All I'm Saying there's a joke in here somewhere

We just got back from "vacation," so sorry for the lack of updates recently. We took four days to go to Matt's annual game warden confab, which was held in Lava Hot Springs, ID this year.

I should title this post, "Two Nights in a Pestilential Hell Hole (and One Considerably Better Night)," but that seemed unwieldy. The Hell Hole was The Lava Hot Springs Inn, which looks so cute and respectable on the internet. What they don't tell you is that the rooms do not have air conditioning, and the walls are so paper thin that you can hear every bed-time fart from every vacationing Mormon in a 100 mile radius. And then there were the trains just outside the window. And the insects crawling all over the rooms--we identified spiders, flies and were unable to ID the crawly thing that didn't have wings, but sure could move fast. I can say one good thing: they served the tastiest pancakes I've ever hard. Over all, though, it was absolutely awful.

After the meeting wrapped up on Sunday, we grabbed our gear and headed across the state line to Wyoming, where we stayed at The Wolf's Den Inn in Thayne, Wyoming. It was very nice! And there were buffalo! In fact, I got a close-up look at a bull bison's wedding tackle. I really wished I'd had the camera so I could share the moment with you all. Since I did not, here's the best I could do:

Freya is howling because she is exhausted, so I need to wrap this up. She did great on her first trip--Mommy didn't do so well, but that's another story for another time.

An old room-mate of mine sent me an e-mail the other day that really pissed me off. First of all, she sent it just assuming that I had some kind of conservative leaning. I'm not really sure where she gets that, since we knew each other for a long time before drifting apart over the last few years. But evidently she thought there were a few things I needed to know about Cindy Sheehan. For example, and I quote directly from the e-mail:

The grinning idiot clinging to Je$$e Jack$on is Cindy Sheehan... the sob sister protesting the war at Bush's ranch, who lost her son in the war, the same son she gave up in her divorce when he was 7 years old."

"Sadly, it's the grave of Casey Sheehan. After two years, and a DoD
payment of $250,000 to the "Peace Mom", Cindy Sheehan has not had the time or bothered to have a headstone placed on this young hero's grave. And, she doesn't even have to pay for one, the DoD will provide one..."

Now, I really don't have any truck with Cindy Sheehan. I certainly wouldn't presume to question how a grieving mother chooses to deal with her feelings. But like everything else I get that has been forwarded to the world, I decided to do a quick check on Snopes before I put too much credence into it.

Glad I did. For openers, Cindy Sheehan never gave up custody of her son.

In fact, Casey Sheehan's father and Mrs. Sheehan are just recently divorced, since Casey's death.

Also, Casey Sheehan does have a grave stone, and while it took a while to get there, I think the reasons Cindy Sheehan is quoted in the article as giving are pretty forgivable.

Anyway, I just don't get why, after all this time, people are still swallowing the crap they get in e-mail. Lord knows I wouldn't lie to you, Internet, but there are some very bad people out there and they want you to be their puppets. Beware!

You may or may not notice that I was just able to update my right-side column there--I didn't mean for it to take an age to get rid of the "It's a Girl!" banner and other stuff, but I had a little weirdness happen inside my templates that I needed help to fix. So it looks a little cleaner over there. I got rid of those big buttons so you're all classed the same, but slightly categorized.

I also added one new link. I have been very interested in this site since seeing the link in my site stat report. I still can't figure out how I can be a flaming liberal and he's a knuckle-dragging conservative and yet I don't disagree with that many of his opinions.

Updating my blogroll always makes me nervous. When I first started to blog, a then-friend of mine asked me why she wasn't linked in my blog roll. Well, it was because her blog was crap. I couldn't tell her that, and I ended up never answering her question. But that was back in the day when I didn't have a whole lot to do in my spare time, and I was checking out blogs right and left and discovering this whole new world...or should I say "blogiverse"?

Anyhoo, I don't have that kind of time anymore. I know there are folks who link to me and I haven't linked to them, and vice versa. It's nothing personal. I hope I don't offend anyone by not linking. I just can't keep track and my time is limited by a five month old baby who is even now hollering for me downstairs. Please keep coming back--I'll check out your site one of these days. I'll enjoy it. And months from now when I have a spare 10 minutes, I'll add you to the roll.

It's gotta be a zillion degrees outside. We've been completely house-bound, due to the ear infections and the fact that it is just painfully hot out there. Our air conditioner is laboring to keep it 77 degrees in the house, and I know we're luckier than some whose power is out and don't have a/c at all.

Yesterday's high in Boise was 107, and it was supposed to be the same today. What's it like in your neck o'the woods?

Freya and I both have ear infections, oh joy.

You wouldn't really know she had one, but for the fact that she has been grabbing her left ear for the last few days. What turned me on to the possibility was that I had a sore throat that moved into my ear, and I realized that we were both ailing. Matt and I took her to the pediatrician Friday, and he confirmed it. The damn pill pusher, though, immediately scrawled out a prescription for antibiotics, even though he said it was mild. Research I had done about ear infections says that half the time they're viral anyway, and antibiotics don't help. So we have the prescription, but are waiting to fill it pending her acting like she's feeling worse.

