lolCat of the day.

I find this so funny. That's all. Thanks ICanHasCheezberger, you rock.

Dyed pencil rovings, stage 2!

Dyed pencil rovings, stage 2! Feb 18, originally uploaded by Kourtney_R.

Now, I know the previous photo looked good, but it didn't truly capture incandescent & angry tone of the orange. So I plunked it all back into the slow cooker, this time, adding only blue kooaid to the water, as opposed to sprinkling the powder directly onto the wool, then plastic-wrapping. I didn't use vinegar either time, & it seems to have worked marvelously! I'm in the process of spinning this into (very uneven & lumpy) yarn. It's quite lovely & subtle, soft peachy-browns fading into blue, with occasional little hits of orange. I think I need to work at bit more at finessing my handling of the rovings though - it had started to matt/felt just a little bit, which is making it hard to draft well to spin it with my spindle.
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Did I mention I'm loving my spinning class? I'm loving my spinning class.
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As well, I just figured out that I can use Flickr to post into Blogger, so I can blog/upload photos in one fell swoop! Huzzah!

The rovings, after stage 1. Feb 18

The rovings, after stage 1. Feb 18, originally uploaded by Kourtney_R.

Yes, a success: dyeing things in the slow cooker worked marveloussly - it wasn't hot enough to melt the cling wrap seperating the colors from each other; it cooked all the dye into the wool - for once, the ater was totally clear! It was awesome.

The Best of Soul Train Feb 16

The Best of Soul Train Feb 16, originally uploaded by Kourtney_R.

This was on. The Best of Soul Train, I mean. I think I was meant to dance on Soul Train, because I totally bust moves just like these people do. Well, maybe not liek the performers, who were... spectacular, as in worth of spectating. Their ensembles, in case you can't tell, included varying headgear inspired by ziggurats, filmy organza wings, lyrca leggings (covering one or both legs), and sequined bras & codpieces/hot pants. It was amazing.
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I can't wait to tune in next week to see what else the Best of Soul Train has to offer!

It smelled like spring today.

It was Wednesday today, which is obvious, yes, but Wednesday has come to mean not the middle of the work-week, but swimming lesson day! Swimming lessons are awesome, with the only awkward part the post-swim shower & change. Today's shower was mucho better, as I brought along a sling & used it to keep Amoryn braced on my hip. It may seem a little weird, but have you ever tried to shower holding a naked baby, shampoo her hair, rinse your own swimsuit, and not drop anything, especially the baby? And no, I am most certanly not going to ever, ever set my girl down on the floor of the shower. I wear flipflops in there for a reason, a good reason, a reason that involves all those stranger's feet & the warm, moist, hospitable environment that 10 showers in a single room create. *shudder* I gag in horror when other women set their babies down - BARE-BOTTOMED! - but I try not to judge. Sure, maybe you can't hold them, but land's sake people, put down a towel or something. That baby is going to get something awful or WORSE on its poor little fat bottom.
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So yes! Moving away from that awful scenario, it was Wednesday, which is in between Tuesdays & Thursdays, which are both engineering office work days where Am gets a babysitter & I get spreadsheets. Of course, I'm doing some bookkeeping on the side now, so "work" is creeping in all over the place. But I still want my Wednesday to be like a little mini-weekend day for Am & I - minimal housecleaning, fun stuff like playing all afternoon, with no momma doing dishes. (Although Am does enjoy that - it gives her an excellent chance to sneak up on the catfood.)
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So we went for a stroll! We strolled to the mailbox, we strolled around an easment to a different cul-de-sac, & we explored a "new" playground. It had a nice quick baby-friendly slide, which Amoryn adored (I was holding her from over the side, of course), it had a rocking horse which was quite a bit too big, a dinosaur that was quite a bit too dirty, and a little rocking car that was quite interesting. And there were two swings - one baby-bucket ("for VERY SMALL CHILDREN"), and one regular swing (whose warning I did not read before sitting on). Swinging was warmly recieved, as always.
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And as we strolled home the long way (because we could), there were wafts & very occasional gusts of spring flirting with my nose. I know spring's not ready to put out yet, but it makes me feel good that she's starting to fix her hair, & decide what to wear, & put on some perfume, & get ready for the big date.
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And now I have a date with my bed & my little green fuzzy booties, which are an anniversary present from the man. They have removable heatable insoles, & I've been sleeping with them on, & I lurve them almost as much as I love the man. He's so cool.

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I shall leave you with this warm idea from I Can Has Cheezberger, http://icanhascheezburger.com/

Who Trusts A Weather Forecast More Than Five Days In Advance?, or Why I Don’t Care About the American Election

I'm officially tired everything about the American election. It's not until November, people! We're Canadian; we don't even get to vote! Why is it everywhere - including my hip-hop radio station?
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I hardly pay attention to our own government's doings because really, they are beyond my control. And the people in power, they're liars. Even if they're not inveterate liars about everything, they get forced into it. I know this. It's a fact. I'm a liar too - but in a small scale, as my powers are small.
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I say "All right, we're going to clean up the toys & then go for a walk." But the weather changes or Amoryn has a giant poo or something else and poof! it's nap time & I'm a liar. Good intentions butter no bread, I'm sure someone's granny says that.

