I'm the Bad Man.

Okay. So. Heart rate still a little elevated. Breathe.

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Suki just scratched Amoryn.

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To give you some context, it wasn't like the evil Siamese in "Lady & The Tramp"; it was because he was trying to jump onto me as I was carrying her upstairs to put her down for her morning nap. But still! He knows that it's Not Okay To Jump On Me When I Have The Baby. Or at least I thought his little brain had made that connection, since it has been etablished since prior to Am's birth.

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(Suki's pointy little feet landing *bwonk* on my belly in the last trimester? Not So Cool, Dude.)

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Apparently the lack of affection has finally driven him to desperate measures. So, after following me from the basement to the main floor to the upstairs stairwell, he decided to ignore my vague promises of "Later, Buddy", and take matters into his own paws.

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Unfortunately, Amoryn's head was in the way of his plan. Now, it's not a deep & bloody scratch; it's one of those scratches that leaves a raised welt, but no permanent mar, or even broken skin. But it's long, and runs from under her eye to her ear, and it! woke! her! up!!!! In a bad way! And then I had to Bactine it! And that woke her again & made her cry! And it was all very bad!

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Including the part where I dumped Suki unceremoniously down, & then smacked him once I reached the top of the stairs, after looking at Am's little scratch. And it wasn't a 'measured punishment' smack; it was more of a 'wrath of mamma' smite. I smote my cat.

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So. I am the bad man, in that I hit my cat, when all he wanted was some love. (He's so full of love! Has lots of love to give! Will love anyone! Everyone! I'd say he's a kitty whore, but really, he gives it away for free.) However, he acted wrongly (something about that looks weird, but meh, english majors, you email me & tell me why), and this is the thrid strike for ....

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...DUN, DUN-DUN DUN...

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...having him declawed. Which is yes, I know, really cutting off the first joint of his toes. The other strikes? Scratching at the furniture. Gratuitously. And scratching the bejeebers out of thighs, when he should be a lap cat & then realizes, no, he's a highly strung ninja-cat, & must per-toing! spring away to fight the evil powers of the neighbour's weed whipper, or something.

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And having the cats declawed (they're going to toe my line! hahaha!) is bad, I know, but the other options for the other two were:

1)trying to recover a $6K couch set with the hide of one Siamese-Manx cross

2)euthanasia for furniture, paper product protection

3)a nice drive out to the countryside. In a Soprano's kind of way.

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But I feel much worse about it with Suki, because I know his motives are pure, it's just that his little brain isn't that big, and really, he's my little buddy. He was my pal in Bowness, & kept me from being so lonely. (Before I got Suki, I would spend an extra hour or two in the drugstore on the way home, just to avoid the empty apartment. I would do that almost every night.)

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So it seems like a real betrayal to have his toes taken away, especially as he's such an athletic cat. But! *insert mamma glower* He scratched my baby! And really, with no front claws, we would be more willing to entertain Dr. Scratchyl/Mr. Purr in our laps, so he would have less of a love deficit.

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I'll see what the man says when he gets home. I'm going to go & shower & then sew in the basement & wait for the cable guy.

Rats? That's new.

If you know me, you may know that I occasionally lapse into fits of sentimentality, bordering on or wallowing in tears. These are usually triggered by National Geographic stories about horses, or varying other types of schlock entertainment about horses.

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To date, the lowest form of entertainment has been the movie Alexander. I totally misted up when Al met Bucephalus. And I out & out bawled when ol' Bucky died. Thankfully, the man was asleep on the couch at the time; I didn't have to explain myself. And yes, I watched the whole movie. In my self-defense, I was sick with a cold & couldn't comfort myself with NyQil. And I was all pregnant-lady hormonal too.

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Last night, Pat was watching tv. It was some kind of "news around the world show". I wandered off when they started discussing how Indonesia has been rebuilt since the wave, and came back in time for the article on the giant African rats that are being trained to sniff out land mines. (Almost typed land-mimes. Now there's a funny segue... wouldn't need rats to find them, though.) It was pretty interesting - they're far more efficient than other methods, etc etc.

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And then it hit me. A wave of mush. Emotional mush.

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Do you think it was the images of the small African children playing happily, now that there are no landmines in their fields?

