Odds And Ends

I can’t seem to get my poop together to stay on top of this blogging thing. Part of the problem stems from the fact that I like to post pictures to support the written nonsense but I lost a package of batteries to the camera ($17.99!) and was being stubborn about buying more but I went to Target today and, voila, problem solved. Talk about “Living In The Red” as the Target jingle goes. I also bought a big blue ball for Willem because Lord knows he won’t have enough of those in his future. I couldn’t leave without some candy, gum, a shoe rack for the closet that hubby requested (yes, he has many pairs of shoes, most he shares with Guy Fantasy), and some goodies for this precious new member of our family…

“World, meet Isabella Zuniga. Bella, meet the world!” She's got some sweet cheeks!




She is the little sister of Paloma and the child of hubby’s brother who is number ten in a family of ten.

Another reason I haven’t been blogging is because nothing much has been happening lately. We cleaned the house spotless yesterday. *Yawn* Hubby busted his hump and made piles of things mysteriously disappear from the places they had been living for months. I’m sure it was all stuffed in drawers and closets but the end result was impressive. They say if you don’t want to be asked to do something then do it poorly. Daddy’s in trouble now. I went to see a play called Bad Dates with some girlfriends on Saturday and thank goodness they weren’t bad dates because the play was a stinker. At least I got to steep in some sassy estrogen.

We’ve wrestled a few cahrazy storms in the area the past few nights. One of them had winds racing through the neighborhood at 70 mph with marble-sized hail peppering the landscape. We only lost one large tree branch but it barely missed daddy’s car. He’s terrified of storms where I could be a storm chaser in an instant. I’m also the kind of person to say “Oh my gosh, you gotta come seeeeee this!” and when daddy is timidly inching up to the door for a peek at the storm activity, I poke him in the side and yell “Boo!” or Sssstttt!” or something to make him jump out of his skin. Yeah, it’s sorta mean but I have two younger brothers. Need I say more?

Speaking of spooking brothers, I remember a time when my youngest brother who was about 3 at the time (and is 16 years younger than I am) was just fresh from a bath and standing butt naked in his closet looking for what, I haven’t a clue. I decided to don a short brunette wig and pop in to say hi but little did I know that it would scare the bajeebus out of him and I’d have to practically untangle him from closet debris. I sounded like his sister but looked like Viola Swamp. I don’t think he’s ever dated a short-haired brunette in his life, come to think of it.

A girlfriend sent me a link today to www.milkscreen.com where you can find out the amount of alcohol in your breastmilk and then decide if you should feed it to your baby or just drink it yourself because, hey, why waste perfectly good alcohol? Just add some coffee liquor and you've got an awesome White Russian!

On that note, don't you wish I really had something significant to write about? I'll try harder next time.