Can you even imagine a better scenario for Dog while we’re away from home? I mean, my GOD. Seriously. I am so thankful for Valria and her amazing generosity and the clearly superior lifestyle she has provided for Dog, goddamn.

In other news, I have almost no news, really. Things have been enjoyable and mild and the hours are just flying by, and it’s apparent to me that I am about a thousand million times happier with other people around while staying at home with the boys. I mean, that’s sort of a no-shitter, and yet it’s been a surprise, this visit, how entirely pleasant it’s been. Except for the tines-up utensils in the dishwasher, which ARE YOU KIDDING COME ON DO YOU WANT TO FUCKING STAB YOUR HAND-MEAT OR WHAT.

I miss talking to you and I miss hearing from you. So can we play a game, just so I have an excuse to hear from you: tell me, who are your all-time top movie crushes?

Here are mine:

• Ed Harris, as his character in The Abyss (the ring-being-caught-in-the-door scene in that movie is the very reason JB has a titanium wedding ring)
• Johnny Depp, especially in the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie
• Nicolas Cage in Wild At Heart

Your turn!

Dylan didn’t wake me up until 4:45 yesterday morning and after a brief and productive milk-bonging session I was lying back in bed thinking how grateful I am that we’re slowly moving past the uber-awful No Sleep Til Brooklyn (Note: There Is No Fucking Brooklyn) Stage when Riley started crying next door. “Ah-heh, ah-heh, ah-hehhhhhhh,” he whimpered, and I lay there fervently praying he would go back to sleep or maybe be quieted by a (painless!) falling anvil or something but no, he kept at it until I finally got up and stumbled into his room.

“I want get UP,” he immediately announced, and ignored my passionate whispered sermon on the subject of staying in bed and why we don’t exit the bed when it’s still dark outside (for the love of CHRIST), eventually trumping me completely by piteously declaring that he was HONGRY, Mommy. So we got up, my pajama-clad boy and I, at the horrific hour of 5:30 AM, and went out to the kitchen where I fed him a waffle and sat slumped at the table while he peppered me with questions: “Mommy TIRED? Mommy makea COFFEE? Daddy inna AIRPLANE? Where GRANDPA? Where GAMMIE?”

After about an hour of trying to surreptitiously pass out on the living room couch while Riley continually peeled back my eyelids and shouted “WAKE UP MOMMY!” into my nasal cavities, JB’s dad emerged and told me to go back to bed. Which I did, at which point Dylan, who had been sleeping blissfully, instantly started grousing and scritching around. So I got back up and staggered back out with the baby and my in-laws, bless their souls, told me they’d take him too and to go ahead and get some more sleep, so I went back to bed again and just as I was starting to drift off I noticed there was a big-ass fucking SPIDER on the ceiling.

I looked at it and weighed my arachnophobia against my desire for sleep and I decided screw it, I was too tired, and surely it wasn’t going anywhere, and I kept closing my eyes and opening them again to check on the spider and finally I started zonking out for real and then I heard a tiny, tiny noise, like a barely perceptible thud and I opened my eyes again and the spider was gone.

Where had it fallen? Was it on the bed somewhere? And the question that could not be ignored: how long before it crawled between my open lips and set up camp in my mouth oh my GOD.

So I got up. For good. Because apparently there are just some mornings when 4:45 is the best you can do.

:::

In other news, I am kind of loving Flickr’s new video function:

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