I wish you my heart.

I'm woefully behind on blogging, waylaid by last weekend's wonderful visit with the in-laws (more on that later), a week's worth of projects crammed into precious few days, a kick ass bend-me-over the toilet all afternoon migraine headache accompanied by my first experience with Braxton Hicks contractions and generally just being engaged with living my days rather than chronicling them. Then of course there's been this directly passed holiday weekend as well....


Ziggy's been ever more mobile and one recent morning fresh out of the shower with hair in a top-knot and a towel that no longer wraps round me, the Beloved Mister said, "Babe, You look like a Sumo wrestler!"

Honestly, I quite nearly burst into tears, then laughed raucously instead, told him that that was a terribly mean thing to say and he could only say good and nice things for the rest of the day. He immediately told me what a beautiful pregnant glow I have and I pictured my glowy round self on the mats taking down a five hundred pound Japanese wrestler.


Over the long weekend I visited my folks in East Tennessee, celebrated my sister Dana's birthday with her, swam and played with my little nieces and went to church to see / hear them sing with their Vacation Bible School group; even though I pretty well abhor praise music, I got all misty watching them, and especially so, watching their non-church going father present and beaming at his girls. When we went round the table and made birthday wishes for my sister, her youngest (age 3) said "I wish you my heart," which her mother later explained came directly from a sermonette about giving one's heart to Jesus; it was precious and suiting that this is the same child who not only has clarified that Jesus has a booty, but also announced some months ago that she was "strong like Jesus" as she hung from the monkey bars. (This she'd determined from "Jesus Loves Me:" 'We are weak, and he is strong....')

I attended a Filipino pig roast with my mother and daddy Sunday evening, at the home of a dear family who knows how to throw down! Eleanor prepared more dishes than mother and I could call forth on paper the next morning; standouts included her deservedly famous egg rolls and these gorgeous caramelized plantain and sweet potatoes, skewered and grilled. Mmm. Her husband's garden is a delight and there were kids all over the big back yard playing on an enormous inflatable water slide and a very upscale slip and slide. I sat with my folks and with three older ladies, two by the name of Jean, and one Charlcey. The round picnic table we occupied was a bit tipsy and required continual shifting of balance. Alas, when too many of us got up to refill our plates, the whole table, including the large umbrella, took a tump and Charlcey took a tumble to the ground, landing (thankfully) on her hind side on soft ground. She was lifted up unscathed, but wearing the margaritas and root beer which'd been momentarily abandoned on the table's other side.... It shames me slightly to say that Charlcey's tumble will live on as the moment most recalled -- and, well after the fact, laughed over-- of the weekend . My Beloved Mister is somewhat appalled by the La Grone sense of humor.


I stopped on the plateau on the way home to Nashville yesterday morning and bought a bushel of peaches from a one armed man. I plan to put up some preserves this week. The wild blackberries 'round here are getting closer to ready, too, which of course means they're very late. The drought here is killing us. Thank heavens for the good rain we got this morning early and it looks to be rain coming a goodly part of the day.

My Beloved & I had a quiet, relaxing fourth of July celebration at home -- I arrived back at our lovely nest to a hand-wrought Welcome Home sign on our front door, complete with my Beloved's renderings of fireworks and flags; most endearingly, he'd used my metalic and decorative markers and told me had he known where the sidewalk chalk was, he'd have made a more public greeting, even. We listened to lots of American composers, the Beloved Mister read Mark Twain short stories to me (and Ziggy), we visited a bit with our neighbors (we are blessed with good folks all around us), and he and I prepared a festive meal together. Grilled chicken, made some delicious deviled eggs, German potato salad, fruit tea, the inaugural batch of peach ice cream (the dasher didn't consistently turn as we had a tough time getting the ice balance just right; it was delicious and special nonetheless). We'll have holiday food to eat through the week. Mmm.

Our Bert didn't much care for the all the fireworks going on all through the evening and well into night; he spent much of the evening heavily snoozing and sighing on the sofa.... we opted to stay home cozied in rather than fight the crowds to see the city fireworks. Me and the Mister, we supped, delighted in our first batch of homemade ice cream and watched Mystic River at long last; I'm still thinking about it, though I didn't just love it. I was ultimately too sleepy for the planned game of Scrabble, despite having napped for a brief while yesterday afternoon after a delicious welcome home romp with my yummy Mister. No matter.


This afternoon I'll go see my midwife and have blood drawn for the glucose tolerance test. I'm feeling so good still, just a bit more challenged with regard to comfort and movement, and needing more downtime. I am grateful for the body's way of slowing me down when needed. I reckon after this monthly visit, I'll be upped to twice a month. Amazing I'm already this far along as it all feels whirlwindy fast, in some ways....


This day of days, I wish you each peace and the pursuit of happiness (follow your bliss!) in this time of freedom (relatively speaking). I wish you each health and home, hope, hello, for I have found it and it is Good.