First, I must take a moment to brag on my husband. You know you’ve married right when your husband comes home from a long day at work and, after scrubbing out the shower for you (have you ever tried being 9 months pregnant and scrubbing out a shower?), also volunteers to mop the kitchen and bathroom floors—a task which, incidentally, you rank right up there with throwing up. Yes, folks, I got a good one for sure.

Speaking of throwing up, it appears that spring has gone back into hibernation this week, at least here in North Dakota. (Yes, I know that spring and vomiting aren’t in the least bit connected, but I needed a transition, and there were none readily available, so you can jolly well take what you get, okay?) Temperatures have plunged to the low thirties, and it has been snowing steadily since sometime in the night. I don’t mind though, because the temperature in our apartment is nearing the outer limits of what the human body can safely suffer. My husband would disagree with me on this, and he doesn’t like having all the snow blowing in through our open windows, but really, I’ve been rather warm the last few weeks. Carrying around a built-in heater doesn’t help things any, either.

Hankie (who hasn’t said whether he’s glad for the colder weather or not) has learned something new—quite accidentally, too. We’ve only been partially successful in potty-training him, you see, so we can get him to “go" on command, but, unfortunately, he also “goes" off command, too. For the past few days, whenever he “goes" on us, he’s started saying, “Eeeeewwwwwww!" I think he likes the sound of it because he also says it when we’re brushing our teeth. Or maybe the sight of foaming Crest dripping from our chins makes him want to throw up. Who knows?