Posts

1. Chicken stock, from the rotisserie chicken that we had for dinner on Friday night.  I thought it could stretch and become a nice homemade chicken noodle soup.  So tomorrow I'll be making those homemade noodles.
2. Tamale pie, the filling of which also came from Friday night's rotisserie chicken.  Yay for stretching a $5 chicken into three (really tasty) meals!
3. Thai coconut curry with coconut jasmine rice, for tonight's dinner.
4. Banana brown betty, from the Joy of Cooking.  I have bananas getting over-ripe on the counter, and I'm really tired of either trying to get M to eat mushy bananas or throwing them away.  I'm not usually a fan of banana desserts, so we'll see if this one changes my mind (we haven't gotten to dessert yet).
5. Almond pear buckle, also from the Joy of Cooking.  And also because I have over-ripe pears on the counter, etc. etc.  This one has caught my eye several times, so I'm really looking forward to trying it.  I'm only a little nervous for it because Bosc or other firm pears are best for baking, and I only had Bartletts.  So I hope it's not too mushy or mealy.  But my reservations about both desserts are exactly why I made both desserts--I figured that making two would give me better odds of coming up with something that we'll all like.  Hopefully I won't strike out, and have wasted time making not only one but two desserts.

1. "Own-jen" surprisingly, this is angel.  I can't hear that one enough.
2. "Rell-la" Cinderella.  Yesterday she walked through the kitchen as I was washing dishes, flipped open her play cell phone and said "Hell-lo Rell-la!" and then walked off and continued chattering.  I melted into a puddle of goo on the kitchen floor.
3. "Moo-gaas" surprisingly, music.  Which reminds me of how it sometimes makes me giggle when I can understand so very much of what she says, when it's so far from sounding like the actual words.
4. "Pigger" Tigger.  Love it.
5. "Clippord" Clifford.  I know little phonemic mistakes like this aren't going to last long, and I know I'm going to be so sad when she corrects them.

1. This afternoon J got home from work early so we decided to go have a late lunch/early dinner at a Mexican place across town.  After he changed clothes and was ready to go, I asked him to pick up M who was cuddling in my lap.  I knew she wouldn't like being taken from her comfortable spot and put on the floor, but going to daddy would make it okay.  So when I said, "Here, will you take her?"  he assumed that I meant "go ahead and put her in the car."  But I still needed to put my shoes on and gather juice, crackers, etc. for the diaper bag, so they waited in the car for a few minutes.  He honked for me just as I was walking out the door, and I jumped in and off we went.  (Well, I sort of dragged myself in--no jumping as yet with the surgery recovery.)  It wasn't until we arrived at the shopping center where the restaurant is (1/2 hour away from our house) that J said "Where are her shoes?"  And I said, "Um, I'm really not the person who should be answering that since you are the one who walked out of the house with her and put her in the car. . ."  Need I mention this is the second time in recent memory that he's done this?  I think the first time we were going to the grocery store, so it was no big deal.  M rides in the cart anyway, no walking involved.  But going to a restaurant and maybe some stores pretty much necessitates footwear.  So we had to make a quick stop at Target to get some "cheap" shoes (I was hoping for something on clearance, of course there was nothing on clearance in her size).  And she threw one of the biggest tantrums I've ever seen from her.  There was something extremely traumatic about me wanting her to try a pair of shoes on--even though this is something we've done many, many times.  So funny how such trivial things can sometimes cause the meltdown of the year, with no apparent rhyme or reason.  But the real moral of the story is to remember that daddy doesn't necessarily think that he has any responsibility in getting M ready to leave the house, even if he is actually the one removing her from the house. 
2. M created her first four-word sentence today and she did it twice.  First she said "I want some water" with each word being very distinct and clear.  She has communicated the same kind of thing for months now, but it's always been more like "some water, water some"  but today it was the real thing.  Then she said "I want snacks please."  She talks so much all the time that I didn't know that I would notice things like this, but it was so amazing to hear such a nicely formed, grammatically correct sentence coming from her.  People always remark about how well she talks for her age, but I find myself wondering if they just don't remember what other 21-month-olds are like?  I know I don't remember what my nephews and nieces were like at specific ages.  But when I was on the phone with my sister and I mentioned the milestone, she said, "Wow, L (her almost-three-year-old) put together her first four-word sentence like two or three months ago."  So that really put it in perspective for me.  Because L is also very bright.  So I guess M really is a very good talker.
