The Lion and the Scorpion

Ivan's First Post.

2010-06-06T21:22:00.001-04:00

hi my name is ivan i love sports.

I almost forgot...

2009-01-18T21:12:00.003-05:00

...to post this picture. Sure, Christmas has come and gone, but if you haven't seen this photo of my little guy decorating our Christmas tree, you really need to:

Konichiwa!

2008-12-02T20:55:00.002-05:00

Tonight Ivan and I went to Wegman's, the local grocery store. We ate dinner in their take-out area, and Ivan picked out a pair of chopsticks to eat with (i.e., play with). They had some writing on them, and Ivan asked, "what does that say, Mommy?"

"I don't know, it's something in another language," I said. "Maybe it says Wegman's!" "Well, maybe... I think it might be something in Japanese." Ivan asked, "like what?" "I don't know," I said, "I don't speak any Japanese."

"Konichiwa!" Ivan replied.

Um... Ok, then!

Is he trying to tell me something?

2008-11-10T11:37:00.000-05:00

Yesterday as Ivan and I were walking back from town, he picked a bright orange berry off of a bush.

Me: Don’t eat that.
Ivan: Why?
Me: Because it could be poisonous!

(Pause).

Ivan, holding up the berry: Want one?

Ivan on the Presidential Debate

2008-10-09T10:00:00.001-04:00

Me: Hey Ivan, guess who's on TV tonight? The guys running for president - Barack Obama and John McCain. Should we watch?

Ivan: No, I already saw that show.

Me: They're on again - it's different, they're on right now. Do you want to watch?

Ivan: No! I already saw that show! I've seen it already. I don't want to watch again.

Eyes for Computers

2008-09-15T15:48:00.001-04:00

More Ivan. We were reading one of his favorite books last night, called Honey in a Hive. It is about honey bees and how they live, breed, build hives, and make honey. Last night Ivan was looking closely at one of the illustrations of a bee, and he asked, “Mommy, why their eyes look different?” I asked if he meant that their eyes look different from ours as people. He said yes. I explained to him that bees do different things and have a different purpose from people, and that their eyes are different for that reason – so that they can see what they need to see, and do what they need to do.

Ivan said, “Bees have eyes to see honey, not to look at the computer!”

Like people.

Ivan's Monologue

2008-09-14T15:22:00.002-04:00

From today:

"Mom, you're not a weirdo. You're not any kind of weird, you are beautiful - you're beautiful because I love you. I'm going to marry you when I'm a daddy, and I will bring you flowers for your garden."

August Garden Update

2008-08-23T11:01:00.010-04:00

Behold, the most beauteous sight I have seen all summer:

Yes, that's right. My landlord installed a water faucet on my side of the house! No more hauling water from my second floor apartment down to the garden. Also? I could get Ivan a kiddie pool! It might be a bit late for this summer, but we will see. For next summer, definitely.

Speaking of the garden, here it is:

It is very green and leafy, but not much has been flowering. The actual flowers (cosmos, echinacea, gomphrena, nasturtiums, black-eyed susans) have had minimal blooms. Vegetables have faired only slightly better. My pepper plants had some late flowers after a rough bug-eaten start, and have a couple of baby peppers on them. My beans have done pretty well, and so have the herbs. My cucumbers have been flowering extravagantly, but the fruits on them look awfully prickly, curly, and thin. Weird.

The tomatoes are the big mystery. The plants themselves are doing fairly well, despite only getting 4-5 hours of direct sun per day. They finally - maybe in late July? - had some flowers. Now a few of them have some tiny green fruits. My landlord's tomatoes - planted just on the other side of our house, and getting only slightly more sun than mine - are going gangbusters: tons of big, red, juicy tomatoes.

My next door neighbor, whose garden is almost next to mine, said that he also has had barely any tomatoes whatsoever this year, despite having successfully grown tomatoes in that same spot for thirty years. He claims the problem is chipmunks, but I am not so sure...

Hypothermia Among Friends

2008-07-09T21:19:00.005-04:00

The water at Nauset Beach today was 58 degrees. I don't know enough about average water temperatures to know if that is particularly cold, but it was a good 10 degrees colder than a few days ago. However, my skin did not go numb while I was swimming this afternoon, as it sometimes does, so I know that it was not an extraordinarily cold water day.

