What You're Not Told

No one tells you when you're about to do something for the last time. There's no official notice just before the last time you breast feed your baby. They don't let you know that after a certain day, your daughter will be too big to cradle in your arms. The last bottle, the last jar of baby food, crawling, dressing your kid. It's all in your rear view mirror before you realize the last time is already complete. At least with Keira, it's only bittersweet. For each thing she stops doing, it's because she's now doing something new, and you get to celebrate all those new things. 

Yesterday, my Godmother passed away. The last time I saw her, I didn't know it would be the last time I saw her. I feel like I wish I'd known, but I don't know what I would have done, or said, differently. I don't know if that would have tainted the last visit. 

We were up to see my parents this fall and went over for a visit. Several of us went out on a quick boat ride. I remember watching her walking away from the dock as we set off, and thinking that I was glad she was there because she'd had a rough bout with cancer. Before we left, she gave me a quick tour around their house, which I'd not yet seen. I remember seeing a dressing table heavily adorned with wigs and hoping that she was almost ready to give them up. I gave her a big hug before we left. No one lets you know that it's the last one. 

You Know You Work for a Publishing Company...

when instead of this:
"There's a gold car in the back lot with the lights on."

The PA system announces:

"In the South-eastern parking lot, there is a champagne-colored, newer, Nissan Altima with the lights still on."

Email As Therapy

The photo, which is entirely unrelated to the email below, is one that I found months ago and have been looking for an excuse to share. The fact that I named this file hummingbird exam may explain why I felt that it belonged with this email.

It's been one of those days - no, make that weeks - wait, it's really been more like one of those months. You get the picture. Last week (if that tells you how long it's taken me to pull this post together) I got a handful of emails, all on the same day, that I just found therapeutic and I thought I would share the best bits.

From a NY Times book review:

That said, the many semi-clothed pictures of Borat and various friends, relatives and sex workers make this scabrous and occasionally hilarious book challenging to read in public. The captions don’t help. (One for a full-page picture of a shirtless, pantless Borat in a lime green scrotal sling reads, “For protection against sunburning I make rub squirrel cheese on my skins.”)

Any NY Times review that includes the words scrotal sling is inherently grin-inducing.

Next came a signature buried in an email forward I got. I know the person who sent the forward, but don't know the person who used this awful signature line - which greatly reduces the guilt I feel in mocking it senseless. Here's the surely well-meant signature line:

"But Thou, Oh Lord, Art A Shield For Me; My Glory, And The Lifter Of My Head!!"

Now, call me sacrilegious, but I'm not certain that I've ever required divine intervention to lift my own head. Possibly, it's just me.

Next, I was delighted to find that graft was still a publicly-sanctioned road to social change. In my neighborhood newsletter I read that:

This may bring to an end a series of efforts that began nearly six years ago. In 2002, the City of Indianapolis placed Indy East Motel on probation requiring the motel to submit to additional requirements. According to City officials, during the next five years, police had made over 900 runs including arrests for drugs and prostitution.

Your presents in the courtroom Friday would help illustrate that Irvington is serious about closing this business. We hope to see you Friday.

Outsmarted!

Q: What do you do when your toddler outwits your husband?
A: Laugh maniacally, then post about it on your blog so everyone can share in the fun. tee hee.
So, Chad and Keira love to wind each other up. That's nothing new. A week or so ago, Keira was singing the ABC song and at the end, sings "now I know my ABCs" when Chad jumps in with "No, they're my ABCs."

For several days, the two of them go back and forth with a mostly constant stream of "my ABCs," "no, my ABCs" and so on. Thanksgiving day, Chad starts in again. Keira marches into the kitchen, pulls two of her magnetic alphabet toys off of the fridge. She brings them into the dining room and in front of everyone says, "see, Daddy. They're my ABCs."   Point 1, Keira. 

Tonight, Chad thinks he's gotten one over on Keira. She'd taken two of the magnetic letters off the fridge and had left them in the living room. By way of asking Keira to put them back Chad says, "Hey, Keira, can you put my ABCs back on the fridge?" Keira takes them, pauses for a minute, then hands them back to Chad. As she does so, she replies "dey your ABCs, you put it back." Point two, Keira. If Daddy knows what's good for him, he'll stop while he's ahead.

Omnipotence and the Karma of Ewe

Ah, omnipotence. I am now all-knowing, at least, in the opinion of a certain two year old. And, woe be it to me if I don't have the answer. No, really, I am actually required to know the answer to any question that might happen to be raised, even if there's no bleeding way I have the foggiest clue.
Take our rides home for example. "Mommy, what's that mommy's name?" "Where's that guy going?" "What's in that truck?" And, if I admit ignorance she responds, "No, mommy, you tell me!" So, I make shit up. It's full of basketballs, the mommy's name is Ginger, and that guy is going to the podiatrist. Then I have to explain podiatrist.
Keira has also been honing her theories on cosmic justice. Keira and I were reading a book and we came to a page that describes sheep being sheared. Keira wanted to talk about what happens to the wool that they cut off of the sheep. After establishing that the wool was indeed something I knit with, Keira pounced on a prime teaching opportunity. With much clarifying of point and reviewing for comprehension, she was finally able to impart her lesson. While it was okay for me to knit with the sheep's yarn, when I was done playing with it, I had to knit something for the sheep to wear. See, the sheep was only sharing with me and I have to be a good sharer. Oh, and the sheep would be cold. {what is it with her and things getting cold?}

Voting As a Means of Maintaining a Democratic Society

Or, as Keira so eloquently put it on the way to the polling place on Tuesday:
"I don't want to go vote, mommy. I'd rather go skiing."

It's All Perspective

with a different perspective, a size 5 diaper does fit a 4" penguin (and 4" penguins need diapers)

A comment during yesterday afternoon's commute home made me think about perspective. It's easy become lulled into the assumption that everyone sees things the same way you do, even in the face of mountains of evidence to the contrary.
Take art. We have a gallery within walking distance of our home, and we're not infrequent visitors. I love art, but I'm not good at art appreciation. I know what I like, and what I like is literal. A tree must look like a tree. A pretty swirl of colors can be a pretty swirl of colors, and I may even buy it and take it home, but don't tell me that it's a tree.
It's the same story with appreciating the skill involved. I'll be the first to admit that I'm incapable of producing at least 90% of the art I view. However, just because you can paint a duck with a blender coming out of its head, doesn't make the painting a worthwhile endeavor. I mean really, who wants that?
But it's really all just perspective, right? I mean, someone out there - and probably lots of someones - really wants to see the duck with the blender. Any day, that painting will be sold, taken home, hung on a wall, and the lucky purchaser will think what a funny statement that makes. Surely, at least half of the people who've tried to read this blog have thought "dear god, who writes this shit." And, that's okay.
And, you ask, what's the comment that spurred this philosophical musing? Well, on the way home, larger than life and planted right next to the car on an on ramp is a billboard with a more-than-almost naked woman on it. In fact, if you squint your eyes, you can see oh-hint-oh-nipple (which, by the way, I can now recommend not doing while you drive.) Each time I see it, I cringe a bit because it's for cosmetic surgery, and this body image is being crammed down my daughter's throat every day. Lest you should begin to commiserate, I'll let Keira herself dispense with this line of thought. As we approach the billboard:
K: Mommy, is that a mommy? (mommy = any adult female)
M: Yes, that's a woman.
K: Mommy, it makes me sad.
M: Why?
K: That mommy is so sad.
M: Why is that woman sad?
K: Her shirt fall on the floor. She's going to be cold.
Gotcha. It's not objectifying a female or promoting the slicing and dicing of women for aesthetics. She's cold. She doesn't have a shirt, so she must be cold. I can live with that.

