Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
I have no idea why I just said that, it just seemed like the thing to say. But rum, yummy.
I love my new ASUS laptop, most of all because it allows me to post and post and post no matter where I am. Right now I’m watching Lincoln chew on the corner of a rug in between bouts of accidentally bashing his head into the hardwood floor. The windows are open, it’s not eleventy zillion degrees, and Liam is calling Charlotte a stupidhead in the other room. And I’m writing a blog post.
Deacon Greg mentioned yesterday that “ASUS” is actually pronounced “Hay-sus” and that I’m writing with Jesus. This has lead to me anthropomorphizing Jesus in a weird way as being a part of my laptop, and I keep saying things in my head like, “hey, Jesus, does it bother you that the background is pink? Cause I can change that if it’s too girly. What’s your favorite color? You’re from the desert, so what? Probably brown? Orange, maybe?”
Thanks a lot, Deacon Greg. Jesus is probably like, “um, Calah, I’m not in your laptop. And no one’s favorite color is brown.”
So last night a guy from the Tampa area was sucked into a sinkhole while he slept. In his bed. As in, the sinkhole opened up in his bedroom.
I’m so glad that I have one more neurotic fear to combat now. Zombies? Check. Apocalypse? Check. Serial killers? Check. Asteroids? Check. Sinkholes? Double check. Sweet dreams, self.
Speaking of neurotic fears, something totally neat happened to me after this last pregnancy. My stomach muscles just gave the frak up and vamoosed off the middle of my stomach, leaving me with a wicked awesome case of diastisis recti.
It’s so cool. It means that no matter how many flat-stomached and correctly-formed crunches and transverse crunches and pelvic tilts I do (and that number is creeping into the thousands by now), I still look like I’m four months pregnant.
So now, joining my pregnancy-gingivitis-induced-loose-teeth and horribly wavy and unmanageable hair and brittle, de-calcified bones that I keep fracturing, I have a permo-preggo stomach.
I cannot wait to see what I will look like in twenty years should I fail to master the Marquette method of NFP. I’m guessing I’ll be a shoo-in for the role of “meth-mouthed, fat and sloppy, unkempt housewife” should a Florida version of “Swamp People” ever be produced. Except my reaction when faced with an alligator is less to wrassle it and more to scream in terror and run for my life.
This, however, is definitely happening for my next maternity photo shoot:
So how is the lights-out Lent thing going, you ask? It’s sort of going okay. My in laws were here for a week, so mostly it didn’t go then, and the last two nights I’ve been so tired that I’ve just gone to bed as soon as the kids were down. So, well, the lights went off at least. I just did less praying and more snoring. We’ll see how it continues. There’s still a month left in Lent, you know.
But seriously, I’m kind of not ready for Lent to end, because when Lent ends, Easter happens, and for Easter to happen properly at Chez Alexander, spanikopita must be made.
And last year that shiz took me six solid hours.
Granted, I was pregnant, so I kept having to stop and pee and stretch my back out and take cat-naps, but this year I’ll probably have to do it with Lincoln strapped to me because he loves the Baby Bjorn almost as much as he loves his TARDIS blanket. So it should be at least equally as painful.
(Sidenote to the Ogre: I am totally not making spanikopita with Lincoln strapped to me. That was just for the benefit of the internet, so they would think I was some kind of heroic martyr. You’ll have to be on baby duty if you want a Greek Easter this year. PS: I love you. You’re the best. )
Go see Jen for more quick takes! I’ll probably post again later today, because I can take Jesus Laptop everywhere. But if not, I have a totally exciting post for tomorrow about the Homerathon that happened here in Ave a few weeks ago. Just check out the shirt: