Bits and bites

Every conversation I have these days:

"Hey you! How are you doing? When are you due?"

"August."

"Wow, that's coming up. Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"

"A girl. Hopefully, 'cause you know, otherwise he'll be wearing lots of girlie stuff."

"Wow, great. Any names picked yet?"

"Well, we have a shortlist. Haven't made the final decision."

"What's on the shortlist?"

"There are a bunch, and they keep changing."

"What are some of them?"

"If you ask me again I'm going to shoot you in the knees." (Ok I made up that last part but you get the drift.)

It's getting a bit repetitive. I understand that people are fascinated or feel compelled to discuss life-changing events, but just once I wish someone would ask me something interesting like "what are your strange ailments this week?" or "what crazy nesting things have you done recently?"

So let's talk about something else. We're at a lovely point right now where the bulk of our major summer projects are done. The house is all blue now, the garden is in though kind of completely neglected, brother-in-law's cottage is safely in the hands of Georg the Austrian carpenter and is looking mighty fine, and we have a dock. We haven't really used it much yet, and you can't yet walk onto it from land (we need to build one more little section, but that can wait) but the dock itself is pretty spectacular if I do say so myself. It took us two full weekends to build. The first weekend the weather was crap: we packed the truck to the tits and stacked a ton of wood into our motorboat, on its trailer, and pulled the lot of it up to the lake. We did two loads in the motorboat, from the boat launch to our beach (much easier than walking everything down the hill to the waterfront on our own piece of land). It drizzled most of the day and was windy, but it kept the bugs off of us as we worked. The second day we managed to get one dock almost done (without decking) and the outline of the second piece done. There it sat for a whole week. The following Saturday, we were joined by my mom and dad, and we finished it all off, hooked it together, and just tied it to a tree. The weather was glorious and much fun was had by all. On Sunday, hubby and I went up and transported the weights across the lake in the boat, put the dock into position, anchored it and chained it into place. Then we dove off of it. Apparently pregnant ladies aren't supposed to dive but I took the chance and I think everything's ok – baby still kicks and rolls with the best of 'em so I'm not too worried. I burnt my belly. Here's our dock as it floats today:

This weekend, we will likely attach our temporary ramp, dock ladder, and boat cleats to complete the picture (for now). THEN I will wait on pins and needles until my latest acquisition comes in the mail, which is one of these:

To REALLY complete the picture. Too bad I can't paint a margarita into the frame.

Once that's all done it's all about enjoying it. I have next week off work (I know, decadent eh? To take a week off one month before leaving on a year's mat leave?) so I will probably grab the dog a couple of times and go up there to swim and hang out with Georg and Mrs. Georg and the little Georges, who arrive Monday. Then there are a few weekends in July that we can spend up at the trailer, before the insanity begins.

Speaking of insanity, the writing of this post was just interrupted by a 5.5 magnitude earthquake. Freaky. Time to go!

Fluffing the Nest

There's a phenomenon in late pregnancy called 'nesting', wherein the mother prepares and fluffs her nest in preparation for the arrival of her little one. Often, this results in psychotic cleaning episodes where a 41-weeks-pregnant woman can be found on a ladder cleaning the upper corners of her bathroom with a toothbrush, or on her hands and knees at the back of a closet, insisting that every piece of dog hair and every single cobweb must be removed from the house before the baby arrives or else everything will be ruined.

I have heard of these psychotic episodes. I am looking forward to them. I enjoy anything that increases my productivity and results in a clean house, so I'm counting on this last-minute spurt of energy to get things done.

However, I didn't really expect that the nesting instinct would kick in as early as it has. I have a low-grade nesting reflex going on right now, wherein I feel like all of my time is being squished through a funnel, or a cone, ending in mid-August when the baby's due to pop. I have counted down my work days (I think I'm at 33 left) and I am acutely aware that I have only 10 weekends until my due date. TEN, people. That is not enough weekends.

It started with the dock. I feel such panic about getting this dock into the water that I lose sleep and right now I have heartburn (may have been the pastry I had for breakfast, but I'll blame the dock). I have planned and re-planned this dock so many times. I have made lists of equipment needed, lists of steps to take, lists of things to pack into the truck. I am over the edge with this dock – just ask dear hubby. Once it's in, I will feel great relief, not only because it'll be done but because finally I'll be able to achieve my vision of sitting in a lounge chair at the END of said dock, soaking up the rays, drinking a cold non-alcoholic beer (Beck's 0.0% - kind of crappy but still) and hopefully relaxing the panic and heartburn that I will inevitably feel when I realize that at that point, there will likely only be EIGHT weekends left. Argh.

Just now I caught myself making another list. This is one of my great skills – my superpower, if you will. I make a mean list and consider them to be something of a hobby. Lists are like my drug – I can't stop myself from making them, and they always make me feel better. This list had the bold title: THINGS TO GET RID OF AND HOW because I truly fear that the house is being sunk by junk, that we have no more room to maneuver, and everywhere I look there's something that I want gone from my sight. I find it incredibly overwhelming – I can't even think about it. I want to hire someone to come in and do a clean sweep jobbie on the place while I'm at work or something, or sitting in a comfy chair barking orders.

