Never Trust A Photo

At least when it comes from my brother. He is a complete genius with Photoshop. Either that or his boys have some serious behavioral problems.

Lucky Seven

Since I don't want my sister-in-law to consider me a "pinecone" for the rest of my life, I'll respond to her "Lucky Seven" tag. (For those of you who don't understand why being known as a pinecone is a serious matter, let me explain. Growing up, when someone was acting really grouchy or crabby, we would refer to that person as having a pinecone. Like, "Gosh, what is wrong with you today? Why do you have such a pinecone?" Or "Stop being such a pinecone!" It really is a useful little term).

Ahem...

7 Things I Can Do:

1. Play the piano
2. Make rolls
3. Memorize easily
4. Drive a stick shift
5. Give myself shots (impressive, no?)
6. Repeat all the dialogue in the movie "Clue"
7. Win at Boggle

7 Things I Can't Do:

1. Follow a map while I'm driving
2. Turn the right direction when I walk out of a hotel room
3. Ride the twirly rides at amusement parks
4. Stick to a diet
5. Resist the call of chocolate (see #4)
6. Balance on one foot
7. Step on a cockroach

7 Things That Attracted Me To David:

1. He was nice to everyone, not just me
2. The way his eyes crinkle when he smiles
3. He was always a complete gentleman on dates, opening doors, etc.
4. He was a returned missionary with a strong testimony
5. He was appreciative of everything
6. He put a lot of time and thought into dates and gifts
7. He's cute

7 Things I Say The Most:

1. I love you
2. Any new e-mail?
3. Pinch your little cheeks
4. Do not bite me or you will go to time out
5. Let's go!
6. Michael, kisses for mama?
7. No more fruit snacks today

7 Celebrities I Admire Most:

Um, if you've read my blog in the past you'll know that I don't have much admiration for celebrities. This is why:

1. "Smoking kills. If you're killed, you've lost a very important part of your life." - Brooke Shields

2. "I get to go to lots of overseas places, like Canada." - Britney Spears

3. "So where's the Cannes Film Festival being held this year?" - Christina Aguilera

4. "Twenty-three is old. It's almost twenty-five, which is, like, almost mid-twenties." - Jessica Simpson

5. "I make Jessica Simpson look like a rock scientist." - Tara Reid

6. "Whenever I watch TV and see those poor starving kids all over the world, I can't help but cry. I mean, I'd love to be skinny like that, but not with all those flies and death and stuff." - Mariah Carey

7. "Is the world flat? I never thought about it." - Sherri Shepherd

Start Spreading The News

We're leavin' today. Okay, maybe not today, but in a month. We decided we were simply too comfortable here in Virginia and needed to change things up a bit. So we will be moving for one year to... drum roll please... New York City!

We are really excited, and totally freaked out. Think of all the fun things we'll be able to do! (I just have to keep telling myself that every time I start hyperventilating).

David will still be with The Firm, just doing a different type of work. We will be living in Manhattan, so it will be fun to experience true city life. It's going to be a huge change, and at this point I'm really not sure whether or not I can live without Costco, but we will manage to adjust. There is a grocery store right across the street from our new apartment and several playgrounds nearby. We need to invest in some warmer winter clothing so Michael and I don't spend the next few months trapped indoors.

So look for us when you watch the Macy's Parade, and when you watch the ball drop in Times Square on New Year's - We'll be there!

I'm Not A Doctor, But I Play One On TV

I've heard of actors being mistaken for the characters they play on television; for example, actors who play doctors getting asked for help with real medical problems. I'm not sure how people get confused about the difference between an actor and an actual doctor, although I can see how one might form an attachment to an actor playing a certain character. I, for one, was very sad when I found out Bill Cosby and Phylicia Rashad were not married in real life - they made such a cute TV couple.

Of course people tend to look to celebrities for advice on everything - whom to vote for, what to wear, what causes to support, that sort of thing. So I suppose it shouldn't surprise me that yesterday a reporter asked Michael Douglas about the financial crisis on Wall Street. The reporter actually referred to Michael as "Gordon", a character he played in the film "Wall Street" twenty years ago. Aren't you glad there are such intelligent people working for the press?