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No.
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It was the fact that, because the rats are nocturnal, the handlers put sunscreen on their ears. Their wee ratty ears would sunburn, so they put sunscreen on them! How noble, the rat, sniffing along, endangering his life & limbs to flag landmines, and they sunscreen his ears for him. Thinking about it, I should feel cynical, because really, wouldn't he be better off in a little UV resistant bomb suit? But no. Waves of tenderness & schmaltz.

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Yes, I know I'm bonkers. But look! These are special rats, African giant pouch rats, and they're sort of cute. Unlike the norwegian ugly rats, or the creepy white lab rats.

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Here's the Nat Geog news article (also featuring bees):

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2004/02/0210_040210_minerats.html

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Here's the organization:

http://www.apopo.org/newsite/content/index.htm

(Aww! Their ears!)

In Loving Color

I was drifting off to sleep the other night, mulling life. (This is how I accelerate the unwind/sleep process; I self-ponticate until I get so bored with myself that I drift off.) And I was trying to figure out the inane question "How My Life Has Changed". It's like "What I Did On My Summer Vacation", but not. At first, I approached the standard questions.
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"Do I Feel Different?" Yeeees. Although I feel pretty close, physically, to my old self, with much stronger arms.
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"Am I A Better Person?" Huh. Maybe? Maybe not? I didn't think I was that bad before. Now, I am mostly the same, with more occasional crazy* slipping out.

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*Eg: I got mad because the tin of tea fell off of the shelf in the pantry door & onto my head for like, the 16th time. So I picked it up, marched over to the door, & flung it into the backyard. Then I forgot about it. Until the fateful day when the man was out weeding. "I found this in the yard by the fence." I blushed & explained. "Why didn't you just move it to a different shelf after the first time?" "I never thought of it, that's why." Also, I am crazy around the edges.

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"Do You Have Any Regrets?" Der, of course; I regret not having bacon for breakfast, man. But, instead of dwelling on my bacon-less morning, I vow to have bacon, soon, & relish it thoroughly. I try to apply this to everything in my life. I also regret the horrible gurgling noise that just came out of Amoryn's diaper, & the smell that is even now wafting upwards. Think of bacon! Think of bacon!
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***brief break***
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"What Are You Most Thankful For?" Well, the wonderfully engineered poo-containing qualities of Huggies are close to the top of the list. The top two, though, are my big sweet baby, & my big sweet man. I'm also very glad and very very thankful that Amoryn is as sweet as she is & she's healthy as a rapidly growing miniature horse. That emotion becomes even stronger whenever I hear or read of others who aren't as lucky - this isn't schadenfreude, people; this is just recognition of how very lucky the man & I have been with our girl. If you need something to wake you up & make you realize just how much you have in life, I suggest reading the very courageous & heartbreaking blog of a mother of preemie twins, who loses one. Email me if you want the link - beautiful, heartwrenching.

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"What's The Worst Part?" Hm. The first thing I thought of is the dehydrating scent of tarragon, day three. But that's something I could inflinct on myself at any time, not particularily linked to motherhood. I think the worst part is trying not to be too hard on myself - I get tired, I get impatient, I cry... then I feel guilty for not being stronger, for not relishing every single minute I have with my girl, even if it is minute 1,432 of Howling Inconsolable Purple Faced Rage. Or I feel bad, because the man often bears the brunt of the crazy, and what happened to his regular wife? Who is this evil harridan?

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"What's The Most Irritating?" Endless reminders Not To Shake The Baby. I know, I know! The books, the magazines, the newsletters, the articles, the pamphlets... they all say not to. And I won't! And I tell my sitters not to! And I'm feeling guilty, just because I've recieved so much NTSTB literature, it must be something they think I could do! Ack!

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"What's The Best Thing?" Being a parent, duh; the answer is Amoryn! Amoryn! Amoryn! is the best! The next best part - watching the man be a dad. That rocks.

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Then my brain was all "Meh, enough, change the channel." And I was just drifting along, & I realized that it's like Amoryn has brought a new color into my life. My love & hopes & fears have changed how the world looks to me. It's all different now. Try to imagine a world where you hadn't noticed blue before. Then one day, whammo! There's blue everywhere! There's blue bowls, blue jeans, little blue flowers out in the yard. There's blue on the tv, in the quilt pattern, and blue in the shadows. And then there's the sky, man, my god, the sky. It's almost as mind blowing as my baby's blue eyes.

