Boo

My family celebrated Halloween until I was 10; then my parents decided it wasn't exactly extolling Christian virtues so we quit celebrating. But it was too late. I already had 1o years of Halloween infused fun so I just took a hiatus until I was no longer under their roof. Now that I have a little kiddo Halloween festivities have resumed. The Gavinator was the cutest little arachnid! Here are some pictures from tonight (and from his birthday party when I put him in his costume for the grandparents).

The first house where someone was home, our neighbor Trevor and a fellow transportation engineer Ryan works with from time to time. Trevor's cat did NOT like Gavin crawling around in his living room - he arched his back and his fur poofed up a bit; it was hilarious!

Our neighbor Jeff (wife Katie not pictured) and daughter Hattie.

Cruising the halls of Keller Williams (my former office).

Seeing a baby dressed up in a spider costume crawling around was to cute.

Chillin' at Starbucks where we met friend Jenn.

The spider vest didn't bother him so much but the hat drove him nuts as evidenced by the hat on the floor that he is staring at.

And for giggles... can anyone guess what word this cartoon "spells"?

Time

When do we become aware of time? More specifically, when do we become aware of the passing of time? It seems as children time is something we will to go by, and to please go by quickly, already! Time seemed to stand still as a child. I remember my mom granting me 15 minutes to play across the street with the neighbor kids when, judging by the house associated with the memory, I was under 6 years old. That quarter of an hour seemed like all of the time in the world. I also remember it taking forever to eat an apple and that half an apple was a big snack. Oh, to be filled up by half an apple.



The first 18 years went by so slowly although time did pick up its pace in passing as the years went on, especially high school. Time in Junior High felt like it stood still then picked up pace in the high school years; probably because I was starting to enjoy school and was becoming comfortable being me; just residing in my own skin. I wasted so much time wishing I was someone else when the people I wished I was were probably doing some silly self swapping wishing of their own.



On some level I knew that time was precious and limited because my dad died so young, when I was so young, but I still did not appreciate the gift of life and of the limited time we have with the life we are given. My eyes were opened a bit for the first time to the rapid nature of time passage in my senior year of high school, in PE - the class I hated most. It was in the Fall because I planned to get PE over with so I could fully enjoy my senior year and made sure my requirements were met early. In class that day we were jogging some number of miles, probably 3. For at least part of the jog around campus and the adjacent football stadium, McKenzie stadium, and its woods I was with my friend Wendy - or I think was because she was in my little vision. Maybe it was an after school jog which I was crazy enough to do from time to time when I wanted to get into shape.



There we were jogging in the woods near the football field chatting about what ever it was we chatted about - probably boys - when I had the most surreal vision. I felt like I was looking at us from outside my body; I was looking down on us, jogging on the brown dirt path strewn with Evergreen needles, idly chatting, waiting to get on with life and finish this last year of school and I saw it all, that very event, as a distant even of the past. Time shot forward into the future like an arcing flash of light and I was sitting in a rocking chair reflecting on this distant memory from my youth.



That event was just my first real introduction to time passage. I am now keenly aware of how quickly it passes. It gets faster and faster with each passing year feeling shorter and shorter than the previous year. Having a child accelerates time passing like nothing else. The more I want to hold on to the time I have now the swifter it passes. I feel like I'm holding on to sand and trying to hug it close to my body in a vain attempt to keep as much as I can.



My baby is a year old now. A year! Heck, it's been two weeks since his birthday, he almost 13 months old. Was it only yesterday to my mom that I was a baby? That her brood was still in her nest? My nest isn't full but I already anticipate that it will be empty in the blink of an eye.



Part of me wishes that I wasn't so acutely aware of how quickly time passes but if I wasn't aware would I appreciate the time that I have with loved ones less? Can one be in a perpetual state of thanksgiving and awe for what all that one has?

Sleep Training

A new parent has many concerns. First and foremost they want to know their child is healthy. Every sneeze, cough, rash and vomit has the new parent turning to their new parent handbook (for us it was The Baby Book by Dr. Sears. We outgrew that phase. I don't think I've cracked the book open in at least a month.

Some concerns are more about the parents and less about the baby. The biggest of which is, "When will the baby sleep through the night?" It is one of the first questions family, friends, co-workers and strangers will ask, "How does he sleep?" If your answer is a groan as you rub your crusty eyes and absent-mindedly run your hands through your hair which causes you pause as you think not about the baby sleeping but when was the last time you washed your hair, then you will get lots of advice on how to ensure the baby sleeps, or promises that the baby will sleep when he reaches 10 pounds, or 15 pounds or 6 weeks, or 10 weeks or 3 months or 6 months. At some point people just look at you in disbelief. How can he not be sleeping through the night? What on earth am I doing to him to make him wake up?

Gavin hasn't slept through the night since before we went on vacation in April. True. For 2 or 3 glorious weeks he slept 10-12 hours a night. It was amazing. It was short lived. So very short lived. It gave me a taste of rest.

Recently Gavin's schedule has been to wake up 3 times a night. The first feeding didn't bother me because I was awake anyway. 11-3-6 (roughly) has been his schedule. This past week he has been waking up every 2 hours which is obviously unacceptable. So here I am at 1:30 in the morning, awake. Tired. So very tired. He woke up at 11:45 and I went into his room to offer him some milk (ala bovine) but the more I tried to offer him his sippy cup the more he screamed. Seriously. He was screaming. Forget crying. He wanted milk from the tap and he wanted to be in my arms and at said tap. Being the gentle loving mother that I am, I patted his back and spoke to him in soothing tones even though he couldn't hear me over the ear splitting screaming. I eventually left his room and within in moments he was asleep.

And so it has gone for an hour and a half. He screams, I offer his sippy cup and pat his back and provide some comfort and after being rejected I leave and he falls asleep for a few minutes. He has been asleep for 30 minutes now but I don't know if I should try and fall asleep or not. As soon as I drift off I just know he's going to wake up.

The next time he wakes up he get milk from the tap since it will have been 5 hours since he went to bed for the night. That is the goal. To get him to sleep at least 5 hours between feedings. He is certainly old enough. His doctor had me do this sleep training after his 9 month check up. She said it would take 3 nights and she was right. She also said right around a year or so to expect more sleep issues. Right again.

So we are back to sleep training. During the day I am making a great effort to feed him more solids and to give him a big dinner so his tummy will stay full longer.

I really need this to work. I am exhausted. Ryan really needs this to work too because I'm going to start calling on him on weekends to give me a night off. I can't believe I function as well as I do with so little sleep. Granted waking up with Gavin now is nothing at all like waking up with him when he was a newborn. Then just feeding him took at least 45 minutes. That was crazy.

