04/07 3eme week/ 3rd week

Cette semaine, nous sommes devenus membres du musee d'art de Phoenix, qui cette semaine justement, avait une belle exposition de superbes voitures tels que des Delage, Bugatti, Tucker, Hispano-Suiza, et tant d'autres encore.
La photo du milieu est une Delahaye de 1939, celle du bas une Peugeot 402 de 1936.

A part ca, on attends toujours la venue de Florence. J'hesite a aller faire du planeur, car c'est loin de l'hopital au cas ou, mais ca commence a demanger quand meme. Qu'est-ce qu'elle fous? he, c'est l'heure!

By next week, I'll be ten months pregnant (oh, and don't argue with me on this one or I'll come to your house and slap a 40 pound ball onto your belly and squish your intestines and bladder and lungs to the point where they no longer function). TOO PREGNANT! TIME TO GET OUT NOW! NOW! NOW! Anyway....

Richard and I excurshed (word I just made up) to the Art Museum. We went for Rembrandt and cars. However, frankly, we both preferred the cars. The Rembrandt was supposed to be part of an exhibit of Dutch realism. However, there was no Vermeer - both of our favorite - so it was a let down. In fact, on many of the paintings I thought the frames were more impressive than the works themselves. But still...nice to see. And, as an American, it is still cool to see works of art in person you only see in books. Europeans get to see this kind of thing so often that it seems that it is no big deal to them. A "been there, done that" but for me there is still an awe factor to stand in front of something that has been around for hundreds of years. Can't get that in this country, unless you're talking about a natural phenomenom.

But the cars were gorgeous. Total salivating, wow, knock off your socks, drop your drawers kind of gorgeous. That was worth the trip, and the 30 some trips to El Bano it took me to get through the exhibit.

Other than that, we've been enjoying hanging out at the house and waiting, and waiting and waiting, and waiting (insert the narrator from Casablanca here). I've been trying to convince Richard to go gliding, but he's too nervous to do so at this point. He's a good dad already. Already worried about her and she's not even born.

Anyhoo, that's all for now. Today is an especially rough day as Florence seems bent on cutting off my lung function, and I've grown rather fond of breathing these last 40 years.

Oh, and just another note to all those other moms out there telling me how easy it was to be pregnant. If I was doing this in my 20s, it would probably be easier too. But there are a great many things (like going running, trenching a backyard, pulling an "al'nighter," or even simply getting out of one's chair) that seem to go with much more suffering when done in one's 20s as opposed to one's middle agessssss.

Ah! I am the Middle Ages! Salut!