Bottle Diva

Regarding yesterday's entry,  the wonderful Kevin wrote in--and rightly so--to question my choice to leave Jaws off of the summer movie hall of fame. The only thing to say in my defense is, though Jaws is pretty much the mother of summer movies (it was the first blockbuster, plus, you know, the setting and such) it transcends categorization. I think of it, simply, of one of the best movies EVER. HR was thisclose to being QR (after Mr. Quint) and that is not even a joke. Jaws is amazing, see Jaws, live Jaws. That is all.

Speaking of baby Quint (OMG Halloween costume idea!), Project Sippy Cup is sort of killing us all. It's crazy how this kid can pound milk from a bottle, but if you put it in a cup, it's an insult. I've read up on it, and it seems this sort of reaction is not unusual. I know it's the comfort factor of the vehicle, and not the liquid itself. He'll drink water from the sippy like he's getting paid to do it. As of right now, he's getting a bottle first thing in the a.m. and last thing before bed, but in between we only offer the cup. I figured by now, three days in, he'd want milk bad enough to get it that way but instead he's just going for more water. And even with that he's totally fine all day long. The dreaded side effect of the big change is that it has totally effed with his sleeping, including the all-important afternoon nap. He's so out of sorts that he won't even go to sleep like he's been doing since he's been trained. And he's waking up more at night, inconsolable. So it's been a challenging few days, I'm not quite sure what to do. We'll get through it. Lucky for him he's such a cute, loving snugglebug the rest of the time.

The other day when Mike was at work, baby and I were having a dance party to "Xanadu," which is obviously a great song for dancing around with a baby/other type of human and it reminded me that ELO is awesome and I should be listening to more ELO. My brother's over there like, "I've only been telling you that for half my life." Anyway. Here's the sunniest song I can think of, for a sunny day and a much-needed sunny outlook. We'll get there! Jeff Lynne told me so!

It Turned Colder, That's Where It Ends...

Here's my personal list of the best summer movies of all time. Some are about summer, or they remind me of summer, or I don't know, I just think of them as summertime movies. Of course they're good any time of year (as evidenced by my inability to not watch them any time I see they're on), but it's really best to watch them later, like in January, for a shot of Vitamin D to the soul.

10) Meatballs - Bill Murray. Canadian accents. The story about the hook-hand murderer. A character named Spaz. The Stomach! I blame this movie with my lifelong obsession with summer camp.

9) Blue Crush - It's always summer in Hawaii. Girl power!

8) Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood - lookee there, I just outed myself as a chick. If you're going to watch one Sandra Bullock movie involving a lake house, make it this one.

7) Point Break - Sex wax! Red Hot Chili Pepper cameos! BODHI!

6) Muriel's Wedding - makes me cry every time. Toni Collette is so awesome.

5) The Goonies - There's nothing particularly summery about this except that it ruled my entire summer the year it came out.

4) Grease - This is neatly bookended by two summers. None of the cast is within a decade of being a teenager and even though they live in California they've all got Brooklyn accents. However. It is a musical, and musicals always get a pass where reality is concerned. Best song: hands down, "Hopelessly Devoted to You."

3) Wet Hot American Summer - It was like this movie was made as a love letter just for me. A true work of genius.

2) Dirty Dancing - "I carried a watermelon?"

1) My all-time favorite summer movie is the original The Parent Trap. While the remake is not without its charms, whenever I'm duped into watching it I can't help but feel sad, and I wonder what makes me saddest: the Natasha Richardson thing, the Lindsay Lohan thing, or the fact that it's not the Hayley Mills version. Occasionally the original is on, and for me it's like winning the lottery. Let's talk about how every plot point is more preposterous than the last: parents divorce when their twins are babies, decide they're OK with each taking one and never seeing the other twin again and acting like she never existed and la-di-da. It's all good. WHAT? Plus, I know she was wearing huge drawers, but how did Susan not feel the back of her dress being removed at the dance? How could anyone give up a hot dish like Maureen O'Hara circa 1961? How is veal parmesan "fancy slop"? How great is it that the housekeeper is named Verbena? How did they pack all those frilly dresses in their camp trunks? How much do I wish I could pull off that pixie haircut? Wouldn't you die for a lake in your backyard you could just hop into? So help me it all works. It is a true cornball fantasy. I've seen it no fewer than 100 times, which is no small feat considering it's about 50 hours long. I'd like to go watch it right now but instead I've got to do life. Just catch it if you can, I highly recommend it.