Surrounded By Salad Eatin' Bears

I hate to begin this post with bad news, but it's official, our home has an infestation of bears. According to Keira, these bears lurk around outside, and apparently they sometimes inhabit our ground floor. I'm not really sure what they are doing, but I have been informed that while these bears are black and eat salad, that they can also bite.
Since we live in an area with no bears, these particular denizens of our neighborhood are purely the product of Keira's imagination - which is officially here in full force. I'm positive that the bears from vacation somehow "followed" us home, and I also know where the biting and salad eating came from. Keira has told our neighbors, her friends, and her teachers, that sometimes bears are outside our house and she has to be quiet. The ursids don't seem to be causing any actual anxiety, and we don't play up the imaginary bears, so it seems pretty harmless.
On the other hand, the increased imaginary play is nothing short of hysterical. We went to our neighborhood playground this past week. There's a mini jungle gym that looks like an old fashioned car. Keira decided that she wanted to play "shopping mommy" and strapped me into my carseat. We then proceeded to go to the banana* store, the strawberry store, and the zoozeum (Children's Museum). I had to pretend to ride around in the cart, and be chastized for picking up things from the supermarket shelves. Apparently, I'm a right pain in the ass, but she keeps insisting on going to the supermarket with me, so she must like it.
*Note: banana is pronounced with the emphasis on the first a (BA nana)

Full Frontal Assault on Christmas

Nope, it' not an angry rant, as the title of this post would suggest. Instead, I thought it might be worth mentioning that it is now officially just 64 days until Christmas; which subsequently means that there are only 34 days until the international packages need to ship out.
After spending much of the last holiday season either in a blind panic or up to my elbows in last minute preparations, I vowed that this year, I would work year-round, one gift, project, or hand-craft at a time, so that by the time that Thanksgiving rolls around I can just sit back, relax, and do some rather cliched - yet fun- activities like baking cookies and decorating the tree.
All of this rather begs the question, where am I now? As of January 1, we had 59 people on our list. At present, 24 have been checked off my list, and 9 of these people's gifts are alread wrapped. Three hand-knit pieces are half-way done and bits and pieces will wrap up another 13 people - which I think I'll have time to wrap up this week, if not this weekend. That gets us over the half-way mark, with 31 days to go before Thanksgiving. I've pawned three people off on Chad, and know what I'm going to do for another 9 people. That just leaves 10 people to check off the list, which is less than three per week. All in all, I think that's pretty good.

PS - Becky - the count is 27 out of 36.

Back In Black

Well, more like white and chrome; but I digress.

It's official. We finally have a computer at home again. I now have to figure out how to use it, and we of course didn't wait for the new software release, which surely would have been advisable - but what the*%$#, we have a computer. This hopefully means that the blog is back in action.

We survived vacation. Keira was a star, and even though we pretty much broke every toddler rule in existence, we are here to tell the tale. We're now entering the holiday gauntlet, and next week the remodel ball is officially rolling.

Since photos apparently are worth a thousand words, I'm hoping that these snippets from the road will make up for about 3 months of blog posts!





and more to come - once I learn how to use this cursed computer.

Certifiably Delighted

On the count of three, everyone wish me luck - I'll be needing it. In T-60 and counting, we're heading off for a week-long vacation.

With a two-year-old manager-in-training we're going to attempt:

• two zoos


• one farm


• one night camping out


• three museums


• one national park


• 12+ hours in the car


• 5 picnics


• 1 musical dinner theater show

In less than two weeks, I may be either deceased or involuntarily committed to an asylum. Any good will you have on hand would heartily be appreciated.

On a more than a little funny note, Keira has decided that the free Visit Tennessee visitor magazine is a catalog, and that she can pick anything from there and we'll go see it. She spent part of yesterday telling her teacher about all the sparkly houses we're going to go see. Miss Corrina correctly guessed that Keira was describing riverboat casinos. It makes perfect sense since Keira is convinced that we have to visit every casino in the state of Tennessee.

Wish me luck - I sure as hell am not producing any sparkly house visits.

Do I find it irksome? You betcha!

Does it get on my every last little nerve that so many people try to interview themselves? Yes, I find it incredibly irritating and more than a bit insulting to the interviewer.
Do I think that it makes the interviewee sound like an ignorant jackass? Well, however did you guess? In fact I do think it makes them appear as if they've never quite grasped the concept that the journalist asks the questions, the interviewee answers the questions.
Does it seem like something that many kindergartners could get a handle on. Well, yes, I think that could be an accurate assessment of the situation.

Yesterday, one of my coworkers had on a shirt that said Good Grammar Is Free. Amen sista.

What Not To Wear

So, whose job is it to help elk accessorize? Because - whoever's responsibility this is, they are clearly falling down on the job. I know that the fashion trends of the 80's are reemerging, but the big, plastic, yellow bangles just aren't ready to come back yet.

Budding Thespian

Since it is currently impossible for me to get new photos off of my camera, I'm just going to randomly share photos that haven't yet been posted. Keira's been literally begging to go to the zoo, so this one seemed appropriate. Can't remember why she has the binky - she's not had it during the day for ages.

There are moments, just little, little moments, when you realize that the short one has just reached a milestone. This past week, Keira decided to try pulling one over on me and it was instantly clear that we're in a whole different ball game now.

Of course, being two, she tried to do this right in front of me, but I did get a peek at her budding acting skills (no danger of an in-house thespian here). While just the two of us are sitting at the table, finishing up dinner, she puts her bowl on top of her spoon and pretends that it just disappeared. When you read the following dialogue, you have to think C-movie actor, in a B-movie, acting the part of a bad B-movie actor. Bad baddy, bad, bad, bad - so bad it's funny.

Keira says dramatically: Moooommmy. Where did my spoon go. It's not here - where did it go?

Me: I don't know, could it be on the table?

K: I don't know! I don't see it! I don't know where it is. What happened?

M: Really, wow, do you think Phoebe took it? (Phoebe, of course, not being the least bit interested in ever using a utensil - due to her being a cat and all)

K: Yeah! Phoebe, give it back, give me my fork.

M: Isn't it your spoon?

K: Oh yeah, my spoon. Where go my spoon, mommy.

M: Hey, I think I see it. I think I see it under your bowl. How did that happen?

K: I donnow? Wow, I donnow what happen. Mommy, you move my spoon?

Seriously, right in front of me and she's already blaming me. Hhm, this will be interesting.

