Picture This

Ok, because I'm cheap, I decided to take Tom's "formal" 6 month shot myself. Here are the finalists, but I need you to help me decide which one to print to send to the grandparents.

Photo A: A serious Tom















Photo B: What's that, over there?

Photo C: Rubber Ducky, you're the one ...


Photo D: I've got my Ducks in a row


















Please leave your vote in comments if you have an opinion. Thanks for your help!

Beads

Until about two minutes ago, I was wearing a lovely, green, three-strand beaded necklace. It had a strand of green freshwater pearls, a strand of larger, mottled green stones, and a strand of tiny, jade-like beads. It was a much appreciated Christmas gift from my sister.

This necklace was strung on very thin steel cable, so I didn't mind if Tom wanted to shake the heck out of it while nursing. After all, it's not like he can bend steel, right?

SNAP. POP. Popopopopopop - ping! That's the sound of my big bruiser ripping the steel wire from its anchor and the soft patter of beads raining onto the floor.

Now there are about three bazillion little green beads on my office floor, and I need to find each and every one of them before Tom does. What makes this scavenger hunt even more fun is that my office is carpeted in that mulit-colored industrial carpeting designed to hide dirt, and, apparently, little green beads. The suckers are invisible.

ARRRGH.

Just Because

No, it's not my anniversary. I'm posting these just because I happen to have access to a scanner, and I feel like it.

This is me and my best bud, Jules.
















And my dress ... my big, fluffy, princess dress.
















And my daddy ...















And the kiss. I was impressed the photographer got this picture, as we had said NO FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY during the ceremony. He did a great job, even without a flash.















That's it. Thanks for stopping by.

Not at all what I expected

I had a flash this afternoon, as I was standing at the sink washing dishes and listening to Super-Hubby tickle Tommy in the living room. My son's laughter bounced around the room and ricocheted off the light fixtures and I thought, "This is not at all what I had expected."

I really have no idea what I expected parenthood to be, but I suspect that I expected it to be a fairly solitary adventure, just me and baby, with daddy being more or less in the background. Not because I thought Super-Hubby would be bad with the children, but because the only child-watching experience I have is as a babysitter and as a nanny - both occupations where you are alone with children. It didn't even occur to me that there would be times - like when I was up to my elbows in hot, soapy water - that Super-Hubby would take over the child rearing. Or maybe it did, in theory. Maybe I just didn't expect to get such a kick out of it.

There is something magical about working in tandem with my husband to raise our son, to build our family. I was doing chores, but I was completely at peace. I loved listening to Super-Hubby do his Elmo impression. I loved listening to Tom giggle and shriek. Lovely.

How to know when you've been on the Internet too long

You know how some message boards have a little tracker next to your name that says "this is your 374th post to this board"?

I think I need a little ticker that says "You have just changed your 500th poopy diaper this year. Hoorah!"

Yeah, my life is just that exciting.

But wait - really, I have about 30 posts started, including one about Otto Titslinger and his famous invention. You really don't wanna miss that one, do you?

If not, click your heels together three times and say "there's no peace like when a baby is sleeping, there's no peace like when a baby is sleeping, there's no peace ..." and so on.

Maybe it will work. Maybe I will post.

And the truth is ...

#1. I really went to Oxford. I got good marks, but it kicked my butt.

The others are various shade of the truth.

#2. I don't particularly like calamari, but I don't hate it either.

#3. Nope, not model material, but thanks to those of you who thought so ;)

#4. Nope, love snakes. I think they are really cool. I used to have a "pet" blacksnake when I was a child. Her name was Charlie, and she was about six feet long.

#5. Really, really didn't like Venice at all. It was dirty and creepy. But Rome is great.

Thanks for playing!

Lies and Lying Liars

Whoo hoo, I've been tagged! (Sort of). Thanks Kathryn, for thinking of me. I will lie my heart out now.

Here's the game. Four of these statements are false, one is true. Can you spot the truth when confronted with lies? Leave me a note in my comments with your guess. I will post the truth tomorrow. Or possibly this evening. We'll see.

1. I am the only student from my college to ever have been accepted to Oxford University. I studied there for seven months. While there I encountered the crown prince of Bahrain and Chelesa Clinton. (Not together.)

