<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064</id><updated>2012-01-09T07:17:40.022-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Scream, Stupid!</title><subtitle type='html'>A time-wasting vehicle...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>125</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-1888455187977790004</id><published>2010-06-04T17:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-04T17:29:49.465-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Photos of very limited interest</title><content type='html'>Here are some old family photos that are presented without much information (if you want to know more about a photo--and I can't imagine why you would--just ask). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reinhart Lietzow and Family, circa 1892:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmShAOcFrI/AAAAAAAAAIw/JwkjrsnUOyg/s1600/LietzowFamilyPortrait-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmShAOcFrI/AAAAAAAAAIw/JwkjrsnUOyg/s320/LietzowFamilyPortrait-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Wilhelmina Beck and daughters Clara, Willie, and Emma Lutzow:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmUAVy0ZBI/AAAAAAAAAJA/0RSPrXzMn1s/s1600/LutzowLadies-abt1921-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmUAVy0ZBI/AAAAAAAAAJA/0RSPrXzMn1s/s320/LutzowLadies-abt1921-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Willie Lutzow, circa 1907:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmUOvRJReI/AAAAAAAAAJI/Wap2mjbTOX0/s1600/WillieLutzow-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmUOvRJReI/AAAAAAAAAJI/Wap2mjbTOX0/s320/WillieLutzow-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Wilhelmina Beck and daughter Clara Lutzow:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmUhBGMEdI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/25J8xXxadJA/s1600/WilhelminaBeck-ClaraLutzow-1904-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmUhBGMEdI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/25J8xXxadJA/s320/WilhelminaBeck-ClaraLutzow-1904-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Willie Lutzow with Emma Lutzow and Family:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmUw5ROdRI/AAAAAAAAAJY/UR5gsnUzVt0/s1600/Emma-Willie-Family-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmUw5ROdRI/AAAAAAAAAJY/UR5gsnUzVt0/s320/Emma-Willie-Family-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Reinhart Lietzow, circa 1934:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmVPS2VtKI/AAAAAAAAAJg/-6yUlx6Z2H0/s1600/ReinhartLietzow-88Years-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmVPS2VtKI/AAAAAAAAAJg/-6yUlx6Z2H0/s320/ReinhartLietzow-88Years-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Reinhart Lietzow:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmVaovdtsI/AAAAAAAAAJo/qe5Co0iN1Vo/s1600/ReinhartLietzow-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmVaovdtsI/AAAAAAAAAJo/qe5Co0iN1Vo/s320/ReinhartLietzow-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Van Lutzow &amp;amp; Charlotte:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmVqQjyydI/AAAAAAAAAJw/eytrJixdGHE/s1600/Van-Charlotte-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmVqQjyydI/AAAAAAAAAJw/eytrJixdGHE/s320/Van-Charlotte-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The Tungates and Lutzows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmV_sB3I3I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/Mjw0e2l-3Hc/s1600/Tungate-LutzowFamily-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmV_sB3I3I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/Mjw0e2l-3Hc/s320/Tungate-LutzowFamily-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The Tungates and Lutzows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmWPdiv5PI/AAAAAAAAAKA/C-NL3_Dkogk/s1600/Tungate-Lutzow-Group-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmWPdiv5PI/AAAAAAAAAKA/C-NL3_Dkogk/s320/Tungate-Lutzow-Group-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;George Washington Tungate:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmWY5GA2LI/AAAAAAAAAKI/pT6rMQyY_vc/s1600/GeorgeWashingtonTungate-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmWY5GA2LI/AAAAAAAAAKI/pT6rMQyY_vc/s320/GeorgeWashingtonTungate-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;George Washington Tungate:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmWkMT1YuI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/JfGijkPsBdI/s1600/GWTungate-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmWkMT1YuI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/JfGijkPsBdI/s320/GWTungate-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;George Washinton Tungate &amp;amp; Child:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmWu4frG_I/AAAAAAAAAKY/UOg5i1x29NE/s1600/GeorgeWashingtonTungate_and_Baby-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmWu4frG_I/AAAAAAAAAKY/UOg5i1x29NE/s320/GeorgeWashingtonTungate_and_Baby-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Charles Allen's home in West Falls:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmW-m8wqUI/AAAAAAAAAKg/AOvVeyYDJQk/s1600/CharlesAllen-House-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmW-m8wqUI/AAAAAAAAAKg/AOvVeyYDJQk/s320/CharlesAllen-House-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Charles Allen's home in Buffalo (is this a different house?):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmXH4V0GsI/AAAAAAAAAKo/9zHmdC59WZM/s1600/CharlesAllen-House-Rear-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmXH4V0GsI/AAAAAAAAAKo/9zHmdC59WZM/s320/CharlesAllen-House-Rear-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Stanley Allen:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmXaMAcfsI/AAAAAAAAAKw/2PZTZhsUuaM/s1600/StanleyAllen-Car-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmXaMAcfsI/AAAAAAAAAKw/2PZTZhsUuaM/s320/StanleyAllen-Car-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Stanley and Charles Allen:&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmXknwu32I/AAAAAAAAAK4/OV1KppRncSM/s1600/Stanley-CharlesAllen-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmXknwu32I/AAAAAAAAAK4/OV1KppRncSM/s320/Stanley-CharlesAllen-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Charles Allen and Jack:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmXsrxz2kI/AAAAAAAAALA/EqjwgMPr0js/s1600/CharlesAllen-Dog-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmXsrxz2kI/AAAAAAAAALA/EqjwgMPr0js/s320/CharlesAllen-Dog-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Verner Allen at work (looking cool in the black shirt):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmX39NyB2I/AAAAAAAAALI/G2y9m7MUrPk/s1600/VernerAllenAtWork-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmX39NyB2I/AAAAAAAAALI/G2y9m7MUrPk/s320/VernerAllenAtWork-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Verner Allen at Laguna Beach, California, July 1936:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmYEi0RZWI/AAAAAAAAALQ/9SKn0x2N64g/s1600/VernAllen-Laguna-July1936-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmYEi0RZWI/AAAAAAAAALQ/9SKn0x2N64g/s320/VernAllen-Laguna-July1936-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Marcella Tungate (Sally Allen) at Laguna Beach, California, July 1936:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmYRqMPenI/AAAAAAAAALY/jaXZYUHixnI/s1600/MarcellaTungateAllen-Laguna-July1936-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmYRqMPenI/AAAAAAAAALY/jaXZYUHixnI/s320/MarcellaTungateAllen-Laguna-July1936-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Mayme Holmes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmYfkh6JjI/AAAAAAAAALg/7om_sXEE0UM/s1600/MamieHolmes-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmYfkh6JjI/AAAAAAAAALg/7om_sXEE0UM/s320/MamieHolmes-small.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-1888455187977790004?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/1888455187977790004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=1888455187977790004' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/1888455187977790004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/1888455187977790004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2010/06/photos-of-very-limited-interest.html' title='Photos of very limited interest'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/TAmShAOcFrI/AAAAAAAAAIw/JwkjrsnUOyg/s72-c/LietzowFamilyPortrait-small.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-24262810842296745</id><published>2010-03-24T17:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T18:18:52.023-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Childbirth Playlist</title><content type='html'>I've just been browsing through my ipod and I came across a playlist I put together about 2 and a half years ago for listening to during labor.  I wanted as much control during this difficult period as I could manage.  (Yes, it was part of my attempt to micro-manage the labor process.)  I was afraid of giving birth.  I get claustrophobic in hospitals and I wanted to feel I had control over something--if not over the pain or duration of labor or the location, then at least over the music in the room.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The playlist is 4 and a half hours long and I listened to it twice in the hospital.  What lovely gems are on this playlist?  Relaxing, soul-centering instrumentals with the sound of a bubbling stream in the background?  Fuck that.  I wanted to be amused and even distracted.  I wanted to pretend I was not on the fifth floor of a hospital.  My attitude was "get back to me when it's time to push."  My playlist is a collection of songs that made/make me feel happy and comfortable.  Nothing difficult, but not necessarily relaxing.  Here's a small selection:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Licking Stick (James Brown)&lt;br /&gt;In the Mouth of a Desert (Pavement)&lt;br /&gt;Mambo No. 5 (Prez Prado)&lt;br /&gt;Anadolu (Ozel Turkbas)&lt;br /&gt;Bonnie and Clyde (Serge Gainsbourg &amp; Brigitte B)&lt;br /&gt;Care of Cell 44 (the Zombies)&lt;br /&gt;White &amp; Nerdy ("Weird Al" Yankovic)&lt;br /&gt;You Won't Be Merry on a North Sea Ferry (the Toy Dolls)&lt;br /&gt;Old World (the Modern Lovers)&lt;br /&gt;Through Being Cool (Devo)&lt;br /&gt;Abraham (Chico Marx Orchestra)&lt;br /&gt;I'm Gonna See You (that dog)&lt;br /&gt;They'll Need a Crane (They Might Be Giants)&lt;br /&gt;Best Friend (the English Beat)&lt;br /&gt;Disorder (Joy Division)&lt;br /&gt;Montana (John Linnell)&lt;br /&gt;Skinny Legs and All (Joe Tex)&lt;br /&gt;Cold Beverage (G. Love and Special Sauce)&lt;br /&gt;I Should Be So Lucky (French and Saunders)&lt;br /&gt;Give It To Me, Baby (Rick James)&lt;br /&gt;Bathtime in Clerkenwell (the Real Tuesday Weld)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny to see the songs I thought of as being reassuring.  They did the trick, though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-24262810842296745?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/24262810842296745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=24262810842296745' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/24262810842296745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/24262810842296745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-childbirth-playlist.html' title='My Childbirth Playlist'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-4997020725787919123</id><published>2010-03-22T17:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-22T18:00:14.934-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's the sad guy doin'?</title><content type='html'>A few days ago Simon got annoyed by something and decided he was sad.  "Is Simon sad?" he asked me.  Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me around the backyard in a playful manner.  He stopped and looked at me.  "What's the sad guy doin'?" he asked, then we ran around the yard again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/S6gRzHz4CxI/AAAAAAAAAIY/JeRMmGKTHkA/s1600-h/Simon-Bat-021310-sm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 296px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/S6gRzHz4CxI/AAAAAAAAAIY/JeRMmGKTHkA/s400/Simon-Bat-021310-sm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451626918899616530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/S6gSFAHY2tI/AAAAAAAAAIg/xqRpWYiLp2E/s1600-h/Simon-Boots-022310-sm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 357px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/S6gSFAHY2tI/AAAAAAAAAIg/xqRpWYiLp2E/s400/Simon-Boots-022310-sm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451627226071620306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/S6gSTvMobqI/AAAAAAAAAIo/qM_7uNJvgZ4/s1600-h/Simon-SwimDiapersOnHead-030.