3. "Puck-in" (pumpkin) is still probably my favorite current word of M's.  But I'm also loving "nacks" (fruit snacks) and "pourse" (purse, mine, which she slings over her shoulder just like I do and walks around the house that way, while balancing her play cell phone between ear and shoulder and chattering away while gesturing with her hands).  I love to see the pretend play.  She also puts the teddy bear on the changing pad and says "change, change," and has started sitting at the dining table and taking the ceramic rooster that is there, laying it down on the table, and covering it with a napkin or placemat (whatever is handy) and saying "sleepin.  awake!  sleepin.  awake!" as she puts the "blanky" on and off of the rooster.  One of her absolute favorite things is when I turn on any music so she can dance; if there is music on that she particularly likes and it's not very loud, she'll say "mugas! mugas!" (music) which means that she can't hear it well enough and wants me to turn it up.  She grins like crazy when I turn it up and then starts shaking that little rear.
4. M's favorite book right now is Goodnight Moon and tonight when we came home it was already dark out, so as we were walking in she started pointing at the sky and saying "Ni-night dars (stars), ni-night moon."  Every day this week when I've read it to her before nap, she has requested it at least three times in a row--as many times as I'll give in for.
5. Last night I made "seven layer" bars (graham cracker crumbs, butter, sweetened condensed milk, chocolate chips, butterscotch chips, and shredded coconut--the seventh layer is supposed to be nuts but I skip it because I don't like nuts in any baked good), tonight I made chocolate sable cookies.  Need we discuss how the diet is going?  Hmm.

I've thought a lot about friends and friendships lately, because it seems that friendships as an adult have a tendency to come in and go out with a lot more frequency that I would like.

1. A was one of my three real friends for the two years that we lived in Las Vegas.  I've found that as an adult my only friendships have been formed with people that I either worked with or that I've gone to church with.  A was a work friend.  In fact, she had a big role in me actually getting that job after finishing a temp assignment for the company.  She was one of the very few people in the huge organization that I had enough in common with to really enjoy talking and want to socialize with outside of work.  We lost touch after I had M and quit the job.  We talked here and there for the first six months, but then I went home for almost a month to help my mom after a hip replacement, and when I got back to Vegas I called A three times to check on her.  She had announced her pregnancy when M was 3 months old, so she was due right around the time that I returned from Utah and called her.  With no returned call after three messages, I thought maybe there was a hint I should be taking and I didn't call her again.  Until last week, when I decided I wanted to try one more time.  Why does it matter?  I keep asking myself that.  Because it's extremely unlikely that I'll ever see her again.  It's not like we're going to live in Vegas again, and to be honest I don't really see us ever vacationing there--two years was plenty to get it out of our system.  So I think the answer to the question has to do with the first line of this entry--that I'm not okay with friendships just coming and going like something disposable in my life.  I've always been one of those who takes a lot of time to develop friendships, and I don't have a lot of friend.  Quality, not quantity.  So once I spend enough time with a person to really consider them a friend, it's hard for me to just let that go and be okay with never speaking to them again.  But it seems that maybe most people are okay with that scenario, because every time I have a good friend that I continue to contact here and there just to say hello, I am forced to recognize that, uh, I'm the only one doing so.  I am the one contacting them, not the other way around.  But honestly?  I'm okay with that.  I have to be.  Because if I think about that too deeply, then I have to consider some things that aren't very flattering to myself, and I just don't want to.  Whatever.  I figure we wouldn't have become friends in the first place if I was all that repellant, so I'm just not going to worry about all of those possibilities.  All I know is that every once in a while I just want to reach out to those people that I've lost track of, and who have lost track of me, and just say hello and see how they're doing.  I sometimes think that in my ideal world we wouldn't all have to move around so much to find decent jobs, so we could stick around with our friends and not have to say goodbye.  But then I realize that if that were the case, I would still be stuck with the friends I had in school.  And um.  With the exception of 3 of those. . .well, let's just say I'm better off having had the opportunity to meet and become friends with so many other people.                   So A.  She answered my call this time.  And she was very excited to talk to me.  Said she thinks about me all the time too.  Has a one year old (said she had just had the baby when I called three times last year and just couldn't get unburied enough to return calls to everyone).  So I feel better.  I mean, at least I know I didn't do something to alienate a friend, which is always nice to know.  And she's emailed me twice since we spoke last week, so I'm very happy to have that friendship back--at least on a keep-in-touch level.
2. S was my first friend here in the South.  A church friend.  The first person to invite us to her house, the only one I've gotten close enough to so far that she has called me every day since my surgery just to check on me.  Even T hasn't done that, so I consider that a very nice thing to do.  Now, why is this one on the "in and out" list?  Because we live near a military base and a lot of the people in our church are military people, which makes them necessarily in and out.  So S and her husband will be moving to a different base sometime next year.  I know it's a long time.  And I could go into the fact that we will very likely be moving away next year too, but that's a whole nother anxiety attack post.  But anyway, that's another friend to know that I'll be missing.
3. J was my second friend here in the South, another church friend.  She also happens to be a military wife, and they are officially moving to another state next month.  But she also happens to be one of the most genuinely nice people I've ever met in my life.  Just a good, kind, down-to-earth person.  From the first time I met her I've thought that she's the kind of person that I could imagine having as my next-door-neighbor for the rest of my life.  My ideal next-door-neighbor, she's just that nice.  And I won't see her again after November.
4. S is yet another military wife.  And a church friend, but I met her at the gym long before I ever saw her at church.  We worked out at the same time every morning and she made a point to talk to me, and then through conversation we discovered that we go to the same church.  I probably have the most in common with her out of all of the new friends in the South, so when she and her family move away next month it'll probably feel like the biggest loss.  I have nothing redeeming to say about that, no positive note to end on.  I'm just sad that that's another person leaving.
5. A is the friend-in-the-South that I know the least, but she isn't going anywhere.  She's also a church friend (hmm, I guess stay-at-home moms who only make friends either at work or at church pretty much only make friends at church).  But her husband is not in the military and both she and her husband are from here originally, so it would be really surprising if they moved away.  So that brings us back to the back-of-my-mind thought that we will be moving away next summer, but let's forget about that for a moment.  Looking at my list, I guess A will literally be my only friend left here after the other three leave, which I have to admit makes me panic a little bit.  Probably because like I said, I know her the least.  Technically I don't think I could even consider her a friend at this point.  Just an aquaintance who is nice and with whom I have enough in common that I think we could become friends pretty easily.  So that's the hopeful note to end on--at least I have one person to work on a friendship with, and hopefully it will develop.

1. I had surgery yesterday.  My c-section scar had developed a hernia when I started doing some weight lifting with a trainer last winter.  For several months I figured the (mostly minor) pain was just scar tissue tugging on new muscles until I finally went to the doctor two weeks ago just to make sure it was nothing serious.  Very glad I did, since it turned out to be a hernia.  It was small enough that it probably wouldn't have been a problem in general.  But for someone who plans on having another baby at some point, a hernia could turn into a huge problem.  The doctor said it could be excruciating to have one while pregnant, and then of course they wouldn't be able to operate.  So surgery it was, yesterday.
2. Aside from the hernia there was also a lot of scar tissue that they cleaned out, which means now I'm in a lot of pain.  I guess the hernia surgery is usually only moderately painful.  But when they scrape out a bunch of scar tissue it affects all sorts of nerve endings that then go crazy for a while.  One word:  Lortab.
3. I hate to sound like a junkie, but since I've never so much as smoked a joint in my life, I will unabashedly admit that I love the feeling of going to sleep before surgery.  I didn't even have to have general anesthesia for this surgery, which made it even more lovely.  Falling asleep with general feels nice, but waking up from it is nasty.  The two times I've had it I felt like it took me several days to feel like myself again.  But with this one they just did deep sedation, and it was a much better experience.  The peaceful feeling of drifting off to sleep without struggling (like I do most nights), then staying asleep until they discontinue the drugs, after which you wake up more or less aware.  Man, do I love sleeping when it comes that easily.
