Et Tu, Tuesday?

Officially, Monday is the Day Of Doom at our house.  Mondays have been known to attack without warning. You need an example?

Yesterday (which was Monday, for those keeping score at home) Toby got an inexplicable bout of digestive badness resulting in explosive diarrhea.  I discovered this when he walked into the family room with a stream of brown running down one leg.  It was lovely.

Even MORE lovely, though, was hearing the dog lapping at something in the next room.  "Something" turned out to be a puddle of diarrhea that had collected on the floor after escaping the diaper.

That dog has kissed me on the mouth, people.  Not that I allow him to do that willingly, but he's 60 pounds of conniving lap-dog and sometimes you just can't dodge fast enough.

So I figured, once all the poopy chaos was cleaned up, we were clear for the rest of the week.

Not so, dear friends.

This morning, on his way to work, Big Daddy got into a car accident.  Fortunately, he walked away without injury.  Not so fortunate was his trusty jalopy, the 1990 Honda Civic, our beloved "Aqua Man Car".  (Jack named the car when Big Daddy first drove its teal gloriousness into the driveway.)

Rest in Peace, Aqua Man.

So if any marketing people from a major auto manufacturer happen by and want to give us a free car for his hour-long commute each way, I'm open to changing our middle name pick to "Chevy" or "Honda".  Okay, maybe not really, but I'll put an ad up for you and generally be your corporate love-muffin.  Totally a win-win, right?

So, yeah, back in reality-type-land, if anyone needs me I'll be busy perusing the local used car dealerships, crunching some numbers, and possibly stuffing my face with leftover birthday cake.  Also possibly calculating the relative street value of my prenatal vitamins.  They won't get you high but your hair and nails will be fabulously healthy! 

As for you, Tuesday... I'll deal with you later.  Maybe you can make it up to me: from now on, any calories consumed on Tuesdays don't count.  That would be a good start.  I mean, there's an awful lot of cake left.

Of Birth Days and Birthdays.

The internets, they have stolen a week of my life. 

More specifically, BabyZone's newsletter cheerfully informed me this morning that I am 32 weeks pregnant.  

The problem with this?  I had written on my little calendar (a paper and ink sort, because to keep track of anything concrete in my life requires me to rock it like it's 1987.  At least I don't refer to it as a "file-0-fax") that I was 31 weeks pregnant.  

I checked and double checked and asked my OB at my appointment this moning and, um, it appears BabyZone is correct and I am 32 weeks pregnant.

Well, Crap.

I had PLANS for that week, people!  I was excusing myself from stressing about kindergarten supply lists and back-to-school nights, about packing for the beach and perhaps packing my hospital bag.  I was giving myself a free pass because, after all, I wasn't in that final 2-month window of this pregnancy yet.

DAMN YOU, BABYZONE!

Big Daddy mentioned the other night that he thought I should go ahead and pack an emergency hospital bag.  Given that I have never gone into early labor - that, in fact, I have been twice successfully induced, I found his request silly in the extreme.  I asked him why I would want to do something so obviously unnecessary.  His reply? "I'm craving pickles.  It's a sign."  Yeah, it's a sign of something, all right.  *cough*

It is also possible I may be taking my sudden panic-and-hormone-induced mood swings out on my husband.  Just sayin', it's possible.  

It doesn't help one iota that Jack is now officially 5 years old.

FIVE. EFFING. YEARS. OLD.

How did I become the mother of a five-year-old?!  I mean, I know - technically - how it happened. (Several cocktails and a french maid costume for Halloween will tend to make that happen.) But how did five years go by? Where did this articulate little person with more skill for video games than his parents come from?  He even wipes his own behind now.  It's like having a very small adult in the house - albeit one who can still throw the occasional tantrum to make the earth tremble.

We celebrated the Birthday milestone in the usual way: there was cake, ice cream, the odd party game, and there were gifts.  I have photos of all of these things (especially the R2D2 cake, of which I am especially proud) but I've somehow misplaced the camera cable and you can hardly blame me because holy crap five years old!  

