Much medical-ma for your mother, Callaluna.

I'm still fighting this cold, but I can't lounge around in pjs all day, since I foolishly arranged to have cleaners come. Which means I have to straighten the house, argh.

But first, walk the dog, who really wants to run and play but keeps falling down. Her hips are degrading really rapidly.

All the ~ma for your mother, Callaluna.

I found that my kids started out happy to eat anything, got insanely picky (Annie's Shells to the rescue!) and slowly got better during adolescence. Insisting on "just one bite" did sometimes, slowly, convert a food from anathema into a favorite. There was a while when my daughter ate only vegetables with an a: artichokes, asparagus, avocado. As adults, they're both the sort of person who will order chicken gizzards once because, what the hell, they might be delicious.

tl;dr: My kids weren't perfect foodie kids, but they grew out of it.

Much ease to your ma, Callaluna.

Consuela, I have great sympathy for your pooch's caboose. May the frolicking still be fun for her!

Am catching up after a too-busy weekend, with a serious interview to go to this afternoon. JZ, somehow I missed the details of you having to move!!! Where to, and all that?

I nearly lost it when my iTunes played "Yoshimi Versus The Pink Robots" because it really reminded me of ita being so brave with her health woes.

I also had to refrain from whapping a Very Definitely Hypochondriac friend when she was going on about how she thinks she has post-concussion syndrome (from an accident three years ago, that she only just discovered symptoms of), because sheesh-Louise, it could be SO Much More Awful, you twit.

Neither of my kids are food kids. Grace is eating more by mouth so trying to find tasty manageable foods for her is a challenge. And we definitely cater to her, more by texture than flavor, though. Yesterday we made a sweet potato pudding thing which she likes.

Theo, office move, not home move. To a big sprawling open-plan office with white noise machines going and a few private meeting rooms (with glass walls) and no stairwell access unless you want to set off the alarms. Emmett got me a Katniss Everdeen doll for Christmas and I'm going to station her at the top of my cubicle wall (if Hawkeye weren't so freaking pricey I'd get one of him too -- maybe my scowly Smile Time Angel puppet?). It happens next Friday. I am not full of good cheer about it.

Matilda went through the happy-to-eat-everything phase into the practically-nothing phase, but is slowly edging out of it one bite at a time. We're cozening her along by pointing out that Science Says! it usually takes around five tries before your tongue stops recoiling from a totally unfamiliar taste and starts really assessing it for possible pleasure. I also make a big show of trying out my most-hated food, carrots, every now and then with a reminder that taste buds change and just because I hated something six months ago doesn't mean I'll hate it now, so I need to keep trying. So she's now a Just-One-Biteist.

Oh man. I was looking through the archived World Crossing threads for the origin convo about the Pink Gingham Junta (I saw a mention in Buffista Corp about it being on world crossing, but then a broken link to World Crossing). And I can't find it. Which makes me sad.

No stairwell access?!? The hell?

Poor doggy.

Totally get what your saying re: Yoshimi, Theo.

Mom~ma to Calluna's mum!

Hi. Today was the first day at the Copenhagen office. They like taking the stairs. My body does not like going up stairs. But, the office has fancy self-serve pod espresso machines, and they are amazing.

Also, the breakfast buffet at my hotel is almost good enough to convince me to move in. The coffee was wonderful, and there is a dish of chocolate wedges alongside all the other breakfast foods. Totally my idea of a balanced diet!

edit: Heck, I don't even know when the Super Bowl is.

Sometime before the Daytona 500, I think?

~It's mostly because of this weird hip and thigh pain I have and have had for going on 20 years now. At least I am pretty sure it isn't cancer because I think it would have worsened.

Heat, stretching and I swear by Epsom salt baths when I can. Because, yeah, it's probably not cancer but it fucking hurts. And nothing should go untreated that long, I know.

I'm going to watch Doctor Who, the personally curated edition, since I know it's going away from Netflix soon. And nap.