So we've learned a few things about my tastes here: I'm a child of the 70s/80s; I like musicals; I'm obsessed with surfing, and I've got a thing for the late great Patrick Swayze. (RIP, Johnny/Bodhi. I'll always love you, though not enough to make "She's Like the Wind" my song of the day.) I'll be kicking myself all day about what movies I've left off the list, but here are some honorable mentions: Hairspray, Summer School, the original Friday the 13th, the entire Frankie and Annette oeuvre.



What movies stuff your wild bikinis?

Cotton's High

The best part about tagging along on someone else's vacation is that when it's over, you're not as bummed out because it isn't something you've been putting a lot of thought into. You go, you have fun, it ends, and it's ok. We really did have a great long-long weekend on the Cape with Mike's family. Every year his eldest brother and wife generously open up their end-of-the-summer rental to the whole family, and it's become a tradition that we meet up at some point over the course of the week. This year we stayed three nights, but all four brothers and their families, plus the matriarch (grandpa's in post-surgical rehab) overlapped for a whole day and night, which is a rare occurrence. We went to the beach, sat around and caught up, went out for a nice dinner, all the nice things you do when you're on vacation time. HR was thrilled to hang around his cousins - he's not quite sure about how to interact with the little girl who is four months younger than him, they mostly played side-by-side (babies are so weird), but he does certainly idolize his 10- and 12-year-old big boy cousins and it means a lot to us that he gets to spend this kind of time with them as well as his aunts and uncles and grandma.

For all of the car time (including a whopping 6 hours of driving to and from Connecticut on Saturday - more on this in a bit), HR was not a perfect passenger, but we've come a long way. I was particularly not psyched about the driving because he was a nightmare on the drive down - I now realize that, illustrating yet again how our baby is not like most babies, driving in the day is actually better than nighttime for him because messing with his bedtime routine (we do all the other parts, bath, bottle, etc. but then put him into a carseat instead of a crib) makes him an emotional wreck. But that was the worst of it, and we got it overwith on the relatively short drive from Boston.

Saturday our niece, Mike's youngest brother's little one, turned a year old. That is no mean feat considering she came into the world really, really early (and tried to make her entrance really, REALLY early). None of us take for granted that she's here, let alone how amazingly she's progressed. We would happily have driven twice as far with a screaming baby to be at her celebration on Saturday. Happily it didn't come to that, but it was a great thing to be there and sing and watch her lick the frosting off a comically large cupcake. I think this every day, but don't say it often enough: I'm so lucky to be in these families, the one that has to love me because I share their blood, and the one that has to love me because I married in.

As for the hurricane, we all made it back to our respective homes safely on Saturday (if not ideally - sorry about that Stuart and Michele!). The storm really spared us here, which is awesome. And now we're embarking upon Project: Sippy Cup in our home, which so far is causing less havoc than I had feared. Ask me again when we take away the morning and nighttime bottles.

So I guess I can say that my extended weekend of beachy, lobstery, outdoor-showery goodness serves as the last hurrah of the summer for me. I know we've still got Labor Day and all and it'll be hot until October at the earliest but for me, the mindset is switched over and there's no going back. I'll give you another week of summer songs for the hell of it though.