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/S6gSTvMobqI/AAAAAAAAAIo/qM_7uNJvgZ4/s400/Simon-SwimDiapersOnHead-030.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451627479228247714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this last photo Simon is wearing a swim diaper on his head.  He named the diaper Ellie and said it was a hat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-4997020725787919123?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/4997020725787919123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=4997020725787919123' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/4997020725787919123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/4997020725787919123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2010/03/whats-sad-guy-doin.html' title='What&apos;s the sad guy doin&apos;?'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/S6gRzHz4CxI/AAAAAAAAAIY/JeRMmGKTHkA/s72-c/Simon-Bat-021310-sm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-6030802885642207293</id><published>2010-03-08T13:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T10:43:17.550-08:00</updated><title type='text'>More Simon Says</title><content type='html'>9/6/09:&lt;br /&gt;"'Se cayó'--Spanish for 'go boom.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9/7/09:&lt;br /&gt;"Oven is hot."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"S is for Simon."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Cars parked on the street."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Another pinecone."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9/11/09:&lt;br /&gt;"Birds have feathers and they fly in the blue sky."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9/12/09:&lt;br /&gt;"Go for a walk with grabs?"  (He wanted to go for a walk and be allowed to grab my breast.  What?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9/17/09:&lt;br /&gt;"Go for a walk?"  No one wanted to go for a walk, so Simon tried another tactic:  "Go get Perrier?"  He remembered that a few nights ago Michael took him for a walk to the corner store to buy some Perrier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9/24/09:&lt;br /&gt;"The dudes come out.  All the dudes come out.  Daddy say that."  (I don't know what this means.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10/6/09:&lt;br /&gt;"Sir Topham Hatt has a penis?"  (This came out of nowhere.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10/10/09:&lt;br /&gt;"Like a gas station of spider webs."  (I don't know what he was talking about.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10/21/09:&lt;br /&gt;"The moon!  There on the sky.  Has a crescent."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10/27/09:&lt;br /&gt;"Simon was crying in the living room, on the rug."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11/14/09:&lt;br /&gt;Simon:  "Mommy is friends with Simon and the toys?"&lt;br /&gt;Mommy:  "Did you just ask if Mommy was friends?"&lt;br /&gt;Simon:  "Yeah.  Amigos with us?"&lt;br /&gt;Mommy:  "Of course.  I love you so much."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11/21/09:&lt;br /&gt;"Hard to say, ‘seashells by the seashore’?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11/23/09:&lt;br /&gt;"The city is too far away for the trees."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How to make so many foods."  (looking through a cookbook)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Let’s put Thomas in here.  That’s a good idea."  (playing with trains)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11/29/09:&lt;br /&gt;"Okay, we’re gonna go here....  Duck, you wanna play with me?  You wanna play with me sometimes?.... Sorry, Percy, we don’t go there.... No, Emily, you cannot go here on the bridge.  We do not help Lady to the bridge....  Simon can do it all by himself....  Goin’ to the countryside."  (a snippet of his monologue while playing with his Thomas trains)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11/30/09:&lt;br /&gt;"Need a towel for the cries."  (He wanted to wipe his tears.)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Aidan has to share with the other very nice cars."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12/5/09:&lt;br /&gt;"Mater towed McQueen out of the cactus."  (He was acting out a scene from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Cars&lt;/span&gt;.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12/12/09:&lt;br /&gt;"Wanna snuggle with Mommy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12/16/09:&lt;br /&gt;"The penguin says, ‘You got a friend in me.’  He says that."  (referring to &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Toy Story&lt;/span&gt;.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12/18/09:&lt;br /&gt;"Be careful, Mavis!"  (playing with his trains)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12/21/09:&lt;br /&gt;"Thank you for Christmas."  (He said this to friends of mine who had given him a Christmas present.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12/23/09:&lt;br /&gt;"Leo has to get his baton back so he can conduct.  The animals help pull Rocket out of the rocks.  The bumble bee helps and the other bumble animals help."  (describing a scene from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Little Einsteins&lt;/span&gt;.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1/1/10:&lt;br /&gt;Simon’s version of the Thomas song:&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;2, they’re 4, they’re 6, they’re 8.&lt;br /&gt; Something trucks, all in freight.&lt;br /&gt; Red and brown and green,&lt;br /&gt; They’re the really useful crew.&lt;br /&gt; All with and round the bends,&lt;br /&gt; It’s Thomas and his friends,&lt;br /&gt; Bum, bum!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1/5/10:&lt;br /&gt;"Two balms!"  (Simon was excitedly holding up two tubes of lip balm.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1/7/10:&lt;br /&gt;"Nemo is Mommy’s son."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Chugga chugga choo-choo!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Confitty and beyond!"  (He was trying to say, "infinity and beyond.")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1/8/10:&lt;br /&gt;"You wanna walk with us?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1/9/10:&lt;br /&gt;"Simon loves Mommy very much."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1/10/10:&lt;br /&gt;"You wanna snuggle me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1/13/10:&lt;br /&gt;"Mickey Mokes!"  (He calls breasts "mokes," and he made a Disney joke.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1/17/10:&lt;br /&gt;"Hi, Michael.  What are you doin’?"  (pretending to talk to his dad on the phone)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1/19/10:&lt;br /&gt;"Karen, Aidan, and Kevin."  (I was just impressed by his mental use of commas and the "and" at the end.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1/26/10:&lt;br /&gt;"Hi, Bulstrode.  You wanna go at Tweety’s house?"  (playing with toys)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You want more cheese?  It’s delicious!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1/27/10:&lt;br /&gt;"Don’t hit like that.  Just slow hit."  (I had told him he couldn't hit, that he had to be gentle, and he translated this into his own language.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1/28/10:&lt;br /&gt;"I can’t believe the moke is a big, long balloon!"  (He was looking at a balloon and making a breast joke.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1/30/10:&lt;br /&gt;(Singing) "The barracuda is very big… in life."  (Huh?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I love you, moke."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2/15/10:&lt;br /&gt;"The kids go, 'nuh, nuh, nuh,' then they go wipe, wipe, wipe, and then they go flush, flush, flush."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2/17/10:&lt;br /&gt;"You wanna pretend Mommy has moke?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you reading a recipe book?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2/18/10:&lt;br /&gt;"It’s a fish.  I have to find it.  Oh, no!  Where are you?  We’re in the water.  Goin’ in the dark!  Oh, no!"  (part of monologue during play)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2/21/10:&lt;br /&gt;"Please, I want some water."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2/22/10:&lt;br /&gt;"Mommy, find more toys with Mater’s flashlight."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3/2/10:&lt;br /&gt;"...and put the ingredients in the oven."  (part of monologue while playing)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3/5/10:&lt;br /&gt;"Is Sully vanilla?  Is Boo vanilla?  What are these vanillas doing?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you at Monsters, Incorporated?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-6030802885642207293?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/6030802885642207293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=6030802885642207293' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6030802885642207293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6030802885642207293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2010/03/more-simon-says.html' title='More Simon Says'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-5090963282986664865</id><published>2010-03-08T13:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T13:33:17.244-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What I've got stuck in my head</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/FcUi6UEQh00&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/FcUi6UEQh00&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-5090963282986664865?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/5090963282986664865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=5090963282986664865' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5090963282986664865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5090963282986664865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2010/03/what-ive-got-stuck-in-my-head.html' title='What I&apos;ve got stuck in my head'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-6540159375312739865</id><published>2009-09-02T23:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T00:28:55.184-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More Sentences</title><content type='html'>Summer Theater is over now, so I'm able to scrape together a few minutes for an update.  Simon is 21 months old and loves to talk.  He's good with words.  Here are some more of my favorite sentences:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* "Sun is like a orange moon.  Sun is like a orange stop sign."&lt;br /&gt;* "Two guitars.  Guitar has a hole.  Like a chimney?"&lt;br /&gt;* "The truck has a flashing blue light."&lt;br /&gt;* "Green leaves and flowers in the alley."&lt;br /&gt;* "Tapioca is puddin'."&lt;br /&gt;* "Mommy cookin' broccoli and sardines." (sardines pronounced "sar-beens")&lt;br /&gt;* "McQueen and Sally drive on a bridge...water, dry leaves, huge waterfall." (referring to a scene from the movie &lt;i&gt;Cars&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;* "Lady playin' the bagpipes." (a woman was playing the bagpipes in the park)&lt;br /&gt;* "This way bicycle, man with a helmet."&lt;br /&gt;* "What's the deal?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes he speaks a bit Spanglishy.  Here is the way he described playing with his friends at the park:&lt;br /&gt;"Niños at the parque.  Lucas and Eli and Cairo and Justin and Jake.  Niños say 'Hi.'"  Remember the sand?  Remember the library in the other parque?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He made up a song the other day while we were walking down the street.  