Rest

Sadly, my entries have dwindled, since my recent scare. I would love to indulge in the daily of my pregnancy dallies, but my bed keep dictates my thoughts. I am held hostage to the television. Have you had the luxury to enjoy morning television? It's chockful of nonsense. Thank god for cable and DVD(s). Perhaps, I could retire to a good novel, but my attention span is the size of a germ. Writing has always been my safe outlet and without writing means well failure. Fray.

Here I lay in the comfort of my bed looking out of my bedroom deck into an exquisite day as Chloe begs to spend the day with me. She proceeds towards the bedroom deck where she lays on her stomach and spreads out on all four sets of paws like a fuzzy white rug. There she is my sweet Bichon. Will she love Kitchstar when it arrives? Will they be best friends? Will she care for the baby? I am filled with uncertainty as Chloe requires an ample amount of attention from Shane and me. She’s good with children, but will she be just as sweet with our own?

I should take Chloe to Fort Funston for a nice walk, but my condition refutes my desire. I went from yoga, pilates, and an hour at the gym to resigning to bed rest. I always found the need to exert all this restless energy, but I’m sure I could exert it elsewhere in my life. Maybe that’s the problem with us Americans, we are stuck in the gridlock of the hurly burly of life. Maybe it’s not Americans, maybe it’s just me. It’s all for the best as one could never get too much rest. Right?

This is Shellie from the billowing eight hundred thread count sheets bidding you to enjoy the beautiful sunny day.