The weirdness just keeps getting weirder.  I realized today how horrified the teenagers at Hot Topic looked when the pregnant lady with the two kids came wandering in from the mall corridor to purchase new body jewelry.  What? I needed a new nose stud, and a new ring for my left ear.  But I could see it in their blankly-horrified expressions: This woman is way too old to be shopping at the Hot Topic.  But, hey, in five more years I can go in to buy purple hair dye for my skate-punk son.  The one who picked out a trucker hat that says "chairman of the board" at Old Navy today.  Also the one who told me that high tops were "so not cool, Mom".

And if his growing steadily into a pool of angsty no-longer-baby wasn't proof enough that time is passing me by at an alarming rate, the internet pregnancy calendar had to come along and steal another week of my life away.

I want that week back.  Also, I would like a 2-hour deep-tissue massage, a mini-van that gets 40 miles to the gallon, and one dappled pony.  And if anyone has seen my ability to form coherent thoughts, I'd appreciate the return of that as well.

Thanks.

Have You Seen My Brain?

The jet lag, she is a wicked mistress.  Jack keeps saying "Mommy? Do you need some coffee?" .  But it's not just the time difference... I am feeling the void that my girls left behind.  And nobody in my house can give a proper accessory critique.  I have worn flip-flops for 3 days now, and THEY ARE LETTING ME GET AWAY WITH IT.  If this keeps up, I will be busting out the banana clips and skorts in no time.  Save me!

It's so surreal, the being back home and doing of housework.  Oh, and lest I forget, the changing of diapers.  How lovely was it to wipe no behind but my own for 4 whole days, you ask?  SO LOVELY.  But all that was (nearly) forgotten the moment two sets of pudgy arms wrapped around my kneecaps.  It's a fine line to walk, this place between carefree city girl and pony-tailed, yoga-panted Mom.  

And I left my creativity swirling around in the ether, up with the foggy blanket over San Francisco.  I like to think it's just marinating there, soaking up a bit more of the melancholy of the bay.  Perhaps it will return to me once it is fully saturated.  Until then, I can always just post more photos of my dog in funny hats, right?  Or I could, um, plagiarize myself and take my email ramblings and put them up as today's post.  Which do you think I chose? (Mocha knows.)

And now off we go for the pre-kindergarten physical.  There will be shots, and so also tears... and then ice cream. 

This Is Not The Post You're Looking For.

No Jedi Mind Trick intended.  Seriously. This is not the post you are probably expecting.

See, the thing is, I am still working on processing the events of the past 4 days.  This conference, this Mythical THING that I attended, is still being digested.  It's a bit like the old saying about eating an elephant: one bite at a time.  

Here are a few quick bullets.  Think of them as a quick snack, with the more filling meal to follow.

* MochaMomma and Mallory the Magnificent were quite possibly the best roommates in history.  I felt like I was part of the world's most awesome sleepover.  Also, they swear I didn't snore AT ALL.  I suspect they're either sparing my feelings or just really, REALLY heavy sleepers.  Either way? Rule.

* I am officially in love with The Redneck Mommy.  I mean, I already had total girl-crushdom on her, but now I officially wanted to put her in my pocket and take her home with me.  I don't think she would have minded, but when I gave it more thought I realized that I don't really want to bring someone so obviously hotter than me home to meet Big Daddy.  The man might get ideas, and in my currently delicate condition I might be too slow to successfully beat his senses back into him with my ham sandwich.