I'm going to go to sleep now. And Gavin will take that as his cue to wake up. And round and round we go.

Birthday Fun

Here are some pictures from the Gavinator's first birthday party.

As my friend Wendy says the Costco cake is just an excuse to have a birthday party.



He wasn't sure what to do with the cupcake. He stuck his fingers in the frosting and examined them for a bit before sticking them in his mouth.



Still dainty with the frosting.



Back for more



I couldn't capture how hard he was sucking on his fingers in the photo. I half expected his fingers to come out just bones like in cartoons when they pop a chicken leg in their mouth and pull out a bone.





I think he likes the sugar



SO MUCH FUN!!!





Thumb sucking duo



Gavin's first balloons from the baby-whisperer herself, Jenn



Gavin & Laura



Gavin, Master Clapper



Sweet Family





Another of Gavin and his cousin Laura

Big Boy

Gavin's hair was getting quite long. I tried to trim it myself but the diagonal bang look didn't work on him; I don't think it works on many people. I was going to take him to a barber to trim his hair before his birthday but I am so glad it didn't work out. Well, it didn't work out with timing and I am too cheap even if timing wasn't an issue. I wasn't going to pay $14 for a baby hair cut. Really.

Monday I finally got around to his hair cut. Cut, Cuts and Kicks is a local barbershop up here on the Hill. I walk by it often on my way to the former Galaxie Espresso, now V3 (bought by Victrola coffee, so the coffee is the same) for a caffeine fix. I popped in and waited my turn. It was getting late in the afternoon and Gavin's mood was deteriorating by the second. He wanted to crawl on the floor in the hair trimmings. The barber swept up the hair shavings but when you are cutting hair its a losing battle so I tried to keep Gavin occupied with lots of monster noises while Mommy 'ate' his tummy (Gavin's, not the barber). The young boys were probably annoyed that they heard, "I'm gonna get you! Argh, rowr, yum, yum, yum," followed by shrieking baby laughter instead of the sports casters on ESPN. Sports casters are lame, anyway. Their jokes are lame and they talk to each other as if the entire viewing audience is in on their private jokes. NEWSFLASH: We aren't! We are watching the FOOTBALL game and don't care about the LAME Basketball jokes you are making!

So, it was finally Gavin's turn so I sat in the barber chair and held him. He was surprisingly still for having an electric razor whirring around his head. I told the barber that I didn't want him to have a big boy hair cut. He asked if I wanted him to take the sides in a little. I said, "Yeah. But just a little, though."

Apparently "Big boy haircut" is not an official hair style and I should have been a little more specific because my baby is now a little boy! Ryan keeps telling me that even though he looks older he doesn't act older. Men just don't understand.

Here he is, my baby:

Neurotic

I'm not a perfectionist. Not even close. I've heard it argued that people who live in squalor are sometimes perfectionists. It's not a complete stretch. When one wants everything to be perfect - the house, the car, the food, the clothes and they realize it is impossible they don't know where to put their efforts in cleaning as it all seems pointless because they can never maintain their ideal.

That still doesn't describe me because we don't live in squalor; not even close. It's a bit disheveled but I try to keep it clean even though papers stack up and pens and glasses are left scattered about but I will still vacuum, clean the sinks and scrub the toilet. Then when I'm cleaning the microwave I notice the knobs on the stove are a bit icky. I pop 'em off and clean then. Then I notice the pulls on the kitchen cabinets need to be wiped down. Then I notice the seam between the counter top and the cook top has an accumulation of food in the crevice so I scrub it and scrub it and when that doesn't work I get out the box of toothpicks to complete the job. Before you know it I've scrubbed the kitchen floor on my hands and knees because I mop so infrequently that a regular mopping just won't do and the base molding was also in need of some spot cleaning and *poof* an hour just flew out the window. And for what? A kitchen that will stay clean until the next meal is prepared?

Lame.

I'm sitting at the dining room table as I write this with my back to a messy kitchen that I can't clean right now for fear of waking Gavin and I face a mass of papers on the table that I'm not going through because I really don't want to and beyond the pile of papers are three baskets of laundry in the living room that need to be folded that aren't going to be folded tonight because I need to vacuum the area rug before I fold clothes (it's fold them on the area rug or on the kitchen table and it will be way easier to vacuum the area rug than go through the mountains of papers). But I can't vacuum because it is midnight and I would wake Ryan and Gavin. That would make for two grumpy guys. Not so good.

I did get one thing accomplished today (aside from washing and drying all of the clothes): clean sheets on the bed. Clean sheets are so nice; I really should change them twice a week but it is such a hassle because I take them off in the morning but never put them back on until the evening when Ryan is ready to go to bed. You think I would learn to put the sheets on before he is ready for bed.

Not for the reason you think. It is not about getting the bed ready before the bread winner is ready for his hard earned sleep. It is about putting the sheets on the way I want them on. It about getting them on without being hassled by said bread winner.

A few things from nursing school have stuck with me. Making a perfect bed, as it pertains to sheets only, has stayed with me. Anyone who has gone through nurse's aide training or nursing school is taught the fine art of making a hospital bed (and often making a bed with an immobile person in it). I used to tuck the top sheet in on both sides and at the foot of the bed and make perfect 45 degree corners at the foot of the bed. Making corners with the sheets on my bed at home is borderline certifiable craziness. Since I can't stand the top sheet tucked in I no longer tuck them in but each corner of the bottom sheet has to be secure in its attachment to the mattress; the elastic has to reach all the way around the corner and rest on the underside of the mattress. There can be no buckling and bunching on top at the corners. The sheet needs to be stretched and taut, no waves and wrinkles.

I'm not done. The top sheet. It needs to be smooth and wrinkle free with an equal overhang on each side of the bed with the foot board end of the sheet tucked neatly down the foot board but not under the mattress because that would be silly since we don't like our sheets tucked in.

Believe it or not I've dialed back the crazy as related to the bed sheets because I used to have specifics for the pillow cases as well (the seam of the pillow case and the opening of the pillow case all had to be just so).

If there was a question before I think the above settled it: I am neurotic about the sheets on my bed. But there is a catch. They only have to be perfect the when I first put them on. The day after I put the clean sheets on I don't go to any great measures to make the bed. I pull the top sheet up and make a half hearted attempt to pull the duvet up over the pillows. That's it. So, yeah, I'm a little crazy. I admit it.

People, what do we do with crazy people?

a) poke them with a stick
or
b) let them be

You smart folks chose 'b', I just know you did.

