whine about wine

The things I miss most when I'm pregnant are adult beverages. Lately I've been dreaming of red wine, especially tonight as I spent over two hours in the kitchen making my first attempt at eggplant parmesan. I love a little wine and cheese (standards playing in the background) while I'm cooking to remind me that the meal preparation is a ritual with sacred implications and not just something to get through in order to have food on the table. Then it was time to enjoy our eggplant parmesan and fresh bread and again I was longing for my wine. This week I'm missing that even more than margaritas. November feels far away.

I don't know where my mind has been this week; I feel like I haven't gotten any good thinking time. Seems like I'm not the only who has felt at times the strange power of motherhood to turn one's brain to mush. Surely I'll have interesting thoughts again, hopefully sooner than later. In the meantime, I started a new knitting project this week: One Fish, Two Fish by Blue Sky Alpacas. One for Amelia, one for junior. It's organic cotton, and it is so soft between my fingers that I can feel it melting my worries away.

I've been cleaning and examining the state of the house, noticing how it's the nature of things to move toward decay. It takes intention and effort to keep the forces of disrepair and wear and tear at bay. Justin says, "Does that make you a Domestic Warrior?" I don't know about that, but with our home's ten year anniversary coming up I sense several major projects heading our way. The blessing and the burden of ownership. . . .