* My one big regret of the conference would have been missing the Mighty Haus launch party but, after shaking my oh-so-pregnant groove thang for hours at the Ruby Skye party, I headed to bed just in time.  By the next morning my pelvis was creaking and it took me a good half hour to relearn how to walk properly.  So, yes, I missed my chance to give a heartfelt fangirl shout-out to Dooce and many others.  I did manage to steal a brief moment to chat with Mighty Maggie after her panel, though, and she was as lovely and gracious as I imagined she would be.  Also, she brought the leftover Krispy Kremes from her party to give out after her panel, and thereby purchased a special place in heaven.  (nummmmm, Krispy Kremes. Remind me someday to regale you with the glorious tales of Friday nights and a dozen fresh Krispy Kremes back in the glory days of a little site called Kozmo.com).

* People I am happy to have finally met face-to-face, however briefly:  Redsy, Velma Smeddling, Fluid Pudding, Oh, The Joys,  Amalah, and others I know I should remember and will look like a loser for forgetting to mention but oh mah gawd I am so tired and please forgive me and comment and remind me that Hi! We met, and I said it was great, and now I'm acting all aloof and do you want to break up or what, because we should totally meet up behind the gym after fifth period and have The Talk or whatever.  Also, most of the people I DID remember to mention will likely be all "MeL WHO, now?".  Oh, and I also met Bossy, who I was somehow unaware of until her Excellent Road Trip Adventures.  Her blog makes me laugh with regularity.  She is much taller than I expected, and also I might have accidentally almost strangled her with her scarf while attempting to dance with her at one of the parties - so basically SHE will remember me, but only as the insane pregnant woman who attempted to suffocate her with her own accessories, the end.

The posts I will write later, the ones brewing in my impish head, have less to do with the adventures of BlogHer than with the ideas that were planted in my head there.  The conversations were multitude, and I have been thinking through several essays on topics raised there.  So keep your eyes open for coming-soon posts on topics like Body Image, Why I Write, and MommyBlogging as a Radical Act.  These things require further percolating.  For now, then, I will continue to digest and maybe post some of the few photos I remembered to take.  

Also, I have to catch up on the latest episodes of Avatar, So You Think You Can Dance, and Monk.  Because, you know, Mama needs her stories.

Be Sure To Wear A Flower In Your Hair.

San Francisco.  The city is the same and different all at once; it's foggy and cool here, and the view from the 32nd floor party room was spectacular.

So far I have:

*Unwittingly snubbed a fellow BlogHer (sorry about not being more chatty on the shuttle! I was, um, sweaty. and tired. and didn't realize I probably came off as an unfriendly whore until much, much later.)

* Been screamed at by an Angry German.  Apparently I was supposed to print off the confirmation email to prove I had prepaid for my shuttle ride.  I didn't realize this, and I wasn't about to fork over another $20 (which I didn't have on me, anyway).  My apologies to the people who had to wait in the shuttle while I called my husband to get the confirmation number, and then while Mr. Angry German tried to call it in to confirm.  Also, apologies on his behalf to the people who got stuck behind the blue van because Mr. Angry German had parked illegally.  

*Attended 2 parties.  I met and molested several notables: Redneck Mommy? As UberHot as she appears in photos.  Oh, The Joys? Shorter and even more adorable than you thought.  CityMama?  I almost peed my pants when she looked at my business card and said "Hey! I know this blog."  

And now? Now it is approximately 11pm California time. That's 2am EST for those of you keeping track at home.  My head is going to explode any second, so I'm off to sleep.  I'll wave at Mallory for you; MochaMomma? She's still out painting the town somewhere.  That woman? Knows how to party.

To be continued, my friends.

Things You Should Know.

In just over 24 hours I will be heading to the airport for my 4 day Girl Extravaganza at BlogHer 2008.

If I didn't already have bladder control issues (thank you, pregnancy) this would likely send me running for a dry pair of granny panties.  I'm looking forward to meeting, in person, people who I have learned to adore on the internet.  I can't wait to put names with faces and grope give hugs to people whose words have alternately entertained, inspired, and elevated me. 

