Dear Kevin M:

The schlussel partei is the funniest thing I've read in forever.
Well played.

(Addendum: And then Leon follows up with a strong, "my leather pants are becoming wet with excitement.")

Which makes THAT the funniest thing I've read in forever.

Lakeview Terrace -- At A Theatre Near You September 19th

So I see a commercial last night for a new thriller starring Samuel Jackson. It looks interesting/creepy, so I watch it all the way through -- only to see that one of the cops at the end of the trailer is none other than Jeff Cockey.

He has a speaking role in this one. He plays a bad cop who videotapes strippers in some bachelor party scene. Wow. What a stretch of his acting abilities that must've been.

I'll so go see it. I missed the last one he was in because I cannot remember the damn movie name (it's an Adam Sandler movie -- Defending the Zohan, Living the Vida Zohan, You've made a mess of the Zohan, Lindsay Zohan...I dunno.)

Whatever. My job is giving me ulcers this week, so I wish he'd just get famous and make me his publicist already.

Labor Day Goins' On

Saturday
BrickFair -- a Lego Expo at the Sheraton Tysons Corner. Yet another one of those things that I would never have thought of doing in a million years before I had a kid. Unlike Hillary, who will be meeting us there with her child, Sammy, husband, Scott and father in law, Stu. Her husband, Scott, is running the Rock 'n Roll half marathon in Va. Beach this weekend and has postponed their departure time in order to take in the BrickFair -- he is such a Lego fan.
Sunday
Zoo -- after spending some time there last weekend, we realized that we have not spent nearly enough time there this summer with Avery and are hoping to remedy that with a few hours running around there early in the morning.
Cookout -- at our friends house (The Johnsons). They have a beautiful backyard and pool and always serve great food and drink. Plus, they always have a bunch of kids running around to entertain ours.
Monday
Annual Labor Day Cookout/Kickball Challenge--in our cul de sac.

I'm hoping to also fit in some time to find the perfect pair of jeans and also some other clothes for some of the more adult outings we have coming up in coming weeks.

Liverpool

A photo from Liverpool in 1988. That's me, my college roommate, Jan, and our sorority sister, Amy, walking by the Cavern -- where the Beatles first played in 1961.

I have always loved the artsy-fartsiness of this photo.

Mother Of The Year, Part Infinity

Last night at the grocery store, I had a cart full of food and just one more item to get before checking out when Avery said, "I have to go pee pee." I have no idea where the bathroom is in the grocery store...so I was driving that damn cart with the huge plastic car attached to the front that all kids need to ride in that makes the entire cart extremely unwieldy all over the back of the store to try and find the restroom. (Aside: once, I went shopping with Tim and Avery -- and Avery was acting up. So, Tim took her outside, leaving me to finish the grocery shopping alone with the ridiculously huge car-cart. I looked like some sad mommy wannabe, pretending what it would be like to have an actual child with me as I grocery shopped.)

Anyway...we looked all over the back of the store for the restroom and I could not find it. So I said, "please hold it" and we went up front to check out. Of course, after I had emptied the entire contents of my cart onto the conveyor belt, I could see the restroom in the front of the store...about 10 feet from the checkout line. At this moment, Avery said, "Mommy!" and I looked back to see her emptying the entire contents of her bladder onto the floor. I had no idea what to do, other than to feel guilty, as she had given me plenty of notice that she had to go to the bathroom. So, I grabbed a couple of diapers out of the diaper bag (we still keep them in case of emergency even though she's strictly an underpants girls now) and put them on top of the puddle.

The cashier could not have been nicer. She looked at Avery and said, "That's okay, sweetie. We'll get someone to clean it up. Don't you worry about that at all." Then, she quickly finishing ringing me up and had someone push my cart to the side so that I could take Avery to the bathroom.

I took her into the bathroom and assured her that it was my fault and not hers that she had an accident.

She seemed fine with that, I wish I was.

What In God's Name Happened To Me In My Childhood?