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That's "How My Life Has Changed".

Oh, all right,

I admit, every two weeks or so isn't the best track record for posting. But! My girl! She smiles, she's fun, she's sweet. As her dad says, "I can confidently say that she is the cutest baby since the beginning of time."

(And I reliably post pics every week or so, so really, who cares what I have to say? All we wants is baby pictures, prescious...)

Want some? Here's the Flickr link:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/7589857@N04/

And I've even found a site for posting videos of Amoryn - Vimeo - still not entirely sure how it works. And I wouldn't bother trying to watch them if you're in a dial-up world...

http://www.vimeo.com/user:208295/clips

That's all for now, going to go & do fun things with my girl!

Really.

The most astounding event of the day:

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Amoryn fell asleep at midnight, and I really believed her & went to bed myself at 12:30. She slept until 6:40 am. The man's alarm clock went off* before she did! Yay!
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Especially since she's being going through a phase/growth spurt where she howls in rage about many, many things when she is awake. Coupled with wanting food every 2 1/2 - 3 hours, with at least a zillion minutes (it seemed) of howling, angry, gum-bared, tongue-vibrating rage before, during, & after each meal. (I know maaaaany mothers have/had it much worse. I'm just trying to explain how exciting this sleep was.) (And Gramma Jeanne, who had 7 babies, did remark that she didn't remember any of her babies being like that.) (Of course, that was a while ago, and after the second or third baby, would you really be focused enough to remember? With the sleep deprivation & mutlitasking & all?) (And yes, we run through the hungry? dirty? burpy? farty? hot? bored? tired? routine. AND NONE OF IT, NOT EVEN GRIPE WATER, WORKS. The girls's just mad, is all, & has to let it out.) (But I digress.)

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Anyways! My beautiful girl gave me six hours of sleep! All in a row!

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We celebrated by having a nap together.

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(We don't co-sleep. Amoryn sleeps by herself nights in her crib, & days in her playpen or swing. But some mornings, forspecial, we nap together in the big bed.)

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*Sign me up for schadenfreude**, but DAMN, it felt good to watch somebody else get out of bed, because they had to, before I had to. Hahaha.

**scha·den·freu·de (noun) satisfaction or pleasure felt at someone else's misfortune.

Definitive Proof

I have a little girl.

The serger thread removes all doubt.

Hee Hee Hee!

I'm just downloading & organizing pics* to make a real, well written post. But until that arrives, I find this intensely entertaining:

(Imagine then as two frames in a video clip. Or like those pages from coloring books that you cut out & layer & then flip through real fast, to make a cartoon.)

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I may have spent too much time in the sun today.

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*Also, the camera is either the electronics version of Jesus Christ, or the cat-bath didn't hurt it. Either way, good. Although I'm not looking forward to meeting the electronic Pontuis Pilate. I bet he's a toaster.)

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And there are new pics on Flickr, see link on sidebar.

Oh Dear.

There has been an unfortunate vase/water/digital camera/cat incident, & I'm horribly afraid for both the camera & the cat... there can't be that much technology in the bottom 2.5mm of a camera, right? So sitting in a puddle of water won't hurt it, right? Ha. Haha.

This is where I feel I should begin wringing my hands, '50s housewife style, and saying "Dear, oh dear, WHAT is your father going to say when he gets home from work..."

The camera is currently drying on a pile of soft napkins. The cat is MIA, & I didn't actually witness the carnage, but we all know who likes to chew the tulip heads off of their stems...

Heads Up, Expectant Moms

Be poised, always, with vigilance, to click "BACK" or "CLOSE" when visiting a new website in a serious search for information. As I have learned before (to my chagrin, regret, & horror*), the Internet can show you many things. In particular, lactation porn. Ewww.

Not that I actually saw anything; but as the site loaded, I could tell from the banners etc that it was going to be one of "those" sites. So I clicked "Back!" "Close!" "Ack!", and was so scrambled that I forgot what the heck I was looking for in the first place.

