy-star certified (the least we can do), and the smallest regular size at 18.3 cubic feet. I am of the opinion that Americans overestimate their need for refrigeration, and anyway, we have plenty of room (sorry about the rotation, but note the convenient cheese drawer on the upper left):


By the time the chilluns come along, I hope to have a root cellar and a chest freezer.

And here are the presents of the hour:



The vase is lovely, much-needed given my predilection for flowers, and I kept finding lovely wrapped bars of lavender soap (another weakness of mine) around the house yesterday from my darling husband, but this, this is what makes my heart sing:



After making two slipcovers with what kindergarteners use to cut construction paper, these chrome-covered, carbon-steel babies with a lifetime guarantee and a snick that resounds with the angels make me go all soft inside.

And, as requested by my m-i-l, some belly shots, one taken last night as I dig into presents:



15 pounds gained, many clothes outgrown, and a definite waddle beginning to develop. 11 weeks (out of 40) to go!

The downlow on the LP

(I am so hip, I just can't STAND myself)

Today is a big Baby day. I am now 28 weeks preggers (out of 40, people!) and that means that I am now officially in my third trimester.

Say it with me: whoa.

Like most of this whole pregnancy deal, things change slllloooowwwwlllly, so my belly is pretty big-- but if I wear a loose shirt, I could totally FOOL you--, I am waiting for my innie to become an outtie, and nothing seems that different. Unless I think about not being pregnant. That was way different.

The Little Princess should now have a good chance of surviving if I were to go into labor, thanks to all that preemie medicine stuff, which totally creeps me out because the bebe weighs just over 2 lbs, if she's like other kids, and measures about 15 inches. I'm willing to bet she's taller.

She can hear and sense light. She may or may not have eye lashes. Weird, eh? She moves around a fair bit, though those of you familiar with my placental situation understand that that's still acting as a big old shock absorber; as she continues to get bigger, that will matter less and less.

And as for me?

I'm very excited. Very excited indeed. We're getting the carpet in the nursery replaced, FINALLY, so I can really set things up in there, and I'll return from my late-October visit to the farm with a crib. We'll be ready to roll by Thanksgiving. Because I need a month or so to sit in the baby room, hold up impossibly wee onesies, and giggle to myself.

Finally, fall

Until I moved to Mississippi, I'd classify myself firmly as a late spring/summer person. The green, the late nights, the prospect of those two 3-day weekends...I'm a fan.

But in Mississippi...the warm weather has lasted too long. Plus, I've got a winter baby to look forward to, and so I'm welcoming the bright blue skies and decreasing nighttime temperatures. Don't get me wrong-- it's still around 90 degrees each day here, but the humidity has fallen away, and the air conditioning is off; we sleep with screen doors open to sixty-degree temperatures, cool enough to make a morning sweater necessary, and I'm loving it.

A few photos:

The "before" shot of the kitchen/lineoleum area, with its ugly ugly bookcase:

The after-shot-- ok, not really, but look at the sofa! I made the slipcover myself! And K. made the boocase! And we made my huge belly! And that's my mum and Anika!

A shot of my beautiful German sister, along with another peek at the couch:

And lastly, evidence of the nesting mode (I sorted our table linens this Sunday. Placemats, napkins, stained but clean clothes, and dishrags):

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.

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?

best.baby.shower.ever!

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.

domesticicity

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...

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 love.ly.



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.

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.