My ADD has gotten the best of me. Rather sheepishly, I approached the IT Department at my company yesterday and asked them to block a list of blogs and web sites that I visit every day -- sometimes repeatedly.

I suppose admitting that I have a problem is progress.

Blogger is still not blocked, however, so you can probably expect to be hearing a lot more from me. Baby steps.

Somewhat related, as this all has to do with my neuroses, I was chatting with a friend yesterday and mentioned the drill for when Canetto is out of town. It is as follows: I go up to bed at about 9:30 (because it is dark outside and I am scared of the dark). I turn on the home alarm system, bring both the home phone and my cell phone upstairs with me and barricade Avery and myself into my bedroom. (When I say barricade, I mean I lock the door, then the deadbolt that my darling husband had installed on the door above the normal lock because I'm a freak, and then I drag a heavy chair halfway across the room to put in front of all of that. Then, I sleep with the light on and wake up about every hour and a half all through the night thinking that I heard something.) It's a mystery why I never became a police officer or enlisted in the armed forces, huh?

This friend I was chatting with looked at me and said, "You know why I like you? no matter how neurotic I get...you always make me feel better."

I'm A Giver

Tim (quizzically, looking at memo section of HUGE weekly check I write to Avery's school that says family #0032): "Is 0032 our family number?"

Me (sarcastically): "No."

(long pause)

Me: "And family #0032 really likes me."

Snore And Roar

First of all, apologies to the National Zoo for erroneously listing this event as "Snore 'n Roar" on my Facebook page. I hate the apostrophe N almost more than I hate people spelling C words with Ks (Krispy Kreme -- I'm talking to you!) and yet, I saw one where none existed. I'll blame the marketing profession in general (those krazy kards).

That aside, this is one of the coolest events I've done in the DC area. We signed up for the "Commissary" tour when we originally decided to do this back in April ("We" being me, Hillary and Hillary's mom, Nancy.)

On Friday, I met up with Hillary and Nancy at 5pm at the Zoo, where we brought a picnic and dined for an hour before the event began. (Hill even managed to sneak in a bottle of wine -- don't tell the Smithsonian.) At 6:00pm, we met up with our tour guide and other group members and received our tents. We selected our campsite (near a lovely waterfall) and set up our tent, then regrouped to begin our tour. (Being the seasoned campers that we are, Hillary brought a Strawberry Shortcake sleeping bag, Nancy brought a pillow in a white eyelet pillowcase, and I completely forgot a pillow and the pump to blow up my queen-sized air mattress.) We toured the commissary, which handles all of the food delivery, processing and distribution of food for every animal in the Zoo. Two animal nutritionists (two of only fourteen in the entire country) led the tour and were so interesting and interested in their jobs. We learned a lot, asked a lot of questions and did a few hands-on activities. We also got to go into walk-in freezers where we saw things like frozen whole rabbits in individually wrapped packages -- still with their fur and everything. That creeped me out more than a little bit. At the end of the tour, there was a scavenger hunt in the facility. Being the freakisly competitive people we are, Hillary and I developed a strategy of splitting up and also not lingering in front of clues, so as not to give any information away. We kept doing recon missions and then reporting back to Nancy who stayed in a central location to record answers. (Please keep in mind that our competition in this hunt was a bunch of parents with their eight and nine-year-old children. It was very important that we win.)

We did win and documented our dash across the finish line...only to find out there was no prize. (Well, other than the satisfaction of knowing that we kicked some elementary school ass.)

After that, we got to take a flashlight tour of all the nocturnal animals. It was awesome to be at the Zoo at night with very few other people.

The next morning, there was another scavenger hunt planned for us that gave us a pretty good walk around the Zoo. This time, there was a prize, but we were beaten by another group. (It was a very "Amazing Race" moment as we crossed the finish line and realized that someone else had come in first.)

Anyway, I had to sleep for about three hours when I got home. Not the comfiest night's sleep I've ever had...but a very, very cool event otherwise.