External Monolouge

Clearly I have some catching up to do, so keep checking in as I'm hoping to have the posts going up pretty hot and heavy over the next few weeks. I finally sorted out the laptop connection at home, so I think I'll be able to get back to a more regular posting schedule.
While it's been a really crazy last month or two at Chez Cerda, I'll bore you with more Keira stories today, and work on catching everyone up over the next week.
As just one more indicator that Keira takes after me to an alarming extent, she's developed what Chad and I refer to as her external monologue. She's constantly muttering to herself while doing things, and many times insists that I chime in to reiterate her own advice. Example? Keira is getting read to drink some juice:
Keira: "Be carefuw Keira. Don't spill it Keira. No spill the juice. Hold da lid. Be careful Keira, don't spill it, be careful - Mommy!"
Me: "Okay, Keira, be careful and don't spill any of your juice."
Keira: "Okay Mommy. I be careful. I not spill it."
And on it goes. She's her own little coach.
Perhaps the most chuckle-worthy manifestation of this trait is when she's really had it with me. She'll sit there fuming and muttering to herself "don't bite Mommy. No bite Mommy." Hmmm. I wonder what it is that she really wants to do?

Stick a Fork In It

It's official. The hard drive and computer are no more. While I like to think that I'm generally an organized person, we just kept procrastinating on backing up our hard drive. As you may have deduced - we lost it all. No computer, no photos, no files - nada. At least I feel I'm in good company - most of our techy-est friends admitted in a panic that they've probably not backed up for two to three years either. If you would be so kind as to indulge me in some eloquent words of wisdom- git up off yo' lazy ass and do it. It really sucks if you don't.

Because I have a really awful habit of creating duplicate files all over the place, I've actually been able to recreate much of the photo collection of Keira, although there are some candids we'll never see again. We actually lost a much higher percentage of photos taken with friends and of the cats.

If any of you have received any photos from me or from Chad over the past several years, we'd very much appreciate it if you could send a copy back to us. In addition, if you have any fun photos taken with us that you've not yet shared, we'd love a copy.

We're not going to get a computer for a bit since we are intrigued by the new Mac operating system and it's not due out for another couple of months. In the meantime we have a pinch hitter, and the blog will be back up and running.

Don't hold your breath for the next few days though, I was out of town on Saturday so I'm still only 200 or so pages into the final Harry Potter....

Radio Silence

Hi All,
Just a quick post to let you know that I've not given up the blog (aka project) but rather, our hard drive fried. So, I have no computer access at home. Since I rather like my job, this will be the only post I do from work, and it's just to let you know that for the next couple of weeks there likely won't be any more.
Please do check in a couple weeks from now, I should be back on line. Keep your fingers crossed, we're hoping we didn't loose loads of photos.
One quick update:
One child's pullover - check
Five squares on my blanket - check
Half of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone - check
Start of one more HP hat for knit along - check

Double-Digit Growth

Notice how early the multi-tasking starts? Why did I never think to mow the lawn and walk the baby at the same time?

Another spurt!

How are we meant to keep up? Every time we get the hang of what she can and can't do, she up and makes leaps and bounds. Things that she couldn't do just 3 weeks ago are now becoming old hat, and I really think she's doing it just to keep me on my toes.

She's scrabbling up the side of the jungle gym at our local playground, getting herself into her bath, and helping to mow the lawn (okay, that last bit's really just pretend.)

Did I mention that her ability to pretend is one of those things just exponentially increasing by the minute? Everything now is pretend and it's a hoot. The other night in her bath, she mimed grabbing my nose and stuffing it in her mouth. It was all fun and games till Mommy tried. Then, I was Mommy Dearest. She bawled. It was so freakin' funny I felt in danger of wetting myself, but she was really upset so I did my best composed-but-not-composed expression.

This afternoon as I was pulling her out of the car, she squinted up at me, reached out her arm, and pinched in the air, then mimes stuffing the "pinch" into her mouth. She follows this up with "I ate Mommy." Should I be worried?

Late this afternoon she saddled up to her play kitchen and worked like crazy. I finally asked her what she was making. "I making coffee -you. Sorry, Mommy, hot, hot, coffee. You can't have it." Hmmm, does she think we're teasing her with dinner. Sorry honey, wait a minute, that's still too hot. Makes me wonder.

Recent Sex

Lest you recoil in horror, I'm referring to S.E.X., which in yarn parlance is short for Stash Enhancement Expedition (i.e. buying more yarn). On Friday we lucked into a half day and Pam and I hoofed it all the way up into old downtown Carmel to Stitches n' Scones. Some decent damage to the debit card later and I'm now the proud owner of:

(top photo)

• Four skeins Plymouth Linen Isle in color 7503 228295 (the poetic craft employed by Plymouth for its color names is clearly unrivaled)
• Four skeins Plymouth Linen Isle in color 7471 195690
• Two skeins Blue Sky Alpacas color 627 (note that I wasted no time in dipping into this yarn, I only photographed the front of the sweater, the back is already done)
• One skein each Blue Sky Alpaca in some green color and some yellow color (don't feel like walking across the living room to read the label)

(bottom photo)

• One skein Lamb's Pride Worsted in Brown Heather
• One skein Lamb's Pride Worsted in Old Sage
• One skein Knit One, Crochet Too Paint Box in a variegated green-dark purple colorway
• One super-soft skein of Inca Alpaca color 1108
• One skein Rowan All Seasons Cotton color 191

Best part? There's another sale next Friday at Mass Ave Knit Shop, and I fully intend to go.

Now, For Something Completely Different

Hmmm, I still can't decide if I have quite enough projects going, so this past week Chad and I decided to add some more. We came to the conclusion that if we waited for the time to be right for the mega-remodel, that we'd just never do it. So, without further ado, we've jumped into planning the remodel. The kitchen and two full baths, possibly adding on to the back of the house, some structural correction, and if I have my way - a back deck too.

And when I say kitchen and two baths, I don't mean in any way that there is anything about any of these rooms that's in the least bit salvageable. From the ceiling to the floor and everything in between, including wiring and plumbing, these rooms are a disaster. So, we'll be gutting and starting fresh. This past year my neighborhood became an historically protected neighborhood so now there are all these extra steps that we'll have to go through (ultimately a very good thing, but right now a royal pain in the ass.) Undoubtedly, I'll update you from time to time on my progress (read: spew expletives.)

So, here is the current project list:

1. Meet with Historic Preservation Commission
2. Meet with financial advisor
3. Meet with mortgage broker
4. Identify several potential contractors
5. Meet with contractors
6. Hire contractor
7. Set schedule for remodel
8. one knit baby doll coat
9. one knit afghan (well, half of one anyway)
10. one knit baby blanket
11. one knit child's sweater
12. one felted evening bag
13. two felt advent calendars (approx 3 feet tall each!)
14. four necklaces
15. one mother's bracelet
16. wrap approximately 20 Christmas gifts
17. Keira's first scrapbook
18. At least 5 photo albums worth of photos to organize
19. sew a shirt
20. sew curtains
21. paint my bedroom
22. redecorate my bedroom
23. install one new set of built-in cabinets
24. clean up, refresh, and mulch 2 more flower beds
25. tear out two beds, augment the soil, and replant

Further Evidence

For all of you crafty gals, I'd just like to point out that Keira is reading a recent KnitPicks catalog!

