BJ's Run

The expression "going for a [insert item name here] run" as in "going for a beer run" or "going for a Sheetz* run" is but a joke in this life with an infant. There is no "running out for a ..." with the infant. There are only planned ventures; there are only errands that always take longer than you expect. And I'm not complaining because a hot little Saturday night to me is a trip to B.J.'s with my family. All my peeps be bizouncin' up n' down the iz-aisles. For Baby Girl, each warehouse shelf is a sensory overload of colors and lights. For Papa John, the opportunities to embarrass his wife in public are vast, what with the economy size pack of clinical strength deodorant, KENNY, YOU WANNA TRY THAT?

This past Saturday night, the whole trip door to door took us about 2.5 hours and we were totally checking the website per usual to see what time it closed just in case we'd be cutting it close. I suppose some people aspire to close down the bar. We somehow manage to close down B.J.'s more often than not. We would so not make it as Europeans.

*Unless you colleged in Western PA, and have a penchant for sub sammy at 2 a.m., this reference may go unappreciated.

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This picture probably doesn't charm the pants off of anyone here, but I just adore it. She's riding in her carrier with her daddy, and her face is just so mild and yet curious. I love her.

PAPOOSE

The Power of Funyuns

Since our home is located on the corner of a busy street, the amount of debris that blows into our yard is truly upsetting. Slurpee cups and cellophane do a whimsical dance into our yard. Do they not know? Camera boy from "American Beauty" doesn't live here. Our back patio often looks like a construction crew took its lunch break back there, and just couldn't find a trash can afterwards. Needless to say, we are constantly campaigning: 7-Eleven, Not in My Backyard. A few weeks ago, I went outside and picked up a few pieces of trash from the yard and disposed of them in a trash can inside. One of the pieces of trash was an empty bag of Funyuns. Which to Lovey Loverpants can only mean one thing: Wifey went on a bender! She snuck outside just long enough to get her greasy food fix, but she's not clever enough to hide the traces of her habit. I tried to vindicate myself. But it was a long few days before the trash was to be curbed. Each day presented a new lesson for Baby Girl vis a vi Papa. "Mama likes Funyuns, Madi. Mama denies it, but she really likes Funyuns...I'm chopping onions; bet Mama wishes they were Funyuns." I was practically waiting to see it on the latest entry of Stuff White People Like: Hiding Their Funyuns Habits.

Even if I did get caught with my hand in the chip bag -- I put on my pre-preggo jeans today...and they zipped and snapped shut so BOOO-YAH.

Not in the mood

Things I am not in the mood for lately:

- Blogging cheerfully; I am full of snark.
- Plucking my eyebrows; it has been weeks.
- Parallel parking; I hold out for the space that can fit several army tankers to open up so I don't have to maneuver into spots that monkeys can't negotiate.
- Watching YouTube videos; I am really never in the mood to watch poorly filmed videos about the latest dance craze to "Soulja Boy" produced by people with too much time on their hands but it is part of nightly show-and-share with Lovey Loverpants so I concede. (Watch me eat my words in a few days time when the Two Monther video of Baby Girl is posted).

- Reading about the election; it all seems rather regurgitated right now, no?
- Getting hysterical about the recession; every day people live in abject poverty, die of AIDS, suffer injustice and if anything is worth getting hysterical about, it is not the price of gas spiking such that I cannot fill up my SUV.
- Eating lunch that is not wrapped in cellophane; ahh, another granola bar it is!
- Having the volume up high; my daughter could go live in Guster's bongo set and still sleep like a...like a baby and meanwhile there is muzak playing in the mall and it is splitting my skull in two.
- Not having marshmallows in my hot chocolate; when I look up "complete" in the dictionary, this is what I see:

hot cocoa