How are you? What's new with you? What's the best thing that happened to you today?
Me? I'm good. I did not get a speeding ticket yesterday. I did this by not speeding. Duh. I didn't see the copolice hiding behind the sign, and then I was automatically afraid I was speeding, even though I hardly ever do, and then he pulled out, and I was all "Oh Shit", and then he pulled somebody else over. I felt so smug. I was all "Ha! Take THAT for Speeding! Yeah! Bet you wish you weren't all up in my business now!" because when you don't speed, everyone passes you and you begin to feel like they're all commenting on you somehow. Ok, so maybe it's just me.
Apparently clothes take away the Bean's superpowers or something. Like, if cloth touches her skin she'll melt. Some kind of Samson-esque thing, with the addition of clothing = the cutting of hair. She's convinced, at any rate, because the worst tantrums for the past few days have been over clothing and diapers. Usually I just give up and let her run around butt naked. Of course, hilarity ensues because she isn't potty trained. Yesterday she comes up to me saying "Butt?" and holds out a hand full of turd. I shriek "Uk!", to which she replies "Uk!" and drops it, splat. I laughed good and hard at that. No really, I did. It was funny. Last night and today she's decided a better idea is to poop in the diaper, then take the diaper off and bring the whole mess to the grown up in charge. Hilarity, folks, hilarity! It's like Easter, only the eggs aren't chocolate.
I miss my husband. I know he's around here somewhere. I've been carting the Boy to acting rehearsals and what have you, and he's been home finding those special eggs. It's funny, because it's not like we've spent That much time apart, it's only been, maybe, three days this week, but it feels like much much more. I love him and I miss him.
My little baby sleeps with her feet in the air, like this:
I ask you, how?
It is warming up here in New York. I'm still wearing sweaters, but I usually do that till about 75 degrees. I'm just pleased there's no snow.
Die, snow, die! Hahahaha! You've melted! I fart in your general direction!
I FEEL MUCH BETTER NOW, THANKS
Tomorrow we're going to be drinking margaritas in celebration. Simon has made a bet with Boy that he can get me to eat the worm. He can't believe I've made it this far in life wormless. He says three drinks and the money is his. I say, I can't have three drinks, I'm nursing, and even if it were thirty drinks I still wouldn't eat the worm. The bottle says the worm is there because it's traditional blah blah the worm is a key blah blah blah something something it's not there for looks. It does not say "Super tasty! Doesn't even crunch like bug! Yum!" I say it's there because a bunch of Mexicans are chopping agave and thinking "The sun sure is hot, and these things are prickly, but at least I can get a chuckle out of the notion that some drunk idiot gringos actually eat these nasty ass grub bugs". I refuse to be pwned thus.
Imagining how hard it is to get those little pincher things out from between your teeth, whilst apologizing for the randomness and atrocious run-on sentences,