Epic toy spill coupled with noxious diaper derails stroller plan... news update at 11.
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Despite my best efforts, it happens occasionally. The scale of power that the goverment controls is so much more massive that it turns into "We're going to change health care / cut tax/ end child poverty." But then... there's the deficit / Senate / giant lighting bolts form God. So they turn into liars. This is the way it is; I end up voting for who I think has the best intentions. Mostly. Sometimes I pick based on who's the biggest loser - who's going to really appreciate my vote? (Here in a very conservative riding, I generally vote Green. An added bonus - as I haven't voted the government in, I can vetch about them all I want.)
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Now, I do accept that the American election is important to Canada, & thus to me. The election isn't until early November though! I have things to pay attention to right now, that are really important. Like lunch.

Fears that the electoral majority are won through their stomachs founded, new study reveals.

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And then later, doing more laundry so that the girl can wear her almost too-small 18-mo clothing, instead of her slightly too big 24-mo clothing. Hmm.

Big baby bending budget - critics worry when will mad growth end?

(Our 10-month old girl in her 24-month coveralls & shirt. So sweet! Luscious baby wale-corduroy!)
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Well, even if I decide to move her into her 24-mo clothing, I still have to wash the outgrown stuff before I put it into the hamper to save for as hand-me downs. (I always thought it was Handy-Downs, as a a kid. Or maybe Han Dee Downs...)
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Anyways. Please, please media & the rest of the universe, conspire for the day so that I hear something other than "Obama", "Hillary", "Blue state", etc. Thanks.
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Now, let's get back to lunch! And the new melamine turtle bowl! Yumm!

Ha. Arg. Gotta go.

This isn't nearly as funny - or illustrated - as Whoopee's blog about phone copmpanies - http://yetanotherbloomingblog.blogspot.com/2008/01/brief-working-notes-for-epic-norse-war.html - she even features antique nudity. Really.

At any rate. I just got off of the phone with two different employees of HBC. The first one I called to cancel the Mastercard that they were automatically upgrading my Bay card to. I was already irritated, I admit; I'd spent an hour + sorting & filing reciepts into piles so that I can do the bookkeeping for them later. And to find a letter, letting me know that I get a Mastercard! Without any effort! Oh boy! Be sure to spend lots!, well. It increased my irritation. I called the number to say "No, does not want", and went through their automated system. The automated system subjected me to a lovely 2 minute spiel about all of the wonders of the Mastercard, then said "if you don't want, press 2". I did, then pressed 8 to speak to someone further. It simply seemed too easy to cancel it that way; there was no verification, no nothing. Also, I wanted to know who I had to call to remove my name & phone number & address from the apparently inexhaustible array of amazing offers, special deals, incredible events, & free* things. The woman I spoke to spent another 2 minutes trying to make sure that I really understood how special I was to the HBC, that I should feel honored that they trusted me enough to recieve such a special offer with such amazing perks, and so forth. Eventually my mantra of "Does not want... remove from list... does not want... remove from list..." sank into her consciousness. Then I asked about the cancellation - well, she can send out a letter to me, but first, let her confirm that address. "Well, I will give you the cancellation number provided to me, then you can pull up my address." "All right!" she says. "Then can I have you address to confirm?" "No. It's the same address as is on this letter, that arrived in the mail yesterday. I haven't moved." "But I need to confirm," she says. I am not giving my address out to anyone; I'm quite certain that even though they have it already, there is a secret database that they store recalcitrant, master-card-free addresses in, then set them up to be automatically dialed by a fax maxchine at 2 am & recieve mailers about Enhancing! Your! Male! Parts! "Why don't you read me the address you have, & I can let you know it's the same", I say, adopting her cloyingly sweet wheedle. "I cannot do that." she replied, finally dropping the sucrose. "Well then, I'm not giving you my address, you can't confirm, so mail the letter confirming canellation or not; but give me the number to remove myself from all of the free* offers etc. She did, grudgingly, I chipperly apologized for being a bear, & wished her a verry nice day & hung up before she could get out one last time, how much I really mean to the Bay. It was like a verrry weird breakup with a passive aggressive needy boyfriend, using a script.
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My loins fully girded, I steeled myself for another ten minute quest into the automaton world of HBC. I was surprised & completely disarmed to find that the phone was answered on the third ring by a man, named Doral, who had me un-subscribed & feeling quite happy in three minutes flat.
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Other than bearding various telemarketing lions in their dens, I've been pretty busy. I've got all sorts of knitting things just completed & on the go; pictures & a post to follow at some point (I know, you can't bear the anticipation...), I've been working more for the office, I've been taking the girl to swim lessons, I've tried to get to the gym for myself too, and well. I've been busy. It's not you, it's me. I did manage to update FLlckr yesterday - I resolve to try & get it done weekly, if nothing else, because it takes faaaaaaaar to long to do it monthly. Plus also, it leaves the grandparents & other baby fans in the lurch.
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Speaking of the babe, she just started singing, so I'd best go & get her, stuff some lunch in both of us, then head off to my old office, where I am picking up some work to do from home. Yes. I now have three jobs - Amoryn, the engineering office, & the accounting office. (Not counting work that doesn't pay in baby snuggles or cash - which leaves out keeping track of our company AND housework as jobs.) Stay tuned to see how the balancing act all works out... assuming of course, that I have time to post!


