I spent way too long trying to figure out the best way of making my installation of new windows sound like I had installed the operating system.
Yup… dumb. But so much quieter than the 93 year old double-hung, single-panes that we replaced.
If one were to look at the periodicity of posts lately, they’d probably notice long stretches with nothing, a flurry of posts, then nothing again. I feel like I should apologize, but that’s just the midwest in me.
Mom’s back to work now too, so Ella is spending her days (long ones, at that) with my parents. This is wonderful, and I love them and can’t imagine anyone better for my daughter. It’s also saddening because it’s time that we’re not spending with her, and going back to work has been the hardest part so far. (I didn’t have to carry her for 10 months)
I took the day off and wanted to go to a Mommy Matinee with Ella, but got overwhelmed with a case of the too muches. Instead of seeing Jackass 2, we hung out on the couch, made noises, fended of pets, and read statistics. Ella’s swing seat was starting to get a little sluggish, so after 3 hours of reading, we walked over to get some batteries and grabbed a glass of Brother Thelonius during the break in the rain. Ella is getting big enough that she hung her head out of the sling the entire walk and seemed to really enjoy the crimson leaves, the chaos of the grocery store, and the shadows at Concordia Ale House. I paid up front so when she started pooping, we were able to beat a hasty, if stinky retreat.
I’m finding that I’ve forgotten 95% of all the song lyrics I ever knew. I’ve discovered this because I get 4-5 words into a chorus singing to Ella when I have to pause, then start making up lyrics, usually involving Ella, poo, diapers, and daddy’s crappy memory. Michelle’s never too far away and will offer a word or two after watching me toil. She remembers lyrics.
I suspect my lyrical memory has been degraded because of my change in musical tastes. Michelle offered that maybe the beer made me forget, but I suspect its the absense of lyrics in most of my music. Here’s a simple diagram of music tastes. The saddest thing? The lyrics I remember best without cues from the song? Weird Al and Jungle Book.
I suppose “stupid father tricks” would be more accurate, but I took this photo of Ella’s giant foot stepping on Cody, WY where I grew up. I picked up the extruded plastic topo map at the FOG map sale.
Things have gotten boring with work, grad school and the baby, so I’ve decided to do a couple maps for Ooligan Press, PSU’s publisher. I’ll be creating some maps about Fort Clatsop and Lewis & Clark’s stay for a book about Fort Clatsop. Should be fun and will provide me with an opportunity to get some work published.
On our drive back from Cannon Beach this weekend, I speculated on the future of wireless services for drivers. We were stuck behind a gigantic Lincoln/Mercury LTD/Town Car going 45MPH on the highway.
Me: “Do you think AARP will ever offer a service like OnStar for it’s members?”
Michelle: “They do. It’s called OnStar.”
Me: “Touché.”
There will be no more intentional over-use of garlic in our meals for the next 6-12 months. While the perfectly roasted cloves were great at the time, often two cloves per bite, they unleashed 3 layers of wrath. Two of the layers of wrath aren’t that important and would be obvious to most folks, but the third layer of wrath came in the form of a daughter who would not sleep. The funk made its way into her foodstream and upset her cute little tummy. It wasn’t until well in to the morning that things got back to equilibrium and she was able to sleep. Baby farts are cuter though.
Tigger and my relationship has been improving for the last 5 years. The last few months, it’s been very good, and I’ve been taking extra care of his food & water supply, complied with incessant need to be in a lap, and I’ve even spoken up for him at times. So why did he puke in my bag? Why did he vomit on to my school work, my work-work, and wrinkle the pages of my books yellow when the cat door was only 2 feet away?
Because cats are assholes.
Ella had her first long car trip this weekend. For an infant, a long trip is defined as any second longer than they can go without eating. For Ella on the way to Yakima, that was almost at The Dalles, but she quieted down until we made it to Goldendale, our normal break spot so Barley can stretch and evacuate.
The weekend was also a bit of a whirlwind tour (the press circuit, as we started calling it) so various friends and family could meet her. Needless to say, she slept well at nights.
The drive back didn’t go as well, she decided she needed to eat again shortly after entering the reservation. It was also shortly after she had just eaten, but whose paying attention?
Traffic, heavy rain, and bright sun dictated we stop again in Goldendale, to again get gas and feed. Then she was satisfied until just outside Troutdale where traffic came to a dead stop on I-84. She was not pleased. Michelle crawled into the back to see what she could do, but it feeding wasn’t an option. She did manage to do a rapid-diaper change without getting poo in the car, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy Ella, who was distraught until we reached home (a little faster thanks to Marine Dr.)
I heard a rumor that the recently vacated La Tazza Rossa spot was going to become a Hot Lips Pizza. Last week I noticed Hot Lips reader boards in the window. Hell yeah!