Observations, Curiosities, and a Question

1. In order to remain comfortable in my own skin, I typically have to exercise a degree of self-control about what goes into my mouth.  (We're not talking celery-for-lunch deprivation, more like picking the small doughnut over the gigantic one.)  It appears, however, that one of my magical pregnant super powers is the ability to gorge at will with no consequences.  

I'm under instructions (both from our midwife and my mother) to eat healthily--not really a chore at this time of year when produce is ample and delicious--and our midwife even told me I can pretty much eat all the cheese as I can stand.  (I've been waiting my whole life to hear those words!)  Within those guidelines, I've been eating as much as I want, whenever I want, yet the scale stays the same.

While it's a little disconcerting (pregnant people are eventually supposed to get fat, after all), it's also amusing in an Alanis Morisette, "Isn't It Ironic?" way.

2. I cannot stop accumulating yarn, even when I'm being good--my reputation as an adopter of abandoned fiber has grown too large.  Last weekend?  A skien of chocolaty-brown Lamb's Pride pressed into my hands by a weaver who was tired of it.  Wednesday?  Six-hundred-and-some yards of creamy, chunky wool left on my desk by a co-worker.  

While it's such a strain to adopt so much new yarn (*cough, cough--sarcasm*), I'll just have to deal with it all somehow....

3. Macy the Duck cracks me up.  Of all my ducks, she's the one that most still seems to think of me as "mama".  Whenever I come into the yard she quacks loudly in greeting and trails along behind me like she did when she was small.  But she won't come close enough to let me pet or touch her.  She'll come just outside of arms reach and look up at me expectantly, but if I reach out she runs away.  She obviously thinks I'm somebody she likes, but even the best bits of kitchen scraps won't entice her to come nearer to me. 

I'm starting to feel like I need a duck-y psychologist to explain what this behavior means.

4. The pregnancy superstitions people are sharing with me are also cracking me up.  I feel like I can't share most of them here (because, although they're, um...interesting, many are sincere and well-intentioned), but when laughing about it all with Nice Mom the other day she passed on another one that I can talk about.  

Apparently, when she was pregnant with me, her grandmother very seriously impressed on her that she had to be careful not to be scared by anything or I would be born with an ugly birthmark in the shape of the thing that scared her.  As it was storming when we were having the conversation, Nice Mom joked that I should run outside so that the Peapod could be born with Harry-Potter-esque lightening bolt.

5.  It's getting to be about the time of year when I consider booking a little Fall getaway to our favorite little cabin in the woods.  I love going, but I wish it was just a little closer.  Does anyone happen to know of a nice, secluded little cabin that's within a few hours of Kansas City?  One with pretty old quilts and views like this?  Anyone?

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