As Long As I'm Showing Off Pictures That Make You Go "Awwwww"....

Here are the first head shots of Master Joshua:

My sister, Martha Stewart, entirely too young to be a Nana:
Dame Judi, entirely too young to be a great-Nana:
Sean, also too young to be a great grandpa, but obviously proud nonetheless:

Guess that's what happens when you start your family as a young thing.

Too bad the poor kid isn't going to get any love or attention from this crew.

I Am A Great Aunt!

My neice, Tweetums, has given birth to the first of the next generation.

Joshua Dale came into the world early Saturday evening. He has the correct number of all the requisite bits, all in the right places. His great-grandma, Dame Judi, reports that he has a shock of black hair (don't know where that came from) and a lusty cry. She also noted that he was "beautiful".

It is still hard to imagine Tweetums as a mother. It seems like just a couple of days ago I was holding her in my arms and trying to imagine my sister, Martha Stewart, as a mom. It's crazy I tell ya. Crazy good.

Lovely, Lazy Days

About the third thing that happened in O-town, after hugs and champagne, was that Sling asked me to autograph his copy of Unbound Press, volume alpha and omega. I was inordinately giddy, what with no one having ever asked that of me before.Newt, as you can see, wasn't that impressed.

After a leisurely afternoon of laughing and talking and repeating the mantra, "I can't believe we're here", we tucked into a very fine dinner of grilled steaks, salad and garlic bread. The Lizzard King is the Wizazard King when it comes to grilling. And Sling was careful to point out that they eat like that all the time, it wasn't just for show for the visitors. Lucky.

As the smoke-hazed sun sank over O-town we found ourselves with glasses of wine, back on the porch, as Sling picked and strummed his ol' guitar. Was it magical? Yes. Was it fun? Yep.

Did certain people spill wine more than once? Uh huh. Was that person me? No.

---

While in O-town we did more than sit on the porch. But you must understand that the only expectation Hat and I had was just to sit around with Sling. Every post he's ever written strikes us as something that would be said over a glass of something while shooting the breeze on the front porch. A kitchen table would also suffice, but with temperatures lurking around 90, the porch was a fine, cool thing.

But yes, we got up long enough to fulfill some other vacation hopes. Oh, we are simple, simple girls. Do you know what we wanted to do, besides sit around talking? We wanted to eat breakfast where there were good hash browns and we wanted to see the park and gazebo that are often features of Sling's Twainesque posts.

Thus, we had breakfast at Barb's House of Waffles and One Hour Martinizing. Delicious, perfect hash browns. Sling bogarted the ketchup.

Hat felt that Barb's had the best menu in all the land.

There was a quick visit to the Salvation Army so Hat and I could buy appropriate summer clothes. People in Seattle don't have summer wardrobes and the coolest things we brought weren't quite sufficient for the heat.

Then we explored the lush beauty of Sank Park, which surrounds the historic home of O-town's founding mayor and original concrete shoe manufacturer.

The Child said it reminded her of "Gilmore girls". It was all very pastoral and made me want to sing selections from "The Music Man".

But there was more. Sling, ever the consummate host, made sure that Hat and I were replete in baby toes and sugar kisses.

Oh, they were delicious. (Lizzard King has a brother. Those are his spawn, Baby Eft and her big brother, Salamander.)

And speaking of delicious, Saturday afternoon was cooled down by the never-ending margarita pitcher.

(I'll have you know that Sling was exceedingly put out when he discovered that his local wine and spirits emporium didn't have any Triple Sec. "By jove!" he all but thundered, "What sort of wine and spirits emporium doesn't carry Triple Sec? I say". He intended, you see, to make the margaritas from scratch. But when it is very hot and one is spending the afternoon on the porch, the stuff made with a mixer will do).

For dinner LK grilled up some of the most delicious, moist chicken I've ever eaten. Bobby Flay can kiss his prehensile tail.Entertainment on Saturday evening consisted of play Guitar Hero with LK and it brought about the only case of "sheesh" I had all weekend. You see, LK destroyed me. He was killing on the medium level while I couldn't even manage songs on easy. Songs, mind you, that at home I score 100%. What was the trouble? I blamed it on the calibration of the XBox guitar. Which was actually semi-legitimate as The Child had the same problem. For a second, though, I was totally afraid that with my much ballyhooed Guitar Hero skillz being called into question, so would the legitimacy of all my blogging. (Well, except for the stuff about Hillary Clinton. I was totally right about all that).

