trudy: just bust in with a fire extinguisher next time you smell it, all freaked out, and scream something about calling 911 for the smoke. maybe spray down the smokey gf if need be.

I like this option.

Aww, I remember Brendon pretending to read his memorized books. Verra cute.

There was more, but I have to do actual work this morning.

UKers go loopy every time we see a single snowflake. [link]

It's still fun to see it outside the window!

Grammar edit. After last night's discussion, I feel I should get tense agreement right.

Jessica, I don't know whether I'm dying of envy over the peaceful big-boy bed sleep or just dying of the adorable from the almost-reading. Either way, DED.

And yay, Seska! It shouldn't have been that much of a fight, but huge hoorays for winning it!

way-too-white-for-my-taste Walnut Creek

I grew up there, and you are... not wrong. There's a reason I schlepped my ass out of bed at 5 AM every day of high school to commute to San Francisco.

I'd be on the roaring-vengeance-with-an-extinguisher team myself, Trudy, but then I'm actually allergic, all wheezing and red-eyed and tubercular (actually, any smoke at all; I can't even sit close to a campfire, I'm so pathetic), and it's bad enough to go out to a bar and have some random asshole inflict hir contempt for the smoking ban on me, but there's no way I'd tolerate that misery in my own home. Though, even if you're not allergic, it's on the lease and it's incredibly rude.

Jessica, I don't know whether I'm dying of envy over the peaceful big-boy bed sleep or just dying of the adorable from the almost-reading. Either way, DED.

that's something I've been wondering, have things improved with Matilda's sleeping patterns? (And, equally to the point, with yours?)

After about an hour of playing with his train and having some cereal, Frisco consented to being taken back to bed. He still coughed a lot so I'm taking him to the doctor this afternoon. He doesn't seem sick, except for the coughing at night.

Well, bt, we're all sleeping, but mostly because we have completely given up. She sleeps in our bed, between us; about once a week, one of us will move her to her own bed after she's dropped off, but she always wakes up sobbing as soon as that sleep cycle ends, so we take her back into our bed because otherwise it'll escalate to shrieks and howls. But at least with her in the bed we're all getting a minimum of six unbroken hours, which is much needed.

She does like to pretend to sleep in her bed during the day, and when we wake her too early on get-up-and-go mornings she'll weep, "I want to go back to bed!" and promptly crawl into her own bed and pull the covers over her head. But, at night, it's all about the big bed. Shrug. We'll try again in a few months.

I'm sorry it's not got better than that. At least you're getting some sleep.

Well, the sleep itself is pretty glorious, after the ten harrowing nights of hideous battle. I love sleep so very, very much.

And, as much as I'm past ready for this stage to be over, there is still something unbearably sweet about Matilda burrowing into the crook of my arm as she lets herself fall into unconsciousness. I'm never not aware that our time with this grunty nestling baby mammal intimacy is limited, and that even though I made her out of my own body she'll keep growing away from me and into herself, and that's natural and normal and these are just little moments in her story.

And now I think I have to go snuzzle her for about nineteen more hours.

Morning, y'all.

I'm never not aware that our time with this grunty nestling baby mammal intimacy is limited, and that even though I made her out of my own body she'll keep growing away from me and into herself, and that's natural and normal and these are just little moments in her story.

That is just so beautiful and poignant, JZ.

Eco footnote to my salon visit yesterday - they use reuseable "foils" now for highlighting. They're made of a very thin closed cell foam that just rinses clean. Kinda neat.

Delta update: got an email back that they can't find my reservation. They need my dates of travel (which I gave them) and my flight numbers (which I don't have) or my ticket number (which I don't have). I mean, damn, if I knew those things I could look it up my own damn self! I think it's time to try talking to an actual human. Assuming I can locate one.

I hope you can get the ticket sorted out, smonster. How frustrating.

I was actually lying awake last night trying to puzzle out in what circumstances troop can be singular and why sometimes it sounds like the singular of trousers or scissors. I didn't reach any conclusions, except that language is peculiar.