I know, I know. Not much bloggage lately. But there has been a bit going on. First, yes, I am still training for the triathlon. I just haven't been updating my workouts on the site. Second, the Biggie's preschool nearly imploded because of the evil actions of one vindictive parent, and I have been spending approximately 1,000 hours a day arranging schedules of afterschool care for the kids. Third, the Husband of the Blog’s grad program ended, and our friends are all leaving town. Saying goodbye is NOT GOOD (see “What Free Time?” for details). Fourth, I am in charge of the home renovation, and when I say renovation, I mean revolution, because the place is changing inside out, top to bottom, in a decidedly violent way. I was writing a note to my friend Eric, telling him what we're having done, and it goes as follows: new furnace, water heater, roof, paint job inside and out (we're doing the inside), new heat supplies and returns, new copper pipe, dishwasher installed, new kitchen cabinets, sink and countertop, new fridge, all existing windows replaced plus three new ones punched in the bedroom, parlor and office, insulation blown in the walls, heat-efficient hatch put in the attic, floor refinishing, new porch and steps...anything else? We're going to put new linoleum in the bathroom and retile the kitchen backsplash, too. What's funny is that many of these things simply happen without us really knowing what's going on. I let the floor refinishers in one day, did not give them a key, and left. They locked the doors, I found when I went over that evening, and left their equipment there. I called them to ask when I should let them back in, left messages for the head guy, his son and his other son, and never heard back. The head guy is pretty old, so to tell you the truth I checked the obituaries to make sure there wasn't something REALLY wrong. When I returned to the house a few days later, the floors were sanded and a coat of polyurethane was drying. The doors were still locked. When I returned the following evening (still with no return call), the floors were covered with red rosin paper, and all of the equipment was gone. There was an invoice in the mailbox. The contractors are all pretty goofy, to tell the truth. The painter calls me "Dear" and tells me when he thinks a color combination "looks stupid." The porch guy hardly speaks English but is an architect who wants to talk about mountain biking more than the porch. And on, and on.

The Biggie and Wee One are doing well. The Biggie is signed up for Pre-Ballet, the prospect of which strikes fear into my soccer-jock heart. Oh, the costumes, the posing, the inevitable twisted body image and eating disorders which follow! The Wee One is all over the place, and tried to climb the stairs today. She waves now, at people, cats, dogs, squirrels and most moving objects. She even waved at a miniature cast-iron horse head we saw yesterday.