What does my beloved husband do? He pokes me with a stick! When we are making the bed at night with the clean sheets he enjoys trying to get under the top sheet before I've smoothed out the wrinkles. He likes to throw his pillow on the top sheet as I'm trying to put the top sheet on. He likes to do the last corner because he knows he can't do it as well as I do - he always says its impossible to get all four corners on.

I know I'm a bit crazy over this matter of seeming little significance but let me have my bit of crazy! I'm not hurting anyone. Not yet at least.

Don't mess with my sheets.

Trains

My friend Tauryn had this posted on her Facebook. It made me laugh.

Eye Catching

I don't have much to say about it. It just caught my eye, that's all.

Eh?!

The Vice Presidential debate is over and the speculation about how Sarah Palin would do has been put to rest. We all know how she did because we as a nation watched with baited breath. But how did she do, really? John McCain was talking to supporters at a rally today saying, "How about Sarah Palin? How did she do last night? Wasn't she great? Eh? Eh? Eh?" It was almost as if he himself was in shock that she did so well (and by well I mean she didn't completely choke).

He, as a 72 year old, should really re-think the use of "Eh" in his speech. If his waxen, death warmed over look doesn't highlight that he is well into his seventh decade on this planet the use of, "Eh" certainly does the trick. Another word I would like to strip from his and Sarah's vocabulary: "maverick". Gag me. Like, totally. With a spoon.

I was very disappointed in the debate last night for many reasons. First, I was really hoping to be able to laugh at Sarah Palin. Yes, I know that sounds very mean spirited, but, I don't care. I was expecting something along the lines of the Katie Couric interviews. I figured if she choked when asked hard hitting questions like what her choice of reading materials included before joining the McCain ticket then I just knew that she would spontaneously combust when asked about foreign policy or health care. Second, she used her time to answer the question given to her to talk about whatever struck her fancy. Third, because she was so warm and charming (to which I say puh-leeze) and was able to speak (in circles like a dog chasing his tail, mind you) the American sheeple thought she was wonderful.

But, alas, there was no spontaneous combustion; nor were there answers to the moderators questions. There were lots of sound bites and "ya know" and "joe six pack" and soccer mom references. And for the love of all things dignified QUIT WINKING! Is she trying to seduce the vote? Is there some inside joke we are supposed to be laughing at?

Me and my home girls forsook our bible study to watch the Biden v. Palin smack down. Joe Biden wasn't the only one sighing and Sarah Palin wasn't the only one rolling her eyes last night. We agreed that watching Biden and Palin on the same screen seemed a bit surreal. There was the elder statesman of Joe Biden giving clear, concise answers to the moderators questions. He spoke from experience and knowledge and it seemed as if he knew what he was talking about. He spoke with conviction and I believed him. In stark contrast to Joe Biden's direct answers were Sarah Palin's "answers" to the questions - if she chose to actually answer the question posed to her, that is - where she spoke in circles and was trying so hard to connect with the "average American" but when she quit speaking we knew no more about her and McCain's policies than when she first opened her mouth.

And just who is this average American she is trying to connect with? Is the average American duped by her? Does it only take saying, "You betcha" and calling herself a maverick and a soccer mom to get to the White House? Really? I for one do not want an average American as President or Vice President. I want an exceptional American to lead this country and I believe that one who is exceptionally bright would have no problem agreeing to a live interview.

As painful as the Katie Couric interviews were to watch (and as great as the SNL sketches with Tina Fay were to watch) they did help Sarah Palin in the debates because the bar was set so low that all she had to do to be declared victorious was to give a lucid response without the gleam of terror or panic in her eyes that Katie Couric's hard hitting questions seemed to elicit.

This election is momentous in that it is historic with a black man running on the Democratic ticket and a woman running for VP on the Republican ticket but it also seems like a sick joke. McCain was so desperate to capture the Hilary vote that instead of looking for a qualified candidate to run with he looked for a woman and is trying to make her into something she is not: qualified. Who would have ever thought that someone with less than a full term as Governor of the 4th smallest state in the Union and 6 years as Mayor of a town that is a fraction of the size of the school district I grew up in, could be so close to the Oval office?

Unreal.

I wonder how I would have voted if McCain had selected a different running mate. Would he have had a fighting chance? Is Palin's supposed success in last night's debate enough to make up ground they lost after her interviews were aired? Is she going to be stuck in a closet from now until the election?

Bling Bling Baby and some other stuff

I am once again wearing my wedding ring. I took it off shortly into my pregnancy because of weight gain and swelling. Gavin is almost a year old and ring didn't fit still, even though at one point I weighed 10 pounds less than when I got pregnant. What can I say? I have puffy sausage fingers. But now my puffy sausage fingers have a little bling.

It was with a mixture of defeat and eagerness that I took my beloved ring to the jeweler on Wednesday. I was eager to have my sparkly bauble back but at the same time I was waiving the white flag of defeat by having the ring re-sized (up 1.5 sizes).


My jeweler told me to take the ring to Ben Bridge or Zales in the mall because they have jewelers in the store and could fix it quickly. The Ben Bridge people told me it was going to cost $95 to have the ring re-sized so I took it to Zales and they told me it was going to cost $200. Tough call. Also, Zales was going to charge another $200 to secure the stone because it was visibly loose (I dropped it on the kitchen floor that very morning). Ben Bridge was going to charge $50 to secure the stone. Another tough call.


After I dropped the ring off at Ben Bridge I decided to check out the new and improved Southcenter mall. Wow. It was under construction for a long time and I like outcome. Hmm, now that I think about it I may have liked it so much because it was in the middle of the day on Wednesday and there wasn't a horde of teenagers clogging the walking paths.


The sales people at the clothing stores all looked like teenagers, though. So young! I was, and still am, on a mission to find a purse that will take the place of carrying both a purse and a diaper bag. I went in and out of most stores. I found a lovely messenger bag that would have worked beautifully at Macy's but it was more than I wanted to spend at $78. For a messenger bag? I think not. If I didn't have an obscene number of purses as is it would be easier to justify buying but I can't. Especially now that Ryan's work with his friend is drawing to a close and his work with the city begins. Ryan's friend paid him every month but the city may not pay Ryan until the work is done, 3 months from now. Not to worry, we have a small stash to pay bills but I don't think buying another bag would be the most prudent thing to do. Although I would be helping the economy by buying a bag. Just doing my American duty!


