Why do babies catch colds?

So that, once they're better, you'll be giddy with glee they woke up at four in the morning.*

Ha. Ha.
ephelba

*That is, as opposed to 10:00, 12:00, 12:30, 12:33, 12:36**, 1:30, 2:00, 3:30, 4:30, 6:30 and 7:00.
**Three minutes being the time it takes to soothe a baby, assume she's gone back to sleep and get back in bed yourself.

Newspaper Bag Project

One of the blogs I like to read is written by Z, the very same Z who leaves comments here now and again. If you've got a moment, click through to see how to make shopping bags out of newspaper, like her son does in his greengrocer's shop.* Of course, I know all you guys already use reusable bags**, because you're cool like that, but it's good fun, especially if you've got kids. If you do make a bag and post a picture, tell 'em Z sent you, K?



TTFN,
ephelba

*I love reading the Z's blog because her world is so different from mine, and because she writes about it so well, and because I just do. Go on, go have a look at it.
**With the exception of the ones you keep in your pocket when you go for your evening walkies with the dog, because I also know you guys aren't the type to leave big steaming stinkers on the sidewalk either. I love you guys.

The Hadron Collider is On.

Did you notice the end of the world? Seems to be the same shit, different day over here. Apparently, now they're saying it will all go kerflooey in October. Can't say I'm worried. Seems like a good excuse to party though.

I'm slightly more worried about whether or not we'll be seeing house centipedes in these new digs. Every other house we've lived in has had them, and with all the spiders (their idea of a tasty lunch) here and the lovely wet basement (preferred digs) I can't imagine them skipping this shangri la. Don't know what a house centipede is? Aren't you lucky! Here is one for your screeching pleasure.
Now, imagine that two inches (just the body, not the legs and feelers and whatnot) long tearing across your floor and up your wall and under your bed. They are wicked fast. When they zoom along, they go with an amazing wave motion to their feathery legs, and when you smoosh one end the unsmooshed bits keep going. Bug websites say things like "Oh, they hunt bad bugs in your house! They nosh spiders! Isn't that great! You should love them! In Japan they keep them as pets!". All I have to say to that is that the people writing these articles have either never witnessed the terror, or they're bent.

The only thing that makes me hesitate when throwing shoes at them is the knowledge that they can live for years. If I swat a fly I don't feel bad because I couldn't have shortened its life span by more than a few weeks, but the thought that this might have lived for five years or more before I screamed at it does give me pause.

They always show up in the fall when their 30 tootsies get nippy outside. So I'll know soon. In the meantime I'll be happy watching the squirrels. There's a walnut tree right outside our window, and the dog and the babies just discovered the squirrel who likes to hang there.

Do you have a squirrel near your house? Does it quack? This one absolutely does. Sounds just like Donald Duck. It puts on quite the show for Lucy. Lucy stares with rigid determination. I am confident that she's trying to use telekinesis to bring the squirrel inside. This is much preferable to barking like a mad fool all day, which is what I'd thought she'd do when she noticed it.

We've also discovered a Big Bertha. A Big Bertha is the highly technical term for one of those barn spiders (Araneus cavaticus), the same kind of spider as the ever so famous Charlotte. Everywhere we've lived we've had one make her web (they're always a girl, doncha know) on or around our house. In every case, we've become sort of fond of her, and kept track of how she was doing. Every winter she goes away, but since we see one again the next late summer/fall, we tend to pretend it's the same one.

And on a note that has nothing whatsoever to do with creepy crawlies or atom smashers, Loon is still on track to take home a gorgeous baby girl tomorrow. It is, ummm, harrowing (?) to be in the no man's land between the birth of the baby and actual legal adoption of the baby. She's busy holding the baby today, and tomorrow she'll be busy bringing her home, but when she gets the time to post I'll to it.

Going to see if Betha's writing notes,
ephelba

For me, it's like this,

I'm going through stuff and bemoaning the fact that I've already given away the premie sizes, and where have the receiving blankets got to (?!??) and this isn't too grotty, is it, and can I afford to send this overnight and why don't we have a health food store in this town, honestly and shit if this doesn't go through and they're heart broken (again) and then this box turns up on the door step that will really, really, suck, like "Hello, painful reminder here." (sing to the tune of "Speedy Delivery) but then again, it's all stuff they'll need for the baby that they are going to mother when she does arrive, because it is going to happen and of course, there's no reason to think that this isn't the time it's going to happen. This is it. This baby is so going home with them and they're going to be up all night and if the Bean didn't have strep and I had gas money I would so be driving there because who is going to bake casseroles for them, dammit.

Imagine what it must be like for them.

Crossing my fingers till it hurts,
ephelba

Huh.

You're probably saying to yourself "She really isn't herself these days". I'm so not myself that I've turned into my son, and typed up a mess of silliness in the new post window. Then, I came to myself and hit publish, because I knew that I would embarrass myself a little if I did, and because I'm proud of how well I write.

If you can follow that, you're good.

What happened was, I was starting to write a post, then I had to get up, so Boy started typing in my absence, and I thought it was funny and hit PUBLISH POST, because I knew he'd be slightly mortified and slightly pleased.

I'll finish that other post later,
Have to wash some windows just now,
ephelba

Waiting.

Ahhh, the joys of a new house. New houses are a joy, in a joyful way. Many debate the exact extent to which a new house is joyful, but even these debates are joyful, in their own way. Alas, they are not new houses. To see a discussion board on the difference between new houses and debates, click here. In short, new houses are joyful, and I have big saggy boobs.