Come on, this can't be serious...
They're making a Bratz movie? Not just a cartoon, but a real movie with teenage actresses?

This is the worst idea since Spice World.

Weaning
I noticed Tracie's mentioning of trying to wean kids from the bottle at an early age. I am going through this problem right now. Doodle STILL takes milk from a bottle -- usually one in the morning and one at night. We have really tried to cut them out completely but it's hard on everyone involved when Doodle doesn't get his "ba."

We've gotten to the point where we will not offer him one unless he asks for it, so sometimes he will only ask for one a day. And we have done the water substitution thing, as well, which works sometimes and other times doesn't.

This morning, I was running late and Doodle got up late, so when he asked for his "Ba" there were literally 5 minutes left before we had to be out the door. I quickly gave him a bottle with water in it, and continued to get ready for work. This touched off the most gigantic tantrum Doodle has ever had. He cried and screamed for a Ba, and then, when I carried him off to the car, he went totally nuts. He screamed for it the entire way to day care, and then wouldn't let me let go of him once we got there.

I have huge Mommy Guilt now, but I also am glad that I held firm. He's almost two and we really need to move on to the big boy cup.

Not helping in this situation is my mother in law, who, when I told her the plan to ix-nay on the ottle-bay, pretty much pooh-poohed the whole thing and said that he just uses it for comfort and it's ok for him to have it. Not only that, but when he's at her house, she will just offer him a bottle without him asking for one. *sigh*

Advice? Sympathy? I'll take it.

Catching up
I fall in and out of the blogging habit. Mostly because I don't really have much to say most days. I have no idea what happened to my ambition to write -- even though I still enjoy it, it's too much of an effort for me most days. As Beavis would say, "It hurts to use my imagination!"

I'm also anticipating huge change in my life, very soon. No, I'm not pregnant again. Nor do I plan to be, at least not right now. I'm trying to figure out, career wise, where I want to be and what I want to do. I haven't felt comfortable blogging about my work situation lately, not that I think people would read it, but better safe than sorry, ya know? Plus, I'm saving it all for the tell-all book that I will eventually write ;)

My husband has a large job-related decision to make somewhere in the near future, as well, that will hurt us financially in the short run but ultimately be better for us once all's said and done. Changes.

I have some fun things planned in the next few weeks. We're taking Doodle to the zoo on Sunday, which should be an adventure. Next weekend I'm visiting my alma mater for some good old fashioned revelry. I'm going to a concert next week -- Morrissy -- and yes, I wear black on the outside because black is how I feel on the inside.

This is the first season that I truly, truly do not care who wins or loses American Idol. I barely watch the show other than the last five minutes of the vote-out episode, just because I need to know. I can't stand the Seacrest banter anymore. It wasn't funny five seasons ago and it certainly isn't funny now. I am very much into "Lost" -- I didn't watch last night's episode yet so don't tell me what happened.

I'm sure I have some pictures and/or videos to post soon, when I get around to it...

Get this potty started
Getting feedback on Doodle's activities in day care is always interesting for me. I am looking forward to seeing my son's personality develop, to see what activities he prefers. For instance, whether he likes the arts and crafts time, or playing outside, or singing songs.

Last week, I found out that what Doodle likes to do most is sit on the potty.

Apparently, each day, several times a day, they have "potty time," where each child in his group, potty trained or not, gets a turn to sit on the potty. Doodle always tries to get to be first in line for Potty Time, and then cries when his turn is over. He never does anything on the potty, but apparently enjoys the act of sitting. Often, he even tries to cut back in line to get another turn on the throne.

That's my boy!

A post about Falco
Last night, as my husband was making dinner and listening to the 80's channel on Sirius, the Falco hit "Rock Me Amadeus" came on the radio. And he reminded me, that a few weeks ago when we had our false-start spring, we were on a walk, and one of those low rider, pimped out cars passed us with a couple guys in it and they were BLASTING "Rock Me Amadeus" with the bass booming and everything. It was pretty amusing to see a couple of playas rock out to some Falco.

