Kari

Painted really late last night. Fell asleep on the couch feeding the baby afterwards. Got up at 3:30, hertofore known as redicuously early, and started sorting clothes. cuz’ you know, it has to happen sometime.

Piles look like this:

Nursing tops.

Undergarments : pregnancy panties, regular underwear, gads I’m big but not quite in pregnancy panties, stuff that goes under slick, tight dresses that I don’t wear anymore but, hey, I might someday.

Pregnancy clothes

Summer/fall shirts

Winter sweaters

Things to hang up

Overwhelming pile of pantyhose that may or may not have snags/runs

Jeans/pants

The clothes worn while pregnant, but not quite in pregnancy pants are of a different season than things worn while recovering from pregnancy. I’ve made this work by wearing skirts most of my pregnancies and recoveries. Recovery takes a YEAR. That’s a full year of changing seasons that I’m not in my regular clothes…which after two pregnancies and a recovery and a half are sorely out of style or full of holes because I wore them for two-three months and  never replaced the things that were damaged. I wasn’t wearing them, why replace them? Wheh. Is it the clothes or the sentence that made me tired?

So maybe when I’m done with pregnancy and recover entirely and don’t get pregnant again, I won’t feel the need for a dresser on top of the closet system we just installed.

The shoe racks with Kari’s Shoes.

The box that is full of shoes that are in good enough shape to be worn by other people.

The total Kari Shoe-age after paiing down, plus something other pair of barn boots.

This is currently my favorite spot. It’s in a corner, so the world can only come at me from the one area. There are flowers and a window so I can still involve myselt in the universe, it’s by the stove, it’s great.

Does starting lacto cultures in my  pantry make me a fringe group?

I have two soups and kombucha going, on the third load of dishes and the second of laundry. The infant is sleeping. The toddler is entertaining herself by feeding the cats and picking which pair of shoes to wear. We are happy.

Now I’m old. I dress conservatively and 22 year olds look very young.

Have been reading in a jump in and do it fashion. I’ve got two histories of sorts, “The true story of Captain Kidd” and “Journey Long and Strange.” So we have the story of a pirate hunter turned pirate with the  and the story of America from the time of Eric the Red to the Mayflower in a very personal-journey sort of way. Also I am reading “Tempted” from the House of the Night series. Why? I don’t know. There isn’t enough frivolity. And then my serious, I gotta read this book is “The untold story of Milk.” I will probably never drink pasteurized milk again. Not true, I’m sure, but it will make me think before I do it. The final book is “Nurturing Traditions,” a wonderful cookbook recommended by a wonderful cook who thinks the same way we do about the joy of fats in food not making you fat.

I miss my alpacas and my horse very much. I know that it is only a short time and there are other horses and alpacas in the world, but I keep calling my son Ivan and Yuri was the cutest little alpaca I’ve ever seen. And look at this good boy! He’s a big puppy dog of a horse that wants nothing more approval and complete attention.

After the ordeal with the Oregon Zoo last year where I had to use a breast pump in the bathrooms without hot water to wash the equipment in, it was great to see Activistas make a point.

For the first time in years I watched Dead Like Me. Of course, I watched the movie.