*Free! for the first month, then for a low, low monthly fee of $14.95....

Well, it makes me feel a little better, anyways.

I am feeling better today. I am not going to read the first section of the newspaper, & I might just ban the talk radio for a while, after hearing about a toboganning incident between a 12 year old & a 6 year old. However. PBS is still good.
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Why is PBS good? Well, without it, who knows when I would have heard about the Bohs-Einstein Condensate. It's a fourth form of matter that is former at extremely cold temperatures - we're talking waaaaaaaaay past freezing your tongue to a flagpole.
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Colder than deepest darkest outer space, actually.
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Anyways, in a nutshell, skipping some physics gobbeldygook, if certain gases are cooled to almost absolute zero, their atoms become so still & spread out that they overlap. They essentially become one - and what happens to one atom, happens to them all. It's like nirvana in a physics lab.
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No, not the guys in the lab coats are not listening to Kurt Cobain. Jeez. I'm going to go & get my girl up & we can meditate together. Well, she'll probably have a bottle, but I can try to meditate.

The first section of the paper.

This isn’t a typical, funny, fluffy post. FYI.
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I hardly ever read the first section of the newspaper. The man heckles me over it, mocking my head-in-the-sand policy, but I just find most of it too upsetting. I found I was especially sensitive while I was pregnant, & renounced the paper as a whole & only read the science & book review sections of the Economist. (Really, the most interesting parts of the Economist. I briefly tried to dredge through reading the whole thing - political & economical junk as well as the interesting new discoveries in tit-mouse reproduction, & the review of the autobiography of the noodle king of China. I read it on the train, & I found that when I got to work, I felt no smarter, could remember none of the thrilling information about the umm… thrilling stuff, and I was groggy from trying so hard to stay awake through it all.)
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When Amoryn was uh… I’m not sure how old, I realized that I was completely insulated from current events. I enjoyed this for a while, then one day, as I wondered “What stock market crash?” I decided that maybe I should keep up just a little bit. The tactic I chose was to read the verb in each article’s title, & judge from there. It’s pretty effective; you can dodge upsetting or boring things like “Kills”, “Attack”, “Spending”, etc. I also tend to read the little blurbs down the sides – if it’s only a paragraph of info, I can usually deal with it. I usually skim pretty heavily, and if the article is interesting, then I’ll read the whole thing at length. If it’s not, I’ve only wasted a little bit of time & virtually no precious brain power on it. (Yes dear man, I can hear you: “But if you don’t know what’s happening, & you don’t like it, how can you change it?”)
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I had read a while back of a mother who was freed from wrongful imprisonment for the death of her daughter. The forensic pathologist who did the autopsy & testified is being inquested*. Today I skimmed a further article about this doctor, & the inquest. I wasn’t expecting anything to jarring or new; it’s just one of the things that I recall, because it resonates – how awful for a mother to loose her 21 month old child, and then to have it compounded by being wrongfully convicted in her death, due to the pathologist’s mistakes!** I suppose I was hoping to hear that he receives some punishment that will make things equal, no matter how unlikely that really is.
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What I wasn’t expecting was to read something that would jar me completely. “A 14-year-old boy who had been babysitting Jenna the night of her death later admitted to an undercover officer that he had killed Jenna. He pleaded guilty to manslaughter last year and is now serving a 22-month youth sentence.” That, coupled with the previous paragraph “Re-examinations of Jenna's file indicate she died of internal bleeding caused by a blow to her abdomen, as Dr. Smith concluded, but that her injuries also included bruising and abrasion to her genitals and anus.”
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A 14-year old boy. A babysitter. Killed the baby. And now is serving 22 months? Which is ONE MONTH more than the baby had ever been alive? And the 21 month old had been what? And what? And what? This is where my brain essentially shut down completely. This is where I want to never, ever go to work, never leave Amoryn alone with another individual, never ever use a babysitter. Never. She can be home-schooled too. The man & I don’t need to go anywhere without her. Ever. I know it’s all irrational, and it will fade in a day or two, but today, Amoryn gets lots of extra hugs & smooshes.
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It really disturbs me when I hear of any abuse or sexual assault against children, especially babies. It throws a rock in my pond, and I’m left wondering how a person could ever do such a thing, how a baby, a child could ever be viewed in that sexual way. I really don’t care what people do for their kicks, as long as they’re doing it with other consenting adults. Straight? Okay. Gay? Sure. Like dressing up in mohair animal costumes? I don’t get it, but whatever.
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I feel tainted by even hearing about any child abuse cases, because inevitably, as I’m bathing or changing my girl, I will find myself wondering how on earth anyone could do such things to babies, and how I can protect her. It also brings up memories – the ex in Moose Jaw who was a pedophile that I turned in to the police. The months I spent not really sleeping or eating, trying to deal with everything. Some of the things the ex told me – things that happened to him as a child. Things that he did as a youth, to other children. The images that I found on his computer that started it all off. All that messy, unpleasant craziness. It’s awful. As one counselor told me “It’s okay to feel sympathy if the dog was kicked as a puppy. But that doesn’t change the dog being rabid now.” What about all the children out there being bit by the rabid dogs?
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It makes me brood. Sometimes it makes me cry in anger & sorrow. And I don’t want to be a weeping, brooding, overprotective mother. But really, when I read the paper, how can I not be? Where is the solution here? How I control the world so my baby, all babies are protected? What is the answer? Have I benefited anything by reading today’s paper?
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The only answer I have is that no, the paper did me no good today. I was already aware that the world contains pedophiles & abusers & liars & cheats. I guess all I can do is try to be a protective, smart mother, who doesn’t stifle her child, or leave her open & available to any kind of abuse. It’s tough as someone dealing with this all in a hypothetical way; I can’t imagine trying to survive any of the abuse.
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This is today’s article, if you’re interested; there are links to other articles in the case at the bottom of it. It’s not something I’m going to recommend or suggest; it’s just there if you’re curious as to what set me off.
http://www.nationalpost.com/todays_paper/story.html?id=241805
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Time to go & wake the girl; morning naptime is over.