A couple of days ago, I signed up for our next Zoo even -- a "Cool Cats" tour and activity for Avery on a Saturday morning in November. (Which should assuage some of the guilt I felt when telling her I was going to go away over night for Snore and Roar. She asked, "you're going to the Zoo? Can I come?" and I had to reply, "No. This is not for children."

What Can I Say? The Man Can Work A Sequined Suit.

Chris Isaak was great. He always does a really good show.

I was worried at first, because we got great seats this time, and Miss Uber-Fan (totally acted like a teeny-bopper, although she was certainly not teeny, and was also not a bopper -- she was about 35 years old) was seated next to me. She kept screaming "Wo-HOOO!" and "Go, Chris!".

As I am a very tolerant and patient person, this led me to roll my eyes a lot and Tim to begin getting scared, because he knows how charming I am whenever someone like that is seated next to me. Somehow, though, (God's will? Miracle? My prayers working?) she left after three songs and never came back. (Her blog today probably reads, "so at first, I was totally seated next to this uptight, eye-rolling bitch and I thought the show was going to suck. But then I got up and moved to where the fun people are.")

He sang a lot of great new stuff and even did a couple of covers (and I'm a sucker for the covers -- 'specially Cheap Trick's "I want you to want me")

As we were waiting in line for the bathroom at one point (Canetto and I had a few beers in the car before we went in), I told him the story about the time I went to Wolf Trap with Meredith back in the day. Her father had scored us some backstage passes for the Harry Connick, Jr. show. We were sooo excited. The concert was great...then we went backstage and lined up to have our few minutes with Harry. I kept thinking of all of the clever things I could say to him and what the perfect balance would be between complimentary and suck-uppy. For about twenty minutes I thought about this and it was finally my turn to be memorable and say something to him that no one had ever said before.

I shook his hand, looked right at him and said, "Hey." Yup. That's it. "Hey."

I'm sure that made the liner notes for his next CD.

Great Article

And a very important article written by my friend, Ericka:

http://www.independent.com/news/2008/aug/14/how-my-unquestioned-faith-medical-profession-went/

But Enough About Me, Let's Talk About You. What Do You Think About Me?

(NOTE: This post is a recap of the past weekend and a look ahead to the coming one. Yes, I could just insert a copy of my calendar page here and be done with it. Silly readers. Don't you realize just how indulgent it is to have a blog? You must be inundated with the many insignificant details of my past and future plans. It is so good to have a forum.)

I love weekends. I know I am alone in my radical views.

This past one -- great! On Friday, Canetto had to work late on a proposal, so I took the Pants to the Schirmer's house to visit with them and new baby Charles. Avery was such a big girl and so sweet. While I held Charles on my lap, Avery sat right next to me and caressed his legs very softly and talked to him very quietly. (I'm sure she's making her case for siblings...every day I get a request for "lots of brudders and sisters.") (And yes, she does say it just like a mobster.) (Which may be appropriate, considering that they would be "joining da family.")

Saturday, we went to Chris and Jay's house for a barbecue to celebrate Jay being back from Iraq. We brought a gift of a baseball, hot dogs, apple pie and a Chevy matchbox car. There were a million kids there under the age of five. Good for Avery and fun for us, too. It's a lot easier to mingle with people sometimes when you have kids in common.


Sunday, we finally made good on our promise to take Avery to the Water Mine in Reston. (Where do the summer weekends go?) How did I not know this place existed? What a great way to spend a couple of hours on a summer weekend. She laughed and played for three hours straight. We had such a great time. (For those, like me, who were not aware that this place existed --it is near the Reston Zoo and has many water slides and a river rafting pool -- totally cool for the 10-and-under set.)

Hanging out with Avery is getting more and more fun. Mainly because she is beginning to understand why potty humor and the word "butt" are so hysterical. (Wiping sentimental tear from corner of eye.)