I'm not quite sure why we place such stock in the ramblings of celebrities anyway. Does it really make sense to take the environmental advice of someone who lives in a 2 million square foot mansion, flies in a private jet, and probably uses a billion watts of electricity every month? Or to take advice about parenthood from someone who has a nanny for each of their children? Or to take political advice from someone who really thinks President Bush is too dumb to tie his shoes, and yet smart enough to have orchestrated the entire 9/11 terrorist plot?

Sometimes I think we would all be better off if we permanently shipped the celebrities to those private islands they like to frequent. But then, if we got rid of celebrities, who would be left for me to make fun of?

Jumper

Michael is going to end up in the E.R. sometime soon. Probably very soon. He is such a daredevil. He will jump off anything, and even if he lands painfully, it doesn't seem to phase him. He just runs around to do it again.

One of his favorite jumping activities is to use his daddy as a springboard.

Fishing For Comments

I often wonder who is reading my blog. Sometimes I am surprised by the people who confess that they have been lurking here. I have discovered more than a few casual acquaintances who have become, in their words, "avid" readers of my blog.

Well, that's great! Because I am now charging $10 per person, and the more the merrier. So be sure to leave your name and address in the comments so I can send you a bill.

Okay, not really. I won't charge you (yet). But I am interested in knowing who you are. So leave me a comment on this post, even if you're here for the first time. Tell me about yourself and what brought you to my blog. And why in the world you keep coming back. Or if you don't want to reveal that much about yourself, a simple compliment about me will do. I particularly enjoy compliments about my good looks, dazzling wit, many talents, and of course humility, which I have in abundance.

And besides, I need to know which people I should avoid gossiping about (in public anyway).

Not A Baby Anymore

The World Is My Oyster

There is a project I have been working on for awhile. It has taken a lot of time and effort, but I finally made a breakthrough. I figured out how to open doors!

You would not believe all the awesome stuff that my parents have been keeping behind closed doors! There are all sorts of bottles that rattle when I shake them (but I can't figure out how to get the lids off. It's so frustrating!), big bottles of juice and soda (I don't know why mommy always uses them to clean the bathroom though. That's silly), and lots of fun things to take apart or dump on the floor. I especially like the guns made out of cardboard and cotton. They are great to play with.

I can't wait to go through some more closets when my mom isn't looking. It is like a treasure hunt! In fact, I think I'll hurry and check the kitchen pantry while she is distracted.

Hey, what's this white plastic thing on the doorknob?!

Oral Fixation

I have biting on my mind for many reasons, not the least of which is that I proved to be completely incapable of making a bite impression at the dentist's office today. But before I plead incompetence, I would like to say that it is really hard to bite down normally when half your mouth is numb and you have a cheek-full of goop. And of course I always have a problem when any sort of medical professional tells me to do something "normally". It kicks my brain into panic-mode, and I can't seem to remember what normal is. Especially when there are sharp tools involved.

But let's not talk about the dentist anymore. Or ever again for that matter. Let's talk about the champion biter in our house: Michael seems to be in constant need of a good-sized chomp. Sometimes he lunges for me out of nowhere. I usually try to hold his forehead back, which causes him to struggle and flail his arms about in a desperate attempt to grab hold of my flesh. It would be almost comical to watch if I wasn't so sick of it happening.

He just seems to have a real need to bite things. I wish we hadn't eliminated the pacifier so early. Ironically, I gave up on it because he would just bite it instead of sucking, and I got tired of holding it in his mouth all the time. Now I know he is just part vampire, and could have benefited from all that chewing.

We think the biting is actually why he arrived a few days early. He must have bitten his way through the amniotic sac. (Of course his actions must have caused him immediate alarm at the consequences, because he refused to come out on his own, and all the pitocin in the world couldn't convince him to make an appearance - on the doctor's timeline anyway).

On the advice of some friends, and the supposed advice of some friends' pediatricians, I finally bit him back today. Not hard enough to leave a lasting mark or anything, but hard enough to shock him. It did seem to snap him out of it. For an hour anyway, until he tried to bite me again.

Are rawhide bones fit for human use?

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas...

At Costco, anyway. And Michael and I would know because we spend a lot of time there. We love the food samples, there is always a new supply of kids books, and there is usually something fun to look at. Michael's current obsession is a huge blow-up Halloween decoration that plays scary music. He loves to look at it, and will point at it and beg the entire time we are in the store.