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*As far as I recall, & if I can actually use “inquested” in a sentence.
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**The initial blurb mentioned nothing of the suspected child abuse; only the wrongful imprisonment. As I read more, I learn that perhaps it was understandable that the mother be accused; but I still have that first emotional impact coloring my reading.

Like a chorus of angels, but with Lycra.

Sooooo.... I went to the mall last night. I was feeling pretty darn groovy, as a) I had parked the girl with the man, b) I had Sar & Coreen with me (or rather, Coreen had us, as she was driving), & c) I had just booked the family a cheap Cheap CHEAP direct flight to Nassau in April. Oh yeah, we're going to the Bahamas for my daughter's birthday. How oil-trash nouveau-riche do we sound? Anyways. I was hitting the mall to 1) return jeans & 2) try some jeans on with a proper audience.
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In the change room: "Interesting.... not sure about the front pockets... turn around." I complied. "No! Bad butt! Bad butt! No!" "Oh thank god," I said, "Honesty. I knew I was right to be skeptical of the commission sales-girls."
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As I was walking down the mall, I was hit but a sudden shock of horror. Literally. I don't think I'd ever had one of those before. Sudden. Shock. Of Horror. Yup. I need a new swimsuit. Gyarrrrrgh... my last “new” swimsuit is actually Sarah's swimsuit that she bought for $10 at the Army & Navy in Edmonton.* It’s cute, but it's old... and getting that translucent butt-wear thing that swimsuits get. Ladies, I know you know what I mean. Men, are you reading this? Really? Wow. Well, don't worry your manly heads, it's endemic to Lycra swimwear. (If you wear Speedos, then you know what I mean.)
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Realizing my shock of horror, I immediately threw myself on Sarah & Coreen’s mercy. “Okay! Let’s go swimsuit shop.” I thought it was best to get it over with – quick band aid rip style. It wasn’t until I was in the dressing room, struggling into the first of the bikinis that Sar helped to pick out, that I realized… I was wearing comfy underwear. Big, cute, comfy underwear. At least, they were cute by themselves or with a t-shirt to sleep in while camping. But hanging out over the swim bottoms? A little ugly… A lot ugly.
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I persevered. Sarah gladly fumbled through millions of swimsuits for me, & Coreen sat in the fitting room area, & was the voice of reason to Sarah’s “Hey! It’s got stripes AND polka dots! How cute is that?” It wasn’t even that demoralizing- the ugly underwear, stuffed not-so-subtly into the swim togs, let me externalize my natural swim-wear anxiety on to them. Good sports, those knickers. I was a good sport, too, & tried everything on. Coreen & Sarah were incredibly sporting, by putting up with & encouraging the whole deal.
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Weirdly enough, I found two swimsuits that I liked. I liked them enough to buy them both – after Sarah & Coreen both said “Buy them both – you’re gone for 10 days, when did you last buy a swimsuit, prorate them over five years.” I realized they were right, & did so.
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No, you don’t get to see pictures – you'll have to wait for holiday pics. They’re cool though – one is a retro-50’s-ish bikini – black top & bottoms, with a wide red polka dot belt. The other is a black bikini with a lighter snake-print trim, & make me think of the booty girls in the music videos. Not that I’m built like a booty girl, or can even move like one, or anything. I think it’s the snake-print that does it.
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The man is plagued & opted for the out I gave him – namely – I will try them on for him this weekend, when he is feeling better, & can muster the appropriate lustful response.
.Hmm… lacking an appropriate segue, may I insert here my list of things to do today: I) vacuum II) bank app’t III) grocery shop IV) make supper, after deciding WHAT to make for supper. I’m frankly out of ideas. Even if I listen to my instincts & eat the rest of the bag of Oreos, I still have to feed the man & Amoryn something….
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(Incidentally, I am INCREDIBLY excited about our vacation! So excited! I'm really just burbling incoherently & waving my arms, which is why the bulk of this post has been about the swimsuits, which are cool, yeah, and easier to articulate, but eee!! Bahamas! International tax-haven, here we come!)
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*She had fortuitously packed two swimsuits because I had neglected to pack ANY when we went to the Middle East. I also didn’t pack any bras. Let me tell you, bra shopping in Syria, she is a strange, strange thing.*
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**I’m a much better traveler now. Honest. I can even make it to Ikea without locking Amoryn in the car.***
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*** Although I did lock her in the jeep the other night. But the jeep was off, & in the garage, & the spare key was to hand. Easy mistake to make. Easy mistake to fix.****
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****Hard mistake to believe or forget, if you’re my husband.