I have to admit that I enjoy standing at the edge of the ocean, along with all of the other adults, as their children play in the chilly water. They shake their heads and look baffled at the kids' bravery/hardiness/insanity. I blend in with them, until suddenly I walk quickly into the water, all the way up to my neck. They are surprised, but going in all at once is the only way to get into such cold water. Also, if you don't move quickly beyond the braking point of the waves, they will knock you over.

Today I walked in near an older man wearing a wetsuit. He saw me and said, in a thick Boston accent, "Yah really tuff!"

Thankfull to be on Cape Cod

2008-07-08T09:22:00.005-04:00

I am on vacation this week, on Cape Cod - my favorite place on Earth. Aside from the joy of swimming in the ocean (no chemical-laden pools for me!), something about the Cape speaks to me. The salty, sandy, chilliness of it - even on a hot day, there is always the hint of the cold ocean in the air - reminds me to be thankful. Life can be hard, keeping warm can be hard, growing food in the sandy ground can be hard. The ocean and the weather can both be cruel.

But warm days are gifts, and the vegetables and greens that do make it in the garden remind us that, as Barbara Kingsolver says, food is a process, not a product. The ocean is as healing as it is dangerous.

Yesterday I took a walk around the Cove Burying Ground in Eastham. There are many seventeenth-century gravestones in the cemetery, and one in particular that I always remember. I first saw Thankfull Hedge's gravestone many years ago while visiting this cemetery. I have wanted to go back and take a picture of it ever since, because of her great name. She was 13 when she died. Thankfull's two siblings are buried nearby, as is her father, who outlived all three children (the last one by only two days). It is unknown where Thankfull's mother is buried, or when she died.

Bees and Stings

2008-07-07T21:15:00.004-04:00

I have discovered that I do not know enough about bees.

The phone call came yesterday, from Ivan's father, to say that Ivan had stepped on and been stung by a bee while on vacation at the shore. Ivan's father was talking hospital, Benadryl, infection. I told him that the good news was that we would shortly know whether or not Ivan is allergic to bee stings - a useful thing to know, I believe. Ivan, similarly practical, had screamed bloody murder upon being stung, but all he had to say about it when I spoke to him on the phone was, "Now I feel better."

And the good news is that he is not, in fact, allergic to bee stings. Good news, since one day I would like to keep some bees.

I was asked if the sting could really have been perpetrated by a simple honeybee - rather than a wasp, or a hornet. How did I know it was a bee? Well, I didn't. I hadn't been there. But I have stepped on plenty of bees - plain, unsuspecting honeybees - in my lifetime, and been stung. People do not like to believe that kindly, useful creatures like honeybees can inflict such sharp pain. But we all have our defenses, and the most docile among us will sting if provoked.

Ivan and I took a walk around our town just a few days ago, and discovered hundreds of honeybees working a large lavender bush. We were transfixed. Ivan said, "I've never seen so many bees before!" And, "Mommy, they're not stinging me!" Of course not. They are far too busy gathering nectar and pollen, and in any case honeybees don't sting unless they are very scared, or we do something to hurt them, I told him. He understood, and understood days later why the bee at the shore had stung him. Even for a three-year-old - maybe especially for a three-year-old - the logic of nature is simple and fully comprehensible.

But what about these bees? In southern New Jersey, where I live and where Ivan is on vacation with his father, who are these bees? What species? Are they different from honeybees elsewhere?

Stay tuned.

Two Ivanisms

2008-06-07T08:40:00.007-04:00

First: When Ivan and I go for walks, I teach him the names of all of the plants I can identify. About a week ago, I showed him some Hosta and taught him the name. “Pasta?” he asked – “No, Hosta. But it does rhyme with pasta! That’s a good way to remember it,” I said.

Yesterday, a week later, we were walking and I pointed out some Hosta. I asked Ivan, “Do you remember what this is called?”

“It’s a spaghetti!”

Second: Last night we were laying on the couch after a full day, and I asked Ivan what his favorite part of the day had been.

“Mommy,” he said. “What, honey?” I asked – thinking he had a question. “Mommy!” “What is it? I’m right here, silly!” I asked again, “What was your favorite part of today?”

“Mommy was my favorite part of the day.”

Awww….

Oops, one more!

