I had a dream last night that I bought a used car, and it had snakes in it. That’s right, snakes in a car. Snakes in a Car!
***So the Big Kids ™ are here, so the Baby (patent pending) sleeps in our room in the Pack-n-Play (actual tm). Which would be fine except that she can climb out of her Pack-n-damn Play. So before, when she slept in her own room in the big crib and would wake at some ungodly hour, she would just hit the fishies and play til she fell asleep again. Now, and for the next 2 weeks, she wakes promptly at 5:30 AM, realizes that I am mere feet away, and scrambles over the edge, onto the foot of our bed, and climbs up the length of my body. Then I get the drooly face in my face: “HI!”
Oy.
***I put the baby down for a nap today, and she looked up at me and said, “bee bikk?” (Everything she says is a question, meaning she is already, like, thirteen, right?) Anyway, I ran downstairs to get the binky, and when I came back to give it to her, she way lying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, reading 
Goodnight Moon out loud to herself. So. Fucking. Cute.
***Today was cooler. For the past few days, standing at my kitchen window was like standing in front of an open oven door. We did not go out much.
I would post more, but my keyboard has melted into a sticky goo, and I have semi soft plastic welded to my fingers. In other words, it’s hot.
Also, I have been fighting a war with the M.F.’ing spammers, who will have a special place in hell, where they are not tortured but instead irritated to the point of insanity. There have been swarms of trackback spam on both the sites I maintain, which is horribly annoying and just time consuming enough. I wish the jihadists would focus their irrational ire on the real problems, such as identity thieves and spammers. Then no one would care, and they could blow up buildings all they wanted.
Haha, I leave you with that cavalier disregard for human life, and return to the complicated process of unsticking myself from every surface I touch.
Holy crap this is cool. Steve is and always has been cooler than Joe. And if you know what I am talking about without clicking the link, oh sigh, your life is as bizarre as my own.
She is seriously the cutest baby ever.
Why do we want to eat our babies? Do we pine for the days when they grew inside of us? I don’t plan on actually eating the baby, but if I did, I imagine it would be a similar experience. First I would feel nauseated and throw up a lot, and eventually I would become sleepless and have lots of indigestion.
Scene:
2 boys and a girl, 13 if they’re a day, are doing their damn’dest to pimp walk their way through the mean streets of Chicago a pleasant walkway between an outdoor cafe and an ice cream shop. Finding the scenery a little less ghetto than befits such a crew, they continue on to a graffiti strewn abandoned warehouse the local Community Center, which is deserted, and dozens of feet from the families and students at the cafe. If you turn the right way, you can barely see them. Once settled in the most ghetto place they can find, the girl proceeds to rail at the boys, Jerry Springer-like. One of the boys, for reasons of his own, crouches down while looking up at her with an odd mixture of defiance and pleading.
The girl is clearly having a fabulous time and is imagining herself on the Real World/Road Rules, crazy camera angles and all. She is to be cast as the bitch, of course, whom everyone respects and admires.
Vikki and I decide to infuse this little tableau with a dose of real reality by walking by slowly, pulling our sweet little blondie moppets adorably eating ice cream in their little red wagon. Just a little reminder to the kids that they in a liberal little college town surrounded by farmland and not, in fact, on the OC.
To the kid’s credit, Crouching Boy admonishes the girl to keep it down, “cuz there’s little kids”. And to her credit, she apologizes to us.
As soon as we are past, she lights into the boys again, but I think some of the steam has left the fantasy (fantasies have steam?) because of the automatic demonstration of their decent upbringing. Keep it real, kids, just keep it real.
Okay, everybody (in which everybody=2 people) has been berating me because I haven’t been blogging. Oh yeah? Well, here’s why:
For example, about 20 minutes ago I said to myself, “Self, I am hungry. What shall we eat?” And I answered myself – for I am very quantum that way, both singular and plural simultaneously-
“Hey! Let’s eat the last 15 frozen french fries- tasty AND alliterative!”
So I pop the 15 frozen french fries in the brand new super convection toaster oven, and walk out of the kitchen. Then I think, “Hey, I should set the timer.”
“No, you don’t need to set the timer. It’s 10pm now, just go get them at 10:15. You’re not an idiot.”
“Yes, but I tend to forget things like that, and I am really looking forward to those fries. I don’t want them to burn.”
“Well, okay, if you feel it’s necessary, but I think you’re wasting precious seconds of your life…”
15 minutes later the timer goes off and we hear this exchange in my head:
“What the..?”
“Did I leave the oven on from dinner?” (ed. note: dinner was 4 hours ago)
“Shit, no wonder it’s so hot in here, the oven’s been on!”
“Am I making something?”
“What in hell am I making in the oven??? It’s 110 degrees tonight, why would I make something in the oven? And, I need to go to bed soon! Christ! What was I thinking…”
It was only until I got into the kitchen did I remember that I was heating french fries in the toaster oven. A process which was started Fifteen Minutes Before.
So that, my friends, is the sad sad state of affairs in my brain. It would be good to be able to write them all down, but most of my free time is spent…well, I don’t know, really because I don’t seem to have any. I could probably make better use of the time after the baby has gone to bed, but instead I frantically clean the house so I can collapse onto the couch to watch my next husband, Mr. Jon Stewart, on the tee vee.
And that is something I never forget.
Good Reads