This woman is all big and important and, in case you haven't heard, an INTERNET PHENOMENON, etc, etc, etc.  When I stumbled across her, however, she was my first brush with a "mommy blogger" and her words helped me laugh and cry and find solace in some of the darkest days of my post-partum depression.  I had no idea she was a "somebody", but in those difficult days she never knew that she was the girlfriend who sat and had coffee with me and said "I've been there, and this will get better. You will get through this."  Also, she is a keynote speaker at the conference this year.  That feels like something coming full circle for me.

So, yeah, I have a lot of expectations about this conference.  And I'm hoping to meet a few people who can tell me Where To Go Next, because I do have the desire to branch out and maybe take on a few assigned pieces for other sites or something to that effect.  Because - all evidence to the contrary - I AM interested in writing about things besides the kids, my dog, my breasts, and the voices in my head.  So there's that.

In the interest of full disclosure, then, there are a few things you should know about me before my grand "coming out" at BlogHer.  

1) As I write this, I am sitting in my favorite multi-purpose item of maternity clothing: a shapeless, black, stretchy cotton housedress thing.  When I arrive in San Francisco with my multitude of carefully coordinated outfits, complete with matching jewelry, shoes, and purses, please recognize that I am not actually That Put Together.  It's a carefully crafted illusion, and when I get home I will probably take entirely too much joy in placing my fancy kicks back up on their shelf and slipping my feet into my fuzzy pink house slippers.

2) I am a drinker.  I am NOT an alcoholic, but were it not for the small resident in my uterus I would take great pleasure in joining you for a cocktail or three.  That said, my family has a talent for acting like a buncha drunks without the aid of alcohol.  Don't believe me? Just ask any of the many guests who asked, rather doubtfully, after my wedding if I was SURE my mormon family members weren't sneaking drinks behind the curtain.  Surprisingly, an overabundance of personality can be achieved without the aid of alcohol.  So if I appear a bit tipsy, rest assured it's just my natural exuberance.

3) If I remain sitting to talk to you, it's because my feet/back/pelvis/(insert other appropriate body part here) is aching from carrying the weight of another large baby.  Please don't think I'm rude, it's just that I'm quite ponderously large.  Also, I am not due until September so PLEASE don't ask me if I'm sure there's not twins in there.  I really am that big; I really am having just one; I'm really not due for another few months.  So glad we could get that out of the way.

4) Feel free to rub the belly, unless you are creepy or certifiable.  I am a firm believer that the buddha belly is good luck, and if spreading a little luck around will come back to help me out... well, my karma can always use a boost.  

5) Bonus points to anyone who says things like "You only had one dessert; now you need to eat one for the baby!" or "But you look too fantastic to be having your THIRD baby!"  I'll know that you're lying, but I'll love you anyway.

6) If I swap my fabulous shoes for a pair of flip-flops sometime during the afternoon, please pretend not to notice.  Pregnant women? Our feet swell in the summer.

7) If you recognize me, PLEASE come and say hello!  I may act skittish and awkward, but that's just because I'm not used to it yet.  I made an art form of being invisible for most of my adolescence, and breaking out of that mold is not the easiest thing to do.  

8) When I get nervous, I tend to talk faster and faster until I may appear to be speaking a foreign language.  I'm working on it; please forgive me.   

9) In attempt to curb inappropriate language use in front of the small humans I have developed a whole host of "alternative curses" which may include such phrases as "Jimminy Christmas!", "Son of a biscuit!", "Frickity-fricking-FRAKK!".  Please avert your eyes and understand that I am aware of my own weirdness.  I'm quirky - let's just accept that and move on.

10) I really suck at keeping lists, being on time, and pretty much anything that involves minute-to-minute organization.  If I stumble into a session 10 minute late, please smile encouragingly and offer me the open seat next to you.  I promise it will be worth your while; what I lack in organizational skills I more than make up for with charm... and chocolate.  Also, I usually smell very nice.

So there we are.  I'm sure there's more that you should know about me, but that will give you a good base.  Well, that and a fair warning that I have a habit of smacking people I find charming on their bum.  Like I said, I'm a little quirky.