On the way to the water park, we all joined in singing one of our favorite family car songs:(sung to the tune of "The Farmer in the Dell")

Avery has a cute butt
Avery has a cute butt
Heigh-ho the derry-o,
Avery has a cute butt

(Which then morphs into Heigh-ho the derriere and then goes into additional rounds with both daddy and mommy having cute butts. We're an easy-to-amuse family.)

This week? Thursday night is our annual Chris-Isaak-at-Wolftrap concert. Canetto got the tickets the moment the ticket sales opened for the season so we have great seats. We have been going to see him for years and he always puts on a great show. Friday night, I'm going to Snore and Roar at the National Zoo. (Oh, what a cute thing to do with Avery, you're thinking. A behind the scenes tour of the zoo and then an overnight in a tent on the zoo grounds? What a cool mom you are. Yes, I am a cool mom, but that is beside the point as this event is adults-only. I'm going with my friend, Hillary and her mom, Nancy. There will be stories, oh yes, there will be stories.)

After a trip to the vet Saturday afternoon in which it will cost me several hundred dollars to traumatize my cats with a car ride and shots and find out that Brooke will need her anal glands expressed again, Tim and I are having (a kid-free) dinner at Bazin's in Vienna with our friends, Julie and Andrew.

Sunday marks Avery's first-ever friend birthday party. (Well, the first one at someone's house -- they've had several in her classroom.) I don't know who's more excited -- us or her. I shopped for Megan's gift yesterday afternoon and felt tremendous pressure for it to be just right. (And also, as a mom of a same-aged kid, I wanted it not to be messy, loud, or have a million small pieces.)

You Don't Have To Get All Huffington With Me

My friend (and Meredith's husband), John Marshall, made the front of the Huffington Post today!

www.huffingtonpost.com and scroll down to
Outwit, Outchoose, OutVeep

Also check out www.tyrannosaurusrocks.com

Fly Me To The Moon

Painfully shy does not even begin to describe me in the first 16 years of my life. I could not talk to anyone on the phone, I got straight A's in school because I was terrified of attention being drawn to me if I ever had anything other than the right answer and I rarely spoke a word to anyone.

This is a bit of background for the story I'm about to share.

When I was in morning kindergarten at the Van Duyn school in Syracuse, New York, I had an admirer named Billy Bartlett. He was my teacher. (Okay, that's gross even for me...just seeing if you were paying attention.) Billy was my age -- a peer -- a classmate -- five years old (did I just reach the point where I'm protesting too much?) In his attempts to woo me, Billy came up with many stories -- including one about him being an astronaut and going to the moon.

Apparently, Billy had a thing for the quiet types -- perhaps I came across as mysterious and compelling in my refusal to say anything out loud. Or, maybe he thought I was a mime. I don't know. But he did decide that I was the girl for him. And he was persisent. And because I was so shy, Billy somehow became my boyfriend (whatever that means in morning kindergarten), even though I don't remember having much say in all of it. (I learned later that this personality type is generally referred to as "stalker" who "preys upon women who are vulnerable and do not stand up for themselves" -- ah, the folly of youth.)

Billy's mom worked at the lunch counter at Woolworth. (How many of my younger readers are choking on their lunch as they read that last sentence? Yes, there used to be "lunch counters" and they used to be at Woolworth. Google it, whippersnappers.) Billy had his mother call my mother to arrange a lunch date one day after we got out of morning kindergarten. The plan was that Billy's older brother would pick us up from school and drive us to Woolworth and we'd have a leisurely, romantic lunch and then Billy's mom would drive me home when we were done.

I'm sure this seemed cute to the parents involved and I'm sure Billy loved it, but from the moment it was arranged I was scared to death. I knew I wouldn't be able to talk to his brother or his mom and just having to be somewhere without my mom or dad petrified me.

