My Brothers In Christ

They said they wouldn't, now they are, and just like that...they're all sold out.

Looks like I'll be scalping with a baby on board.

This Is Your Brain on Pregnancy

"Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward." Psalm 127:3

I'm drawn to the color orange these days. I think it has to do with my longing for the infamous cup of Mud Coffee Coco sludge with steamed half and half I'd treat myself to on a frosty morning on 9th Street with the sun filtering through the hope springs eternal Ginkgos.
That's one answer.
The other could be, the accent wall in what will become baby's room is orange. And I find myself staring at it, slack jaw with anticipation for the moment again when I can savor a hot, dark cup of Joe that doesn't make my heart race with jitters and turn my already burning chest on cinder blocks into an active environment of pure lava.
Until then, I will sip this faint brown water, bang on my computer keys, and sing in a shrill voice "Those Were The Days, when all it took was ground beans to makes me smile and some good, primitive, sex to get my uterus to contract.

Now, I just focus on it.
And like I watched pot. It doesn't boil.

Here's what has been the biggest surprise of the powerful life force growing inside me...
 In my last month, I have managed to shrug off celebrities and posers Barak Obama and Tiger Woods engaging in a game of golf on an exclusive course on yet another presidential vacation despite press corps' aggravation.
And this woman who painted Zeta Reticule aliens on my college apartment walls, who is passionate about the moon and stars and drinks from a Roswell mug, just simply uttered the words Asteroid and Meteor as if I was saying hello and goodbye.
Cop killers, lovers quarrels, decomposing bodies in hotel's drinking water cisterns, liberals hypocrisy of turning the other cheek to their savior's love for killer drones all have become muted background noise in a once deafening world.

 And as the lost  and rather loudworld has continued to spin around me, the more I've gone inward.
The more I've resided inside, the more peaceful I've become.
And in this relative peace, I've realized that while my pelvis seizes up and my middleweight MMA Fighter clobbers and kicks my rib cage well after the bell has rung...in the words of Metallica great James Hatfield...because of this new being...NOTHING ELSE MATTERS.

"Trust I seek and I find in you

Every day for us something new
Open mind for a different view
And nothing else matters..."

A Taste of Dixie Dandy

"Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me." John 15:4

And just like that, all became quiet and quaint on our southern front.

It's been six months since we left the northeast and two wicked storms later, we seem to have been warmly embraced by our town as my tap root grows a green shoot and looks for water and sturdy soil.

In the last rather social week, we've wept on our knees with other believers in the parlor of a Pre-Civil War Antebellum home, all claiming that nothing but the blood of Jesus is our redeeming salvation.

Discussed with a handful of couples dwelling in the land of breeders that corporal punishment is alive and well and exactly what's missing in the world of entitled Godless ones...

Sipped scotch (club soda) on the porch of one of the South's oldest private clubs with two other Manhattanite transplants. As the unseasonably warm sun sunk over the cobblestones and into the ripples of the Cape Fear River, we clinked our glasses in an unspoken agreement that we were all glad to have left the madness behind.

Shared heaping bowls of greasy Pad Thai with other expectant parents, while comparing gun and ammo ownership, appreciation, and the depleting stock of local artillery shops who just can't keep up with young family's recent demands.

And then ultimately, along with our unborn baby, we were showered with the generous love and hospitality of the residents of our "Old Money" street where a lifetime member of Junior League and Garden club presented us a big yellow bow clad heirloom rocking chair, which belonged to her recently passed son, kissed my mouth, and said I'll be your local Grandma.

I choked back my homemade pimento cheese and smoked pork rib roll, looked at my husband, and said..."Could we may finally be home?"

It Helps and Hurts the Anticipation

"People talk about how painful contractions are because they're so strong. But what we want woman to know is that the strength of that contraction is the strength of their own bodies. They are as strong as the contraction is. And so they are able to manage it."

Water Baby