2008-05-17T18:25:00.006-04:00

I forgot to include this photo in my entry about this year's Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival - a lovely picture of beautiful rovings from Gale's Art:

Maryland Sheep & Wool 2008

2008-05-09T09:28:00.014-04:00

This past weekend was the ever-wonderful Maryland Sheep & Wool Festival. For my loyal readers (or, reader), you might recall that last year’s festival was where my lifelong refrain of "I’m a knitter, NOT a spinner!" began to break down. In fact, the breakdown took the form of a lovely drop spindle and about a pound of vegetable-dyed roving from Handspun by Stefania. The harder they fall...

So, a year – and one Schacht Matchless spinning wheel – later, I went down to this year’s festival with my friend K. On Saturday, we shopped. And shopped. And shopped. We must have spent a good hour going through the fleece show and sale alone. Imagine, two obsessive spinners with a yen to try fiber processing (and don’t get me started on my wonderful, stupendous, and as-yet barely used Strauch drum carder), in a barn with several hundred fleeces of every breed, color, and quantity. So fun.

My haul from the shopping extravaganza:

- One skein of Yarn Place’s Graceful Lace Yarn in shades of purple, from Carolina Homespun;
- Two 4oz Bluefaced Leicester rovings from Gale’s Art - nicest dye jobs I saw all day! - in Rose Garden and Stormy Sea colorways:

- Some unidentified wooly yarn goodness in two shades of purple to knit a felted bag;
- One skein of VERY GREEN yarn from Made By Eye that has already started to become a felted bag;
- Some acid dyes in shades of green and purple;
- Vegetable dye stuffs: Madder, hibiscus, alum, and tartaric acid from Stoney Mountain Fibers;
- A high speed whorl for Miss Ruth, my Schacht Matchless ST;
- One entire Rambouillet fleece (blue ribbon winner!) from the fleece show/sale: 5.25 lbs. from Roclans Farm:

- One entire Finnsheep lamb fleece from the fleece show/sale: 3.25 lbs. from “Max” at Shady Grove Farms:

- A lifetime’s supply of bamboo circular needles;
- A cute little sheep-shaped tape measure;
- A book on cheesemaking;
- Pretty much every kind of lamb sandwich, gyro, and other form of yummy lamb goodness that I could fit into my stomach.

The Rambouillet fleece is currently out for washing and processing at Morro Fleeceworks and will be split with K. and a woman we know from Ravelry.

I also slobbered all over a gorgeous Golding spinning wheel they had on display. Someday...

On Sunday, K. and I brought our three respective children down to the festival to see what all the fuss was about. After a week of weather forecasts involving rain for Sunday, the day turned out... perfectly sunny and dry. Not a cloud in the sky!

The kids had a good time, although Ivan was pretty tired and cranky all day. He did enjoy seeing the sheep, and the bunnies, and the sheep dogs, and he ate an entire ice cream cone. He also (being my son), tested out both a Schact Ladybug ("This is a wheel for little boys, mommy?!") and an Ashford Joy at the Carolina Homespun booth:

Pet Peeve #58957:

2008-02-09T13:09:00.001-05:00

People who, when they realize that you disagree with them, feel compelled to repeat themselves a hundred times about the same subject.

Listen. Just because I disagree with you does not mean I am deaf. It does not mean that I "heard you wrong." It does not mean that I just need to "fully understand" you. It may mean that I think you are an idiot and a jackass to boot - but I guarantee you, pestering me endlessly along the same tired thread is not going to change that opinion one iota.

The First Snow

2007-12-06T10:52:00.000-05:00

The scene this morning after last night's snowfall, the first of this year. May there be plenty more!

It's a Process

2007-12-02T08:15:00.001-05:00

Things I have learned since Miss Ruth arrived: 1) I really, really want to be good at spinning on a wheel; 2) while I am a fair spindle spinner, I suck at wheel spinning, as in, I can't even keep the wheel going in the same %#&@% direction; 3) Corriedale is stickier than molasses and I don't like it any more on the wheel than I did on the spindle; 4) my wheel is the most beautiful thing on earth.

Happily, my friend K. came for a visit yesterday afternoon, played with - I mean, tested - the wheel, fiddled and adjusted, spun for a while, oiled the heck out of all the moving parts, and talked me through my own spinning. The result? Absolutely horrific yarn, but still... yarn. I can do this!

