My clock works like this: if vw and Cindy are posting, it's too early for the rest of the States, afternoon for me and Jars and Fay and Nilly, way too late for billytea, and WAY TOO FREAKING EARLY for the West Coasters, so if Cass is posting it's because she's not sleeping.

Raq's "math" is also my math.

If Raq is posting the first message in a bit, then it is certainly late. Same with Fay and Jars. And I should hie thee to bed.

If Cindy or vw post? Oh noes I must club myself over the head in an effort to sleep.

Once the rest of the east coast is posting? Time to just tick one more in the Lost column and make some coffee.

Buffista time math.

Cass is the wildcard

::shakes head sadly::

I gotta get less nocturnal...

I wasn't looking forward to attempting to hold medicinal peas to his face.

But you *had* the medicinal peas. Good mom.

At one point in Chris's toddlerhood (starting around Mal's age, I'm pretty sure) he kept banging the same spot on his forehead, every time he fell. There was perpetual bump and bruise in the same spot. We used to joke that he had Angel forehead.

Bwah! Angel forehead...

We just looked at each other and laughed. R said "Did you get me the same thing I got you?" To which I replied, "I sure hope so."

Heh! Happy Anniversary! I used to send P and her DH a card every year. I was the only one of the three of us that remembered... Which reminds me that their anniversary is coming up, time to see if they've finally starting noting it...

Are you staying blonde, erika? Cause your hair looks fabulous.

Off to vacuum the couch (and the cat if she doesn't rrrrrrrrrruuuuuuuuuuun), grab some things at Trader Joe's and then head to the train station.

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I am amused. Just clicked the Amtrak schedule to see when the Jilli train leaves. Right this exact minute is when.

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I'm about to kill my dad. I have no idea where he is, we're doing this moonlight kayak tour thing and they leave at 5:30. It's 5:15 by my count. Dad hasn't called, I tried to call him. I'm calling to let them know we'll be late but there and they said they'd stall. This is his Father's Day present.

This shouldn't upset me since he's chronically late his whole life. I should have told him we're supposed to meet up at 5. I just wish he'd call and say he was going to be late.

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No, didn't cut the color off...my hair really digs being processed. Like "chemicals! Yum!" (Yikes...my follicles are Bubbles.)

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Ack. Your dad is so much like my dad in some ways, Askye.

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askye, how just completely frustrating.

No, didn't cut the color off...my hair really digs being processed. Like "chemicals! Yum!" (Yikes...my follicles are Bubbles.)

Chemicals are yum sometimes. They make us pretty and stuff.

Off to Google map...

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ETA: And I'll try to post haircut photos. It's jaw-length, and pretty much all one length, so it's still the Wild Mane but shorter.

::taps foot impatiently::

Poor Mal's noggin! It's tough when they do a facial, but when they're toddlers they're (a) closer to the earth ground; and (2) they're top-heavy. So it's toddle toddle fwaaaa-KONK.

Emmett's team won again. We're 2-0 in the playoffs and we face the other unbeaten team on Monday. Emmett almost made two great defensive plays, both while playing first base. He stretched to maximum capacity to try to get a throw from short but just got pulled off. And he came charging hard on a short pop foul with bases loaded and one out in the last inning, but just missed the ball as he slid into the fence.

Otherwise he hit pretty well, and scored two runs - the last one being a difference maker. It was a total nailbiter where Eian (the manager's son) went out to pitch the last inning with a 7-4 lead. Got one out among several walks and dinker doink hits and while we still had the lead, started to lose his shit and cry on the mound. (This is about when Emmett went into the fence to try and get the foul pop.) Then they hit a fly ball into left and one of our shakier fielders came in and made a knee-high save for the out. It was 7-6 with the bases loaded when Eian finally struck out the last batter. So much pressure! I thought Elliott, Eian's dad, was going to have a stroke when Eian (usually our best control picture) started throwing pitches in the dirt.

Low point in the game for Emmett was when he got picked off second. Sooooo embarassing. He was in denial about it ("I was on the bag!") but I was third base coach and he wasn't. He was just standing there thinking he was on the bag and it looked terrible because we had the bases loaded and were threatening. After a little cry he got over it and got his head back in the game and played pretty well.

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Ouch, poor Emmett. But I love what a resilient kid he is.

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Oh, also. Flakes have gotten a bad rap around here the past couple of days. Today, though, I was expecting my sis to arrive about four. So I cracked a beer a little before that.

I may have mentioned that I have this thing about opening a beer, throwing on some music, and going on a cleaning jag. So when I finally hear from my sis, calling from home about when I expected her to arrive, I already had the first two well underway. So now, when she does arrive, which should be in about an hour, she'll be coming to a really much, much cleaner, better organized apartment. Flaking worked for her!

'Course, I'll be half in the bag by then (if I'm not already). But clean!

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Ouch, poor Emmett. But I love what a resilient kid he is.

Honestly, it's like the only meaningful mistake he's made on the field in about 10 games. It was so public and careless, though. But his teammates were supportive and Elliott didn't bark about it at all (and usually he's QUITE verbal when somebody does something bone-headed). Actually the whole team was cheering on Eian and pulling for him - it was nice.

There's nothing worse in Little League (barring injury) than watching your kid lose his shit while he's pitching. The pressure out there can get intense.

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