Just Another Day

You know, one of the few perks of being a blogger is the fact that sometimes, you get some fantastic swag, and even though many people wouldn't necessarily consider tickets to Disneyland swag, I do. I'd take an experience at Disneyland over cereal or detergent samples any day, even if I got free cereal or detergent every month. I was lucky enough to be invited to Mickey's Halloween Party , this year happening at Disneyland proper rather than California Adventure, where it has been held for the past few years. Being the traditionalist that I am, I was very happy to be at Disneyland. One of my very favorite rides at this time of year is of course the Haunted Mansion, all done up Jack Skellington style. Seriously, I could go on that ride ten times in a row and not get tired of it, or probably see everything. I'm sure you're thinking, but is there candy? Why yes, Virginia, there is candy! Good candy, too. Throughout the park they have trick or treating "trails...

I spend a lot of my time worrying about Ms. P and her sleeping habits, or lack thereof. She is not a great sleeper, and I am a big believer in the power of napping, so I can get a little anxious at times when she hasn't slept enough. Because when she doesn't, it is a big can of fussy that gets opened up on everyone for the rest of the day. So at one point I wanted to try and put her to sleep, but the gardener across the street was making a lot of noise, and it was too hot to close the window. I kept hovering around the window, trying to gauge when he would be finished. I kept muttering rude things under my breath, mostly for him to hurry up already. Hubba-hubba heard me and said, "Why are you telling that poor one-armed gardener to hurry up? He's going as fast as he can!" And because Hubba-hubba is often quite the bullshitter, I told him to shut up, that there was NO SUCH THING as a one-armed gardener. "Oh yeah," he said, "Just go ahead and look ...

It is seared into my memory forever. I will not forget.

Erm, this is awkward. How does this thing work again? It is sad that days go by before I even think about updating this blog, and you've got my daughter to thank for it. My freakishly tiny daughter. You see, we took her for her six month checkup (uhhh, late, as in she was seven months and three weeks old) and they did the whole measurement thingy dingy, what with the body length, head circumference, and weight. And guess what? My daughter should apparently be joining the preemie gang. She is sixth percentile in weight, ninth percentile in height, and thirteenth percentile for head circumference. Now the funny thing is, if you were to see myself and Hubba-hubba, you would think there would be no way such large people could in any way be related to such a tiny child, much less be the parents. Mr. P? He was in the ninety-fifth percentile or above for everything his entire life, so it seems my daughter is a statistical anomaly of sorts. Maybe it is because she is still being breastfed?...

At least that is what American Honda was nice enough to tell me at 6:30am. Me: Hello? Them: May I speak to Hubba-hubba? Me: Uhhh, it's six thirty in the morning, is what you are calling for really all that important? Them: Oh, ahhhh, oh, I see you are in California. Oh, I apologize, I shouldn't be calling you this early. Me: Yes, and? Them: Ah, yes, well, I'm calling about a recall to Hubba-hubba's 2001 Honda Accord. Me: I'm his wife and you can talk to me. Them: Well, yes, this recall involves the metal casing that houses the front airbags has been found to be defective, thus causing metal shards to be propelled at the occupants of the car upon deployment of the airbag, possibly causing serious injury and/or death. Me: Well, good morning to you too!

You know, I'm a liberal. Not what I would call a "bleeding heart" but fairly close. And you know what? Liberals appreciate the sacrifices made by the people in our armed forces every bit as much as any red-stater. Don't even think otherwise. So to all those who gave the ultimate sacrifice, thank you from the bottom of my blue heart.

U2 is one of my all-time favorite bands. My BIL, you should know, is six feet, three inches tall. The last time I saw U2, it was the nineties. The Popmart tour, I believe. I'd seen the ZooTV tour as well, but little did I know it would be almost fifteen years until I would see them again. I don't remember why I couldn't see them in 2001, and in 2006 we had scheduled a trip to San Francisco on the exact same weekend they were here. U2 was also here last October, but that was a mere seven days before I was due to give birth, so we didn't think it was really wise to buy tickets. So of course I find out today that due to Bono's back surgery (sorry, Bono!)they have canceled the American leg of their tour. Because apparently, the universe just does not want me to see U2. My sister tried to console me. She said that she would set up her big, fifteen by fifteen foot outdoor screen in the back yard. She would rent a U2 concert DVD and play it for me. She would also char...