30 weeks and counting...

I think.

I lose track of the weeks thing sometimes. That could be problematic soon but at the moment, it just means I'm reading the wrong chapter in my "How to be a Pregnant Person" guide and thinking the baby is the size of melon when really it's a pineapple. I do believe we are now past the food comparison stages.

Lots has happened in the last couple months but this note is really about where Sal has been. In utero, obviously - but Oh, the Places You'll Go in utero.

We stayed close to home in May. In June, Sal and parents went to Las Vegas for a weekend. Don't let the Eiffel Tower fool you... Mom & Sal went to St. Louis and Dallas for short work trips. Sal *did not* love flying to those humid places. In July, the kiddo and I went to Ohio for Hollow Rock. Also humid but worth it for time with the Schmitz rugrats, friends and cousins. Then we drove to the top of Mt. Princeton in Buena Vista, CO, with Henry. He didn't pass out from the altitude. Not even out of the hatch and Sal has summited his or her first 14er! (See Colorado Fourteeners) In August, the family took a bit of time for a western-based road trip, up through Wyoming, into Montana to visit the Grahams and kick around Glacier NP (see header photo), and back down through Yellowstone.
Hiking Glacier Gangsta - look for our rap album. Sal at powwow in Heart Butte, MT.
Hanging out by 1 of 10,000 geo thermal features in Yellowstone NP. That's sulfur, Sal - not Mommy.

And lest I be neglectful of Sal's certain future love for America's game... we all made it to two Rockies games this season. Our friends - Cubs fans - don't seem too heartbroken that they just got whooped by Carlos Gonzalez's game-winning CYCLE.


Next week, Sal and I have a conference in Indianapolis (500 authors!) and we'll be back in Ohio to spend a bit of time with the whole Hill crew before our "confinement".

I would love to say that our little developing person jetsetted to Paris, Dublin, and Dubai - but that will have to wait a few months, at least. And until Paul wins the Lotto or invents the next post-it note.

On going and returning

As not many know this blog exists - has existed, not sure about the proper tense here - I'm not sure the Marcheses' absence was too terribly newsworthy.

But it feels a bit therapeutic (the only reason to blog at all, right?) to at least put out there the reason we took a leave of absence. Very simply, my mom was probably the only regular reader and it was a way to share life with her. After she died in the fall, the only thing I really had to blog about was losing her and it just wasn't the right time and place for that. It still isn't the time or place.

However, it's a perfectly fine time to chat with the world about Sal. Sal is our gender-neutral nickname for the little Hill-Marchese mash-up developing even as I type. She/he is expected to join the household right around Thanksgiving (November 26th to be more precise), and promptly take over.

I have felt pretty good, no real complaints other than being pregnant is weird. My sister has been pregnant quite a bit of the last five years and I'm not really sure how you get used to it. Tiny bladder, weird aches, veiny legs. No caffeine, no adult beverages... and perhaps worst of all - no sushi.

To Paul's chagrin, we do not have plans to find out if Sal is a Salvatore or Sally Mae. I'm having long talks with baby about being modest during the next picture show (aka ultrasound).

The office/second bedroom/Sal's room was painted last month for visiting guests... pina colada. So, light yellow.

We are excited and terrified, in what I think are appropriate proportions. Having answering only to our own whims for most of our adult lives, Paul and I are certain God is about to introduce us to humility and acts of service in big new ways. Hope we make good students.

{Forget BabyWise.. this is the book for me :)}

Calendar...you deceptive little minx

Our summer flashed by, like a brief lightning storm on a July evening. This bums me out because for years, all those single years, time crawled. Now that we're together and really appreciating the all moments instead of racing around, trying to find Mr./Mrs. Right instead of Right Now, the days evaporate. {Hear it gets worse after you have kids}

So now it's suppose to be fall. And we took a brief drive into the mountains recently to confirm that yes, the aspens are turning gold. But our fall drive betrayed us when the snow blew in... and not just a little snow. It snowed in Colorado Springs too, mostly up north, and when the clouds lifted this morning, the foothills were dusted white. I had to coax our furnace out of summer hibernation. The butternut squash, tucked in the crisper drawer, insisted in becoming a hearty (and super tasty) soup. Paul wore long pants to work.

At work, I'm editing books that release in May 2010, back in the bloom of Rocky Mountain springtime. Last week, I had paperwork due for books that don't release until fall of next year. Our calendar says we still have a week or two before peak leaf-peeping, or farmers' market season ends, and still plenty of time to grill without wearing gloves and a scarf, yet the cold crept under our heavy comforter and woke me up last night. I'm thoroughly confused.

We're loving the moment we're in... but keeping the snowboots handy and an eye on that shifty calendar.

"You can reach me by railway"

When I came home from my most recent travels, Paul had "Get Here" playing on the iTunes. You know the song... the one with this brilliant lyricism:

You can reach me by caravan
Cross the desert like an Arab man
I don't care how you get here
Get here if you can.

