I've been having problems uploading pictures and getting internet access. With this new move we still haven't set up internet, so I can only get on when I'm at my parents' house taking a break from sewing projects. Eventually I will get more interesting.
Recently I count myself very blessed. I have good reason to feel that way. It's wonderful when the only things I have to complain about are being uncomfortably pregnant (which is still a blessing), my inability to own a yellow maternity shirt, and the distance from my house to the church. If that's all I have to whine about the life is more peachy than I can appropriately express. That being said, I'm getting really uncomfortable toward the end of this pregnancy, I can't seem to own a yellow maternity shirt, and I'm irritated that we go to the church four blocks away rather than the one two doors up from our house.
The uncomfortable pregnancy thing is pretty self-explanatory. I'm nine weeks from my due date and have to concentrate to keep from waddling. I have new stretch marks and they located themselves at the front of my belly rather than the sides, which is new. I have to grunt to shift position and Eric is constantly concerned with how I'm doing. I hope this little girl comes before the nine weeks are up.
Last week I ruined my most recently purchased yellow maternity shirt. I had one when I was pregnant the first time, but miscarried before I had time to ruin it. That happened when I was pregnant with Ellie and it was too late in the pregnancy to justify buying another one. I loved it. It was a wonderful sunshine yellow and super soft. Sigh. I miss that shirt. Shortly after getting a positive test this time around I bought another sunshine yellow maternity shirt. It was gauzy and needed another shirt underneath it. I found a perfect match at Shade and was pleased enough that I paid full price for it. The undershirt was ruined a few weeks later thanks to a dye transfer in the wash. I continued to wear it because it went under the other shirt and I was too cheap to buy another. The gauzy shirt was ruined a few days ago. I was working at the kitchen table (it came with the house; it is not our table) when I moved and heard a rip. I looked down to find useless staples sticking out from under the table's edge that had caught on my delicate shirt and put a rip in it. The rip is right on top of my belly, so even with expert seamstressing there is no way to cover it up. Pout. I would probably replace it, but I bought it on clearance and I only have two months (thanks, Danette) of pregnancy left. Dang it.
As for the church situation, we continue our tradition of living very close to one church building but attending another. Our last place was half a block away from the church we didn't go to. When we moved to this place and were told the building two doors down was where we would go we were so excited. Saturday evening Eric went up to find out what time church started and discovered that the close church is being redone (re-roofed at the very least, but probably more than that) and we wouldn't be there for the next eight months. What the? I guess walking to church with the girls when Eric has drill will be a bit more involved that I thought.
Now that I've complained about what's bugging me I'm off to tackle the problems of world hunger and the disintegration of the family.