In preparing to write this post, I googled the song to see if I could find the lyrics, particularly the U.S. remix version where he lists all the great accomplishments of Mozart's life... culminating in my favorite part of the song...

1756, Salzburg, January 27, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is born
1761, at the age of five Amadeus begins composing
1773, he writes his first piano concerto
1782, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart marries Constance Weber
1784, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart becomes a free mason
1791, Mozart composes "The Magic Flute"
On December 5th of that same year, Mozart dies
1985, Austrian rock singer Falco records... ROCK ME AMADEUS (AMADEUS AMEDEUS ... echoes)

Only in the 80's. They just don't make em like this anymore.

It's a boy
Last night, during Doodle's bath, he farted in the tub. He looked down in surprise, laughed, and then looked at me and said, "Bubbles!"

How was I supposed to not crack up at that? Really.

Stars Go Blue
This annoys me enough that I need to say: "When the Stars Go Blue" was a Ryan Adams song WAY before it was a Tim F-ing McGraw song, and certainly also before it was a Coors/Bono song.

I feel much better now.

My ship has come in

Just when I was feeling like I would never be able to get myself out of debt, this fortuitous e-mail arrived in my inbox this morning from a charming British woman... my comments are in bold parenthesis. I think I need to make a swift reply to help the financial predicament!

From: Lady Toreth Hughes
52 Oxford Street,England

Here (where?) writes Lady Toreth Hughes, suffering from cancerous ailment. I am married to Sir Richard Hughes an Englishman who is dead. Our life together as man and wife lasted for three decades without child. My husband and I made a vow to uplift the down-trodden and the less-privileged or financial predicament (?). When my late husband was alive he deposited the sum of 20 Million (20 Million Great Britain Pounds Sterling which were derived from his vast estates and investment in capital market) with his bank here in UK. Presently, this money is still with the Bank. Recently, my Doctor told me that I have limited days to live due to the cancerous problems I am suffering from. Though what bothers me most is the stroke that I have in addition to the cancer (wow, and she's still able to e-mail me). I need you to help me in fulfiling my husbang obligation which i am presently unable to fulfil. I will brief you more on your swift reply. Toreth

Doodlepictorial



Ah, spring. In late March, it arrived, and life was good.



The crocuses bloomed ...



And Uncle Dom ...



Had his usual psychotic break.



But, just as spring had arrived, it left again and the snow returned ... with a vengeance.



Doodle got a soccer ball from grandma at Easter, which quickly became his most prized possession.



He got to play with GOGGIES...



And just like taking candy from a baby, a huge Pointer has no problem taking cheese from a toddler, moments after this photo was taken.



I'm just glad that I got to eat the rear end off of a lamb-shaped butter again this year.

God Bless You, Mr. Vonnegut
You were an inspiration to me into becoming the writer I am today.
You will be missed.
(link)

Stupid people
I'm all fired up right now because of some asshat lady that works at my company. Something about her just rubs me the wrong way. OK, it's not something -- it's the fact that SHE thinks that I am stupid, when I know for a fact that it's the other way around.

She sent my boss an e-mail saying that I never did something, which I most definitely did do, several months ago, and I e-mailed it to her, and I saved the e-mail in my C.Y.A. file. It seems that whenever I do something for her, she loses it and then claims that I never did it. HATE. HER.

Fortunately my boss feels the same way I do, and was on my side. But still... it gets me all riled up. I need to let go and not care. Or I could take the advice just offered to me by I.B.L.: get on a Harley and ride into the sunset. Not sure where he came up with that one, but I'll go with it.

Peep-o-rama
This is especially for you, Green Tuna.
Peep Art

In mourning
Late last night, I finally worked up the gumption to watch Nate Fisher die.