It went like this: "Trees and cars and trash cans and vans... and Hummers!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a carnival at the park down the street two weekends ago.  I had performances and couldn't go, so Michael took Simon one night and my dad took him the next night.  The first night I asked Simon what he did at the carnival.  He told me, "Big wheel up in the sky" (he saw a ferris wheel), "White balls" (He and Michael played a game that involved throwing white balls at targets), "Monkey" (Michael won an orange toy monkey in the ball toss game).  Later, Simon named the monkey Kumlee.  Where he got that name is a mystery to all of us.  The next night, after Simon went to the carnival again with Papa, I asked him what he did.  He told me, "Red bear turn around" (they rode a red bear on a bear ride that goes around in circles), "Bee up in the sky" (they went on a bee ride that goes around in circles and up and down), "Ride on a truck" (they went on a truck ride).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm starting to be surprised by all the stuff he knows.  For example:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "This plant has thorns.  They're sharp.  Ouch!  Be careful."&lt;br /&gt;Simon: "Like a cactus?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Yeah!  Who told you about cactuses?"&lt;br /&gt;Simon: "Daddy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a hilarious pun/joke Simon made the other day.  The key here is the way Simon pronounces the word "milk."  He says "moke."  There have been out-of-control fires in our general area and you could see huge plumes of smoke in the nearby hills.  Simon and I had talked about the fire and smoke quite a bit.  A few days ago we were out walking, and I pointed to the hills and said, "That's smoke."  He looked at me, then pointed to my chest and said, "That's milk!"  He cracked up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simon also loves making rhymes.  "Mommy salami" is one of his favorites.  "Penis neenis" is another (usually only said during diaper changes).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, yeah--Simon decided to name my car a few days ago.  He named it Fatty.  I don't know where he got the name.  I don't think he knows what it means.  I think he just likes the sound of it.  Anyway, my car is Fatty.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-6540159375312739865?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/6540159375312739865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=6540159375312739865' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6540159375312739865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6540159375312739865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2009/09/more-sentences.html' title='More Sentences'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-7807213106743567600</id><published>2009-07-02T23:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T00:20:55.135-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sentences</title><content type='html'>Simon has been speaking in sentences for months now.  Here's one of my favorite sentences:  Simon was nursing, then nuzzled his lips against the side of my breast and said "Kiss milk."  Here are some others from the last 2 or 3 months:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* "Donald Connor boom." (Donald O'Connor falls a lot in the "Make 'em Laugh" number from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Singin' in the Rain&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;* "Julie mommy." (he likes to say my name sometimes)&lt;br /&gt;* "Mommy silver car." (Mommy's car is silver)&lt;br /&gt;* "Daddy brown car, hot wheel." (Daddy's tires were very warm)&lt;br /&gt;* "Careful shoes." (being careful in his new shoes)&lt;br /&gt;* "Simon sit step." (sitting on a step)&lt;br /&gt;* "Michael funny." (Daddy can be pretty funny)&lt;br /&gt;* "Ready go car." (wanting to go in the car)&lt;br /&gt;* "Out spoon boom." (some yogurt dripped off his spoon)&lt;br /&gt;* "So many cars." (he says this all the time while watching cars drive by)&lt;br /&gt;* "So many people." (he says this a lot when people are around)&lt;br /&gt;* "Moon like circle." (sometimes the moon looks like a circle)&lt;br /&gt;* "Man say 'woo!'" (we heard a man yelling "woo!")&lt;br /&gt;* "People dancing" (I don't remember the context of this)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are the words to a song Simon was singing to himself the other day:&lt;br /&gt;"Simon, Simon. Other babies.  Doo doo doo doo doo."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-7807213106743567600?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/7807213106743567600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=7807213106743567600' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7807213106743567600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7807213106743567600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2009/07/sentences.html' title='Sentences'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-3263733270996633492</id><published>2009-07-01T11:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T11:32:27.662-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pictures of June</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="400" height="300"&gt; &lt;param name="flashvars" value="offsite=true&amp;lang=en-us&amp;page_show_url=%2Fphotos%2Fweatherbird%2Fsets%2F72157620821755432%2Fshow%2F&amp;page_show_back_url=%2Fphotos%2Fweatherbird%2Fsets%2F72157620821755432%2F&amp;set_id=72157620821755432&amp;jump_to="&gt;&lt;/param&gt; &lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.flickr.com/apps/slideshow/show.swf?v=71649"&gt;&lt;/param&gt; &lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://www.flickr.com/apps/slideshow/show.swf?v=71649" allowFullScreen="true" flashvars="offsite=true&amp;lang=en-us&amp;page_show_url=%2Fphotos%2Fweatherbird%2Fsets%2F72157620821755432%2Fshow%2F&amp;page_show_back_url=%2Fphotos%2Fweatherbird%2Fsets%2F72157620821755432%2F&amp;set_id=72157620821755432&amp;jump_to=" width="400" height="300"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-3263733270996633492?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/3263733270996633492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=3263733270996633492' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/3263733270996633492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/3263733270996633492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2009/07/pictures-of-june.html' title='Pictures of June'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-5044602352386577914</id><published>2009-06-16T23:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T00:37:42.182-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving On</title><content type='html'>Our new house is in a great neighborhood.  We can walk to the park.  We can walk to a donut shop (Simon has learned about "nummy donuts").  There are lots of couples with kids living nearby, and people are very friendly.  Simon and I spend a lot of time walking around, so I've discovered some fun facts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the next street over there is a house inhabited by vegetable lovers.  So much do they love fresh veggies and fruits they've given over their entire front yard and "sidewalk strip yard" (what else do you call that area of "yard" on the other side of the sidewalk?) to the growing of them.  This thriving garden has artichokes, zucchini and other squash, kale, various cabbages, various tomatoes, 7 huge sunflowers, watermelons (some have sprawled over the curb into the street), and other stuff I can't identify yet.  One evening as Simon and I walked by I saw a man emerge from the house, walk down to sidewalk strip, harvest some squash, and go back to the house.  He was probably preparing to cook dinner.  I guess his neighbors are on the honor system.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other side of the street is a house that is undergoing construction of some kind--I think the owners are adding on to it.  This house is on the corner and is across from a small corner of the park.  Behind this house is an alley, right before the intersecting street takes over.  Along much of the brick wall in the alley are posted home-made signs of various neon colors.  There have to be at least 30 signs.  The messages are handwritten and bear some variant of this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"This is the land of the free.  Don't let them take away your freedom and privacy without a fight.  The person at [next-door neighbor's address given] is a coward and a sicko!  Why does he need 4 cameras--all aiming at you and your family?!  This is terrorism!  Fight back!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The point seems to be that this person is taking photos of people (mainly children) playing at the park.  I don't know, though.  I saw one camera, but it was aimed at the back gate of the alley, clearly for security purposes.  There was another one--very small--by the front gate.  It was crowded between shrubs and trees, and I doubt it could take decent pictures of people at the park.  I'm still looking into this.  Either way, the writer of the signs went a little overboard, I think.  And it has to be the person who lives at the house on the other side of the alley wall, the house across the street from the vegetable lovers.  I'm thinking the wall is his (or her) property, which is why no one has removed the crazy signs.  The front yard of this house is interesting.  It's mostly full of different kinds of cactus.  There are some bougainvillea too.  The ground is covered in white rocks.  Basically, everything that grows in the yard has nasty, vicious thorns.  Odd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another street some joker drew a really lame cartoon penis in wet cement some time back.  On a street perpendicular to that, someone wrote "Only love can conquer hate" in wet cement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days ago, walking to the liquor store a couple blocks away, I heard a teenage girl screaming to someone on her cell phone, "There are naked pictures of my sister on people's phones!  Don't play dumb with me!"  I was sad to miss the end of that conversation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-5044602352386577914?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/5044602352386577914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=5044602352386577914' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5044602352386577914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5044602352386577914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2009/06/moving-on.html' title='Moving On'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-3171469227972694089</id><published>2009-06-13T11:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T11:42:10.745-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Long Time No Post</title><content type='html'>How can life become more hectic?  I thought life would calm down once Simon got a little older.  I'm so naive!  I remember congratulating myself on having such an easy baby because Simon was so peaceful and quiet when he was 2 days old!  The wake-up call came to me on his third day.  My optimism surprises me.  Where does it come from?  It's nice to know it's still there somewhere.  Still, as can be seen in my lack of blog posts, my life is getting busier.  With Simon running around, I barely have time to turn on my computer (except for work) these days.  In fact, I'm stealing a few moment to rite this while Simon is nursing--yes, I'm typing this with my left hand.  Yes, Simon is still nursing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We sold our house.  Escrow closed 4 days ago.  We are renting a nice house less than 5 miles away from our old house.  It's smaller, but has a nice yard and is just a few blocks away from a park.  Simon loves to be outside, especially looking at cars driving by.  "Outside" is his favorite word lately.  He yells it whenever he's inside.  He wants to be outside all day and all night.  We go for long walks.  Well, usually Simon wants to be carried, which is super fun for my weary arms.  He walks a little bit, then wants "up!"  