Exciting new things in this picture: Fence, grass seedlings, manicure.
I'm starting to wonder whether I might be a magnet for the supernatural. Boom, show me another blog with a post that starts with that sentence. All the people who've been snoozing their way through the last several months of pregnancy posts just suddenly woke up, like oh really? Is she finally going to write something that doesn't have to do with needing to pee all the time?
This is me standing in front of Hamish's closet, which I cleaned out and organized last weekend. It remains the only thing I have done towards preparing the nursery, unless you count buying a rug for 65% off during a Memorial Day sale. Yeah, you do.
This morning I went to see my doctor for a routine visit, and in the middle of chatting about something or other, she said "well, now that you're 32 weeks pregnant, we can--"
Hey, let's stop talking about babies for a second so I can invite you into my bedroom. You know, in the least creepy possible way. Actually, I don't think there's any way to say "so I can invite you into my bedroom" non-creepily, so maybe we should just back up so I can start over.
Ol' Pointy and I went on a date with Sean to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art last night, where I stood in front of this Damien Hirst piece and smiled awkwardly at passersby who may actually have thought I was part of the exhibit.
At 28 weeks pregnant, I flew eleven hours to London, took a three-hour train ride up to the north of England to attend my grandmother's funeral, then roadtripped another eight hours up to Scotland with my dad and sister to drop the latter back at university in time for her final exams. Somebody page Richard Curtis, because this sounds like a Britcom movie I'd pay to see.
A few weekends ago, I sat down to make a baby registry. Wait, let me just rephrase that sentence: a few weekends ago, I sat down to make a baby registry and did not get up. For the entire 48 hours. Call it anxious first-timer nerves, call it "generally unable to purchase anything, eat anywhere, or make any other kind of decision for myself without first reading seven hundred reviews from other people," but I found the idea of making a baby registry more than a little daunting.
At 27 weeks, my pointy belly and I went down to San Diego to see my parents. (Also, I dyed my hair, as you may have noticed by the faintly Elvira-ish shade it seems to have turned since the last weekly photo. Apparently, L'Oreal and I have very different definitions of "dark brown.")
First of all, thank you so much for your lovely, kind words on my last post. I hope it doesn't sound too cheesy to say this, but each one of your comments meant so much to me and really did go such a long way to helping me feel better. I'm trying to write back to everyone properly to say thank you for your thoughts and condolences, so if I haven't got to you yet, rest assured that I will.