Jazz takes her responsibilities seriously

Well this is us, another month down the track. I can't believe it's been four weeks since our anniversary (and the 28 week belly shot). It's alternately the fastest and the longest pregnancy in history, surely. Well, discounting celebrity ones, because they always seem to go for 3 years.

This is not a posed photo. Jazz often comes and sits dutifully in front of me now and just staaaares. She has taken to checking on my growing stomach often, she sticks her nose right against it and takes a big double-checking doggy sniff. Very delicately. She's very sweet. Funny that through all my other pregnancies, we didn't have her. We had needy Pep, who didn't pick up on it once, not even with Ella. But by 14 weeks with Lolly, Jazz was my overenthusiastic, severely over-waggy-tailed protector. I think she has a touch of The Shining. Except that she's neither a 5 year old boy with an imaginary friend called Tony, nor an old cook with a really big painting of a black woman with a massive afro above her bed. Oh, sorry..... have I just given away that I've seen The Shining once too often (the original, of course)? With that insipid, annoying bloody woman?

However, this isn't about Danny warning about redrum. This is about Lolly. At 32 weeks. And pushin' it. Reeeeeally pushin' it (the friendship, that is) right about now. Can't walk. I look at things I want/need, willing them to be within arm's reach so I don't have to put weight on my dicky right leg. But so far I haven't made anything levitate.

And I am thinking of asking Steve to get me a commode. Heh, hell he does everything else for me right about now. Why not get down to the nitty gritty and see how deep the rivers really run. Yeahhhh.