And he won't sit in his stroller.  He hates being strapped down, I guess.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simon loves cars.  "More cars!" he yells about 300 times a day.  We go out to the street and watch the cars.  "Many cars!" he yells.  "So many cars!"  He then catalogs them: "blue truck," "silver car," "black car," and so on.  There can never be enough cars for him.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More later...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-3171469227972694089?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/3171469227972694089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=3171469227972694089' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/3171469227972694089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/3171469227972694089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2009/06/long-time-no-post.html' title='Long Time No Post'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-2768056974350892451</id><published>2009-04-10T23:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T23:44:02.381-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Water</title><content type='html'>Here are some videos of Simon playing with a sprinkler at Nonna and Papa's from last weekend.  The sound is funky because a piece of scotch tape got stuck over the camera's microphone and I didn't realize it until later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/e7QeNsOPj7k&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/e7QeNsOPj7k&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ns24nbCV7lE&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ns24nbCV7lE&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/f6vKzpL1-og&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/f6vKzpL1-og&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jwKS-b7WdWQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jwKS-b7WdWQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-2768056974350892451?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/2768056974350892451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=2768056974350892451' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/2768056974350892451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/2768056974350892451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2009/04/water.html' title='Water'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-7346341644640499733</id><published>2009-03-30T12:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T23:28:12.203-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The List of Words</title><content type='html'>This is really something only a mother cares about, but I'm that mother and tant pis pour toi!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Words Simon says (well, all I can remember right now):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bath, duck, dog, no, down, up, on, nose, ball, book, cat, key, man, boy, girl, baby, bye-bye, mommy, daddy, egg, pear, belt, clock, car, shoe, fan, music, milk, breast, knee, toe, towel, bra, train, mole, eye, mouse, water, bean, bread, more, pen, papa, nonna, Esthela, John, pillow, grandma, can, spoon, bowl, boat, boom, cookie, arm, comb, bunny, funny, pig, dart, goal, go, gummy, apple, juice, blanket, night-night, Rose, Kanga, Roo, Pooh, Mickey, Minnie, Thomas, Nemo, Po, Laa-Laa, Dipsy, Tinky Winky, Noo-Noo, Jackie, Ron, Simon, Elmo, bubble, Spot, Ollie, turtle, shirt, cup, broccoli, Gonzo, macaroni, monkey, yoyo, fish, vacuum, camera, grass, bluebell, booboo, light, phone, Hector, ravioli, yummy, ant, tummy, chest, pan (Spanish for "bread"), pasa (Spanish for "raisin"), yay, whee, door, Amy, banana, hello, cow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know there are some more, but it's hard to think of them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-7346341644640499733?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/7346341644640499733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=7346341644640499733' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7346341644640499733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7346341644640499733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2009/03/list-of-words.html' title='The List of Words'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-420710634162974597</id><published>2009-03-11T15:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T23:14:10.069-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Story</title><content type='html'>I've got a better story now.  Okay, not so much a story as little "snapshots" of non-horrible things...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day last week I tried to get Simon to take his second nap, but he wasn't interested.  I gave up and started to cook dinner.  I held Simon most of the time, but put him down to chop veggies and stuff.  I was mostly done--just had to boil the water for the pasta--when Simon tugged at me and said "nah-nah."  Huh?  He kept saying it and pointing toward the hallway.  Finally, I realized he was saying "night-night"--he wanted to take his nap.  So we took it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simon is saying more and more words (I've counted over 50 words he uses on a regular basis) and saying them better and better every day.  Three days ago he couldn't say his name at all well--"ehmah" or something like that.  Today I said to him, "Can you say Simon?"  He smiled and said "Shymuhn."  He's working on the "s" sound these days, which comes out as "sh."  He normally calls Esthela "Dah," but today, for the first time, he said "Shtela."  He's very proud of his accomplishments, too.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days ago Simon grabbed Michael's horchata drink from a Mexican take-out place and put the straw in his mouth.  I thought he was just playing with it, but I noticed it seemed like he was drinking.  After a while he dribbled some of the white horchata out of his mouth.  Yep, he was drinking.  I thought you had to teach toddlers how to use a straw.  Simon figured it out on his own, seemingly without much effort.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-420710634162974597?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/420710634162974597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=420710634162974597' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/420710634162974597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/420710634162974597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2009/03/another-story.html' title='Another Story'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-260385129238426025</id><published>2009-03-10T22:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T23:25:37.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Super Fun Happy Love Time</title><content type='html'>Let me tell you a story about a woman whose in-laws are being sued for a very large amount of money after defaulting on a commercial property lease.  Well, it turns out that her husband, as co-signer of the lease, is also being sued for this very large amount of money.  And since her husband is the only party with assets, he is the one who is going to have to pay the very large amount of money.  Even though he had nothing to do with the property and only co-signed on the lease as a favor to his pleading, promising, "nothing will go wrong" guaranteeing mother.  She needed the property for her business and couldn't get it without someone else's good credit.  And then her business failed due to gross incompetence and irrational behavior (she may have purchased some "magic beans" for half a million dollars--that would not surprise me).  Deeply in debt and without a business, she still had an expensive lease she couldn't get out of.  And so now her son, for being stupid enough to lend his name to one of his mother's crazy schemes, is seriously fucked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, that story is no good.  Let me tell you another.  Hmm... I'll get back to you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-260385129238426025?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/260385129238426025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=260385129238426025' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/260385129238426025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/260385129238426025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2009/03/super-fun-happy-love-time.html' title='Super Fun Happy Love Time'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-245451487304204444</id><published>2009-02-10T16:18:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T16:33:43.005-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Update</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SZIZcBtzMaI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/lOAhb-lENJU/s1600-h/Car-02-08-09-sm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SZIZcBtzMaI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/lOAhb-lENJU/s400/Car-02-08-09-sm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301327680656060834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simon is just racing down the developmental highway these days.  It's hard to keep up with all his new words and concepts and abilities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are just some of the newer words he says:  Towel ("dow"), Shoe ("zhoo"), Bean ("bee"), Keys ("ghee"), Fan ("ban" or "van"), Boom, Mole ("moh"), Water ("wah wah"), Bra ("bwah")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other night Simon took the &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Singing in the Rain&lt;/span&gt; DVD off the shelf and put it on top of our portable CD player (which, by the way, is always playing the Rutles).  He looked at me with a meaningful expression.  He wanted me to play the disc, thinking it was music.  I had taken the disc out of the case so he couldn't destroy it, but he knows that such cases usually hold discs and that those discs can play music.  So I put the disc in the DVD player and skipped to the "Moses Supposes" dance sequence.  At first Simon was skeptical, but then he saw the tap dancing and really liked it.  "That's Gene Kelly," I told him (Donald O'Connor will come later, I guess).  We watched that number several times.  Simon stomped his feet really fast like he was tap dancing.  Very cute.  He was excited and proud.  "Where's Gene Kelly," I asked, and he pointed at the tv screen.  If you ask him, "Can you tap dance?" he'll stomp his feet for you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-245451487304204444?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/245451487304204444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=245451487304204444' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/245451487304204444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/245451487304204444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2009/02/update.html' title='The Update'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SZIZcBtzMaI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/lOAhb-lENJU/s72-c/Car-02-08-09-sm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-2288868564655854371</id><published>2009-02-03T00:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T11:44:37.277-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The House</title><content type='html'>Being the financial geniuses that we are, Michael and I are trying to sell our house.  You know, to take advantage of the booming real estate market.  No?  Okay, just because we want to live somewhere else.  As wonderful as our house is, we have kinda grown to hate it.  We went through so much hassle to fix the house up that we always feel annoyed here.  Also, we want to find a more toddler-friendly place, closer to parks, sidewalks, and other little kids.  We don't have to move; we just want to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That said, what a pain in the ass it is to clean up and clear out every weekend for the Open House. It's really hard (impossible) to keep the house clean when Simon's around, so every Friday we race around making everything spotless (because just clean doesn't cut it), then we head over to my parents' house to spend a night or two.  We've done this for three weekends so far.  My parents have helped us "stage" our house to look its best.  