Got a reorganization project?

The whumpus-es would be happy to help.

We know exactly where your stuff really needs to go.

And we provide the face-to-face human contact that is so lacking in customer service these days.

Who knew proper organization was so tasty?

Wow, yeah.

daddywhumpus is at the State Fair with the babysitter, gearing up for the Jackson Browne concert at the Grandstand. I am at home, too tired to go. I would have been no fun. Indeed, I have been very little fun lately. Too tired/mad/dumb/busy even to write anything here. Now, I am sitting in an empty house, listening to the timer on our 1951 Tappan Range tick onward to pizza time while I sip a Guinness. The boy is asleep, though reluctant to let me leave the room. The cats are watching the evening-time street movements. So when I say "empty," I mean that I am the only human grown-up present.

Ding!

One more minute.

Unlike my meat, I like my pizza to have a little toast-y-ness around the edges.

The "should-do" list is long. The "want-to" list may be longer. I am doing neither, though it could be argued that sitting here, typing with Guinness and waiting for pizza is a "want-to," I never actually wrote it down, so it does not count.

Sometimes, there is a sublime wonderful-ness to a frozen pizza. I make a mean home-made, but this is the perfect night for "heating" as opposed to "cooking." I try to keep a couple of frozens in the freezer for just such a time. It's the end of the meteorological summer, though Minnesota has been pretending it's Autumn for a while now. It's 68 degrees out there, and last night, I was actually cold in bed: the cabin we were in was 56 degrees this morning.

Yes, cabin. Pete wanted to whisk me away for a night off. And as we were down at my parents' house, it was the perfect time. The "Ga's" could watch The Boy, and I could sleep. Which I did. Though I had trouble falling asleep, and I woke up several times. It was not because of the boy: I was not worried about him, though I did miss him. I am just crap at sleeping, in general, and it's been a bad week for it.

I read a whole crappy paperback, "Outbreak," which is so crap, it's actually written from the movie of the same name and not the other way around. The whole time, I was wishing it was "The Hot Zone," which was a much better read, being based in truth. Both books are from the Ebola or Human Liquefying Virus craze of the mid 1990's. By the time I was done with that, it was 10:00, and Pete, who had been asleep for a few hours, had to pee, so I read some Harry Potter. Contrary to what some may think, books on constitutional originalism do not put me to sleep.

The boy was fine. Pete was more emotional about being away from him than I. It was lovely to see him when we returned, and he was happy to see us, bestowing unsolicited kisses back and forth on our smiling faces.

Then he got stung by a yellow jacket and screamed most of the way home.

The two incidents were unrelated.

Be expecting back-dated updates, though I may just add them and backdate them at the top of the entry, because I know I hate scrolling. And if I hate it, so should you.

Sunday Matinee

It's noon-13, and I have given the boy first and second breakfasts; cooked up some fresh pasta sauce with tomatoes, onion, and garlic from the CSA and herbs from our garden; kept the kitchen clean through sauce cooking and breakfast cooking; started laundry; and even done some knitting while babywhumpus had some boob snack. I think it's time for some video from this morning.

Sunday Morning

We buy them toys and fancy things, but Finn's favorite toys this morning are my steel water bottle and his little glass baby jars. He's been rolling the water bottle around on the floor, and it appears that our floor slants a bit. So far, he has only paused to poop. I guess that means I'm on.

Yearn for You

Pete made us go look at a house for sale today, and it's perfect for us, aside from the fact that it's priced about 80 thousand above the highest price I was thinking we could pay for a house. And it's not like we are really looking. There are just a lot of houses for sale, and we feel like we need a little more room. We have the whole remodeling plan, and we are going to have the kitchen done next spring, but we have gotten to the point where some irrational part of our psyche wants a house that's already all done.

We can't afford it.

It's perfect.

And now I am yearning.

I hate yearning.

I need new bras

Weren't expecting that, were ya?

I have one real bra that fits me. Meaning, "bra that one would consider wearing on a date." I have two nursing bras which definitely don't count when considering the idea of being on a date. Other than that, it's the sports-type bras I bought when I was pregnant because nothing else would fit, and they are getting stretchy and weird and are not attractive or supportive, kind of like that boyfriend we all had in college.

Thing is, I am still lactating (yeah, I said it), so size will change, but I could be lactating for quite some time, so I think I should just go and get some new bras. They won't work with the pumping, but at least I could look good in my clothes from the waist up.

We had a garage sale last weekend. I have some extra cash floating around. I bet Pete would be OK with that.

Something else

Don't go here if you don't want to read about my stance on health care reform and the current debate. Seriously. Don't. I put it on kittywhumpus for a reason, even though it does have to do with The Boy.