Hat said I was silly.

And speaking of silly, she should know. Sling, gentleman that he is, gave over his room to we girls for the weekend. The Child tried to sleep on the love seat (and then made a bed on the floor of the cushions...she's getting long) and Hat and I shared Sling's bed. The good news is that neither of us snore. The bad news is she claims that I am a sheet thief.

Now, the Hat and I have a long standing tradition of laughter and general giggltry. There were more than a few occasions on the drive down when I was tempted to pull over and compose myself, she had me going so hard. But that was nothing compared to what happened when the lights went out. All of a sudden, no matter how tired we were, we'd start whispering and the whispers would lead to giggles and the giggles would birth into full blown guffaws, which we tried very hard to bury in our pillows but to little avail. The first night Sling called from the living room, "You girls settle down in there!" The second night The Child had to do the same thing.

But it was very hard to do, you see. Because when you are full up to the brim with joy and delight, laughter has to bubble out. Otherwise you might explode and that would be very unpleasant for everyone.

How Was Your Easter? Mine Was Great. Thanks.

The food was pretty awesome.
There weren't any leftover potatoes.
The centerpiece was pretty.The BAH was, as always, a masterpiece. The remains are now in the freezer, awaiting Pentecost.

The company was jovial, there was the annual singing of "I Don't Know How to Love Him". People played Guitar Hero.But there was some unpleasantness. It had to do with The Baby. His parents, Seattle Coffee Girl and The Prince are really lovely people, don't get me wrong. But no one really likes their baby.

Uncle Jerry doesn't like him.


I don't like him at all.Ree Ree doesn't like him and as you can see, The Neighbor isn't the least bit impressed with him.
Not to mention, he has some very unpleasant table manners. When he's not chewing on the good linens, he's drooling.You know what the real problem is? The kid is just so dour and lacking in personality.A shame really.

Happy Easter, from our house to yours.

Ah-ah-choooooo

I need bacon. Specifically, I need bacon fat. Oh, yes I do. Because I have 4 tomatoes in my garden that are never going to ripen and they need to be fried.

I sit so wrong on my desk chair that it isn't even funny. I'm going to cripple myself. My friend Julie says I should get one of those big balls to sit on because it would force me to sit properly. But then I couldn't pull one leg under myself and stick the other one up on my desk when I play SimCity. Apparently I'm not overly concerned about the cripple thing.

I miss JP. I want him to move to Seattle.

The Child is playing volleyball with Bad Coach. Last week only 6 girls showed up for the game so he had to play everyone. It must have killed him. It probably bugged him even more that The Child pretty much single handedly scored every point in their first game, got all her serves over and was generally not making any mistakes. And his 3 favorite players were largely useless. Hi, the ball is at the net. It's called spiking.

My kitchen is clean.

My cold makes me snore. Last night The Spouse hit me. Then I was afraid to fall back asleep. Even though he was snoring. I need my own room.

The season premiere of "Brothers and Sisters" was really good. I think there's a Cindy Sheehan storyline coming up for Sally Field. The Hat thinks I look like Rachael Griffiths. I wish.

I miss Chicago. I coul really go for the view from the Balcony of Terror about now.

I'm going to go see my baby tomorrow. He misses me. I love him.

Add Your Own Soundtrack

I am feeling really overwhelmed right now.

So far this week I've spent the majority of my time doing things that have been important and necessary but not always actually things I've wanted to do. Like school meetings and research. I'm getting way behind on household stuff and website stuff and there are grapes that need to be harvested but there's no sense in doing that until I have time to turn them into jelly and uh, yeah, a quick check of the calendar says that ain't going to be any time soon.

Plus, I'm sick of fundraising and school has just started.

We always have to do fundraising. There's about a $2500 gap between what we pay in tuition and what it actually costs to educate a student. Which means each family has a modest fundraising obligation over the course of the year. The first fundraiser, which The Child won't even be participating in, is this weekend. But she's still fundraising for it and so far has received nearly half of what we need to honor our obligation. She so rocks.

But on top of that, there's fundraising for the 8th grade trip to DC. And the people in leadership on this are starting to really get on my nerves, for a variety of incredibly valid reasons that I won't bore you with. Except to say that I'm this close to telling them that I'll get her to DC one way or the other and they can leave me the frak alone for the rest of the year.