(Quick story: Last year I was at a craft store showing Michael the Halloween decorations. He was exclaiming and gooing in happy fascination at all the moving monsters and spooky lights when a woman came up to me and scolded me for "scaring" him. I asked her why in the world she thought he would be scared - he didn't know ghosts and skeletons were supposed to be scary. Strange isn't it, that you have to learn what things are supposed to be frightening?)

Anyway, last week we ventured to Costco for the second, or possibly third time, and I walked in expecting to hear the creepy Halloween music. Only I couldn't, because it was drowned out by the Rockin' light-up Christmas trees. Nothing says September like "Carol of the Bells".

Of course Michael was delighted by this new development, and we spent a good 15 minutes watching and listening to the trees (which were covered in flashing balls - what could be better?!). And of course we had to say hello to the Halloween decoration too.

I used to be annoyed when stores would start getting their Christmas stuff out so early, but Michael is already enjoying it so much, I can't help but enjoy it too. Of course I would still like to get past Halloween before the candy canes come out, but at least the Halloween decorations technically did appear first.

It is fun to see him starting to enjoy these little holiday things. Heaven knows, I need someone who can share my holiday fanaticism.

Time For Some Campaignin'!

This is making me laugh really hard. I especially like Obama riding around on the unicorn.

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For Sale

In the news this morning: 22-year-old "Natalie Dylan" is auctioning off her virginity to pay for her college education. (Yes, you read that right). She says she doesn't think it will solve all her problems, but at least it will help her financial situation. Um, honey, if you are willing to sell your virginity, paying for school is the least of your problems.

She also says that she is looking for someone who is a "genuine, overall nice person" and not just the highest bidder. I have some sad news for her: Any man who would pay money to deflower an obviously out-of-her-mind college student is not a nice person. Sorry, nice guys don't go for prostitutes.

Maybe she's hoping this little rendezvous will blossom into a meaningful relationship? I don't know. I just know that this is quite possibly the most pathetic thing I have ever heard of someone doing. It's tragic that sex has lost all meaning in today's world.

And the saddest part is that these people have no idea what they're missing.

Where Were You?

Today is September 11th. It is one of those days, branded into history books, where everyone remembers what they were doing when they heard planes had flown into the Pentagon and the World Trade Center.

David and I were living in Provo. I had arrived first at my office, as usual, and decided to check my email before I began my daily tasks. My sister had written an email that said, "So, the World Trade Center and the Pentagon have been hit. Last days, anyone?"

That's weird, I thought. I wonder what she is talking about. As other workers filed into the office, and as I did a little browsing on the internet, the true horror of what was taking place hit me full force. We were under attack.

Many of my coworkers were gathering in the front office. Someone hooked up a TV in the executive suite and I strung my phone over to the door, so I could watch. We all sat there in dumbfounded silence as we watched the World Trade Center towers come down. The estimates of casualties then were in the tens of thousands. We couldn't do anything but stare at the TV screen.

David stopped by my office on a break from his classes. We hugged. We shared our feelings of disbelief. It was such a strange day. I don't think I was able to tear my eyes away from the television until late into the night. It was a feeling reaching beyond surreal. It just couldn't be happening.

This morning I watched a few minutes of a "Countdown to Ground Zero" special on the History Channel. What struck me most was the image of a sign hanging on a building adjacent to the World Trade Center, declaring: "We Will Never Forget". On September 12th, I would have agreed with that statement. But looking back on that day, I realize how much we have already forgotten. Remember all the flags, and all the "God Bless Americas", the senators with flag pins, the church services, the charity events? How quickly we have forgotten those priorities. It's every man for himself again. 9/11 is thought by some to be a conspiracy theory, America is seen as a horrible country, and presidential candidates are afraid to wear flag pins lest they offend some foreign national living in America.

We just don't know how good we have it, living in this country. We enjoy freedoms that no other people in the history of the world have had. People still clamor at our borders to get in, to make a better life for themselves. I don't know of any other country that can say the same for itself.

There is just something special about this nation. And I'm so proud to be an American.

