So, in the dirth of posting in the last several months, we've managed to:
Buy a car. And of course, we went for the one that has the most important spec: maximum potential for ridicule from Jace. Every time he sees it, he sings out the South Park refrain: "I'm gaaaaaaay." But so far we are loving our little Prius—especially Spencer. He loves all that data. Data, data, data. And I love that I just drove to Sacramento and back for well under $100 in gas. We've already put almost 20,000 miles on, and Spence already incurred damage to the body, which officially breaks in a new car; he hit "some kind of low-flying, turkey-sized bird" on I-15, putting a crack in the front bumper. Watch out for those turkeys.
Buy a house. And not one from this century! Or from last century! No, our little home was built in 1899! A pioneer gem in none other than American Fork. We love it—except for the lack of a garage. Apparently cars hadn't been invented when our house was constructed. The entire inside was completely redone a few years ago. What can I say, we are suckers for old houses. AND Walter Payton lives next door.
Get pregnant. And it's a girl! Due in September. . . . Frankly, this may very well ruin our fall Hawaii plans—but here we are, and we are excited. I should clarify: Spencer is ecstatic. I mostly feel ill-prepared, exhausted, and pukey. And tired of sticking myself with needles. I have to take two shots a day, book ending my evening slumber—what has become the best part of every day—with injections of blood thinners. Because of the blood thinners, an epidural may not be an option—possible risk of paralysis and all. Sunday is the halfway mark. Only 20 more weeks, then the real fun begins, right? We're having a grandparent showdown on what her name should be: Tana says Kenna, after her mom; Grandpa Jack says Goldie, after his mom. Will it be Kenna, Goldie, or other? Stay tuned . . .