4. J has been home with M and I yesterday and today, and has been awesome about taking care of both of us.  I'm dreading tomorrow when he'll be at work and we'll be on our own.  M is absolutely adorable and relatively easy but she does like me to carry her around a lot during the day still.  I can pick her up and hold her, but I've found it impossible to walk around holding her.  Even with her slight 22 pounds and my "muscular core" (according to the doctor--thanks Doc!  One of the best compliments I've gotten in recent memory) it takes my breath away to engage all those muscles enough to move while holding her.  On the one hand it's very cool to become so aware of all of thoes muscles and to realize how strong I usually am.  On the other hand it's going to make tomorrow pretty challenging.  Here's hoping M's little heart will somehow understand that she needs to take it easy on her mama.
5. On a different note.  I discovered today that October is my favorite month in this state so far.  We've been here since February, so that only leaves November through January as competition, but October has turned out to be absolutely lovely.  The second half of October, anyway.  The first half was still 90 degrees and claustrophobically humid.  But the second half?  Perfect.  Deep blue, cloudless skies; 70 something degrees; tonight it's cool enough outside that J opened the windows to let the breeze in.  Aaah.

1. Ever since M has developed a passion for "swingin," I've been trying to figure out how we could make it more accessible to her, more frequently.  First of course I asked around in the neighborhood to find out if there were any parks around that I had missed somehow.  Nope.  (Um, civic infrastructure?  Is it because it's the South?  Or is the West the only region in the country that's really into this kind of thing?)  The only park in the vicinity with swings takes 10-15 minutes to drive to.  With M begging to go swinging at least 5 times a day, that just isn't going to work.  Not that I would take her five times a day even if there were a park around the corner, but twice a day, sure. Twice I would totally do.  But even once a day seems excessive on the gas usage when it's that far away.  Not to mention standing in the humid heat for an hour while she swings.  So next I thought we'd buy a swingset for our backyard so that we can swing several times a day, but not have to be out in the heat for very long at a time.  But thats another no-go, because I discovered that, dude, swingsets are EXPENSIVE.  Seriously?  For seven or eight pieces of wood and a bunch of screws you're going to charge $400??? Are you kidding?  My next thought honestly was pretty much the definition of white trash.  J and I were at Home Depot and I wandered into the PVC pipe aisle. . .you know where this is going, right?  I was all "Can't we just buy the big thick pipes and the elbow joints that go with them and screw a bunch of them together and somehow come up with a swingset?"  Sadly I was totally serious.  J was kind enough to take me at least a little bit seriously, though he had the sense to say "Yeah we could do it, but let's do it another day, kay?"  So that was pretty much the low point of desperation.  But then yesterday I had a flash of inspiration.  I had a memory of my dad doing chin-ups on a bar set in a doorway.  "J!  Do they still make chin-up bars?  You know, the kind that you can put in a doorway?"  He said he hadn't seen one since the 80's, but I persevered.  I called the local sporting goods store and after a couple of tries found a location that carried the very thing--for $20!  Combine that with the $20 I spent on a baby swing a few months ago (thinking maybe one of the trees in our backyard would work, which turned out to be a negative), and you have a $40 swing right in the comfort of my own home.  I felt pretty proud of my accomplishment until M was in it for an hour and a half today, absolutely REFUSING to get out.  Oh well, at least I was in an air conditioned house with the TV on rather than sweating at the park slapping at flying insects.
2. I talked to my new friend JA tonight.  She has a 4 1/2 week old baby, whom it sounds like is, unfortunately, a carbon copy of M as a newborn.  Don't get me wrong, I loved her with all my heart, etc. etc.  But it would be less than honest to say that she was easy for the first 4 months of her life.  I guess the best I can say is that I hope for JA's sake that her little one will grow into a 9 month old as fun and sweet as M became--because it took until that point for her to grow out of her serious high maintenance-ness.  Anyway, I'm going over there tomorrow to take her the bible of ornery babies, Health Sleep Habits Happy Child, and also three of the slings from my collection to see if any of them will work for her.
3. I didn't have anything planned for dinner until about 10 minutes before S got here, but I managed to pull together a really delicious Thai meal with what I had in the pantry.  Coconut jasmine rice with coconut curry chicken and a green salad.  Yum!  I love it when my pantry has the right things in it to be able to pull good things together without a ton of planning and trips to the grocery store.
