The Simple Life.

I slept through last night after several nights in a row of rising for a chunk of hours during Ziggy's most active part of most any given day, unable to get comfortable in any position and not wanting to disturb the Beloved Mister. My rest may well have been affected for the good by my first visit in over a week to the pool at the Y yesterday. Wallowing and whirling in the water, getting a few good laps in as well as a spot of sun on days the ozone warnings aren't severe does me a world of wonder from the typical aches and pains of pregnancy to the mind balm the combination of sun and water offers.

Ah. I feel this morning like a new woman: well rested, balanced and serene.


We were horrified to learn of the London bombings yesterday morning, but most elated to know that our Ingrid and her Andrew (the Mister's Brit-dwelling Sister and her man, respectively) are safe from harm. My mother-in-law called with the message of a good report, just before the Mister rang me to see what news I could raise on his sis.

Bert's still a bit puny, though seems better after a couple days of no dog park, a bit of coddling and a bland diet of chicken broth with just a bit of fowl. Perhaps this evening we'll walk the half mile over to the park so he can run, wrestle and sniff asses with his pals. The effect of that activity is to Bert as the pool is to me. And I have to say, watching the dogs frolic is good human therapy, too. Fine entertainment!

When my in-laws were in weekend before last, they visited the dog park daily with Bert, even introducing him as their grand-dog on a day when they found me fast asleep with my tootsies elevated, and most generously took the initiative to slip out with the big dog for some canine exercise. They are, unlike my own nuclear family-- who've nonetheless embraced Bert-- dog people. The Beloved Mister grew up with a household which always included a dog, and they even provided a home for a succession of German Shepherds who were in training to become therapy dogs and were in need of acclimating to a family of people as part of said training.

In any case, we had a marvelous visit with the Mister's mother and father. A stand out moment would have to be standing on the walking bridge spanning the Cumberland River between East Nashville and downtown, sharing an appetizer from Eddie's (as in former Titan Hero Eddie George) Bar and Grill during the Taste of Music City: a crazy noodle-sun dried tomato-polenta concoction all layered up in a plastic champagne glass, me and my sweetly reserved and usually culinarily un-adventurous in-laws digging in with plastic forks! We had a ball. On another night we also shared a supper of our much adored hot chicken with them, and Sunday morning we took them for a belated combo Mother's / Father's Day breakfast at the wonderfully famous Loveless Cafe and then for an afternoon meandering down backroads including the Natchez Trace, one of our favorite places, and a scenic route that begins it's northern end a mere stone's throw from the Loveless.

George & Emmie excitedly anticipate the arrival of their second grandchild and to our delight brought with them lovingly hand knit things made by relatives for the Mister when he was a babe, several other clothing items, Grandpa George's baby blankets, and the beautifully hand carved cradle that'd first held baby Mabel, my Beloved's paternal grandmother, whose engagement ring I wear. These are precious gifts, and are dearly appreciated.

Ziggy is so fortunate already to be so loved. As are we.



Today, being Friday, is generally the Mister's day off, yet he's driving a truck today for Second Harvest instead.... Therefore, I've thrown my own self into a fit of productivity here and will shortly be putting up peach jam, then continuing with my ever evolving To-Do-I-Am-Nesting-List.

In the late afternoon, my Beloved Mister will arrive home. We'll go for a dip at the Y, water the neighbors' lawn and garden, visit the dog park with Bert and then have Hot Chicken Friday Supper.

It's a simple good life of a summer's day.