Ow.

I would have thought my thick ankles would be good for something. I might even have bet that they grew to better carry this increasingly thick body of mine. Maybe I'm nuts. But I think ankles should be reliable things.

Apparently they are not.

Yesterday I was carrying Claire into Church. She rested on my hip. I was feeling slightly uneasy in my high heels, which I unwisely wore for vanity's sake since I had uncharacteristically been to the salon with my mother to have my toes painted. They had flowers on them. For the first time. It should have been a momentous occasion. It was not. My ankles did not approve.

The left one punished me. It buckled attempting to bolster the burden of two children and a fat lady, aided only by those stupid wedges.

I had just enough time to pull Claire closer to me (butting her head to mine, but saving her from the pavement), and shout, "Oh my gosh! Brad!"

Brad rushed over. Along with a friend I hadn't seen in a year whose reintroduction to me was an awkward mixture of me wincing and laughing. (I do that when I'm embarrassed.)

I had skinned my knee. I limped into the chapel. And now my rolled ankle is even more swollen. Which, I'm sure many of you doubted possible. Yes. Well. Doubt no more. I can always become more ridiculous, I assure you.

(P.S. Brad has just revealed to me that when he ran around the car to rescue me, he found me sprawled out on the pavement, spread eagle, my skirt flipped up. All the way up. Claire was laying on top of me, flailing and screaming. Always more ridiculous. Always.)

Super Old-School?

So, it's late. And I've been typing emails. And it occurs to me that I pretty much sign off "Love, Elise" on any email to a friend. And I've been doing this on email since 7th grade. It is how I was taught to sign off on a letter, after all.

Is that weird for email? Creepy?

Worth it.

The other night, I woke up at about 5:00--yelling. Poor Brad. I was less than six inches from his ear. If I were him I would have woken up in a panic--disoriented, confused. But he didn't. He saw me grab my right calf in agony and immediately pulled my foot back, helping me stretch out the worst. leg. cramp. ever. It's two days later and still sore.

I'm at that stage in pregnancy where everything is uncomfortable. Breathing, eating, sleeping. Sitting at a computer for half an hour on a day I have forgotten my vitamins is enough to make me woozy and short of breath. Heartburn prevents sleep for hours. I waddle when I walk, and all chairs seem unusually hard. My tummy is tight, unmovable, unstretchy.

I am told I have two more months of this.

I don't remember this pain from past pregnancies.

All I seem to remember is the birth. The experience of holding a new munchkin. It's breathtaking. And earth-shattering. Evidently, it's powerful enough to have allowed me to forget everything else.

Thank goodness.

You guys are geniuses.

Thanks for helping me out. I'll send pictures when I try the different living arrangements. Yipee!

I need help.

In less than a month, our little family will be moving back into our favorite DIY project in Carlsbad, NM. I am so excited. I will have a house again. And this time, it is [almost] done! I can decorate! As if I'm going to really live there for a long time! [Because, this time, that is the plan.]

There's just one problem.

And it's the living room.

It is impossible to place furniture in. At least, it is for me. [We are talking about the least creative woman in the world here.]

Here's the problem. This room has to double as a living room and dining room space. It is a job that would be made a lot easier if it weren't for the incredibly awkward placement of the fireplace which makes it seem odd to divide the room into two separate halves. See for yourself:

I need help. I am desperately asking for help.

Let's say that we have only two pieces of furniture that we intend on keeping: a pleather couch and armchair. Other than that, we're looking to acquire furniture. [Slowly, but we'll be acquiring nonetheless.] Let's also say that a TV in this room is not a necessity. A dining table, however, is.

With that information, do any of you have furniture placement suggestions? Ones that will make me feel like I'm living in a happy home and not a smooshed up apartment? I'm open to unconventional. I'm not really open to ripping out the fireplace. Yet.

Here's a refresher on what the rooms actually look like.

From the dining area looking into living room/entry:

From the hall looking onto fireplace:
From living area looking onto dining area/kitchen:
I know many of you are ingenious homeowners and decorators and DIYers. Please share!

Choo-Choo.

Yesterday Grace was working on a worksheet of blends. She wouldn't let me look. She has very specific rules about her work. Anytime she works on a project, she figures it out on her own and then surprises me. I guess she likes the reactions I give. I'm always very impressed.

Just as I was this time when I saw this:

Impressed and... surprised.


Apparently, during her five short years of life, she has believed this

to be a CHRain.

I never noticed. Since she learned to speak from me, perhaps I need to enunciate better.

T-T-TRain.

Must be summer in Texas.

Texas celebrates the beginning of June by welcoming these charming guests:

This fellow is aptly named the June Bug. You could almost draft a calendar based on its impeccable timing.

It's bizarre to hear them at night. They reach for light, and their heavy bodies hit the windows like hail.

The next morning you can fill several dustpans full of the causeless Kamikazes who have dropped to your porch, belly up, by the hundreds.