Back to the here and now, and my job, and the whole world. This week has been the "slide gradually back into the big wide world" week for me, and as an extension, Bella. Lots of things have happened in our absence: Surveillance cameras have gone up over intersections in our town. New restaurants have opened. Bella's preschool has totally changed hands, and now she is one of only three children there! The new staff seems to be enjoying her, though. She's gone there for a little while each day this week, working toward her regular 4-hour day, which will pretty much be art/drama, lunch, story, and nap. I told them she was a natural for the drama, and she made me as good as my word today when they tried to get her to take a nap and in the course of her many arguments against this idea, she threw up her hands and said, "This cannot be happening." That's my girl.
My mom took me to lunch today, and I remarked that there was yet another restaurant behind the one we were at, that I had no idea had even been built, much less opened for business. She said, "Well, you've been holed up for about a year and a half." Ouch. That sounds crazy, no? I just said, "Yeah, well, so far I'm not that impressed by you Outside-Worlders." At the end of my time I'm dying to get home, but I haven't had any problems being "out," so to speak. So far, so good. Except that it's "that time" again, which means not only that I'm not pregnant AGAIN, but am in a tremendous amount of pain. Lovely husband is cooking and doing his best not to just royally aggravate me. I think he's just keeping his toes clear of the beartrap, which is highly advisable for the next couple of days.
He's been walking a thin line, though...earlier, when he was trying to compliment me as a "woman of beauty, quality, and substance," I asked, "Just how do you define 'substance'?" And he replied, as I just knew he would, "Baby, you're a substantial woman." Arrgh. This is the same man who is threatening me over and over with things he is going to say loudly and in his worst Southern/hillbilly accent when we are at BlogHer this summer, among people with whom I'd like to leave a good impression. One that he says he's going to raise his hand at a panel discussion and ask is, "Y'all got any a' them little weiners t'eat up in here?" Yeah. Like that. My favorite, though, so far, is his plan to draw a crowd in the hotel lobby and then to loudly declare, "Our room can't be up that high--the stairs bother my rheumatiz, and I'm a mite skeered 'a that there UPPITY-BOX." Thank you, Simpsons and Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel for adding a new term for "elevator" to my husband's vocabulary. I will be so proud.
As discussed a good two months ago--and you all know how great I am at doing things PROMPTLY--I will be packing up soap grab-boxes this weekend. Watch this space for details tomorrow, and help me get them outta here so I can make more! Fresh stuff! Caffeinated coffee-scented soap! Tons more castile soap! Ahhhhh...soaping.