Spoiled Rotten

Today my sister and I were discussing our jobs as stay-at-home moms. We decided we have it supremely easy compared to our ancestors. Our responsibilities (thankfully) do not include killing or de-feathering our meals, washing our clothes by hand, or even doing our dishes by hand. We live in air-conditioned, indoor-plumbing-ed comfort, our irons weigh a comfortable four-ish pounds, and we do not have to lean over our kettles in 100 degree heat while trying to keep our long skirts out of the fire.

Yes, we are spoiled rotten.

I have been thinking about this in relation to my husband's job. It is nearly 11:00 at night and he is still slaving away at the office. He called me to say I should probably just go to bed without him (ah, the life of a tax accountant), but I hate doing that. Even if I only get to see him for 5 minutes, I still want those 5 minutes. And it's so much nicer for him to come home to hug and a kiss than a snoring lump in the bed.

Besides, if I'm really tired tomorrow from staying up so late, I can just take a nap.

Which brings me back to that spoiled rotten thing. I think of how much time I have to do things I enjoy, and it's a lot. I have plenty of time by myself to play on the internet, watch TV, read a book, work on a project, play the piano or just relax. Even during the day when Michael is awake I still get to do a lot of things I want to do. (You actually can type with a child hanging on your leg!)

But David hardly gets any time for himself. It's a rare occasion when he is home and I'm not. The only time he comes home early during tax season is on Tuesdays, so he can walk back out the door to mutual. He works on Saturdays, and his Sundays really aren't that restful. He doesn't have time to work on his hobbies, or watch a movie, or relax in any way. Frankly, I don't know how he is even alive.

Sometimes people ask me how I survive with my husband working so much. A better question is how does he survive? He is the one doing all the hard work, taking care of our family, fulfilling his church calling, getting up first in the morning and bouncing me out of bed to read scriptures, and through it all asking me how I am doing.

In short, he is amazing beyond belief.

I love you, David. Thank you for everything you do.

Having Trouble Being Taken Seriously?

Then take your clothes off! It seems to be standard operating procedure in Hollywood these days.

Daniel Radcliffe, of Harry Potter fame and fortune, is currently starring on Broadway, reprising his London role gouging out horses eyes and prancing about naked onstage. He says he's glad he took the role because he is now considered a "serious" actor. I have to agree. Before he was just the multi-millionaire star of the world's most famous movie franchise. Now he is a serious idiot.

It is being bandied about that Warner Brother's sudden decision to move the release of Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince to next summer is the result of wanting to avoid, er, uncomfortable questions about the current nudity of its star performer. I can't say I blame them, although I am annoyed that I have to wait a whole year to see the completed film.

And another thing, don't these actors have parents? Or grandparents? Or relatives of any sort who might be averse to seeing their brother/nephew/cousin galavanting around Lady Godiva-style onstage? Wouldn't you just die if you knew your parents were even aware of your public nudity, let alone sitting on the front row watching you in all your glory?

Doubtless, Daniel's parents are probably pleased as punch with their son's accomplishments. And this, my friends, is what is wrong with the world today.

The Smallest Violin

In way of celebrity news, it appears that Angelina Jolie is suffering from severe exhaustion after the birth of her twins in July. According to this article, she doesn't even have enough energy to sit on the floor and play barbies with her other daughters.

For the tiniest space of time, I almost felt bad for her. Being the mother of six small children has got to be tiring, after all. But then I remembered that she has a nanny for each of those 6 children. And a chef to cook the meals, maids to keep her many mansions sparkling, a driver, a private plane, boatloads of money, and a job that involves being paid millions of dollars to work a few hours a year.

The smallest violin is playing somewhere for you Angie.

A Rebuttal

I let my mom type on the computer for five minutes and then I found out she's been talking about me! That's the last time I'm letting her anywhere near the keyboard.

I don't think she gave you the whole story when she said I wanted to do everything myself. I don't want to do EVERYTHING myself. For example, I still want her to carry me and change my diaper and come to nursery with me. But Mom always says that I'm not a baby anymore, I'm a big boy! I'm just trying to show her what a big boy I am by doing things myself. There are a lot of things I don't need help with, like walking in the parking lot, but mom won't let go of my hand! It's so annoying. I get her back though, because I know how to make my whole body go limp when she grabs my hand. I especially like to do it when there is a car coming.

