Tell You [a] Little Story

Notetoself:tryreallyhardnexttimenottospillwateronthekeyboard. Butifyoudo,takethetimetoproperlydryitwithoutdelay. Non-workingkeys:theleftshift,tab,capslock,control,andspacebar. Lifejustisn'thesamewithout:thespacebar. Thingsthatendedinfrustrationyesterdayandtoday:Googlesearches, blogcomments,emails,writingofatalk. PeoplewhoseblogsIwantedtocommenton:Suzie,Carly, Kacy,Cjane,Emmie,Austin. PeoplewhoseblogsIwouldhavewantedtocommentonifonlythey allowedcommentsand/orhadwrittenanythinginthelastmonth(or7):Nienie, thejollyporter,neilanddiana,thegreatzookeenee,Marcy, thosecrazyGodfreys. TodoforMonday:gotoBiltmoreAppleStore,buynewkeyboard.

So I'm pregnant, and yeah, I've gained some weight, but I don't yet have an obviously pregnant protruding abdomen. At least I don't think I should look obviously pregnant to someone who doesn't know already. Personally, when I run into someone I know who may have put on a few pounds, I have a strict policy to not ask the potentially awkwafying Question unless she's wearing maternity clothes , just to be safe. So I'm always a little taken aback and mildly offended when someone blurts out, "Are you pregnant?!" I grimace. "I am, but I'm only 14 weeks. Can you tell?" Because, frankly, I think that person is walking in dangerous territory, and I want him to know that I think it was a risky question, because I don't think I look pregnant enough for that to be an okay conversation starter. This conversation played out yesterday with a neighbor/teacher at Elliot's school. It was textbook. "Emily, are you pregnant?" "I a

If today is your birthday, and you are 80, and you are my grandma, happy birthday. Thank you for your part in my library of happy childhood memories. For taking me to King's and buying me coloring books, and in later years, embroidery floss so I could make those awesome friendship bracelets in a cool array of colors. For having a bar on the side of your house (on "The Bar") that I could swing around and think I was cool, even though Sarah was always better at tricks than I. For enduring yet another trip to the cheese factory so we could get squeaky cheese. For having such a glamorous job as weather forecaster at the radio station, and letting me go with you to the weather center, so I could watch how you look up at the clouds and make the forecast. For playing the piano with that one finger missing, and fascinating me with the story of how you cut it off with an axe while chopping wood, and then picked up the finger and carried it to the hospital (always fiercely independ

It hasn't rained in Phoenix for almost 5 months. This weekend, we had one day of winter, and it was awesome.

My life is crazy right now. For some reason, I volunteered to run the silent auction at the school carnival, give a bridal shower, organize a temple trip, teach preschool, and unpack from a vacation all in the same week. Oh, I also decided to potty train my poops-four-times-a-day two-year-old, but that one got postponed real fast. (Note to self: buy more underwear for that kid to replace the ones you threw away today.) Those are just the extra things to do on top of the usual. . .get the car washed and tires rotated, go to Costco, pay the bills, clean the house, help the kid with the homework, go to the PTSA meeting. Why do I list these things? Is it so those who may venture here will think I am very busy, and therefore very important? Why yes, deep down, I think it is. Busyness=importance. No? I ask my working friends: how do you get it all done? Perhaps I speak of such matters because I am turning into my mom (how many times have I heard, "Today was go, go, go. I have not had fi

We stayed in Las Vegas last night. We pushed the stroller, 3 kids, and about 27 bags through the casino at the awesome Gold Coast Hotel and Casino, and we looked so cool. Trust me--much cooler than the blue-hairs playing their electronic slots, cooler than the thirty-something kinda dorky men ahead of me in the hotel registration line talking about how they were going to the strip club, cooler than the blackjack (or whatever) dealers from Taiwan or Argentina who thought they were coming to Vegas to get glamorous and they now realize they work in a smutty, dead-end hellhole of a place. It's not like we're Las Vegas snobs. We are not perfect and readily acknowledge such. Like, when my husband made an illegal U-turn on Flamingo, we found great comfort in the old adage: what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Other than that, our journey was pretty uneventful. We did play the They Might Be Giants ABC's DVD several times, and now wonder along with the Johns, who did put the alp