Strike a Pose. Marc and I have had a fun, artsy week. We had a photo shoot on Friday with a professional (and very fun) photographer. We were directed into a very "pregnant" pose or two - or fifty. We can't wait to see the proofs. Then, we spent some time on Sunday making a mess in our living room - I mean - making a plaster cast of the baby belly in our living room. Marc's going to paint it, once it's completely dry. Then we'll hang it up, at least for a little while. It was so much fun to make. We laughed the entire time and made a huge mess. I'm very thankful for that big plastic dropcloth. It doubled as a towel, once I headed into the shower to clean up. Probably would have been easier just to go in the yard and get hosed down. I had to throw away those underwear. And they were a good pair. Why the hell I thought wearing good, Victoria's Secret underwear while having plaster gobbed on my torso would be OK is beyond me.

We rearranged our porch a bit and now have a nice table and chairs out there for entertaining. Had some neighbors over for dinner on Sat night to try it out and I think it's my new favorite room. I ate breakfast out there on Sunday morning, before the temp cranked up to 80-something. It's going to be a hot summer. I've been swimming almost every day and am completely loving it. I'm so light in the water. Getting back on dry land after floating for an hour is a wee bit of a shock to the system. I've learned to get out gradually, to avoid having the full weight of the belly catapult me across the pool deck.

We're nearing the end of this pregnancy. Looking back, it's been an interesting experience. Some of it wonderful, some of it uncomfortable, all of it new and different. Whoever said they "loved every minute" of being pregnant surely has a bad memory, a propensity for discomfort, or is just plain full of shit. Some of it has been lovely, yes. But all of it? Pffftt. It *has* been nice to get a little spoiled here and there, I must admit. The physical limitations frustrate me. For example, we did some light yardwork this weekend - mowing, raking and such - and I wound up with ankles the size of extra large ball park franks. Our very compassionate neighbor pointed, laughed and said "lookit them cankles!" (a delightful situation in which your calves blithely merge into your ankles, in case you need a clarifier). Admittedly, they were pretty gross and I ended up spending part of the weekend with my feet elevated and having food and drinks brought to me. Come to think of it...maybe not so bad, after all.

One other good thing about pregnancy: I've been given access to the Private Stash of toilets in Denver, just based on my belly and probably the frantic look in my eye that says - "I'm going to pee right now. It can be in your toilet, or on your floor. You pick." Doubtful I'll still have access to that stash once the belly is gone, but it's nice to dream...