Welcome Little One....

Philip III joined us on saturday (his parents' 6th wedding anniversary) at about 5:38 PM. Ten fingers, ten toes, one adorable button nose, blue eyes, and a head perfectly shaped and covered with downy-soft blonde hair.

So now we're all at home resting (mostly) and spending long hours gazing at this beautiful little miracle. He's healthy, active, and always hungry.

And of course, there is much knitting...

The Protector: A Touching Tale of a Boy and His Elephants


The formula for a good martial arts flic:

Young boy from distant village in China/Thailand/Japan journeys to big city to take on bad mob boss and his/her 300 henchmen to recover stolen Buddha/artifact/medallion/chalice/elephant.

Yup, in this heart-rendering story, Tony Jaa goes to Sydney, Australia to recover his dear elephant pals from a nasty dragon lady, in the process slaying her worthless hot nephew, rescuing the fair maiden, redeeming a cop who has been framed for numerous murders, and gallantly beating the piss out of a gigantic aussie dude in the midst of a temple that has been set aflame. All the while, our hero repeats the same line, "YOU TOOK MY ELEPHANTS!" Whowie.

This movie got me thinking-How cool would it be to have henchmen? Nameless and faceless men by the dozens, who suddenly surge into the room at the first opportunity in order to take an inevitable ass-whipping on my behalf?

I can see it now. Paul, the pissy attorney with a severe case of what I call 'newattorneyitis' rushes into my office, frantic because his hearing is five business days away and he MUST have some neurologist write a narrative report because he feels the judge won't understand the handwriting in his treatment notes. Of course, this is somehow my problem, and I am supposed to pull some magic out of my ass and sweet talk Dr. So-and-so of Mayo Clinic to drop everything THIS morning to write a summary. (What the hell, that 8 AM spinal fusion can wait, can't it?)

I glare at Paul and, without breaking eye contact, pull a dagger from my pencil cup and fling it at him with a mighty scream. It bounces off the wall harmlessly of course. I really did it just for emphasis. After all, four dozen henchmen in black suits are about to rush into the hallway from every door, window and orifice, circle the bratty lawyer, and proceed to attack. That's what I pay them to do, after all. And who knows, perhaps Mr. My-Hearings-Are-Priority really isn't a mild-mannered civil libertarian after all, but a deadly force to be reckoned with. And trained in the deadly art of Muay Thai...

T-Minus 6 Days......

Place your bets! When will she blow?!

Less than a week to the due date-do you think its time yet? Absolutely not-I'm still working, even! The midwife asked me if I had any contractions....nope...and feeling of 'lightening' from the baby dropping into position....uh, nope. Let's be frank, I won't feel anything of the sort because there is no lower a position he could possibly go! I'm barely over five feet, so unless he can visit my knees, there's no 'lightening' going on here. In fact, he feels like a real fatty boobalatti.

Then I was asked if he had quieted down at all, supposedly a clear sign that delivery is imminent. On the contrary, he has kicked up a storm, and has been able to twist my poor little belly into crazy shapes, practically driving me to tears.

So what does this all mean, you might ask. I don't have a clue, since this is my first go 'round, but I'm taking bets on what will be the actual day. Maria, my father's PA (but better described as wonderful unofficial adopted family member) has passed on her "one week late" curse to me. My supervisor believes my delivery date will depend on the next full moon. And Mr. has discussed at length with our midwives how we may ensure his arrival doesn't fall on or near superbowl sunday. Heaven forbid.

I feel this last (?) week like a vessel-a baby UHaul or something of that sort. None of what happens next is up to me. It's all up to the little guy. And so it will be from now on.

Truth In Advertising

If I were not married and almost nine months pregnant, I would ask the folks at Boston Bedding of they could prove this:

Since I am too lazy to zoom in let me share with you that Boston Bed Company is boasting that with them you will "Sleep with the Best!"
I thought that claim to fame was mine...

Read the Directions!!!!!

So where was I?

Getting ahead of myself again, that's right.

Everything But the Kitchen Sink has been a fun sweater-in just a few days I whipped through the body and separated for the sleeves. Last night, feeling energetic, I began decreasing up to the neckline.


So maybe we forgot to read a teensy little part of the directions about decreasing on the purl rows...

I'm not ashamed. Its happened to knitters far more skilled than myself. But what a mess this will be, since I have to backtrack through about six changes in yarn.


And my husband says to me, "that's going to be one crazy HAT."

A Break Away From Myself

I am beside myself.
Perhaps even behind, or better yet, ahead of myself.
Either way, there is definitely no room left inside myself.

There is a 6-ish pound critter taking up most of the space, and whatever is left has been used for food storage. So I am thinking of taking a break away from myself. If I could do this, I would most definitely take a nice long stroll; do some skipping and hopping, maybe even some running and leaping.
Prancing is not out of the question.
I would consider taking a polar plunge in the Manomet waters, and then defer to splashing just my fingertips in it before spending an hour or so half-bent staring at the sand in search of sea glass. I would throw some 80’s music on in the kitchen, drink a few glasses of Riesling, and dance with abandon in my fluffy red bathrobe. I would try on a little black dress and blow kisses at an imaginary audience. Then I would take five minutes to face myself and do some little physical touchups, since I can’t really reach my toes when I am in myself.


Behold, one completely un-blocked, unbuttoned baby cardigan. Blah-needs some decorative stitching, bright buttons, or some kind of accent. However, with the new knitting book "YarnPlay" staring me right in the face, I made a mad rush to whip up this project and move on to the next: Everything but the Kitchen Sink. It is the craziest sweater, but I had to. Just had to do it.
Eight various skeins of yarn later, plus whatever leftovers are in my stash I am back in the groove. Most interesting is the pure wool I picked out from Harrisville Designs, a spinning mill in New Hampshire. In lovely "Highland Iris" Yummy yummy.

Just a brief update on the baby situation: 2 1/2 weeks to go, and we are all doing very well! I'm measuring up to normal size and the little guy is in the right position. I do have to say, my mother has filled my head with hopes of a quick 6-hour labor (lucky woman!). However, when I brought this up to the midwife yesterday, she chuckled immediately.

So maybe the average woman suffers around sixTEEN hours-I'm definitely not average! Heather STRONG LIKE BULL! I also have news for them-not eating for over a few hours will either put me in a really nasty mood or a coma. So it is not even a remote possibility that this could take that long! Just wave a cheeseburger in front of me, and that should take care of things quickly. If that doesn't work, wave a bottle of Pinot Noir...