I'm not sure how much time I'll have for posting while I'm on my adventure; I do expect to twitter at least intermittently, so you can look for me there.. but just in case you're not going to be in San Francisco this weekend, let's plan to meet back here on Monday, shall we?

Summer Book Review #2

This review was SUPPOSED to be about The Road by Cormack McCarthy.  

But then I began to read it, and I realized that my mushy, pregnant brain and McCarthy's beautiful but sparse (and, Holy Hannah Montana, I mean sparse) prose combined to give me a splitting headache 4 pages into the first chapter.

I know - Blasphemy! It won a frakking Pullitzer!  But apparently the selection committee wasn't made up of hormonal pregnant women.  I'll get back to it in a few weeks, I swear.

In the mean time, I moved right along to another book from The List.  This time it was Water for Elephants by Sarah Gruen.

I was a big fan of the short-lived HBO show Carnivale.  I didn't finish it out, however, because it started to get too weird.  And, really, what I loved about it was the depression-era circus culture.  Okay, so it wasn't technically a circus - it was a carnival.  But you get the idea.  This book tapped right into that fascination, complete with photos from the era.  Apparently, the author herself was inspired to write the book after coming across a collection of these photos.  

The Era of the Depression is as foreign a world to us of this digital generation as the French Revolution was to Americans of that era.  Add to that the romantic and strange world of Circus life and the effect is as disorienting and fantastical as the world from any science-fiction piece I have ever read.

The story of Jacob and his sudden immersion into the realities of the depression amidst personal tragedy ends up really being a framework to explore the unique relationships of the Circus folk.  The character is allowed to move between the various classes of Circus society with relative ease throughout the story.  

The strange freedom of his adventures is in stark contrast to the state of modern-day Jacob, who spins the tale of his memories from the confines of his restrictive nursing home.  

I was utterly captivated by the characters in the tale; Kinko the dwarf-clown, Marlena the glamorous horse trainer, and the larger-than-life Uncle Al - the man in charge of the Benzini Brothers Circus.  Each return to Jacob in present day felt like being ripped from the bustling sights and smells of the circus midway and crammed into the cages with the animals Jacob tended as Circus Vet.  

The book is heavier than I anticipated; this isn't a fluffy bit of cotton-candy summer reading, for sure.  That said, I found myself staying up past bedtime to finish "just one more chapter" and I nearly over-processed the dye on my hair when I lost track of myself in the middle of a chapter that included a funeral procession for a deceased "Fat Lady" who was displayed in an elephant cage.  (Thankfully, I came to my senses in time to wash out the color before could turn myself into "The Bald Lady with Burned Scalp" and join a sideshow, myself.) 

So there we are.  Oh, and there IS an elephant, as well.  A lovely girl named Rosie.  

Now, on to "The Devil in the White City" by Erik Larson.  Which I suppose means I'm reading 2 history-related works in a row.  Look, Ma! I'm reading for fun AND getting edumacated!

BlogHer Approacheth

This is what I look like on a typical morning.

Note the shiny, lick-able macbook.  Also, the shiny, lick-able pregnant lady - with hair desperately in need of some stylist attention.  That would be me.

I leave for BlogHer in 6 days, y'all.  I am a ball of excitement, anxiety, and hormones.  (Literally - a ball.  I have the spherical dimensions to prove it.)  Right now, I am doing my best to get through the weekend without losing my mind.  Big Daddy is off searching for his lost youth being manly with the other manly men on the New River Gorge.  The kids are attempting to kill each other with carefully applied blows from pool noodles.  The dog, for once, is giving me no trouble whatever.  I am taking all of these as signs of the impending apocalypse; seeing as I just gave myself a pretty decent pedicure, I'm hoping apocalypse can wait until after I get back from San Francisco.

