Thankful.

I know it's nowhere near November, but as we come up on the one year anniversary of this news , which was followed not too long after by this news and then this news , I can't help but get misty eyed when I think of all that's happened for us since last summer.

OK-- I think the average person would just be misty eyed. Given my raging pregnancy hormones and the ridiculously hot temperature today, for me it was more of an "I-need-to-pull-over-before-I-wreck-while-sobbing-this-deliriously-in-joy" situation, but you know. Gratitude-- it's overwhelming me.

Longtime readers-- the three, maybe four of you-- will know that massive portions of this blog have been spent pining, whining, wheelspinning, and otherwise ruminating about three major issues: Mr. Milkweed's job and the ability to put down some roots, the question of whether/if ever we'd be able to buy a house, and the "TTC" journey. (Granted, much of of my angst over the last item took place out of the blogosphere, but there were at least hints here and there.)

And now? Now, today, while driving through the searingly bright sunshine to an ice cream playdate with friends past a massive statue of Stonewall Jackson and the genteelly appointed homes on Boulevard, it hit me: We are in Virginia. Your husband is even now preparing for teaching a 19th Century American Lit class at a university where he has a real job. Your daughter is behind you singing a mash-up of "The Isty-Bitsy Spider" and "Yellow Submarine," and that's your sun kneeing you in the ribs.

It is, like the portion of sour cream proffered with tonight's leftover burritos, almost too much. And like the sour cream, I'll take it.