Slowly, so as not to frighten the touchy fella, I am trying to eek my way back into the land of blog. (can you feel the echo?) We've been in the midst of what most new parents know as Terrors of deh Tiny Teefs. Dem teefs; so tiny, yet so terrible. So terrible, I had to write a terrible haiku.
Ode to dem terrible teefs:
I see tiny buds
on the gums of my daughter.
and the baby's crying. An unfinished haiku- oh the craptasticness of it all! If you haven't guessed already, this is just one of the many irritating parts of parenthood. I just wanna post! But she wins, afterall.
dangit.
hello, blog. I am not dead. I am visiting a friend of mine, who's got too much on her plate for blogging these days. Ok, the friend is me, but it's ok cause she's taking good care of things. I guess all the brilliant post ideas I've written in my head over the past, ohh, thirty days, will just have to keep bumping around in thars.
siiiiiiiiigh. eventually I will return to new-post land. GAh.
Happy Spring!
http://whatiwore2day.blogspot.com/
It's ridiculous, but I cannot deny the urge to see what this woman wears to work every day. Try to resist.
Seriously. You can't!
I'm sitting in this industrial park where I've had to pull over to feed a squalling Tabby en route to the recycling center. Thinking about how badly I have to pee and somehow beginning to picture how guys must be able to go in an empty soda bottle while driving, not having to stop like us squatters. Frustrated. Retaliatory feelings. This reminds me of how I had, on occasion, made use of a cup in the darkness of the kitchen after making love and creeping out of the bedroom to discover the occupied bathroom. I remember the silliness of one particular night, feeling so deliciously devious and confident in my nakedness and sullying a coffee mug. :D
I just got an email from SANS for more banner work. YEEHAR! Put it out there and it will come to you. Dang I love life.
Gah, I forgot to mention a few things- Tabs and I are going to start learning French this morning, with our Instant Immersion French cds. (It's my selfish way of ensuring she's ok for language-learning later.) We'll see how infant-friendly they are, and how much French I can learn in about seven minutes.
If this doesn't work, or frustrates one of us to tears, we'll try the dvd's at little pim.
Also, went on my morning walk with renewed vigor today, due to the wonderful weight surprise I got this weekend. Even though it was drizzling, I bundled up the babe, hauled out the gigando stroller and saddled up the pup. Woohoo! I'm sure there were plenty of old folks from the 'adult living' apartment complex glaring out their windows, asses twitching all the while, "look at that mother drag her poor baby out in the rain." Oh, fuck 'em. they don't have twenty pounds to lose. ;D
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Tabby wanted to type, my time here is short.
When we got back, I tried my hand again at a healthful and good protein shake that included all the ooky things I"m suppsed to take on a daily basis. Ingreds as follows:
peanut butter
frozen banana
tbs cod liver oil
1/8 cup coconut oil
yogurt
heavy cream
maple syrup
1/8 cup prune juice (gotta manage the output, ladies.)
uhhhhhhh
couple of ice cubes.
Results? Pretty darn good. I forgot to put the whey in it. Phonanny. New and interesting one to come tomorrow? Prolly. If I can keep little fingers from the keyboard!!
Don't you just love it when you can remember something important? I was just getting some musica rolling for my blogging fun this morning and wanted to find this site that had some streaming songs that just kicked booty, but I could only recall what it looked like. I know you know what I'm talking about- like you can see it in your mind's eye, but it's got a coupla layers of gauzy stuff over it. I just looooove it when I can delve into my mind, slowly so as not to startle the big fella, and gently pull off the layers, one by one, until I figure out what the hell is the answer. Honestly, it makes me feel like I've not just had a baby and thus removed the pink rubbery thing in my skull. :)
Gah, anyway, the site is Cake on the Brain, found on tastespotting during a nice search for rice pudding, and the music thang at the right toward the bottom is a fabalous Sonific Songspot. I'm checking into the site, which is sonific.com if you want to check it out, too. If you happen to hear music next time you're reading my torrid secrets, you'll know I figured it out. :D If not, hell, maybe vox just doesn't allow that sort of thing. (or I just couldn't figure it out, ner) The song that really got me was Straighten Up And Fly Right by Nat King Cole, who else? Damn, what a frigging genius. It just gets you jumping.
So, back to the subject of this post, another topic of dissension is the milkmaids. I grew up in a family of women with boobs. And I mean they had boobs, the double letter kind. Since I couldn't really represent, I brought up the rear, if you know what I'm saying. Itty bitty titty committee, maybe, but I had an ass like an onion. [makes your eyes water, ha] But now that I've had a baby, they've totally traded places. Blow-up doll on top and a butt that's just not so gloriously high and tight anymore. I need to keep exercising, which will help, but now that I'm a little top-heavy it's just not the same. Sigh.
Most likely, part of it is that I'm just not used to them. Once I figure this new body out, once it stops changing so darn much, I'm sure I'll feel much more comfortable in my skin. :D
okee, so I was secretly wishing that when I finally did step on the scale that it would say 186, which is five pounds down from my last weigh-in, or 191 for those of you who don't get along with addition. [subtraction?]
but it was 183, baby! and holy crap, was I surprised! I guess those longer walks with the dog and wee bairn were working more than just the infant-sedative mojo. :D
And, of course, speaking of losing weight, now it's dinner time. Heh. We took advantage of the budget-friendly 'buy two get one free' deal at our favorite pork vendor from the Farmers Market, Papa Weaver, nabbing three sets of pork ribs. I've never had this particular cut of pig, and was mighty dubious. Then, my fricking awesome husband found this recipe on MarthaStewart so we could grillum up right. And now, I'm telling you, pork spare ribs + martha's genius = orgasmic meat! All carmelly and crunchy and friggin' falling off the bone. Hnnmmmm, orgasmic meat! I'll have five!
saturday greetins', folks!
I'm at the in-laws with husselband and bebe in tow and we are attacking the basement with maniacal glee. Sort of. We've just about emptied one gigando room and are steadily working our way to the other four semi-gigando rooms. ahhh, ancient boxes of bills from 1981. seriously. It's really sooo sooo much fun to go through other people's shit! Especially when those 'other people' are your in-laws! Hoowah.
Not much to post on today. You know those people who weigh themselves every honking day? I'm not one of those. In fact, I don't really care how much I weigh, it's more along the lines of how much I don't fit in my clothes. ;) Holla if you hear me.
So, you can imagine my dismay to suddenly find myself wanting to hop on the scale in my MIL's bathroom every weekend. Please note that I'm a member of this weigh-in troupe my extended family has started to keep everyone honest and on the path to lighteousness. [hehe] It's supposed to be a support group of sorts so that we can all stay on track. Yay, right? Weeeel, no. because now I want to know what the dreaded number is, dangit. I can't decide if i should just go hop on and email it around? Or if I should kind of quit the group for now and ignore the scale, like I always used to do.
Of course, I always used to be skinny in an amazonian, we want snu snu, kind of way. I just feel that judgement, even in the form of the stoically mute and (sorry to say) deaf scale. Stupid scale! In that judgement, which is really in my head, I feel a nasty pressure to not eat whatever I want and start to watch nearly everything that goes in my mouth- which has the backwards effect of pissing me off and making me eat more of the white sugar and flour bad stuff.
Stupid bad stuff! If I ignored that shit [the scale's {my} judgement], then I could just move on and gradaually lighten my load instead of worrying the thing to death. Ack!
dangit. bebe cry, again!
let this be a lesson to all of you single, untethered women!!
ok, just kidding. but I gotta run!
