First Feast

The Bug had her first "solid food" on Thanksgiving morning. I use the term loosly (and in quotes) because rice cereal appears to be neither "solid" nor "food." There is clearly a reason that rice cereal is not part of the adult diet. Thus far, the Bug is less than thrilled with "solid food." Day three and we seem only to succeed in placing about six spoonsful in her mouth, the majority of which just squishes back out and onto her chin. I hope that better culinary alternatives increase her enthusiasm. Apple sauce is going to seem like a party in her mouth by comparison.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Enjoy this little clip from the archives of "The Show with Ze Frank". For those who are unfamiliar, this guy did an awesome video blog every day for a year. It was great. He opened every show with "Hello Sports Racers..." and had the sports racers themselves contribute their own openings during the last few months of the show's run. Anyway, this video seems to capture the holiday quite well, with a lovely little political bent.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday!

Portnoy's Complaint

Before reading Portnoy's Complaint, I'd read two books by Philip Roth: The Plot Against America, and American Pastoral. I really liked them both, although I preferred the latter. The former is about the life of a New Jersey Jewish family in the 1950s, during an alternate reality in which Lindbergh was elected President of the United States. The latter is about the life of a New Jersey Jew during the explosive 1960s.

Needless to say, when I picked up Portnoy's Complaint, I had absolutely no idea that Roth could be funny. And in this book, we're talking laugh-out-loud funny! The entire book is told in the first person to the psychiatrist of a very sexually-disfunctional Jewish guy from New Jersey (trend here?), the root of whose problems probably lie in his boyhood relationship with his mother. Regardless, it's a funny, funny book. I am wildly impressed with the versatility of Roth's writing - this was an unexpected pleasure.

The Game 2007

We took the Bug to The Game (which, for those not in the know, is the somewhat self-aggrandizing colloquialism used for the Harvard v. Yale football game by people affiliated with both schools) on Saturday. It was pretty cold, but we bundled her up in her puffy snowsuit, and she seemed completely fine with everything.

There was, however, something that was totally not fine. I am not sure if it was the fault of Yale, or of the New Haven cops, or someone else entirely, but the traffic was unacceptably terrible! We spent two hours getting from the Merritt Parkway to the Yale Bowl - a distance of roughly 3 1/2 miles.

By the time we got to The Game, it was nearly time for it to start. We were supposed to get there around 9:30, tailgate for about three hours, watch Yale destroy Harvard, and go home. Instead we tailgated for a couple of hours, learned that Yale was being blown out at halftime, elected not to go in at all, tailgated for a little longer, and headed home when the game was ending. I was disappointed not to have seen all the friends I'd planned to with the scheduling snafu, but we had a really good time all the same - I'd been looking forward to taking the Bug to The Game since before she was born!

Happy Birthday, Venus Envy!

Very happiest 30th Birthday wishes going out to my sistah, whose Venus Envy (#77 on the Weld County Roller Derby Queens) costume this Halloween kicked off my interest in that strangest of sports.

She's really thinking about trying out, folks, so please... share with us all your enthusiasm for her personal style (demonstrated here) and your conviction that she can throw elbows with the toughest biddies on the floor.

I wish I could be part of your Disco Party tonight!

Have a great one, Jessie!

Bug and the cats

The Bug has recently become totally fascinated by our two jet-black house cats. She'll watch Sirius, the fancy 3-year-old male long hair, and Buffy, the super-fast (though recently somewhat rotund) 1-year-old female short hair, whenever they walk through the room. They've also recently become interested in her. When she's sitting on my lap or on the floor, they'll stare back at her, sometimes even walking over to sniff her and lick her little bald head. I can't tell if this means we have a future crazy cat lady on our hands, or if she simply realized that two (if she even realizes that there *are* two) beings, quite unlike Mommy and Daddy yet also quite unlike her, are sharing her quarters.

An amusing aside: Sirius loves the Bug's room. He slips in every night when we're putting her down to sleep. We generally realize it and remove him before shutting the door and going about our evening, but every so often - tonight being one of those times - we don't notice he's in there until we hear his cries emanating from the baby monitor.

Two dental milestones

I hate the dentist. I mean, I REALLY hate the dentist. I hate the sounds, the smells, how it feels... and I have never even had a cavity. I actually get violent thoughts while I am in the dentist's chair, and I only get through it by clenching my fists, squeezing my eyes shut, and desperately wishing I could find my spirit animal.

So it is with quite a bit of pride that I announce two major dental milestones. Number one: for the first time, I didn't cry today. I didn't even tear up when my teeth were being cleaned. And number two: this marks the longest streak of visiting the dentist every six months of my adult life. It's my third on-schedule visit.

If I am completely honest with myself, though, the only reason I didn't slap ole Dr. Paul's hand out of my mouth, stand up, and run out halfway through the cleaning is that soon the Bug will have a tooth, and I'll make her go to the dentist. I couldn't handle the hypocrisy.

Roller derby

"Obsession" may be a strong word, but I'm pretty sure I have a new one. It's roller derby. My sister dressed up as a roller derby queen for Halloween, and she's since actually gone to watch a bout. Then last night we saw this excellent profile of a couple of skaters on Treasure HD (which is rapidly becoming our favorite television network).

I've been checking out the Gotham Girls Roller Derby league online. The championship bout, between the Bronx Gridlock and the Queens of Pain, is coming up this Saturday night. I'm totally disappointed that it's happening on the night of the Harvard/Yale Game - I would love to attend. Plus, at the after-party they've got $2 PBRs with your wristband. Cool.

Unfortunately, my sweet husband doesn't believe that I am roller derby material. There's a league in Connecticut, too. But if you are, tryouts are next week... anyone have their A-Game?

My juicy gossip

A little more than a year ago, I ended up in possession of one of my friends' spiral notebooks. I'd intended to return it - there were some lists of on the first couple of pages but the rest was blank - but somehow I never did. I basically coopted the notebook, throwing away the used pages.

So imagine my surprise when I found a love letter in the middle of the notebook! It wasn't written by my friend, although I am pretty sure I know who the auther is. I'm not sure if it was a draft that was copied onto nice stationery (which was one of my tactics in high school), or if it was just never mailed. Either way, I'm definitely going to hell for reading this true confession of unrequited love.

Moral of the story: don't leave drafts of crazy love letters in anyone else's notebooks. And if you do, make damn sure you get that notebook back.

Babies don't fall back

The end of daylight savings time has kicked my butt this year. Apparently, the concept of an extra hour of sleep means nothing to the Bug. So Sunday morning, she was up at 5:30am. Normally, that's a little early for me, but I'd been up late drinking with some friends until 1 or 2am. So 5:30 was terrible. The Bug's finally coming around, and today she actually slept until her normal wakeup time of 7:00am, but I have yet to make up that extra sleep.

I suppose the moral of the story is actually twofold. The first, babies just don't "fall back". The second, revealed upon slightly deeper inspection, may perhaps be that I shouldn't stay up drinking until the wee hours when I have baby duty in the morning.