Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Word of the day

Banannibalism: bananas, eating bananas.

In a sentence: "Where did all the bananas go? Must be those banannibalistic bananas again!"

(seriously, my kids eat too many bananas)

On a parenting note: Is it wrong that my six year old knows about cannibalism? And that we made a joke about it? And laughed. A lot?

I'm going to make some very strange people. At least I'll finally have some company.


A bonus of island living.

Our new house: 110 Earl Street

Occupancy date: September-ish
Number of floors: 3
Size of backyard: post-it note;
Distance from school/work/downtown: five minute walk, 2 second sprint, 10 minute messy drunken stagger.
Amount of renovations: I don't want to talk about it; it makes my nose bleed.
Number of tricks I need to turn to pay for renovations: 15,000, give or take (however you like it, baby).
Number of future spontaneous events that will occur: hundreds! millions!
Number of ferries needed to take to get home: ZERO
Number of coffees I've had today: 3
Are we selling our island house? No. Although talk on the street says yes.
Are we OUT OF OUR FREAKING MINDS? Most certainly. Have we met?
Am I pregnant? Hahahahaahaahahaa. ahhhhhh. NO
Will we rent our island place? only to people who can pooh gold bars and play banjos. We also have a preference for people with hermaphraditic pets. Please put the word out!
Do we need furniture? Peshaw: furniture is for babies and communists.
Am I stressed? No, cause all I think about are rainbows and unicorns.

From the street

The backyard: just the way I like it, paved! Lawns are for sissies.

Fabulous Lew

Lew in all his sweetness:

Lew in all his naughtiness:

The puddle visibly shrank as Lew's diaper soaked up the water.

When my kids get thirsty I send them to the "drinking hole."

Caught red-handed helping himself to water melon.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Dreaded transition # 100

When the two year old learns to get our of their crib.

Thus begins the two or three (crap it could eight this time) weeks of 2 hour nightly struggle.

Wish me luck.

And patience.

And a steady supply of post-bedtime alcohol.