No, there isn't a time change between here and Indiana. However, I'm still pretty wiped out - and I slept for a looooong time last night, as did Norah, who declined any and all opportunities to nap yesterday. We went through three airports, two planes, and one cranky airplane-row-mate who was forced to sit with us because he checked in late. Here is an important fact for those of you who travel child-free and would like to remain that way for the duration of your flight: DON'T CHECK IN LATE, because you will inevitably be left with the last seat on the plane, which will inevitably be next to a frazzled, slightly sweaty woman with a baby whose main goals for the next hour are to put her fingers into your ear at least three times and pluck each of your arm hairs, one at a time, from the arm sticking out from your short-sleeved dress shirt.

[Well if you'd just control your child...! you're all screaming at me, but let's switch places here for a minute, and say that if YOU had to pack a baby in a sling through approximately eight miles of terminal, strap her to a food court seat and feed her wiggly ass, and maintain your cool so that no one else got hysterical, YOU would want to get on the plane, sit her on your lap, turn your face away, and drown quietly in a $9 bloody mary TOO.]

Really, I'm exaggerating, and the trip was fine. Norah, although she's a wiggler of the first order, is an excellent flier - she tempers her arm-hair-plucking with that charming little "Heeey, but I'm precious!" smile, and nine times out of ten we get away with a lot of badness. She rode rather peacefully in the ultra sexy new sling I made with Adrienne, and it was pretty easy to boost her out, trip lightly through the security scanner, and then boost her back in. We didn't even take the stroller, which was probably for the best, considering the sprinting we had to do to make our connection. I almost certainly would have mowed down at least 12 other people.

Home was... home. Since we were only there for about two days, I was pretty busy, what with cleaning out my parents' house and making five, yes, FIVE trips to Wal-Mart for boxes and various other necessities. (LAH: I looked for your hubs while I was there, and didn't see him - is it possible that the birds ate him?) The weird thing was that I ran into two high school boyfriends, one in a downtown grocery and one that I literally smacked into coming out of Wal-Mart the third time. I haven't seen either of these guys for nine years, so to see them both within 12 hours of each other was a tad unsettling, in that "let's remind you of the days when your hair was below your shoulderblades and you wore entirely too much plaid flannel" way. Even more surreal was the fact that right before going out, I had sorted through a drawer of old pictures, including some of Old Boyfriend #1 and me at a certain pool party, which shall remain part of history... and then there he was reaching for his deli order in much the same way that he used to reach for my bikini string, musician fingers curled down and thumb up.

It is just always awkward when history flares up and smacks you around, especially when you haven't showered and your hair is flat and you're wearing a dirty sweatshirt. But we smiled anyway, and we small-talked, and we walked out together, and off he went, la de da.

Now that we've explored that little piece of my past, here are some photos for your viewing pleasure...

Norah in the airport, discovering the joys of Mama's carry-on

Baby Sleeps-No-More on the plane, next to our non-cranky row buddy, whose daughter turned out to be married to a guy my dad knows at home. Spooooky.Taking a bath in the kitchen sink in my old room (which is more like an efficiency apartment, really)

More fun can be found on Flickr, but not today, as I have 54 tons of laundry and dishes to do. Why is it that when I'm not here, it gets just as messy? Two guesses, and the first one don't count...

The holy sh*t post

Here is a list of the things my genius child has learned to do in the last seven days, proving that she is the smartest baby alive. (Adrienne: I'm not braggin', I'm just sayin'.) Seriously, though, I'm only listing these things so that I can remember what this was like, this week where everything I thought was true about Norah was completely flipped upside-down.

1. Spit with some sense of direction and intent - like at my eyes when I feed her avocado. She's all, take this, woman, I'll give you squishy and green right where it burns.

2. Say "Mo mo mo mo mo" while eating (but definitely not about avocado). I am assuming this means "more" and not "seriously, you're poisoning me here."

3. CRAWL. FAST. On her tippytoes - so is this crawling, or some weird kind of mobile baby yoga? It's like Downward Dog Iditarod.

4. Pat. She can now look me square in the eyes, smile, and pat my cheek like it's a baby kitten. Then she sticks her sharp little fingernail into my nostril lining, and I have to beat her for a while.

