A Monument to Man's Arrogance

Mother's Day weekend is when the San Antonio heat returned to meltcha face off.

Luke returned home very late, four in the morning late, from a gig Friday night so C and I had a morning of errands planned. We hit up the Y, the Pearl farmer's market, and dropped off some clothes and shoes at a consignment shop - a trip I've been meaning to make for ages. [Closet purge in progress, I hope to share the result someday.] While waiting for them to select the keepers, I wandered around the store holding C and was suddenly so tired.  Not in a worrisome, I'm going-to-collapse way, but a 31 weeks pregnant-and-it's-hot-outside-and-I-have-a-dilutional-anemia kind of way. When people ask about the due date and I reply July and they say -- ooh, it's gonna be hot -- well, that prophecy and its associations of sweaty lumbering discomfort suddenly came true in Too Good To Be Threw. I packed up the Goodwill-bound nonkeepers and C and drove home, handed off C to Luke, and took a nap, something I never do.

Restored, a couple of hours later C and I headed to grocery store and after 30 minutes the car was about 120 degrees and as I buckled her into the car seat my spirit was completely broken. So.hot. A day or two later someone posted this on Instagram and I thought, THIS IS SAN ANTONIO! A latitude unfit for human habitation.

via

Now begins the season, which spans 2.5 seasons, of having to accomplish every outdoor activity by 10 am. The SATX winter is a marvelous thing but oh how we pay for it. On Mother's Day we went to the park and had brunch at Central Market and repaired home to simply be in air conditioning. That evening I made scallops and risotto, each for the first time (verdict: too expensive and too much hands-on time, respectively).

Sorry for the grouse-fest but I feel so resentful AT THE SUN for chasing me into the house most of the day. Trundling around now is getting uncomfortable, I've transitioned from the glow of the second trimester into the grim determination of the third, and I'm making mental lists of all the things I wish I could do:

Ride my bike
Lie prone
Eat salami and raw milk cheeses
Play tennis
Sit at my desk comfortably

Much like my ambitious closet purge plans - formulated with feverish detail at my desk at work, never executed at home - I'm thinking of all the athletic pursuits I will undertake when delivered of this child - Spinning! Barre! TRX class! Hold me to these things come September, readers, once of the fog of birth has lifted and the lady parts have cooled off a bit [a separate post will likely be dedicated to the deep deep dread I have of those postpartum weeks.] I suspect my elaborate Y class plans (hmm, I'll go to Spinning at 6 am on Wednesdays and Thursdays, bodyflow on Monday) are sublimated TEMPORARY RUNNING AWAY FROM HOME PLANS, driven by a fear of being homebound, as anxiety about having two kids bubbles to the surface. I googled the availability of home grocery delivery yesterday. I am worried that I will never leave the house again - and I've really come to enjoy taking Clem out and about.

Advice and encouragement welcomed! I'm kind of freaking out.

Some pics from the weekend...

this is the greenest grass in all of San Antonio

She's too fast - most of my pics are with her back turned...

...plus a dusting of wood chips

I didn't know Luke took this picture. This is after the 45 minute risotto stirring, shortly before the 5 minute scallop-searing, and the 3 minutes it took to eat this dinner.

Dear Mom - this All-Clad pan is about the best gift you've ever given me.