Or really just walks. But still. As Buzz and Neil can attest, all that matters is that first, single step.
Revel in the sheer cuteness of my nephew Aidan as he entertains himself enormously by standing up, sitting down and clapping for himself. I hope he's always so proud of his accomplishments. However, I hope, in the future, that he's wearing pants for said accomplishments.
If you, for some bizarre reason that I don't understand at all, don't want to watch five whole minutes of this (and my sister's baby voice), the money shot is at 3:07.
Other things to note:
- That face Aidan makes when he laughs? The nose scrunch? That is purely my sister's face when she laughs. Whenever he does it, I get that funny little hitch in my chest.
- He can only suck his thumb when he's got Blue, that blue stuffed dog of his. The best is when he simultaneously draws Blue to his chest with one hand and his thumb into his mouth at the exact same time. Score another point for Pavlov.
- I mean, really. My sisters breed giant children. Also I am opposed to the Donald Trump hairstyle he's been sporting but he's not my baby so I have no say.
- Isn't he cute? You can't have him, he's mine.
July 10, 2008
July 9, 2008
Is This It?
OMG, Petunia Face tagged me like a month ago and I've been in the black hole of moving. Better late than never right? Right??
I've never done a blog tag before. Forgive me my ignorance, the absence here of sure footing.
1. What did you do 10 years ago?
Grimace. Ten years ago, I was somehow surviving the summer between junior and senior year of high school. I imagine there was a lot of letter writing to my best friend Kate, who lived far far away in Boston. We had just moved, again, this time to the sweet little condo in Amityville. We would move one more time before I graduated from school, three doors down from No. 8 to No. 11. I'm pretty sure if I were 16, I was doing a lot of writing, a lot of sulking, a lot of SNL watching, a lot of daydreaming about college and leaving NY. I was quite the lonely teenager. So far this game is very depressing.
2. Five items on your to-do list today
Hmmm. Send Mandy a birthday card. Online marketing for Culture Clique. I have a super gnarly presentation at 2 (LA time). Later will be "So You Think You Can Dance" with Mark and the kids. Buy wine. Life is so much better at 26 than it was at 16.
3. Snacks I enjoy
Pink lady apples and yogurt covered pretzels.
4. What would you do if you were a billionaire?
I would write. Write, write, write. I'd buy a massive farmhouse in Connecticut and a little cottage in the English countryside. I'd have dinner tonight in Paris and then stay the rest of the week, practicing French with my tutor. I'd adopt a slew of sheepdogs, the big shaggy ones like Nana in Peter Pan. I'd commission Zac Posen to design me a line of dresses in size 10 only. Buy my parents a villa in Italy. Buy my oldest sister, a social worker/single mom, the house of her dreams. Buy my niece a princess. Buy my nephew a pony. Make my second oldest sister take care of said pony. Then buy her the entire Banana Republic Summer Collection. Oh, and pay off Kate's med school bills. And buy Mandy a store. And Vic a pirate ship. And Trendz a dinosaur from Jurassic Park. God, there's so much to do.
5. Places I would live
Connecticut, the English countryside, Italy (anywhere in Italy), Savannah, Austin, Nashville and Seattle. And maybe a lighthouse in Maine.
6. Bloggers I am passing the challenge on to are:
Sumeba Miyako- Cause she lives in a tropical island in Japan and I don't.
I've never done a blog tag before. Forgive me my ignorance, the absence here of sure footing.
1. What did you do 10 years ago?
Grimace. Ten years ago, I was somehow surviving the summer between junior and senior year of high school. I imagine there was a lot of letter writing to my best friend Kate, who lived far far away in Boston. We had just moved, again, this time to the sweet little condo in Amityville. We would move one more time before I graduated from school, three doors down from No. 8 to No. 11. I'm pretty sure if I were 16, I was doing a lot of writing, a lot of sulking, a lot of SNL watching, a lot of daydreaming about college and leaving NY. I was quite the lonely teenager. So far this game is very depressing.
2. Five items on your to-do list today
Hmmm. Send Mandy a birthday card. Online marketing for Culture Clique. I have a super gnarly presentation at 2 (LA time). Later will be "So You Think You Can Dance" with Mark and the kids. Buy wine. Life is so much better at 26 than it was at 16.
3. Snacks I enjoy
Pink lady apples and yogurt covered pretzels.
4. What would you do if you were a billionaire?
I would write. Write, write, write. I'd buy a massive farmhouse in Connecticut and a little cottage in the English countryside. I'd have dinner tonight in Paris and then stay the rest of the week, practicing French with my tutor. I'd adopt a slew of sheepdogs, the big shaggy ones like Nana in Peter Pan. I'd commission Zac Posen to design me a line of dresses in size 10 only. Buy my parents a villa in Italy. Buy my oldest sister, a social worker/single mom, the house of her dreams. Buy my niece a princess. Buy my nephew a pony. Make my second oldest sister take care of said pony. Then buy her the entire Banana Republic Summer Collection. Oh, and pay off Kate's med school bills. And buy Mandy a store. And Vic a pirate ship. And Trendz a dinosaur from Jurassic Park. God, there's so much to do.
