8000 miles into the many folds of my imagination

I made this deal with myself that our baby could get born once I hit 8,000 miles on my bicycle. Well yesterday that happened, so k's vaginal gate is now allowed to loosen up and let it fly.

In all actuality, we have no idea when this will happen, but the aforementioned deal with myself is an example indicative of my strange thinking habits. I tend to have a grandiose imagination and the absurd ability to develop worst case scenarios in my mind.

For instance, part of our conversation with our midwife on Wednesday morning, Me: "So...S what is your back up plan in case you are experiencing violent vomiting and diarrhea when k hits active/active labor?"

Of course she has a solid back up plan so I have no worries, but I will envision all the crazy ass things that could go wrong (or right) about 1000 times before our bundle of joy comes rolling out of kk's nether region. It is just how I am.

some new age folks might think that this is negative thinking that will impact the way things turn out for us, and I sometimes end up thinking that the negative thinking will indeed make things roll out negatively, but then I think that that is simply part of my neurotic imaginative tendencies, and I get over myself and the self-implied power present in all of the power of thinking BS that circulates the new age airwaves like an overactive muscle spasm.

This is not to say that I think that what we think does not impact our overall demeanor and state of comfort or lack there of. I know how to work myself up over the things I imagine in my head and then I know how to talk myself out of the panic i drive myself to.

But I do not believe that if I imagine horrific things (which I do all of the time) then I will bring those things upon myself or my loved ones. If I did believe all that super-human nonsense, then I would have to be placed in a very cushy room to stop the tragedies that cross my mind from befalling the universe. I am not a supernatural superhero or antihero; I am simply a getting closer to middle age over-imaginator.

And please understand that the shit that flutters through my mind is not all death and destruction or vile images of fluids exploding out of both human ends; I also think lovely thoughts. There are even times when I think nothing at all and simply ride in a state of marvel through the changing colors with a dark liquid snake of a river rushing next to me. While eight species of birds dart and swoop and flutter all around the fecund, layered decay beneath sumac and dried mullein and evening primrose and touch-me-not that has fallen to brown remnants for winter. And I laugh at the lone blue jay standing amidst the Canada geese calling out screeches of derision to the ever-growing colder autumn morning and my mind settles softly to the place where there is no thing but the calls of earth catching me breathless in anticipation for the most amazing coming experience of our lives...

a bath and her lovely belly with a bounty that is beyond, beyond

Trying times are met with brilliant moments.

We have been through death and sorrow (my gram went on, my too young uncle, also) in the last month. Work is full and good. Preparation for our dear one is in full swing as K is 35 weeks into this mystery. We are gathering supplies, writing down notes for our desires, and moving toward giving birth at home.

These walls have held the years of others' living like dark stories caught in sunlight. These walls are thick with horse hair plaster and layers of paint and old wall paper glue. These walls are witness to the stretched vocal chord sound of song, fury, love, heartache, winter frost, summer dew, the scent of sex, the idleness of waiting, the quiet of stillness, the hectic murmur of insomnia, the bewildered moments before knowing, the aches, the pitter patter of small animals and children (animals too), the last breaths of loved ones. So much has happened in these rooms in the last 107 years; so much we do not know; so much we do know.

And soon we will be adding to the memories of these walls and the ceilings and the floors. Soon, K will be wailing the cries of child birth; notes that have long vowels and crazy consonants carrying out the ends of her mouth. Soon, she will walk over worn wood in rhythms we are yet to understand. Soon, this thing we know so little about and have tried to learn too much about, will devour us with its mystery and we will make invisible etchings of experience all around us.

On Saturday, we took ourselves out for a fancy date (the last one till our world is turned upside down by the introduction of this new being into our lives). Beforehand, K bathed in our old, deep clawfoot tub. Dusk was on the fringe; gray cascaded through the windows in autumn clad slices, and I took pictures of this graceful beauty unfolding within and throughout this woman i love with every ounce of all of me. Below are a few:

belly ball in bath

angel

amazing

shimmer in the tub

gorgeous beyond, beyond