Cabinet Confusion

Frank, when I said, "It would be cool to have see-through cabinets, maybe even just one," this is not what I had in mind:

Cuteness runs in the family

I don't mean to brag but if you bought a picture frame and this shot was in it, you wouldn't think it was weird. In fact, you might think, "I'm going to keep this adorable family in the frame because they are way cuter than my own family."

We had a photo shoot with Frank's side of the family and the whole thing was saved by a game of Peekaboo. Every time you see Leo smiling and/or laughing it's because someone is behind the photographer, making a fool of himself, holding up a blanket, jumping up and down and screaming, "Peekaboo!"

And since I didn't get her permission to post these on my blog I want to give a big shout out to the amazing photographer who took these: Kimberley with Slice of Life Photography in Katy, TX http://www.asliceoflifecreativephotography.com/

Because really, we're not always this cute.

Nobody puts baby in the corner!

But he sometimes puts himself there. Now that Leo can roll over, he likes to sleep on his stomach. And not just in the middle of the crib (where we put him), he likes to inch his way into the corner and stay huddled there all night.

This is where I found him yesterday morning when he woke up:

(And he's in his sleep sack, not a sleeveless evening gown as it may appear).

Jamma Jamma Jamma Jamma Jamma P.J.!

The paper says it's a "dreary day" here in Atlanta. It's cold and rainy. Do you know what that means? We get to wear our PJs all day! Well, actually, only Leo gets to wear his PJs because we have a no-pajama-policy here at Writinggal.

Leo likes this book called "Pajama Time" and in it there's this little cheer that goes, "Jamma Jamma Jamma Jamma Jamma P.J.!"

So when I told Leo that it was too rainy for us to go on a walk outside he was bummed. But when I told him he could wear his pajamas all day and I sang the P.J. cheer, he got really comfortable with the idea:

As Frank always says, "It's good to be Leo James!"

Reindeer Games

I often wake up in the middle of the night and say crazy things. Rather than just telling me to go back to sleep, Frank plays along. So if I suddenly sit up out of a sound sleep and say, “The corn tastes like peas!” Frank will say, “Why do you think it tastes like that? Did you accidentally make peas instead of corn?”

Or if I say, “Save the cheerleader, save the world” after a particularly spooky episode of Heroes, he’ll say, “Are you gonna save the cheerleader? What’s your special power?”

None of these are even close to real examples because it’s all sort of foggy to me. All I know is that I say something that I think is completely coherent and legitimate and Frank chuckles because he knows I’m not making any sense. When he comes back with his silly questions, I get really frustrated and become more adamant about proving my sanity.

But I do remember one night a couple of years ago when I said something crazy, Frank responded and then I came back with, “I’m not gonna play your reindeer games!”

“My reindeer games?” he asked, laughing.

“Yes, you’re trying to trick me! And I know what I’m talking about!” I said.

Lately my middle-of-the-night outburts have been about Leo. I always think he’s there in the room and more specifically, caught up in the covers somewhere. I’ll wake up and frantically toss all the covers off the bed, searching for him. In reality, he’s sleeping in his crib in another room and Frank usually has to direct me to the monitor to assure me of this.

Last night I said something like, “When you pick up the baby, make sure you’re careful not to drop his limbs!”

Frank said, “What? Don’t take him to Grandma Lib’s?”

I said, “I know what I’m talking about. I’m awake. I just want to make sure you don’t drop the baby.”

“Elsa, where is the baby?” Frank asked. “Did you check the monitor?”

“Yes. I know he’s not in here. I’m just saying to be careful when you hold him,” I said (actually still thinking he was in the room).

“But you said something crazy about Grandma Lib,” Frank insisted.

“No, I said his limbs! His limbs! Don’t drop him or he’ll hurt his limbs!” I insisted, and then realized that I wasn’t making any sense and felt silly.

Frank came back with, “Hey, don’t think I’m gonna play your reindeer games!”

Another "almost-milestone" from Leo

On your mark, get set...

Leo fools me sometimes and acts as if he's going to crawl. He gets in this position and I say, "Come on, Leo!"

Then he just kinda falls over.

And actually, I'm okay with that. Just as long as he's mobile by the time he goes to kindergarten.

