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October 9, 2001

I've got nothing to tell you.

I'm pregnant, I'm hungry, and my office, which is the warmest room in the house, is about 5,000 degrees. I can't open my window because the gross ladybugs come in and flit around making nasty clicking noises and land on my fingers while I type.

But I have some pictures to show you! Oh yes I do! They have nothing to do with anything, but here they are--all yours!

Andy and I painted pumpkins! If you know us in person, or if you've read this journal long enough and carefully enough, you will have reached the proper level of alarm.

We are not a crafty people.

I am blaming this sudden outburst on the nesting phenomenon that attacks pregnant women who are almost due to give birth--the same phenomenon that also caused me to mysteriously have the ambition to make cookies for my cousin who is away at college. (Sorry if they're gross, Laura...just save them to eat when you get home from a frat party. They'll be tasty then.)

And yes, that first pumpkin says "Welcome Quinn!"--I already know I am a dork, so just can it. Andy made the patriotic flag. I made the scary ghost. Who made the ugly wallpaper that's hanging in our kitchen, which you can see if you peep behind the pumpkins? Someone fond of country ducks, that's for sure.

Moving on...

This afternoon, I was busy working at my desk when I heard a loud noise coming from our back yard. I turned a little fretfully to see what was lurking outside, and saw a big farm implement cleaning up the cornfield behind us.

Does anyone believe that I live anywhere near Chicago? I do. I really do.

Here are some more pictures that are random and gratuitous. They were taken at Sidewalk Sales (which my mom said I have to stop writing about, because "it's gross") a few years ago. Aimee, my friend from Florida, was visiting and we ran into one of my former chickens, who was only too happy (so I thought, until I saw this picture and the kind of scared look on her face) to pose for a picture with good ole Miss Coughlin.

Please note that I am holding, in my left hand, three empty beer cups as well as one and a half beers. That's a good role model. Yes it is.

Here's Aimee and I after a few hours in the sun, looking dapper and pleasant.

Aaaah, what have we here? Our hairy dog, Baxter, disgruntled that we kicked him off the bed. He is soothing himself with his purple bunny.

Now here's Baxter in July, when we had him shorn for the summer. Oh, was he displeased with this look. And really...who can blame him?

In other news, I had my 38-week appointment tonight. (Pregnancies are typically 40 weeks, for those who don't know.) I had an ultrasound because my doctor is concerned about how big Quinn is getting to be. It turns out that yep, she's big--9 pounds so far. But I'm showing no signs of going into labor or anything, so we just have to wait until she decides it's time to deplane.

Again, for those perhaps not paying attention, I'd like to repeat: 9 pounds so far.

Mmmm hmmm.