A week that called for all my unionista powers of determination and tenacity was offset, on Twitter, by my continuous and cheerful babbling about puppies and babies.
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Despite being New Zealand-born and having lived in this house for nearly eight years, I have done little in the way of renovation and redecoration. There has been some moving of beds, some purchasing of couches, and some routine maintenance, but not a lot else. I tend to caution, renovations-wise, I think, since in the back of my mind there’s always a worry that I’ll run out of money, time or taste. I haven’t minded living in a house that’s in effect a period-piece, since most fixtures have stayed in reasonable order, save some harrying by the dogs.
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My friend Governor’s Bay Jay has made a short-term house swap and is currently ensconced in Yorkshire, where she is venturing satisfyingly far and wide and chronicling her adventures. I recommend her prose.
Her most recently-recorded visit was to Whitby, whose charms merited multiple posts. I delighted in the images accompanying the narrative, since they reminded me anew of my own journey to Whitby — like GB Jay, from York — in the northern summer of 2000. Since I was travelling in high sunshine rather than rain and snow, this made something of a difference to my experiences, but many things were the same. I too headed straight for the Abbey and marvelled both at the ruins and the view, the former set in motion during the dissolution of the monasteries, and, like other northern monuments, given a general gutting-for-resources (in this case, stone) by locals in subsequent years.
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The puppies were photogenic; the weather was hot; the Olympics were on TV.
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I am at present flooding Twitter, Facebook and Tumblr with — let us not put too fine a point on it — pictures of puppies. Fortunately, this move has generally been well received. Finnmar described the image supply, on behalf of her colleagues, as the “next ‘aw’ moment” and an anonymous well-wisher was kind enough to request its continuance on formspring.
Conversation with my own colleagues has revealed a small variety of questions and queries and “oh, I didn’t know that moments” about very young puppies, so in the spirit of self-indulgence and public information, I thought I would make a modest list of Facts! about this topic. It’s knowledge, bro.*
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Lots of puppy photos and news from the latest scan of Average Baby.
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Adventures with Average Baby
This spring-and-summer pregnancy is already twice the length of its winter predecessor, and as different, thereby, as two things of the same kind can be. Not least among these differences was the way in which we passed the first eleven weeks in a kind hopeful lockdown, wary to put too much pressure on the future to carry hope that might yet be redundant again.
The brain, the spine, the beating heart that was our gift before Christmas opened the door to a different kind of experience, territory as unknown as the very notion of being pregnant was the first time around. The tremendous good fortune whereby my morning sickness (a most inadequate moniker) receded by New Year has given me back my old ability to think about anything other than how terrible I feel (and the accompanying certainty that nobody understands or cares sufficiently) and something of a hopeful forward-gaze.
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I am not much enamoured of my lyrical gifts at the moment, but am writing my way through the funk in hope of producing something that’s less, to my reading, jejune. I can’t think of a better solution (ignoring the cheap seats’ solution which is always, stop for a while).
It is my hope that Giovanni’s readers’ results may vary.
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Since you asked
7 March, 2010
in commentatrix, in Aotearoa, we are family
At five months pregnant, I am somewhat in the thick of such experiences myself; hence using my own webpages rather than posting a comment on-site to consider the matter. My impression has been that conversations around fertility and natality fall into two broad general groups.
[click to continue…]
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