I think I could take care of myself just fine without my mom if I could just figure out how to get to the fruit snacks in the pantry. I try to stand on the bottom shelf, but I still can't reach that high. Sometimes I just get frustrated and start dumping flour all over the floor. That certainly gets mom's attention. Whenever she's not paying attention to me I can find something to dump out or destroy, or I can just hit or bite. Of course that gets me sent to time out, but sometimes a good bite is just worth the punishment. It feels so good to use my teeth.

I really wish my mom would let me do more, like stick knives in the electrical sockets (I tried that once and mom freaked out. Seriously, she yelled and everything) run out in the street, pull things off of store shelves, and lots of other fun stuff. I mean, I know I would miss my mom if she wasn't around (and if she leaves I make sure to throw a huge fit!) but think of all the fun I could have without her.

Mr. Independent

Michael's motto lately is "I'll do it myself!" Woe betide the person who lends a helping hand, looks at him wrong, offers him a treat without allowing him to choose it for himself, flushes the toilet without him, or basically tries to help him out in any way.

This morning he wanted to climb onto our bed, only he couldn't quite make it over the edge, so I offered him a hand. He screamed, threw himself on the floor, kicked his feet, and gave me a withering stare worthy of Medusa herself. When he tried again, I touched him on the arm (stupid, I know, but it's sort of a reflex to help your struggling kid) and he freaked out again. It took him four tries to get onto the bed, not because he couldn't do it in one, but because he wanted to make sure I wasn't going to help him. If I even got that look on my face like I was going to help him, it was the end of the universe.

This weekend he said "No!" to me for the first time. Normally he just vigorously shakes his head, accompanying the action with a really nasty glare. But as I put him in his crib and he began his usual jumping game, I said, "Michael, lie down right now." He cocked his head to the side, half-smiled, and said, "NO!" with all the force he could muster. Then he cackled like a maniac.

It was raining all day Saturday, so we were stuck in the house. He went about happily destroying and trashing the place, eventually ripping one of the curtain tie-backs out of the wall, donning it as some sort of royal battle-wear, and walking around the house for the next hour trying not to trip over it. It was really very funny.

Here is a picture of the little emperor. You can see the devastation left in his wake.

A Survey

Today I was looking through some old emails and happened upon this hilarious survey. While he never fessed up, I am certain it was created by my brother-in-law as a response to getting one too many email questionnaires about whether he prefers to be hugged or kissed. (Double kisses on both cheeks, of course, right Brian?).

And since I secretly love email surveys, I had to post it (with my responses), for your reading pleasure.

1. If you could be any Muppet, which would you be? Cookie Monster, for obvious reasons

2. What is your favorite nine-letter word? chocolate

3. Who is your favorite Byzantine Emperor? I don't even want to pretend I can think of one.

4. If you were a professional wrestler, what name would you use? The Procrastinator

5. What time is it right now? 10:18 PM

6. At the North Pole? No idea

7. Who will be the US President 4 years from now? Obama

8. What is your favorite food-related song? "Whip It" by Devo

9. What's the best anagram of your name? be novel irony

10. Have you ever hidden dirty dishes in your oven? No, but I have crammed them into the dishwasher as a temporary holding place, and I've thrown clean laundry back in the washer.

11. In what year and month will Stephanie publish her next book? April 2009

12. In what year will the Red Sox win the World Series? 2025

13. Would you rather be a forest or a street? A Forest. I prefer not to be run over.

14. What type of case will Marshall win next in court? Inheritance dispute

15. How many fondue forks are in your home? one

16. How many pairs of chopsticks are in your home? I threw them all away when I decided my pride would not be damaged by using a fork.

17. Which species would you most like to see become extinct? politicians

18. What's the biggest prime number you can think of (without the aid of a pencil, paper, computing devices, etc.)? 83

19. What's the largest varmint you've ever dispatched? a cecada

20. Who is your favorite poet? my brother-in-law, Brian

21. How many complete Boobahs episodes have you watched? 0

22. What's the most effective way to annoy your spouse? leave my stuff out on the bathroom counter

23. How many traffic tickets have you received in the past 2 years? 0 (I've never had a traffic ticket, or been pulled over, thank you very much).