Her first words, walking, first numbers, full sentences - all of these came oh, so easily to Keira. So why, I wondered, was she having so much trouble with colors. Everything was blue. Next, everything was green or purple, often both at the same time. She seemed to know color words, but couldn't seem to apply them correctly. I worried that she might be color blind, and even asked her pediatrician about it. And then, I caught her showing off her knowledge of colors to someone else.

She's been messing with me.

She turned two less than a month ago and she's having me on. A few nights ago, she had her yellow bath crayon* and here's the conversation that ensued:

Me: "What color is your crayon, Keira?"

K: "Ummm, black."

Me: "Nooooo, that's not black. What color is it?"

K: "Light green." She says emphatically, and in all seriousness.

Light green. Light, f*&%ing green. Hmmmmmmm

*For those of you without kids, yes there are actually crayons made specifically for the bath

And So It Begins

The countdown that is. I'm officially, and finally getting excited about the release of Book 7. Don't get me wrong, the minute the publication date was announced I ordered my copy of Deathly Hallows (for the record, I ordered two copies because Chad and I can't share.)
But now, I'm itching to reread the series to get ready for the finale. Not just the finale, but the release of the movie Order of the Phoenix.
Harry Potter isn't your thing? You scoff at the idea of reading these kid's books? Ha, I say thee. Okay, that was over the top, but seriously, if you've not yet given it a shot you really should. I too was a lame-ass and laughed at the idea of Potter-mania, but a wise fellow editor told me, "either read the books or shut up." Since clearly, I'm not one to shut up, I took up the gauntlet and have been hooked ever since. The last train to Hogwarts is leaving, all aboard!

PS - I've now knit two Gryffindor hats for our charity knit along! Wish me luck on a third.

Knock Knock

Hellooooo, is anyone out there? Just checking to see if any of y'all are still reading this. With the exceptions of Meg (to whom I owe a reply), Jill, and Mel, I've not heard from anyone for a while. Reply to this post or send me an email and let me know what you've been up to.
I'd love to do a "where in the world is..." post and brag on all of you talented folk, but first I need to know what you're up to.

And a Fun Time Was Had By All

We did it. Seventeen kids, twenty-one adults, three pony rides, one gallon of bubbles, one giant cake, three deli trees, no casualties. A success. The best part, I had fun too! I love watching these guys run around and have fun. Every single kid was a pleasure to be around, and behaved fabulously. And, in just under a week, Keira has gone from Oberday, to Happy Birthday. [she's also now claiming to be three, for what that's worth]
Now, on to planning our big party for this summer. Hope y'all can make it, if I do say so myself, I can throw a mean party.

Projects (or, The Myth of Getting Caught Up)

I've finished three more knitting projects, started a new knitting project, baked and iced a cake to look like a tiger, cleaned out and reclaimed a flower bed, reseeded the lawn, put in seed for herbs, and hosted a dinner party - in the past week. Why then, does it feel like I can never get anything done? Hmmm, I seem to make progress, but there's just always more.
Deciding that I simply needed to organize a bit, I thought I'd just jot down my list of projects and prioritize them - giving myself a better chance at wrapping up some things so I could get some free time.
Laughable. Simply hysterical. In fact, so funny that I feel I absolutely must share my list with you all. So, here goes. Projects that I have in the works are as follows:

1. one knit shrug
2. one knit hat
3. another knit hat (this one for charity, see blog entry on my new book!)
4. one knit baby doll coat
5. one knit afghan (well, half of one anyway)
6. one knit baby blanket
7. one knit child's sweater
8. one felted evening bag
9. two felt advent calendars (approx 3 feet tall each!)
10. four necklaces
11. one mother's bracelet
12. wrap approximately 20 Christmas gifts
13. Keira's first scrapbook
14. At least 5 photo albums worth of photos to organize
15. sew a shirt
16. sew curtains
17. paint my bedroom
18. redecorate my bedroom
19. install one new set of built-in cabinets
20. bake and ice one large sheet cake (see previous post)
21. menu plan for birthday party (see previous post)
22. shop and cook for birthday party (see previous post)
23. clean up, refresh, and mulch 6 more flower beds
24. tear out two beds, augment the soil, and replant
25. stopped the list at this point, for reasons I hardly think need illumination.
    

O-berday!!!

after cramming a whole fistful of ice cream into her mouth, Keira discovers that yes, ice cream is cold!

Two.


She's two.


Simply impossible to believe, but she's really two.


Yesterday was Keira's birthday (her second, if you couldn't guess.) This is the first special occasion that she's been able to anticipate, and seeing her develop the ability to grasp an abstract concept and get excited about it makes me realize how much she's changed in just 24 short months.


Since her last birthday, she's honed her walking skills and learned run; started to speak in full sentences; begun to grasp pronouns; figured out how to pick up, put down, and manipulate pretty much anything with her hands; has learned to try and share (not consistently, of course); decided to stand her ground without being a bully; started to offer hugs and kisses; learned names and relationships; has developed an imagination; and has figured out how to start holding up her end of the conversation. In short, she's no longer a baby. But I can say that baby or no, I really like the person she's becoming. Now, if we can only keep it that way.


She was so excited for her birthday (or as Keira would say, her O-berday.) She knows Saturday is her party, and that Grandma and Grandpa are coming, so the excitement isn't over yet.


For me, Saturday equals:

• Sixteen kids


• Twenty-some adults


• Pony rides


• Picnic food


• Games, and


• One homemade sheet cake with a jungle theme

Please, for the love of all that is holy, wish me luck.

Pony Sisters

Either Keira is very lucky, or kids are just nicer than adults. When, exactly, do we loose that sweetness and that sense of excitement about about being around other people? With a couple notable exceptions, the kids Keira knows are all nothing short of great kids. They are nice, they really care about each other, they are polite, they listen most of the time, and they can't get enough of playing together.

Up till now, the concept of getting her to sit still long enough to let do more than just wave a brush over her hair, was absolutely absurd. The weather heated up though, and we've finally gotten Keira into pony tails. If I do say so myself, they're freakin' cute. On a quick beverage break from playing with Ellie, our next door neighbor's youngest, I get her into pig tails. As soon as we get back next door, Ellie needs pony tails too. The next day, they both insist on the hair do du jour.

Little Ellie comes up to Keira and proclaims, "We're pony sisters, I won't take 'em out, okay."

Sweet. Not saccharine sweet, just sweet. I love those kids.

Hey Guys, Look At Me!

I've been trying to make a point of not talking about work overly much. Partly because I don't want to bore you all to tears, partly because I'm actually pretty fond of my job and would prefer to hang on to it. However, I really just can't help myself just this once.

A project near and dear to my heart just released this week, and as part of the book launch, we're doing a charity knit along. The book was a true collaborative effort and, if I do say so myself, it turned out really well. It helps that we had the cutest models on the face of the earth (read: Keira models one of the hats in the book.)

So, if you happen to see this in any of major bookstores, take a peek - if you haven't figured it out yet, I'm really rather proud of it. And, if you knit, consider joining our knit along here.