During the week we don't touch certain things, like the dining room table and the elaborate place settings on top of it.  There are a lot of "off limits" areas, actually.  We don't use the breakfast nook table either--it's all decorated ("staged") and we don't want to mess it up and start over again.  Oh, yeah--and about half our stuff is packed away in a storage facility.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The house looks great.  Closets, cupboards, bookshelves, etc. are organized and pleasingly arranged.  We have flowers in many rooms.  It's nice to live here now!  Well, except for the hassle of the Open Houses.  When we leave for the weekend we take certain valuables with us--cameras, laptops, jewelry, financial documents, etc.  We also lug some stuff up to the attic--the highchair, an electric fan, an air purifier, a curtain rod and curtains.  Then, when we come back home Sunday night, we have to lug these things back down.  Blah, blah, blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have a few people who are interested in the house, and a husband and wife who will probably make an offer soon.  That's good.  I don't want to live like this for much longer.  Unfortunately, I haven't seen a house I'd rather live in.  I've just been looking at Internet listings, but what I've seen isn't all that great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simon is handling all of this really well.  He has fun at my parents' house--he loves to play with Nonna and Papa!  And he's learned a lot about cleaning from watching us scrub and wipe and polish.  He likes to take a paper towel (or baby wipe) and run around the house "cleaning" surfaces--floors, tables, walls, furniture.  It's very cute.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-2288868564655854371?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/2288868564655854371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=2288868564655854371' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/2288868564655854371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/2288868564655854371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2009/02/house.html' title='The House'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-8846356991845968758</id><published>2009-01-08T15:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T15:21:48.713-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Kitty &amp; Dog</title><content type='html'>Simon really likes this video:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DpA2tMrQ4RU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DpA2tMrQ4RU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, for some reason, he also likes this one:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8VWPW3EKFZU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8VWPW3EKFZU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-8846356991845968758?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/8846356991845968758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=8846356991845968758' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/8846356991845968758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/8846356991845968758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2009/01/kitty-dog.html' title='Kitty &amp; Dog'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-5015126824938844224</id><published>2009-01-08T14:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T15:16:36.605-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Words &amp; Such</title><content type='html'>Simon has a lot of words, but only a few sounds.  It gets confusing.  "Bah" can mean "ball," "bye," "phone," or "Buddha" (there's a statue of Buddha in a neighbor's yard).  "Mah" can mean "more," "mommy," "milk," "mush" (from the book &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Goodnight Moon&lt;/span&gt;), "moon," or "man."  "Gah" can mean "clock," "car," "cat," or "can" (as in "trash can").  "Dah" can mean "dog," "Esthela" (the babysitter), "daddy," or "duck."  He's starting to add nuances to his pronunciations, though.  More and more often he says "mama" and "dada" to call Michael and me.  "Moon" is often "moo" and not just "mah."  "Man" is often "maa" (same vowel sound as in "bad").&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's added a new sound recently: "beh" (the same vowel sound as in "bed").  This sound means "bear," "belt," or "pear."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's also started (just barely) communicating two ideas in one "sentence."  Earlier today he was holding a phone and looking outside to the street.  He looked at me and said, "bah, gah," which means "phone, car."  He was holding the phone and looking at cars driving by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else?  He calls my father "bah bah" (for "papa") and he calls his cousin Aidan "ay!" (the exclamation point is intentional; he gets so excited when he plays with him.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-5015126824938844224?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/5015126824938844224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=5015126824938844224' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5015126824938844224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5015126824938844224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2009/01/words-such.html' title='Words &amp; Such'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-4320501415671154486</id><published>2008-12-18T12:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T12:57:02.382-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rainy Days</title><content type='html'>It's been cold and rainy for nearly a week.  Simon's got a mild cold, just a runny nose so far, but he still wants to run around and dance.  He also wants to spend a lot of time outside.  Yesterday it rained fairly steadily throughout the day, so he didn't get to go outside much.  At 9:30 in the evening Simon walked over to his Baby Bjorn carrier which was in a heap at the foot of the couch.  He picked it up by one of the straps and held onto to me with his other hand.  He walked me to the front door and tapped the carrier against it.  He looked up at me with hopeful eyes.  He wanted to go for a walk in his carrier.  It was so sweet and so sad.  It was super cold out, so I had to say no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simon's newest word is "car," or as he says, "gah."  When do babies start putting the ends on words?  Simon's main words:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moh (more)&lt;br /&gt;Bah (ball)&lt;br /&gt;Dah (dog)&lt;br /&gt;Duh (duck)&lt;br /&gt;Gah (car)&lt;br /&gt;Moo (moon)&lt;br /&gt;Bah bah (bye-bye)&lt;br /&gt;Bee bee (belly button)&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;Dada&lt;br /&gt;Mama &lt;br /&gt;Baby&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He says other words now and then--like "mow" (mouse)--but these are the ones he uses the most.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sun is starting to come out.  Maybe it'll be warm enough (and dry enough) for Simon to play outside.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-4320501415671154486?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/4320501415671154486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=4320501415671154486' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/4320501415671154486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/4320501415671154486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/12/rainy-days.html' title='Rainy Days'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-329997668705049895</id><published>2008-12-15T16:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-15T17:00:42.520-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dancing to the Rutles</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/JK09kI_FpCc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x2b405b&amp;color2=0x6b8ab6"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/JK09kI_FpCc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x2b405b&amp;color2=0x6b8ab6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/kW04LeGIx1I&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x2b405b&amp;color2=0x6b8ab6"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/kW04LeGIx1I&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x2b405b&amp;color2=0x6b8ab6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-329997668705049895?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/329997668705049895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=329997668705049895' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/329997668705049895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/329997668705049895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/12/dancing-to-rutles.html' title='Dancing to the Rutles'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-2950593803992990379</id><published>2008-12-15T11:52:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-15T12:21:39.476-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Some Dancing</title><content type='html'>Simon has become a dancing fool.  A couple of nights ago Michael and I were showing Simon random music videos on YouTube.  We started with some reggae, then moved on somehow (related videos?) to Fun Boy Three, which led, inevitably, to Bananarama.  Eventually, "I'm Your Venus" came on.  Simon loved it.  He went into a dancing frenzy.  Two minutes or so into the frenzy, Michael turned to me and said, "You should be filming this."  Of course!  I grabbed the camera and got the tail-end of the fury.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="264"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/UwR5KV-EtaY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x2b405b&amp;color2=0x6b8ab6"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/UwR5KV-EtaY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x2b405b&amp;color2=0x6b8ab6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="264"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, the next morning, Simon demanded more videos on Daddy's computer.  He liked this one:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/f5nfExT34gU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x2b405b&amp;color2=0x6b8ab6"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/f5nfExT34gU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x2b405b&amp;color2=0x6b8ab6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's got some nice moves, that guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By far, his favorite band is &lt;a href="http://www.rutles.org/"&gt;the Rutles&lt;/a&gt;.  I grabbed my Rutles cd one day while searching for Simon-friendly music.  I figured I'd give it a shot.  I was surprised by how much Simon liked it.  He asks to listen to it sometimes--by walking over to the cd player in his room and dancing while giving me a "please, Mommy" look.  Video of Simon dancing to the Rutles to follow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-2950593803992990379?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/2950593803992990379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=2950593803992990379' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/2950593803992990379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/2950593803992990379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/12/some-dancing.html' title='Some Dancing'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-7099084134601678161</id><published>2008-12-10T23:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T23:09:03.999-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pretty Boy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SUC7GIgcRaI/AAAAAAAAAHk/4eSBg0hoSa4/s1600-h/Simon-Wig-EarlyNov08-sm2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 386px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SUC7GIgcRaI/AAAAAAAAAHk/4eSBg0hoSa4/s400/Simon-Wig-EarlyNov08-sm2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278424477315384738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's Simon looking fabulous in a blonde wig. About a month ago Michael, Simon, and I traveled to &lt;a href="http://www.wilshirewigs.com"&gt;the wig store&lt;/a&gt; after hours to let a friend borrow a wig for a film project.  