Dun, dun-dun, done!

A whole bunch (well, three pages) of new pics up on Flickr!

Clearly unimpressed with a prairie winter.

Oh, the mall, the mall…

I just watched a 20 minute thingy called “The Story of Stuff” (watch it here http://www.storyofstuff.com/ ). It was very interesting, and all mostly things I knew, but things that I don’t usually think about in that particular order, or even particularly often. You should maybe watch it if you have been mulling your consumption of things, or you feel consumed by your things, or if you want to reinforce your re-using & recycling. If the mall is your happy place, maybe not so much.
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I try not to consume too needlessly… I believe that I’m not shopping to fill some greater void in my life… I think my shopping excesses are mostly driven by my inner crow (ooo… that’s SHINY… we likes it…we wants it…). The man & I were just having the post Xmas discussion about how much stuff we seem to keep buying, & do we really need it? Really really? In some cases (bigger clothes for Amoryn), yes we do. In some cases (new ipods or tv’s), no we don’t. Some cases are arguable – for example: new pants for me. I have one pair of work pants that fit me & that I feel good in. At what point do I balance my desire to have pants that fit me & make me feel good against my budget, my actual need for work pants, and my wariness of consuming for the sake of consumption?
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This is why I often buy things, take them home, & then return them. It’s hard to take all of those points into consideration when you’ve been looking for some damn pants that don’t give you muffin top & the baby is getting fussy & the mall music is too loud & can I get some decent service here? It’s not that I’m having underlying ego issues about whether I deserve new things. It’s not guilt over spending. It’s not consumption-bulimia. It’s plain old being overwhelmed by stimuli, and using the system (I can buy this & return it up to 30 days later, no problem?) to avoid the system (naaaaaaasty dressing room mirrors). As well, I can’t always shop with my girls, for their informed opinion on important things such as: how does my ass really look in these?
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Which brings me to jeans… Yes, I am going to return those jeans. The waist is too high. I was rethinking what I really want from a new pair of jeans (dark wash, no pre-fading, wide legged, not super high waisted), trying to decide if I was looking for too much from a single item. Am I investing some kind of secret emotional agenda on these pants? Am I attaching too many things to these? Is there really some insecurity I want these pants to cover up? (The mall, it really kicked my butt on the jean hunt, it did.).
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No, I want dark pants so that I can wear them to the office. I want wide legs because I like the silhouette and they’re comfortable. Ditto the waist. I want jeans, not dress pants, for the comfort, durability, & washablilty. I think I’m just feeling beleaguered because I’m NOT going to spend more than $120 MAX on jeans and what I want is not what anybody else anywhere seems to be making or buying. (I walked into one jean store – and I swear to god – there was the “$125 jean SALE” rack. As in, look, amazing, only $125!!! As opposed to $250+!) I’m even willing to flex on one point – I could like with a little fading, or I could live with a different cut, but there was nothing! Nothing!
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So you know what this means. This means… I start eyeing up my sewing machines. Genghis & Lil, how are you two feeling? Should I take you in for your yearly tune-up, & exchange my not-right jeans for some dark-wash denim material? Or make cords out of material that I already have? Hmmm?
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It certainly would tie nicely into the documentary about the Stuff, at any rate.
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PS: I love the g-diapers, but I think I need to try the medium size - Miss Amoryn is right between sizes, so I opted larger, because that works better for disposables, but not so much for these, apparently. The man figures we should just wait & keep using disposables, but I'm keen! I'm focused! I'm eager! I know I'm still consuming, but it's in the name of less consumption.... gosh, this is all so confusing. I'm going to go & knit something to clear my mind.

Of shoes & bums & other things….

I went to the mall yesterday, hunting for jeans & underpinnings. I was successful* on both counts, but what really made my day was a surprise find when I stopped in at a baby accessories store to see what they had for shoes. (Am is almost out of her 6-12 month shoes. And she needs at least one pair of shoes… if they’re adorable red patent leather, so much the better, no?) (And no, Mom, I didn’t buy her any. I decided to wait & see what they had at another store, plus I’m trying to decide how many of her outfits will match the red shoes. Lts, I think, but I didn’t want to impulse buy.)
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(I know, you’re convinced I’m creating a shopping monster. And maybe I am. But I prefer to think that I’m making careful choices, getting classics that last as long as anything meant for a baby can last, and really, when these are the shoe options, it really does take some consideration, no?)
These are her current shoes. They're super cute, but buying a secoind pair in a bigger size? Kind of kill-joy.
I think these are the first choice.
But these are so cute!
And so are these... but what about when she wears blue socks?
And these. I love these too. But I'm only getting her ONE pair. So. It needs mulling.
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But I digress. As I was walking out, I noticed G Diapers! And I bought some! And I’m still so excited! And they’ve done well through the first bum change... time will tell how the nap stands up. And they’re so cute – vanilla or orange are the two colors. And they’re more expensive than disposables, but the biodegrade in 50 - 150 days. Or you can flush them! I don’t know if I ever will, but simply the concept is super exciting!
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Some history – several of the blogs I read have mentioned that they lurve G-diapers. They’re cotton knit diapers, with disposable, completely bio-degradable inserts that tuck into a plastic-pant middle layer. So, the best of the fabric world & the disposable world (re-usuable, easy to use & portable) neatly miss the worst of the fabric & disposable world (handling poo & buckets of bleach & having diapers sit in the landfills for hundreds of years. I read up on them about 6 weeks ago, & even priced them out. They seemed affordable UNTIL you plopped the cross-border shipping on. *Sigh*, I though, no environmental consciousness for you.

But here we are! All gDiapered up! HUzzah! Here's the website - I'll post pics of her cuteness's butt later. http://www.gdiapers.com/

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And really, that’s all. I’m going to go & put Amoryn down for her morning nap, have a shower, & play with my new eyeshadow from Sephora.**
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*-Although, now I am waffling on the jeans, I may exchange them for the second choice pair that didn’t make my butt look quite as fantastic, were $20 cheaper, more comfortable, but a final sale. Solo shopping makes me veer away from final sale items!
** - Okay, a total luxury, I admit it. But very sparkly & pretty!

Merry Xmas, Baby

It was a lovely Xmas. It was calm, it was serene, there was minimal shrieking*. The turkey cooked in 3 1/2 hours and was sublime. Everybody loved their presents. Amoryn went swinging, and wore her little party dress, & loves her alphabet blocks.

I only had one ethical dilemma... is it okay to base a relationship on a single article of clothing? I mean, it is Xmas, which means that consumerism is king. But it's Christmas, which means that we're supposed to love one another for higher, spiritual reasons.

These tights are so damn cute. They kind of are why I had a baby, sort of... just a little bit.

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Or, more precisely, when I was a single girl in my verrrry early 20's, they are why I thought it ould be fun to have a baby, someday, like waaaaaaay in the future.

*- Mostly heard over the phone - there was a rousing game of something going on in the background at mom's.

Oh thank goodness.

Xmas is almost here, and we’ve already had four informal Xmases – the man’s family, my dad & stepmom, my mom & stepdad, & last night, the aunties. This is part of the reason why I haven’t updated in a while. The other reason is that I’m still trying to sort out working/baby time/housekeeping/grocery shopping. More challenging than it sounds.
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Speaking of challenges, part of the reason I’m so glad to have had so many early Xmases is that I no longer have to keep the gifty secrets! I can let out that big old helium-balloon breath & squeal* “I got you a teapot! And I got you a makeup box! And we (family & friends) got you a painting! And I got you a ... Wait. You don’t get to open that until Xmas day.” Only one present was discovered ahead of time, & really, it’s not my fault that Sarah Googled her name. Couldn’t be helped. There are still a couple secrets left… and a lot of chocolates. All in all, a nice blend.
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My birthday was very nice – it really was. The man took me out for a snazzy supper that I quite enjoyed – although I wonder what Dad would make of a meal that offered a $49 elk chop. We also went out shopping – and bought a giant pile of toys that we donated. A very fun gift. Because of the traveling & the schedules, it seems like a birth-week – a present every day or two – and that’s quite all right too!
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And now, I should buckle down & get to work. Because that’s what then internet is for, you know, working, not reading blogs or sending emails or shopping for yarn. Hahh, as Amoryn would say. If I don’t post again before Xmas, I hope that you have a lovely couple days!


*Or I could. I usually don’t.

Surprise!

