If you visit regularly and have never said hello, well, you should. I get curious about repeat visitors from places like Levittown, Penn., or say, the United Kingdom. I just get curious, and I mean, come on, I admit things like what I'm about to admit in the next paragraph. You can at least return the favor a little.


I actually PURCHASED a Guns N' Roses video that arrived yesterday. This can be blamed on SGH's reference to the band a while back and also on my obsession with yet another dead guy -- Shannon Hoon who sings back-up and appears in this making of the "Don't Cry" video.


I watched all 60 minutes last night before I went to bed. B will definitely give me hell once he finds out we own it. And that it's currently in the player in our bedroom. And that I watched it all alone last night. Yes, he will give me hell.

His first word beyond the standard Mama, Dada, and Bye? My money's on JoJo. He already makes the J sound twice when it comes on in the mornings.


Though he can't say "The Wiggles" yet, he signs when he wants to watch them. Seriously. Hands up, hands down! Hands up, hand down! When you see him walking around imitating Wayne's World's "We're not worthy!," rest assured he's only telling me, "Woman, turn on my Wiggles video NOW."


Personally, I prefer Charlie & Lola. I relate to Lola and her stubbornness. For examples see "I will not EVER, NEVER eat that lunch" and "I can do anything and EVERYTHING there is to do ON MY OWN." My sentiments exactly, thank you very much.

I am thankful for:


-- My job and the fact that I enjoy this new position I stepped into three-and-a-half months ago

-- A lesser bout of seasonal depression than in years past (particularly in spite of all that's going on right now)

-- That my mother quit smoking nearly two months ago

-- General good fortune

-- Great friends

-- Better dog-children

-- Supportive family

-- A courageous husband

-- The Sunshine

-- Vacation = another short week next week (though I enjoy work, naturally I prefer time with The Sunshine over it)


Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving. Things are good.

May he rest in peace.

The old deck out back looks rickety but is really quite stable. I like sitting on it in the evenings, after The Sunshine has set for the evening. Most times, when I see the light shining through the window from the office, B is in there playing on the computer. It's no surprise that when I went to the deck and noticed the light tonight that I immediately thought of him in that room, which in a way is his room; I had just accidentally left the light on (surprising since I'm OC about switching things off).


The boy is growing up so fast. They say that all the time, that they "grow up so fast." Apparently, he's learned how to grab another by the shirt and elbow him if he's angry. I'm not sure how or where he learned that, but they say that happens, too, that they'll do or say something that you've never taught them, and you'll wonder where they learned it.


Lately he's been reluctant to let me rock him to sleep, which was the only way he used to even go to sleep. He doesn't fight me (or grab my shirt and elbow me), but he just keeps playing games -- here, mom, take-the-pacifier-in-your-mouth games. He just won't go to sleep. But he lets me put him in his crib, and he plays for a while before falling to sleep on his own. He really is growing up so fast. Before you know it, I'll no longer have a baby. I'll have a real boy (Pinnochio); I'll have a kid. I'll probably love him 10,000 times more by then, and I don't even know how that's possible.

This week, I'm making out with Wednesday. I'm just that way.

So I guess I'm a bitch, especially if you're sleeping with my very close friend after dumping her ass in the most serious way someone can be dumped. Sorry if I no longer feel that I can confide in you. It's really very tragic.


I will write this on my blog if I want to -- even if your buddy, whom I was dumb enough to sleep with years ago, reads it -- because I'm a classless bitch, yes this is why.


I'm caught with my pants down, my maturity gone, and my emotions high. You have my naked photograph now, so do with it what you will. Everyone's looking for a good show anyway.

Flying with a one-year-old is not easy.


"M'am, he really needs to stay in your lap until the fasten seatbelt sign goes off."


Um, OK, I will force him to stay in my lap and you will be punished by piercing screeches. He is not a brat; he is 12 months old though.


Once the seatbelt sign goes off, he will play the Take-Everything-Out-of-Mom's-Bag game on the floor of the plane. Book out, purse out, diapers out, animal crackers out -- oh wait, animal crackers. I want those, open those. The book now goes back in the bag, the purse goes back in, too. We must clap hooray after each item is placed back in the bag. This game really is not so bad. It's more fun than the Don't-Touch-That-Nice-Man's-ipod game.


Our next flight, next month, will be longer but atleast B will be with me and can help. I'm also considering breaking out the Benadryl.

Care, don't care; care, don't care; care, don't care.


Me and the sunshine are flying to San Antonio Sunday -- a daytrip that will make for a very short and hectic weekend. Saturday I really need to go and have his one-year portrait taken. I'm a little late on that, and I still have a couple of thank you cards to send for birthday gifts, but really, I'm kicking ass, so I can't complain.


Tomorrow is Friday, and I love Fridays. I want to make out with them.

I had fever for four days straight. I really shouldn't have been in the office working Friday, but there was so much to do since my cohort was out last week. I was fine as long as I popped Advil every four hours to keep my fever down.


Saturday was the first day I didn't have any fever and actually had some energy, which was good for the weekend and the boy. I'm sort of on solo duty for a while because Brian's out of town. Taking care of a little one alone and trying to get out the door in the morning has been challenging, but what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? I think this added load has sort of inspired me or something though because I feel really good and not all overwhelmed. I feel like I'm training for a marathon. It's tough but rewarding, and I am getting stronger.


I've got 100 random thoughts running through my head, and they're all supposed to be separate posts, but I'll just spaz them out with my fingers in this one.


While driving into work and listening to a CD that I thought was total garbage two days after purchasing it eight or so months ago, I found myself replaying one of the songs over and over. And over and over, and I listened, hit repeat, loved the words, learned the words, all because this song, these lyrics, made me think of someone.


In my head the most cheesy, top-40 DJ voice said, "This song goes out to someone special." And you laughed and you said, "damn this artist" for that stupid song that you thought you liked for two days that is actually so juvenille and Tony Basil-like and shit. Damn you, you crazy frickin' running machine; it isn't always a marathon. Try the bike, get an iPod and listen no matter the time. Perhaps then you won't be stuck with Rumbly in my Tumbly in your head.


The thing is, both songs make me happy and Rumbly in my Tumbly makes me think of someone special, too. So what if I'm a little obsessive in my behavior. Want to hear No. 4 again?

It's been hard to post for a number of reasons -- one being that nothing will make me as happy coming to this page as the previous post with the photos of the sunshine. Another reason being that I've been sick since I woke up Tuesday, and probably before that. In retrospect I can see how it came on, starting with headaches the second half of last week. Incidentally, the sunshine carries lots of germy germs and he passed them to me. The doc says I have strep throat, but I think it's on its way out now that I'm taking antibiotics.


Also, don't ever take Theraflu on an empty stomach before bed. You won't sleep and since you've not eaten, you'll likely start to dry-heave around 3 a.m.