I Feel My Heart Start to Tremblin'

So the earthquake! It happened. I've felt earthquakes before, I remember a few growing up, so I thought that's what might be happening as I sat with my toes under the dryer at the nail salon. Of course it could have just as easily been a truck passing or the woman next to me jiggling her legs, but I was already surfing on my phone so a quick check of facebook (the first place to get any news, duh) confirmed it. I'm glad it wasn't worse, and I hope those at the epicenter are all doing OK. I know it's so cute the way we're all freaking out here on the East Coast, but we're not exactly quake-ready in these parts.

My boy had one of the most jacked-up nights of sleep in a long time last night, not sure if he's teething or what but I'm thinking that when we get back from the last of our weekend travels I'm going to have to do the dreaded middle-of-the-night cry-it-out to get back on track. I've slipped into some bad habits since our initial vacation (like taking him into bed with us at 3 a.m. instead of making him stay in his crib) and it's not helping any of us in the long run. So not looking forward to it, but it has to be done, and I know HR can handle it. Maybe he'll just get over it on his own and I won't have to do anything, but the odds of that are not in my favor. Parenting yay! Still, it's worth all the non-fun stuff. He said his first real sentence yesterday: "Bye, doo-doo!" I'll let you fill in the details of the back story yourself, but Mike and I are both very proud as you can imagine.

I'm out now for a few days but I'll leave you with a song I've really been into lately - it's got such a mellow summer vibe, and the lyrics make me smile. "Everything hooks, everything works. You're a real good chorus, I'm a real good verse. Freestyle, unrehearsed." Love it.

Time to Light the Lights

I haven't done a list for awhile. So, here's some random stuff that's making me happy.

-Indulging in occasional fits of nostalgia (more on this tomorrow, maybe).

-It's tomato time in the old CSA. I may be as sick of them in a few weeks as I was of beets after a seemingly endless flow, but for now I'm awash in lycopenic ecstasy. 

-Mad Men - I'm soooo late to the party on this one, but now that Netflix is allowing all the episodes to be streamed, I can't get enough. Aesthetically pleasing, satisfying of character and storyline. I'm only one season in, but I get the hype.

-Baby kisses. HR is really into giving kisses at the moment. A little sloppy (fine, a LOT sloppy), but enthusiastic and totally awesome.

-Spur-of-the-moment pedicures. Let's just say I could use one, and if all goes well I'll be able to fit one into my lunch break, just to see me through the final weeks of sandal weather.

-Short workweeks, particularly ones that lead into beach time and fun with family and maybe a lobster roll.

THIS:

Dual Citizenship

This past weekend was spent up in the land of my birth so I could attend my soon-to-be-sister-in-law's bridal shower. It's always so nice to be there because I have great memories of growing up, and my parents always snap back into the "taking care of the kids" mode whenever we're home, so even though we're usually there because of some kind of occasion and we spend a lot of time working on this or that, it's relaxing like nothing else. Plus Maine is so beautiful, it will always be home in my heart. Sometimes it makes me just plain sad to go back and see the changes to the place, how much has changed (and not for the better) as it becomes another once-bustling industry town on its last legs. But there are glimmers of hope there, new businesses that seem to be thriving, an actual population of people under 60. I could see how someone starting out could make a life there. But even with the charms and comforts of rural living (not to mention the real estate prices), I'm always happy to flee back to my real adult home in the dirty, crowded, wonderful city. Since I was a kid I felt destined to get out. It's just nice to have the option to go back when I want to. I wonder how HR will feel about his environment when he looks back on his own childhood.

