But often, in the world's most crowded streets,
But often, in the din of strife,
There rises an unspeakable desire
After the knowledge of our buried life;
~Matthew Arnold, The Buried Life
I know this will come as a surprise to most of you (particularly given my perpetual smiling and uncomplaining nature), but this pregnancy has actually been quite uncomfortable for me. The first two months I suffered through warm-up nausea by distracting myself with mountain bike rides, epic hikes in the Tetons, wave-running, and, well... having a life.
Then I was hit with the real-deal barfs, and found myself becoming a nearly permanent blob-like tumor extending from the corner of my couch. I stopped biking and hiking and existed in a borderline-catatonic state. Seriously.
Seven months later, I decided it was time to stop being a blob. So Tim took me to New Hampshire for Valentine's day weekend.
We went snowshoeing in Franconia National Park, had dinner at the Common Man (delicious!), and stayed in a really fancy... ummm... motel (everything was booked) in Franconia. I breathed fresh air, and loved every second.
Tim had a problem taking photos of me, because my automatic camera kept focusing the little box on my belly. Not funny.
We visited the Basin, which was just as cool frozen (above) as it is in the summer (below). 
We also visited the Flume, where lunatics were climbing up walls of ice:
