From Diane Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale

People disappear when they die. Their voices, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living mempry of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continut to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humour, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic.

--Diane Setterfield



Tuesday, October 28, 2008

It was really cold when we woke up this morning. Scott had eggnog for breakfast... and a home made cinnamon roll...

I could not find warm clothes to wear. I only have one pare of pants, one pare of jean and one pare of size too small stretchy- show my fat rolls and garment lines- pants. I wore the size too small ones, but because they are too small, I have to wear them VERY low on my waist to they don't squish the baby. (If I didn't we'd have some Oriental feet wrapping thing going on before she is even born.)SO I had to wear a really long shirt to cover the parts of me that would be exposed. I could not find anything. I have shirts that are long enough... but they are also tight around all my squishy parts, you know, the parts that are squished out of my pants creating very unsightly bumps and bulges.

I ended up having an ugly girl dog day, and wore one of Scott's huge red fleece sweaters. It covered all bumps and bulges, including the baby and my butt!
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