Sunday

It's a lazy Sunday afternoon here. Suzanne and Maryn are reading and Avery is napping. Suzanne asked if Avery was really sleeping or if she was faking. Maryn authoritatively answered: "Avery would never fake being asleep with her mouth half open."

Suze came to an hour of church today for the first time in a month. She left after Sacrament meeting but came home feeling hot, claustrophobic, and a little nauseated. It was warm in the meetinghouse and someone sitting near us was wearing enough perfume to raise the national alert level to orange because of possible chemical attack.

Ever since last week when we got the good news that her cervix had thickened back up, Suze has been up more, doing more, but we're both thinking now that she needs to go back to taking it really, really easy. We're still two weeks away from her not being required to be Lifeflighted to Peoria if she goes into labor. Even then, that only puts her at 34 weeks and we'd much prefer it if she'd make it to at least 36 weeks.

(I will never be entirely comfortable talking about my wife's cervix to other people.)



I watched The Lady Eve by Preston Sturgess the other day. It was funny and charming but Henry Fonda was not really cut out as a comedic leading man. I get that his character was supposed to be stiff and naive but he didn't have the charm that would have justified Barbara Stanwyck's character falling in love with him.

After I watch Sullivan's Travels and On the Beach (which are sitting on top of the DVD player as we speak, quietly wondering why they've had to sit there all week), I'll watch 42nd Street, Top Hat, Pinky, Leave Her to Heaven, and Quo Vadis. Then I will have officially watched more than my fair share of classical Hollywood films and I can turn my Netflix queue to things like The Incredible Hulk and Brothers and Sisters on DVD.

A member of our ward mixed us up some sloppy joes for dinner so I guess I'll go heat that up.