In the final weeks of her pregnancy, my sister Libby inexplicably took to wearing an enormous tiedyed shirt that magnified her belly with a nauseating swirl of pink and green that seemed to depict a pair of lovesick whales. When she waddled into my kitchen at Blackbird Farm one crisp afternoon in October, I said, “Paint a peace sign on your stomach, and you’d pass for the Partridge family bus.” “How about if I just give you half a peace sign?” she asked, plunking a plastic bag from The Home Depot on my kitchen counter and making a beeline for the pantry. She returned with the box of assorted Godivas I’d been saving for a crisis. “When we’re pregnant, the Blackbird women all get as big as Guernseycows. Is there any danger of that, by the way? Does the gangster have you hanging on to the headboard for dear life yet?”. [download]
Format : Ebook.Pdf
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