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Gooseberries and Nesting

I’m 37 weeks pregnant.  Needless to say, there are heavy matters on my mind.  I have a ton ‘o things to do and I’ve taken nesting to an unsafe level. 

<Pause>  Let me interrupt to brag on my husband and father who, under the influence of a melting-down, estrogen-crazed pregnant woman, have performed mighty feats of remodeling magic in my house.  They really didn’t have a chance when faced with a crying belly bump girl.  Thanks o men of my dreams!!  <Continue>

So, since my to-do list is long and weighty, I thought I would blog about small celebratory things. 

First, summer fruit:

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Ok, I know.  Rhubarb isn’t a fruit.  But I celebrate it all the same.

Second, my salt cellar:

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I don’t know why my salt cellar (and the tiny olive wood spoon) brings such contentment.  The small things, I suppose.  A bamboo box for the sea salt and the kosher salt.  What a thing of beauty.

The to-do list will be there tomorrow.  The extreme nesting will continue to compel me to do things like clean the hot water heater with a toothbrush.  Tonight I cling to my red currants and salt cellar.  But the end is in sight.   My queen-of-organization sister will come to my rescue.  She will.