I happily completed this list, which I broke down into things that can be thrown out or recycled, things to be tossed during Household Hazardous Waste Day – about which I am disproportionately excited (June 18! Whee!) – things to be donated to the SallyAnn, things that can be placed at the end of the driveway with a 'free to a good home' sign, things to be moved to my brother-in-law's cottage and things to be burned. Next, I flipped over the page and started a new list: CLEAN AND SORT. This fascinating list includes such things as "sort sock drawer again", "hall closet", "iron everything", "cupboard under the phone" and "sort kitchen cupboards."

It was only once I'd completed this list that I realized: holy cow, I am nesting. This is crazy even for me, and I am pretty crazy at the best of times (every weekend starts with a list). I still have two months to go and already I'm hot to sort out my sock drawer – imagine what things will be like come mid-August? Crack out the toothbrushes and stock up on cleanser, because I am well on my way.

One thing's for sure; where I was on the fence about keeping my cleaning ladies (there have been issues, already, two cleanings in. I just think that anyone who cleans the house should scrub our one toilet and dust something, y'know? Not too much to ask), I now believe that I can just dump them. I am going to be productive enough over the next two months that their once-biweekly floor washing will be/has become redundant. I don't need to pay someone to do the stuff that I am likely to re-do at 11 p.m. on a Tuesday night anyway, and with summer's open doors and muddy paws, their effort really makes zero difference.

So, I may have to call in my troops (mom, hubby, misc. friends) to give me a hand at certain points. Someone will have to help me by A) entertaining my need to sort things out, and B) calming me when I get overwhelmed or irrational. Hubby may have to adopt an extra regular chore here and there, and help me pack stuff up and haul stuff to the curb when I need it to be gone. I have only 10 weeks left people! After that, I suspect I will be out of commission.

Which I find terrifying. Ten weeks! (pant pant pant)

Rock Out With Your Dock Out

After a long day of walking the Glebe, hubby going fishing, swimming in the river with my dog and our new Austrian friend Georg, and partaking of a very loud disco/funk show at the local music hall, Sunday was finally the time to unwrap the bundle of wood that's been sitting in our driveway for a month and get down to business on the dock.

Our plan all along has been to mock-build the dock in our driveway at home, where it's flat and we have electricity, so that once we get it hauled up to the land all we have to do is transport it to the beach and knock it together. I say that so casually. We have a careful plan, which is like the 14^th version of the plan, and have thought out most of the bugs that we could encounter along the way. It's to be two docks actually, two 8 x 12' sections hinged together for two reasons: to provide greater flex in ice breakup and waves, and because finding, handling and transporting 24' boards would be next to impossible.

We set out a bit late on Sunday, so I was cranky as all hell. Seriously, I have adopted the persona of 'cranky pregnant lady' lately. I can't help it. I am pissed off at everyone, it would seem. People who call me on the phone, people who walk in front of me on the sidewalk, people on the elevators. No surprise then that I should be cranky when confronted with a stressful project like this dock. We had visions of getting both sections pre-cut, pre-drilled, hardware pre-installed in one day, but only got one half done, which rankled me. Last night we nearly completed the other half, so I'm doing a bit better.

But holy mackerel is a dock a money pit! I thought we were mostly done with the really expensive stuff, until I added up how many bolts of various types we will need to actually put it together. 64 carriage bolts, 64 lag bolts, miscellaneous other hardware and a whole lotta rope or chain is going to add another $200 to the bill, I'm sure. And then I remembered that we want a ladder too. Not a wooden one , 'cause they always get slimy, but a basic metal dock ladder. Add on another $150.

Anyway, the plan is to finish the bits in the laneway this week, load up the truck (precariously I'm sure) Friday night, and set out early Saturday morning for the lake, stopping for breakfast along the way. We will drive the truck to the lot first, where hubby will collect the tin boat and hook up the motor, then drive it to the boat launch, where I will be waiting with the truck. We will load the wood onto the boat, probably in three loads, strap it down, and drive it (slowly, carefully) to the beach. This will be much simpler than walking everything down the hill, especially considering that I am not so good at walking things down hills anymore.

Once there, we will attempt to 'knock it together'. There are other factors that have to be dealt with (factors like anchors, which I will be making out of two old tires, bent rebar, and cement) and I'm sure other horrible things will pop up, mistakes will be made, swearing will happen, we will fight like cats and dogs (or a cat and a dog, though my cat and dog actually get along very well) and one of us (probably me) will give up at some point and go sit by herself for awhile to blow off steam. Hopefully we will be able to swim. I suspect this could take us up to two full weekends to 'knock together' but we'll see – depends on how much help we've got, and where the energy level's at.

I'll be sure to take pictures. I promise this time.

Oh and as for the Great Glebe Garage Sale? Hubby bought a mannequin leg. He was the talk of the town.