10 thing one shouldn't do on 4 hours of interrupted sleep

1. Climb Everest - may trip and fall.

2. Take a hot bath - may fall asleep and drown.

3. Handle dangerous equipment or substance - may maim oneself.




4. Argue politics - likely to lose patience and get into a fight.



5. Make jokes - you almost certainly will misjudge how risque the joke is.


6. Perform open heart surgery - if you are a surgeon and I need to explain this one to you, please surrender you license, ASAP.


7. Write a blog entry - ahem, they are not as funny.


8. Drive - driving drowsy causes just as many accidents as driving under the influence of alcohol, 'nuff said.


9. Do housework - no serious danger unless handling dangerous substances, but seriously, go get some sleep and clean tomorrow. It will be there tomorrow as no one will do it for you anyway.


10. Parent .

'Till death do us part.

Upon discovering that the home made muffin he was eating was made out of whole wheat flour:

SubHub: Whole wheat? Are you trying to kill me?
SubWife: No, I am actually trying to prolong your misery.

Apparently swift death is better than long life with me, since I was asked for the next batch to be made from bleached all purpose highly processed white flour, chocolate chips and lots of hydrogenated oils.


(Photo courtesy of www.allrecipes.com)

Baby Pollock

Baby is trying to assert her independence and refuses to be fed. SHE WANTS TO DO IT HERSELF!!! NOW!!! This new development (actually not so new, I am just behind on blogging) limits the foods we can give her as she clearly cannot feed herself with a spoon. Yogurt is out. So is cottage cheese. And soup. And apple sauce. Or any kind of jarred baby food. If she gets her chubby fingers on edibles of this sort, anything within a 3 foot radius can and will be covered in the mentioned above food.

But her food adventures don't stop here. With fruit and berry season upon us and limited access to other art supplies, Baby explores her artistic side with whatever she can find on her plate. Her technique needs some improvement, as it mostly consists of taking fistfuls of berries and smearing them all over herself and her booster seat; on the other hand, something similar worked for Jackson Pollock, or am I mixing him up with someone else? (Original title of this entry was baby Warhol... Thank you wikipedia for setting me straight.)

Exhibit A: White is so boring! The booster seat obviously needed a touch of color. Enter blackberries!


Exhibit B: Who picked these clothes for me? Let's add a drop of avocado to bring out the pink in the shirt and blue in denim, shall we? (Note from Baby's future editor: It required special dedication to get avocado on her knee. I am still wondering how she had done it while being strapped in a chair with a tray table over her lap.)




Exhibit C: Baby in white - sitting in her white booster seat covered in yogurt could not have been located. That should add value to it upon discovery.

Exhibit D: Inspired by Lady Gaga, baby covered in red raspberry tidbits and juice. Since raspberries stain like crazy, photo op has been canceled in favor of Baby's clothes preservation.

I have a feeling that Baby will get a strong following after this post. Let me assure you that we are ready for fame, so don't hesitate to contact me for the piece of Baby's art. Our prices are not cheap, but fair given the talent we are dealing with here. To her critics I have this to say - hold your horses. She is still a young and developing artist, and I assure you she is working on her smearing technique DAILY! Let's pray that SubHub and his penchant for neatness won't squash the budding talent here.

More of that jazz

About six months ago I've made a huge mistake. No, I did not develop a crush on Will Arnett. What would give you that idea? (Will, if you are reading this, leave a comment!) I had done something much, much dumber. In a casual conversation with a co-worker, who happens to be my cubicle neighbor, I have mentioned how much I hate listening to jazz, especially the one featuring female singers who are sadder than the sight of a terminally sick puppy and life without love combined. (Norah Jones, I know you are reading this and sweetie, I just cannot reciprocate your adoration for my talent. Nothing personal, but the year you won Grammy was one of the musically hardest for me.) Anyhow...

Guess what? Any office drone with a few months of work experience and an ounce of common sense knows what happens next. Almost immediately the guy starts listening to jazz. Featuring women who lost their will to live, but not their desire to whine sing about it. Nonstop. All day long. Very loud. Whine, whine, whine. Making me lose the ability to form full sentences.

However, I strongly believe that whatever happens, happens for a reason. To combat this auditory assault, I listen to my iPod, which has music on it only due to SubHub's kindheartedness and faulty earphones Due to the incredible laziness circumstances beyond my control I just can't ever find time to load anything on my iPod other than a few parenting lectures. At some point in the past, SubHub discovered the sad state of my iPod and took pity on me loading several Sting albums. (Sting, if you are reading this call Will Arnett, I've heard he's a huge fan!) SubHub also swiped my earphones in the process, but who's counting, right? So now, every time my musical nemesis turns up his volume, I take my iPod out and - miracle of miracles - my heart immediately fills with love for my husband. Who knew torture could be good for marriage? (Masochists, don't answer that.)

This stronger bond with SubHub, though, does not deter me from endlessly Googling "how to sabotage HP speakers without getting discovered."

>

Now this is the jazz I can listen to!

No matter how you look at it....

DD, DS and I are on our way from the park. Kids are happily talking to each other, when DS suggests, "I am Kipper, DD, you are Arnold, and Mommy, you are Pig." DD, "No, I am Kipper, you are Tiger and Mommy is Pig." They went about it several ways, but either way I ended up being Pig.


Clearly, I am Jake. On the other hand, Pig makes one mean chocolate cake :)