4. I reconnected with an old friend today.  Haven't talked to her in a year and a half.  Now she has a one-year old, a different job, and everything that goes with being a working mom.  Amazing how motherhood mellows some women out and makes them so much more. . .human.

Wow, I guess today was only a four-thing day.  Probably preferable to let that be okay than to come up with more just to have five.

1. When I woke up this morning and walked into the kitchen to get milk for M, the air still smelled like the brown rice I cooked for J for dinner last night.  Usually when I wake up to the smells of cooking from the night before, it's enough to make me feel a little queasy.  Like, sausage and peppers may smell fabulous at 7pm when you're hungry and you've been waiting for this meal all afternoon.  But at 7am it's just nasty.  So it was pleasant to smell only the brown rice (since I grilled the rest of dinner outside) this morning and not be completely grossed out by it.
2. We stopped at a gas station on the way home tonight and J bought a car wash with the tank of gas.  Going through the wash, when the second round of (multicolored. why?) soap was put on, the car filled with a scent. . .coconut lime verbena, Bath and Body Works, exactly.  I know it's not a revelation, but it always amazes me how much a specific scent can take you back to such a precise moment in time.  Or several moments, in this case.  But generally, my mind was suddenly back in the summer of 2003.  I was in my room on LG Street, freshly showered and putting on my new lotion, T across the hall blasting Justin Timberlake or Britney or something.  Getting ready to hit the clubs, oooh.  Or maybe just getting ready for the "day" after spending a Saturday going to the gym, and to Starbuck's for a pumpkin scone, and to the mall for a cute new shirt or to salivate over too-tall shoes.  Either way, even if the plan was for a very tame night of dinner at Cafe Rio and renting a movie, no night with T and I ever turned out tame.  How was that possible?  How did we always manage to find boys to make the night a little interesting at the very least?  Just driving around town, we didn't even have to get out of the car to find some game.  Oh, those nights when there was something in the air. . .it felt like anticipation all summer long.  And I don't know if it was just because life was so filled with unknown, and unknown can be so exciting, or if it's because something in me knew that something big was about to happen. . .duh, meeting my J.  Either way, look what that smell of coconut lime verbena does to me.  One minute I'm at a car wash in the deep South, Saturday night and no makeup, chipped toenail polish, just my boy and my girl and me; the next minute I'm four years and 2500 miles ago, filled with a sense of my own power and peace with who I was, ready and heart open for what was next.
3. Still coconut lime verbena, but the other moment that I was taken to:  standing in my cousin J's room in a walk-out basement in Seattle.  Again, freshly showered and putting on my lotion.  The window open to the cool fresh grey of northwest air on a July morning.  Hoping no one goes out to the backyard where they could see right into where I'm dressing, but I'm certainly not going to close the blinds on all of that refreshment.  Getting ready for a day out and about in Seattle with my mom--I remember the day at --- Village (can't remember), shopping for Gin and Tonic perfume in Anthropologie, a lime-green notebook in Crate and Barrel, a white eyelet skirt at Banana Republic, and daydreams of a home someday inspired by Pottery Barn furniture and beach-inspired decorations, honeybee glasses at Anthropologie and stylish Mrs. So-and-so clothes in every boutique.  Again, dreaming of, waiting for, filled with the anticipation of:  J.  Of course I didn't know that yet, but he was coming and my heart was already filled with it.  Maybe it was taking a lovely vacation with my mom, but I swear all I did that week was daydream about the husband, the house, the LIFE that I just couldn't wait to get to.  Not that I didn't enjoy the time with my mom.  But I'm enough of a sucker (romantic) that I never was very good at enjoying a vacation without wishing that I had a boy to enjoy it with.  Hence the daydreams of the life.  I'd had it before, half-hearted, half-a$$ed, halfway, half-baked, but even with all the halves, I knew what it was and what I couldn't wait for.  Grown out of the fairytale whine of I want a boy, I knew perfectly well that marriage is hardly ever Disney, more Grimm's.  In college I just wanted a boy.  I wanted to feel loved, feel pretty, feel wanted.  Been there, done that, knew where to get that any time I wanted. Pretty, wanted. . .that's the easy part to come by.  What I wanted was the real life thing, a man who'd dig in and do the work with me.  Ups or downs, bring em on--I just wanted someone who wouldn't lie his way through every inch of life like the one before.  As long as I know who he is and he's in it with me for real, a life can be built and can be good.  I knew it instinctively.  I didn't want the Pottery Barn fairytale because I need to look prosperous to others.  I wanted it because I need to feel warm and secure and welcome at home for myself (and, embarrassing, I guess that's what I've always seen in the PB still-lifes.  Way to go, PB marketing team!  You've got me hook, line, and sinker!  You've done your job well!).  I wanted the life and the man represented in those tableaux.  The one who has goals in life and holds down a job and wants to support his family; wants to make a home every bit as much as I do.  So I guess I was in Seattle but my mind was chasing something around every corner, something that had nothing to do with Pike Place Market or shopping sprees or cheesecake.  Wow.  I guess I better hope they don't discontinue the coconut lime verbena any time soon--where would I go for my trip back in time then?
