To Anne, Comtesse, Drivler's wife, et al… Happy Mother's Day!
I find it ironic that today falls after two days of doing the least amount of baby care I've done since actually getting pregnant. But I got a gift certificate to a day spa, anyway. Thanks, fellas. You're my guys.
Most of this week was spent being apprehensive about the oral surgery I endured this morning. The gum around one of my teeth is the consistency of one of those Listerine PocketPal sheets so the periodontist informed me that he'd need to remove skin from my soft palate and graft it around my tooth, with the help of two assistants and a bazillion stitches, some of which will self-dissolve but the rest will need to be manually removed in another office visit a week from now.
Yes indeed, the procedure sucked every bit as much as anticipated. The only thing that got me through it was the mp3 player I gave Monstro for Christmas. Oh, and about fourteen quarts of injectible Novacaine.
So I got home, iced the area, popped a Vicodin and a fistful of Advil (a Clint Eastwood sequel coming soon!), rested for four hours, bled out the roof of my mouth, and finally felt well enough to crawl over to the computer, where I learned that 1) the woman from my Chico church who died this week was actually the parter of that church's previous pastor, a lady who retired before Monstro and I joined the congregation and 2) Scoble's mom suffered a massive stroke and is not expected to live. And suddenly, hours of gum surgery might as well have been April in Paris.
The funeral for Joan will be in Chico at our former church, and will involve the very conservative Calvary congregation where Joan's son is in the ministry, as well as our own recently reconciled congregation (reconciled to be welcoming to gays by, like, nine votes — it was a bloody battle and I refused to transfer my membership to our new church until I was able to send in a “yes, please” ballot to Chico), plus the gay community. I pray that all hearts are touched by the proceedings.
I've known Robert Scoble since Macintosh System Seven and shall pray fo them that family is able to provide the loving fellowship for one another that I'm afraid Chico might not be able to do.
At least, that's what the Dems should be calling him. The Republicans might prefer “Donald Rumsfeld is a fan of revisionist history.” You make the call.
So I've been thinking of selling this watch I have, because, even though it's pretty, I don't retain very good memories of the person who gave it to me, and hey, I could use the bucks. So I've been online looking for it, so I can get an idea of what it's worth. And I can't find the freakin' thing ANYWHERE. It's seriously Twilight Zone. Like it never existed, except in the alternate dimension in which I live.
In this day and age, is it unreasonable for me to expect that EVERYTHING is available on the Internet, somewhere?
And, anyone know a good watch appraiser? I might bring him something he's never seen before.
Here's a new pic of our little guy. He's in the pre-teething stage, hence the drool. Wardrobe provided by Grandpa Ed. Wiffle ball courtesy of kitty Jasmine.
It's official — the baby is now sleeping better than I am. Ugh. He woke up at 2:30 and went right back to sleep. Nearly three hours later, I'm still awake. Even my new book on the history of the NSA didn't put me under. And I'm still nursing, so that means Tylenol PM is out. Grrr. My brain is too full, and my Brian is too wheezy for me to wake him up with a clear conscience, and I can't clean house because that would be too loud (I'm kind of a maniac when I clean the house).
So, here I am. Anyone up for a game of cards?
mean, this almost was my anniversary. Monstro was really eager for us to get married on May fourth. Why? So that the pastor could offer the following benediction:
“May the fourth be with you.”
Yeah. His favorite date is May fourth — mine is March fourth. We celebrated by walking into town and being happily surprised at running into a bunch of people we know: two people Brian knew, my doula, and Nicki and Emily. Pretty great.
At 1:00 I finished work on the Web site I've been doing for a client. It looks great, reads clean, and I really feel like I've outdone myself. I'll send a link to anyone who wants it (or anyone who's looking for a geriatric care manager).
Then this afternoon I read some of the comments at http://manolobrides.com and saw that people have refered to me as “lucky Motormouth” and “Motormouth is right.” Both of which are, as always, music to my ears.
Afterwards, I took some pictures of Alexander in his little Oakland A's outfit and one of them is the cutest picture EVER taken of him (and yes, this includes the Easter Bunny picture).
And then, the coup de grace, I took the Muppet personality quiz and achieved nirvana:
You Are Miss Piggy
A total princess and diva, you're totally in charge – even if people don't know it.
You want to be loved, adored, and worshiped. And you won't settle for anything less.
You're going to be a total star, and you won't let any of the “little people” get in your way.
Just remember, piggy, never eat more than you can lift!
Monstro had a good day online, too, but I'll let him tell you about that. Or I'll blab if he doesn't.
“This administration is soaring. If anything, they are rearranging the deck chairs on the Hindenburg!”