2. My favorite food is calamari.

3. When I was 15 I was offered a modeling job that involved travel to Florida, but I declined it because I didn't want to go without my parents.

4. I am deathly afriad of snakes.

5. Venice, Italy is my favorite city in the whole world. I just love all the carnival masks and mystery of the city of canals.

I am not much for tagging people with these things, but here are some people I'd love to read lies about:

J-Tron
Jess
Stephanie

Back in the saddle again

My sister called yesterday, and said "Post something on the damn blog already!" I guess I've been away too long. I have a lot of things to write about, but I've been a little gun shy lately. One of my biggest faults is my inability to handle criticism well. Time and again I've let someone's unkind or thoughtless words destroy my artistic ambitions, instead of just brushing the comments off and going on my own way. I am trying very hard not to do that here. So, that said, I guess it's time to get back on the old proverbial horse (to mix my metaphors.)

A friend of ours is getting married on the 18th, and I recently received a wonderful email from her. Super-Hubby and I were the first of our friends to get married. In fact, the ink on our college diplomas was practically still wet. Now, three-and-a-half years later, our friends are finally catching up to us. A couple have already gotten married, a few more are planning weddings in 2006. It is really fun to watch everyone walking down the aisle, but it makes me feel old.

Jenn's email, though, made me feel ever so much better. It's nice that in a culture where "starter" marriages are de rigueur, Super-Hubby and I trying very hard to redefine what marriage means. It is more than just two people living together and sharing groceries together. It is a daily commitment to love, to honor, to cherish and to support your partner in all things. We do this for ourselves, not for our friends, but it surprised and pleased me that at least one of our friends has noticed.

Jenn wrote:

Watching and hearing about your relationship in college was truly a joy. What you both have is so real, it's palpable to those around you, and that is what I would like my marriage to do and be--the kind of love that makes those around it also feel loved and loving, one of those oasises in the world where the world makes a bit more sense, feels more right and safe and accepting and understanding. A little window to a world where people accept each other as they are and love and celebrate each other for exactly who they are. I have no illusions that marriage isn't work, I know it is, but it helps enormously if you can radiate that pure joy of love and dedication that I think you and Mike do. So, thank you for that.

We are so excited to dance at your wedding, Jenn. Many blessings to you and yours.

Bruce

His name was Bruce, and he was wearing a dress.

Well, not a dress, per se. It was more of an ivory chiffon skirt-and-woman's blouse ensemble, complete with stockings and a lovely turquoise necklace and matching earrings. Picture Tim Curry, with long scraggly hair, lipstick, blue eyeshadow and a dress, and you have a pretty accurate picture of Bruce. Only Bruce is about 6' 4". I don't know how tall Tim Curry is.

Bruce was my partner at a local contra dance that my friend Jen and I went to on Saturday. If you've never heard of contra dancing it's sort of square-dancing meets old-fashioned formal line dances, such as the Viennese Waltz. (Think of the ball room scene from The Sound of Music, but put everyone in really ugly/weird-looking clothes.) The dances generally feature live musicians and a caller. You don't need to know anyone there to enjoy yourself, and you switch partners after every dance.

Anyhow, Jen and I showed up to the dance, and as I was taking off my coat I noticed Bruce. "Is he wearing a ... dress?" I whispered to her. She responded that he was, indeed wearing women's clothing. She had danced with men in kilts before, but the chiffon skirt was new to her. "Unusual," she said.

We discussed the finer points of Bruce's apparel, then got down to the business of dancing. At one point, I ended up briefly partnering with Bruce during a dance. It was long enough for him to ask me for the next dance ... and really, how was I supposed to refuse? The thing about contra dancing is that you really don't dance all that much with your partner, because you are constantly moving up and down a line of people via various dance moves.

But Bruce was very nice. He had a very deep, masculine voice, and a five o'clock shadow. Broad shoulders and not much body fat. And pearly pink fingernail polish.

It was quite a night.

Fresh Bread

Just a quick note to say: I baked my very first loaf of yeast bread yesterday. And it actually turned out!

Thanks to The Fresh Loaf for tips and the recipe.

It came out somewhere between an Italian and French loaf - nice, crispy crust, but thick and chewy inside. And it was fun! Anyhow, enough about bread. It's boring. I have a much more interesting post about a guy in a dress I should be working on.