4. Back down to earth.  M had a bath in the big tub in my bathroom today.  I used the "milk and honey" scent body wash and lotion that I've used since she was about two weeks old.  If everyone at some point discovers that a bottle of baby wash will last approximately until they go to middle school, then why does anyone give it as a gift?  I appreciate it, I appreciate it.  But the four (no exaggeration) bottles that I got before M was born, plus the two bottles of different scents that I bought right after she was born because I was already tired of that original baby shampoo scent (all four gift bottles--same one). . .yeah, still working on five of those six.  We did finally finish off the one that turned out to be my favorite--Johnson's Naturals, in the sage green bottle--yum!  But I should have spaced out the use of the good-smelling ones, because now the milk n' honey is almost gone too, and then I'm going to be stuck with, what?  roughly three more years of the boring original scent?  This topic really shouldn't cause me this much angst, but it's only because M is so entirely EDIBLE when I've used either the J's Naturals or the M n' H.  When giving her hugs and kisses all day after a bath is actually a source of entertainment because she smells so good, well that's worth putting a little thought into what I'm bathing her with, right?  Hmm. . .my point for this paragraph got lost in there somewhere.  I'm sure it's there.  Where did I put it. . .
5. Moving on.  My final scent-related point for the day.  (Wow, stretching that coconut lime one over two bullets really saved my theme, I would have hated to run out of thematic material when I'm on such a roll!)  A few nights ago I dug in my tub-o-candles to find my fall scents, and so I have Bath and Body Works' Perfect Autumn Pumpkin on the entryway table, and Gold Canyon's Apple Cider on the kitchen counter.  I forgot they were there for a few days, but this morning when M and I got home from the gym and I knew we'd be around the house for the rest of the day, doing housework, taking naps, etc., I thought I'd light the apple cider to create a little cozy fall ambiance for myself for the day.  And wow did it work.  I left that thing burning for about 6 hours, because I just didn't want to blow it out and end the coziness.  Did it matter that it was 85 degrees and humid outside?  Nope.  Inside, I could convince myself that the leaves on the trees were golden and russet and that if I went outside I'd need to grab a jacket.  Wishful thinking, wishful thinking.  Not that I'm wishing myself away from here.  I'm working so hard to not wish my life away, but to enjoy the moment where I am.  But I would just enjoy it even more if HERE would have a change of season earlier than, say, late December.  I'm certainly used to it from living in the desert, but I don't think I'll ever get over the fact that fall is my favorite time of year and that what I expect in my favorite time of year is a little nip in the air, that SMELL that you get when the leaves start to change, and the irresistable desire to put on a sweater and make mushroom wild rice soup and breadsticks and pumpkin-apple cake.  Sweaters?  NO WAY.  Soup?  Not so much.  Pumpkin apple cake I could do anytime, if it weren't for this d*mn constant diet that I feel the need to be on.  End of complaining.  We live in a beautiful place, and it's definitely cooled down from the days of 110 degrees, and I know it will eventually be sweater weather.  And inside my house, thanks to BBW and Gold Canyon, it can be pumpkin, apple October no matter what it's like outside.

1. It's taking every bit of willpower I possess to sit in this chair and not walk the five feet into the kitchen to get a snack.  Cereal sounds really good right now.  Or vanilla ice cream.  Or even a handful of mini marshmallows.  But no.  I'm not giving in tonight.  I'm not.  Not.