*Years ago, I heard a teenage boy use a piece of slang I was unfamiliar with. My curiosity wouldn't let it go, & after I had polled all my girlfriends, I asked Google. Google could have just told me, but nooooo, it had to show me. *shudder*. Luckily, Liana introduced me to Urban Dictionary.com, which is a used-compiled dictionary of slang. There are many, many, many things described there, but at least there are minimal images.

Body Fluids Trifecta / "I'm Going To Have To Wash That"

Sadly, despite her best efforts, Amoryn did not win, place, or show in the Body Fluids Trifecta held yesterday. There was an initial strong performance with the suprise "Pee on Momma's Pants" move, executed with precision on the living room floor. This was followed by the equally unexpected "Spit a Mouthful of Undigested Milk into Momma's Nursing Bra". However, perhaps due to momma's increased vigilance, or Amoryn's lack of focus (she is only a month old), she neglected to spit up on any non-designated surfaces, thus failing to complete the third portion of the challenge.

Amoryn does win an Honorable Mention for her drive to soil laundry - she blew through three freshly laundered ensembles (two Amoryn's, one momma's).

Stay tuned for further tales of Sporting Baby Excellence.

One Month Ago...

One month ago, I was just getting into my bathtub, to remain there until 6 pm or so. While part of my brain knew that I'd have a baby to hold in my arms by the week's end (induction had been slated for Friday), a large portion of my brain was convinced that she was never leaving, and she would complete high school via braille correspondence through the skin of my belly.

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Turns out, Amoryn showed up that very day. The festivities commenced just after I got out of the tub, had a snack, & spoke to the midwives.

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"No, nothing. Maybe the odd twinge, but they've been happening all along. I'm going to go & have a nap, & then supper."

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I learned differently.... I laid down for the nap, & wow! Contraction city. Four & three quarter hours later, we had a baby. Huzzah! My darling girl had arrived!

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And with her arrival, she brought a lot with her. Some of which is an interesting array of noises, many that translate to the adult ear as "Waaa". (When really, it's "waa", "Wah", "WAAH!", etc.) I've gotten better at understanding, but I've also developed this list to check & diagnose issues:

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1) Diaper? Fusses, howls? Initial sniff test, peer in diaper, change diaper.

2) Hungry? Howls? Mouth open wide? Binky being rejected? Attempts to latch to father's arm? Offer boob.

3) Gassy? Which end?

3.a) Burpy? Fussy, fidgety, flaily, hungry but still savage despite breast? Burp in upright position.

3.b) Farty? Fussy, fidgety, flaily, stiff belly? Gently massage lower belly, bicycle legs, & lay baby on side. (Adult also has option of laying on side.)

4) Overtired? Fussy, fidgety, flaily, glaringly wide open eyes? Walk, stairs, dance, sing, celing fan, bathroom fan, stroller ride, car ride...

5) Bored? This is new. Still in early diagnosis. Propping upright seems to help.

6) Imaginary Goblins Pinching Baby? Tough one. The IG disappear once adult shows up, but takes time for poor baby to relax. Poor baby is also aggravated by misdiagnosing 1)-5).

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Not to say that all Amoryn does is cry & fuss, but if the crying & fussing isn't dealt with quickly, it escalates, and that makes it hard to savor the deliciousness that is our little mumbley girl.

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I get the biggest kick out of watching her wake up. (So far, anyways.) She screws up her face, stretches, & waves her arms, & in general, channels EXACTLY how I feel about waking up.

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She loves sunshine & ceiling fans. She is taking baths on advisement - the wailing has reduced and she might even deign to enjoy one in the future. She watches things more now, & smiles & chuckles in her sleep, and is starting to make eye contact. We're still waiting for the first full eye contact & smile, but that's okay. Judging by the sweetness of the sleeping smile, the real mccoy is going to knock my socks off & reduce me to a gibbering fool of a mama, trying to get her to do it again.

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I'm already a bit of a gibbering fool, truth be told. She's pretty hard to resist; Am's used her super baby powers to hypnotize parents, grandparents, cousins, & aunties alike. Even Pat's bachelor coworker seemed fascinated.

