I’m heading off to Tampa to find a house.  Say a prayer that all goes well!

My husband and I have been discussing where to live when we move to Tampa.  I want a short commute, so he could be home for dinner.  He wants us tucked safely in suburbia, at least 40 minutes away.

So, I sit down to my computer just now to find this article open and waiting for me to read:

For the third summer in a row, the Blue Star Museum initiative is offering free admission for military families at participating museums:

Blue Star Museums

The hostess at the restaurant asked me when I was due.  “End of June,” I told her.  “And you?”

She looked at me blankly, and for a split second I thought: oh, no, I swore I would never ask that question again, and I just did, and she’s not, and I really put my foot in it.  But it must have been the noise of the place that caused a time-delay, for then she smiled brightly and confirmed “In July!”  It’s her first, and she’s very excited.  I can understand.  It’s not my first, and I’m still excited.

*******

At the fabric store on Saturday, standing in the cutting line, I used my belly as a table to hold my bolts – backing for two quilts.  The young woman behind me said, “Oh, you’re having a baby!”

Why, yes, I am.

She then showed me all the cute fabric she was buying for her mother to make something for her sister’s new baby.  I do not want to see this cute fabric.  I am trying very hard to get my own projects finished, and I keep finding new ones.  A few weeks ago, I made a sling.  The last few days, I’ve been helping Katie with her quilt and making water bottle carriers for my kids using scrap fabric.  They don’t cost a dime – and they only take about 30-45 minutes to do.  Each.  Times 6 kids.  Plus others that I make for friends.

Cute baby fabric?  No, I’m not looking.

*******

I went to the post office three times last week.  The last time was Friday, late.  There was a line like it was Christmas time.  I have no idea why.

A woman ahead of me asked me when I was due.  “End of June,” I said.  “I have quite a way to go.”  I just look huge, I thought to myself.

“You seem to have dropped a bit,” she said.  Compared to?  I wondered if my small town is even smaller than I thought…or maybe I’m being stalked.  But I guess this is just pregnant-stranger small talk.  I don’t drop until delivery day/hour/minute.  My babies like to squish my lungs as long as possible.

“I’ll bet you can’t wait,” said another woman.

“Actually, I have a lot to do in the next month,” I said.  “I hope the baby stays put for now.”

“Are you nesting?” asked the first woman.

“No, just getting ready to move.”  I really had not intended to discuss my life at the post office.  Oh, well, pregnant bellies attract much attention and discussion.  At least they didn’t try to rub it.

Saved by the packages.

For the last month, my kids (mostly the fashion-conscious daughters) have been asking, daily, “Mom, what’s the temperature going to be today?”  For the last month, the temperature has been HOT…not horrible, mid-July in Savannah hot, but above 80.  Shorts and t-shirt weather.  The other day, I finally said, “It’s summer.  It will be summer until October.  Dress for summer.”  Except for that first winter we were here, seasons seem to be Summer, Not Quite Summer, and Not Quite Winter.  Summer dominates.

*******

All that remains of the school year: editing final papers with my two oldest, a few tests that need grading and reviewing with students, two sections of a standardized tests for 3 students, and filling in bubbles for the other 8 sections of those tests that were done but the forms got ruined by water (a very sore topic here).

Then I have to do grades.  I hate that part. 

*******

My kids are very unhappy that I’ve decided they will not spend the entire summer watching TV or playing Sid Meyer’s Civilization on the computer.  I know, I know: Mean Mommy.  I have some specific educational assignments (math fact drills at xtramath.org: a free website, typing lessons using Keyboard Classroom, a few minutes of piano, spelling for my bad spellers, reading for my slow readers, leisure reading for all).  All told, I’ll give them an hour of electronic usage for an hour of educational activity.  They complained and said that it was tyranny, unfair, that they had never heard of such abusive practices in the modern Western world.  I suggested that if I could find other parents who made their children do work over the summer they would agree I was right and just.  They thought for a minute and then decided no, regardless of other parents’ choices for their children, they would still find school in summer terrible for them.

My sister tells me that her children need to do 2 hours of reading for 1 hour of TV/computer.  I can’t wait to tell my kids how lucky they are.

*******

Yesterday, instead of finishing up school, I drove westerly for a few hours to have lunch with friend and blog-reader Kris.  She gifted me with some tiny little pajamas for the new baby.  My kids all exclaimed, “Oh!  How cute!” in that special high-pitched tone reserved for babies, puppies and kittens.  We’re all getting pretty excited here.  Last night, I had everybody push on my abdomen where they could feel quite distinctly a hard lump that was either the head or the bottom of the baby.  Poor little thing, getting beaten up before birth.  I think it was the bottom end, because I felt such intense pressure on my bottom of my diaphragm…like somebody was standing on it.

*******

I have somebody coming on Thursday to look at our stuff and decide how long it will take to pack up and what supplies they will need.  The plan is to have the movers come about a month from now to take most of our stuff and store it for a month.  We’ll live in a mostly empty house for a month until the baby is born.  Doesn’t that sound great?

Now I just need to find a house in Tampa that cooperates with the timeline.  Oh, and the baby needs to be born no earlier than June 23rd and hopefully no later than July 4th.  Outside that window, things get even more complicated than they already are.

Peter stood before his father and brother with his blanket wrapped toga-style around his body.

“I am Caeser!” he declared.

After a second’s pause, Billy and then his father, proceeded to stab him with imaginary daggers.

“You should have said you were Augustus,” said Bill.

