You know that book? Well, it’s not a book yet. It’s a manuscript. It’s too big. I know, wtf? Like someone expected me NOT to be wordy?

So it’s bounced its way back to my desk and I’m now editing. Eventually I’m going to stop recognizing this as my own writing and read it for the first time again. For now I’m puzzling through all the pages trying to chop chop chop some more.

Also, on Canada Day, Freebird decided that he wanted to sing O Canada as his lullabye. My boyz, they are awesome. 

After two months of nonstop work on The Book, I have time to read magazines. OMG the luxury. Freebird is watching tv from under his coffee table bed/fort (note to self: get the boys a tent at some point) and I’m in a chair drinking coffee and reading magazines from the past 3 months. Blissssssss.

But I have to ask: Who the fuck is Domino kidding with this outdoor furniture shit? $1200 for a table that gets rained on? $1500 for a wrought iron sofa WITH CUSHIONS that gets RAINED ON? $750 for a chaise that… wait for it… GETS RAINED ON? What are they smoking? I don’t spend that much on INDOOR furniture (that gets jumped on) much less the stuff that sits outside and gets rained on, to say nothing of pollen, tree detritus, seeds,apples, and flower residue.

Seriously. Craigs List. If I’m in the market for an outdoor set, I’ll haunt the used listings and get someone’s $1500 set for less. I can’t wrap my brain around spending that much for something that will look dirty and messy after one good rainstorm.

Clearly, there must be something wrong with me.

My cousin and his wife had a baby girl yesterday. After being induced because doctors feared the baby was too small, their bouncing bundle of “hey!” was 6lbs. 6oz. and totally freaking normal. So happy and so relieved.

I’m going to try to go visit, and I’m torn. On one hand, I shouldn’t show up empty handed, but on the other hand, bringing gifts to the hospital means more stuff for them to schlep home tomorrow. So, I’m thinking bring nothing. Will I look like an asshole? Who knows. 

Someday I’ll probably be back to complaining about normal weekend routines, but this weekend was full of errands and shopping and walking and hanging out and I loved every minute just because I got to do it. I wasn’t sequestered up in my office all day, staring at my laptop, squeezing one more word out of my tired brain.

Hubby and I usually exchange sleep-ins, wherein one of us snoozes until they feel like getting up while the other is up with Baba, who usually awakes hungry and loud at about 6 or 630. This weekend we decided to do late wake-ups for each of us, but only until 7. Trust me, when the baby wakes up at 6 on a Saturday morning, a 7am wakeup is a luxury. So I got up for Hubby on Saturday because he was painfully tired when Baba O’Riley started babbling, and pretty much all men were up and at ‘em by 730.

Then, I made pancakes.

Attention. Please read the previous sentence. I MADE PANCAKES. 

I got on the bus this morning and smelled hot patchouli. The driver was burning incense. Why? No idea. She was very much in love with both the gas and the brake pedal, so I don’t think it improved her driving any, but the bus smelled like we were all trying to cover something up. Yet no one was passing the dutchie, which would have made the commute a lot more fun.

This weekend we have Things to Do. Outside the house. I will not spend the entire weekend in my office working. I may not even spend that much time staring at my laptop. I don’t know what to do with myself, honestly. It’ll be weird, but very fun.

Story time! We took a walk with the boys and the dog before dinner last night, and Freebird didn’t want to get in the stroller. He wanted to walk. So we let him walk alongside the stroller - once we were around the corner from the busy main street we live on, sans sidewalk, WTF is up with that we do not know - and he picked up a stick. AND a rock. And proceeded to tell us all about the rock and the stick and how he had them. It was the Stick & Rock Show, with special guest Freebird. And when I asked what he was doing, as he tapped his stick on the sidewalk, he said, ‘I’m stickin’!’

Agreed. Whatever stickin’ is, he was definitely doing it. Then, a few minutes later, “I’m walkin’ like a big boy! With my stick! And my rock!”

Today while I was walking to my office, I thought to myself: I’m walking like a Big Girl! With my coffee! And my purse!

Totally not as much fun as would be with a stick and a rock, but what can I do?

I hope your weekend is filled with big walks, and sticks, and rocks. Cool ones, too.

I read about this in Crain’s New York, and I’ve been fascinated by it for weeks. Unfortunately, I do not have a table and chairs to eat at - UNTIL NOW because I COOKED IN THE KITCHEN OMG I NEED TO LIE DOWN FOR A MINUTE.

Ok. Better now.

I cooked pasta with chicken and red sauce, ON THE STOVE TOP OMG with REAL FIRE, and had dinner with Hubby IN A CHAIR at the COUNTER which WAS INSTALLED LAST WEEKEND.

Seriously. I’m going to start hyperventilating.

But as for Freebird, he’s too short for most chairs and he HATES sitting in a booster seat. Behold: the Kaboost. I hope he digs it. I’m really excited - which likely means he’ll be utterly unimpressed - and did I mention I COOKED FOOD IN THE KITCHEN?

I did?

How about the fact that I WASHED POTS in the SINK AND RAN the DISHWASHER!?

Pics coming soon. I promise.

Last night Hubby, who is Uber Dad, took Baba O’Riley to his nine month checkup.

Side note: NINE MONTHS?! WTF IS UP WITH THAT?

Baba is over 22 pounds, and is officially Too Big for the Infant Carrier. I’ve been resisting this for so long, I’m really peeved that he’s outgrown it to the point that it’s a requirement that we get the new seat for Freebird so that Baba can have his carseats. I like the infant carrier! It’s a basket! With a baby in it! I can sling it over my arm, and still have one hand free to grab Freebird when it’s time to leave school. Now I have super dude to corral, with Baba the Giant Baby on my hip, no basket in sight. Well, I will when the new car seats arrive.

Of course, I should look at the bright side. When the new seats arrive and we have to install them, I will have no choice but to dispatch both cars to the car wash with the super powered vacuums to rid the backseat of 2 years of child detritus. At the very least, my car will be clean.