Simon and I browsed the hundreds of wigs on display, and I chose what I thought would be a ridiculous style for Simon to try on.  Turns out he looked pretty good.  He didn't hate it either.  Michael took this picture with his iPhone, and he finally sent me a copy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-7099084134601678161?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/7099084134601678161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=7099084134601678161' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7099084134601678161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7099084134601678161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/12/pretty-boy.html' title='Pretty Boy'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SUC7GIgcRaI/AAAAAAAAAHk/4eSBg0hoSa4/s72-c/Simon-Wig-EarlyNov08-sm2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-7430586121932162703</id><published>2008-12-05T23:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T23:48:12.771-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Simon Loves the Drums!</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_OWJ3W603yQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_OWJ3W603yQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Cw_6IoYqoF4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Cw_6IoYqoF4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-7430586121932162703?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/7430586121932162703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=7430586121932162703' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7430586121932162703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7430586121932162703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/12/simon-loves-drums.html' title='Simon Loves the Drums!'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-6586400321483383682</id><published>2008-11-24T11:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T12:10:24.737-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Catching You Up</title><content type='html'>What's up with Simon?  Things.  Lots of things.  Let's see:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* He likes to kick a ball around the house while yelling "Goal!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* He occasionally reaches down to touch his knee, then looks at me and yells "Knee!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* He sings "la, la, la" along with Elmo in "Elmo's Song."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* He loves belly buttons.  He touches one (his own or mom or dad's) and says "bee bee."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I think he understands (but can't say) "penis."  He learned this in the bath last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* He knows the word "breast," and he thinks it's funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* He knows the word "moon" and has said it a few times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* He likes hiding then popping out and yelling "boo!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* He's getting good at playing drums.  Instead of hitting just one drum during a "jam session," he uses all the drums and cymbals.  Well, not the bass drum--that's a separate "session," 'cause he has to stand or sit on the ground to reach it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* He likes grabbing noses, especially mine.  He says "no."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week in the doctor's waiting room there was an 11-month-old boy (I asked his mom) sitting in his stroller when Simon, Esthela, and I got there.  Simon was fascinated.  He walked over to the boy and smiled.  The boy smiled back.  Simon reached out his hand toward the boy and laughed.  The boy also laughed.  It was adorable to watch these little guys introducing themselves and "making friends."  Usually it's Simon who approaches and does all the work, while the other little kid watches uneasily.  Finally, a meeting of equals!  These two guys giggled and stuff until the nurse called Simon into the examination room (aka "chamber of sadness").  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sidebar: Who are these children in strollers?  How do they get there?  Why do they not scream to be let free?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-6586400321483383682?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/6586400321483383682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=6586400321483383682' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6586400321483383682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6586400321483383682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/11/catching-you-up.html' title='Catching You Up'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-3604837245206897831</id><published>2008-11-23T22:44:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T23:31:52.084-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Exhausted</title><content type='html'>Weekends are hard, and Sundays are especially hard.  There's no babysitter helping me out, although sometimes my parents give me a hand with Simon.  Michael is constantly and eternally busy, so on any given day he's good for taking care of Simon for maybe 45 minutes at the most.  Sunday I'm pretty much with Simon every minute of the day.  I probably got about 30-to-45 minutes to myself today, and not all at once.  Simon is now asleep, and here is my free time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel guilty for so enthusiastically looking forward to Simon's bedtime, but there it is.  Simon isn't the play-quietly-on-his-own type so much, so I'm always on the move, trying to keep up with him, trying to find new ways to pass the time.  Simon hates being in the car, which makes it even harder to find entertaining things to do.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I forced him into the car for a short trip to the mall.  I figured it would be fun to look at all the people--and babies.  I also figured Simon would want to walk around and look at all the stuff.  I didn't bring a stroller (Simon doesn't really like being in it anyway) or a baby carrier because I was sure Simon would love to walk on his own (well, with me holding his hand).  But Simon didn't want to walk.  He was so overwhelmed by all the people and stuff, he just wanted me to carry him.  He had a good time, though.  It was my left arm that suffered.  Simon only weighs 16 pounds, 11 ounces (he just had a checkup), but that becomes uncomfortably heavy after an hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought Simon a little stuffed dog at the Disney Store.  He loved it and held onto it the whole time we were at the mall, but I discovered something: Simon may act like he urgently needs to have a toy, but he's just fooling you.  I don't think Simon even noticed the dog once we got home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, an hour of good times at the mall.  We got home at noon.  Still an entire day to fill.  After Simon's first nap, I figured I would force him back into the car to go--somewhere, anywhere.  First, though, we went for a walk up our street.  Some workmen were working on a neighbor's house and they were playing Mexican music in the front yard.  Simon started dancing (in the street) as soon as he heard it, and  led me up the street to the source.  He would have gone up the neighbor's driveway if I had let him.  A couple of the workers noticed Simon and waved.  I told them my son liked their music and they laughed.  It was pretty cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I eventually got Simon into the car.  We went just a couple miles down to Ventura Blvd.  We went to a baby shop and played with toys (yes, I bought one--Simon fooled me again).  Then we walked around outside.  This time Simon wanted to walk, so we spent about 45 minutes walking around the area.  It was really fun.  We saw lots of people, some dogs, hundreds of cars, and lots of trees and flowers.  Simon noticed everything and had something to "say" about most of it.  An old asian man came up to me and asked, "That your son?"  "Yes," I told him.  "He look like you," he said and walked on.  I almost said, "Thanks," but that wasn't the right response.  I don't know what the man's point was.  I said, "Good," and left it at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was nearly 4 o'clock when we got home.  I made some food for us and tried to get Simon to eat it.  That kid is not interested in eating lately.  He's impossible.  Anyway... the day just went on and on and on.  Until 10:40 tonight when Simon went to sleep.  I'm so relieved.  Isn't that terrible?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-3604837245206897831?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/3604837245206897831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=3604837245206897831' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/3604837245206897831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/3604837245206897831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/11/exhausted.html' title='Exhausted'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-8990890621717842027</id><published>2008-11-17T14:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T15:08:16.171-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Simon Had a Birthday!</title><content type='html'>He's a year old.  Here he is dancing to the music of one of his new toys:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Hp9DPUx2uXY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Hp9DPUx2uXY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a pretty good birthday, all in all.  Family and a few friends came over.  We had music, snacks, cake, toys, and at one point, a heated debate on the issue of same-sex marriage.  I eventually had to shut that down, and we resumed the festivities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's Simon on the drums, with the help of Papa:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/z0dahzM66wI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/z0dahzM66wI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all the fires in the area, the air was smoky and unhealthy, but Simon wanted to spend a lot of time outside.  Of course.  We took him for several walks, but he kept wanting more.  There were some sad moments when he walked to the front door and tried to open it, only to hear me say "No, Simon, we're not going outside right now."  Here's Simon enjoying his precious walks:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DasSB0VRRGA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DasSB0VRRGA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/roU_WXlYsCM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/roU_WXlYsCM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a tiring day for me.  I can't imagine how tiring it will be when he's old enough to have a big party with lots of friends running around.  I'm going to start building up my strength.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-8990890621717842027?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/8990890621717842027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=8990890621717842027' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/8990890621717842027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/8990890621717842027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/11/simon-had-birthday.html' title='Simon Had a Birthday!'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-6785242727177235904</id><published>2008-11-14T22:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T23:23:40.068-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm a Genius</title><content type='html'>My mothering skills sometimes leave something to be desired.  I really should have known better.  This evening Simon was searching the top of Michael's desk for something to play with.  I skipped by the obvious hazards (loose change, pencils, etc.) and offered him a wrapped Blow Pop lollipop.  I figured he'd play with the wrapper for a while and get tired of it, but no.  A few minutes after I handed it to him he managed to gnaw through the wrapper and expose the candy (green apple flavor).  What the hell?  