The Baylor study found that Eagle Scouts – compared to Scouts who never attained the rank of Eagle Scout and men who were never Scouts – were significantly more likely to: 

• Exhibit higher levels of participation in a variety of health and recreational activities,
• Show a greater connection to siblings, neighbors, religious community, friends, coworkers, formal and informal groups and a spiritual presence in nature,
• Share a greater belief in duty to God, service to others, service to the community and leadership,
• Engage in behaviors that are designed to enhance and protect the environment,
• Be committed to setting and achieving personal, professional, spiritual and financial goals,
• Show higher levels of planning and preparedness, and
• Indicate that they have built character traits related to work ethics, morality, tolerance and respect for diversity.

As I expected, my giveaway drawing did not happen promptly at noon, despite having it on my calendar.  I had a followup ultrasound late this morning (all is fine!), and then I went to the grocery store afterward, so I’m late by an hour.  That’s not too bad, I suppose.

The random number generator gave me numbers 13 and 3 which correspond to Christine who is from Minnesota and Karen from Karen’s Adventure’s in Mommyland.  Ladies, email me your addresses and I’ll get your copies out soon!

Back when I had to work for a living, one of the things I endured was going out to lunch with salesmen from my company and from other companies.  One day a man I knew dropped in to see if I was available for a noontime meal.  He also wanted to show off his new convertible. 

This car was not an especially fancy car, and having been driven around before in Lincoln Continentals and Jaguars, I was not overly impressed.  He asked if I wanted to put the top down, and I said no.  While he complied on the ride to the restaurant, on the way back, he insisted on putting it down.  When we got to my office 10 minutes later, he looked at me and said, “Wow!  Your hair is a mess!”  Right. 

I figured that had I had a hair elastic or a hat, I might have fared better.  I also envisioned the glam movie star look with a lovely scarf wrapped neatly around my head, softly framing my face.  That was more than 12 years ago, and I had not had the opportunity to go topless in that time.  Not until earlier this week.

My sister doesn’t happen to own a 12 or 15 passenger van, so when we gave her our children for a few days so we could run away to St. Augustine, she got our van, too.  Since we met halfway between our two homes, we took possession of my BIL’s Jeep.  Last Sunday was cool and rainy, so we kept the top up, and the few days we were in St. Augustine, we mostly walked around the historic district.  But for the ride home on Tuesday and the ride to get the kids on Wednesday, we had gorgeous weather: 70-something temps and sunny skies.

I put my hair back in a ponytail/bun and attempted a stylish wrapping of my head with a pretty blue-patterned silk scarf.  Shockingly (!), real life isn’t like the movies.  I am sure that movie stars never rode in vehicles traveling at highways speeds.  A loose wrap did nothing to prevent flying hair, and a tighter attempt made me feel like I was strangling myself.  I also had a heavier scarf to keep the chill off my shoulders, and I did try using that as well.  However, that scarf, lovely though it is, is from the Middle East, and instead of looking like a movie star, I looked like a Muslim.

For a bit, I just let the wind pull the tendrils from my ponytail, thinking it would be good enough.  But the force generated by a car going 70 mph turns even little sections of hair into vicious whips, mercilessly lashing at my sensitive ears and face.  And when we stopped for gas, I realized that somehow even the the hair on the top of my head secured by the ponytail had managed to get tangled.  After I smoothed all that out and re-secured the ponytail, I tried the silk scarf once again.  This time, I put the middle of the scarf under my ponytail, pulled the ends up to the top of my head, tightly crossed them and brought them back under my ponytail where I tied them off.

My ears were protected; my hair was covered.  The scarf stayed in place.  I didn’t look like a movie star, but I didn’t look like a Muslim.

I looked like a chemo patient.

Oh well.

When we returned the Jeep, my sister asked what I thought, and I really didn’t have a chance to give a full assessment.  I did enjoy having the wind all around, and was happy to note that I could hear my husband when we talked.  But we didn’t talk all that much, which is not normal for us.  Talking on a cell phone, even with the top up, was extremely difficult.  This is fine if you are avoiding people, but if you are trying to arrange dinner plans or find a hotel, it’s not so good.  And if the President is going to visit your husband’s place of work in a few days, it might mean pulling over to the side of the road for 10 or 15 minutes once or twice for him to take a call.

I’m not bitter.

Too much.

Well, at least it’s not directed at my husband.

The tangled hair issue is something I would have to deal with before ever buying a Jeep or other convertible.  A quick look online revealed lots of people who think (wrongly) that a ponytail or a pretty scarf will be enough.  Again, if you don’t go above 30 mph, they might be right.

There are two other issues with a convertible.  One is sunburn.  Bill was wearing short sleeves the first day we drove with the top down, and his right arm got nice and red.  Perhaps there was sunscreen in the glove box, but I’m not the sort to go rummaging through another person’s car.

The other is the possibility of theft.  Normally I don’t carry around expensive things, but since we were traveling we had an overnight bag, a backpack with a really super nice Nikon camera, and a leather briefcase with a crappy netbook computer we wish someone would steal – but not if it also meant the loss of the briefcase.  We own very few truly nice things, but those few things all happened to be in the Jeep with us.  While the top was down, one of us stayed with the vehicle at all times.  When we went to get the kids on Wednesday, we had none of that, and I was much less concerned about having an unattended car.

But, I do think the Jeep was fun.  I don’t think I feel I “have” to have one, but I wouldn’t be upset if that was the car my husband decided to buy.