November

Yesterday was one of those rainy days, and looking out the floor-to-ceiling window I sit next to at work I could see an enormous curtain of mist. It looked almost like snow, although I knew it was too warm for that. Low 40s, Fahrenheit. Not just yet, winter.

For as long as I can remember, there have two months in each year that I hate: February and November. February is gray and slushy, with no immediate hope for spring and no leftover Christmas glow. November is also gray, and leafless and sluggish and not quite cold enough for beautiful, cleansing snow. Blecch. It doesn't help that November comes right after October, my favorite month. The whole month of October seems to be this big, flaming red and orange reminder to enjoy each moment. And November? It always says to me "hope you enjoyed those moments. They're past now."

This year is different, though. This year I'm enjoying November. Pleasantly surprising. I think it's partly due to the fact that I'm STILL excited about not being hot anymore (stop complaining about summer, Allison!), and partly because my current situation has completely upended the way I look at the cycle of the seasons. The end of fall, far from representing endings and darkness, means anticipation now. When winter - the great void - officially starts, I'll be mere days away from new life! A new beginning! Who needs daffodils and sunlight? Give me a snowy day. Howling wind. Wrap me in a blanket and hole me up in my apartment - I don't plan on going outside for longer than 30 minutes at a time.

Honestly, I could probably be spending this month in the flames of Hell and still feel good about it. Just two more months to wait! I'm so excited to see what (and who) he looks like. I can't wait to hear the sounds he makes while he sleeps. I look forward to picking him up while he cries and putting an end to the tears because my presence comforts him.

Little things for the little one

My urge to create continues. With the busy book behind me, I've turned to other things. Little things. Things that I can finish relatively quickly and feel good about, which will hopefully inspire me to make more things. More little things. I've got a half dozen different projects in mind, and am looking forward to an upcoming trip to Amish Country, where I'll meet up with my parents and cruise the reasonably-priced fabric stores with my fabric mentor (Mom).

If I may share:

The first thing I ever made for the little one (resting atop a scarf I made two years ago. Hey-ooo!). A rattle courtesy of Lotta Jansdotter's Simple Sewing for Baby. Lotta is Finnish (Finn power!), and I love the Scandinavian aesthetic a lot of her stuff has to it. Modern, spare, not overly cutsey... but ridiculously cute at the same time. I look at this and I can see the fat little hand that will eventually grab it.

Project number two: simple baby hat. I'm not sure how well it's turning out, but I am insanely proud of myself for finally learning how to knit in the round. I can make more than just scarves now! Oh, the visions I'm having... hats for all of us, sweaters for the baby...

Project number three (in progress): get better lighting for this apartment! Such is the cross I bear.

Maine

I like my life. In the decade or so that I have been an adult, I've had a lot of fun. Going here and there, doing this and that... it's been really nice. I know that's about to change - in a good way of course; I welcome the change - and I've been trying to make the most of these last months as a carefree, possibly somewhat self-centered, childless person.

Last weekend, for example. My last "just for me" adventure for quite some time (I imagine). I drove up to Maine for a long weekend trip with a friend. We spent a rainy day in Portland. We went to Acadia National Park. We ate really good seafood. We had "drinks" in a church-turned-bar. We cracked jokes, discussed the finer points of the greatest juvenile literature series ever written, recalled songs from our elementary music classes, talked about our families, stayed in a motel room that looked like it had been sawed off from a corner of my grandma's house, bought fancy soaps... etc.

Did I mention how much I like my life? And the people in it? Did I also mention how totally cool I am with the fact that it will be very different in a few months? This trip, planned before I was pregnant, was perfect at the perfect time.

A few pictures. I forgot to bring my camera along for half of our excursions... these were all taken in Acadia. Gol, I do love the North Atlantic.

Magic!

        
My favorite from the most recent batch of ultrasound photos. Is he breathing out phosphorescent bees? I knew he was special!    

Full disclosure: those aren't bees. They're fingertips. A little less dramatic, but magic all the same. And I still think he's special.
      

All right, I give up.

I know that "every woman's pregnancy is unique," but there were certain things I assumed would happen to me. You know, because they happen to everyone. I thought I'd have weird cravings. Or cravings at all. I thought I'd suddenly have a more sensitive sense of smell. I imagined a beast-like hunger that could never be satisfied. I pictured morning sickness.

Never in all my idle imaginings did I think I would no longer be able to read.

I mean, I can still read. The letters still come together to form words. My eyes can still scan them and create meaning. It's just that I can't focus.