I figured he wouldn't be able to unwrap it, and I was right, but I never imagined he would gnaw through plastic.  As soon as I saw that he was sucking on a small exposed patch of candy I took it away.  He screamed as if in pain.  He'd developed a taste for sugar and he wanted more.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's where I made my second mistake.  I gave the Blow Pop back to him.  I was planning on taking him with me to the pharmacy in a few minutes and I didn't want him screaming even before we got in the car.  I gave him the candy and tried desperately to think of a way to get him to turn his attention elsewhere.  Very silly of me.  He was having a great time with his sticky, sugary treasure.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grabbed him and put him in the car.  The second his butt hit the carseat he went nuts, crying and yelling.  I let him keep the lollipop while I buckled him in.  At this point he was no longer interested in eating it, but held it clenched tightly in his hand while he cried.  Fine.  I let him hold it for the entire drive (15 minutes), but in the CVS parking lot I took the lollipop away and threw it outside the car.  Littering, I know, but it was necessary.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took my sobbing baby out of the carseat and took a look at him.  He was so damn sticky.  Like an animal in the wild caring for her young, I licked his cheeks clean and put one of his hands in my mouth to get the stickiness off.  This is when I had a brilliant idea: I should keep some baby wipes in the car so I don't have to tongue-bathe my son.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-6785242727177235904?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/6785242727177235904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=6785242727177235904' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6785242727177235904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6785242727177235904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/11/im-genius.html' title='I&apos;m a Genius'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-8796307563752610812</id><published>2008-11-14T16:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T16:48:50.981-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Squash</title><content type='html'>I feel duty bound to inform the handful of people who may read this that Sweet Dumpling squash is very, very yummy.  I bought a small one the other day--I chose it at random from the squash bin at the market.  Today I baked it, only half expecting it to be edible.  It was really hard to cut in half, so I figured it wasn't ripe enough, but I gave it a go anyway, mainly 'cause I wanted some roasted seeds.  The seeds are good, but the squash is amazing.  I peeled the tough skin away and tried a bite--delicious!  It's naturally sweet and creamy.  I swear it's almost like eating crème brûlée.  Simon likes it a lot.  End transmission.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-8796307563752610812?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/8796307563752610812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=8796307563752610812' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/8796307563752610812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/8796307563752610812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/11/squash.html' title='Squash'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-6855208164442643</id><published>2008-11-11T22:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T22:45:10.564-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Soccer Baby</title><content type='html'>Here is Simon kicking the ball around the house.  He's been doing this for about two months, and  I finally captured it on video.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/9HNsxcYi4LI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/9HNsxcYi4LI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-6855208164442643?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/6855208164442643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=6855208164442643' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6855208164442643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6855208164442643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/11/soccer-baby.html' title='Soccer Baby'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-993494918813518922</id><published>2008-11-06T16:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T16:22:44.899-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Great-Grandma</title><content type='html'>Today Simon and I visited Simon's 90-year-old great-grandmother.  I was completely stunned when this woman brought up Barack Obama and said to me: "He's absolutely gorgeous.  He's very sexy."  I couldn't believe my ears.  I gave her a big hug and laughed and laughed.  This was the last person I would have imagined finding Obama sexy.  She had never spoken to me about him in any context before.  Hilarious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-993494918813518922?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/993494918813518922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=993494918813518922' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/993494918813518922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/993494918813518922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/11/great-grandma.html' title='Great-Grandma'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-8223263492931056500</id><published>2008-11-06T13:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T13:06:39.846-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Apple</title><content type='html'>A few days ago I filmed Simon eating an apple.  It's not exciting or anything, but here it is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-uYW-Kk3xu8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-uYW-Kk3xu8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-8223263492931056500?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/8223263492931056500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=8223263492931056500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/8223263492931056500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/8223263492931056500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/11/apple.html' title='Apple'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-5745826419444072798</id><published>2008-10-31T11:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T12:03:28.038-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Words and Things</title><content type='html'>Simon had his first cold recently.  My sister and Aidan came to visit 2 weeks ago, and I think Aidan brought a cold with him.  Both Simon and I got sick, but nothing too bad, just a lot of snot!  That didn't stop us from having fun with Karen and Aidan, though.  We went swimming, visited a petting zoo, ran around outside, had a slumber party, and did other fun things.  Simon was thrilled to be around Aidan.  He doesn't know any other little kids (although Aidan prefers to be called a "big kid"), and he was excited to make a friend (as much as an 11-month-old can make a friend).  Unfortunately, I think Simon's teething again--he had some pretty cranky and touchy moments while Karen and Aidan were here, and he still acts like his gums are bothering him every now and then.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some things that Simon knows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* The word "more."  When he wants more of something he says "moh."  It's cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* If I ask, "Where is your mouth?" he touches his mouth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* If I ask, "Where are your ears?" he grabs one of his ears. I don't know how he learned this. I've only casually mentioned that those things on the sides of his head are called "ears."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* If I ask, "Where's the bunny rabbit?" he touches one of his stuffed bunnies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* If I ask, "Where is Elmo?" he touches his Elmo toy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* If I ask, "Where is the Tickle Pig?" he touches a little pink stuffed pig.  I named him the Tickle Pig because he loves to tickle Simon's feet.  That pig sure loves to tickle!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* If I ask, "Where is Total Sweetie?" he grabs this horrible stuffed-potato-wearing-a-straw-hat toy that Michael jokingly named Total Sweetie.  Do understand, Michael bought this rotten thing at a thrift shop two years ago.  Why? Sheer contrariness, I guess. Simon made the choice to incorporate it into his playtime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, let's speed this up.  Simon also knows these words:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Frog, duck, dog, kitty cat, ball, baby, up, down, airplane, car, Thomas (the Tank Engine), no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure he knows more, but I can't think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, what words does Simon say?  Not many.  He says: ball, baby, more, bye-bye, dog.  He has been known to say mama and dada, but only rarely.  He knows the words, he just doesn't like to say them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-5745826419444072798?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/5745826419444072798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=5745826419444072798' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5745826419444072798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5745826419444072798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/10/words-and-things.html' title='Words and Things'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-7566646617598310761</id><published>2008-10-13T15:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T16:06:28.542-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Thunder, Stolen</title><content type='html'>Sunday morning at 5:30, while rocking Simon back to sleep, I noticed a faint smoky smell I hadn't noticed in my bedroom.  After I put Simon back in his crib I wandered around the house, trying to find the source of the smell.  Our house did not appear to be on fire.  Were the neighbors sitting around a roaring fireplace so early in the morning?  I woke Michael up.  He checked the back yard and said he didn't smell anything, which wasn't what I wanted to hear.  That meant the smoke was coming from somewhere in our house.  "Maybe the attic is on fire," Michael suggested.  We sniffed around some more but came up with no clues.  We went back to bed for two minutes before worry got me up again.  I went out the front door and was hit with a blast of incredibly smoky air.  There was a fire somewhere nearby.  How Michael didn't smell this when he checked the back yard is beyond me, but maybe his nose was still asleep.  I dragged him outside to help me locate the flames, but we couldn't see any.  It was 6 a.m. and a bit chilly.  I accidently closed the front door, locking us out.  How tv sitcom of me!  Luckily, a back door was unlocked and hardship was averted.  We went back to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning I checked the news and found out that the fire had been fairly nearby and had burned 3 acres before being extinguished by several teams of firemen.  Imagine that!  A fire in Sherman Oaks.  I called my parents and my mom answered.  "What are you doing home?  Shouldn't you be at church?" I asked.  "I guess you haven't been watching the news," she said.  True, I hadn't.  I had only searched the Internet for news of a fire in Sherman Oaks.  One that had burned 3 WHOLE ACRES!  My mom then started telling me about the huge fire in the forest and canyons just miles from my parents' house.  It had already burned many hundreds of acres and my parents were expecting evacuation orders any moment.  My crappy 3 acres wasn't really worth mentioning now.  Dang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, they're fine.  The winds seem to have blown the fire farther away from their house, but things could change.  Yesterday, to get to my parents' house I had to take an odd "back door" kind of route to get around the roadblocks.  One of those streets I took yesterday has now been consumed by the fire.  