A New Addition

2007-11-29T09:27:00.001-05:00

So, having been completely hooked on the spinning thing this fall, and having spun an entire skein of purple Corriedale wool on a drop spindle:

I dove in for real: I bought a spinning wheel. Not just any spinning wheel, but what is sometimes called the "Cadillac" of spinning wheels - a Schacht Matchless, single treadle. I bought this particular wheel because, well, it is freaking gorgeous, but also because I wanted one that would last me forever, whether I continued as a mediocre hobby spinner, or became more serious about it over time. Oh, and because my life had kind of gone to shit early this fall and I needed a pick-me-up. Now, life has somewhat reconstituted itself and I have a beautiful spinning wheel! Things are looking up.

My son has already named her "Miss Ruth," after one of his day care teachers. It suits her! So without further ado, here be she:

Even Preschoolers Like to Spin!

2007-10-19T08:36:00.002-04:00

October Update

2007-10-14T08:58:00.001-04:00

So, I'm been amiss in not updating on a few things. First, the garden. Far from being the rather barren, grassy spot pictured in a previous post, my hope of creating a real, food-bearing garden in ony a month or two was accomplished! Ok, I didn't get much more than a few tomatoes and some basil and oregano, but considering that I didn't even break ground until August, that's not bad. Next year: the real test.

Here's the garden as it looked just a couple weeks ago. The weather has turned to fall recently, so it's not quite so green any more.

My other update is that after a lifetime of knitting, I have been well and truly sucked into that fringe cult - people who spin their own yarn. Yes. It's that bad.

I blame my friend K., a.k.a. Harmless Drudge. I had resisted the call to spin for many years, but then with her influence, plus a truly eye-opening (and wallet-opening) trip to the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival last May, I was bitten by the Spin Bug. I now not only have a stash of yarn, but a stash of roving (unspun wool). Oh, and I ordered a Schacht spinning wheel, due to arrive in November. Oh, and I already have two drop spindles wound with my fairly successful first attempts to spin. Here's one, with some partially-spun purple Corriedale on it:

Buy Local, Buy Fresh, Buy Sans E. Coli

2007-09-21T11:52:00.001-04:00

See September 19, 2006. That was a year ago, and things aren't getting better.

The local food movement - she's a-growin'!

http://www.altonbrown.com/adventure/knowledge/edible_news.html

At the airport

2007-08-31T22:09:00.000-04:00

Overheard in an airport security line: "I have more stuff in my bra than I do in my suitcase."

Really? This, I have to see. Well, maybe not. Ok, maybe.

What goes on in my mind

2007-07-24T18:43:00.001-04:00

Sometimes I just feel like everything in life is so freaking difficult, and everyone in my life is selfish and difficult and disappointing. I swear some day I'm going to have a bumper sticker made that says "People are always a disappointment." And I feel like I'm here slogging along and trying to survive, and just waiting for the next crappy thing to hit. I want there to be someone around to lean on and to take care of me, just every so often, and there is no one, except sometimes Ivan. No parents, not many friends, no partner. Just me.

And in the Beginning...

2007-07-20T21:54:00.002-04:00

...there was a pile of dirt, some uprooted grass, and just the dream of a new garden.

It killed me to leave behind my hard-won, extensive gardens when I left my old house. But just recently my landlord said, and I quote, "Oh, go ahead and start digging up around there, if you want to." Aha! She doesn't know what she has wrought...

Overheard at work

2007-06-18T11:04:00.000-04:00

“Why can’t we subdivide ‘Beans in Art’ geographically, but yet ‘Gauntlets (Gloves)’ can be?”

Always Ask

2007-05-27T09:02:00.001-04:00

Lesson #295746: It never hurts to ask. Ivan is insane over lemurs, which he has seen in book, on web, and in person (or in lemur?) at the zoo.

My mother, who was visiting, and I went to look around the local toy store – one of those small, floor-to-ceiling kind of neighborhood toy stores, run by a very eccentric man who appears to love stuffed animals and pirates.

I commented that it would be hilarious if some day I could find a stuffed lemur for Ivan. My mother looked at me, and then marched up to the store owner at the front counter.

Mom: Do you carry stuffed lemurs?

Store Owner: Of course. I always make sure I order plenty of lemurs when I re-stock.

Behold, Lulu the Lemur:

Toddlers Like Pool, Too!

