Where I've Been (And What I've Been Dreaming)

We arrived home last night around ten after being in Michigan over the weekend for Jim's grandpa's funeral. Addy was very pleasant and cooperative, considering, but she doesn't sleep that well away from home, and she loathes her carseat, so it was a long couple of days. Needless to say, it was a good feeling to pull in our driveway. But it was also a good feeling to be there with Jim's family and to visit with relatives from out of state.
One of my friends commented once that funerals are the only time when family lingers, reluctant to part. The holidays are usually rushed and full of gifts and food and agendas, but when everyone is gathered together to mourn a loss, no one wants to be the first to leave. I found that to be very true these past couple of days. I was glad we were able to make it, despite my feeling crappy and the fact of having a toddler with us and all that.
Crappy I did feel, though, that's for sure. Our hosts, who were kind and gracious friends of Jim's parents (and who happened to have a breathtaking lakefront home,) unfortunately brewed coffee night and day, or at least so it seemed. I spent much of the time huddled away in our room with the door shut, trying to block out the very idea of coffee. Plus, you know, when you're in someone else's home you can't just walk around eating crackers out of the box the way you would at home. Nor can you inexplicably demand a snack an hour after dinner because you're feeling sick again. I felt like a drug addict, trying to inconspicuously sneak crackers without anyone really noticing. "Who, me? Eating again, you say? No, I'm not. Pay no attention to this rapidly emptying sleeve of Ritz."
Also, another side effect of pregnancy has begun kicking in for me, one which I believe is probably as common as morning sickness but perhaps not as widely acknowledged: racy dreams. What is it about being pregnant that causes your waking self to be so decidedly unsexy, yet as soon as you fall asleep you are behaving like a wanton whore? A mystery to me, a frustrating mystery. Hormones are just running amok in my body, apparently, playing all sorts of cruel jokes on me.
Anyone care to contribute their pregnant dreamscapes here? I will say this of my own: Sean Connery was prominently featured, from whence I have no clue. In actual fact I think the man is something of a chauvinist pig, but apparently that's just the sort of guy my unconscious self is profoundly drawn to.