Walk While you Work

I get lots of random press releases here at WG HQ but this one caught my eye: It's called the TrekDesk:

Basically, you walk at slow speeds while working and then at night you take off the desk part and you can break into a sprint. I like how they say it's a "mobile work station by day/treadmill by night." Reminds me of my favorite Barbie, day-to-night Barbie. She wore a business suit by day and you could take off her jacket, reveal her glittery camisole, turn the pencil skirt around to show a tulle fabric and she was ready for her "evening with Ken." I also had the office/apartment that went with it. DTN Barbie had a Murphy bed! If only she had had the TrekDesk, maybe Ken wouldn't have left her for Peaches and Cream Barbie.

Workin' It

When the camera comes out, Leo totally knows what to do:

Multi-Tasking

Today I had a busy-mommy-dilemma:

I needed to carry the basket of Leo’s laundry downstairs.

I needed to carry Leo downstairs.

I was pressed for time.

I came up with a solution that pleased everyone:

Unaffiliated Fans

This girl in my sorority was really into the Pittsburgh Penguins. Her whole room was done in a Pittsburg Penguins motif. The comforter, the pillows, the dust ruffle, her trash can—all yellow and black. And that would be somewhat tolerable if she had grown up in Pittsburgh, going to all their…hockey (had to look it up to see what sport we were talking about) games. But she didn’t grow up there. She didn’t even have family there. Her dancing* coach (*changed the sport to protect her identity) was from there apparently.

She is what I call an unaffiliated fan. People who are crazy obsessed with a team without really any right to it.

It’s even worse with colleges. My neighbor told me about a guy who had a personalized license plate that said something like #1Wildcat (but with fewer letters and no numeral sign and a different school). The point is that my neighbor said, “Oh, he must have been the Valedictorian of his class at Kentucky.” Come to find out he didn’t even go there. He went somewhere like Louisville Community College.

Now if you didn’t go to a school with a good football team or aren’t from a town with a decent pro sports team, then feel free to root for another. It’s your right. But when you get all obsessed with the team and start going fan-tacky (i.e. room in your house dedicated to the team, personalized license plates, painting your face), then you start to look a bit silly.

People will say, “Oh, I see you painted your house orange and blue and have a Florida mail box cover as well as several bumper stickers referring to the Gators. When did you graduate?”

“Oh, I didn’t go there. I just went to Disney World once.”

Hey, get a gators t-shirt, root for them to win, maybe even put some money down on the game but do you really need to pay tribute to the school in such an obnoxious, permanent way? A way that’s gonna beg some questions that you’re not ready to answer?

And if you went to a school that’s associated with a big school and you want to be an über fan, I’m afraid you’re still out of luck. Like if you went to UT Arlington, for example. You’re welcome to get a #1 Mavericks Fan license plate (although people will probably think you’re rooting for the Dallas basketball team). But you really can’t justify a #1 Longhorns fan license plate.

To me, the point of fanmanship is because you have a tie to the team, the school or the city. That’s why they say “root root root for the home team” not “root root root for the team in the city where your dancing coach lives.”

A ball of fun

How 'bout them horns?

"I'm not sure why the whole family is dressed alike but I'm having a blast!" --Leo, after his first TX v. OU experience.

The Faces of Wall Street

Photographers at newspapers, internet news sites and magazines all over the country must be so bored. Every day since this Wall Street disaster started their photo editors have been saying, “Can you get us another image of a white man putting his hand to his face, looking forlorn?” The photographers oblige and try to find the most pathetic looking white guy they can.

But now the media outlets have decided to get a little more creative with it. The photo editors must now be saying, “We need diversity! But make sure, whoever it is, they have at least one hand on their face!”

Yesterday in the Atlanta paper our sad Wall Street cover guy had a pony tail!

And then I saw this collage of Wall Street guys on the internet--some not even white, some not even guys!

This guy knew he needed a gimmick if he was gonna make the cover:
When a photo editor saw this Wall Street chick he said, "She looks kinda concerned but not comopletely devastated."

The photographer said, "Wait! I've got another one! She looks like she might overdose."

These two are competing for a magazine cover:


He says, "If I can get my whole hand over my face, I might make the WSJ."

"I know I should look more upset but I'm not really even a trader. I actually just work at Burger King and our stock is doing fine."

"Dude, we gotta stay next to the NYSE sign. We've got a way better chance. Now put your hand on your face! "

"Turn around? No way! I've got a receding hair line from all this Wall Street stress."

"I'm going for REAL tears. Think of poor Miss Kitty and how she fell out of that tree."

"I've got a ticker behind me. I am SO in!"