We hit some nightmare standstill traffic that tacked more than an hour onto our return trip (I guess I don't usually go south on Sundays in the summer - it was a true shock) but it was worth it to have the time visiting with loved ones and get a jump on celebrating the upcoming marriage. Oh, and the food. I've had some ridiculously good culinary experiences in my life, but I never eat like I do when I'm home. My wee chowhound definitely comes by it honestly. About the boy, his rash cleared up within a day of switching meds, much to our relief, so it looks like we're dealing with a common penicillin allergy. And I don't want to jinx anything, but with his newfound mobility he seems to have also grown out of that pesky attachment phase. It was thrilling to pat him on his butt and see him off with Mammy and Pepere and Gram and Auntie and all the ladies fawning over him at the shower and know he wasn't going to be whining for me in 30 seconds. He was even pretty good on the car trips (compared to his usual standards). He needed constant entertaining, but I wasn't talking him down from a screaming tantrum the entire drive, which was nice. And though his sleeping is not perfect (will it ever be?), it's back to being consistently good, which is enough for me, especially since we're asking a lot of him lately with all the traveling and such. In all, he's reached a really fun, delicious stage as we coast toward the 16-month mark.

I have lots to do in this three-day workweek (going to visit in-laws down the Cape - tough life!) so I'd better get back to it. Ooh, here's a good one:

New Adventures in Parenting, Or, The Rash That Ate My Baby

So Mike noticed a gnarly rash creeping up on HR's thighs and chest yesterday, so we decided to keep an eye on it and re-assess in the morning. Cut to: the morning, where we find him covered in small pink welts from bow to stern. Two lucky things: he doesn't appear to feel itchy, and he hasn't yet had a fever. But we brought him to the pediatrician, the third visit in a week. Did I mention that our boy is not a fan of the doctor for some reason? If anyone wearing a stethoscope so much as glances in his direction, we're treated to a master class in histronics. So it was a fun morning.

The doctor thinks it's either a reaction to the antibiotics he's been taking, or else the good old Coxsackie (aka hand, foot & mouth) virus. He's been switched to a different type of medication, so we'll see if that makes any difference. It sucks to be left in limbo and be on edge at all times waiting to see if it worsens, if his temp spikes, if he starts acting out of sorts. But since Mike was assured that it's not a flesh-eating virus and the little boy is as happy as can be (when not in the doctor's office, that is), I think we'll manage. No telling yet how our weekend plans will be affected, but we can deal with whatever happens. Once again, though, I marvel at people's ability to function when they have really sick kids. Here's hoping that's one challenge to which we'll never have to rise.

About The Notebook, briefly, which I watched last night as if it were a new movie: I liked it OK. I like Ryan Gosling more than OK. But even though I had an inkling about the non-Gosling subject matter, I feel like maybe someone who knows me and knows that the elderly are my kryptonite should have told me to skip it and just re-watch, like, Half-Nelson. Then again who am I kidding with that, it just would have made me twice as determined to see it. Don't tell, but I think deep down I might be something of a masochist.

Any-way. Here's a song for the kind of summer night I don't much have any more, the kind where you drink something clear and cold and strong and crank up the volume and dance around like crazy with your friends. Or alone. It's all good.

I Do Take Credit For Half the Cuteness

Today just got away from me, it's unlikely there will be an actual entry. So... here's a picture of a baby with a duck on his head.

That's pretty much better than anything I could write anyway.

Gone Straight To My Head

Beginning in my late teens, the focal point of my room decor was what my parents referred to as my "Wall of Men." This term is not quite accurate. While it's true that majority of images on the ever-expanding collage I tacked up over my bed comprised men I thought were hot at the time (I'm sure Eddie Vedder was on there, I think Grant Hill? Who else?), there were also several women (I remember I had a picture of Marlene Deitrich of whom I wasn't really familiar, I just thought the picture was stunning. Audrey Hepburn and Halle Berry also made the cut). So though it may have started out as my adolescent lust-vision-board, it became more of a representation of myself at the time, through people and other things that made me happy. I took it with me when I went to college, and kept adding to it, breaking it apart and lovingly re-assembling it in each new dorm room or apartment. I finally gave it up when I moved in with Mike-- it's not like I stopped being attracted to or inspired by other people when I joined up with him, it's just that our cohabitation coincided with me outgrowing the poster-on-the-wall phase of my life.

