27 weeks. Quite belatedly so.

I know I say it every week, but, once again, I wasn't thrilled with the snaps from this week. Particularly as I worked a full, busy day on Saturday and thought I looked darn good throughout, only to come home and have the self-esteem somewhat deflated.

Perhaps the least heinous, despite the red eye and rather blank expression:

Though I have a weak spot for this one, as it shows me living on the edge (i.e., perching precariously on a piece of two-feet-high furniture while wearing heeled boots, in front of a large glass window, and pregnant):

(And in defense of the belly button, it isn't popping out [yet]--that's just the sweater bunching up, I swear.)

This is about as fearless as I get lately (or ever). And now I can't even stand on furnishings in front of big windows (and neither can the poor baby kitties), as we put up the Christmas tree this weekend; though it's not quite finished in this one, the digital camera's had a mostly-dead battery since Saturday, and no one has bothered to charge it. So this is all we've got so far: