A picture is worth a thousand words and perhaps, just perhaps, a thousand words could describe a picture. Today, for you, my dear readers, I have neither a photo nor the thousand words to describe one.  In fact, I’ve just about nothing which with to entertain, interest, or tug at your heartstrings. So why post at all? I MISS YOU!

This last week or so has been trying to say the least, as I have spent tons of time “nesting” and resting, swimming and sunning, trying to ward off all signs of the inevitable preeclamptic phase of my pregnancy. Unfortunately, while my bran-spanking-new blood pressure monitor keeps reading “all okay” (very fortunate indeed) I cannot claim to be missing the pressures of producing blog posts or help feeling, somewhere in the back of my mind, as though I’ve lost a piece of my creative self and the oh-so-comforting support and banter of my bloggy friends! If only my parents would invest in wireless internet connection and I could blog poolside!

I’d have to say that currently I am spending all of my time being well-schooled in the art of patience where both blogging and nesting are concerned.  I suppose it is simply the ebb and flow of life itself to which I am subject, rolling about, struggling with the baby bump and sitting in my favorite leather chair staring at the boxes of baby clothes and paraphernalia which have overrun the living room.  I had forgotten just how much “stuff” goes along with an infant. Now Baby’s things lay piled there taunting me as I pass them by, time and again, with a sigh and a sincere, yet never fulfilled, “maybe tomorrow”.

In medical news, I pushed my OB/GYN about his gut feeling on how far we will get. After twenty-five years, while he will not brag of this fact, the man can predict with pretty damn near uncanny accuracy when one of his patients will deliver, especially when he knows them as long as he has known me (twenty-one-years to be precise). Certainly, this is no exact science and nothing to set one’s clock by, and he usually won’t reveal his intuitions, because technically speaking, in the medically community, that just won’t do.  But I twisted his arm and he admitted, with a chuckle at my brazenness, that if we make it to thirty-six or thirty-seven weeks, that’ll be good. I intend this to be no self-fulfilling prophecy, as I am still planning on holding out for thirty-eight weeks, but then again, that is entirely my body’s decision.

I’ve got to sign off here now and try at least to get something done today. I’m thinking maybe I should set up some guest bloggers for the next few weeks. Anyone interested?