5. Places I would live
Connecticut, the English countryside, Italy (anywhere in Italy), Savannah, Austin, Nashville and Seattle. And maybe a lighthouse in Maine.
6. Bloggers I am passing the challenge on to are:
Sumeba Miyako- Cause she lives in a tropical island in Japan and I don't.
July 7, 2008
Lesson #1 about Working From Home
Wearing a tube top and taking a video conference call makes you look naked. So there's one of my real life nightmares basically come to life.
Just thought you should all know.
Just thought you should all know.
June 30, 2008
Update
Lord. Ok.
I no longer live in Los Angeles. Why is moving so exhausting and how does it take over your life completely for a month? Suffice it to say, I have mucho to say about the experience.
But right now, I'm just going to take a minute and update my profile to say Chicago. I'm going to relish the small, sweet, simple change in a few letters and thus the greater change my life has taken recently.
Until tomorrow...
I no longer live in Los Angeles. Why is moving so exhausting and how does it take over your life completely for a month? Suffice it to say, I have mucho to say about the experience.
But right now, I'm just going to take a minute and update my profile to say Chicago. I'm going to relish the small, sweet, simple change in a few letters and thus the greater change my life has taken recently.
Until tomorrow...
May 29, 2008
#12
What I'll Miss About LA- 12 Things with 12 Days to Go...
#12- My Youth
How maudlin is that? It's true though. As we speak, the Tree House is being packed up (well, not by me as clearly I'm typing). It seems to be resisting the whole process, if I were to be honest about it. There is no way Vic and I have accumulated so much junk in four years. I swear, the apartment itself is letting us know its displeasure by spitting out old papers and knick-knacks and Mardi Gras beads and bobby pins from INSIDE THE WALLS. That has to be it.
Vic is slowly moving her things into her new apartment across the alley. She's already turned her back on pretty much all of our furniture for pretty new things. She's actually paid full-price for a couch that's never been used. I don't think she's paid full price for a new object EVER.
So her pretty new apartment is being filled with pretty, new, adult-grownedup things. And I'm doing my damnedest to get it all back to Goodwill (time to go home now) or sold for profit which is looking unlikely. I have pretty much the same plan for my Chicago apartment. Mainly furniture that doesn't make my mother cry in the rental car on her way back to the hotel.
This means that the Tree House is in pieces. The other night, Vic and I packed in our matching sailor hats. I mean, if that doesn't say it all- I don't know what does. Here we are, picking out things from Crate & Barrel, all the while musing to each other, "Do you want the sombrero?" (No.) "What about the Roswell white board?" (Yes.) "Is this my signed Soul Decision CD or yours?" (It was hers. Dammit) "Why do we have two copies of The Cutting Edge?" (Please. I know why.) "Remember when Habs threw up in the bathtub?" (I missed that, thankfully.)
And just to drive the point home, today I went to the dry cleaners. The DRY CLEANERS, people. It's been so long that when I laid out all of my DCO clothes, I found a bra that had gone missing last October. When these clothes are clean, I will have doubled my wardrobe. All the while I kept thinking about that old Mitch Hedberg joke: "This shirt is 'dry-clean only'...which means it's dirty." Which made me chuckle to myself. And made me feel better that at least if I'm becoming an adult, I'm an adult who still thinks nothing can't be cured with a Mitch Hedberg line.
#12- My Youth
How maudlin is that? It's true though. As we speak, the Tree House is being packed up (well, not by me as clearly I'm typing). It seems to be resisting the whole process, if I were to be honest about it. There is no way Vic and I have accumulated so much junk in four years. I swear, the apartment itself is letting us know its displeasure by spitting out old papers and knick-knacks and Mardi Gras beads and bobby pins from INSIDE THE WALLS. That has to be it.
Vic is slowly moving her things into her new apartment across the alley. She's already turned her back on pretty much all of our furniture for pretty new things. She's actually paid full-price for a couch that's never been used. I don't think she's paid full price for a new object EVER.
So her pretty new apartment is being filled with pretty, new, adult-grownedup things. And I'm doing my damnedest to get it all back to Goodwill (time to go home now) or sold for profit which is looking unlikely. I have pretty much the same plan for my Chicago apartment. Mainly furniture that doesn't make my mother cry in the rental car on her way back to the hotel.
