As I type this, Al's givin' Bean her first lesson in The Viewing of (Vintage) Looney Tunes on a Sunday Afternoon.
"And that's Pepe Le Pew." (Said this in his best French accent, too. Leaves nothin' out, this man.)
"Is he a cat?"
"A SKU-UNK? Eeeeeeeeew! P.U."
"What's the dog's name, Daddy?"
"That bad dog - he spins around."
"Oh! That's the Tasmanian Devil."
"Damamian Debil. Got it."
Lots of laughter.
And I should probably end this post there, because as you can see, I don't have much for you today. Oh, it isn't that my head's empty, or that we haven't had a fun, eventful weekend here at FriedOkra Manor. The weekend flew by like a shot as usual, packed full of neighborhood barbecues, diner breakfasts, and sunny afternoons outside. The summer fun quotient's been high, people -- we've been busier than ever, and if I put my mind to it, I'd know be able to conjure up plenty of anecdotes for y'all, but the truth is, I just don't feel anecdotal tonight.
For whatever reason, it's become increasingly difficult to bring this mind and body into a relaxed, reflective place - the very place from which I most frequently blog you. Instead, there's this pounding mental and physical urgency to get everything on my to-do list done, and get it done NOW. I'm simultaneously planning two upcoming vacations for the family, building the entire process and writing up the collateral for the writing coaching I mentioned Friday (for which y'all have completely blown me away with your enthusiasm, by the way! OHMYGRANNY!), reorganizing the baby's room, sorting, washing, drying and folding his entire newborn wardrobe, researching and trying to decide on and order a diaper changing table, finishing up an odd assortment of decorating details in the guest and master bedrooms and doing the family laundry while mapping out the events of the upcoming week and weekend and planning meals/writing a grocery list in my head.
I can't focus, people. On anything. As soon as I sink my mental teeth into one project or idea, another pops into my head and I'm off and running in a completely new direction. I'm like a slow, lumbering, outta breath pinball with ripe, swollen ankles and a mean case of heartburn.
I do believe, y'all, that we have entered The Nesting Phase.
Where we go from here is anybody's guess. Well, I mean. I guess we all KNOW where we go from here. We have us a baby. Soonish. Not too soonish, but soonish enough.
And you know what? I've wondered for the last 8 months if I'd ever be able to say this, but here goes:
I think I might be kinda -- ready.