On the appointed day of our "date," I decided that I just could not go through with it and began my regular walk home with my friend, Cheryl. We got about a block away from school and a car pulled up next to us with Billy, Billy's older brother, and two other teenagers in it. Billy and his brother rolled down the car window and called, "Kathy....Kathy...." I stared straight ahead and kept walking toward home. My friend, Cheryl, tugged on my sleeve and said, "um...I think they're talking to you." Without looking at her, I said..."Look straight ahead and keep walking.." Billy and his brother kept calling my name for the next block or so (and yes, I could hear the other teenagers in the car laughing) and then finally just gave up and drove away. (In my defense...I was already the shyest kid on the planet...and was a nervous wreck about these plans...and then they bring in two other teenagers...just wwwaaayyy too much for my 5-year-old self to handle.)

My mom was furious when I made it home, and called Billy's mom to apologize. (I also remember a pretty intense spanking, though my mother would deny that if you asked her now.) It's amazing I was ever able to have a normal relationship as an adult.

Later that night, Billy's mom drove him over to my house. He came in with a present for me -- a plastic wedding and engagement ring set (likely from Woolworth) wrapped in an empty Cracker Jack box.

I guess the upside for him in my blowing off the date is knowing that it never would have worked out, anyway. I mean, an engagement ring on a first date? That is just moving way too fast. Also, who wants to marry a guy who's never there for you because he's in another galaxy?

The Big O

Oktoberfest is five weeks away. It gets easier every year, as now the whole team knows the drill. Pete and Amy order and pick up all of the food and pre-cook sausages in beer/butter/onions. (Excuse me while I wipe the drool from my chin.) Amanda and Leon order/pick up/set up the keg and glassware and bake and decorate about a thousand (lewdly inappropriate) lebkuchen. Canetto and I set up the festhaus in the backyard and get the house cleaned up. Kevin Morse passes on during the party. We all know our roles and work to make it all come together successfully.

It does seem that the years get shorter in between O'fests, though. Cannot believe we gotta get an invite out in the next week or so. (This year marks the SEVENTH annual Oktoberfest party. My hope is to get to ten, and then take the party to Munich for what would be the eleventh year. Seems like the right way to end the tradition...then maybe we could start doing an annual Cinqo de Mayo party or something....)

(One bit of hilarity? For the past few years, we have managed to time Oktoberfest on the official first day of the Munich Oktoberfest -- hooray for us for being so authentic. However, it has also coincided with Rosh Hashanah. This has made it impossible for my friends Hillary and Scott to make it to the party because they have family obligations for these holidays. As I've said to her for the past few years, "imagine a German celebration NOT taking into account the Jewish holy days..." Anyway...there is no conflict this year and Hillary plans to be at the party decked out in a dirndl. She's awesome.)

Love...Exciting and New...

My friends Amy and Pete had their first baby yesterday -- a little boy named Charles. The whole "Charles" thing is taking some getting used to, as during the entire pregnancy they referred to the child as "Phinneas Einstein". They had a lot of fun with that...whenever anyone asked what they were going to name him, they'd say, "Phinneas Einstein" and then wait for the inevitable, uncomfortable reaction.

When I heard the news yesterday that he had arrived and that everyone was doing well, I burst into tears. Because I hate babies. And when everyone is doing well.

I kid. I was emotional because I know what they are going to experience -- loving this little thing more than they ever thought possible. The only true unconditional love they will experience.

We went to visit them last night and so did Auntie Amanda. We figured the earlier the dilettantes get to influence him, the better. We'd hate for him to show any of us up by having any sort of attention span.

Little Charles has a head full of dark hair and some enormous testicles. He is a little sweetie, too. He let all of us hold him and swaddle him. I've offered to come over and stare at him for hours whenever they want me to.

Words I Hate, Part 4,327

leonine

There Will Be A Test On This Later

I own white pants. There is no good reason for this as I also own a three year old. I was wearing said white pants yesterday when Avery ran up to me, highlighter in hand, and drew a straight horizontal yellow line across my pant leg.

I was talking to my cousin, so I said while pointing to the highlighted area, "that is the most important part of my pants."

Words I Hate, Part 4,326

Morsel. 'Nuff said.

