Nestin'

To make up for my neglect here, I'm doubling up and posting twice in one day... can you tell I'm an all or nothing kind of gal?

So I've been nesting. Cleaning, cooking-- I've got sugar-free spelt banana bread cooking in the oven and beans simmering for bean burgers on the stovetop. I think there is only one room in the house that I'd be really embarrased to have anyone in should we have an incident that brings unexpected company. I have never felt so much like an animal as I have lately-- knowing that these domestic urges are the product of hormones beyond my control. I can almost see myself flitting out to the yard to collect leaves and branches, carrying them back to the house in my teeth, where I proceed to fashion them into an actual giant nest. It could happen.

Also I was driving today and that Five for Fighting song, 100 years came on and I burst into tears. What am I becoming?!? I think what got me about the song, besides just the unpredictability of hormone surges, is that for the last 34 & 1/3 years it's pretty much been all about me. Not that I'm a completely selfish person, but, well, kinda. Now there's going to be someone else to think about, someone completely dependant on us to steward him through the beginning of his life. As happy and exciting as this whole thing is, there's a bittersweetness about giving up my previous life for this new one. I'm like this about all life changes-- I tend to be very sentimental and have a difficult time anticipating major life shifts. Then, once the shift happens, I'm always okay, and in fact usually better. But the anticipation is a struggle for me. It's a good thing I married an optimist-- as my dad once said "Scott has such a sunny disposition. And you occasionally do, too."

Rant for the week: Sciatica. It sucks. My back hurts and my leg is numb most of the time. Although as a friend pointed out, perhaps the numbness will continue, and perhaps head a bit north, and serve as a natural epidural.

Rave: Dexter, season two. I enjoyed season one, but I think I was still mourning the end of Six Feet Under and couldn't detach David's character from Dexter. But season two rocked. Not as gory as season one, either. Likey.