I, though...I feel like shit on a shingle. This is the first ear infection I can even recall having. My dad doesn't remember if I ever had them as a small child or not. So maybe that was my body's way of telling me Freya was getting one. Not to get all mystical on you or anything. The fact that I seem to be feeling much worse than her also makes me hope that my body is somehow giving her all the good nutrients and antibodies to keep her healthier, and then I can feel worse and get better more slowly. It's an interesting possibility, anyway.

When I was at the grocery store the other day, I was able to act on the influence of a particularly notable advertisement, and I picked up a couple of pints of Hagen Das Mayan Chocolate ice cream

The ad that had caught my eye was in a magazine, and I believe the tag line was, "So good Cortez invaded for it!"

I thought to myself, "Well, if it is good enough to sail across the Atlantic Ocean in some leetle bitty ships, then go and destroy an entire civilization for, I'll bet it tastes pretty darned good!"

And it does. Make the sacrifice of the Mayan culture matter: go buy some of this ice cream.

She's a little bigger now, but you get the general idea. And I'm proud to say that we now have a ubiquitous "bear skin rug" picture! You know this one is coming out on Prom night!

I've had a couple of pretty random things come my way recently, the obvious connection between them and me being my daughter's name.

First, via Dee is a doll of the goddess Freya. I am loving this, and am planning on getting one for the babe. It'll have to go on a shelf until she's old enough to play with it safely, but I can't resist. It's way too cool, as are the others in the collection.

Secondly, my in-laws occasionally send us copies of "The Writer's Almanac," which they subscribe to. They recently attended an exhibit of comic book art at a museum in Milwaukee, so this was right up their alley. As morally conservative as they are, I have to think they didn't quite get all the references in the poem... So this is "Female Comic Book Superheros," by Jeannine Hall:

Female Comic Book Superheroes

See her perfect three-point landing on top of that chariot,
riding the silver moon into the horizon,
city crumbling around her heels.

Freya hasn't started wearing thongs yet; they're not absorbent enough.

...in a pissy mood. Freya took another hour and a half past her regular time to get to sleep last night, so I was tired. However, my beloved husband decided arbitrarily that it was time for Freya and I to get up at 9:20, and he came in and stood by the bed until my eyes opened. I knew he was in there, but have you ever tried to fall back to sleep with someone just standing there? I freaking hate it when he does that, so I made sure he understood that it wasn't appropriate for him to judge when I'd had enough sleep.

Then he compounded things by letting me know that the dogs needed a haircut today and despite all the work I had done yesterday which was greatly appreciated (housecleaning, grocery shopping and general parenting), that it really would be a great thing if I'd cut the dogs hair. So I did that. Grudgingly.

Then grudgingly also, we all loaded up in the car this afternoon in the 100 degree heat and went to my nephew's birthday party at Eagle Island State Park. Having a small infant is a good excuse to not stay long anywhere outside in the heat, so we only had to be there an hour. We were on time, damn my puncutality, and got there 20 minutes before everyone else.

This is just my day to hate the world. Freya is sitting on my lap right now, trying to make me feel better by repeatedly licking my arm from wrist to elbow. Oddly, it kind of helps a little...

A quick check of my site stats shows me that a few of you are new here. Looks like some of you stayed to look around; some of you were in and out. Let's take a little journey to see how you got here and we'll enjoy some lively discussion, shall we?

"Ticket for fishing without license Idaho" got someone here twice. And they're evidently from California, based on the ISP location. Well, it sort of depends. For one thing, if you're an out-of-stater and you get caught fishing without a license, you're definitely going to get hammered by the judge. They don't look too kindly on non-residents trying to get around buying a fairly cheap temporary license. I'm guessing the ticket'll run you in the three digits, or at least five times more than it would cost you to just buy the damn temporary three-day license. 'Kay?

Others of you are absolutely eating up any reference to Pat Monahan. Look, I don't know the guy. Sweaty loins aside, I know zero about him, and have no idea whether his girlfriend's name is Amber or not. Sorry. Moving on...

Then there are the huge fans of Kelly Limp (of Real World New Orleans) and Scott Wolfe (former Party of Five Star) who were wed a few years back. I posted part of a news blurb about it. I have no idea if they're still married. It's been forever. Unless you actually are Kelly Limp or Scott Wolfe, why do you care? Find a new B-lister to stalk, for heaven's sake!

"Spaniel hair so fine clippers don't work," came to visit. Yes. Been there, done that. Get better clippers, that's all I can tell you.

Dear "Pregnancy symptoms smelly pee," I doubt it is pregnancy but it could be one hell of a yeast infection. Go see your doctor.

"My husband to be circumsized," are you friggin' kidding me? WHY? If it isn't already done, I think it's cruel to even contemplate. Yeesh!