Oh No You Di-int

If you're gonna read my blog and *ahem* "borrow" my posting titles...the least you can do is comment on the postings now and then. I'm just sayin'...

Fab Weekend Plans

Tomorrow morning we're heading to Richmond to see friends of Tim's from high school (Fred and Barb). We have not seen them in years and are really excited to catch up. Fred and Tim were part of a group of guy friends in high school in Rochester, New York, that referred to themselves as the "Fab Five." (Yes, I am a very lucky woman. Especially when you consider that the Fab Five went to a local mall to have their faces dot-matrix-printed onto a felt wall-hanging with the title "A Touch of Class" on it. Sometimes the "A Touch of Class" wall-hanging mysteriously makes it onto the wall during gatherings with our friends. No, it will never stop being hilarious.)

Sunday, my cousin, Jay, and his wife and daughter are coming over for brunch and swimming (the brunch and the swimming are done independently of one another -- it's just too hard to balance the plates). This is our once-a-year get-together that I very much look forward to.

Sunday evening, we're heading to Pete and Amy's house in Arlington for a last hurrah before their baby is born on Tuesday. This will be their first baby and they have no idea how profoundly their life will be changing in just a few short days. They're gonna love it!

Today, Canetto has taken the day off to go to the dentist, clean the pool, do the laundry, pack for our trip to Richmond and make a grocery list so I can do the shopping later tonight. He's a gem. (With a touch of class.)

Sucker Punch

Yesterday at school, Avery wanted to sit on some cushions in the classroom that were already occupied by one of her classmates. This classmate loves his pacie, so he was relaxing there with his pacie in his mouth, minding his own business.

Avery pulled the kid's pacie out of his mouth and tossed it across the room. The kid ran to get it, and she took his place on the cushions.

I'm not thrilled that she did that instead of requesting that he simply move, but I am kinda impressed by her ingenuity.

Dramedy

Yet another Frankenstein word that I hate. Ugh.

Carving A Niche

Avery has been programmed to say that Barack Obama will be the next president of the United States. She can also identify him now. So, whenever he's on the news (or yesterday, when one of his ads popped up on the computer), she points to his picture and says, "Barack Obama."

She will also let me know that "he lives in DC" and that "so do Amanda and Leon." (I believe at one point she assumed that Amanda and Leon lived WITH Barack Obama, which, if you guys are reading, might not be a bad idea considering the upcoming home renovation -- one would imagine there are a few extra guest rooms in the White House and you could argue that you're already paying for it...)

As the idea person here, I'd expect invites to at least a few State Dinners. I could be the special "politically retarded" guest who would try to change the topic from politics to fart jokes. Whaddaya say?

Seamus's Law

It is never more desirable to do a full-body rub against my leg than when that leg is clad in dark pants and ready to head out the door to work.

When People Do Sleep Well, Do They Say They Have "Somnia"?

We're going to see The Dark Knight tonight at the Udvar-Hazy Center. (I love saying Udvar-Hazy and try to work it into conversation as much as possible. Udvar-Hazy, Udvar-Hazy, Udvar-Hazy.)

Should be fun -- I've heard good things about the movie. Would be more up for it if I had not been awakened at 3:00am by the Pants; read Money magazine and wondered if my financial planner was taking too much of a percentage until 4:30am; and then had to be at physical therapy at 7:30am.

Dear Sleep: We had some good times and I will always remember you fondly. Dear Coffee: You are the new love of my life.

We Met The Law And The Law's Fun

Last night after work, I went to dinner at my friend Terri's house. (Lemon pepper pasta with shrimp, feta, fresh spinach and tomatoes...>happy full sigh<.) After dinner, we went to her annual neighborhood ice cream social that was being held in a community park nearby. [One of her neighbors is the mayor of Fairfax -- he was also in her high school graduating class at Fairfax High -- he also owns The Sweet Life Cafe in Fairfax, so he provided all the ice cream for the social. Everyone in Fairfax City is connected in some way -- which was underscored when we spotted the mother of the VP of my company (company is located guess where? Yes, Fairfax) scooping ice cream for the neighbors.]