I could rant about something else related to school but I won't. Because it's boring. It amounts to sideline thumb twiddlers complaining about things in which they are unwilling to personally invest. Know what I say to that? Shut the frak up.

But it does kinda make a person ask the question, "Why am I bothering with this?"

Oh right. Because I love my child and I love her school.

On a brighter note, I got to see my baby yesterday. Let's all ooh and ahh at him, shall we?


And my niece Molly, who cracks me up daily, posted this video of her dancing. It was shot before (or after, I forget) a play she was in. Someone put on a song she loves and she started goofing. It makes me laugh. Even without sound.



Now I'm going to grab my timer and see if I can't accomplish something useful.

Madonna and Child

'Nuff said.

"Have You Seen the Pictures of My Nephew?" she asked, insufferable in her pride.

I realize I had nothing to do with this and nor am I actually related in a "let me know if you need a kidney" sort of way but ding dong, this whole baby Charlie thing is just too good to not blather about.



SCG is family. She found us when she was fresh to Seattle and we gave her a table to sit at when going home to California wasn't an option. Her very own mother has more than once thanked us for being SCG's support system. When she started dating her Prince she insisted that we meet him...not just because she had a new beau but because, you know, we kinda had to approve. (We so did...but if he hadn't been good enough for her she would have heard about it). And through the 13 years that we've known her there've been lots of laughter and sad tears and happy tears and killer Mexican food and prayer and all the sorts of things that bond people inextricably to each other.

Her Prince was a part of our circle before they even married. And now they've brought a baby into the world and into our circle and it's just been a really long time since there was a baby in our circle. 6 years, in fact.

(Never really thought about this before but there isn't a very high rate of breeding in our circle. Too bad, because there really should be so many more people like us).

(I kid).

Anyway, blather blather. I love me some babies, especially when they come from one of my best friends ever. Especially when I know that he is going to grow up knowing who we are and spending as much time with us as if we were his actual kin. And I know that he is going to love me more than any of his other aunties because he already told me so. Also, he is absolutely mesmerized by me. See?

It is such a hopeful thing when a baby enters the world. Especially when, you know, it was all intentional and desired. And yeah, those of us who've been there know it ain't all wispy hair and sweet milk breath and baby kisses. But these early days are all about the wonderment of it all.

And even though we understand all the processes involved in forming a human, there is still, simply, something miraculous about looking at a brand-new one, examining all the perfect little bits and the teeny tiny fingernails and being washed over by hope. Here is yet another chance to get this whole human adventure thing more right than wrong. Here is someone who can grow up to choose light over darkness, do some good in the world. He might grow up to be a scientist or an artist, a reformer or a philanthropist. Or maybe he'll be a guy with a 9-5 job who lives each day with integrity and a thought for others, who will marry someone similarly inclined and have a beautiful baby who will be yet another chance for goodness and light and love in the world. And it is always amazing to me that such big thoughts and futures and dreams can be represented by something that can't yet hold up its own head.

This is me, resisting the urge to sing "The Circle of Life". You're welcome.

Anyway, the best part of today is knowing that as soon as I leave work I get to go back to the hospital to kiss my baby on his head some more. Yay!

Cue the Oxytocin

Oxytocin. The hormone secreted when a humanoid sees a little baby something. The thing that makes you - however jaded, cynical, tired - go "aaaahhhhhh" when you see a baby something. You know, something like this:


What? I was born under George Bush? That gives me gas.This one is for Monica.Ladies and gentlemen, Master Charles Maurice.Auntie is superfantastically proud. Just in case you didn't know.

Caffeine Hobbled Happy Dances, Part Deux

I am very pleased to announced that the lovely and vivacious Seattle Coffee Girl was safely delivered yesterday of a son. And I was all ready to tell you his name but then thought, wait, she might not want me to do that. So let's call him Master Bean for now. I didn't get any birthday photos as I managed to leave my camera in the car and didn't feel like schlepping all the way back to level C of the hospital parking garage once I realized my idiocy.

Anyway, as is the way of fresh new perfect babies, the world just brightened up and seemed a smidge more hopeful yesterday. And when I finally held him in my arms and whispered oh so lovingly to him that Alberto Gonzales wasn't AG anymore he smiled. And I know it was a smile and not gas because I know these things. Shut up.

