today

i'm tackling the boxes stacked in the guest room,

most of which are marked with a combination of the following words:

fragile

super-fragile

shells

jars

jars with shells

jars with other things

beakers

croquet balls

fur hat

so. if you need any shells. or jars. or croquet balls, we've got plenty.

also, globes. lots of globes. but only one fur hat.

Duct tape pants update

i'm still wearing them. the corduroys i fixed with duct tape. or should i say ROCKIN them. hard. the duct tape is sort of coming loose. sort of! get off my back! they're still fine, and completely fuzz-less.

I had a baby

for those of you who did not know, i birthed a baby.

magical? wondrous?

perhaps.

if you think the sensation of pushing a bowling ball

out your bottom is magical.

it is. and she's perfect.

Turn that shit UP

i'm not very technical, but the volume on our cd player only turns up to what i think is about a 3. 4 maximum, before it shuts off and starts blinking at me. i cannot. nay, will not live my life on volume 3. those who know me are nodding.

San Francisco-ing

if you've never been, it's filled with mist and smells and lots of little old asian women with sharp elbows. also, a wong memorial park or two.

(above) it's like cheers. where everybody knows your name, if it happens to be willie or woo woo or wong.

seriously. do they even have to add 'tasty'? no, they do not.

and if you'd like to take a look at the other blog i've turned a blind mole eye to it's: bethandjorenshouse.blogspot.com

okay. alright. get off my ass. i've been building a house. and it's exhausting ignoring two blogs instead of just one. you have no idea of the time commitment disregard takes. obviously.