sueeeus

One of the things I love best about this beautiful boy is his smile. Once he got past the colic, he has been the happiest child. My sister remarked that he has the smile of a Muppet (and she meant that as a compliment, in the most loving way, because she adores this love bug nephew of hers).…and, I must say, I have to agree…

The love bug wouldn’t hold still, as if that’s a big surprise. Especially with such an interesting thing nearby. He is somewhere between 30 and 31 inches tall, and weighs around 30 lbs as well. I’ll get the real numbers from the professionals next week at his 9-month checkup. No matter what, he’s a big love bug! He’s already wearing size 2T.
That’s more like it!, he’s thinking to himself. I’m certain of it.

Blackbird’s Friday Show and Tell theme is Things that Annoy.

Tailgaters. People who follow too close. Especially when they’re driving obnoxious big pickup trucks. In a school zone. And a construction zone. (Traffic fines are double in school zones. They’re double in construction zones too. I wonder if that means they’re quadrupled in school zones with concurrent construction.) Especially people driving obnoxious big white pickup trucks, who then flash their headlights at me, as I am approaching an intersection, where the light is currently yellow on its way to red. Hello Especially people driving obnoxious big white pickup trucks, flashing their headlights at me, expecting me to run a red light through a school and construction zone, with children on board said truck. Especially people who tailgate me when MY child is on board. Grrrrrrrrr.*

Singers who attempt to convey passion by squeezing their voices through clenched teeth. Posers. It. Does. Not. Work. For instance Photograph, by Nickelback. And pretty much any pop Michael Bolton ever did. Now, he (Bolton) has professional training in opera (I’m pretty sure I read that some time back), and the man can sing if he wants to, but ACCKKK! None of that whiney fakey constipated so-called passion. Chad Kroeger (Nickelback) sings just fine in Why Don’t You & I with Santana, so I know he has it in him. So what is up with Photograph If someone wants to convey passion in their singing scream, then by golly, open wide, throw back the head, and belt it out from the bottom of the belly! (Roger Daltry and Bono are good at this.) Whew, glad I got that one off my chest.

But this is show and tell, so perhaps a picture is in order.
Non-recyclable items in the recycle bin. And I could list a hundred other things with accompanying photographic proof, but alas, it would only serve to portray unbalanced annoyance cool-catward, and I would have to follow up with an equally long list of all that is wonderful about him, to keep the karma straight.

On a more positive note, today my dreamboat is nine months old. And he’s as dreamy as ever. My little love bug.

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*In all fairness, I myself, might have ended up a wee bit close on occasion recently, as I have found myself trying to get a better look at the leaf patterns in trees that catch my eye as I drive by, arrayed in their gorgeous fall foliage. What is that tree, I think to myself, over and over, but can’t quite tell what most of them are. The oaks and the maples are easy, but there are so many that I am now noticing in their fall splendor, and I think to myself, I must have one of these. If only I knew what it was. So, the lady in the grey Volvo sedan with the Baby on Board sign in the rear window apologizes to anyone who she might have gotten a little close to enroute from thereabouts to home.

According to the Jung Typology Test, I am INFJ, the Counselor Idealist.

Introverted Intuitive Feeling Judging
Strength of the preferences %
78 12 38 67

Qualitative analysis:

• very expressed introvert
• slightly expressed intuitive personality
• moderately expressed feeling personality
• distinctively expressed judging personality

I found this link on Dani’s page. I thought I’d been to quite a few places until I looked at this map.

create your own visited countries map

create your own visited states map

I can’t stand it when I publish the blog post and things don’t align properly. It drives me nuts. The preview function isn’t WYSIWYG at all. (Much as I detest acronyms, I first heard this waaaaaaaay back in the college days, in the context of systems theory I think it was …or perhaps I’m recalling SISO, which makes more sense in a systems framework, but I digress… …so I’m going to allow its use in this one post.) Anyway, I republish the stupid post several times and fiddle with this and that until it lines up and my sidebar is always on top. Formatting. Hrumph. Such a waste of time, but I have to do it. I have to. So so particular, is she. Type A, they call it. Or anal, if you’re not being very nice.

The documentary continues.

After work I finally took a shower, and decided to grab a little joi de vie (Suse, French spell check please). My choice of wardrobe would surely land me in snarkywood, were I a celebrity. Fashion faux pas for certain. But oh, so comfy, and I’m going for a walk. Yes, a walk. It’s a good thing I am not a celebrity. I’d be lambasted for my attire for sure. I have until 5 o’clock, which is the latest I can allow myself before I have to leave to pick up my little one.

