Yesterday was my first day back at work after our summer break. It was mostly a day of catching up with colleagues new and old, and meetings. There was the fleeting pleasure of a brief trip to look at a field site, that involved about a quarter-mile walk, but the rest of the day was spent indoors and talking to people.
This is of course a major change of scenery after a long summer of being outdoors, farming, building and fixing cars and equipment, a time in which the main person I spoke to was Aimee. We won't count talking to the sheep or dogs, both of which I do most days.
I'm not bad enough yet to talk to my plants, although I imagine I will get there one day.
It was a surprising pleasure to talk to people. It always is. But I notice that it is very tiring to do it all day long. You get used to it, of course, and so by this time next week it won't be nearly as tiring. But in general, I can pull weeds or saw wood all day long and not be as worn out mentally as I get from this kind of professional conversation.
Aimee is now in her last week of pregnancy before the due date, which is next Sunday (24th August). She has entered a fairly stable daily pattern of eating, sleeping, taking little walks with the dogs, and -- for recreation and since she no longer likes to shop or travel -- she has decided to cook. A lot. She's making us a lot of food.
This last is surprising. I do most of the cooking around here. But Aimee is a good cook, probably a better cook than me much of the time. In the last day or two we've had enchiladas, pie, bread, whoopie pies (a Maine favorite and the Official State Treat), and she's also made a big batch of kraut.
She gets up late, maybe 8 or 9 am, gets online, checks her email and FaceBook, and then cooks. She cooks a little, then naps a little, then cooks a little. She may do a little light house cleaning too.
So this is a pretty easy way for a husband to get through the last week of a wife's pregnancy. I know how lucky I am. I've heard all the horror stories, all the stuff about how antsy women get when their time comes, how they can drive their husbands crazy.
Me, it isn't fair, I know, but I'm hoping for cheesecake.