Is it so wrong...

to base the design concept of a baby's room on this?

View from baby's crib.

Too scary? Or just whimsical? 'Cause I was aiming for whimsical.

Signs that you have spoiled the dog...

The day my tastebuds died and went to Greek Yogurt heaven.

Yes, there is such a thing...

Doubters. Sheesh.

As we will at some point find ourselves back in the U.S. of America, I thought I should do a little research on something I just can't do without...

Greek Yogurt.

Yes. And yum.

This is widely available in the UK, and I have fallen in love with its rich texture. The way it calls out for a splodge of honey, a handful of crushed walnuts, and sliced bananas. It's truly a thing of beauty.

But. Is it available in the U.S., I wondered?

I became absolutely dependent on the various drinkable yogurts available in Bosnia and found my heart broke, just a little, when I could no longer get it. (Can this be found in the UK? Can it? If you can lead me to this drinkable yogurt-y nirvana, I might just name my baby after you.)

DUKAT-Tekući jogurt. Sublime.
Anyway.

Yes, in fact, you can get Greek Yogurt in the U.S., and this little company does one hell of a job.



Fage! Thanks in large part to this little blog entry, I breathed a sigh of relief, betook myself to our local Waitrose, bought a container, ate it, and danced my happy-food dance.

Now, if I could just find Cream Top Brown Cow yogurt.



I want it all, baby.

Where's mah belly? Mah baby belly?

As I look down the barrel of my sixth month (in two weeks, two weeks!), I wonder whatever happened to a sizeable, noticeable baby-bump?

I'm tired of looking like I waddle down the pub for a few pints. I still fit into my non-preggo pants...with the zipper down and a shirt pulled discreetly around my exposed bits. I think my neighbor might be hinting, if ever so subtly, that I'm looking a little portly 'round the middle. "It's a beautiful day! Out walking the dog, huh? Did she go for a nice long walk?"

Don't play with me, mister. I see you looking down at my jacket that doesn't quite fit over my stomach but that doesn't quite not fit either so what's the point of getting rid of it for maternity wear that I won't need in a year?

Methinks a purchase of one of these bad girls is in order:

It's called a belly band. Does anyone own one of these? Does it work? Mah belly needs stylish emphasis, "Look at me! I'm a baby, not fish n' chips pudge. Really!"

Really.

Red leicester is good and all but gouda is better.

I love sandwiches. And, now that I'm in my second trimester, I'm back to eating my sandwiches as I like them, with mayo and mustard and tomato and spinach and relish and onion and ham and...gouda.

But, martyr and non-food waster that I am, I decided to forgo the delightful slices of gouda in favor of the leicester that's been living in the fridge since last week.

I feel a finer person, really. And I'm glad that my baby, when he or she is born and able to read this blog/baby journal, will know that his (or her) mother values all food and will even forsake her precious gouda for leicester leftovers.

I'm sure there's a lesson to be learned in all this, and, I'm sure if we all think hard enough, long enough enough, and creatively enough, we will find it, by gum.

Wales is awful purty. Take that, Cambridgeshire!

Shucks. That's not nice. Cambridgeshire can't help being flat or windy or flat, windy and rainy. And we do loves its flat hilly charms. Mostly.

But what we really loves is North Wales with its purty, purty mountains and it purty, purty coast.

This is Criccieth. I do believe we were at the castle, looking down at the town. Really should have taken more castle pictures, but, you know, one castle is so much like the next...

I was totally charmed by the scenery and the people. We had a fantastic breakfast at our little B&B which included blood pudding, something I really enjoyed. Then again, I really love (and miss) scrapple, so you can see where blood pudding and I would really get along. (Stu pretended to try it, lied to me about liking it, and then lied about both trying and liking it. Men. Honestly.)

So, here we are, in the middle of nowhere, already charmed, and we come across this church with the most intriguing tile work. And we're charmed some more.

I hated leaving Criccieth. If we had more time, I think I would have happily stayed and puttered around town, enjoyed the scenery, gone for long walks, and eaten hearty lunches. But, alas, we had three days left and more peninsula to see.

Bye, bye, blood pudding. I was very happy to meet your acquaintance, and I'd like to think our paths will cross again.

The Welsh equivalent of the American pink flamingo.

The ubiquitous pink flamingo:



The ubiquitous...butterfly?:




Oh-hhh! I see.

I wants this for Christmas, Santa.

Roadtrip, roadtrip! Wales here we come! Part One.

My first trimester is finished kicking my ass, and my second trimester is letting me get back to "normal," which means:

I can maintain a vertical position for more than an hour.

I can eat onions again.

I can stay awake for more than two hours.

I don't feel like dying.

These are all good things, as I like living. So, Stu and I thought we would push/celebrate our good fortune and take a roadtrip to Wales over the American Labor Day holiday. (So, yes, I realize these posts are late and backdated, but, hey, we are talking about the pregnant dead coming back to life. Throw us a bone here.)

The idea of leaving the house thrilled me with giddy excitement. Where would we go? What would we do?

Ultimately, we settled on North Wales, and we took a route that led us through Porthmadog, onto the Llyn Peninsula, to the towns of Criccieth, Nefyn, and Nant Gwrtheyrn. Then, we came back through the peninsula and stopped in at the scenic "town" of Portmeirion.

It was then I realized that we did indeed push our good fortune and that I was still pregnant and that my body required rest. I took many Rolaids and clutched my stomach as we drove back to England.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Onto Wales. Westward, ho!

Why did the sheep cross the road....?

To get to the other side!

And catch a ride to the nearest pub, presumably. Silly city-folk.

(Btw, I loves Wales! It's so pretty! And so hilly! And it reminds me of Bosnia! I miss Bosnia : (