Fake eyelashes and imaginary friends

I have friends on the internet. It's 2013. Can we just accept that? Yes? Good!

I spent the weekend with my friends from the internet. Most of them I'd met before. It was the first time I'd been away from my baby for more than 12 hours, so that was a little daunting, but it went really well. My flight out was on time and uneventful. I was picked up at the airport by a couple of Amazons from the Far North and Kammah. We had lunch where our waiter, Francisco, was easily 6'7" tall.

We went to the party house, where I waved at and hugged some people, then hung out and put out snacks for folks to eat when the "official" party got started at 4.

Then I hung out some more, hugged and waved at more people, ate more snacks and went to bed after midnight, which, you know, never really happens to me. Or hasn't happened in many, many months. It's hard to describe how wonderful it was, because we didn't really... DO anything. We just moved around and talked. But that's sort of the beauty of it. You could walk up to any conversation in progress, sit down, and join in eventually. Kelly did live book reviews that had us all laughing. There was an edible fruit arrangement, which was delicious except for one thing. There were marshmallow-looking things that were in fact white chocolate covered bananas. Stealth bananas. Thankfully the deception would crumble as soon as you touched one, but then you touched it and who wants to eat the thing you already put your grimy paws on, so you've wasted a perfectly edible something that someone else might have wanted to eat, all because you thought it was a marshmallow. It wasn't a marshmallow, but I didn't pick it up, so I guess none of that really matters. There were plenty of marshmallows on Saturday, and I ate them.

I slept nearly 7 whole hours without disturbance, so that's sort of the highlight of my trip right there. Breakfast was had, then I put on real pants and went in search of a salad with Noemi and the Amazons. This is where Apple maps screwed us over, and somehow I had the data settings on my map all wonky and couldn't get Google to help. Anyway, we drove, following the directions provided to two completely useless locations before finally finding the Chili's we were searching for, and then I had a trio of tiny margaritas. And went to Target and bought a pair of yoga lounge pants on clearance. Exciting, right?

We en-purpled the house. I stopped mid-application of some truly ridiculous eye makeup (teal smokey-esque eye with fake eyelashes! for no reason other than I could! Fun!) to learn how to make the crack dip. It was as delicious as I remembered. People arrived in their pajamas. Kelly revealed the amazing cake. We sat around and talked some more until the wee hours of morning. I want to mention everyone, because I got to talk to everyone (the beauty of a small gathering) and it was nice. I spent a lot of time stealing kisses from Louis, Lynnette's beautiful baby boy, and hearing horrible dating stories from Julia. Erica and I talked about Wheel of Time & Game of Thrones and we may not be book buddies, but we're gonna give it a shot. I met Amanda, who is the new target of my "move to Texas because I like you" mind beams. Seriously Amanda. Move to Texas. Your people are here. We teased the Canadian. We were reasonable ladies having a good time in a low-pressure high-fun setting. Pjs really is a breeze to attend. Kelly is a great hostess who puts so much thought and effort into throwing a great party and makes it seem like it all just happens like magic.

I have more pictures on my actual camera, but I out-smarted myself. I didn't bring the cord that lets me get the pictures to a computer, because I knew I wasn't going to have a computer in AZ, but now I don't know where it is, so enjoy this thingamajigger for now.

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10 months

This one snuck up on me. Mostly because I forgot what day it was, or rather, was mightily confused about the way the calendar worked. I had it in my head that Saturday was the 6th, so Eleanor would be 10 months on Sunday. Except Saturday is the 9th. So she was 10 months yesterday. Oops.

The Vitals
6 teeth now! (4 top, 2 bottom for those keeping track, which is to say, me)

Highlights
J's birthday party game night was a blast and E was quite the little charmer. We attended our friend Ben's baptism & 1st brithday party. Eleanor was quite the little crank pants because she missed her morning nap and then refused to sleep anywhere but her own bed. Party pooper.
She moved to her crib. Or rather, we finally assembled the crib instead of just having her sleep in the co-sleeper in pack and play mode in her own room.

