Conor is 29!

Which is to say, almost 30. Amazing, eh? Anyway, today is his birthday so you should all send him e-mails with funny jokes or something. Except Maggie and Jim, who already sent a super-sweet birthday package (which we have done NOTHING to deserve, as their birthday and Christmas presents are all still at my house), and my parents and grandparents, who have already sent nice cards/presents, and Grandma, who outdid herself in the present department by providing, among other things, a backscratcher (which makes Conor officially a Dad). Oh, and Conor’s dad and brother, who collaborated somehow to bring Conor into the 21st century by giving him an iPod and earphones.

So basically everyone who reads my blog. Oh, well. The rest of you, send jokes!

Today we went to Waldorf to a Thai restaurant with Grandma. I was hoping that spicy food would make me go into labor, but no dice on that one so far (although I am not likely to turn down delicious curry or string beans with chili paste anyway). I am a) enormous, b) hot, and c) really ready not to be pregnant anymore. Wesley can arrive ANY time, in my opinion. (I know I’m not even due until July 4, but anywhere between last Friday and four weeks from now is fair game, so I’m hoping for closer to last Friday.)

Possibly I am displaying nesting behavior–the other day I made 4 loaves of rhubarb bread and 4 loaves of lemon-cranberry bread. Of course that’s supposed to indicate impending labor but I’m not sure it means “impending” in a way that is useful to me.


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