Right, so yesterday afternoon was comprised of a whole lot of waiting around with 412 members of The Prince's family, which wasn't as awkward as it could have been since I met them all at the wedding last September but after a while I was, indeed, feeling somewhat interloperish. And that's when I realized that I was possibly more bummed than previously realized about the whole not-being-a-the-doula-because-she's-having-a-c-section thing. Certainly, I would have had something to do besides sit and smile while the tribe talked about all these people and things I didn't know. Don't get me wrong. They are lovely people. Still.

Anyway, 'round about 5, a very beaming Prince, whose feet were in fact not touching the floor, formally presented Master Bean to us, all nearly 9 pounds of him. And after a 3 minute flurry of oohing, aahing and hugging, they whisked away and we sat again for another, lord, 2 hours? waiting to see the family in the post-op room. Why so long? Because once they were allowed to receive visitors, this gigantic tribe of people started trooping in in little knots of 2s and 4s. And I couldn't very well muscle in ahead of freshly minted grandparents and aunts and uncles with a "if things had gone to plan I'd've already been in there so back off chumps" sort of thing. So, lacking credentials and bloodlines, I waited until last.

The good news? Stina and Dave had arrived and since they didn't have credentials or bloodlines either, we waited together in the cheap seats and that was superfantasically good. Kept me from chewing off my own arm and everything.

But it was all as it should have been because, though I say it, we were just saving the best for last. We might not be blood but we are family and besides, we were the ones with champagne (good move, Stina). I held that blessed little baby, f-i-n-a-l-l-y, and told him how beautiful he is and how much Auntie loves him and all about the AG (when he smiled) and I even stroked his little head and told him it was OK when that mean old nurse came in and pricked his wittle foot for a stupid old blood test.

We drank champagne.

We said an Our Father.

We welcomed him into the world.

And me without my camera.

I'm taking The Child to meet Master Bean this afternoon when I get off work. I will get him to pose for me then.

happy dance happy dance happy dance happy dance hap-stupid hot coffee-py dance happy !

It's Hard to Drink Coffee When You're Doing a Happy Dance

Here' s your hat, Alberto. Don't let the door hit you on your way out.

Thus endeth one of the, no, make that the most horrifying chapter in the history of the US Justice department. Now maybe we can find our way back to those principles upon which this nation were founded.

Rumor has it Michael Chertoff is to be nominated to the position. I think I'd like that. He seems to play clean-up on Bush's sorry-arsed team. He managed to tidy up after Michael "Heckuva Job" Brown sat on his thumbs during the Katrina debacle 2 years ago. I wouldn't mind seeing what he could do with the Justice department. Lord knows he won't be worse than Gonzales and he'll pretty much have an imperative to, if not clean house, at least dust and sweep the foyer.

I mixed a baseball metaphor with a housekeeping one. Sorry.

That's it for now, puppies. Busy day, what with working and babies being born and trying to make sure The Child is working on her book reports while she's here and I'm there. That'll be fun.

Yesterday we went down to Dame Judi and Sean's for a little family soiree. I have pictures and will try to write about that later. Unless something else exciting happens. Like Dick Cheney being indicted or something.

Thanks for stopping by anyway.

Thursday Bits

The Child is coming with me to work today for just a bit. SCG is picking her up and taking her off to be a little almost-mama helper. The clock is ticking down on impending motherhood and SCG has some things she wants to get done before that.

I was going to be SCG's doula until her OB declared (a week ago) that the baby is looking to be about 10 pounds now (with a due date of Sept. 2). The doc said the odds were real high that she could labor and labor and labor and ultimately need to have a C-section. So they've gone ahead and scheduled it for Monday. That means I won't be doing doula duty but I'll get to be with her in the recovery room. Yeah, I'm kinda disappointed but we're all a little relieved that there won't be any frantic 3am "we're in labor" calls. All nice and tidy and on the calendar. If you gotta do it, you gotta.

It all seems a little unreal. We've know SCG since she was in college; she and The Spouse were in the same RCIA class, back when The Child was just a wee bit. She became a beloved part of our little community and we've walked with her through all sorts of "growing up" sorts of experiences...losing a parent, graduating, getting a "real" job, meeting and marrying her Prince. Now she's going to be a mommy and I can hardly stand it! I can't wait to meet the little beggar and pinch his wittle wittle cheeks!

In other news, I think I mentioned that The Spouse is making a movie next month, a little short written by the fabulous Iwanski. We had a rehearsal last night. It's coming together but I'm still not off book. I just don't have any time to work on my lines right now. Fortunately, I'm sleeping with the director so he's cutting me some slack.

