What a weekend.
In just 48 hours we managed to pack in at least a week's worth of work and play. Between gardening -- the tomatoes, tomatillos, eggplant and summer squash are in! -- and picnics and family drives and the never-ending Rabbit Hutch Project the two days of together time flew by.
But what really sticks with me from this weekend are some (nearly) unmentionable items.
Look away now if you are not of the hardy female persuasion. (Or, you know, if underwear talk embarrasses you.)
I had to shop again ... it's like aversion therapy or something ... and it was worse than swimsuit shopping because it was undergarment shopping AND it involved measuring tape AND getting felt up by a 20-something know-it-all clerk in the maternity store. She declared my questions/requests/clearly and politely stated undergarment requirements to be mere superfluous babble getting in the way of her sales pitch. I was offended. She told me I'd have to special order what I wanted from the chi-chi-est lingerie store in our city. Or possibly online. Or possibly knit them myself. Her tone was (and I'm discounting for pregnancy-related sensitivity) "women who are as nit-picky as you do not belong in my maternity store, getting in the way of me telling you what you want and need."
I might have left there in tears.
And then to add insult to injury I found what I was looking for (100% cotton, no underwire; what's so very difficult to understand about THAT?) in a bargain store. But I couldn't even begin to feel superior for a minute because...
...then my feet became swollen beyond all recognition. Each individual toe is to this moment without visible knuckle creases. It's a Hobbit thing. Only without the hairy part. I guess. As best as I can see past my baby bump.
At least the tomatoes are in so I can put my feet up.