Let's All Go 'n Git Us Some Guns

Because clearly it's a good idea. The more the merrier, I say. You know, if we each had, say 20, then no one would die. You see, everyone would be afraid that the other person would shoot, so no one would shoot. Infallible logic.
What's that you say? That one's been done. Noooooo! Say it isn't so?
This week's tragedy clearly illustrates two points. The first is that is is more than painfully obvious that as a nation, we're not mature enough to own lethal weapons. Second, as a nation, we're not mature enough to give them up. I've handled guns, shot targets, and enjoyed it. I've known people who are in fact, mature enough to own and operate guns. I don't even know if it bears mentioning that they are the minority. But, I'm willing to give up that right in the face of spiraling violence and ridiculous crime rates. In my humble opinion, our government is so unbelievable inept at managing even the smallest of tasks, that I really find it hard to believe that it could manage to actually turn on its citizens. Not that there aren't elements of the government who wouldn't, given the chance. Bush is a prime example of that, but also a prime example of the incompetence of which I speak (but that's for another post.)
If 33 dead college students didn't raise the cry for gun controls, nothing will. I for one, am ready to turn mine in - 0h, wait - I don't have one. You see, I already thought it was a bad idea.
Since I fully realize that your news services are in no way as myopic as ours, I'll only leave you with this link in case you don't aren't familiar with the story to which I refer (it's here.)

Toddler Glasses

It absolutely rocks that when you have a kid, you actually get to be a kid again. Well, vicariously at least. Seeing things in a whole new light is hysterical. Recently, I've learned that having a boy hiding in your food isn't necessarily bad, and that you don't need a potty or a diaper if you're just a little poopy (which was, for the record, the understatement of the millennium.)

I broke down and just couldn't do dinner one night. Chad was out for guy's movie night so it was off to McDonald's. We went, we hamburgered, we played. On the way home, Keira decided to talk about her Happy Meal toy, which happened to be a doll from the Wizard of Oz. "Mommy, my boy (referring to her new little doll.)" "Keira's boy." "My boy hidin', mommy. Boy hidin' in my food." To me, the idea of a very small boy hiding in my food is a bit disturbing. Apparently, as a toddler, it's just one more mysterious way that toys come to be in your possession. Hell, if eggs can make their way outside, down to the park, and hide, why can't a little boy end up in your Happy Meal?

And the little poopy story, you ask? I'm on the phone with my Mom and I see Keira 'working' on something. This goes on for a couple of minutes, and I ask her if she needs a new diaper. She looks over ever so casually and says, "No mommy, it's just a little poopy. No diaper, mommy."

Cincy

My first trip to Cincinnati was fun. It's not a rockin, full-on nightlife, city-that-never-sleeps kind of town, but that's just fine with me for right now. I mean sure, we could have just given the babe some cough medicine and headed out for some much needed R&R, but I've heard that's not recommended? I couldn't have lasted anyway, it was all we could do to stay up to 10:00.
After the last couple of weeks - scratch that - few months, I really felt like I had to get out and just do nothing necessary for a few days or I was in very serious danger of ripping the head off of the next couple of people who crossed me the wrong way. Mind you, I may still do some head ripping, I'll just now have the resources to think about it a bit first.
We decided Friday evening that yup, we were heading out. After a couple of hours of back and forth, we actually decided where to go. Did a bit of digging, booked a hotel, packed a couple of bags, and we were almost ready. The next morning, we wrapped up the rest of the gear and headed to the Indianapolis Children's Museum with the cunning plan (as Baldric would say) to wear Keira out before we set off. That way, you see, she would nap the entire ride. Well, we made it almost an hour - that was something at least. After deciding against the American Sign Museum, a visit to the Mother of God Church (although this really had its alure), and the William Howard Taft National Historic Site, we settled on the children's museum that is part of the Cincinnati Museum Center at Union Terminal. The terminal is a vastly impressive piece of Art Deco architecture in and of itself, and the three museums that comprise the complex seemed entertaining. It was damn pricey, but you could really spend an entire day in the museums and the Omnimx and end the day with no further wish for entertainment. They had a special exhibit of artifacts from the Titanic. I'd of dearly loved to see it, but at $20 a crack and a cranky kid, I didn't want to risk being "the mom" whose kid broke the Titanic teacup. As it was, I ended up having to squeeze myself up a vertical shaft and crawl around in the duct work (which was meant to look like the upper canopy of the rain forest, and was, thank you very much, meant to be crawled in.) Keira scampered on up and then hesitated at a critical juncture, about half way around, necessitating my insertion into said exhibit. Mom to the rescue.
The next day we tackled the Newport Aquarium and some Turkish food. Both were good, neither was awe-inspiring. If you like aquariums, the Newport is pretty nice and they have lots of sharks, but they have just a handful of mixed species exhibits, which are what I like. We got back to the hotel and went for a swim in the pool (also known as the big bath).
This morning, we headed out to the zoo, which seems like it would be a very nice zoo indeed if they a) they had any animals, or b) they could, in any effective way, tell you how to get through the place. It's like a maze, and the map is completely off-scale and not representative of the actual place. Two qualities I really admire in a good map. Never mind, it accomplished our goal of wearing the poor thing out. She slept all the way back in the car, and woke up convinced that we were going to see some horses. Sorry dear, just the cats for you I'm afraid.
After all of that, believe it or not, I feel much refreshed. That is, until tomorrow when I have a full day of work and we're back on our routine.
I'm now T-19 and counting for the full-on toddler birthday party. Keira knows it's on too, so there is no backing out. She's mentioned it several times. She's also mentioned the boy that was hiding in her food, but that's a story for another time.
**I'll post some Cincy pictures soon. We've not gotten them off the cameras just yet.

Crack Smokin'

It was below freezing for the easter egg hunt!

Nope, crack smoking isn't yet another bad habit I've acquired, it's the look that Keira now gives me from time to time. She has actually started rolling her eyes (I really must take this opportunity to remind you all that she's not yet two.)
This past weekend, we took Keira down to a fun little Easter egg hunt hosted by the church near our house. They have three areas, separated by the ages of the kids. It's quick and it's within a 3 minute walk of the house - a total no-brainer.
Since this was her first hunt, we wanted to get her up-to-speed on the concept so that she'd have a fighting chance to get one or two eggs. So, when I went upstairs to get ready, I asked Chad to give Keira the low down.
When I'm done getting ready, Keira runs up and says, "Mommy, go for walk, go for walk - eggs." The expression told me that while she knew that both a walk and eggs were on the agenda, she wasn't certain how the two related. But, maybe we were going to the store?
So, I asked her if we'd find some eggs on our walk. She hesitates, then says yeeeessss? I confirmed that yes, we would go for a walk, we'd then find some eggs, and that the eggs would be hiding.
And I quote - "Eggs hiding, eggs hiding Mommy?" Then, she give me a look like surely I'm on crack and says, "Nnnnnnoooooooo, Mommy. No eggs hiding. Mommy." I could see that I'd just lost a notch in her esteem. If I believed that eggs might suddenly decide to hide, what next.
Imagine her surprise when we went for a walk, then really did find eggs hiding. She is still talking about it in awed tones (now she thinks I'm magic and can make eggs hide.)
You should have seen her face when I told her that a bunny was going to deliver presents (it didn't help that she thought I meant Bernie, our cat, whom she knows isn't in any lines to get her presents.)
((postscript: if you think that's humourous, you should have seen the look she gave me when I casually mentioned that I had a song stuck in my head))

A Pox!

