Ok, what I wanted to blog about was Ava's cross country carnival today, but y'all, it's midnight and I gots to go to bed. So I'll save that for tomorrow. Suffice it to say that there is no minimum age for angst.
What I'll do instead is draw your attention to this: "Peeved Berlusconi Wants His Wife to Apologize". Have you seen this news item about the Italian Prime Minister and his wife? Apparently, the Mrs. gave interviews to major newspapers expressing her upset over her husband's philandering ways. Among other things, she noted that he attended a birthday party of a friend's 18 year old daughter, saying she was surprised, since he'd never managed to attend his own children's 18th birthday parties. Ouch! Well, Berlusconi has responded in kind, demanding, through the papers, an apology from his wife. The article says they live separately, which might be a good thing--otherwise imagine the conversation at the breakfast table this morning.
You gotta love the Italians! So dramatic! So over the top! And this isn't a soccer star and his wife, or a pop singer--it's the prime minister, you guys. A serious political dude. I'm not trying to belittle someone's personal crisis, but to have it played out so boldly and publicly! Wow. Truth is stranger than fiction. Whatever relational issues you may be facing, at least they aren't taking up column inches in the New York Times. Unless you're John Edwards. But anyway.
And in other news...at 36 weeks preggo, I am officially as big as a house.
Seriously. I could be wrong, but I believe that's the correct medical terminology. Diagnosis involves determining the amount of times in a week that people mistake you for the side of a barn. Ava asked me why I didn't preach on Sunday. In a knowing tone, she said, "Was it because you don't want everyone to see your fat tummy?" Like, it's okay, Mom, we all know the truth. But don't you worry--I still got it goin' on! Have a great day!