Revelations from our recent trip back east to Quistilton family headquarters:
Rest stops are called “Pee Barns.”
If you talk about it, it will come, as in, “Be sure to let me know if you have to pee, so I can stop at a pee barn.” (10-second pause) “Mama, I have to pee now.”
The proper attire for “Sun Ballet,” apparently performed only when the temperature is 12 degrees: Bathing suit, tutu, and feathered open-toe slippers.
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
The enterprising folks at AdsByGoogle have once again dared to put an ad on my site. Nothing potentially offensive this time. I’m not really sure how they decided my blog is related to campaigns, though. Perhaps I should endorse a candidate. I’m sure Clark is counting on the approval of the Quistilton Faction, certain that it will pave his way to victory.
I’m curious, though--is Google watching me? “Let’s see how she reacts to the ‘Related Searches: Mermaid Parade’ bar!” To tell you the truth, I’m glad they started putting ads up again. I was feeling guilty about having them host my nonsensical ramblings without potential profit by my benefactors (and let me tell you, I’m bringing in the customers--I know of one confirmed purchase of fuzzy slippers from a link on this site).
Not much happening in the kid department, though I think I can safely say we have a potty champion on our hands. There are many, many hilarious anecdotes related to that process, but I really can’t share them. I would have to put too many dollars in the girl’s therapy jar.
We have added another blog-link, from another mom who also chooses to spend what little free time she has away from her kid blogging about what little free time she has away from her kid. Check it out.
I’m curious, though--is Google watching me? “Let’s see how she reacts to the ‘Related Searches: Mermaid Parade’ bar!” To tell you the truth, I’m glad they started putting ads up again. I was feeling guilty about having them host my nonsensical ramblings without potential profit by my benefactors (and let me tell you, I’m bringing in the customers--I know of one confirmed purchase of fuzzy slippers from a link on this site).
Not much happening in the kid department, though I think I can safely say we have a potty champion on our hands. There are many, many hilarious anecdotes related to that process, but I really can’t share them. I would have to put too many dollars in the girl’s therapy jar.
We have added another blog-link, from another mom who also chooses to spend what little free time she has away from her kid blogging about what little free time she has away from her kid. Check it out.
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
Charles figured out how to post links to other blogs on our site. I am telling you this, because the font on the header is small enough that only ants can read it. I don’t want to tell him that, because it took him a while to get to it and he doesn’t have a ton of extra time right now to fix it. I don’t know, maybe he’ll just...read about it...somewhere.
Anyway, the links are to two other blogs I read, one by my friend Shane who works with Charles (“Happily Stuck in Ithaca”) and another by my friend Scott from Seattle (“Fishsuit”). They are fun, and also fart-ad free.
I know I haven’t posted anything in a week, but not much of excitement has happened lately. Well, there is DEFINITE, REAL progress in the potty department, but if I write about that, Murphy’s Law (which rules my life) dictates that said progress will come to a screeching halt. Let me just say that we will be investing heavily in Princess Fruit Snacks for the short-term future. (Hopefully it’s for the short term. Can you see me getting the call to go to her office when she’s a high-powered attorney? “Hey Mom, get on down here--I peed! I need my Princess Fruit Snacks before I go into the deposition.”)
OK, one neat thing did happen yesterday morning. Ariel is the Little Mermaid Princess, and the Kidderito really likes her because she has a tail. Oh, and those things acting in place of a bra? They’re not seashells, they’re “gills.” Just so you know. Anyway.
(Brief aside here. Do you ever go to drink your coffee, and instead of pouring it in your mouth, you just miss your mouth altogether and nonchalantly pour it onto your chest? Not like the cat nudged you and jostled your arm, no, you just forgot where in space your mouth is located.)
So she's pretending to be Ariel from her package of fruit snacks (“before her voice gets lost in the ocean”) and she’s sashaying around the house while I attempt to inject coffee directly into my bloodstream. “I’m going to draw a picture of me!” “Excellent,” I say, and hand her some markers before I grab the comics. She draws a tiny alien-like figure with long hair and dances around a little more. “I am going to write my name!” “Cool,” I say as I try to make it all the way through “Doonesbury.” She knows how to write her own name, and likes to pretend-write with scribbling. She thrusts the paper into my face. “See, I wrote my name!” On the paper is a very definite “r E L.” Okay, so the “E” has four horizontal bars and “r E L” is followed by “io” like in her own name, but come on, folks, the kid is three!
Anyway, the links are to two other blogs I read, one by my friend Shane who works with Charles (“Happily Stuck in Ithaca”) and another by my friend Scott from Seattle (“Fishsuit”). They are fun, and also fart-ad free.
I know I haven’t posted anything in a week, but not much of excitement has happened lately. Well, there is DEFINITE, REAL progress in the potty department, but if I write about that, Murphy’s Law (which rules my life) dictates that said progress will come to a screeching halt. Let me just say that we will be investing heavily in Princess Fruit Snacks for the short-term future. (Hopefully it’s for the short term. Can you see me getting the call to go to her office when she’s a high-powered attorney? “Hey Mom, get on down here--I peed! I need my Princess Fruit Snacks before I go into the deposition.”)
OK, one neat thing did happen yesterday morning. Ariel is the Little Mermaid Princess, and the Kidderito really likes her because she has a tail. Oh, and those things acting in place of a bra? They’re not seashells, they’re “gills.” Just so you know. Anyway.
(Brief aside here. Do you ever go to drink your coffee, and instead of pouring it in your mouth, you just miss your mouth altogether and nonchalantly pour it onto your chest? Not like the cat nudged you and jostled your arm, no, you just forgot where in space your mouth is located.)
So she's pretending to be Ariel from her package of fruit snacks (“before her voice gets lost in the ocean”) and she’s sashaying around the house while I attempt to inject coffee directly into my bloodstream. “I’m going to draw a picture of me!” “Excellent,” I say, and hand her some markers before I grab the comics. She draws a tiny alien-like figure with long hair and dances around a little more. “I am going to write my name!” “Cool,” I say as I try to make it all the way through “Doonesbury.” She knows how to write her own name, and likes to pretend-write with scribbling. She thrusts the paper into my face. “See, I wrote my name!” On the paper is a very definite “r E L.” Okay, so the “E” has four horizontal bars and “r E L” is followed by “io” like in her own name, but come on, folks, the kid is three!
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