I was the lead in every student body play from 5th-8th grade. I loved, loved, loved acting. And I was, though I say it myself, not half bad at it. But I didn't have much drive or competitive spirit. Once I got to high school, I couldn't bring myself to go out for big roles. What if I didn't get it? (I realize that is a very sad little statement...fear of rejection kept me from doing something I really enjoyed. But I was not a child possessed of enormous confidence. So there you go. And that's why Meryl Streep is famous and I'm not.)

I was in the chorus of "Finian's Rainbow" my freshman year and played Annie, the nervous housemaid, in "Life with Father" my junior year. I actually won the Best Supporting Actress award for that portrayal. (See, no small parts, only small actors). But the acting bug had pretty much fled by college. Although I dated some actors. That was enough drama for me.

Anyhoo, point is, I'm excited to get in front of the lights again, after all these years.

And now, all of a sudden, I find thoughts of work and all that I need to do today crowding into my head, leaving no room for bloggy observations. Let me tell you something: I am very grateful that this Little Job came along when it did, for many reasons. But I will be soooooo glad when I'm done. It's so nice to make a little bit of money while clarifying that no, working in an office is not even remotely what I want to be doing at this time in my life. It's nice to have that confirmed.

Thursday Tosh

Thanks for all your good wishes yesterday about what I am now calling the Little Job. It's not that big a deal, really, given the money and the hours but it accomplishes a few things, not the least of which is effectively ending my summer as of tomorrow. But I realize that 99.9% of you work full-time and have 2 weeks, maybe, of summer anyway so whining about that would probably not warrant any sympathy. So I won't.

Pamelamama left a comment celebrating "worthwhile work". I don't know that this qualifies. It's hardly my dream job. The more I think about it, my dream job is building a miniature replica of all the sets for "Battlestar Gallactica" and selling tickets so people can come see my little tiny Play-doh® Laura Roslin and Bill Adama. So I'm looking at this as seed money for that project.

---

Here's something else I haven't mentioned yet:

A few weeks ago Seattle Coffee Girl asked if I would be her doula when Buffy comes. Of course I said "yes". One of my dearest friends was with The Spouse and I when I brought forth The Child and I swear it wouldn't have been accomplished without her. There's just something about having another woman there, whose been through it and knows you well, to make the job just a little easier. Plus, I'll have the privilege of being one of the first people ever to see the little beggar and that's exciting to me.

I should point out that the use of the word little in this instance is ironic. He looks to weigh about 9 pounds already and her due date is September 2. Can you say "inducing"? "Yes, miss, I'll have a gin and tonic and would you bring a Castor oil on ice for my friend here?"

It's all terribly exciting. It's been a long time since our circle had a baby around and he stands to become one of the most fawned over babies in history. Do keep her in your thoughts and prayers, won't you?

---

People were grumpy in my house last night. That was lame.

Here's what a typical evening looks like. The Child is usually off playing or zoned out in front of the TV. I'm usually in front of the computer. The Spouse comes home. We say "hi". Then he gets in front of the computer. And sometimes, sure, the greetings are a bit more effusive than "hi" but we all stay in our separate little areas until it's time for dinner and I don't know but I'm thinking that isn't optimal.

When we first got back from France, years and years and years ago, we adopted the concept of apertif, having a nice leisurely drink, a little nibble of something and some polite decompression conversation when The Spouse came home. Then he'd be left to further down time while I got dinner ready. That was nice. And we totally got out of the habit because frankly, our culture doesn't really support that sort of thing. We're really just not a "take some time and have a leisurely anything" sort of culture.

Hurry up and get out the door. Hurry up and work. Hurry up and take a break but hurry back because there's work to do. Hurry up and cook dinner and eat it in 10 minutes because I have homework/a meeting/a TV show at 8. Oh! Look at the time! I'd better hurry up and get to bed.

Our family doesn't even really operate at such a frantic pace most of the time but that "hurry up" thing is still at play somehow anyway. I'm feeling a serious need to don some pearls and greet The Spouse with a nice dry martini when he gets home tonight. May sound a little June Clever but Ward and June had it going on.

---

And finally, this song has, for no particular reason, been on my mind for days.





"It's My Life" Talk Talk

---

Now I have to go put baking soda on The Child's foot. She's sporting her second yellow jacket sting of the summer and she's not happy.