February 3, 2009

A delight to live inside

I’ve got a lot to say, but Monday evenings deliver only the briefest window between pre-natal yoga and Midsomer Murders, and so alas. Let it be known that I’m now reading Revolutionary Road, which was a Zmas gift from my friend Bronwyn, and that I spoiled the ending today through wikipedian ramblings, which I’m a bit annoyed about, but I’m still enjoying the read. And that because the last couple of weeks (and more?) have been wrought with anxiety, tension and stress, this weekend was such a delight to live inside. I’ve been volunteering at the Children’s Book Bank since New Year, and have found it’s more than a pleasure to read stories one after another to eager children who then just want one more. On Saturday night, we hosted a small birthday gathering for the one-of-a-kind e. smith, with a special appearance from our beloved Sk8 who’s been in South America for the past two years. And there were cupcakes, oh yes. Then Sunday morning in Kensington, where cheese curds were had and sunshine was soaked and we held hands without mittens, and ice was melting everywhere. A glimpse of spring, which was the best thing. I arrived home with thousands of things to do, but decided to spend the afternoon asleep in my slanket instead. We had dearest friends over for a roast chicken dinner, and it was delicious, company was lovely. And best of all, that our baby is a kickboxer (sport of the future). The flutters have turned to thumps, and I think they just might be the more amazing sensation I’ve ever experienced. I could get kicked and kicked all day.