I'm a beach ball



So today was supposed to be my due date but a doctor disguised as a Dwalks clone decided, after running a couple of tests, that i'm a full week behind. Baby has no name and hardly a due date. Son of Ambivalence...

I look like i swallowed last summer's beach ball but i'm doing ok. Sometimes i wish i could feel more useful but i guess that's just the unemployment status building inside me. I work around the house and my cooking skills are improving (apple pie or vegetable and cheese quiche, anybody?), and that keeps me happy enough.

I can't remember the last time i wrote something over 100 words but at least i'm back at reading (Tom Wolfe's I Am Charlotte Simmons, loving it) and listening to music: mostly radio still but slowly getting back to the cds. I don't know where the anticultural momentum came from, it may have to do with the pregnancy hormones or something.

It's hard to believe i'm days away from seeing his face. In fact, i can't believe it. Though i can't wait...