Being read currently: Rick Bragg – All Over But the Shoutin’
I will look up some of the books suggested in yesterday’s comments when I am done with this current one. The other 3 came from the campus library and I don’t think they’re due back until mid-September. I sucked it up and just bought Doctor No, because I know I won’t get my ass to the Leon County public Library anytime soon and I’d rather spend 5 dollars and wait a few days than make extra time. I know, well, you pick your battles, right?
Twenty-three weeks into pregnancy and I feel pretty good. I’m not as hungry as I was at 18 weeks or 20 weeks. I’m not craving cheeseburgers anymore. I’m walking more: 2 miles when we get out and do it, which has been 3 times in a week. Sleeping is becoming increasingly difficult. I wake up frequently, stumble into the bathroom, crawl back into my little cove of pillows, only to have to kick Todd a little because he scooted his big ass body into my space in my absence, then he sprawled out. My belly button has begun to stretch and seems slightly more shallow. It’s typically sort of deep and I wonder if it will ever “pop”, like a done turkey. I’m tired of my maternity clothes, all my clothes. I’m running out of gigantic t-shirts to wear to bed because anything remotely constricting makes me claw at my neck with the fierceness of a rabid… mongoose? Yeah. Mongoose are cool. Mongeese? Back pain is the norm and no amount of yoga or aches and pains bubble bath will alleviate it. I laugh and cry at the same time. But only sometimes. Baby kicks a lot, all over. I think he wants out. I miss margaritas. And dry red wine. Sometimes I miss hot dogs too. But that’s always a fleeting sentiment. Mostly I don’t miss anything as much as I say because it’s all worth it in the end.
It’s 9:30 and I have some counting to do. Yes, counting. Don’t you want my job?