12 09 2010

It’s simply too soon to know if this pregnancy is going to work out or not. It’s too soon to celebrate and get excited. But going through a miscarriage – or even the threat of one – is a lonely and terrifying experience, in part because nobody talks about it. We are all encouraged and expected to wait until the first 10-13 weeks are over and it’s a “sure” thing before we announce our pregnancies. And then we are expected to endure the emotions of a miscarriage quietly and privately.

And since when do I do anything that is expected of me?

So consider yourself warned. This may not have a happy ending, but it is going to be one hell of an adventure, and you’re welcome to share with us.


Not A Dog Fight

31 05 2010

I have been spending weekends here at the new house for over a month now, and have developed a morning routine.  I make my coffee (on the camp stove, on the grill, on the temporary stove in the deconstructed kitchen), bundle up, and take a walk around the property.

The dogs, of course, love to follow.  Inevitably, the two dogs, who mostly ignore each other, commence our stroll with thirty seconds of exuberant playfulness.  During the half-minute revelry, they pounce on each other, chase each other, and crash into my knees at bone-cracking velocities.

As inevitable as this brief interaction is, just as inevitable is it’s abrupt end.  The two dogs each find something more interesting than the other dog, and off they go in different directions.

But here is a piece of the action:

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Gate to Nowhere

14 05 2010

While expecting guests to arrive imminently, Jason took the time to build a gate to nowhere.  It’s not actually a gate to nowhere, I guess, it’s a gate to the public land beyond our property.  It just seemed odd to build a gate when he could be, say, putting in a kitchen or a floor or something.  I probably didn’t sound as excited as he expected when he told me he put the gate in.

“Why’d you put in a gate?”

“So there wasn’t just a hole in the fence.”

“But there wasn’t a hole in the fence until you cut one to put in a gate!”

“And now there’s a gate.”

This circular conversation wasn’t going to get me anywhere, so I decided to see where the gate would take me.

the meadow beyond The Gate

the meadow in the evening sun

the hermit's hut; he was out

a warning for trespassers? perhaps. these bones were covered in ants that stung the shit out of poor charlie's face when he tried to grab one.

So the gate is nice.  Is it functional-kitchen-nice?  Is it somewhere-for-our-guests-to-shower-nice?  Is it ready-to-move-in-nice?  Well, those are stretching it.  But it is awfully nice.

What We Were Doing

14 05 2010

While I was doing these:

Jason and his brother were doing this:

And Charlie was doing this:

Some kind of weird, 1950s-era domestic bliss.


10 05 2010

My mom knit me these socks. They make me smile.

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