One given Sunday

(Editor's note: this post does not contain references to bodily functions. Although I WOULD like to point out that if I want to talk about such things, this is my blog and I CAN. Nyah.)

This was Rob's last day off for quite a while, as he's started his oncology rotation and he'll be working long days with the extremely sick. I asked what made it harder; he explained it with, "Before, when someone came in with a cough, they got some cough drops. Now, if they come in with a cough, they're probably about to die." Ah, I said, and immediately mixed a g-&-t.

So we futzed around in the bathroom (and isn't it SAD that that doesn't mean what it used to mean, instead of meaning sanding down the ridges in my rawther impressive new plastering job), and went for a brief foray around a nearby neighborhood, and roasted a chicken with much success and garlic.

And then, the miracle of miracles: Norah sat up. Granted, she was parked in her Boppy pillow, and she was hypnotized into stillness by the wonder of Desperate Housewives (child-rearin' question: when does she start understanding what "extramarital" and "homicide" actually mean?). But she sat, she sat right there, lounging on her fat little arms, and all I wanted to do was hand her a cocktail with an umbrella and get her some tiny Ray-bans. GENIUS, I'm telling you.

And speaking of precious babies, get a load of the happy face on this wee girl!


  1. I'm guessing your doggie doesn't smother Norah with kisses when she is on the floor? It took flying to Albany for a week to get Sebastian sitting up which he is now doing like a pro and is threatening me with crawling too. Things are about to get REALLY interesting!

  2. Maybe you can convince Quizno's to let her in commercials with Bob. Your daughter is glorious!

    - Adrienne