Yup. Xmas is coming & there are all sorts of surprises in the works... this is what you'd get if I were to write about it all...

So, I've called ___________ about the ________ for _________, but they haven't called back yet. Also, the ________ for _________ is a bit irritating because _________. But it's fine really, & the _________ for _______ is really going to rock. And I know _____ is going to dig the ______.

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In other surprise news, it's Coreen's birthday today! And we're going to Tubby Dog, then Dairy Queen to celebrate. She recently surprised the hell out of Sarah & I (& Pat too) by being genuinely pregnant, & not just pulling our leg. I know, we are idiots. It only took how many weeks for us to figure out that she really really was & really really meant it? At any rate, the babe is due in mid June or so, to be oo-ed & ah-ed over by his (admittedly dense) aunties.

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And what else is surprising... as I drove to the mall & back today, I kept squinting at the sun & the sky & the snow on the ground, & feeling vaguely surprised by the dazzle of it all.

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While I'm logged in & working remotely, I occasionally turn my computer program into Russian. This is always an (unpleasant) surprise. Dosvedanya, my arse.

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And... um. That's really all I've got. There's still a tiny amount of ice cream in the freezer, which is a bit of a shock, but not really when you look at the giant bowl of peanut m&ms on the coffee table.* The m&m's are so much more instant gratification.

Well, I'm going to go & keep on keepin' on. You too, eh?

*-the man's fault. Had to do with the Grey Cup, will explain more later.

Live Blogging Coverage of the Grey Cup. And whatever else I’m watching.

2:00 pm – Amoryn goes down for her nap. I turn to channel 43, CSI. Then I turn to 209, pre-game coverage. As I suspected, there’s been a murder, & the Riders & the Bombers are going to be playing in a while.

3:10 pm – I wake up from my nap. There’s been another murder in Las Vegas. The hype is increasing for the game, which is still featuring the Riders & the Bombers. Weirdly enough, the Riders seem to be favored. I’m trying not to take it as a bad omen.

3:50 pm – Game is almost ready to go. Introduced both teams & the refs. The jig is almost up for Karl, who had to kill the girl, because she was going to call the cops, then Karl would’ve been fingered for murdering buddy in the slum building.

3:58 pm – Karl’s wife tells him to leave. Not bad timing – just before the cops arrive. National anthem is being sung in both languages – I could swear the one word was going to be tabernac, but it was tabernuuusomething else.

4:00 pm – marching band exits, team captains & premiers make their way to center field. Karl gave himself up to save his family. Out in the desert, they’ve found something suspicious… a body! Murder again. Saskatchewan will receive the start. Amoryn should likely be waking up soon – but she had a short, restless night & a small morning nap, so I’ll give her another 15 minutes. Ooo, So You Think You Can Dance is on too. Maybe after CSI has wrapped up for the day I’ll watch that & the game…

4:13 pm – noticed cell phone is on silent and I missed three texts – two pics of a very happy man in green, & an invitation for brekky with Coreen L No score yet, 11:54 left in the first. I’ve seen the SYTYCD, back to CSI. They’ve ID’d the body.

4:58 pm – Well. The murder is quite strange. My daughter is quite funny. The game is at WPG 5, SSK 0, 9:09 2nd Qtr.

5:25 pm – Amoryn’s had her bottle, the game is tied at 7, almost half-time. And… there’s been a murder! A body in a chimney! Dun-dun-dunnnnn…. Another mystery: what to have for supper.

6:07 pm – A murder, but I know who dunnit. I also know what Amoryn had for supper, & the score – SSK10, WPG7. And I’m going to find out where some studs in the wall are… so that I can mount the baby gate.

6:48 pm – Lower baby gate – installed. Upstairs baby gate – marked & mulling. The pony wall is 3/4” out over about 18”. Not square, and not looking too stable for the square gate. I think we’re going to need to shim it…. The game is still underway, 4th Qtr just beginning, SSK 16, WPG 14. I can practically feel the man’s nerves from here… For the flip side, since I know that the second murder was an arranged suicide, I think we’re going to opt for the Wedding Planner. And soon, we’ll be opting for a sleeper & a bottle.

7:20 pm – Am’s getting some air on her bum; there’s less than three minutes in the game, & the score is 23-18 for Saskatchewan! OMG! Also, Sarah will be here shortly with the pizza. Also exciting.

7:32 pm – 6 seconds! It’s our game! We won! It’s ours! YEAHAAAOOOOOOOGORIDERS!!! Also, now Amoryn can change out of her “S” onesie & into her sleeper for her bottle & then bedtime.

Busy Week

So, we survived the Fat weekend, & I think by Thursday I finally recovered from my sugar hangover.

Of course, last night Sar & I walked to the gas station & bought three kinds of Ben & Jerry's ice cream - although she took one of them home. (But my folks were here! And we needed dessert!)

And the man went to Florida today.

This means that I'm left alone - unsupervised - with the ice cream. (Amoryn does not qualify as a supervisor of ice cream yet. She has to be big enough to eat it first.)

