Tuesday, January 22, 2013



Eight days, eh?

We're just going to go ahead and wax that off and move right along now, yes?



What's new... Let's see... L's 1st birthday party planning is in full effect.  I'm shooting for somewhere in the middle of "It's Just a One Year's Old's Party, Chill the Fuck Out" and "MAKE ALL THE PINTEREST CRAFTS."  It's a fine line, but I think I'm towing it pretty well.  DIY is definitely not my love language, but baking {well, more like cooking, but toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe} surely is, so if my pinwheels are crooked and my fringy streamers are wilted, at least there will be delectable confections.  Also: tastefully displayed and appropriately themed booze. 

Already kinda over it. #firstbirthdaypartyconfessions

Picture! Perfect! Party! to mark the occasion or no, our child is undoubtedly hurdling swiftly toward toddlerhood.  I'll be sure to embarrass her future self in more detail in her official 11 month post, but girlfriend is acting positively childlike {as opposed to mini-infant-meatloaf-lumpish} all of a sudden.  She cruises!  She throws mini-tantrums!  She has O-P-I-N-I-O-N-S-!  We were at Whole Foods on Sunday, and, whilst simultaneously selecting produce and attempting to prevent her from launching her body out of the buggy, I deigned to place a {huge} carton of spinach near her person.  Little Miss whipped her body around, grabbed that {seriously Popeye-sized} spinach, and hurled it to the floor.  I put the spinach back into the cart, only to witness the exact same feat of will and strength, to the utter amusement of my fellow shoppers.  I'm not sure what that spinach ever did to her, but L was not having any of it's malarkey.

Screw the French/ Cue the public displays of food bribery. 

Do you know what love is?  Love is feeding your child your fancy cheese samples and then using your new top to mop up said cheese in regurgitated form after said child gets a bit too overzealous with the straw she had to have from the salad bar. 

11 months old! #andintoeverything

Oh yes.  I love this almost-birthday girl so, so hard.

Speaking of birthdays, have I mentioned lately that E and I are also February babies?  And that while we'd normally kinda keep our own celebrations low key this year, I'm turning the Big 3-0 {and, let's be honest here, I don't "do" "low-key birthday celebrations" anyhow}, and E really deserves a Big 3-0 Do-Over since his 38 week pregnant wife kiiiiiinda dropped the ball last year?  So, yeah, it should be a super duper fun and festive month... But I'm serious now, NO ONE ELSE IS ALLOWED TO BE BORN IN FEBRUARY, EVER.  There's no more room at Fiesta Inn, y'all. 

Circling on back to that 30th birthday nonsense... E is spearheading some party planning of his own, and I'm already feeling pretty damn special.  I mean, the man picked out stationery.  On his own.  Stationery that features rather flattering photographs of myself. 

Love Tip:  Marry someone who thinks you look cute even in your Fat Photos... but who knows you well enough to pick one of your favorite snapshots for public distribution... even if said shot was taken 6 years and at least 30 pounds ago. 

Aaaaaand, having absolutely nothing to do with anything, I made the awesome decision to watch The Following last night.  **SPOILER ALERT**  Before L was born, I loved scary movies and shows.  I could watch anything.  I mean, when I was strapped for cash in college {what was I trying to afford back then? more Burke Street Pizza?  more sorority formal Party Picks? who the hell knows...}, I contemplated selling my eggs, and even went so far as to fill out a donor profile, one question on which being "what is your favorite movie," and I automatically put the truth -- Silence of the Lambs -- prompting a good friend to be all "um, do you really think anyone is going to pay thousands of dollars for some horror movie crazy's DNA?"  She had a point, but I seriously do love me some Hannibal Lector.  

ANYHOO.  Ever since I spawned, I'm a bit of a weenie.  I practically had to cover my eyes for the entirety of October while those ridiculous Insidious trailers aired on every effing channel, haunting even the hallowed commercial zones of Real Housewives.  But, for some reason, I thought I was all golden to jump right into Crazy Seriel Killer & Company Territory.  

And... well, I'm totally hooked but I'm also totally not sleeping for the next 14 weeks.  So, it's time for another round of There's No Way I Can Be Killed By a Psycho Murdered Because...
  • I am no longer in college, nor do I live in a sorority house. 
  • E is not a serial killer {THAT I KNOW OF}
  • I have not slept with an FBI agent and/or Kevin Bacon 
Thus far, that's about all I've got.  I'm also planning on axing all twenty-somethings with pixie cuts from my list of potential babysitting candidates.  

I am, however, rather concerned about the lovely lesbian couple with the rescue dogs we've befriended across the street.  

I'll be watching those two VERY CLOSELY.  



{What's new with you?}


  1. Ehrmahgawd, PARTY PICS REFERENCE!!!!! Good Lord, yes, that and my employee discount at the Crew were most certainly the reasons for broke ass-ness in college. In hindsight, I guess I didn't need that many drunk pics of me and my cohorts dressed as our favorite cocktails or as golf pros/tennis hoes.

  2. omg, she LOOKS old in that picture. Seriously her face has changed!!! nooooo don't turn into a skinny scrawny kid, I want you to be a chubby baby foreverrrrrr (at least until I can meet and squeeze, okay!?)

  3. Oh law, the OPINIONS! I'm not really ready for those yet. We also have an obsession with straws and fancy cheese samples. I think of it as educating her palette (very French) as opposed to food bribery.

  4. That show. OMG THAT SHOW! I watched behind my hands last night. It seriously freaked me out. Poor Maggie Grace.

  5. She is sooooooo big. I cannot handle it.


happy little comments!