My tour through the mall made me want to cling to Gavin and his babyhood all the more. The stores that obviously cater to young teens were borderline obscene. And dark, and loud and smelly. I never, ever, set foot in the stores that blare music and have just enough light so you can see the clothes on the rack in front of you but not enough to the clothes on the rack across the aisle from you. Since I was on a quest for a messenger type bag I had no choice but to visit these scary, scary stores. The music was so loud that WELCOME. IF I CAN HELP YOU FIND SOMETHING LET ME KNOW!" I responded, "I'M LOOKING FOR A MESSENGER STYLE BAG." The sales person carefully studied my lips as I was shouting as another tool to help them decipher what I was yelling - the music was that loud. I didn't complain about the music because I'm in the over 20 crowd that clearly doesn't belong in those stores; and I really don't belong while pushing a stroller with my little guy. If the music wasn't so loud I would have turned the excursion into a learning experience.

Me: "Gavin, do you hear that music? It is too loud. Value your hearing."
Gavin: "Ma ma ma ma! Di di di di!"
Me: "Those posters on the walls objectified women and young men. Women are to be valued and respected. You, too are to be valued and respected and you have value and worth even when you keep your shirt on."
Gavin: "Da da da da! Eeeeee!"


I could not get over the clothing in the stores that catered to teenage girls. The underwear was sexy, if not a bit slutty and the skirts were short and bit on the slutty side. Same goes for the shirts. I know that I have a boy but there are going to be girls all around him wearing this stuff! And it's not just the girls clothing that gets me its the advertising for the boys (mens) clothing; the guys with their washboard abs, wearing their pants partially unzipped with a scantily clad woman fawning all over him. Can't they at least try to be somewhat subtle with the sex sells?

Another shocker, a book that was compiled of advice for teenage girls from a regular column in Seventeen magazine. It was all about sex. I know kids are having sex at younger and younger ages and I'm not opposed to sex ed (heck, look at Bristol Palin) but can't we encourage the kids to delay gratification? It seems like a lot of parallels could be drawn between how we, as Americans, want everything NOW and our economic crisis. Wall street is just a reflection of our greed in mainstream America.

This could get me a lot of flack but I don't care. Yes, I know the CEO's are greedy little bastards but you know who else is greedy? Me. I want a specialty coffee drink, I want $100 shoes, I want a cheap shirt so I can have 3 shirts instead of one really nice shirt. I want a nice house with nice decorations. I want my son to have cute clothes and a cute Halloween costume. It's not bad to want all of this stuff but when we put those material wants above all else and we spend more than we make then we create a life that is built on one huge lie. Then our neighbors see what we have and they want what we have while we in turn want what they have so we are constantly consuming and consuming and are never satisfied. We want more, more stuff to fill the void that grows larger and larger as we try to cram it full of useless stuff.

Now that I re-read what I just wrote it seems I took a huge leap from the sexualization of kids to the current economic crisis without connecting the dots as well as I think they are connected in my head. Too bad you can't jump in my head because it is crystal clear up there - to me. Eh. I would try to write more to connect the dots but the dog is looking like she's going to barf and Gavin just went down for a nap so I should finish this post I've been working on for a couple of days now and go get some housework done while I have some free time.

Going on Strike

It is day three of the strike and there is no end in sight. It is with much tears, crying, and whining that the strike is being enforced. Never mind there the one who is on strike has red, weary looking eyes that are rubbed frequently nor that the striking party's bouncing nature, if you will, takes a serious turn south just before the eye rubbing commences. All signs point to a state of fatigue, tiredness, a state that shouts: "I need a nap!"

Being the dutiful, loving mother that I am, I give my precious baby boy some warm milk for the tummy (which I should probably not be doing before nap time because it is just ingraining the whole eat before bedtime thing which I know is not good... but one battle at a time, please), and gently lie him down in his crib. And as I oh-so-gently place him in his crib he arches his back and screams.

As he grows I know that his nap schedule will change. This is a fact that I can accept. I have accepted that he no longer goes back to sleep a mere 30 minutes after waking up in the morning. I can not accept his refusal of the first morning nap when he is clearly tired. What else am I supposed to make of a crying, grumpy, eye rubbing, ear tugging baby boy?

I'm hoping most of this is just related to teething since the little G is has 3, maybe 4 teeth, busting through right now. Tylenol and medicated teething swabs help a night and I just numbed up his gums on the side he sticks his tongue to chew on (it's super cute, btw). Keep your fingers crossed! Well, it's been about 15 minutes since I swabbed his gums and now he is at least lying down and not hollering. He is talking though.

He's saying, "A di. A di. Bwaa. A-dah, eh, A-dah. Da. A-yay."
Translation, "Neener, neener, I'm not going to sleep mom, even though I'm tired. You can put me in my crib but you can't make me sleep. Why don't you come get me out the crib and go to the gym all of 10 minutes away so I can fall asleep on the car ride over."

Really. Yesterday to let me know he was not going to take a nap he screamed and screamed and screamed some more. Between screaming sessions I went in to comfort him and to make sure he was ok (he even got some Tylenol and a teething swab). Nothing. On one of my trips in he had a poopy diaper (I knew the second I opened the door to his room). I can't blame him for not wanting to sleep in a dirty diaper - but I can take issue with him not sleeping in the fluffy clean diaper I put him. Nothing. No sleep, not even close. More weeping and gnashing of gums and some teeth was to be had.

I had enough of trying to get him to sleep, and I couldn't take anymore screaming so I packed my gym bag, grabbed the G man and we drove all of 10 minutes to the gym. He fell asleep on the car ride over. !

! Can you feel the frustration? How is a car seat more comfortable than a crib with a nice mattress? I took him to the kiddie day care and laid him down in one of their cribs but he didn't sleep. He did however get to crawl and play for a solid 90 minutes which led to a 2 hour nap when we got home.

The way this is shaping up he's not going to sleep. He is standing up again. I think I'll load up the car with the Exersaucer and Johnny Jump Up to return to Ryan's former co-worker who so graciously lent them to us. Hopefully he will sleep in the car so he won't be a total grumpy pants at our PEPS (mommy group) this afternoon.

I love being a mom but I do not this fighting over naps business. Why fight a nap? A nap is one of the most beautiful, underrated pleasures in life. I should have been born in Spain so I could enjoy guilt free siestas.

Not For the Faint of Heart

At this very moment I am on-line looking for a purse. I don't feel like going from store to store to find one. Ebags didn't have anything, Overstock had nothing, craigslist had nothing and freecycle had nothing. OK, they had purses but I'm looking for one I can wear across the body and one that is HUGE so I can carry one bag instead of a purse and a diaper bag. The diaper bag I use is a small backpack and its not exactly my style.

So why am I telling you about something as mundane as shopping for a purse? I'll tell you why. The results on e-bay were too many so I sorted them from priced lowest to highest. That wasn't helpful since there were a ton of little $0.99 coin purses. So I sorted high to low and was going to go that route.

Warning: If you have a bad heart (or you are a guy) STOP READING!!!

I saw a purse, a purse, a purse, a purse, a purse, a p-u-r-s-e that had the buy-it-now price of
$78,000.

FOR A PURSE!!!

You could buy a home in some parts of the country for that much money. You could feed an army for that much money. You could buy 78 overpriced at $1,000 purses for that much money. You could buy a couple of cars for that much money. You could (almost) add another story to your house for that much money. You could pay for 7.8 expensive $10,000 weddings for that much money. You could take the ultimate vacation (with your entire family and all of your friends) for that much money.

Maybe the person who buys the $78,000 purse would think my idea of an ultimate vacation for family and friends would be slummin' it.

Who buys a $78,000 purse? Really? Who?

Well, I'm not going to find my $30 or under purse if I keep writing and looking at $78,000 purses. At least they were cute. (Oh, yeah. There was more than one outrageously priced purse).

*****

I just logged on and showed Ryan the purse and I didn't put the right price down. The purse is not $78,000. It is $78,999. But what is an extra $999?

You Can Move to Seattle, Part II

I don't think I have much more to say about moving to Seattle but I said I would write part II of the post so, here I am writing...

When you do move to Seattle you can visit the Bal Mar in Ballard. My friend Krissy just celebrated her big Three-oh with friends at the Bal Mar; we went there this time last year, too and I remember it quite vividly because it was a warmish day and I was pregnant and none to happy about my state of ginormousness (no, it's not a word - yet) nor was I pleased that I could not enjoy one of their super cool cocktails, one of which is I'm a gimlet that I recall Krissy ordered.

Two other girlfriends who celebrated the big Two-nine with Krissy last year enjoyed cocktails are now in the other camp: Camp Preggo. I am SO happy I'm not in that camp right now. I can walk, I can eat brie, I can sleep (Gavin permitting), I can go more than 90 minutes without running to the bathroom to pee, I can breath (I really took breathing for granted before being pregnant).

Tonight I tried I'm a gimlet. I don't know what a gimlet is or why I would want to be one but the drink sure is tasty. It's like a mojito minus the sweetness. Yum. It's a tad strong, though and of course it was made even stronger by my empty stomach. So, word to the wise: eat first, drink second. But, really, who doesn't know that?

*****

I've been on Beacon Hill almost three years now. It's hard to believe that so much time has elapsed here. The house feels like home but the neighborhood doesn't give me a homey vibe. I know my neighbors and they are nice but it's not the same as West Seattle. This is definitely a neighborhood in transition. There isn't much to do up here although there are more places within walking distance than in our old neighborhood. There are three coffee shops, a library, and a smattering of places to eat that all close early and aren't really places where you would feel comfortable inviting friends and hanging out at.

As of November 1st I will have lived in Seattle for 7 years. SEVEN! Can you believe that? It's hard to believe that I've been up here half as long as I lived in Vancouver (14 years). Seattle is becoming my third home. Ryan and I were driving past a cemetery the other day and I told him that if I went before him he would have to spread my ashes in three places.

At Sunset Beach in Coos Bay (technically it's in Charleston) because my dad is buried in Coos Bay, in the Columbia River in Vancouver because that is where I spent the bulk of my growing up years and in the Puget Sound because that is where I'm at now. He balked not at the idea of me dying (because we were talking way out in the future) but at the idea of having to drive me in ashen form to Coos Bay and Vancouver. I often joke that it is a miracle that Ryan dated me while I was in Vancouver and he was in Seattle because he hates driving that much. He really loved me to drive almost 3 hours to see me.

So, here my wishes are in writing although I really doubt this blog will be in existence or if blogs period will be in existence in 60 or 7o years when I kick it. 70 years. I would be 101. Gavin would be 71! That's crazy! OK, I can't think about this anymore. I don't want to think about my little guy who is turning one next month as a 70 year old; it makes me sad to know that he is growing each day and turning into such a little boy. Of course, I would be really sad if he wasn't growing and developing.

What do you know? This post is being interrupted by a crying baby. I'm kind of glad he is waking up because I went out tonight and didn't get to kiss him good night.

You Can Move to Seattle Now

The storm has passed and it is now safe to move to Seattle. The storm was, of course, my temper tantrum over the less than stellar weather we were having. The clouds parted and the sun shone brightly again on Seattle turning it into the sparkling gem we all love and adore.

Today felt like the first day of Autumn. It was gray all day and the air had a cool bite to it but that's ok because we were given a few good summery days. My arms are open and ready to accept the rainy and blustery days ahead.

Fall is actually one of my favorite seasons. I have so many fond memories of overcast, wet Autumn weekends as a child. Mom would take us to the neighborhood club and we would go swimming for hours and walk home with wet hair and to warm us up mom would make hot cocoa and we would bake cookies. Instead of a fence we had a long row of arbor vitae in the back yard that created a lush green appearance in our back yard. The green grass was bordered by the green arbor vitae and was partially canopied by towering Evergreen trees; the back yard positively glowed green.

That glowing backyard and the plains are two of the things I miss about Vancouver. I didn't think seeing flat lands would be something I missed until I came up to Seattle, built on hills and in valleys and in the shadows of two mountain ranges. It is nice to be able to see beyond your nose sometimes.

I miss the Columbia River Gorge and the beautiful hikes to be had there. Sure, there are lots of places to hike up here but that would involve going out and looking for them. I had a friend in Vancouver who was always up for a drive to the Gorge, actually she was the one doing the calling and urging.

This post is being interrupted by a crying and I suspect hungry baby. I'll write part two tomorrow. Or not. I'll write it when I write it.

FINALLY

In the evenings after Gavin goes to bed you can usually find me on-line writing, reading, surfing the web in general. Lately I have been attempting to make a photobook. There are so many sites and they all send me coupons that are really specific.

Free shipping! for new customers on first order

45% off all orders! on all orders $100 or more

Save $25! when you buy an 8x12 book with premium leather cover


Save $50! for new customers on first order of 8x12 book with premium leather cover that total is greater than $200


For weeks now I have been attempting to make a photo book for Grandparents Day. Yes, there is a holiday for Grandparents - it's this weekend so sorry, grandparents, your photo books are going to be late. But don't blame me - blame snapfish and picaboo and Costco but mostly snapfish.


I have a feeling the problem isn't 100% Snapfish; I just may have a bit to do with the problem. Shocking, I know.