Anyway, I haven't thought about "The Wall" in years, but for some reason it popped into my mind the other day and I wondered who I'd be slapping on there at this time of my life. Would it bear any resemblance to the wall of old? Likely not, though I'd love to have access to the old one for comparison's sake, just to get a visual representation of my former self. It's possible I kept all the pieces in an envelope for awhile for nostalgic purposes, but I'm pretty sure that it's long gone. I think I do actually have a photograph of it from my dorm room on year, but I doubt I'd be able to make out much of it. It's just funny how things or people can mean so much to you at one point in your life, and then a decade out you're completely baffled by your old self. Right? If I do find the photograph I'll scan it in, even though I can guarantee the results will be embarrassing.

Tune time: I'm hesitant to classify Def Leppard as "hair metal"--it seems an insult to lump them with the White Lions and Trixters of the genre--but this song is so great and it sort of fits thematically and summer-wise, well, as everyone knows, hair metal is for summer. So here ya go.

I'm Walkin' Here

It's official: we've got ourselves a walking boy. Just as we were cautioned, once he got started in earnest, he had no desire to stop, and all that timidity he was exhibiting went out the window. Bless you, Mr.-or-Miss-inventor-of-baby-gates. It's pretty dang amazing to witness, and even though I realize how quickly it became normal to me, I can't imagine tiring of watching him do that drunken lurch on fat gorgeous baby legs. Every milestone has been the best ever, but this really is the best one. Until the next one. But for now, awesome.

Other than that we've been keeping it low key, watching for symptoms, but Mike and I are both managing to be upbeat and not dwell on anything that might happen. So far, so good.

**Parting thoughts on the finale and all of Season 8 of SYTYCD:

-YAY Melanie!

-The Jess/Nick/that other guy tap routine - one of the standouts of the entire series. Nick, you shouldn't have been cut so early!

-Sonya Tayeh, I believe, is the real winner this year. She did some outstanding work, even though I think it was a bit of an overly contemporary-jazz heavy year on the show. It's hard to believe back when she made her splash with Mark and Courtney's incredible "The Garden" routine that she'd become the show's go-to choreographer. What a cool thing to watch her career evolve. Also, it's so weird to be saying this, but I'm starting to come around to Tyce Diorio. I think he's just been barking up the wrong tree, style-wise, and now that he's getting fewer Broadway routines he's grown. Loved his top 8 number with the circus theme, and that Sasha-and-Kent wall dealie might have been his best ever (I'm just going to come out and say I found his cancer dance from years back overrated - it was gorgeously danced, but I don't appreciate being manipulated like that).

-This season felt weird and uneven to me, probably my least favorite so far. There didn't seem to be a ton of memorable dances, I was not a fan of the guest judge format for the most part (I know you have to get viewers in however you can but most of those appearances were supersuck - if I never hear the word "Pussycat Dolls" ever again I'll be thrilled) and we were seriously lacking in Dave Scott, Wade Robson, Mia "You're so gorgeous I just want to stab you in the head" Michaels and Debbie "Honey, call the fire department" Allen. Oh, and Adam Shankman, who seems like such a dear person, I wish I knew him in real life. I'll probably never be over Shane Sparks, but there's not much anyone can do about that. I loved the dancers this season, a lot of solid work and promising talent, but overall the conclusion left me quite MEH. At the end of the day any SYTYCD is better to me than none, but I'm already looking forward to something a little more next year. Oh, and Cat Deely for President!**

My obvious--but obviously genius--summer song pick of the day:

Can't Wipe It Off My Hands, Write It In the Sand

Both Mike and HR are on antibiotics, and though their respective doctors believe they were most likely exposed to the dreaded Lyme disease, neither seem to believe it's a reason to freak out. So in reality I could be living with up to two lymies right now and while that is not a thought that makes me feel warm and cozy, it seems pointless to get too het up about it. At this point it's wait, watch, take the meds and hope for the best. Ah nature you son of a bitch.