2007-05-22T20:05:00.001-04:00

Especially after a hard day at day care:

Sheep and Wool Heaven

2007-05-16T09:24:00.008-04:00

Two weekends ago, I went to the Maryland Sheep and Wool festival. Baa! Held at a fairground outside of Baltimore, it was a two-day extravaganza of sheep breeders and their flocks; bundles of wool and other fibers of all sorts; yarn, yarn, and even more yarn; and all sort of fiber crafts. Oh, and lamb. As, in to eat. Yummers! Surprisingly to those who understand my deep passion for all things knitted, wooly, and farm animalish, I had never been to any sheep and/or wool festival before. Apparently, these things happen all over the country – who knew? Not I.

Oh, the things I bought. I bought two big balls of roving (unspun wool) plant-dyed with indigo and some other plant-like substance, some undyed yarn, a little stuffed sheep for Ivan, etc. etc. I really could have spend hundreds of dollars there – thousands, if I had any place to store sheep... Most importantly, I got a nice, sturdy drop spindle, since I’ve picked up yet another hobby – hand spinning – thanks to my enabler friend K., a.k.a. Harmless Drudge

Check out the amazing drop spindles. Mine isn’t anywhere nearly as decorative, only because I am completely broke:

Look, purty yarn: Look, purty wool:

Look, pit lamb!

Now that I’ve been to such an event, I have of course become addicted, as is my wont. Next up will be the New York Sheep and Wool festival in Rhineland, NY. Whilst in Maryland, I discovered how very much I love sheep. No, not in that way, pervert. They’re just very pleasant animals, and I’d like to have some. They make a nice sound, smell pretty good for hairy farm animals, are reasonably friendly but not in that pushy goat-like way, and plus, they make wool. And they’re tasty. I don’t think they would enjoy the stairs to my apartment, though.

Regardless, the breed I liked best at the festival was the Border Leicester. So very, very cute. Such lovely wool.

When I returned home from my adventures, I showed Ivan all of the many pictures I had taken, explaining to him that sheep fur is called wool, that people spin wool into yarn, and that yarn is what I use to knit with. All the while he had an expression on his face like, “are you shittin’ me, mom?” No, son, I shit you not.

The Eternal Question

2007-03-25T20:48:00.001-04:00

Ivan's learning how to string more complicated questions together - asking what we're doing (“what’s you doin’ mama?”), what we're talking about (what’s you talkin’ ‘bout?”), what we're looking for (“what’s you findin’?”), etc. He has to think about each word and how to put the questions together, but he's getting really good at stringing together the right verbs and nouns.

The other night, as I was applying diaper cream to a little rash while I changed his diaper, the question was:

"What's you puttin' on my heiny?"

Good question to know, kid...

Knit Therapy

2007-03-17T09:24:00.001-04:00

You know what really keeps me going? I mean, when every person in my life is either an idiot or a monumental asshole, and I just wonder why I can't be Queen of the Universe and control everything and everyone because really, it would all be so much better... it's knitting. I think about my current project, and about how after I have slain dragons all day at work, picked up Ivan at day care, fed him, bathed him, played with him, and (God willing) put him to sleep, I will be able to sit my tired ass down on the couch and KNIT. And I feel better. Really. I have something to live for, and look forward to. And it's knitting.

Kind of sad, really. But it works for me.

Really, beer?

2007-02-08T15:26:00.001-05:00

Ivan informed me last night that he didn't drink milk out of my breasts when he was a baby. No, he is quite certain that it was beer.

Window Ice

2007-02-07T20:49:00.000-05:00

I have my bedroom windows sealed with plastic for the winter to keep out the (considerable) draft. On cold mornings there is a lot of condensation on the outside of the windows, and it freezes, making the windows look like this at sunrise:

We're Hardcore

2007-02-07T09:28:00.000-05:00

When I first moved to Htown, my new-ish habitation, it was summer. I was struck by how many of the residents are runners. They run alone, in packs, with their dogs, you name it. In Gtown, my previous place of residence, I was a complete and total freak for running. The neighbors would gawk at me as I went by, often with their huge beer guts flapping in the breeze.

My new, more enlightened neighbors, however, have turned out to be wimps. As the weather grew colder, the numbers of runners grew smaller and smaller. Now, in February, there we are down to three.

I wake up at 6am, and often when I look out my window I see a lone figure, a man, running down the middle of the street in the dark. When I start my run around 6:30, the neighborhood is quiet. But I always look for the woman I think of as my mirror image: a tall, blond, 30-something woman, who I pass at approximately the same place during each run. That’s the three of us.