After spending hours upon hours upon hours uploading all of my photos from the external hard drive - and I mean all photos, starting with the digitals ones going back to 1999 - I then start to experiment with the kind of book I wanted to make while keeping it within my budget (3 sets of grandparents plus one aunt who is like a grandmother to Ryan - it adds up).

It took me a while but I got the hang of how to make a book. I was able to select the photos, arrange them and wa-la, a book was made! Now that the book was made the only step left in the long drawn out exhausting, tear inducing process was to pay for it.

All I had to do was pay for the stupid book. Enter in my credit card information and click 'submit'.

I'm a smart cookie. I entered my credit card number, expiration date, secret code, all of my billing information then I took a deep breath and was ready to be done with the making of this book and clicked on 'submit'.

A message in red lettering pops up on the screen telling me that they could not process my credit card. I double checked the information and resubmitted it only to have the same annoying message pop up and scream at me. (Red lettering is equal to screaming).

After checking the number again I took a closer look to the the icons next to the credit card number field. Visa, American Express, Something Else and Something Else.

Do you know what was missing? MasterCard!

Snapfish doesn't take MasterCard!

I was livid! How dare Snapfish not take my one and only credit card? Why isn't there a huge disclaimer that pops up BEFORE you make a photobook that all of your time will be a colossal waste of time if you happen to have a MasterCard.


******

Here it is a week later. The books are done; I think I used Shutterfly, shutterfish, shuttersomething. It went just fine. They cost a little more but if I would have started with them it would have been so much easier.

Does anyone out there have a company they like for photo printing and the like?

Tropical Storms and Stormy Toddlers

Today I experienced my very first Tropical Storm as did Ryan and Gavin (I don't think his baby calendar has a sticker for 1st Tropical Storm). Tropical Storm Hannah rolled through Great Falls, Virginia last night and stayed through the early part of this afternoon. Last night we had tickets at Wolf Trap, an outdoor theater, to see Les Miserables. My sister-in-law bought tickets for Ryan (and me) for his birthday and for her mom and step-dad for her mom's birthday.

The theater was quite amazing since there is outdoor seating and covered seating as well. My sister-in-law bought covered seats since it was predicted to rain that night. Good call on her part. It didn't just rain, it rained. It was a veritable deluge. The poor folks on the grass got soaked! But the show was so great they stayed through the rain. Unlike the rain we get at home it wasn't cold, the air was warm and the rain didn't chill.

Just before we took our seats I gave a brief synopsis of the story for the group and Ryan filled in the gaps. Last night was my third time seeing the show and it was Ryan's fourth and I can say without hesitation that we would go again in a heart beat. It is our favorite show. "Cats" is our least favorite show.

If you have never seen Cats, don't bother. Blech. B-o-r-i-n-g. Correction. It is B-O-R-I-N-G!
We stayed for the first two hours of the show and left at intermission.

OK, maybe the first part of the show was less than two hours but it felt like an eternity. We couldn't follow the story, the music, eh... except for "Memories", it was the last song before intermission.

If you have never seen Les Miserables you should GO, GO, GO, now! Get the music beforehand and familiarize yourself with the music, read the book, watch the movie. It is FANtastic!

But back the fierceness that is Hannah. The thick of her storminess came late this morning, just in time for my niece's birthday party. Local streets were flooded, power went out but we didn't notice because my sister-in-law's has a generator for such events and flash floods were predicted. If there were flash floods we didn't see any. It got pretty windy but I've seen windier conditions. The rain was pretty heavy so we were all quite impressed which puzzled the local East Coasters.

Ryan and I were sitting in the screened in porch listening to the cacophony the pouring rain was creating when someone stepped out and made small talk with us. I told him we were just enjoying the downpour since we don't get much rain like this at home. You could see the question on his face before he asked, "Don't you live in Seattle?" My brother-in-law asked the same thing, "Don't you get this all the time in Seattle?" Nope. Ours is a more constant drizzle, we don't often get the rain that blows in sideways by the bucketful.

Other than the tropical storm today we've had it pretty good as far as the weather is concerned. It has been hot, high 80's, low 90's and there has been humidity but not taking a bath humidity. It was pleasant enough that we were able to go the Great Falls National Park yesterday (long before Hannah rolled in) and walked high above the Potomac River where George Washington rode his horse and devised a plan to make the river navigable to increase trade and solidify the ties between the then sovereign states. His company made canals to circumvent the impassible portions of the river and locks to get boats and ships from the top of a fall to the bottom of a falls. I was a good tourist and read the placards.

Great Falls is very impressive. You can't think of Multnomah, Silver or Snoqualmie Falls as a comparative falls as they have an impressive height from which they cascade down. Great Falls can't hold a candle to the Northwest Falls height but the 'our' falls have nothing on Great Falls in terms of width. The Potomac has a great span, I would say you if you lined our falls side by side to cross the Great Falls you would need at least five of them.

On Thursday we drove in to D.C., less than a thirty minutes drive, and toured the National Crime and Punishment Museum. I would recommend this museum IF you have already been to D.C. and toured all of the free museums AND if you find Law & Order (pick one), CSI (pick one), Cold Case, Without a Trace, any crime show really except Matlock. If you like Matlock you probably aren't going to be up for hoofing it around D.C. anyway. I would not recommend buying the audio portion of the tour as it is really lame. After going through the EMP (Experience Music Project) in Seattle and listening to that audio tour nothing compares.

Friday we went back to D.C. with my Karl and Suzanne, (FIL & stepMIL) and went to the International Spy Museum. I would highly recommend this museum, even if you have not been to all of the free ones. We saw a camera that could take a picture of a document and reduce its size to that which would fit in punctuation, like this period: . Really. An entire document. The camera was called something along the lines of a dot camera, pretty creative.

So here I sit after the storm, after the party filled with toddlers who turn stormy after food, fun and candy and cake and ice cream. Gavin ate a dinner of oatmeal with mashed up blueberries and raspberries and bananas and one prune - just one prune. It was such a messy, sticky affair and as a result he got a bath tonight where he is really getting the hang of splashing the water. Fun for him, wet for me. OK, I have fun too, even when he stands up and hangs onto me with his slippery wet self.

He is now asleep and I'm ready to crash even though it is only 8:49 pm. My sister-in-law and her family are upstairs putting Erika to bed and they have Anna, the new baby we are here to meet. Ryan, his mom and step-dad are playing Hearts in the kitchen and Ryan's dad and step-mom went to a park. That leaves me alone in the living room and do you want to know what that means?

I JUST TURNED THE TV OFF!!!

Woo-hoo.

We are in someone else's house so the TV doesn't bother me too much but when it's at my house and people are visiting it drives me bonkers but I never want to say anything because they are my guests and they are usually on vacation so why shouldn't they watch TV?