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All in all, she's fantastic. I wouldn't trade her for a million years, or even 8 hours of sleep all in a row. And for me, that's really saying something.

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I think she's waking up; gotta go & catch the show!

Raving Success!

I am enjoying a small moment of success, in that we a) had our morning nap, then Amoryn had her morning feed, then her morning bath (with only 1 howl! wow!), currently being followed by a post bath nap for the girl...

And then I had a shower! And breakfast! And cooked some stuff for supper! And it's only three in the afternoon! I feel like Tenzig Norgay, with Amoryn as a very small Sir Edmund Hillary. Of course, this glow of success is already being set up for disaster because the next stage is.... THE GROCERY STORE.... (cue ominous music). After she eats & is changed, of course.

I feel fairly optimistic; she had a growth spurt/meltdown day on Sat, so she is more likely to sleep well today & less likely to meltdown. Not a sure thing, of course, nothing I'd take to Vegas, but enough of a probability that I feel safe in attempting to go & get milk & muffin tins.

There she is now! Wish us luck!

Hey Internet, I've got a new girl now.

It's not that I love you any less, Internet, it's just that I love her more. The cats are getting used to it, I know you will too.

Amoryn Opal, now three weeks old! She's got a belly button & everything! She also has a killer case of baby acne, poor thing, so we may slow down on the photos, just foor her poor dignity.

As for all the standard how am I/Amoryn questions, for brevity's sake, allow me to post from emails:

Q: Who, what, where, when? How big, how long, how long?

A: Amoryn Opal, born at 11:28 pm April 4. (8lbs 8ozs, 21" long). Foothills Hospital, 4 3/4hours.

Q: ...what the phonics for pronouncing her name ...

A: ...it's A-mor-in. Or AM-rin, or the little squeaky wheel, who gets what she wants when she wants it - or at least, she gets what she wants, once we figure out what she wants.

Q: Pictures?

A: http://www.flickr.com/photos/7589857@N04/sets/72157600052068210/

Q: How am I feeling?
A: Started off with " Things are going well in the land of the sleep deprived;", moved to "but has really knocked me for a loop. The midwives had me on bedrest for the first 4 days, & I'm still pretty weebly. Improving though" once the adrenalin wore off. Stopped by "... marooned? Sleep deprived? Happy?", and have now settled into feeling physically & mentally very well, and have mostly gotten used to it being mama & babe during the day.

Q: How is Amoryn?

A: ...my girl is gorgeous & such a good baby, ...She's wonderful. And going for her nap,...

Q: How is the man doing with fatherhood?
A: Completely besotted with his girl. Fantastic. Wonderful.

And now, naptime!

At Least We're Not Having A Baby Elephant

Really. We were watching a PBS special, this is why I'm very glad we're not having a baby elephant:
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1) Gestation period - 18-22 months
2) Baby's weight at birth: about 250 lbs.
3) Baby's length - well, they're about three feet tall, not sure how long that would make them. Also? Does the trunk get included in the length measure or not?
4) Babies will drink about 3 gallons of milk a day.
5) Babies aren't fully weaned until they are about 10.
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Also, with a baby elephant, we'd either be in a zoo, meh, or in the wild, which is fraught with natural & human dangers. So all in all, I'm content that we're still carting around what appears via ultrasound to be a perfectly healthy human baby.
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On the other hand, baby elephants are adorable! The video of them learning how to use their trunks - too funny. The man chuckled.

What do we have, if not a baby elephant? Well, here is Pat with his prize from curling on St Paddy's day. His team got picked last for prizes. There wasn't much left, so he picked the classic & sophisticated 'frog with reflecting ball'.

I like it very much. Pat liked this photo of me - barefoot & pregnant. (I was wearing slippers with my housedress, but kicked them off, just for posterity's sake).

Here's a better belly profile, on a different day, but in the same housedress. (I admit, I was looking at the tv, not smiling for the camera.)

Here, I am wearing the same housedress, but I've got my bathrobe on over top. The kitten has been unusually snuggly & an (almost) perfect model of catly goodness.

Suki has also been very good - I deemed him my surrogate baby, as he was curled into such a nice little ball.

And I rewarded his surrogate baby-hood with dumping him into the baby sling I'd made for a test-drive. Suki didn't seem to know quite what to make of things, but overall, he approved. (He's purring in this pic.)

