Indolence is Bliss

At least, that's my theory. That also explains why there are no pics in today's post - I'm too lazy to go & get the camera.

Nothing too new other than the snow (boo!) & the little radiant electric heater that the man got me for the basement (yay!).

Also, we've officially reached the halfway point - and my belly still looks tiny, compared to most pregnant people I see. On the other hand, people are wearing winter jackets, so to look pregnant under a parka you really REALLY are!

The entire world seems to have turned into a kind of sociological experiment for me. Witness the gym - I've been swimming since I can't con myself into 'enjoying' the rest of the gym. Swimming lengths, however, I do like*. And the change room is such a wealth of parenting examples! There's the mom who's helping her little person figure out the numbers on the combination lock, the other mom who lets her kids pick whichever locker they want ("Remember, 94. 94.") She's got to have some fun after lessons, as she had three little kids, & there was no logical or sequential order to their choices. Those moms both seem cool, & their kids seemed to be having fun.

Today I ran into the first mom who gave me a cold prickly, which was surprising. I was just in the process of getting dressed, & while I will shower nekkid freely, I'm not one of those lounge-around-the-change-room-air-drying-my parts-for-hours people either. Once I'm out of the shower, I'm under my towel. Or, various parts of me are as I struggle to dry off, get dressed, & keep my sodden hair from soaking me, my clothes, etc. Today, I quit swimming early, driven out by the kids in swimming lessons. Who knew that a six year old built like a twig could make that much of a splish Splish SPLASH in the lane next to me?

Anyways. So I had showered, dried off, lotioned up my belly, & had gotten into my pants, & just stuffed my hair into a towel. I was pretty much ignoring the moms & tots wandering through. As I was struggling into my tank top (darn wet skin! always so sticky!), I noticed the mom at the far left of me take her son's face by both cheeks & pointedly turn his head away from me.

Now, I've enjoyed/been plagued by my share of prurient** glances, and let me say: this kid, who was maybe 4 1/2 or 5, was simply looking at me because I was the only thing moving in his line of vision. There wasn't even curiosity about my boobs.

And the mom's body language didn't say "now junior, we've talked about no staring in the change rooms", it said "that shameless hussy! look away! scarlett woman at 3 o'clock!". I felt sheepish at first, and then offended, and then perplexed. And also defensive - I have a wedding band, see? And a pregnant belly, see? I can't be a smoldering vixen of evil!***

And really, what's so wrong about boobs? Netween babies & grown men, I'd say over half of society is fixated on them. My only wish is that augmentation was not so needed/desired by society. And if the little boy is curious about boobs, why, he can go & find out where any healthy prairie boy should go - the Sears catalog.

Also, if his mother is so upset over female nudity in the female changerooms, then why in mercy's name didn't she use the mother/son changeroom?**** Are there more boobies in there? Bigger boobies? Boobies that make eye contact? Who can say.

All I know is: 1) she threw a little rock in my mental pond, & 2) I need to start thinking about this early: if the Fish is a boy, how boob friendly should his life be? Should I have a parade of strange (ie: not mine) boobs coming & going before he's three, so he's all jaded about them (at least until the hormones kick in)? Or should he only go to the pool with his dad, thereby only being exposed to man-boobies, which in my opinion are far more psychically scarring, as they have hair! Chest hair is fine, man boobs, whatever, but hairy man-bobs- aieeeeee!!!

Well, now that I've used boob just about as much as Dooce does, I should sign off & go & raid the Halloween candy. Nighty nooties.

*Once I get the ratted rubber swim cap on - aiee!
**Prurient - having, inclined to have, or characterized by lascivious or lustful thoughts, desires, etc. Opposite of prudish. Which was his mother.
***Except on weekends. And it's Monday today.

****Look what has happened to me!!!! I began a sentence with a conjunction! Horrors! Look away, Susan & Coreen!

Skulls, Mysteries, Pumpkins, etc.

Heya! So... Pumpkins, aka jack-o-lanterns:

L-R in order, Pat, Kourtney, Coreen, & Michelle.

And one more from Pat.
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Mystery?

Does my belly look smaller than last week? Pure optical illusion, if it does...
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Skulls?

I'm pleased to introduce our sweet baby. He looks like a skull because his bones are starting to calcify, & that reads better than soft tissues do. Here's a side view, with her little arm tucked up by her head...