That is one other reason I want to move the TV downstairs. That way if someone wants to watch TV then they can go downstairs and watch to their hearts content and I can stay up stairs and not have my ears subject to the constant noise of the TV. That and I tend to get sucked into the programs.

Everyone eventually returned to the living room, I finally had a chance to hold Anna while she slept. Ryan programmed Kristi & John's new cell phones and I went into the kitchen to finish this post. I guess I'm being anti-social right now. Oh, well. We can't all be together all of the time.

Tomorrow is Anna's baptism and another party. It should be great since the storm is passed and the sun is set to shine again. Maybe we can play some croquet although I'm a bit afraid to go out in the grass because the have ticks out here and copperhead snakes.

Journey of Self Discovery

Does 10 1/2 months seem awfully early for a baby to discover his nostrils? I think so. It has only been a day or two and the little G thinks it is wonderful that God gave him such a great play thing right on his face! As much as I want to discourage nose picking it is pretty cute to see him with his finger pointing at his nose . Ryan really thinks its cute and is trying to catch him with his finger up his nose for a great picture.

***

We finally got a good nose pick shot in the train at SeaTac so now I've moved onto discouraging his nostril expeditions. How does, "Gavin, we don't pick our noses," sound? And I do say 'we' because he has taken in interest in Mommy and Daddy's noses as well. I imagine our noses are much better for exploration because his fingers are so little and our nostrils are cavernous compared to his but I don't care how mean he thinks I am, my nostrils are off limits.

Hopefully by discouraging it now we can avoid the really gross nosepicking when he gets older and has better fine motor skills. Wishful thinking.

Don't Move to Seattle

What is up with this funky weather we are having up here in Seattle? Did Nature forget that this is August? August in Seattle is the BEST month! Rather, it is supposed to be the best month. Nothing but glorious blue skies allowing the sun's golden rays to tickle the water of the Puget Sound, Lakes Washington and Union giving the water logged, blinded by incessant gray Seattleites beautiful twinkling blue diamonds to gaze upon as we drive to work, school, the beach. There is not much that I find as stunning as Seattle on a sunny day. On the flip side when the sun is hidden behind a thick swatch of clouds the twinkling blue diamonds turn into lifeless gray bodies of water reflecting the gloom of the gray clouds and gray buildings that flank the waters edge.

Summer in the Northwest is not merely a time for fun in the sun. It is a time that we NEED. When else are we going to get Vitamin D?! When, I ask! We need the sun to sustain us through the long, gray, wet year. October - May and often into June and July SUCK in the Northwest. Sure we will get teasers, a couple of dry days coupled with blue skies in the winter are cold days for sure but they are BLUE days when you can see the foreign seldom seen yellow orb in the sky that people in other parts of the country know as the sun. On these days when the sun is out and it streams its bright, glorious light into your house or car you can feel the warmth and life it is giving. But these days are so rare. So very, very rare.

We usually get a couple of nice days thrown at us at random in the Spring when the sun is out, the clouds are few and fluffy and it gets just warm enough to roll down the windows in the car. I bet the homicide rates on these days drops drastically. Who wants to be all angry and go on a killing spree when the sun is out?

But then the clouds come back and we plunge back into darkness. We go on living. Living in the rain. Living in the cold. Living in the damp, the wet, the rainy, the mildewy weather. We go on living because we know, we know that once late July is here we will see the sun. All of that rain we put up with will keep everything around us, save the grass, green while we enjoy the heat of our incredibly short summer. We live for summer. Summer in the Northwest is like a glimpse into heaven. It gets just hot enough on some days that we are reminded that we do have it good, because even on the really, really hot days you still can't fry an egg on the sidewalk.

There are many a soul who have moved to Seattle after their torrid love affair with the summer. They see the beautiful, sleek Seattle with perky people everywhere. Our summer perk is a natural one; its when the clouds slither back that we turn to our dark, rich, coffee elixir to get us through the days that start dark and end dark.

Word to the wise: if you want to move to Seattle after visiting late July, August or September - DON'T. Come back in November when our basements are flooding and our glorious trees sway in the heavy winds and threaten to topple and take down our houses. Come back in the winter (or fall or spring) and I DARE you to wear light colored pants; you will after all only be walking from your car to the office (or store or mall), what harm could possibly come from that?

Bwa-ha-ha-ha.

It's days like these, usually preceded by a week of rain and gloom, that make Eastern Washington or Arizona look appealing. Until you learn that they have days that get well above 100 degrees. No thanks. I'll just complain about the bad days when they come in our incomprehensibly short summer and pray the sun returns for at least a few days before Autumn arrives.

I usually love the arrival of Autumn. The first rains feel like a great shower, cleaning off all of the grime that has accumulated over the dry summer, the pavement is all shiny and sleek, the grass returns to its green color. The air is fresher. But how can I possibly enjoy the onset of Autumn when its starting in FREAKIN' August? It just not right!

I should go make some cocoa and toast and put on a robe and slippers and admit defeat. The sun will return again next year and I will be right here, water logged and waiting for its glorious rays to fill me to sustain me for another year.

Stinkin' Liberals

The Democratic National Convention kicked off today in Denver. Obama is gearing up to accept the nomination. The impending election is adding electricity to the air. So much so that Ryan has talked politics more in the last month with me than he has in the entire course of our relationship.

I believe there are two reasons he is talking politics with me.

Reason #1: Fear. He is afraid I'm going to vote for John McCain. He doesn't hate McCain, he is just fed up with the war in Iraq, especially now when we are having so many financial troubles at home (and by home I mean in the larger sense of America).

Reason #2: Safety. He feels safe to talk to me about politics now that I've dialed the crazy back a little. I used to be a little on the uh, shall we say, passionate side when it came to politics and if you didn't see things my way, then well, you were just plain wrong. And stupid to boot.

It's amazing how open a person can be when they don't fear being attacked. I wasn't much to fear, though. I can't argue my way out of a wet paper bag. Not with logic and reason anyway. I am, however, great at making sweeping generalizations and making references to "them" and "they" and "studies" and "recent statistics". I am not so great at references, names of publications from said studies and the numbers behind the statistics.

Now if I want to argue a point I stop and try to collect my thought and organize them. Once I realize the thoughts are pretty random and based mostly on emotions I shrug my shoulders and say, "eh".

So, the DNC (aside, am I the only one who thinks of a D&C when you hear DNC?) is under way. Yep. I am a little interested in the events. Brace yourself, Mom. Wendy, Joel, Ike (oh, wait, you live in the stone age and don't have a computer so you will have to get this info in person), anyone else who has known me longer than 7 years.

I think I am going to vote for Barak Obama. Yep. Come November I will fill in the oval next to the Democrats candidate.

Gulp.

Talk about taking a leap.

I don't think my aunts who live in the area have the address to this blog. I think I will not share this bit of information with them since they are a little more passionate about politics than I am - and they have the ability to use reason, logic and facts in an argument! Deadly combination for me.

Ryan and I were talking about McCain and Obama at dinner last night. Neither of us think McCain is bad. We do think he is really, really old and that he will continue to push the same agenda in Iraq. Both of us are sick of the hemorrhage of funds that are flowing into that region when our dollar is tanking at home and abroad.

Of course, now that I am a mother I think more about the loss of our soldiers. Every day the body count grows and grows. I never understood why my mom didn't want my brothers to join the military until I had Gavin. As much as I appreciate the Armed Forces I think I would be a basket case if Gavin decided to join the military.

Ryan and I are in agreement that McCain would be a better president from a military standpoint but that Obama would be better for domestic issues.

I kind of like the presidential races where there is a candidate that I hate, well, that is such a strong word - a candidate that makes me want to retch when I see his face. That's better. Some politicians make it easy, like making claims that they invented the Internet or that they were under hostile gunfire when visiting Serbia (Croatia?) and later saying she remembered wrong (really? Were you remembering the other time you were under gunfire?).

There you have it folks. This is big news. Big. After 7 years of living in Seattle "they" finally got to me. I'm one of "them" now. I am in favor of big government taxing us all into poverty so we can all share a little rather than some have a lot. (Just kidding - that is for the benefit of my brother).

Scofflaw

Cue Western high noon show down music: April just entered the room. And repeat music.

There is a stretch on the West Seattle Bridge where everyone speeds; the stretch where everyone speeds spans the entire length of the bridge. The speed limit on the narrow portion that is two lanes in either direction separated by a tiny 18" barrier is 35 but once it widens to 3 and 4 lanes in each direction the speed limit goes up to 45.

Those are the post speed limits but if you do not drive at least 10 mph over the speed limit you can plan on creating an angry wake of tailgaters. I've caught myself many a time zipping along at 50 mph, going with the flow of traffic, in the 35 mph stretch. When I catch myself going that fast I take it down to 43 or 44. I am one of those people who actually believe that a cop will be less likely to pull you over if your speed is not in excess of 10 mph over the limit.

You never see people get pulled over on the eastbound side of the bridge but the cops often set up clever speed traps on the westbound side - they must love it - it's like shooting fish in a barrel. The motorcycle patrol comes out in full force, there have to be at least 4 or 5 cops working the westbound side. A couple of cops parks their bikes at the top of on ramp of a permanently closed ramp and point their radar guns at the cars speeding by then take off after the speeder. The cars pull over in one little area if they are able to, if not they take the next exit. The cop, after writing a ticket, drives east a couple of blocks on the street below the bridge and gets back on at the closed ramp. He just does circles really. Up the ramp, nab a speeder, down the ramp, write a ticket, back up the ramp and round and round he goes.

So today I am driving to West Seattle as I was taking some stuff to a friends house. I was being a particularly well behaved citizen as I was only going 5 miles over the speed limit. Maybe that doesn't make me good so much as it makes me less bad. At any rate, I was inching along the narrow portion of the bridge at a leisurely pace of 40 miles per hour. This infuriated the woman driving a truck behind me. To add to her frustration (and eventually my glee) was that she couldn't pass me because there was someone else next to me who was also feeling like a good citizen and was only breaking the law by 5 mph as well.

Sometimes I feel for the person and will make an attempt to get out of their way. Today was not such a day. The woman's scowl, the way she was hunched up over the steering wheel and lets not forget the most important reason she stayed behind me was that she was on my tail. I said, "Oh, you want me to slow down even more do ya?" as if she could hear me. But I don't like it to make it really obvious I'm slowing down just to get under her skin so I just eased up on the gas a bit. Take that, angry lady! Besides, the lanes were going to open up and she could very easily pass me.

Which she did. She took her first opportunity and jumped out ahead of me and slowed down! Well! I didn't think I was that obnoxious. I only slowed down a mile or two an hour, technically, I was still speeding. If I had wanted to be super annoying I would have slowed down to the post speed limit.

As I was thinking grumpy thoughts about this woman who was in such a hurry to get around me because I wasn't breaking the law by great enough of a margin I saw the dreaded motorcycle cop.

They changed up their routine! There was only one and he was at the gore of the last exit before the bridge turned into 35th Avenue at the top of the hill. (Gore, not just a former vice president, inventor of the Internet and Nobel Peace Prize winner, a gore is the name of the painted triangular space between on/off ramps and the lanes of the highway. Yes, I am married to a transportation engineer, and yes, I am a geek). So... there was Mr. Officer on his hog with his radar gun. He pointed it at Ms. Angry Tailgater then, after checking the speed, he put me in its sights! It was too late! I hit the brakes and said, "Ah! But I was going so slow and she was tailgating me!" out loud, as if he could hear me. As if he would care even if he could hear me.

The officers next action is one that strikes fear in the hearts of drivers across the nation. He checked the speed then put the gun away and pulled out into traffic! I was the last one he pointed it at! He was coming after me! Me! I was only a mild breaker of the law! Doesn't he know it's all relative? Why me? Why?

There I am, now going the speed limit and thinking about what I'm going to do when he catches up to me and pulls me over. I peek in the rear view mirror and see him way, way back there and I saw a brief flash of blue and white lights. It was then that I realized how far behind me he was and that he never gestured at me and that we were approaching a pretty big turn before we hit 35th. With several cars between me and the cop I prayed for a green light when we hit 35th so he wouldn't have a chance to catch up to me and find me, if I was his intended target, that is.

The sun was shining on me because the light stayed green and nary a cop with flashing lights to be found I made a very sharp turn that took me immediately into a residential neighborhood and away from the flow on the majority of the traffic.

No ticket for me today.

When I told Ryan this story he asked me, "So, you out ran a cop?"

Let me be clear: I did not out run a cop. I only think that he was going to pull me over. He did not give me any indication that he wanted me to pull over; sure I never gave him a chance to give me a sign but whose fault is that? Really. I know I watch a lot of Law & Order and CSI (just the original, thank you very much) but I don't think I outfoxed the cop. He probably was after someone else.

OR... I became his white whale today! The one that got away. He is Captain Ahab and I'm Moby. Or he's the traffic cop and I'm Newman from Seinfeld. You know, neither analogy is all that flattering to me so I'm just going to stop.