I've been watching the cleaned-up reruns of Six Feet Under that Bravo's been showing. Almost immediately, I knew that this was one of my all-time favorite TV shows. The characters are so flawed, and so real, that I have felt like I actually know these people. When I see the actors turn up on other shows (George, most recently, as Jack Bauer's dad, or Brenda on "Brothers and Sisters" -- ), I still think of them as their Six Feet Under characters (except Rainn Wilson, when he showed up as quirky Arthur on SFU, I just thought of him as young Dwight Schrute).

I never watched this show when it was on HBO. I didn't have the channel when the series first began, and I'm not one to start a show mid-way through (with the very notable exception of "Lost" -- which makes me a weirdo, but we knew that, right?). I was intrigued by it, and when I learned it would be shown on Bravo, I set my DVR.

Back when the show's run on HBO ended, I remembered hearing the buzz when the show ended because they had killed off a major character. Always a fan of spoilers, I went on HBO's website when I started watching the reruns, to read episode summaries so I could find out just who it was that found him/herself a product of the show's title. (Please not Nate. Please not Nate. No whammies. No whammies.) When I read that it was, indeed, Nate, it didn't ruin my appreciation for the show, it only enhanced it. I watched early-season episodes with that tragic knowledge, and was more emotionally connected to the family than ever before.

I have been slowly keeping up with my DVR with the hearty serving of three, hour-plus episodes that Bravo airs each Monday, but I knew from the previews that Nate's end was near.

I watched the episode precluding his death and I was a basket case. So I knew that the next one would be even worse. I prepared myself, but it took several days.

When Nate's final moments of life actually took place, I was ready. I was ready to cry and to feel the pain the entire family felt. And I was even able to laugh at the more light-hearted moments.

I have three more episodes to watch of this incredible series, including Nate's funeral, and I will have kleenex at the ready. And when it's over I will miss the Fishers. They feel like family to me. Which is a tribute to the show's writers, actors, and everyone involved in the show. It's a wonderful series.

Here comes Doodle cottontail


I'm sure some of you are sick of seeing this already. I posted it and emailed it to everyone I could think of. Sorry. I guess that comes with the territory of being a baby's momma.

Conversation with my grandma
G: How's your job going?
K: Allright, I guess.
G: You're the receptionist?
K: No, I'm a graphic designer.
G: But you always answer the phone when I call you.
K: I have a direct line.
G: So, what do you do?
K: I'm a graphic designer. I work in a marketing department.
G: So what do you do during the day. Answer the phone?
K: No, I design things.
G: Like what?
K: Like ads in the newspaper.
G: Would I have seen an ad you did?
K: Yes, in the real estate section.

At this point my dad pipes up.
D: (quietly) You don't do those ads, do you?
K: (whispers) No, but I'm trying to give her something she'd understand.
G: How would I know that you did it?
K: You wouldn't.

And so on.

Oh, Gawd
Over the past few days, Doodle has really started to imitate my actions, as well as some of my words, as well as the words and actions of my husband. We have been trying to be super careful, as the mere mention of some words, such as "cookie", will set him into fits.

Yesterday, as we were leaving the house, I was holding Doodle's hand as we walked down the front steps. He tripped going down one of the steps, and I heard, in MY VOICE, him say, "Oh, GAWD!!!!!"

Oh no. Corrupted already.

What's wrong with me
I am so bored at work that I just read an article on "Dancing with the Stars" ... and I don't even watch that show.

I have problems.

This one speaks for itself

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there


We got a little bit of snow on Valentine's Day... just a dusting, as you can see in this pic. In honor of pitchers and catchers reporting to spring training, my husband made sure that he displayed this reminder that winter will be over soon -- not soon enough, in my estimation.

Super Bowl review
First of all, Peyton Manning... I'm over it. I've been over it. I was born over it.

Second of all, WORST COMMERCIALS EVER! Here are the only ones which got a thumbs up at my house, where me, my hubby, the in-laws and Doodle watched:

My personal fave:


This one got top honors from almost everyone at my house:


But this one merited rave reviews from Doodle, who clapped, laughed, and said something in ToddlerSpeak which sounded very positive: