Can I just say that I…

Can I just say that I think it's cute that Kevin keeps buying big fat science books on early childhood development? (And he actually reads them, of course.) Whereas I apparently just want to go to the craft store and get supplies to make mobiles of dragons and castles and such (which I have neither time nor energy nor skill to do well, but the impulse is there). I love me my science guy.

Yesterday went slower than hoped -- I was at the hospital for three+ hours doing the various tests, and only got through half my errands before exhaustion slew me; I came home and just collapsed for the rest of the evening. On the plus side, the ultrasound looks good -- baby is the perfect size for her current age (27 weeks and 6 days today), and she's moving around like crazy. She was actually super-cute in the ultrasound yesterday; she kept grabbing her feet and pulling them up to her mouth, as if she were about to suck on her toes. Not that I would have been able to tell this if the ultrasound tech hadn't carefully pointed out the various blobs to me and explained what they meant -- but once I understood, I was totally charmed. :-)

I did get up and write a scene this morning, which is pleasing. Hope to write some more later today, if all goes well. Plan for the day -- go in and teach until 2, run some more errands, come home by 5 and then try to write a bit if not too tired. We'll see.

One of the things I'm liking about writing this novel is that I'm just writing scenes as they please me, and not worrying about whether I'll be keeping them or not. I have almost nothing in the way of plot planned out this time around, and I'm still just figuring out their characters as they emerge. It's fun. :-)

A few paragraphs from the morning's writing:

Age nine, their birthday party. Their mother had stayed up late the night before, making two large butter cream cakes. She'd decorated them both -- Ari's with a jungle scene, the golden lions he was named after stalking through a dark green forest. Tarani's with pink bougainvillea flowers, cascading over the sides of the cake. It must have taken her hours, and that morning, when Tarani opened the fridge and pulled out her cake, she almost didn't have the courage to do what she did next. The flowers were so beautiful, delicate and perfect.

She took a fork and started digging in. Tarani ate three slices' worth, devouring more than fifty tiny blossoms. Then she slid it back into the fridge, went back to her room, and waited to be discovered. Guilty on three counts: one, that the cake would be messed up for the party that afternoon with their school friends. Two, that the relatives stopping by for lunch wouldn't have a chance to admire it. And three, that Tarani had gained almost ten pounds this past summer, and her mother had been trying to get her to eat less and exercise more. Her mother was thin and beautiful. Tarani hated her for that too.

She sat in her room and waited, until finally she heard the kitchen door slam. She ran downstairs then, through the long hallway to the kitchen, only to find Ari already there, the fork in his hand and traces of pink cream on his face. He hadn't even eaten more of the cake -- it looked just like she'd left it. He must have deliberately taken some frosting and smeared it on his dark lips. And then waited there, fork suspended in the air, until their mother came downstairs. And now he was saying, "I'm sorry, amma -- I was just so hungry, and there was nothing else in the fridge" Which was ridiculous and obviously untrue, but his eyes were brimming with tears, and their mother took a deep, deep breath, before saying -- "It's all right. There's still time for me to fix it. I'll just cut off the end; no one will know that it was meant to be larger." Then she smiled, and ruffled his hair, saying, "Growing boys need to eat, I suppose." And Tarani turned and ran back upstairs, her fists clenched tight at her sides, face flushed with swallowed rage.