24. What's the slimiest thing you can think of? Bill Clinton

25. Who would you rather have as a dinner guest?
a. FDR or TR? TR
b. Dr. Seuss or Dr. Laura? Dr. Laura
c. Darth Vader or Ralph Nader? Darth Vader
d. Richard Nixon or Richard Simmons? Richard Nixon
e. Donald Trump or Donald Duck? Donald Trump - I would attack his hair with scissors
f. Karl Rove or Karl Marx? Karl Rove
g. Count Dooku or Count Basie? Count Basie
h. Bill Clinton or Bill Gates? Bill Gates. I wouldn't want to have to disinfect my house after Bill Clinton
i. Prince Charles or a warty frog? Prince Charles
j. Sponge Bob or Big Bird? Big Bird
k. Jimmy Buffett or Warren Buffet? Warren Buffet
l. Plato's Ghost or WB Yeats? Plato's Ghost
m. Prokofiev or Stravinsky? Stravinsky

26. What's the last item you purchased from Ebay? I'm ashamed to admit I've never purchased anything from Ebay.

27. What's your favorite epitaph? Someone else's

28. Name the most annoying song of all time. The Song That Never Ends

29. What appropriate punishment would you suggest for the creator of said song? To listen to that song and nothing else for eternity.

30. What's your favorite seldom-used word? abominable (close second: lugubrious)

31. Have you ever stepped on a snail? no, thank goodness

32. Have you ever eaten a snail? no, thank goodness

33. Which is more unpleasant? eating a snail

34. Who is the messiest child you have ever known? One of my nieces, I won't say which

35. Who is the messiest adult related to you by blood? Evil HR Lady

36. If you could ban one hymn or primary song, which would it be? Ring Out Wild Bells

37. Have you ever eaten Patagonian Toothfish? No

38. Do you categorically oppose any and all inheritance taxes? Yes

39. What's your favorite ancestor name? Emma

40. Who is your favorite fictional character? Ian Roshek

41. Not created by a close relative? Dumbledore

42. What is your favorite music that you would be least suspected of liking? Country

43. What is meant by mamelon and ravelin? I don't know, but it's in Pirate's of Penzance

On Consequences

I have been thinking lately about consequences. This may have something to do with the fact that I recently had a Day of Reckoning at the dentist. (You can ask my wallet about the consequences of waiting too long between dental visits. I think I actually heard it say "Ouch".)

A month or so ago, "The View" co-host Sherri Shepherd was quoted on all the news outlets saying that she had had "more abortions than she could count". She went on to say that she"carried a lot of shame and guilt about it, until a woman at a conference said “Sherri, when you get to heaven all your babies are going to be there."

I have not been able to stop thinking about this quote ever since I heard it. And there are many reasons, not just because abortion saddens me so deeply. I just find it so interesting that she felt guilty about her choices until someone told her that there were basically no consequences to her actions. She got rid of the babies by her own choice, but now that she's having those twinges of regret, well, it doesn't matter - she'll have her babies back in the next life.

My personal opinion? I don't think she will have those babies at all. I believe she lost the right to those children forever when she decided to abort them. And I also believe that any spirits that may have inhabited those bodies will go to other families who are willing to have them.

Abortion is a tragedy, no matter how you look at it. But sometimes I think an even greater tragedy is that we are being told there are no bad consequences to our actions. Do what you want, it doesn't matter. Have sex with that guy you met in a bar, and then just get rid of whatever byproduct occurs because of it. And if you decide you regret that decision in 30 years, well, it doesn't matter. You can still have those babies in the end, if you want them.

Well, I hope those babies went to people who did want them. And who will teach them about the consequences of their actions.

Miscommunication

I fell off the diet wagon yesterday. Actually, in the words of my sister, "I jumped off the wagon with arms flailing, and enjoyed every calorie of it."

Michael and I decided that we would meet David at his office for dinner so we could actually spend a few minutes with him. I called David and he said, "Go past my office and park in the parking garage under Lord & Taylor and I'll meet you there."

So I went past his office and headed toward the Lord & Taylor parking garage. I thought it was a bit weird that it was across a major road from his office. And then I couldn't go straight, like he had said to. Then my cell phone rang.