Speaking of Apocalypse, however, we have tentatively begun the next round of potty training at our house.  Mostly this involves Tobin removing his diaper after he's already made a deposit of some sort, and only then asking to be placed on the toilet.  I was planning to put off the whole potty training thing until the spring at this point - what with the baby coming in September and all.  Because I already carry around a full plate of crazy, and this might just push me over the edge.  Won't you come hold me, and bring me something chocolate?

 Toby has also discovered the joys of marking his territory around the house.  The sometime delay between his removal of diaper and the application of a new one has provided ample opportunities for him to put this new talent to use in a multitude of places.  Fun for the whole family! He has so far peed on: the carpet, the wall, the chairs, several books, a few unfortunate toys, and the stereo receiver.  

Once again, lucky to have this face.  

Especially after peeing on expensive electronics.

I'm holding out the completely impossible hope that his father will have better luck with this process while I am out of town.  To be honest, though, I'll be happy if I make it there and back and there are no reports from the home front of fires, floods, trips to the emergency room, or sudden illness.  Bonus for nothing with a value more than twenty bucks being urinated on.  Double bonus if there is no repeat of the unspeakable "baby squats on bathroom rug" incident which shall never be mentioned again.

And with that, I am suddenly reminded that perhaps I am in need of a few days away from home even more than I realized.  6 days to go, people.

Rejected but not Dejected.

So to the surprise of exactly nobody, I was not selected to read at the BlogHer Community Keynote.  However, that said and my minor disappointment aside, quite a few people whom I alternately admire and adore were, indeed, selected. I will live vicariously through them and also probably give them some of my drink tickets so I can watch enviously as they sip the martinis I wish I could have.

Although technically my drink tickets don't belong to me and I'm really giving away her drink tickets, since as my room mate she has already staked her fair claim on them.  

But I digress, and y'all can fight her for them later.  Seriously. I'll make a fortune selling tickets to that spectacular, which is much more reasonable than my idea for the Pregnant Caged Death Match - Me vs. Amalah.  Because everyone knows pregnant women don't do caged death matches.  At least not when there is a buffet in the vicinity.  Unless they're fighting over the last slice of pineapple upside-down cake.  MMmm.... cake.

But, er, BlogHer is only a week away, people!  My head is aching with the sorting through my rapidly dwindling selection of "cute maternity clothes that still fit my enormously bulky girth" and the choosing between money for groceries or a new pair of lust-worthy shoes.

So dedicated am I to this whole proposition that I even managed to give myself a pedicure today.  Imagine sitting on a kitchen chair with a yoga ball strapped to your stomach. Good. Now try to lean over and reach your toes.  Yeah, that's a fair approximation of what I just went through.  But I managed it, and my feet are velvety soft and the french pedicure even came out respectable.  You may now marvel at the greatness of my accomplishment.  Me? I'll be over here snarfing down more cake.

OH! And speaking of cake... (smooth transition, right?!)

Happy 30th Birthday to Big Daddy!

We celebrated the occasion early - way back on the 4th - so that he could be surrounded by loved ones when he came to terms with his mortality blew out his candles.  I even got a cake with appropriately funerary festive black roses, because I'm thoughtful that way.

Mmm... cake.

Does not look 30.

So today he is OFFICIALLY 30, and we celebrated again with a Funfetti cake expertly crafted with the help of the small humans.  Also, he received new boxer shorts and Hanes undershirts as gifts because, obviously, I am the best wife EVAR.  

Actually, his real gift comes this weekend when he heads out to the wilds of the New River for a weekend of camping and whitewater rafting with the proverbial "guys".  I'm not sure what all this weekend entails beyond probably head injuries, possible drowning, and the odd weenie roast. (Not a euphemism... so far as I am aware, anyway).  I'm guessing there will also be mass quantities of beer and maybe some manly chest bumping.

So Happy Birthday, Baby.  Enjoy all the opportunities for untimely death and male bonding.  Just be careful, and remember that you're not as young as you used to be.  You know - like, yesterday.

Going Under / Surfacing

It has been a plethora of days (yes, I said PLETHORA) since I posted.