I wasn't as struck with that version of the sling, so I've revamped it. No photos of that yet.

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And now, now I am going to go! And accomplish something! Something like, um, maybe getting out of my bathrobe & into real clothes! Ha!

Ooh, so high-tech!

I've created a "flickr" account, which is basically an online photo album.

Eventually, there will be baby pictures there. And other stuff too. For now, there is the belly progression.

This is the link that you click on:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/7589857@N04/sets/72157600037344442/

I'll post a new link here whenever I update something nifty.

Like baby pictures. Or something.

The (clay) baby is home!

Yes indeed, our clay projects from prenatal classes have been fired, glazed, & fired again. We now have a lovely little clay baby, & a labyrinth that I'll likely use as a trivet to put my teapot full of raspberry leaf tea on. Thanks to cousin Ty for his help.

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The raspberry leaf tea? Yes, we're still waiting for that darn baby. The babe is fine, just slow, and on Monday (assuming we're still pregnant at that point), we'll trundle to an ultrasound lab & check to make sure that the babe is hale & hearty & some other stuff that the midwives explained but I already forget. Essentially, making sure that the fish & the fishtank are both still sound & stable.

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I had intentions of posting pics of the clay baby & labyrinth, however, I've again been foiled by my camera. Shame. I was also going to put up a picture of the excessively awesome meal that the man & I made the other night - I made fresh egg noodles, which he cooked with scallops & tiger prawns in a garlic-infused olive oil. It totally rocked. Of course, the photo wouldn't do it justice anyways. Too bad smell-o-vision never took off - that would give you more of an inkling of the splendour.

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I was also going to post a pic of my increasing profile. As noted, my camera foiled me, so here is a quick self-portrait.

Now I'm going to go & further hone my stunning artistic skills.

Overtime has Begun!

Yes, there is still no baby. And if you call the house, there is still no baby. I even went & checked in the baby's room; still no baby. We're only in our first day of being overdue, which, for my time sense, is practically on time, really, so... maybe there will be a baby later today. Or tomorrow. Rest assured, I promise we'll call when we do find that darned baby.

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Yesterday's funniest event:

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me: "Gee it's super nice. Come help me hang the big hammock up."

the man: "But you can do that yourself."
me: "Yes, but I can't move the planters that are underneath where the hammock should be."
the man: "Oh. Right."

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So we hung the hammock, in the lovely sunlight, & I thought we had it set at about the right height. I cautiously clambered onto the hammock. At the moment the man cautions me not to hurt myself, to be careful, my full weight hits the hammock.

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And I slowly, majestically, sank to the ground. And started laughing. Was it the first hammock stretch of spring that got me? Or the unanticipated extra poundage that screwed with my idea of the appropriate hammock arc?

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Regardless of why my arse hit the brick deck (slowly, majestically), the only harm possible would be a) laughing myself into a hernia b) spraining my ego, or c) trying to get up by myself.

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Luckily, the man helped haul me up. I was still laughing. He thinks I've cracked. We readjusted the hammock & the second run was much more successful.

Regulation Time: 2 Days...

Yes indeed, that's a sports reference. Overtime starts on Sunday.

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I'm well, the man is well, the kid is bigger & stronger every day, just mulling when to make the grand entrance, I suspect. I keep mentioning that there's lots of room out here in the world for all the kicking & arm waving, but so far, still reviewing options.

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Speaking of options, there's all the endless things I can do with my days! So far, I've done quite a bit of sewing, a little baking (you all remember the cookies), a little cooking, cleaning, of course, and a little knitting.

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What did I knit? Well, I made these little mitties so the baby won't be scratching the baby's face with the baby's wee sharp fingernails. (I'm not feeling clever enough to refer to the baby in alternating pronoun genders today, thus, as you may have noticed: third person! The bayyyyyy-bee!)

I find them quite hilarious. Of course, I'm a little more into tattoo culture than some of you: other "knuckle tatt" options included: "ROCK" & "ROLL", "KNIT" & "PURL", "LEFT" & "LEFT". The last one is especially funny if you've ever tried to paddle a canoe or drive through a strange city with me. ("I mean the other left! Crap!")