David: "Where are you?"
Bonnie: "I couldn't go straight into the Lord & Taylor parking garage like you said. I have to turn around."
David: "Are you lost?"
Bonnie: "I'm on 123."
David: "How did you get over there? I told you to go past my office and park in the Lord & Taylor garage!"
Bonnie: "That's what I tried to do!"
David: "It's right next to my office. How did you miss it?"
Bonnie: "You said to go past your office."
David: "I said turn where you regularly turn and go past the entrance to my office."
Bonnie: "But you said to park in the Lord & Taylor garage. That's where I went."
David: "It's right next to my office!"

So I drove over the garage next to his office and met him there.

David: "How come you didn't come here?"
Bonnie: "You said to park under Lord & Taylor. This is Neiman Marcus."

*David looks at the sign on the store, which says Neiman Marcus*

David: "Oh. I thought it was Lord & Taylor".

No wonder we were both confused. Ha ha! So we wandered through the ugliest collection of $600 skirst I've ever seen, rode a few escalators to Michael's delight, and ended up at a little cafe. I was going to be good and get a salad, but then my frugal self took over in realizing that we would have to purchase three meals if I did that, since Michael isn't so satisfied by a few bits of lettuce. (Wait, me neither!)

So I did the only sensible thing and got Chinese Bourbon Chicken and Fried Rice. And since I had already destroyed my diet, on the way home I bought a candybar and washed it down with a full glass of milk.

It was positively heavenly. Except for the part where I have to repent now.

Six Degrees of Blog Separation (Or Why I'm Glad I Don't Live In Utah)

A friend recently sent me a link to her new blog. She in turn linked to her sister, who links to a bunch of people I was casually acquainted with at one time. So I've been spending the last hour blog-hopping. (In case David is reading this, what I mean is that I've been spending the last hour being productive by scrubbing toilets and ironing shirts...). Sometimes it's fun to click on someone you don't know and see how long it takes you to get to someone you do know. It's surprisingly easy in the world of Mormon blogging.

But I discovered something that reminds me how glad I am not to be living in Utah. Now, I like Utah in general, and I loved growing up there, and I would love to move into Cafe Rio and just sit on the floor and let them throw spare bits of tortilla into my mouth. But I really don't want to move to Utah just now.

Of the 25 or so blogs I clicked on, 99% of them had one of those "We're Expecting" baby widgets that tell you when a little bundle of joy is scheduled to make his or her debut. I have nothing against them in general - I would even describe them as cute. And I enjoy seeing them on my friend's blogs so I can be reminded how far along they are - I like to keep up with how things are going. But it just reminded me of how it feels to walk around, say, Provo, and see 378 pregnant women in one trip to the grocery store. It's a lonely sort of feeling.

So I'm just warning you that if we're ever lucky enough to have another baby, I'm putting a baby countdown widget on my blog.

Got Mo?

I just found out, much to my delight and amusement, that milk is the state beverage of Virginia. I thought you might like to know this bit of information in case you have been wondering just what your legislators are doing all day. I used to think they might be doing something important, but now I know they are just sitting around and submitting random animals and objects for the honor of being the "state" something-or-other. I'm glad to know my tax dollars are being put to good use. (As an aside, it made me wonder what other sorts of weird state things there are - Utah has a state cooking pot, Arizona has state neckwear, Nevada has a state fossil, and Texas, well, Texas just has a really big state ego).

Anyway, back to milk. It is probably my favorite regular beverage. I say regular because it's in my house all the time, and I wouldn't consider ordering it at a restaurant. Of course I never order drinks in a restaurant, I always have water with lemon. But if I did order a drink I probably wouldn't order milk. Unless it was a Mexican restaurant, in which case I would order milk before soda, because soda and spicy food just don't mix.

Anyway, (did I say that already?) due to the new method of torture I've been experimenting with, I can't drink milk like I used to. Well, I could, but I'm already starving (seriously) and I'd rather eat my weight watcher's points than drink them, so that means a serious cutback on my favorite beverage. Michael seems to be making up for my lack of milk-drinking though. He asks for "mo" all day long. That kid can guzzle it down like no child I've ever seen.

And speaking of diets, I'm down three pounds. To celebrate my weight-loss, I ate a candybar.

Priorities, you know.