So, to try & distract myself, I'm watching the CFL Western Semifinal.

Yes, I am thinking about ice cream very much, thank you.

And Amoryn is thinking about bedtime... loudly. Stay tuned to see what develops!

Oh yeah, baby, it's all about the action.

Hott oven action, to be precise. It's the annual Get Fat weekend, wherein Sar & I bake our arses off. I don't know why, but the Fat Weekend makes me want to use spam email descriptions... h0tt 0ven acti0n... d1rty spatulas l00k1ng for 1c1ng... r0ll y0ur d0ugh thinNER...

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Or to Martha-isms... It's a good thing, a very good thing.

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Day One: A slow start, although Am was up at 7:30... Sar made a triple batch of gingerbread dough last night, & I rolled & baked 2/3rds of it this morning. Sar, Kathy & their baking supplies & Kitchen-Aid rolled in around noon or so. I made spinach artichoke dip, which I was disappointed in, Sar made gingersnap dough, which is still chilling, I made cheesy crunchies, Sar made chocolate chip cookies & a shortbread thing, I made mushroom caps (also disappointing), Sar made a tasty chorizo sausage sauce for supper, and we all made a mess while we decorated cookies & tried to build gingerbread houses. The "we" included a houseful of fun guests. The cookies are splendid, & it will be criminal to eat them & destroy such lovely little creations. They ranged from the motivational to the comical to the artistic. (Scatalogical will likely be visited tomorrow when Brian & Adam lay hands on the icing tubes.) The gingerbread houses weren't a raving success due to icing issues, but I persevered, and created a tableau I've named "Post Apocalyptic Vignette". The houses will improve because we're planning to try the royal icing. We watched Hot Fuzz after supper, & it was awesome. Yarrp.

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Not the most productive day ever, but Sarah & I both agreed that it was very fun & relaxing. Stay tuned for day two, featuring a lot more cookies, some phyllo mini-quiches, icing, & fun!!

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(On Monday or Tuesday, I'll post complete fat weekend images.)

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I'm beat like egg whites, & off for an early bed. It'll be a batter day tomorrow! (Yolk, yolk, yolk.) (You know I'm tired when I indulge my taste for awful puns.)

It's Friday!

And I am feeling so much better today. More balanced. Still tired, but not blue.

Part of an email Sarah sent me yesterday inspired this whimsy in my head...

Perking interviewer in pink:"Hi! You're tuned in to Myth Information News, with the hottest gossip on the gods & goddesses! I'm Pippin, & I'm here today interviewing the fabulous Thelxiepeia, one of the Sirens. She's well known for many things, ranging from luring sailors to their doom to... luring sailors to their doom! Hi Thelxiepeia!"

Thelxiepeia:"Hi Sparky. You can just call me Thelxy."

Pip:"Thelxy, we're hear today to hear about your take on motherhood - tell us about it!"

T:"Well, I never really thought that much about it. But I was chatting with Tethys one day, & she really illuminated how much having Oceanids to love & nurture really gave her life meaning. And then I saw Odysseus and some of his sailors go by... and I thought why not give it a try? So, about six months ago, I had a little nymph of my own." (beams)

Pip:"So, Sirens don't have to be..." (delicate pause)

T:(laughing) "No, no - no celibacy. We're not Vestals!"

Pip:(chuckle)"So, now that you're grounded for a while..."

T:"Yes, until the little one grows wings & gills...."

Pip:"How are you finding things? Are you bored? Do you miss the drama? The excitement?"

T:"Well, you know, I sort of do. All those sailors shrieking & the ships hull's breaking up... it was a cracking good time. But there's always another ship to sink, and this is wonderful too. There's nothing like listening to my little nymph trying to learn to sing - she's so sweet! She'll only be this small once, you know."

Pip: (nodding) "True! They don't stay wee forever! So how was labour? Your figure looks fantastic. Miracle crash diet? Surgery?"

T:"No, no, not at all... actually, little known fact: sirens lay eggs. So really, the whole experience has been a marvel. No work at all."

Pip:"Fabulous! Lucky you!... And I hear that you're planning on returning to work... when? And do you worry about your career at all?"

T:"Well, as I mentioned, I have to wait for my nymph to grow wings & gills. So it'll be a little while yet. Honestly, I was concerned about keeping my skills up while I was grounded with the little one... but as it turns out, I am using my talents quite a bit, just to get my little nymph to eat her broccoli! I'm going to be back, & better than ever when I return. Sailors fearing death have nothing on a child refusing her veg."

Pip:(trilling laughter)"Well, that's fabulous! We're so glad to hear it, & I think I speak for all of Ancient Greece when I say that I hope things keep going super & that you're back on the ship-wreck beat in no time!"

T:"Thanks Pippin, it's been a treat to speak with you & Myth Information News... it's one of my favorite shows."

Pip:"Fabulous!!!"

(fade to commercial)