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What have I sewn? I can't remember. Lots of stuff, all baby oriented. Today's completed project is essentially a big hairnet for the playpen to keep the cats & bugs out. I had something more high-tech & engineered in mind, more tent-fly-like, with zippers & other moving parts, but as I was preparing to commit to that course, it occured to me: a big hair net will be just as effective & much easier & quicker to sew. Thus, hairnet.

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You'll just have to imagine it; I'm using my little (free) (crap) camera, instead of the man's good Canon, as the Canon is getting a little dodgy with the opening & closing of the lens cover. Still takes brilliant pics, but after how many years & vacations, the camera is clearly feeling that it needs some servicing. Reasonable enough; we promise to take it in. After the baby shows up. Until then, we're not using the Canon, & well, I can't hold still in a bright enough light to take a decent playpen hairnet photo with the L.F.C.C.

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(And just to keep the Canon from getting too high & mightly, we've borrowed the man's coworker's super-ultra-mega-snazzy-camera, in case the Canon craps out. Of course, I'm terrified of the S.U.M.S.C., so that's why I put batteries into my L.F.C.C. )

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AND I'm going to put film into the real camera - how's that for kickin' it old school?

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And I'm going to go & eat something. Too bad I can never think of clever closing segues; you'll just have to suffer! Oh wait - a clever clsoing segue that involves suffering! Hah! And also starts with "and"! I can hear english major's brains exploding! Wheee!

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And here's a third person play-by-play: Kourtney (baby included) will be going upstairs, to peruse the fridge, & then Kourtney (baby included) will be eating either leftover lasagna, soup, a fruit/yogurt smoothie, or something else! And the crowd goes wild!

More Bad Habits

All right. I like America's Next Top Model. I love it. I might marry it, but a) I'm already married, & b) they haven't had any polygamists on the show (YET). I get a rush of irrational glee over it. It's so... so... trite? Superficial? Staged? Ridiculous? The man does not even remotely comprehend why I enjoy it so. "It's not even 'reality' tv", he says. That's totally its charm - there's nothing realistic at all about this. I honestly didn't think that there was anything out there that could possibly heighten my enjoyment of ANTM, but I was wrong. You remember the guy who took the funny pictures of his cat? He 'reviews' each episode of ANTM.

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If you've never seen ANTM, you could probably skip this. If you are deeply offended by ANTM, skip this too. If you find Tyra's judgements of the skinny pretty girls weirdly compelling & addictive, check it out:

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http://fourfour.typepad.com/fourfour/2007/03/prude_awakening.html#more

Things That Have Impressed or Entertained Me, Lately

This is, of course, not an exhaustive list. And has no cohesive narrative.

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First: The pinking wheel for my rotary cutter. As God is my witness, I'll never use pinking shears again!* Really. This gratified & amused me.

*delivered with Scarlett O'Hara accent.

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Next: The mortgage burning party! It was awesome fun, well attended, & we only had a lot of leftover food, not a ton. (Excluding the liquids - we don't need to buy hard liquor, mix, or beer for quite some time. Where are all of our hard drinking friends??? Right... Saskatchewan...)

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This is the mortgage, burning. (The mortgage had been tucked into the dessicated arms of our Xmas tree. Hence the inferno effect. Let this be a cautionary tale - check your real Xmas tree's water at least TWICE A DAY when it's inside!!!)

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And here is Pat & I, laughing in relief that the tree did not light the house on fire. Because that would not have been funny. Ironic, yes, but not funny at all.

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As well. This is me, in a sundress that my mom made in '76 or '77, to wear over either my younger brother or I. Of course, if it was '76, for myself, then she wore it over both of us. At any rate, it was plumb GORGEOUS on Sunday, so I sat on the deck in the sun for quite some little time.

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Eh, what's that? You can't see my belly very well in that photo? Hard to tell if the kid has dropped? Well. Here you go then, this is from yesterday:

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And no, it's not a plastic belly - the gleam is because of all the various body butters that I carefully smoosh onto my belly two to three times a day.

See? No stretch marks.

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Now, I'm going to go & do some filing, which while not exactly enthralling, does keep me sort of entertained. It's better than daytime tv, & it makes the man happy.