In the morning we had a doctors appointment. Justin is doing as well as ever. He is growing and growing and growing.  (I refuse to think about how he’s ever going to come out). I’m just happy that he is doing will and moving a lot.

We had a fun photo session at a specialized photo studio.  We will soon have mommy daddy and belly pictures.  Not often we get to play model. It was fun.

The prenatal class was actually useful, granted it was too long as alway.    It was all about the why and the how of breast feeding.  Okay, must admit I have a bias for the subject.  Breast feeding looks like such a privileged time with baby. I’m so looking forward to it.

Just a couple of weeks left. sigh.

Who’s bones? What’s  bone soup?   Well… I guess you can also call it chicken soup made from scartch.  I think bone soup sounds better.

Want the recipe… am not a scrooge:

• Basically, I’ve been collecting bones from previous chicken meals and storing them in the freezer.
• I got a big pot and I dumped the frozen bones in there with lots of water.
• I added chicken sauce, left overs from previous meals.
• Added spices, clove, bay leaves salt and the like.
• Diced potatoes.
• Let the potion boil for about an hour.
• Add frozen veggies and noodles.
• Boil a little more.

Done

Where did  I get the idea for bone soup? I’ve been seeing a nutritionist (for the pregnancy), she strongly suggested that I start eating bones. Any bones, chicken, pork, beef , even fish.  That’s where the good stuff is.  Great source  of calcium and omega 3. Then I remembered how my mom use to eat the bones when I was little.

Also Steve (the wise man in the family) once told me about the Neanderthal man.   They didn’t have the physical strength of other animals but they had the smarts.  Apparently they got the smarts from eating the bones. They weren’t strong enough to kill, and not fast enough to get to the left over flesh before the vultures.  So they got the bones.  Good for them.

I’m making bone soup my new staple.

I found a couple of more elaborate recipes: http://www.cooks.com/rec/search/0,1-0,soup_bone,FF.html

Muslim Fashionista look by FreddyArtist

Why? Just because.  I wrote a Hub about Fulla the Fully dressed Barbie and as I was doing the research for the Hub, I fell upon this beautiful blog from a Muslim girl in Australia.   Hegab Rehab , It’s all about fashion and the Muslim attire. ( The two don’t automatically come together in my mind).

Sure enough I got hooked.  I started imagining what I would look like if I was Muslim. By that I mean, what if I had to follow strict rules about the way I dress.  No arms,  no legs to be seen, not too much neck out there.  What would I look like?  How would I make my mark, would I have a personal style.

Well… this is what I came up with.  Pink and black sophisticated trendy girly look.  That, I think would be my Muslim fashionista look. Put a couple of pieces together.  If you do that, you’ll notice that not much skin is left out to be seen. I also aded a couple of scarves to cover the head. I couldn’t find any picture of fashionable looking woman with their hair covered in the right style.  That part you’ll have to imagine.

All in all, not too bad is it? Now how come the fashionable Muslim girls are not out there?  I don’t know of any.

8 weeks.

Small group.

Very liberal approach by Naissance Renaissance.

I think we’re going to like this.

One disappointment:

No diaper changing.  Apparently we’re not going to be asked to put diapers on baby dolls.
Steve was a little disappointed. He’s not that familiar with the process.

You got it,  not a date with my hunk of a husband Steve, but a cozy beautiful alone time in the forest with a blanket on the floor, a couple of snacks and Justin.

Ok… enough teasing.  Justin is the beauty in my belly.

Last weekend I was at “Le domaine de la Voliaire” which is a nice retreat place out in Saint Jean de Matha.

I went with a group of fun woman.  On friday night we talked the way women do when there’s porto, chips, sweets, a fireplace and no man around.  The later it got, the louder the laughs.

The next day I was talked out, so I ditched them all except for one.   She and  I made a pact.  “I love you, but don’t talk to me”.  No talking during the walking.   We ended up in the forest on some sloppy terrain with a nice view.  My friend found a mini hut, made out of branches and twigs.  I left her there to enjoy her scrapbook, her crayons, flowers, bird wings and the dead insects that she picked up along the way.

I couple of steps higher, I settled on a little clearing in the middle of the pine trees.  I lay down my blanket and  I took in the sun.  The smell was a mixture of pine and wet ground in the summer.  It was busy  with birds  and squirrels everywhere.  I didn’t mind, I fell asleep.

When I woke up,  I put both my hands on my belly and I set about to survey the internal activities.  Sure enough Justin was awake.  He was just as chipper as I was.   It was beautiful, I was all smiles and he was having a party.   I can’t wait to meet him in person, It’s amazing how well we already get along.

I have this big pregnancy bible that I keep reading over and over again. There’s a section about possible symptoms one might experience. Well, the list is nearly endless and not just the numerous variations of morning sickness. You’ve got everything on that list; teeth decay, leg cramps, blurry vision, gastric reflux, headaches, nose bleeding, shortness of breath, memory lapses, anaemia and so on…

Did I mention stinky farts… Ok that one is not exactly on the list. But I tell you, I’ve suffocated myself and endangered the live of my loving husband enough times to know.

Oh, and on top of that… theirs an other human taking up space inside of you.

Enough said.

I’m making the big change because oil is killing me. No really literally it’s killing me. Albeit slowly, the chemicals and the stench of the oil is giving me a perpetual runny nose and sour throat.

I guess I’ll just have to lean to use acrylic.

Either that, or die young.

I opt for living.