And a back view - is that dorsal? Anterior? Posterior? Luckily, while I've never taken an anatomy class, some of YOU have, so there. Maybe you can see his zyphoid process or somethin'.

And yes, the final mystery - he, she, whichever the baby is, it's a shy & stubborn baby & wouldn't let us see. Doesn't she realize I'm going to be... erm, WE'RE going to be changing a lot of diapers, & he can't keep it a secret forever????

What I've Been Working On Lately

Interesting fact: if a newfie asks you "Who Knit ya?", there are not inquiring about your fabulous sweater/toque/scarf/etc... they're asking who your parents are.
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Because of that, I find amusement in contemplating how many kntting projects I've got in various states... scarves, hats, mitteny things, blankies, sweaters, bags... in varying states of contemplation, request, rework, beginning & completion.
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I (finally) finished Pat's sweater - it's nice & roomy for wearing to football games:

And I dyed the plain merino that I bought in New York:

And then there's this:

Last night, I realized I was behind in belly pics, but I waited until today, as we'd just finished a big turkey dinner. (I didn't want to alarm anyone when my belly suddenly got smaller...)

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Off to a warm (not hot) bath now!

Salmon to Watch Over Me

I used to send postcards to Sarah that were all from her imaginary lover, Raoul. Raoul was also the father of Coyotito, their imaginary child. Over the years, Raoul traveled around the world, professing his love from afar, & Coyotito got really good at soccer.

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The first postcard in the series was particularly entertaining for two reasons. One, the image was of a salmon in a bonnet pushing a baby carriage. Two, I sent it to her when she was living in E______ with her parents. Her mom would pick up the mail on her way home from the library, & Sarah would usually end up at home a bit later. One afternoon, Sarah got home to a slightly frosty interrogation.
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"And who is Raoul?" queried the mother of all mothers. (Or should that be the Mother of all Mothers? If you've met Sarah's mom, then you'll know what I mean.) (And don't get me wrong, I love Sarah's mom.) To this day, I still don't know if Sar's mom thought the whole thing is as funny as we did.

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Have you guessed the secret word in the above ramble yet? It's SALMON!

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We were in Salmon Arm for the long weekend, to join the rest of the extended family in celebrating Gramma & Grampa's 60th wedding anniversary. The date isn't actually until Nov. 19th, but at 59 years, 10 months, & 29 days, they've got me beat solid. As much as I try, I just can't imagine being married for twice as long as I've currently been alive. And I'm very happy to be married. It's just to be married for so long... wow. It was wonderful to see everyone, and we took some great photos, but they're all of family so I'm not posting them because I know I don't mind my pic on my blog, but who can say about anyone else's feelings.

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The other thing we took pictures of was the salmon run! It was pretty astounding. And, contrary to my fears, I was not skeeved out by the fish - they were fascinating, although the dead ones smelled very very very bad. And I'm not posting the photos the man took because I don't think I have enough strength to overcome the gravitational field of the couch when I walk past it to get the camera. Instead, courtesy of the intarweb, here is a picture of two salmon at the culmination of their run, when they quit running & instead swim very hard to stay in one place. The good looking salmon is the girl.

You can't tell? They're both girls, actually. The boys have these bizarre hooked jaws/snouts. (Can a fish have a snout?)

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Actually, yes, at least one can. The Fishy-Baby is now about the size of a large avocado (bigger than a pear), and his little nose is finished growing. He's working on toenails this week.

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I'm going to go & work on an experiment involving my gravitational forcefield joining that of the couch, & also possibly dessert.

AMAZING! GIANT APE DAMAGE REPAIRED!

Well, here we are still in NY. I only wish that we'd been there as long as it's taken for me to post about it... New York was so great.

I took lots of photos of Pat, but I'm really beginning to suspect that he doesn't like having his picture taken. This is one of the better of him, atop the Empire State Building...

Of course, he might have that look on his face as a reaction to the line up we were herded through.Obviously, I've got more patience (or experience) with lines - I'm smiling.

Although, it did take three shots before Pat got one of me not blinking. And here's the city, smiling pretty for it's close-up...

For New York, this shot is actually the equivalent of taking a picture of Pat's left eyebrow. I took a series of photos left to right, but can't stitch them together to post, so, like the Fishy video, you'll just have to wait!