woo hoo- 21 again

I used a "real age" calculator to determine my "real age" and life expectancy.

Turns out my age is 21 and I should live to be 88.

Calculate your impending - - or not so impending demise here.

sprechen?

Some highlights from Germanfest

Slides were slid

Bouncy houses were bounced



artistic photos were taken (by E)



and upon our departure, hysterical fits were thrown

let's try this agian

Blogger is being really weird, so I'm going to try and post this again.

I didn't even know we HAD amazonium in the craft box.

K has been very crafty as of late. She created these beauties with no assistance:





from wikipedia: The Amazons produced their bracelets from a magically indestructible metal called Amazonium, found only on Paradise Island. The Amazonium bracelets were useful, as magically indestructible gauntlets they could use to deflect bullets, energy weapons, and all manner of attack.

So she's got that going for her... which is good.

simpsonized

Here's me as a Simpson's character




Simpsonize yourself here

haiku review

holes in plot abound
Umbridge tortures young wizards
cool DA training

webshots

A few people have noticed that my little post is missing from the webshots news channel. (It's nice to know people were actually reading it.)

They changed their format and took out the "what's happening in..." section. I am still writing for them, but now I'm writing the caption for the daily featured picture. Click here to check it out.

No byline, but oh well.

haiku review

culinary rat
Pixar succeeds once again
it made me hungy

belated announcement

Fans of Kari's blog will be happy to hear she welcomed a happy, healthy Lyric to the planet on May 31.


I made a trip out there last month to meet her, hang out with Kar and Kev and get in all the baby cuddling time I could.

This was me the majority of the time:



I love sleeping babies. Awake ones are nice too, but there's something about a warm, deep breathing, swaddled newborn.

On previous visits to SF, Kar and I have found ourselves glassy eyed, and a little fuzzy in the brain at 3 in the morning. This trip was no exception, but this time it was for different reasons. The little bean had her days and nights mixed up a bit.

Kar and I were able to take some walks, do some shopping, and even make fondue. Speaking of shopping, while carrying Lyric along with nursing bras and alternatives to nursing bras back and forth from rack to dressing room, I learned that holding a newborn is an invitation for perfect strangers to stop you, ask questions (date of birth, sex, weight, name rank and serial number), and give unsolicited advice on baby care.

So we're going with "Aunt Kath" for my title. Even though it sounds a bit Aunt Bea, it has an element of Aunt Jenny that we both kind of dig.

Looking forward to their visit in Dec.

Until then Lyric is dealing with the hounding paparazzzi:

on death and dying - a two-year-old's perspective

For the last few days whenever we've passed a graveyard (there are three on the way into my mom's) J points out the window and vehemently declares:

I don't wike dis! I don't wike dis!

I wonder why he would feel that way. He has no idea what a graveyard is. His only exposure to the concept of death is when the cicada he was poking with a stick wouldn't move and I told him it was dead. He proceeded to walk around the park finding carcasses asking "Dis cayda boug dead? Dis cayda boug dead?"

But since the body count didn't go along with tiny headstones, I don't see how he would make the connection.

So I guess my question is, are graveyards just inherently creepy, or is there some other reason for what is essentially a nice grassy park with lots of statues being so "unwikeable?"