**So You Think You Can read an entry where I don't talk about the show? Not bloody likely, not for a week at least. Thoughts on the finale? I am not a negative person by any means, I had to stop reading Television Without Pity forums because people were too mean and jerky about everything all the time, but I have to say that as finales go this one was underwhelming. Nothing blew my doors off or even made me want to watch it a second time. Hm. Not that the dancers aren't all still ridiculously talented, there was just no magic or wow factor of which I know they are more than capable. Oh well, maybe I've just set my standards too high. It's really the show's fault for everyone usually being so good. The results show tonight is guaranteed to make me happy because they'll trot out the best routines from the season like "Misty Blue" and the statues one. And some other great ones I'll be surprised to see because I'll have forgotten about them. And I'll try not to think of the downside of the finale, which is that the show won't be back until next May. It's a long long wait, but so worth it. OK then.**

This is more of a summer's ending type song, but I heard it on my drive into work and Bill Janowitz is a sweetie and a huge Red Sox fan and Buffalo Tom is awesome so why wait to post it? Exactly.

Bitten

Just when we thought we got out of our wilderness vacation unscathed... we found what we're pretty sure is a deer tick on Mike yesterday, and the baby has a bite on his ankle that looks all kinds of weird. So they're both getting checked out, just to be safe. What happened to good old mosquito bites and poison ivy? Not that I like those, but I at least know how to deal with them. Here's hoping we're just being overly cautious.

This morning I ran for the first time since before vacation, and it went surprisingly well, but then again it's usually the second run back that gets me. We'll see. For some reason I find that the fourth song that comes up in my playlist can make or break the overall success of my workout. I used to run without any music at all, I had this thing about being in the zone and it was all a big mental challenge for me, but when I was gifted with an iPod shuffle I realized the whole "zone" thing was my way of making up for the lack of a musical device. Anyway, there's something about that fourth song that can get me pumped or slow me down and today "Hypnotize" came on (I've gone on record with my feelings about the Notorious B.I.G. many a time here) and though it's not the fastest paced song, those first "Uh, UH!"s came on and I was on fire for the rest of the run. It's good to be back into it, my body already feels happier.

**HUGE SYTYCD section** - cozy down or get lost, because this is gonna be a long one. As I live and breathe, the season finale starts tonight and I can hardly believe it. I'm so excited I could pee! And as for the Top 4, I have to say I approve. I don't think Tadd should win, even though I'm quite enamored with him (and he was extra hot with Melanie in the broadway routine), but his body of work isn't the strongest among the four. Other than that, though I am rooting for the unbelievable Miss Melanie, I'd be just as happy with a Sasha or Marko victory. More about the current season tomorrow and the next tomorrow, I'm sure.

Now let's talk about some of the All-Stars - my very favorite winner, Season 4's Joshua, will be on tonight. Josh-bear, where have you been? I'd link my favorite dance of his, but I don't have one. He was magic in everything - nothing he couldn't do. I can't wait to see what the pairing will be.

That said about Joshua, I would like to take a moment to go public with my enduring devotion to Season 3's Neil Haskell. Good god Neil. I liked him OK in his season, it was the first one I got to see all the way through and I appreciated his athleticism and eye-candy factor (and I don't go for the pretty boys usually, so that's a thing) but he wasn't my favorite (to be fair, this was the year of Danny Tidwell). Something happened along the way though and now I can't get enough of the guy. He turned into a man as so many do after the competition, and I guess you can say I'm a bit obsessed. I have the All-Star program to thank for that since we see him a lot. Honestly though, go here and tell me you don't want your own personal Neil. If I were a choreographer, he'd most certainly be my muse. And that's enough about that outta me.

Anyway, I'm dorkily counting the hours to tonight's show (8), hoping my insect-violated menfolk are OK and looking for a breath mint because that garlic lover's hummus I just ate is no joke. In honor of last summer's winner, Lauren Froderman (who I sort of want to be) and one of the BEST routines ever performed on the show, here's some Ludacris and Nicki-Nik. Stay in the pocket, y'all!