This morning I woke up to find an inch of snow on the ground. I bundled up and headed out for my run. I could see the distinct footprints in the middle of the street of the man who runs even earlier than I do. And as I passed the halfway point of my run, I passed my mirror image. We both waved – and laughed at each other, because there we were, bundled head to toe, running in the street on an inch of new snow, in temperatures of no more than 15 degrees. Everyone else was home in bed. We felt lucky, and happy.

It's a good thing...

2006-12-31T21:34:00.001-05:00

...that Ivan is cute.

Husband dropped him off this afternoon, and Ivan was talking about the new friend he had met - that would be Katie, Husband's new chick. Ivan met her for the first time today. At first he wanted to call her "Mommy," because she has the same name as me - that didn't really bother me, because when he's referring to me he usually calls me "My Mommy." Very possessive. He's still working out what it means to be a mommy, or be called mommy, or be someone else's mommy, etc.

So, he was cute about it, obviously repeating verbatim what Husband had said about "our new friend." And commenting particularly that she had brought him a lollypop. And then he started calling her "New Katie" to differentiate from me.

Then later as we're walking into town, holding hands, he asked, "Where's Daddy?" - a typical question until he settles into whatever house he's in. No, actually, he said, "Where's Daddy at?" in true Philadelphia style.

I said, "Daddy's at home." Ivan replied, "Oh, Daddy have new Katie." "Yep," I said, "New Katie."

Ivan said, "Daddy have new Katie." Then he said –

-- wait for it --

"I have Old Katy."

BIG Patience

2006-12-15T20:31:00.001-05:00

I took Ivan to Friendly's for dinner tonight. He ate his cheeseburger and some of his fries, and then since he'd gotten a kid's meal, the waitress went to go get him some ice cream.

As he was waiting for his ice cream, sitting across the booth from me, Ivan folded his hands on the table and said, "I have BIG patience."

Jungle Drums

2006-02-15T10:16:00.001-05:00

Sometimes I see a photo of my son from when he was a little tiny baby, and I find that I miss him - as if he has become a completely different person. Which I suppose he has. And a fabulous person, at that. But... I miss my baby. I guess that's why people have more than one child.

Crazy people, anyway.

Our Fair City

2006-02-10T15:22:00.001-05:00

"It all started for me in Philadelphia because it's old enough, and it's got enough things in the air to really work on itself. It's decaying but it's fantastically beautiful, filled with violence, hate and filth."

-David Lynch
http://www.geocities.com/Hollywood/2093/quotecollection/philly.html

Monkey See, Monkey Do

2006-02-10T09:19:00.001-05:00

A word to the wise: Do not, within hearing range of a toddler in the midst of learning to talk, suddenly blurt out, "Fuck! Fuck!! Fuck!!!"

Learn from me, people.

Food is for wearing

2006-02-06T21:11:00.001-05:00

'nuff said.

Sleep, ah, sleep

2006-02-04T20:28:00.001-05:00

Aside from last night, when Ivan woke up twice during the night, he has slept through the night - from 8pm to 6:30am - for FOUR NIGHTS in a row.

I hear angels singing.

That is all.

Toast is the Answer

2006-02-03T10:16:00.001-05:00

So, last night Ivan was a little tired and cranky. He would not abide anything other than to be held constantly, which made unloading the dishwasher and feeding the kitty (or the “titty,” as he calls her) somewhat unwieldy.

At one point, Ivan spied something he wanted – probably two rooms over, probably using his special toddler x-ray vision that allows him to spy a Dunkin Donuts bag from fifty yards away, but not see the coffee table corner right in front of him – and flipped out that this item was not immediately delivered to him.

Since the subsequent thrashing and flailing threatened to injure both myself and his own person, I laid him down on the floor so he could finish his tantrum in peace and relative safety.

I tried tickling him. I tried singing. I tried speaking reasonably to him, having forgotten that I was dealing with a toddler.

Finally, in a final effort, I offered him some cold, unappetizing toast. He abruptly stopped screaming, grabbed the toast, and shot me a look as if to say “Give me that fucking toast already, for God’s sake!!” And then proceeded to quietly eat his toast, still laying on the floor, splayed out mid-tantrum.

This is why I love him.

A tickle- and giggle-fest followed the toast, and happiness was restored.

Here I am.

2006-02-02T16:29:00.001-05:00

Wow. My first blog post. This is exciting... Too bad I have nothing to say. Well, this is really just a test, anyway. More to come.

In the meantime, since it's February, here's a picture of my freakishly cute son this past summer.