2. I finally made an appointment to see a doctor on Monday.  I keep thinking that this "post-partum" anxiety thing will go away.  But if I'm honest with myself, I have to recognize that it's been getting worse and worse.  I'm not blaming it on post-partum hormones in any way, because M is almost 2 and I know my body is actually pretty much back to "normal" now.  But I know that I have never had anxiety like this before, so I am definitely relating it to the emotional changes of motherhood.  Anyway, I'm going to have the (awkward?) conversation where I request that I be put on something to (hopefully) fix it.  Hopefully for sure.
3. Pugs may have the cutest little faces, but they are N O I S Y.  I know, everyone knows that.  So why is it that my memories of the pug we had when I was a kid are distinctly lacking in the noise department?  How could I have forgotten that?  How can I live with a dog for the next 10-15 years that sounds like THAT?  Oh right.  Because the pug is one of M's favorite things on the planet, and my heartlessness toward the dog does not extend to heartlessness toward my girl.  Hmph.
4. M's new favorite book is the Gyo Fujikawa "Babies."  But what makes it cute is that she brings it to me to read saying "naughty?  naughty?"  Apparently she loves the book because of the page where it says "Sometimes they are naughty. . ." and shows them doing things like tearing pages out of a book and not sharing a toy.  I love the personality that is growing exponentially every day in this girl.
5. I used to be opposed to the over-processed, too-easy, not-really-cooking and not-really-healthy stigma that I associated with salad kits.  A weird thing to put much thought into, I know.  But I thought that chopping the veggies myself and adding a self-selected dressing somehow made it more of a "real" salad.  Not anymore.  I am completely over my snobbery re the bagged salads, and in fact that are my current favorite thing to "make" for dinner.  The Grand Fiesta!  The Grande Parisian!  Asian Supreme!  Open a bag and have a good healthy serving of leafy greens that tastes fab while requiring 0 effort.  What exactly was my problem with this?

1. I have orange pumpkins, white pumpkins, three colors of mums, and a deep orangey-red berry wreath on my porch.  Nothing like the homey-ness of fall to get me motivated to finally put something out there that makes it look like a family lives in this place, rather than a bachelor with a knack for killing even the hardiest of shrubs.
2. M says pumpkin like "puckin" and I find myself taking her outside for no other reason than to let her pat the pumpkins so that I can hear her say it.  It's that cute.
3. Writing a resume is not too hard.  Hmm, I guess several things suggest that I find bulleted lists to be a comforting, non-intimidating form of writing.  Cover letters,  on the other hand.  They suck.  To whom it may concern???  Dear Sir or Madam???  Really?  This is still the only advice you get in the sample letters online?  There has got to be some better way of starting a cover letter these days.  At least, something halfway between those ancient phrases and the next option that came to my mind:  Yo,  . . .             This, by the way, is for J, not me.  No.  If we can possibly keep stretching our pennies, I won't be writing a resume for myself for several more years.  Until the babies are in kindergarten, please God.  And then hopefully it will be filling out a grad school application before it's ever resume writing, because I really need to get a different degree before I can do something that I find even remotely interesting.  Anywho.  This is for J, because in the interest of the afforementioned goal (of me staying home with babies), he really needs a new job.  The current industry is in a kamakazi nose dive and it's not pretty.  Okay, I exaggerate.  But a job with a salary would cause a lot less heartburn than our current reliance on commission.
4. Speaking of jobs, helping J with his resume today made me think, of course, about my last job.  It's still so weird to me that I worked in a casino.  That I drove to the Strip to go to work every day.  That my boss was the most stressed-out, most fashionable, tiniest little blonde executive you've ever seen.  Just not what would come to mind when questions like "where do you see yourself working?" come up.
5. It's 3:00pm.  M is asleep.  I have finished decorating my porch, finally hung all the wall decorations in M's room, cleaned her room, started some laundry, and helped J with his resume.  Oh and ate the rest of the brownies that we started last night.  And that's it.  Didn't go to the gym, didn't clean the kitchen, um, haven't even brushed my teeth yet.  Wow.  I'd say this is a low-point in our recent history of J's days off.