as i read more about the London bombings and the shooting of an innocent man on Friday, i get more and more worried about our world.

giving the benefit of the doubt here, the shooting seemed to be motivated by intense fear and suspicion — on a warm summer day a man in a heavy jacket that could conceal a bomb, running away from plainclothes cops, and the chance that he could detonate the bomb even though he was face down on the ground — and that is the most tragic part of it all.

now that we are at the point here in NYC where we live with fear and suspicion and a “heightened sense of alertness” every day, is there any way back? is it ridiculous to want to live the way we did before 9/11 when we worried only about “bad neighborhoods?”

were we just a nation-child, naive and oblivious to the dangers in the world all this time? are we now grown up, as a nation in the world, and finally facing the reality that people in so many other nations have lived with for generations?

is there no going back? is this it?

i do have a child on the way. in fact, due about the anniversary of 9/11. i am so looking forward to this baby, and want him or her to laugh freely, live openly and seek comfort and love from as many people as he or she meets. but i already know that i’ll be worry-wort — it’s in my nature — and might become overprotective.

we’re all finding our way around a new world these days. as a soon-to-be mother, i’ll be finding my way around it with a sense of responsibility for a vulnerable, new little life. one that needs to be nurtured and supported, but also toughened and street-smart.

it’s a heavy responsibility.

i just realized that my pensiveness today is about something more. today i also talked with a mom whose 20-year-old son is going to begin his second tour of duty in iraq sometime in september. she is remarkably composed about it, and although ambivalent about the war in iraq she said that she believes that all things happen for a reason. my thoughts will be with her, her entire family and her son — who is luke’s cousin. Be safe, Timmy.

overnight, i became huge.

my thoughts for some reason turn to kafka and the metamorphosis. if i, in my current state of pregnant hugeness, were to have the misfortune to find myself on the floor on my back, i’d be unable to do anything but flail my arms and legs like a giant cockroach. at this point i don’t even think i can bend at the waist.

pregnancy has gradually made me more grateful for assistance from other people, especially luke, and more likely to accept aid. this is an adjustment, as i like to do everything myself and be totally independent. but now i appreciate when luke carries my bag or when people give up their seats for me. i ESPECIALLY appreciate when people pick things up that i have dropped, because bending down is really really difficult right now!

i have always loved the beach, despite the fact that i hate being in the hot sun! as you can imagine, my taking up the sport of beach volleyball has some drawbacks, and i usually hide under an umbrella or the boardwalk whenever i don’t have to be on a court.

but having a beach house is the perfect way for me to enjoy the beach. just a few steps from house to ocean, i can pick and choose my times for optimum enjoyment. Like, if i were to uncharacteristically be up early in the morning, i could go to the beach from say, 8 or 9 in the morning until 10ish when it starts to get hot and bright. and then return later, at 3 or so to catch the sun when it’s still bright but has lost a lot of its intensity.

lately, though, i’ve found an entirely new reason to love the beach. i make a little pit in the sand about a foot in diameter, lay my towel over it, and lie down on my stomach! my swollen pregnant belly nestled in the little pit i made! it’s ingenious and so comfortable — at least for a good half hour.

it’s been a long time since i’ve been able to lie on my stomach, and i have really missed it. so today and yesterday lying on my stomach on fire island was so heavenly.

lately my belly has grown enormously and there’s no denying the fact that i’m very pregnant. i don’t know if it’s women being polite, but all the women in my office, and several of my friends, say that i’m looking small for seven months (i’ll be seven months by the end of this week).

for some reason, i am taking this as a compliment, that small is good, and just making sure that i’m gaining weight at the rate i should be — which is actually a pound a week, which i’m managing to do just fine.

today, my mom came into the city to drop off some maternity clothes that she couldn’t help but buy when she saw them on sale at A Pea in the Pod. She also brought a five-gallon jar of homemade pickles, or what koreans call summer cucumber kimchee, which you eat with a spoon, the briny pickle juice and all. kind of hilarious for her to haul in from long island bearing maternity clothes and pickles!

anyway, i asked her if she thought i looked on the small side and she said, No! that i looked huge to her — and when she was carrying me she didn’t need maternity clothes until she was six months pregnant and was still barely showing at seven months. she said i was as large as she was when she was ready to deliver!

so, i guess my size is relative to whomever is talking. all is know is the midwife says i’m the right dimension and weight for this stage in the pregnancy so not to worry. so i won’t.