It's Just Sea Mist in My Eyes

Yesterday I said I had a lot of stories and a lot of pictures from my vacation to put into today's entry.  Then I realized that 1) though I am a well-intentioned photographer, I'm bad at actually getting out the camera and using it, so I'm missing pictures of many family members and of basically anything that isn't HR and 2) when you go to the same place every year with the same people and do pretty much the same thing every day, there isn't much to tell. Sure the people come and go in different combinations and the jokes and themes and memories change, but overall, it's beach/family/games/beach/food/cocktail hour/campfire/family/beach/stars ad nauseam. And that's my kind of sickness, baby.

This year was different for me because everything is different with a toddler. For one, he reverted to the default state when he's out of his element: extreme clinginess, specifically to me. Even when Mike was right there, he didn't want to leave my side. It didn't make for the most relaxing time ever, but we worked with it. His sleeping got all kinds of wrecked and we resorted to rocking him to sleep every night and more nights than not he ended up sleeping with us when we went to bed. We're making great strides to correct this already, but let's just say the unfamiliar surroundings did not add up to ideal bedtime conditions for any of us. We probably also hindered his walking progress because a lot of times the ground wasn't quite even and there was nothing reliable for him to pull up on so that was almost two weeks of natural practice he didn't get.

But it was so worth it to me because when, in the span of about 12 days, do most people have the chance to see just about every member of their extended family? Both my grandmothers were represented, and my parents, and my aunts and uncles and cousins and their kids (who I swore I just cradled as newborns and are about to go to middle school or college or, in one case, become parents themselves) and it was a beautiful thing when HR let his guard down and they were able to fawn all over him and get a real opportunity to know him. I look forward to this being a part of his growing up, as it was mine. When I was a kid we only went for one week, and I feel inextricably linked to my family as a result of this intensive time spent together. It can be a lot, particularly on those who weren't born to it, but lucky for me Mike's a good sport and I know that, as long as it's not pouring, he actually enjoys himself.

The weather was mostly gorgeous this year, and we spent a lot of time on the beach, which helped my little city kid unleash his inner dirtball.

He was cuddled within an inch of his life and even enjoyed it sometimes.

He got to fall sleep to the sound of the waves instead of cars and sirens and the neighbors' dog.

Having camped so many times being only responsible for me, this year was tough on me at times, and surely confusing and uncomfortable for him. But I will never look back on it with regret.

It seemed to me that he learned so much in the short time, from how to do a killer elephant imitation to how to blow kisses to how to be patient (as much as a 15-month-old can grasp such a thing). That's due to my sister's influence, mostly, but it felt like he did so much growing up right before my eyes. It's like that every day with a toddler, I guess, but it's important for me to note that for posterity. 12 days can be a long time in a little one's life.

As much as I miss the ocean air and the exploding night sky, I'm happy to be home and settled into our routine once again. But a big thank-you my family for a magical couple of weeks. I miss you all so much, and can't wait to see what next year brings.

Camped Out

I have returned! Mountains of laundry have been done (though not quite put away), sleep training 2.0 is underway (and just as fun a the first time), my liver is about to get a good long rest, and I seem to be over the worst of my post-vacation blues. It's almost as if the past two weeks didn't happen, but happen they did, and in a wonderful way. All in all our vacation was a glorious time. I've got lots of stories to tell and pictures to post but alas that must wait until my workaday life is put back into proper order.

As far as I'm concerned, it can be fall now. OK, not quite yet, there's still plenty of good summery stuff on the horizon. But I've turned that unmistakeable corner where the big thing I've been awaiting has passed and now it's on to the next thing.

Here's a bittersweet cusp-of-a-season-shift little tune for your Monday. And it's good to be back! Mostly. Stay tuned for the good stuff.