This is really killing me. It's just so strange. I can't tell you how many books I've started and tossed aside in recent months. Or how many I've sort of limped through, only half present but desperate to hold on. I've tried re-reading old favorites - I think "The Hero with a Thousand Faces" is currently gathering dust under my bed, where I finally chucked it one evening. I've tried reading new (to me) books by some of my favorite authors. Meh. I've tried reading more "candy"-like things - a mystery, a Bill Bryson book about traveling through Europe, "High Fidelity". Eh.

It's sad, because I can't imagine myself doing much reading after the baby gets here. These months, right now, were supposed to be something of a "last hurrah" for me. Who knew?

I'm just going to put it in writing then, and by doing so let it go: no more books for awhile. And that's totally okay.

Thankfully, I'm able to handle The New Yorker. I guess I'll just be reading magazine articles for the next three and a half months.

And maybe I'll get some of those food cravings, too. Anything can happen, right?

Bad pictures / good project

As a 30th birthday gift to myself, I put together a "life list" this past December. One of the items on it was "learn to sew."

My mother has been sewing since she was an adolescent, and she is amazing. She made clothes for me when I was a kid, she quilts, she has a little just-for-fun, very-low-key business of selling American Girl doll clothes, etc. I grew up with a basic knowledge of the craft, and even made a little piece here and there, but I never had the desire to buckle down and really learn it until quite recently.

While this desire to start sewing was building within, I got the news that a set of friends was expecting a baby. Lightbulb moment - I could make them a busy book!

Over the years I've watched my mom make a series of these books for friends, relatives and co-workers. So cute! Educational and fun! Making one would force me to go over the basics of sewing again and again (change the thread, change the stitching, etc.), but the whole thing wouldn't be too complicated for me to handle.

It was settled, then.

Below are some photos of the finished project. I had to use flash on my camera, so the colors look a little washed out... ah well. You get the idea, right?

 (baby ladybugs are inside... in case you were wondering)

 (Rabbit and crocodile finger puppets in the cars.)

As for vacation...

It was wonderful. I don't feel like using so many words to describe it just now - maybe a few photos and captions can fill you in.

Much of our time was spent with Oliver's family - who, because I respect them and any desire they have for privacy - are not pictured here. Oliver's mom's dog though- I can post a picture of him. You don't mind, do you Bodo?

We made our way one day to Bremen (of the Bremen Town Musicians fame). It had a beautiful "old town" section, complete with town hall and rickety cathedral (both pictured). A beautiful place - if you find yourself in northwest Germany at any point, it's worth dropping by.

Silhouetted in the tower of Bremen's cathedral.

Taking leave of Germany after a bit, we made a brief foray into Denmark. Our first stop was Aero Island, a little island in the East Sea. We stayed in a village called Aeroskoebing (pictured). It's a rarity - perfectly preserved 18th century buildings and very little of anything else. No condos, no fast food chains, no malls. The perfect place to go for an escape from the real world. 

Our biggest doing on Aero Island: an epic bike ride. The island itself isn't all that large but the bike route weaves back and forth a hundred times, sucking the strength out of your legs but giving you views like this one over and over again. I could barely pedal come evening, but I wanted to keep going. Every minute was beautiful, and every place I was that day was exactly where I wanted to be. The world needs more bike trails on tiny, quiet islands.

The little guy enjoyed the view - his first of the East Sea.

Oliver also enjoyed the view. 

Copenhagen was our other destination, and it was wonderful too. Canals, bikes, and all those beautiful buildings. We wandered around for a couple days, feeling guilty and nervous about two things we had never bothered to learn: a single word of the Danish language, and the dollar-kroner exchange rate.

My favorite part of Copenhagen - its outdoor cafes and the fleece blankets that hang casually off the backs of their chairs. A fleece blanket in August! Sorry to be the crazy old weather lady again, but I can't help it. This photo captures me at my happiest - wrapped in a blanket, sitting in a cute neighborhood, relaxing. Blankets in August! All right, I'm done now.

Our last stop was Frankfurt, where we spent a couple days with some friends. Frankfurt is mainly shiny tower-like buildings (background) and almost no quaint, old-style "German" buildings (foreground). The old-style buildings are fake-ish anyhow. The city was destroyed at the end of World War II, and all its historical buildings were reduced to rubble. The facades pictured are just replicas of the originals.

And thus it came to an end. We'll be back next year with the little guy in tow. I'm already plotting day trips and North Sea island excursions. Maybe I'll find some more fleece blanketed-sidewalk cafes. I still can't get over that. Fleece blankets! In August!

All right, I'm done now.