And it was certainly the theme song for our summer trips to visit family in Ohio & PA and travel with an author on a booksigning tour. I don't think Oleta Adams covers Amish buggy in the song, but I used that method too. {No pics, of course. You'll just have to take my word for it.}

Here are a few of the characters who make getting there more than worth all that camel spittle.

Cardsharks Grandma and Avery.

Cookie Monster Isaac
Cale, with the big baby blues

Cameron shows how much we love vacationing at Shell Bay...

...and how fun bouncing on the Wildwood Boardwalk is, although Gavin, who was "just" tall enough this year might have loved it more.
But from the look on G's face, bouncing is really good times with lobster in the belly.

Sandi and Grammie Barb absolutely agree.
Evan Gow tells his mom that she makes a fine bounce machine, even without the fancy lights or shellfish.


At the Thurman Cafe, in C-town, O-H-I-O, the legendary burgers are all by dwarfed by the fine fellowship with the excellent Thurman...
and my wonderful host-bro with the most-est, Trent.

Author and road warrior Cindy Woodsmall, plus her big ole poster in Pittsburgh's Joseph-Beth, one of five signings where I tagged along.

Models of Domesticity

My parents like to suggest that the mister and I are all "go go go". I think this is because we both are employed in cities where we load into our cars and drive to work, and sometimes driving to work results in errand-running at lunch or going to gym after work, or stopping for groceries/gas, swinging by the farmers' market so we can have produce. I think this is the difference of living "in town" or "out of town." In both places, you'll drive 10-15 minutes to run an errand, but living in town, it just happens to be on the way home.

So they always seem surprised if the weekend was spent cleaning gutters, planting perennials, weed wacking, baking egg muffins or peach tarts. But my back porch, where we read and eat and lounge in the warm weather, is not going to summer-fy itself and I like the yardwork and gardening...a full-time job with the watering required. Paul seems to like helping, but he may just be talking sweet to get some peach tart.

This weekend, we'll have a picnic for Paul's work that will calls for some homemade dish, a picnic at church for our pastor's retirement, to which I'm bringing a salad, and having some people over on Sunday night to enojy the fruits of our domesticity. But the rest of the time we'll be going to work and coming home, to do projects, or like Buffy, sit and watch the summer roll by.

Summertime

View looking at the apex of our roof. No color enhancement necessary, but soonish, a tree pruner.


Planting projects.


Our sun says good night through our plum trees.


Beachy Paul (Kiaweh Island, SC)

Earthy Shannon - even with the Jersey hair and earrings (Marchese backyard, CO) Yes, we have lawn issues. It is the high desert.


Pretty pot.


Our roses.

Anniversary cupcakes (Thanks, Mom!)

Happiness, year one

We were with some author friends this weekend and one took this picture of us... dubbing it "anniversary picture" because tomorrow we'll finish off our first married year.

I can't predict what's ahead but if any of the rest of them are half as good, it'll be just another confirmation of how blessed we are. Because of work schedule, we are celebrating in an oh-so-appropriate bookend style, with mountain time in Estes Park, CO [pic taken outside of Smokin' Dave's excellent BBQ joint] and ocean time this weekend. We head down to Charleston, SC on Saturday, for a couple of days of beach and friends and seafood.

Since last May 19th, we married, adopted our dog, bought a house, hosted Mom Marchese twice, Thurman and Kim and Jenny and Eric visited, we traveled to Las Vegas, Orlando {SM only}, Baltimore, Atlantic City, Philadelphia, Richmonds in Ohio and Indiana, Columbus, Santa Fe, Alburqurque, the Grand Canyon, San Francisco, Browning, Montana, and around Colorado, we both turned 36, we both experienced the rocking-and-rolling of our companies by the recession. We read a lot of books, watched too much TV, cooked loads of food, most good - some not, expanded our midsections, so we exercised. We cut grass, raked leaves, shoveled snow, hired a plumber, killed ants, walked the dog, did laundry, cleaned house, had the soil tested. We volunteered at the Humane Society, helped a out bit with youth at the church, used a nail gun with Habitat for Humanity, sponsored Lucy through World Vision, we could have done more. We worshipped at Chapel of Our Saviour, partook of the elements, attended Lessons and Carols and Ash Wednesday and Stations of the Cross, chatted during coffee hour, and we are mourning our minister's retirement in July. We missed our family and friends deeply.

And we've fought and cried some, asked for forgiveness and forgiven lots, laughed even more, talked for ages. Hopefully, we have done as the Book of Common Prayer expresses, and made our lives together a sign of Christ's love to this sinful and broken world, that unity may overcome estrangement, forgiveness heal guilt, and joy conquer despair.

If not, then we know we have something planned for this year.