"What Wall Street crisis? I'm just trying to take a nap."

"This look made that Home Alone kid millions."

Cicumstantial Evidence

I'm pretty sure Leo rolled from back to tummy the other day. But this is the only proof I have:

Training Day at Kroger

We were lucky enough to get a glimpse into the new employee orientation at the post office. Now I’d like to expose the training program for Kroger. But not every Kroger. This is specific to the Kroger here in my suburb of Atlanta, which is prone to hiring complete weirdos. And I’m not the only one who thinks so. When I bring this up to neighbors they’ve got stories about these Kroger characters too. I know; we should just go to a different store. Sometimes we do. But then we think, “Why am I driving all over, paying more money when that Kroger is so close?” Then we go and we remember why.



Training Manager: Welcome, new Kroger employees and those of you who were sent from other stores.

Kroger employee #1: Um, why was I asked to leave my store in Atlanta to come here?

Training Manager: Well, because you’re so very special. You see, customers here at this store like to really interact with the employees. You seemed like someone who would talk to them at length while they’re trying to do their shopping.

Kroger employee #2: Great! You mean like, if a woman comes in who is pregnant, I can ask her all sorts of questions about her pregnancy?

TM: Yes, it’s encouraged! And don’t just ask her the typical stuff like, “When is your due date?” or “Do you know what you’re having?” Ask her about how she thinks she’ll handle the labor.

Kroger employee #2: Awesome. I love to ask things like that. I notice a lot of women go to the produce section. Can I work there?

TM: Sure! You’re now our produce manager. Congrats.

Kroger employee #3 (a female): No fair! I wanted to be the produce manager and chat up all the customers.

TM: Don’t worry. You will be our head cashier. That way, when a customer is checking out and trying to leave, you can really engage them in conversation then.

Kroger employee #3: Can I tell them stories about my childhood? And about dogs I had growing up?

TM: Definitely. And meet your head sacker over here. He’s got plenty of stories to tell the customers too.

Head sacker: That’s right! I like to tell people sad stories from my childhood. Like how I didn’t have any friends and how I still live with my mother.

TM: But your problem, new head sacker, is that you don’t get up in their faces like dairy manager over here.

Dairy manager: Let me show you. See, when you talk to a customer, especially a lady, you’ve got to get up really close. They like that. And then you kind of corner them, see, and you don’t let them leave the aisle. That’s why I work in dairy. It’s harder for them to get away.

Produce manager: That’s the only problem with produce. It’s so open. The customers can easily get away from me. That’s why I often follow them around the store and pop up where the least expect it, like in the floral department.

TM: Good work, new produce manager! I knew you were going to fit in here.

Kroger employee #1: I’m so excited to be working here at the Old Alabama location. At my old store I got in trouble for going up to customers and talking to them all about the buttons on my vest.

TM: Well, don’t worry. Here at this location, you get in trouble if you DON’T tell customers about the buttons on your vest. And you better talk to them for at least seven minutes. They LOVE that!

Head cashier: But I scan items really fast; I’m not sure how long I can keep them up at the cash register.

TM: You have to go slower, woman! And if you finish early, let head sacker be really slow to bag their groceries. Oh, and this is for everyone: make sure somebody is always out in the parking lot, ready to corner customers there too.

Kroger employee #4: Ooh, ooh. Let me! I love to talk to people by their cars when they’re loading bags.

Produce manager: Darn. I knew I chose my department too soon! Training Manager, can I at least stand outside and smoke all over the customers?

TM: Sure! That reminds me, I’ve got to make sure the Salvation Army sends over that smoking Santa to ring the bell at Christmas.

All Kroger employees, in unison: Yes, we love him!

A baby? At a beer festival?

We went to Oktoberfest in Helen, GA this weekend. He may only be five months old, but this wasn't Leo's first beer festival. Here he is last year in my tummy:

No wonder he liked the chicken dance so much. He did it in the womb!

Let's come back next year and bring the baby, we said:

This year: Leo with Daddy

He actually cried a little during the chicken dance

Notice he is trying to lick the board. I think he wanted some beer.

Don't worry, we only let him have one mug of beer. And we didn't let him drive.

Found my Feet

We weren't sure Leo would ever grab his feet, even after several attempts to introduce them to him. We thought maybe his big belly was getting in the way. But the other day, he grabbed on. And he won't let go. It's a little difficult to change his diaper now but at least he always has something to occupy him.