Saturday, October 8, 2011
Sorry for the lousy phone picture, but I want to share that nineteenth century French table that I fell in love with in Baltimore a couple of weeks ago. I'm ninety percent certain that we don't have a shot at the house that I'd like to buy it for, though we did get a call from the Realtors the other day asking if we'd be willing to review another counter offer (over a month after our original negotiations broke down). They're still a lot higher than I'm willing to commit to, so the likelihood of us moving forward is slim, and sadly this table is probably not in the cards.
But that doesn't change how much I love it.
I'd put it in the long, narrow sitting room and and tear down the wall in the current dining room, doubling the size of the kitchen. It would take quite a bit of work (not really, just a some demolishing, reconfiguring, refinishing, floors and cabinetry), but the sitting room faces the lake and I can imagine having dinner parties and cozy holidays overlooking the water. That table would work beautifully.
In other news, Andrew and I have been outdoors working out a lot lately. Mostly running on that beach and kicking around the soccer ball at the park and long neighborhood walks with warm tea. It's been rainy and in the high seventies, the best weather for a nauseous overheated pregnant lady, and it's one of the only times of the day when I don't feel like my stomach is being beaten with fourteen golf clubs and a Vegas style hangover.
Which reminds me, we had another ultrasound. A little preview, if you will.
The doctor said, "It's, uh, really wiggling in there," and I looked and was all, "IS IT NORMAL FOR OUR FETUS TO BE BREAKDANCING?"
Apparently, it is.
But I like breakdancers and I love babies, so I'm rolling with it for now.