I've got one of those bruises right now. No clue how it happened.

But I did discover where my laptop can dig into my thigh which explains those bruises. I've reevaluated setting the computer off to the side and presto no bruises there!

I am just way too easily marked to try and figure them all out.

thanks for speaking up there aimee. We've enjoyed being able to meet up with our kid free friends at various places, many of those friends being restaurant owners made living through the stares of diners who looked at us like we'd spit in their appetizers much less soul shriveling. Granted if she or we were disturbing other diners that's one thing and we'd leave. But being ostracized because we have chosen to do something other than hole up in the suburbs is a tough call. I don't know how Europe has survived as long as it has actually.

Though what do I know. She's miserable with the flu or something and I'm likely just venting in between rocking her back to sleep.

A popular bar in Park Slope caused a bit of a local uproar recently when they put up "NO STROLLERS" signs on the door. It wasn't so much that they minded the babies, but the strollers were getting in the way of the non-baby-having patrons.

Little did they realize that a "NO STROLLERS" sign in Park Slope...well, it may as well have been a swastika for the reaction they got. The parents around here can be a wee bit aggressive about maintaining the family-friendliness of the neighborhood.

Eh, I care not about babies in a bar. Small children, possibly. Depends on how they're acting. I could see strollers getting in hte way though.

Playing scramble (facebook boggle) seems to have done the trick, the guy showed up with my UPS at 6:01. Eesh.

Now to figure out if I can get it all set up before Monday...

Heh -- I was thinking about that one, Jess. Union Hall, right?

But being ostracized because we have chosen to do something other than hole up in the suburbs is a tough call.

I'm not talking about restaurants, but about bars, at night. Adult space. A coworker was complaining about the beer garden being run over by little kids, and I told her off -- of course you would want to bring your kid to a place where you're going to sit at a picnic table, eat a brat, and drink some beer. That is not what I'm talking about.

Union Hall, right?

Yep, that's the one.

Feh. After searching for a while for a headboard that was a good balance between not-horribly-ugly and not-horribly-expensive, I finally found one and ordered it. I just got an email that they're sold out, so they're cancelling my order.

I'm not looking for a piece of artwork here! Just something that'll keep my pillows from falling on the floor, and doesn't cost more than about $150. I don't even need for it to last for that long, just a few years, until I can afford real furniture. (The way my apartment is designed, there are weird jutting-out things in most of the corners, so that there's no way to get the head of my bed flush against the way without wasting a whole lot of space around it.)

Yeah, there is a difference in spaces where kids are appropriate. Pure bar late at night? Well, I might be a judgey. I wouldn't take my non-existent kid there. OTOH, maybe it is meeting up with kidless friends when they can and you can't get a sitter at the last minute and holy fuck, you need some adults. Quitting time, a lot more leeway. Serves food to all comers but is technically a bar? I may be judgey without knowing the person, but that's just about me.

Hell, I've taken my friends with babies out with me being the designated driver (couldn't get a sitter, dad out of town, long planned night out- basically I'm the sitter.) Of course, in that case, 1 drink = friend needed a driver and a babysitter when she went to bed.

gotcha. Sorry.

I don't care whoever else is in a bar as long as they're not dictating I change my behaviour. As long as I get to do as much boozing and swearing and ogling as I would normally, I care not a whit for my audience. On the flip side, it doesn't bother me more that it's a one year old in hysterical wordless sobbing for half an hour--in fact it probably bothers me less--than if it were a twenty five year old.

Supermarket guy suggested a red wine I could drink while I cooked with it. Do you know how many of my meds say not to drink while I'm on them? Including the big M? But I guess here is where I work out my boundaries.