22 February 2010

matryoshka baby

This whole having a baby thing. Strange things happen.
I've been eating central European food, it's all schnitzels mitt kartofel, and I have a cabbage obsession. Is my unborn child a Kraut? Not that that's a bad thing. Sure, half my elderly Russian and Ukrainian friends in Australia were Ostarbeiters - kidnapped by Germans to be worked to death in labour camps. (They don't hold grudges because that's just not right). I know that somewhere there is Finnish blood in my ancestry, the only hint of Germanic we've got I think.

Apart from the food preferences, I'm getting (justifiably) a wee bit clucky. It's freakin crazy, there's another body inside mine, getting built all new and it's a bit of me and a bit of the man I love and it's an enormous and frightening thing.  I've been selling stuff that I don't need, mainly ridiculously gorgeous impractical shoes.
I have a few Russian dolls that are in mint condition, hand-painted and all that jazz. Cannot part with them for the sake of the baby. So instead I bought Japanese fabric with matryoshki on it to compensate for even thinking about selling my dolls and  also because their little eskimo faces comfort me.

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