There are very good reasons for this.  I have been BIZZY, y'all.  For a woman as monstrously pregnant as I currently am, busy equals tired.  I'm not just talking your run-of-the-mill, after company tired.  Oh No.  This is bone weary, "why are the nights so short and who are these small people begging for breakfast?" exhausted tired.

My sister and her family were delightful to have with us for the 4th Holiday, and the boys each became a Mini-Me for their older cousins.  In order to fully appreciate the extent of this tiny clone phenomenon, you must please refer to the following photographic evidence:

Corban and Tobin: The Blonde Ambition Tour

Rees and Jack get Cheeky.

And, yes, her boys are as "photo-negative" of each other as mine are.  Weird, I know.

Our good friends, who recently purchased the home across the street from us, also joined us for the holiday festivities.  Big Daddy and Mister Joe were in charge of manning the grill.  In the pouring rain.

Gives new meaning to the phrase "wet ribs".  The bbq ribs, by the way, were spectacular.

We spent a great few days in the company of my sister's family, and then waved them on their way on Sunday morning.  Then, Sunday afternoon, we welcomed my cousin Katie, my cousin Mike, and 4 of Mike's eight (yes, EIGHT) children into the homestead for an evening of chatter and Rock Band ruckus.  I still rock out on the drums, by the way, even if I have to lean back to reach them around The Belly.

And then, on Monday morning, I died.  The End.

Okay, not really.  But the housekeeper came.  Did I mention we now have a lovely woman coming in twice a month to scrub the bathrooms and do the floors?  Because my bulky self can't manage it any more, and yes I do feel incredibly bourgeois about it all, but there it is, and it saves my sanity.  Anyway, the housekeeper came and so I spent Monday morning doing house cleaning to prepare the way for her, and then I spent the afternoon digging out from under the mountains of laundry.  

And then, this morning, I died for real, which explains why it is now nearly 11pm and I am finally getting around to posting this rather sad summary of a really exceptional weekend.  I managed a 2-hour nap this afternoon and, after dinner at a local Mexican restaurant followed by ice cream at The Cone Zone, we finally got the boys bathed and into bed and settled in a bit for the evening.  

And now, my friends? Now I go to sleep the sleep of legends.  And tomorrow? Well, tomorrow Big Daddy turns 30.  Don't tell him I told you.  More on that later.

Nighty night!

You Can Learn A Lot Of Things From The Flowers

These blossoms are mostly gone now; Salvias don't like the heat of July.  While they lasted, though, the blooms were spectacular.  Without fail, every time I looked I would find at least one very focused bee going around and around the stalk to visit each tiny flower.

June has already faded into the sweaty, humid summer fervor of July.. but for a while there were Golden Afternoons in the front yard.  The boys would run and ride bikes and lay in the grass with me under the cool shade of the Bradford pear tree.  

We bloomed in June, right along with the rainbow of flora in the yard.  I was as frantically busy as those bees: painting, sewing curtains, scrubbing, moving furniture around.  June is a good month for nesting.  Those flowers? They're really on to something.

July will be a busy, sweaty month.  Although there is a lot to look forward to (Hello, BlogHer!) I have a feeling that by month's end I will be as wilted as the rest of the blossoms.

But the memories of our golden afternoons in the sunshine? Those should go a long way towards getting me through the next hectic weeks.. and our planned trip to the beaches of the Outer Banks will swoop in just in time.

So I've been AWOL for a few days, but really I've just been busy with the cleaning and the napping and such.  Yesterday I sat down to write a wildly entertaining post - really I did! - but then I fell asleep in my computer chair with my feet propped up on the back of the sofa.  

I'll try to be better, really I will.  My sister Kim and her family are arriving tonight and will be with us through the weekend, though, so I may be patchy with the posting until next week. 

Have a Happy July 4th everybody.  Try not to blow off any digits while lighting wildly over-the-top fireworks displays for the kids.  (Or at least take pictures if you do.)