Skills:
Chewing on everything--tables, couches, toes (not ONLY her own), elbows (not her own), the dog (who is too dumb patient to move)
Squatting--like she actually bends her knees to sit down now instead of just falling over
Standing as long as a) no one is watching, 2) she doesn't realize it
Squnch face!

 Works in Progress:
She spent the past month mostly getting teeth at a somewhat alarming rate so hasn't made much progress in the walking or standing unassisted arena
She understands some words now. More than recognizing her name. Mostly short sentences with hand gestures. Come here. Give that to me. She also knows what areas of the house are off limits, because she GRINS right at us when she starts crawling that way.
Waving. We don't wave much so while she has the hand motion, she doesn't really connect it with much right now. Although on our walk yesterday, she waved at all the cars as they passed.
High-five. She won't give them, but if you give her one, she giggles like mad


She likes:
Tormenting Puca. She chases him around the house. It shouldn't be a fair fight. He's a fast dog but he just lets her crawl all over him. Best dog in the whole wide world, ok?
Exploring every nook and cranny of the house
Crunchy foods
Splashing (She's started doing this very scary thing where she gets so excited during bath time that she laugh and leans all the way forward until her face is in the water and then sits up so fast she starts to tip over. Non-slip mats are no match for my daughter's enthusiasm)
Crawling under things
Shiny things like car keys and watches

She dislikes:
Certain unidentifiable random configurations of air molecules--I don't know. Sometimes she's fine, everything is great, and then WOE! Wailing! and then, poof, fine again

I like:
making her laugh
going for walks
Watching her play with other babies

I dislike:
Not knowing how to comfort her when she's sick. Man, I'll be so excited when she's old enough for a decongestant.

Anyway, it was a quick month and I can hardly believe her birthday is in 2 months.

The story of the butter knife

One should not get weepy over a butter knife. I think it's safe to say that emotional displays over cutlery are generally discouraged, though I was rather excited when I received a set of giraffe print knives. Still, there is a story as to why I found myself misty-eyed over a butter knife.

When I was (a young warthog) younger, I took for granted that every kitchen had all the same things. I assumed everyone had a blender like ours, an avocado green KitchenAid stand mixer, a Cuisinart (which I always want to spell with a q), a toaster and butter knives. Not just any butter knives, the kind that we had. They weren't actually butter knives, but rather perfect little spatulas, but I didn't know that when I was little. They were the things I used to spread stuff on bread, therefore they were butter knives. My mom had some. My grandma had some. So obviously, everyone must have them.

When I moved out on my own, my mother loaded me up with many things--hand-me-down everythings that served me perfectly well (some still reside in this house), but no butter knives. Surely just an oversight. I halfheartedly looked for some when I was out shopping for other household things but never found the right ones. I had plenty of ACTUAL butter knives. What I wanted was the perfect little spatula thingies. I never did find them.

Fast forward many, many years, to last year, when my granddad died. He did not die from a tragic butter knife/spatula related injury, but the two are related, I promise.

At Granddad's memorial, my Uncle Mike set up a table full of... well, granddad stuff. It had rocks and train stuff, and the Route 66 shirt Grandma made, his hat, his awards, his walking stick, and... some butter knives. I was puzzled. In the mingling and meandering about time before the service, I remarked to my brother, "Hey, look. Butter knives?" He just nodded and said there was a bit about it in the eulogy my mom and her siblings had put together (that my brother was reading).

Ok, you guys... I know they're not butter knives. I did eventually learn that they were spatulas. But, I thought, surely they were cooking spatulas. Like frosting spatulas or something.

Nope. They're chemistry spatulas. My granddad brought them home from the lab. We also had pharmacy spatulas (black handle, not wooden, tapered tip) that my dad brought home from HIS lab.

SCIENCE! Cooking is science and we had the tools to prove it.

Anyway, that's the story of the butter knife. It's a chemistry spatula. Now you know why I get misty and nostalgic when making peanut butter toast.