5. Pack... because we're going to see my parents tomorrow! We're flying, just us two, so hold your breath and cross your fingers that we aren't killed by the person seated next to us, who will most certainly hear the song from Norah's "Counting House" book one too many times, be driven insane, and smother us both with cheapo airline pillows. You just never know about some people's Counting House tolerance.*

* You know, now that I think about it, maybe we'll sort of accidentally lose Counting House in a horrible long-term parking lot shuttle incident...

So bye! Have a good week! Miss me!


I finally turned in my draft thesis. FINALLY. This wouldn't be so impressive - it's short, it's boring, and no one will ever read it - except that I FINALLY GOT OFF MY ASS AND TURNED IT IN. If I wasn't on a diet right now, I would SO be eating something huge and chocolate-covered. And full of booze.


Seeing as how I have no news to report, we shall meme.

My grandmother's party was fabulous, if I do say so - and the elderly love for Norah was positively frightening. She was a little freaked out in the beginning (possibly it was the combined scents of Shalimar, Chanel no. 5, and Aspercreme) but she warmed up and got used to being passed from shaky grip to shaky grip, and rather enjoyed herself. That big clip-on earring pulling thing, it never gets old.

But otherwise I don't have much to say - it's been a rather quiet week - so I will cave and do a meme that MB had on her site, because I've never done one and I want to see how hard it is...

3 things you wish for (just for you)
1. A Canon EOS 20D camera with eleventy accessories
2. Less ass (of the bodily variety, not the sex kind)
3. People to start using my name as a slang word, as in "Oh, my new sunglasses? They're Annielicious."

3 things you would do to/for yourself if there was no one to judge you (or if you had the guts to do it!)
1. Liposuction
2. Spend all my money on new clothes and a makeover
3. Hook up with Rob in one of the exam rooms at his work

3 bad habits you have
1. Biting my cuticles
2. Boredom eating
3. Leaving the laundry in the dryer for three days while it gets all wrinkly

3 insecurities you feel
1. Does this make my butt look big? (Sing it, Supa girl.)
2. Are we broke again?
3. Am I a good mother?

3 talents/skills you wish you had
1. Singing like Natasha Bedingfield or Joss Stone
2. Cooking like Paula Dean, my new best girlfriend
3. The ability to solve heinous crimes in under an hour a la Mariska Hargitay, the sexiest detective on the tube

3 things that you would do if you had more time
1. Learn to play the violin
2. Get my eyebrows waxed
3. Finish my master's thesis and get everyone off my back... DAD...

3 things that bring you peace/relaxation
1. sleep (oh my gosh yes)
2. Watching the baby sleep
3. Watching Rob sleep - okay, that actually just makes me giggle, because he sleeps with his mouth open and he looks absolutely harmless. Unless I'm trying to wake him up, which is when he becomes more like an angry bag of weasels.

3 things that spark your creativity
1. Photo albums
2. People having babies or getting married (time to make the presents!)
3. Other people's successful creative endeavors

That wasn't too bad - it was way more fun than blithering through a newsless post. I'll let you know if anything cool happens... or you could let me know, and I'll write about it. Whatev. :)

Sunday morning

4:30 a.m.: Wake up to singing, Norah's newest trick. It's not a real song, of course, but she says "La la la boooooo" and other such sounds in her sweet little voice. And then I give her a bottle full of last night's wine and she goes to sleep.

Ha! No! I get up and we play! Duh! This is what I get for letting her crash at 6:30 last night - her tiny internal alarm says 10 hours is IT, and I know it, but I watched her drift off with her little face all smushed into my shoulder anyway. What. An. Idiot.

Norah's passed out at this point, though, so I have time to get some work done and pull myself together for the arrivals of my mother, who's been with my dad, and my sister, who's been on the highway with Max the Airedale. Kate's staying the week, as next weekend we're going south to help my grandmother throw a dinner party. Sixteen olds and a baby - Norah's cheeks will be purple with pinchmarks after this is over.

So everyone's coming, and I must tango with the vaccuum and waltz with the Windex, although I don't know why I bother - Max and Astrid will have the place in pieces in about ten minutes. I meant to do it last night, but get this, I had a DATE. Rob grilled me a steak and poured me the aforementioned wine and we ate at the dining table like grownups do. That kid, he's GOOD.