Oh, man, I am falling behind on this whole website thing. The past few weeks have been very busy (if I were the type to say “hella busy,” I would say that, but I’m not, so “really busy” will suffice) what with traveling around the state bringing the good word of emporiumism to the masses (masses = 20 people in each location) and rearranging our house to make room for our new roommate who is scheduled to move in at the end of April.

I so envy Liz and her almost empty baby-to-be room. Our baby’s room used to be the guest room, and we really need to keep a guest room, so that was a problem. To solve this equation, we used the following formula.

1. Larry will build a shed.
2. That will be the baby’s room.
3. Not really.
4. All of Larry’s many, many, MANY tools will move into said shed and leave the laundry room.
5. The laundry room can then house other household things that are currently jammed in other places, such as the guest room.
6. Contents of the back room will be dispersed throughout the house.
7. Larry’s office will move to the back room.
8. The new guest room will move to Larry’s old office.
9. The old guest room will become the baby’s room.

It’s so simple, really! I used to scoff at people who add additional rooms to their houses in the last months of pregnancy; now I see that it doesn’t matter what your plan is: your house is still going to suck for awhile as you prepare for baby (unless you are LIZ and move into a new house; no, I’m not bitter). The problem with shifting all the furniture around is that there is mess everywhere. At least when you move in a new place, you have a blank slate. You don’t have to work your desk around the previous owner’s theremin (AHEM, LARRY) or collection of Every Tiny Notebook She Has Ever Carried Around in Her Purse, Ever. So our house has looked like the equivalent of a clown car, except with furniture and stacks of books and random computer equipment and cords that no one knows the function of. In other words, it is awesome.

This weekend we got a lot of stuff done; while there’s still a pile of stuff for Goodwill or the attic in the hallway, most everything is at least in the room where it will eventually live. It still sucks, though. It might continue to suck for awhile. I actually think it might eternally suck, in which case, I will go live in the shed.

Also: this weekend a wizened old lady took one look at my belly and said, April 10. I said, No, my due date is April 29. She said, I’M TELLING YOU, APRIL 10. I tend to believe the wizened, so now I am afraid I only have 6 more weeks.

Greetings!

Things I Have Seen Lately:

1. Three coin purses at Fred’s Dollar Store; one said Mrs. Kutcher, one said Mrs. Affleck, one said Mrs. Timberlake.
2. Vanity tag: KREWZN
3. My ankles, swollen to unattractive proportions.

Things I Have Heard Lately:

1. A teenage girl wearing a t-shirt with the name of her high school on it tell her baby she was “gonna whoop [his] butt” and then in the next breath talk to the receptionist about whether Medicaid would pay for her sonogram.
2. A redneck use the word “throwed” in telling a story about how his friend resolved his anger over receiving an incorrect Burger King order. (He drove back through the drive-thru and throwed the Whopper at the window.)
3. The audible revolt coming from my stomach after I ate too many Girl Scout cookies (duh, Samoas; are there any other flavors?).

Things I Have Read Lately:

1. My fascination with all things Mitford continues, and I am thoroughly enjoying The Mitfords: Letters Between Six Sisters. I am smitten with their nicknames (Farve! Decca!) and their secret languages (Boudledidge!) and their politics (Nazis!).
2. This email from a friend I have not seen or talked to since 1991: i’m in crisis mode having to do with an alcoholic house guest who i am madly in love with and trying to get into a rehab program.

Do y’all know about Nick Hornby’s blog? I didn’t until this morning (thanks, Roy!). You should go read this about Oxford, probably.

What is the first thing Larry said to me this morning?

a) Good morning, my darling. Can I get you anything?
b) Did you sleep well, my sweet?
c) I love you, my most precious wife.
d) What are we having for dinner tonight?

Yesterday:

Redneck 1: How many orange juices you got in your cart?
Redneck 2: Six.
Redneck 1: Only six? We got all that peach schnapps to drink!

Last week:

Preteen Redneck Girl 1: Look how many pieces of gum I got left!
Preteen Redneck Girl 2: Only one?
Preteen Redneck Girl 1: That’s because y’all chewn it all!
Preteen Redneck Girl 2: Chewn?
Preteen Redneck 1: Chown. Whatever.

I don’t know if I’ve ever gone for almost a week without posting something here. I have been busy, and sometimes out of town, and sometimes getting laryngitis, and sometimes having to give 5-hour presentations with laryngitis. Also, it is possible that some kind church ladies left a smoked chicken on my doorstep. I think that wraps up all the interesting things that have happened to me lately.

I’m currently reading The Correspondence of Shelby Foote and Walker Percy, and damn: that Shelby Foote, he’s got an ego on him. Percy kept all of Foote’s letters and Foote didn’t start keeping Percy’s letters until 1970 or so, so
for awhile there it’s all Foote, all the time. A person could be forgiven for thinking Foote is egotistical after one reads 13 letters in a row that are essentially this:

Dear Walker,

1. I AM THE GREATEST WRITER OF ALL TIME.
2. Stop being Catholic! It’s ruining your writing.

Love,
Shelby

A few weeks ago I read Then We Came to the End but didn’t really love it. I know. So disappointing. It was pretty good, and I actually laughed out loud in a couple of places, and there is a nice meta moment near the end, and it nails cube-life, but still: I did not love it. However, if you’ve read it, when you imagined Tom Mota, was it Creed from The Office? And did Joe Pope arrive in your head in the guise of Toby from The Office? It is possible that I watch too much tv. Not that there’s lots of tv to watch these days. However, I have managed to get by somehow.

So there is Project Runway, which FINALLY got rid of Crying Ricky — WHO DID NOT CRY WHEN ELIMINATED, GO FIGURE — and there is the new season of Lost, which I love and am stressed out by at the same time, and there is The Millionaire Matchmaker, which is lame but still intriguing, and there is In Treatment, which I am watching even though each episode is boring until roughly minute 18:43 when something interesting happens, but because it’s just two people talking you can’t fast forward to that moment, you have to watch the whole thing.

The show is on 5 days a week; each day you see Gabriel Byrne’s therapist character have a session with a certain patient; Mondays it’s Laura, etc. I have not been to therapy more than a couple of times so I do not know if it is normal to scream at your therapist, but Gabriel Byrne gets screamed at and dumped on a lot. By his new patients, by his old patients, by the mailman, by the dog, everyone screams at and dumps on Gabriel Byrne. AND THEN on Fridays he goes to his own therapist, who he then screams at and dumps on. Is this what therapy is? Because it sounds fun.

And in unrelated news, if you love Morrissey, go look at this picture. Make sure your boss isn’t standing directly behind you when you do.

Also, happy birthday to Gorjus today! He’s really old now and has probably already gone home to go to bed.

Have you Jaxxonians seen those “PRAY FOR JACKSON” bumper stickers? Have you noticed that they are always on cars with Rankin or, worse, Madison county license plates? Do you fly into a rage every time? No? It’s just me?

Speaking of Jaxxon, you should read/watch this.

PRAY FOR JAXXON!

(Not Jaxxon related, but cool: this New Yorker piece about all the books Art Garfunkel has read. Here’s the list itself.)