We mingled, we met neighbors, we patted dogs...it was really pretty fun.

But the best part of the evening was when the policemen and the firefighters showed up -- we had so much fun with them -- especially one firefighter named Andy who was totally sarcastic and hilarious. At one point during our chat with him, he took an important call from his Chief. Apparently, they compare notes on which of these neighborhood gatherings is most fun and the most senior members of the team get to go to the good ones. (Last night was some kind of national neighborhood night out or something, so there were twelve of these scheduled in the area.)

I requested a plastic fire hat from another firefighter (he was handing them out to the kids there), telling him that I had a three-year-old who would love it. His response? "Suuuuure you do."

We ended our evening by asking a nice policeman to take a picture with us pretending we were perps who were getting arrested. He obliged, but did request that we don't put it up on "some crazy web site." Apologies there, officer.

Trespassers

I looked out my bedroom window down to the pool below this morning and saw A SNAKE swimming in the shallow end (it had obviously listened to its parents about NOT going in the deep end unless they were there with it).

Knowing this had the makins' of an adventure, I immediately woke Avery up and brought her outside with me to perform a snake rescue. Let me assure you that if we did not have a 10-foot pole (that's what she said) with a net on the end, I would have left said rescue to Canetto -- I don't need to be a hero.

As it was, I scooped up the snake and tossed him over the fence (you know, so he could find his mommy and daddy).

Then, Avery found a frog in the deep end. I could tell that we were maybe half a day late for this little guy, but Avery felt certain that we could rescue him, too. So, I went through the motions again...scoop/toss/assure toddler frog was finding mommy and daddy.

A few years ago, I also performed a chipmunk rescue from the pool. I'm beginning to think we need a five-inch-tall fence around the perimeter.

Sincere?

After Tim read books to Avery last night, she requested that I come into her room to sing songs.

I sang one, then asked her, "What was your favorite part of today?" (This is a common question I ask when we're winding down at night so we can focus on good things that we did during the day while she's *theoretically* drifting off to sleep.)

She said to me, "Eating a meal with my family. I love you so much." and then not even half a beat later, said, "Can I come downstairs now?"

The Pitfalls Of Working From Home

Today's post from Guest Blogger Amanda:
--------------------------------------

So I'm interviewing this guy for a job at the firm today (over the phone), when Leon's Red Sox bottle opener (the kind that talks when you open a bottle) decides to malfunction.

In the middle of this nice gentleman giving me his spiel on why he's dying to work for my company, we hear, "Way back! Way back! Grand Slam! The Red Sox win this one folks!". Twice.

Luckily, I got it together enough to find the mute button on the phone and throw the opener in a drawer, but not before the guy got completely flustered and confused. Oops.

Meanwhile, I'm laughing so hard, I'm about to pee my pants. Didn't pay attention to a word the guy said. I'm passing him along to the next phase. I figure it's the least I can do.

Losin It One Marble At A Time

As I was leaving work yesterday, I stopped into the kitchen to retrieve Avery's bottle from the fridge. (I put it there when I come in every morning so that she has a nice, cold roadie for the way home.)

I looked in the fridge and it wasn't there. I took everything out and looked on every shelf -- not there. And this was the second time in a few days that this had happened. I was not quiet about this...I started complaining loudly about how weird it was that someone would take a baby bottle filled with milk. (Actually, I was sure someone was either playing a joke on me or had thrown it away when cleaning the fridge.) Whatever. One of my friends helped me look and also couldn't find it. At one point I believe I said, "I distinctly remember coming in this morning and putting the bottle on the shelf." Indignant, I was.

I called Tim on the way home and told him about the mystery of the disappearing bottles. His response? "Um...you had physical therapy this morning and I dropped Avery off, so you didn't have a bottle."

Oh.