This means that the Tree House is in pieces. The other night, Vic and I packed in our matching sailor hats. I mean, if that doesn't say it all- I don't know what does. Here we are, picking out things from Crate & Barrel, all the while musing to each other, "Do you want the sombrero?" (No.) "What about the Roswell white board?" (Yes.) "Is this my signed Soul Decision CD or yours?" (It was hers. Dammit) "Why do we have two copies of The Cutting Edge?" (Please. I know why.) "Remember when Habs threw up in the bathtub?" (I missed that, thankfully.)
And just to drive the point home, today I went to the dry cleaners. The DRY CLEANERS, people. It's been so long that when I laid out all of my DCO clothes, I found a bra that had gone missing last October. When these clothes are clean, I will have doubled my wardrobe. All the while I kept thinking about that old Mitch Hedberg joke: "This shirt is 'dry-clean only'...which means it's dirty." Which made me chuckle to myself. And made me feel better that at least if I'm becoming an adult, I'm an adult who still thinks nothing can't be cured with a Mitch Hedberg line.
May 21, 2008
Moving Update
Boxes mailed to Liz: 13
Offers on bed: 3 (1 is possibly a money laundering scam and doesn't count)
Offer on car: 1 and since rescinded (this is devastating. I need to sell it NOW! What do I do?!)
Drives down Sunset Blvd: 1 (possibly the last time. I remember when we moved here four years ago. Sunset Blvd was magic to us. Like "living in adult playland" as Vic used to say.)
Moments of "Omigod, I cannot believe I saved this for four years- what is WRONG with me?!": Oh, thousands. The best has to be the friggin' HAMMOCK I bought for $30 when I started my job even though I don't have a backyard or conceive having one for at least five more years. I mean, really.
Offers on bed: 3 (1 is possibly a money laundering scam and doesn't count)
Offer on car: 1 and since rescinded (this is devastating. I need to sell it NOW! What do I do?!)
Drives down Sunset Blvd: 1 (possibly the last time. I remember when we moved here four years ago. Sunset Blvd was magic to us. Like "living in adult playland" as Vic used to say.)
Moments of "Omigod, I cannot believe I saved this for four years- what is WRONG with me?!": Oh, thousands. The best has to be the friggin' HAMMOCK I bought for $30 when I started my job even though I don't have a backyard or conceive having one for at least five more years. I mean, really.
May 19, 2008
Dear E!
You and I are done.
First, there's this.
I mean, really. I go away for a few months and look what happens. No one cares about this woman, E! No one except maybe her kids. MAYBE.
But then there was this. This has really done it. You cannot be serious.
You know how I feel about Denise Richards, E!, don't pretend like you don't. You heard me every single time I swore at the television when a story about her and Richie Sambora popped up, every time I flipped through the TiVo guide and saw Starship Troopers playing. Even Drop-Dread Gorgeous, which I adore, is home to her vacant stares and flat line-reading.
I have news for you, E! When even your pubescent little brother has the wherewithal to tear his eyes away from this seriously beautiful girl and declare that she is the worst actress in the history of mankind and is so bad that she's RUINED his beloved James Bond movie.... dude. That is some seriously bad acting. She cannot even look directly into the camera for this photo. Does she have a lazy eye? Omg, is she blind, E!? Because I have to admit, if it came out all of a sudden that Denise Richards is stone-cold blind and has been fooling the public for over a decade, well then, that is pretty damn cool and maybe worthy of a pause from yours truly.
Because that would bring it to the level of THIS.
So yeah. Until Sonora Webster gets her own reality show, consider you and I finito but good.
Sincerely,
Me
First, there's this.
I mean, really. I go away for a few months and look what happens. No one cares about this woman, E! No one except maybe her kids. MAYBE.
But then there was this. This has really done it. You cannot be serious.
You know how I feel about Denise Richards, E!, don't pretend like you don't. You heard me every single time I swore at the television when a story about her and Richie Sambora popped up, every time I flipped through the TiVo guide and saw Starship Troopers playing. Even Drop-Dread Gorgeous, which I adore, is home to her vacant stares and flat line-reading.
I have news for you, E! When even your pubescent little brother has the wherewithal to tear his eyes away from this seriously beautiful girl and declare that she is the worst actress in the history of mankind and is so bad that she's RUINED his beloved James Bond movie.... dude. That is some seriously bad acting. She cannot even look directly into the camera for this photo. Does she have a lazy eye? Omg, is she blind, E!? Because I have to admit, if it came out all of a sudden that Denise Richards is stone-cold blind and has been fooling the public for over a decade, well then, that is pretty damn cool and maybe worthy of a pause from yours truly.
Because that would bring it to the level of THIS.
So yeah. Until Sonora Webster gets her own reality show, consider you and I finito but good.
Sincerely,
Me
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)