The plague has again descended upon our house. The background noise in our house sounds something like a TB ward. Between the phlegm, mucous, Kleenex, and the inadvertent sharing of all kinds of things, our house is a veritable playground for germs. They just thrive, then ride the merry-go-round to the next person.
For those of you who don't yet have a kid in daycare or in school, here is how it goes:

• Your child goes to said environment in the morning
• Your child picks up everything and puts it in their mouth
• Your child actually licks other kids (no really, I've seen them all do it, it's not just mine)
• Your child licks door frames, window panes, book cases, then another child does same, then it repeats
• You come to pick up your child, who by now is completely coated in every germ known to man, including Ebola, the red plague, and dengue fever
• You tell same child how much you've missed them, give them a quick kiss, and you're now the happy new petri dish
• You kiss spouse hello
• Two days later Chad is sick
• Then Keira
• Then Chad
• Then Chad
• Then Keira
• Then Me

Wanna come over and hang out?

What the &$%@ Is Up with Today?

One of the following is true:
1) I really need a vacation
2) The universe has come completely out of alignment
3) Today was designated as national *&$% on Roxane day
4) Some random combination of all of the above

Somehow, I feel that the correct answer is likely to be #4.
I do truly need a vacation, but everyone I spoke to today was having the most rotten, f-ed up day, ever. Although could it have been the plume of smoke rolling out of my ears that set the tone? I may never know. You see, I hide my thoughts so well that I'm certain no one could tell that I was ready to jump off of the building (read: justifiable homicide never sounded so rational.)
Is it just me, or is it true that every once in a while, a larger-than-normal portion of people all opt to behave particularly badly on the same day? If it isn't just me, and all of you contend with just such people from time to time, I've developed a unique, four-step program (who has time for 12 steps). Follow these simple steps for relief:

1. Plan a day off, a long weekend, mini-break, or your next vacation [Check]
2. Drink at least 3 beers [Check]
3. Think of 3 things that you'd really like to have happen to anyone who's crossed your path today [Check, Check, Check, and Check]
4. Rant for at least 2 minutes [Of all the pain in the a$%, mother $%^$#@@# days, why did you b%$###s decide to all crawl up my nose today? Didn't your meaningless, self-involved, drama-soaked lives offer enough entertainment for you today? Have I not reached a point where I can opt not to bother listing to the whining drivel that spews out of your mouths? -Check]

Ah, that's much better.

World's Best Mom (Or: how I'm vying for the title)

Yes, a horsey ride. A real, live pony that I let Keira ride. About half way through I was pretty well convinced that I was more likely to be on my way to the worst mother in recorded history contest, but she didn't fall off, the pony decided not to try and get away (which he was decidedly considering at one point), and Kiera had the time of her life. How do we know that she really got into it? Well, here was the conversation after the ride:

Dad: Did you have fun?

Keira: Horsey ride, riding horsey, Keira ride horsey.

Mom: What was the horse's name?

K: Horsey ride, riding horsey, Keira ride horsey.

D: Did you like the ride?

K: Horsey ride, riding horsey, Keira ride horsey.

M: Did you hold on tight like a big girl?

K: Horsey ride, riding horsey, Keira ride horsey.

D: Is it time for a nap?

K: Horsey ride, riding horsey, Keira ride horsey. Horsey ride, riding horsey, Keira ride horsey. Horsey ride, riding horsey, Keira ride horsey. Horsey ride, riding horsey, Keira ride horsey. Horsey ride, riding horsey, Keira ride horsey. Horsey ride, riding horsey, Keira ride horsey. [passes out cold]

I've really let things pile up, so bear with me as the posts roll in over the weekend. I actually meant to post this last Monday, if that tells you how behind I am.

Lest Thee Be the Repeatee

(photos illustrate what happens when you cross 'da babe)

It's official, we have a parrot. In the last day, dear daughter has begun to mimic things that Chad and I have said. So far she's not selected anything, shall we say, tangy. But really, it's just a matter of time.

I've already rolled back the salty, sailor-home-on-shore leave vocabulary - for the most part anyway. And, generally, we try not to talk about anything inappropriate, at least not using vocabulary words that she understands. I fear, though, that even that must cease. I can tell she's saving up, she's listening to every little thing (especially when you don't think she is) and she's just trying to determine which little gem she's going to pull out and show someone.

Before any of you feel sorry for us, which as the doting, sympathetic people you are, I know was forthcoming, I should point out that this is just payback time. She's getting ready to get us back for every time that she's had to go to bed when she didn't want to, didn't get a cookie, didn't get to watch Elmo, had to go to school when she didn't want to, had to come home from school when she didn't want to, had to take a bath, in short, for pretty much every little thing that she couldn't control - now, she has this. She can listen and squirrel away verbal ammunition like she's Russia rolling into the Cold War. Boy, are we in for it.

Now, all I have to do to prevent the impending embarassment is to a) not be quite so sarcastic, and b) keep Chad from teaching Keira to say 'interesting' things on cue.

This ought to be fun.

There's Plenty of Bitch Left

Ah, book club, how I love thee. It's just so damn much fun. Every month, for like seven years, some girlfriends and I have gotten together to have a couple of drinks, catch up, and very, very occasionally talk about a book.

It's not that I don't get quality time elsewhere, but to be in the company of some really together, smart, accomplished women and just enjoy each other's company - pure bliss. As a group we've increased in size; decreased in size; gone through boyfriends, jobs, rough patches, marriages, births, and the blending of families.

Tonight was no exception. Having abandoned the hostess/formal book selection ruse in favor of the bar/drinks format, we all arrived ready to nosh and gab. Even though the chosen watering hole was closed to the general public, they stepped up to the plate and accommodated us outside, where it was perfectly pleasant. As an added bonus, the featured wine was Bitch, no really, it was. So in summary:

• Appetizer - $18


• Flight of wine - $15


• Bottle of Bitch - $25


• To be able to step back once a month and just hang out - priceless
  

The bar allowed us to take home the unconsumed portion of the bottle of wine, and after seven years there will definitely be a next time. So, lest you were worried, there's plenty of Bitch left (wine and otherwise.)

Bitten

Completely gratuitous house photo

It's not even the end of March and I've been bitten by a mosquito. No, really, and it's not the first time this year. More than two weeks ago I got bitten once and killed two mosquitoes in our front yard. Last night I was sitting on our porch with some friends and zap, another one got me. This does not bode well for the rest of this year.

What in the hell did I do to deserve such nasty creatures (not that I don't have at least a handful of guesses), and why, oh why, must Indiana have such an obnoxious variety? In Michigan we had this humongous, loud, easy to spot and kill variety. At least you could see them coming. Here, we've got this tiny, little exotic species that can get a hold of you and have a good long drink before you've really noticed. You just don't stand a chance. In my opinion, any creature that can make a normally composed adult jump and flail like a dance hall full of men whose leiderhosen have shrunk in situ, should be smote at the species level.

I wonder what August will be like?

PS - gratuitous home photo was chosen because I keep thinking of all the yard work that's coming up. I'll post an after photo once we get the flower beds back up to par.

Yup

At times, it's really hard to describe to other Americans why we have such a bad image overseas. Having born the burden of this image on more than one occasion, I can tell you that it's deeply ingrained, and not for no good reason. Bush is the obvious culprit du jour, but really it goes so much deeper. It's really because people insist on behaving like this. I could really rant about the intolerant, ignorant, self-indulgent, cult of non-responsibility that's grabbed a hold of a good portion of this nation with a grip that would make and orangutan jealous. But, I won't. I just won't go there. Because, at the end of the day you a) can't change it, and b) when put into the form of a video clip can be damn amusing.
Seriously, you really must watch the video. And keep in mind, the behavior exhibited by the US residents is all completely voluntary. This is really how people find it acceptable to behave. No, really, it is.
And people wonder why my husband and I have fantasies of living as ex patriots.

Dinner, Impromptu Style

Left to Right, My friend Robin's boy Alex, Keira, and Robin's youngest, Dylan.

That there aren't even close to a sufficient number of hours in the day, is certainly not news to any of you. This week though, it seems like the deficit is is at least ten-fold. No matter how quickly you work, it just keeps coming. When I finally managed to pry myself out of my office, making dinner was absolutely out of the question. Ring up Chad, and viola, someone named Pablo is whipping up my dinner (Don Pablo to be exact).
Keira and I show up promptly 30 minutes late (I'll rant about the daycare pickup later) to find Robin, Dylan, and Alex waiting for us! It was such a nice dinner and with three kids, oddly relaxing. The kids adore each other and who better to entertain a kid, than a kid. All three adults actually got to eat food - and it was mostly warm.
Thanks, Chad! Thanks, Robin!
PS - don't forget to order that yarn.

If It's Blue, Should I Still Consider Eating It?

Okay, not really eating it, but drinking it. This is the question that crossed my mind this afternoon as I whipped up a Kroger-branded, instant, non-fruit, non-sugar, non-juice, possible petro-chemical product that was masquerading as a "lite" beverage. And I mean blue. Not a nice ocean/blueberry/sky blue, but an artificial blue that is so fake and unappealing that you rarely find it on anything, save gas station tchotchkes. (you know the ones I mean, the light-up angels and unicorns that only come in colors that would make god himself gag?)

So, I tear open the little teensy-weensy packet, pour it into my cup, and viola, a shade of blue that was never intended. Did I mention that the flavor was raspberry lemonade? I mix it a bit and now it's pink. At which point should I have stopped and said, no thank you? How desperate for a non-caloric beverage can one be? Apparently enough to make all of the above observations, shrug, walk back to my desk, and swill the very same drink.

You see, I'm embarking, once again, on another attempt to try and weigh something less than a bear that's just swallowed a hiker. It's quite possibly a vain hope, but hey, it's biking season again, we'll soon want lighter/cooler fare, and weekends will be taken up with gardening, so who knows.

Wish me luck. But don't worry, this won't turn into a diet blog. I'll only update you when I loose 30 pounds : )

PS - Cat photo is entirely random, I just felt like sharing! Bernie feels that if he takes over the changing station, the baby must go.

Insanity? Why Yes, Don't Mind If I Do

Ever come up with an idea and think, "wow, am I going to regret this later," and then sally forth to execute the exact same idea. Nope? Just me? Figures.

I've been contemplating exactly how we want to celebrate the two year anniversary of keeping one small person alive for two whole years. An accomplishment that's even more impressive when you realize that I've wanted to strangle the little dear no less than a dozen times - today.

At any rate, this morning when I dropped of the lil' darlin' the subject of her birthday came up and her three closest little friends piped up, "Birfday? Keiwa Birfday? Oh, birfday party, birfday party." and I said, "Okay." We'd been contemplating a party anyway, but we want to have a big summer shindig so we'd hoped to keep the birthday to a dull roar. No dice says the hoard.

So, I am willingly and with open eyes planning a birthday party for a mass of screaming two year olds who bite, have trouble sharing, and love each other to bits.

It will be the best of times, it will be the worst of times... wish me luck.

Yeah, I got it.

I'd like to conduct a small poll. After realizing that you are essentially raising yourself, when does one opt to jump off the bridge?
For your consideration, I give you this week's newest language developments (keep in mind that she's 22 months old - imaging what we'll get by 3):

• when Dad tries to wake her up, he gets a groggy "what?"
• when I try to help her with her napkin, I get an oh-so-slightly testy, "yeah, I got it."
• when I tell her it's time to get pajamas on I hear "well, just a minute"
• when I ask if she wants to go outside to play, "in a second, I'm cookin"
• constantly, "come on, Daddy, come on"
• while I'm driving (and I'm a very good driver. no, really) "fareful Mommy, fareful"

Who, exactly, has enrolled my toddler in assertiveness training? Clearly she gets none of this from me (except perhaps, all of it.) How hardwired is this stuff, 'cause I'm in for more trouble than I'm up for.
Last but not least, I must shed one single tear in farewell to Keira's current classroom. I've tried to be thoughtful about this next big transition. After much consideration, angst, and deliberation, I finally decided that we should start transitioning to the next classroom. She's simply just too much older than most of the other kids in her current room. Preparing myself for a couple of weeks of transition and some hiccups along the way, this morning we dove into the move and she spent time visiting her new classroom. Need I have bothered? I come to pick her up and, I quote, "yeah, I go twos now. Play with friends, play outside. Bye bye babies."
Yep, bye bye babies, sniff, sniff...

Lace, Lagaan, and a List

What do all these things have in common? Well, not much actually, except that they are the three topics that kept popping into my mind when I tried to think of what to write. Lace, because I'm starting my first lace knitting project, Lagaan because it's a movie I was planning to start tonight, and lists because I felt like sharing some of the teasing I inflicted on my poor husband last night.
You see, he loves:

• kung fu movies
• science fiction
• movies and TV shows based on comic books
• conversations based on any of the previous
• bloody action movies (but really only those based on either ancient history or comic books)

I took up knitting because:

• my husband likes to watch kung fu movies
• my husband likes to watch science fiction
• my husband likes to watch movies and TV shows based on comic books
• my husband likes to have conversations based on any of the previous
• my husband likes to watch bloody action movies (but really only those based on either ancient history or comic books)
• we don't go out much anymore
• for work
• it's unavoidable, really

So you see, the lace really is a product of kung fu. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. How does Lagaan fit into this at all? Well, you see, if I felt okay to poke mild fun at Chad's viewing preferences, I really then ought to admit that I have some guilty pleasures of my own. I like:

• the occasional volume of chick lit
• The Spice Girls (yes, still)
• knitting
• Brit pop
• Japanese Cute Culture
• Hello Kitty
• Baliwood music

Though I've not yet tried it, I very seriously suspect that I'm bound to enjoy Baliwood movies. Since Lagaan is purported to be the quintessential Baliwood musical, I thought it best to start there. Chad is out swilling beer and watching The 300 with the boys (see earlier bit about Chad liking gory films based loosely on a) comic books b) historical events). I think I'll go pop in Lagaan now, although I won't get too far. Chad's due home soon and Heroes is on in half an hour (see earlier comment on TV shows based loosely on comics).

Cupcake Hat

Whew! One more project done. This one is all finished, blocked, and ready to be shipped off tomorrow morning. It's been done for a bit, but I hadn't yet had time to photograph the hat. I turned out really cute, if I do say so - but I only knitted it, I didn't design it. The photo on the left shows off the adorable shaping.

The yarn I used was Rowan Baby Soft, not the best choice for this pattern as it really would have benefited from a much springier yarn. Ah well, I'll have to find something else to do with my immense stash of Baby Soft. Anyone have any ideas?

If you like the pattern, you can find it on www.slumberland.org

It's "worthware," so at some point I guess I'll need to go pay her $5.

I'm a little teapot

Now that it's been delivered, I can post a photo of another recently completed knitting project, a tea cozy for my friend Pam's birthday. A birthday that I both remembered and then forgot. See, I accidentally transcribed said birthday into my 07 calendar for Feb, when it should have been March. So, I had everything ready in Feb, then realized her birthday was in March. Then, last week at work was ridiculous-busy and I proceeded to forget the same birthday. Sorry Pam.

If you like the tea cozy, you can find the pattern here. If you decide to knit it, read the pattern very carefully, you really do need both sets of dpns, but you don't need the circular needle, a pair of spns would have worked better. Also, Manos del Uruguay is a great yarn substitution (it's what I used).

Time Management

7:45 Arrive at daycare
8:00 Still trying to extract myself from daycare
8:05 Lobbying one year old to leave daycare
8:15 Arrive at work
8:30 Realize I've been staring at login screen for 15 minutes, get up to get coffee
8:35 Recommence staring at screen
8:40 Realize I need to restart computer
8:45 Log on to computer
9:00 Finish deleting junk from email Inbox
9:30 Returned 20 emails and realize I need to book travel for trade show in six weeks, go to Travelocity and begin searching hotels
11:30 Realize I've just spent two whole hours looking for a hotel for one night in effort to save $20
11:45 Finish eating half box of Girl Scout cookies only to realize that "oh crap, I've just finished half that box of Girl Scout cookies."
12:00 Should I have lunch? No, wait, remember the Girl Scout cookies, damn Girl Scouts
12:30 Notice that in time it took to look for hotel room (which I did not book) I've received over 50 emails
2:30 Come to realization that there is no possible way in Hades that I'm going to keep up with email today. I'll let everyone bounce their emails back and forth, and I'll read through the strings tomorrow morning and respond only where necessary
2:45 Finally eat lunch
3:00 Update weekly status report only to realize that due to ridiculous volume of email, I'm actually further behind than I was last week. Need to revise annual status report
4:30 Realize it's time to leave work, should just check email one last time to ensure there is nothing urgent
5:01 Sprint from work, now late to pick Keira up from daycare due to getting sucked into email vortex
That, folks, is why I make the big bucks.

What's With All the Questions?

Admittedly, the obvious question is, what happens when you feed a baby black frosting. I can tell you, but I'm somewhat certain that you really don't want to know; or that you could guess but don't actually want confirmation.
Yet, I digress. Those aren't the questions I meant. Over the last week, Keira's gone from using statements to get what she wants, to actually asking questions - just for the hell of it. Mind you, her word order is about as random as the shrapnel pattern across the face of Dick Cheney's hunting partner, but questions are most definitely progress.
What's the best question we've gotten so far? That would be Keira asking a school bus where it was going, as we drive down 465. "Baaasss, where go bus? Where going, bus? Where you go?"
And Robin, thanks for the - um - interesting diaper.

Ta-Da, Sugar on Snow

In case word hasn't yet reached you, it's time I came clean. I've officially joined a cult; become a junkie. My sinister co-workers subliminally coerced me into picking up needles, and now I'm hooked - no wait, hooked would be crochet. Anyway, since I've been having some fun with it, I thought I'd share a photo of one of my completed projects.

The best part, Keira will actually consent to wear this hat every once in a while. That is, if the blue (pink) hat isn't anywhere to be seen.

By the way, if you like hand knitted things, just send me your sizes (and those of your kids). You just never know when I'll find a yarn and a pattern that remind me of you (Becky, I already have about 20 ideas for you, and yes, I know your sizes.)

If any of you have taken up knitting, I'd love to hear about it and see some finished projects. You can find the hat pattern, for free, at Knitty.com. ttp://knitty.com/ISSUEfall06/PATTsnow.html

Ham-a-Rama

As I pumped gas today, the sign above the pump exclaims - Ham-A-Rama! Your Choice!!!
No, seriously! I can choose my Ham-a-rama -not just a ham - but a ham-a-rama all my very own? Surely, it seems just too good to be true. Oh, but it is - true that is.
Why, oh why, must people who communicate on behalf of companies and small businesses insist on making up words? It's not as if English is somehow lacking in vocabulary. That there aren't already a sufficient number of words to describe anything that could possibly come along, ever.
Are we just that bored? Are people who make signs just that ignorant of the range and depth of the words already available? Well, okay, that's actually my guess, but somehow it seems bitchy to say. Oops, I said it.

On Mimmits, Pippers, and Beeps

Okay, day three, and already I'm a day behind. This is actually yesterday's post, but it's taken a whole day to get to my computer. Hmm, see where this is all heading, don't you?
This blog thing is kind of interesting in that it really forces you to decide which single thing you want to tell people about. It seems like the hard part should be narrowing the field. Sadly, that's not the case. After burning numerous brain cells without producing a single candidate worthy of two sentences, Keira demands that I help her with her mimmits - and it hits me. I'll be so sad when the cute baby-isms are one more thing in the rear view mirror.

Mimmits are mittens. Pippers are slippers, and beeps - well, beeps can be buttons, binkies, belly buttons, our cat Phoebe, most anything that starts with a B and doesn't merit the effort of full pronunciation. I realized how quickly she's acquiring language when my dad, my mom, and my sister respectively went from Gagum, Nagum, and Geeky to Grandpa, Grandma, and Becky within the space of one month.

Before I forget just how damn cute they all are, I thought I'd share. So, without further ado, here is the Keira Phrasebook:

Mimmits - mittens, preferably the red ones with little hearts

Faffles - waffles

Sinerds - dinosoaurs

Pippers - slippers

Beeps - buttons (as in elevator buttons), belly buttons, anything starting with a B

Yay-yo-yo - I don't know

Nack - snack

Beeebs - bib

Mommies - my breasts

Chickens - kitchen

Pretties - anything that she can put on by herself

Eeenee - Ernie from Sesame Street

Ta-Da

Okay, here goes. If you've found this blog already, that means that I probably clued you in to my - er, experiment. Since I'm clearly well past dreadful in the correspondence department, I thought I'd add blogging to my list of things I need to do every day that prevent me from doing anything at all, really.
I do understand that in order to drive enough traffic to the site to be able to retire in comfort, I really should make my blog "about" something - so, I have. It's about me, glorious me. Just kidding, as with everything else I undertake, I'm afraid that it will be about a little of this, a little of that. Kid, crafts, cats, friends, random bitching, you know. I'll try to post as many photos as I can, but as I currently seem to be absolutely crap at taking photos, please forgive me if there aren't any from time to time.
If you know me well enough to have my email address, send me some photos, but make sure to let me know if there are any you don't want me to share. So there, it's done, my inaugural post. Wish me luck, and drop me a line or a comment from time to time.