The street by my house is lined with rocks. When I had dogs, my boy Jet would pee on every rock. He was a champion that way. Oh how I miss my Jet. I was so inspired to be outside, in the fresh air, that I decided to try jogging. Jogging! Alas, it was very short lived. I made it to the end of the street. The double-dees and tree stumps to which my feet are attached bring the fantasy vision of the long legged Masai running effortlessly for miles upon miles through the desert to an abrupt screeching halt of a reality check. It takes me another block to recover from the coughing fit that this moment of idiocy induced. I was so caught up in le joi de vie (Suse, need your help again) that I forgot I was sick.

I noticed that the street-side landscaping behind the fences of the houses one block over is much nicer than what lies behind my fence. Their neighborhood is probably ten years older, and perhaps the developer landscaped Or the city or county had different rules back then The city or county maintains the land behind my fence. I wonder if they maintain the land behind the neighboring block’s fence

The sign, sadly appropriate, is stationed directly behind my house. It is an outrage. An outrage! I wonder if that land is even mine, or if it is easement or city property. Things I should pay attention to when buying houses. That and their proximity to busy (noisy) streets. I arrive home with ten minutes to spare before I must dash off to collect my bundle of joy.

The documentary. More Self-Portrait Tuesday info here.

Mornings are his best time. He is so snuggly and an all around love, my love bug. All smiles and contentment. He’s my little space worm (and longer than I thought). Mornings are too short lived because I have to work and he has to go to daycare.

Do not all office floors have a giant stuffed horse and an exersaucer My office is a cluttered cave. The blinds are closed to reduce glare on my screen, and also, because milk duty renders me topless for a good part of the day.
My desk is no less messy than it was last week. It’s chaos and I don’t like to work in these conditions, but I don’t have the energy or gumption to clean it at present, nor do I have sufficient office space for the overflow. It’s depressing, this cave.
It seems there is no respite from bottle washing.

While washing bottles, I see my lawn of dandelions and thistles beyond the kitchen window. Depressing. But the leaves cheer me up. I love leaves. And fall.

The coffee has made me somewhat loopy today. Perhaps it’s the drum of my head with the sinus congestion. Caffeine normally doesn’t faze ( ) me. My coffee cup is less than perfect. I like bone china but have yet to find the perfect blend of size, shape, color, feel, and volume. This cup has the perfect volume, but nothing else.

Maybe some nice herbal orange tea will help. Lots of it.
I’ve been craving toast with butter and Marmite. So salty and satisfying. I will be glad when the coughing, congestion, and misery is over. Until then, comfort foods like this are most welcome. Who am I kidding They’re welcome all the time.
I am distracted by a ray of sunshine. It lifts my spirits tremendously, and I yearn to be outside in the fresh fall air, cool and crisp. My favorite.

Beyond the blinds there is bamboo, falling leaves, damp grass, and fresh air.

Yes, beyond the blinds there is sunshine and fresh air. But I am stuck within.

One of the conveniences of working from home. Still in my jammies. The other half took the space worm to daycare today, so I haven’t even gotten dressed yet.
Bed head. It’s what I like best about this haircut. It looks the same fresh out of bed as it does when it’s freshly ‘done’. Working from home, I don’t bother with makeup, hygiene, and wardrobe as much as I should.

The thing is, the days tend toward depressing, and I know that I would feel better if I did actually take a shower, get dressed, put on makeup, and fluff up my hair. I’m still stuck in the cave, but it would help.

I made a new sleeping bag for the boy. I made the sleeve and body pattern from one of his sweatshirts, and I made the bottom fold up and over so that it’s like a pillow case. No zippers, buttons, snaps or anything. I made it super long because when we used sleeping bags like these before, when he was new, he hated to have his legs bound. We shall see if this works for him.

Being lazy, and not wanting to do any hemming, I zigzagged over a piece of ribbon for a decorative edge, then snipped the raw edge to make a fringe. All said and done, it took just under an hour to make, start to finish.

The many faces of me. I found a link on Red Current’s page to a facial morph routine that applies various racial, gender, species, artist and age attributes to a baseline photo.
I’ve always wondered what I would look like as an ape-(wo)man. The Botticelli looks very much like my oldest nephew. The drunk looks like I have Downs Syndrome. The masculine looks like it could pass for a brother. The baby looks downright freakish. Run away! It reminds me of one of those Chucky horror movies.