Finally, "Howard Hughes favorite vegetable" was a search word string that brought someone here. I have no idea why, but I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that it was originally a gourd. But then he went off it.

So. Thanks for stopping by. I hope it was enlightening and that you'll come back again. Don't let the door hit ya...

We're not too far distant from the day that I called Matt, who was working at home, and said, "If you love me, you'll bring me some new pants." Freya had been sitting on my lap at work and launched a rocket poo that went through her diaper, all her clothes, and the leg of my jeans. Matt did bring me new pants, further proof of his abiding affection.

I called him again today.
"Are you busy?"
"Sort of, why?"
"I need a new shirt."
"Oh God, she got poop on your shirt?"
"No, it was me this time."
"You got poop on your shirt?"
"Uh, no. Listen, can you just bring me a new shirt?"

He brought me a new shirt and the new nursing pads I requested. (For those who are wondering, we live ten minutes from my office.) I had had a leaker. My good boob, Right Boob, sprung a big ol' leak and before I knew it, had soaked right through a Lansinoh pad, my bra and the double layers of my nursing t-shirt. Since I did not want to smell of cheese when it dried out, I required a new shirt. My boobs are so unpredictable these days.

This was hot on the heels of finding out that a good friend of mine, whose son is 3 weeks younger than Freya, is borderline "failure to thrive," meaning he's only gained one pound in the last two months and isn't getting enough calories from his mother's milk.

I guess I'll stick with my own problem, thanks.

Dear Freya,

What a difference a couple of months has made! For a while there, I was getting comments from well-meaning fools who remarked about how little you seemed. Well, no more! You are, to put it in the most polite way I can, very well-fleshed. You have the most adorable pudgy thighs--why even your toes are chubby! It is clear that you not only enjoy groceries, but you put them to good use.

You're starting to laugh a lot more often. We were going days between hearing your laugh, and now it is a daily occurance. Still, you do seem like a sober little person when you are in the company of others besides your dad and me. That's just a front: you're a real goofball. And you've recently learned how to suck on your own toes. Oy, such the prodigy! I call you my little yogarishi.

This is the last month that I will be able to bring you to work with me. I've heard other women in my position say they were sort of ready when they could no longer bring their babies. Now I understand what they mean. You seem to have turned a corner where you require more attention and interaction from people. In fact, you are happiest when there are lots of people around you and a tremendous amount going on. Action actually seems to soothe you.

We have started taking you to the swimming pool at our gym, and you seem to love it. We have a cute little ladybug floatie that you sit in, and we walk lap after lap in the pool, pushing you in front of us. You get so excited, and your arms and legs pump up and down, you splash your hands in the water, and poke your tongue out as you smile. In fact, you've really discovered how to work your tongue in the last couple of weeks. When you're really happy or excited, it pokes out, almost like you were a little reptile sensing the air around you. Not the most flattering metaphor, I know, but it really is adorable in person.

So now you're five months old...I have no idea what my life was like before you, and I don't much find it worth remembering. Why bother, when I can watch you and wait for what is ahead of us?

Love,
Mommy

gvgvn ht thnmbvnvmh x 7yhczzz m bm
u-nh z x

*I'm pretty sure it doesn't translate to, "Happy Birthday, Mr. President."

I celebrated my independence today by having Matt care for Freya while I painted our bathroom. Whooee! It's a lovely, patriotic shade of light blue. Really, it was nice, since this was the first time I have been able to do any kind of painting project in our house, as I got pregnant shortly after we bought the place and I couldn't paint.

We also took Freya on her first trip to the Boise Zoo today. When I was a kid growing up in the area, I was never very impressed with the place. What Idaho kid wants to go to a zoo and see stuff she can see in her own back yard? I have always called it, "The Anything You Can Run Over on an Idaho Highway Zoo." Deer, elk, crows...no big. However, it has come a long way in the last decade. There was some kind of red panda (it was very small and not terribly impressive), a snow leopard, a sloth bear and a camel. That's what I'm talking about.

They also had a butterfly garden, which was the one thing I know Freya actually registered. And since nothing is more exciting than watching other peoples' home videos, I invite you to thrill to the experience along with us here.

The title refers to when I completed my swim lessons at the YMCA when I was about 7. On the last day, I gained my Tadpole status, or whatever, and my mother presented me with a button that had a thumb-print on it, and it said, "Thumbody's a Swimmer!" That was a very proud moment in my life.

Carrying on in that proud tradition is Freya. I took her to the pool at our gym for the first time today. We got in the water and she clung to me like a little barnacle. But bit by bit, she relaxed. After a little while, I was able to hold her away from my body and bob up and down in the water a little bit. After that, she was ready to go in the little lady-bug floaty that we got for her.

I walked her back and forth, doing laps of the pool while she watched the other kids there jumping in and out and playing Marco Polo.

She'll be doing that herself before I know it, huh? And I'll look back and remember her very first time in a swimming pool and how brave she was.

Excuse me. I think I need to go lay down and cry over how fleeting time is/will be.