Things continue to roll along in the Lemon apartment-hold.
For those of you who were concerned about my daisies (thank you for your condolences, by the way), I have some news on that front. Upon walking Sammy the Pug the other day, I noticed that some of my snapdragons looked especially shredded. Compared to the other snapdragons, at least, which looked decidedly non-shredded. Our neighbor Jesse, watering his new tomato plants, commented that he had scared some cats off my pots that morning. They were digging around in the dirt and, by all appearances, using my snapdragons for scratching posts. I do not know if cats are capable of decapitating daisies, but I'm tired of eyeing everyone in our complex suspiciously, so I shall blame my floral misfortunes on the felines. Until new evidence comes to light, anyway.
I bought an off-brand camera battery charger. It's on its way. You never know how much you'll miss something until it is gone. I miss taking pictures! Even if my only willing subject is the dog, and he's usually only willing because of the lethargy that makes him too incapacitated to object. Depending on the status of our tax return, I might make the jump for a DSLR camera. Time will tell. One complaint I have regarding self-employment is having to pay taxes instead of cheerily filing a W-2. Sigh.
We received a food dehydrator for Christmas (thanks, Mom!) and we finally busted it out this weekend. I'm in love. Yesterday, we made some dried pear slices. The slices dehydrated surprisingly well, considering the fruit was very ripe and pears are a juicy fruit to begin with. They are delicious and sweet and tangy. I like having good snacks on hand. Huzzah. As I write, some applesauce is being metamorphosed into fruit leather. Drool.
This week I brought lunch to a friend who'd just had a baby a little over a week before. It was strange to see her baby, since we had been with her and her husband a few days before the baby was born. There she was. "For reals," as they say. It freaks me out, in the best possible way, to see newborns. How can they be so small? How can they be so huge? Mike and I watched a few birth videos the other day on one of the many baby websites I'm now addicted to. Mike had some choice words about one birth in particular. I know that my body will change to allow this baby to come out. But still. Wow. Youch.
And yet, being around my friend's tiny newborn filled me with the sweetest feeling of calm. Babies do that, you know? Before we were able to conceive, I'd ooh and aah over other people's babies, and Mike would ask, "Do you want a baby?" He never said it unkindly; it was a thing that we did. I'd always answer dreamily, "Yeah..." Now I still ooh and aah over pictures of newborns, but when Mike asks, "Do you want a baby?" I just point to my belly and say, "Got one cooking!"
Somehow this became about babies again. Better sign off before I get swept up in my internal baby-mania.