Whoever named it "morning" sickness should be kicked in the head. Or shot. Or dragged around the neighborhood behind a go-cart while pregnant women pelt him with bags of sliced bread and call him names.

I mean, really, what kind of false advertising is it to say that you only get sick in the morning when you're pregnant? It is now 7:30 PM and I feel like puking.

No writing lately, of course, which is a pain because I have people in my head and they're talking to me, but I am too nauseous and tired to do more than survive at this point. Yesterday was Andy's last day at work, but he spent most of today running errands and pressure washing the patio and some of the moveable playground equipment, so that left me to watch the neighborhood. Fortunately it was another gorgeous spring day. The pear trees burst into bloom overnight, and now there are buds on the tulips. Our star magnolias are in bloom, too, and they smell wonderful.

In 5 days we are going to drive north and back into winter. I'm not very excited about that. But at least somebody will make my bed for me while I'm in a hotel, and I won't have to feel guilty about not cooking.

At some point we may even resume studies. But I just can't see cooping the kids up inside when it's so gorgeous outside, especially since it won't be this warm in New York for another month (or so I have been told.) And there's still so much to do. Anyway, the kids never do nothing, and Garrett even read an Amelia Bedelia book today on his own. Although he actually reads on a higher level than Amelia Bedelia, it is a big deal for him to read something on his own (and I have no idea why, since Borders is his favorite place and he can never get into the car without at least three books -- heavily illustrated), so I was happy.

Tomorrow it is supposed to rain, and I will really need to download all my files onto some form of storage that I can take with me. Because I am not trusting a moving company with any of my novels.