Today an apparently homeless man and his dog were killed in the fire just a block or two from where I was yesterday.  Horrible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-7566646617598310761?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/7566646617598310761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=7566646617598310761' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7566646617598310761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7566646617598310761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-thunder-stolen.html' title='My Thunder, Stolen'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-4849847472051861299</id><published>2008-10-08T11:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T11:42:12.770-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Senator McCain Wants You To Know...</title><content type='html'>that he knows things.  Last night's boring debate mainly served to show me how many times McCain says he KNOWS how to do something or KNOWS what it's like to experience something.  Here is the rundown:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* "And we've got to give some trust and confidence back to America.  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I know how to do that&lt;/span&gt;, my friends."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* "But &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I know how to get America working again&lt;/span&gt;, restore our economy and take care of working Americans."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* "And I've been supporting those and &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I know how to fix this economy&lt;/span&gt;, and eliminate our dependence on foreign oil, and stop sending $700 billion a year overseas."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* "We're going to have to sit down across the table, Republican and Democrat, as we did in 1983 between Ronald Reagan and Tip O'Neill.  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I know how to do that&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I know that we can reprocess the spent nuclear fuel&lt;/span&gt;. The Japanese, the British, the French do it. And we can do it, too."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* "So you have to temper your decisions with the ability to beneficially affect the situation and realize you're sending America's most precious asset, American blood, into harm's way. And, again, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I know those situations&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* "But the point is that &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I know how to handle these crises&lt;/span&gt;. And Senator Obama, by saying that he would attack Pakistan, look at the context of his words. I'll get Osama bin Laden, my friends. I'll get him. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I know how to get him&lt;/span&gt;.  I'll get him no matter what and I&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; know how to do it&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I know what it's like&lt;/span&gt; in dark times. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I know what it's like&lt;/span&gt; to have to fight to keep one's hope going through difficult times. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I know what it's like&lt;/span&gt; to rely on others for support and courage and love in tough times.  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I know what it's like&lt;/span&gt; to have your comrades reach out to you and your neighbors and your fellow citizens and pick you up and put you back in the fight."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;In contrast, here is the one time Obama said that he KNOWS something: "But here's what I do know: I know that I wouldn't be standing here if it weren't for the fact that this country gave me opportunity."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's pretty much what I took away from the debate.  It was mostly the same old thing, with the same old talking points.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-4849847472051861299?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/4849847472051861299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=4849847472051861299' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/4849847472051861299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/4849847472051861299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/10/senator-mccain-wants-you-to-know.html' title='Senator McCain Wants You To Know...'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-7554027982756665487</id><published>2008-10-06T14:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T15:28:09.322-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh, Just Things...</title><content type='html'>What the hell do you title a grabbag of random information?  I rest my case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simon had his 9-month checkup today.  He'll be 11 months old in 10 days, but his doctor was booked solid until now.  His weight is still off the chart, but he's now an exciting 16 pounds, 0.4 ounces!  The doctor says he's following his own growth curve and is doing fine.  He hasn't grown much lengthwise.  He's 27.6 inches long.  There was a big (and surprising) growth spurt in the last month, however: Simon's head has blossomed to 18 inches in circumference, putting him in the 50th percentile.  My little monstro is average-sized somewhere!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the doctor's waiting room, Simon was gregarious and ready for action.  He wanted to go up to all the little kids and... what?  I don't know, play with them, I guess.  There was a two-or-three-year-old boy playing with one of the waiting room activity blocks, and Simon walked right up to him and said, "Aa-eh!"  This is his all-purpose word, said in a rising tone.  It usually means, "I want that!"  The little boy was shy and didn't know what to make of Simon.  The boy's older brother said to him, "Dile 'hi,'" ("Say 'hi'"), but the boy just stared at Simon.  Simon wanted to be walked around the waiting room so he could look at everything.  He went up to a couple of babies and toddlers in their strollers and made noises at them.  None of the other kids were interested in being his friend, but the parents found him charming.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inside the examining room, things changed.  Simon was crabby.  He didn't want his clothes taken off and he didn't want anyone touching him.  He didn't even like just waiting for the doctor to come in.  He just wanted out of there.  He got a flu shot at the end of the visit, and of course he cried, but not any harder than when the doctor was examining his ears.  In fact, he calmed down faster after the shot than after the ear check.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simon has learned how to clap his hands.  He's very proud.  If you ask him, "Can you clap your hands?" he stops what he's doing and claps.  He also says ball ("bah") and "baby," but not reliably.  He sometimes calls everything "bah."  But he knows what I'm talking about if I say, "Where's the ball?"  And if I say, "Simon, where's the baby?" he looks around the room for the baby doll and smiles at it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday afternoon Simon did not want me out of his sight.  I got Michael to watch him while I took a shower, and I could hear Simon crying from the other room.  While I was washing my hair, Michael opened the door and carried Simon into the bathroom so he could see Mommy.  I wasn't pleased.  I can't even take a shower in peace.  And it didn't calm Simon down.  He wanted me to hold him and he was still crying.  Stressful.  So I rushed my shower, barely dried off, got mostly dressed, and took Simon in my arms for a few minutes.  Geez!  I asked Michael why he couldn't let me enjoy a few minutes alone, and he said that Simon wouldn't stop crying for me.  Is that a good reason?  I don't think so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-7554027982756665487?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/7554027982756665487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=7554027982756665487' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7554027982756665487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7554027982756665487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/10/oh-just-things.html' title='Oh, Just Things...'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-1664669036024822357</id><published>2008-10-02T19:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T11:15:33.457-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Don't Like Sarah Palin</title><content type='html'>That exaggerated folksiness is really annoying.  And how many times can she tell us what a "consummate maverick" John McCain is?  Does anyone buy that?  She's like some creepy saleswoman trying to push her product, forever touting its "maverickness" with a maniacal smile.  If she were speaking to me in person, I'd be desperately thinking of a way to flee.  I'm not impressed.  It's not enough to endlessly repeat this "maverick" bullshit.  It's reality that matters more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And why does she pronounce it "nuc-you-ler"?  Dear God!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-1664669036024822357?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/1664669036024822357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=1664669036024822357' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/1664669036024822357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/1664669036024822357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-dont-like-sarah-palin.html' title='I Don&apos;t Like Sarah Palin'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-5334099177544738678</id><published>2008-09-29T15:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T16:00:29.416-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So Far So Good</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow some "real" painters are going to start working on the house.  They say it'll take two-to-three days to do everything.  That's what I like to hear.  If we had left things up to Wingus and Dingus, it's not an exaggeration to say that the painting would have gone on for another three weeks!  At least!  That would have pushed me into the murder-suicide mindset.  Okay, not really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We hired some cleaning wizards (no sarcasm here) to clean the plaster dust from the floors and other surfaces, and they did a fantastic job.  I was beginning to think there was something about this house that brought out the worst in everyone, but these people did quality work.  We had previously tried Merry Maids on two different occasions, but they sucked and were expensive.  I was starting to get used to sucky expensive work.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been so annoyed by all the commotion in my house that I've kind of forgotten that it's a really nice place.  It's a great house.  I'm just sick to death of half-finished projects and endless mess and noise.  And Simon doesn't like it either.  He needs room to explore without Mommy ruining his fun by snatching him away from workers' tools and plaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here he is, scrubbed free of plaster dust:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SOFd1cSfoEI/AAAAAAAAAFg/GA06hZWUQ3E/s1600-h/Bath-09-15-08-3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SOFd1cSfoEI/AAAAAAAAAFg/GA06hZWUQ3E/s400/Bath-09-15-08-3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251581813198921794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-5334099177544738678?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/5334099177544738678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=5334099177544738678' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5334099177544738678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5334099177544738678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/09/so-far-so-good.html' title='So Far So Good'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SOFd1cSfoEI/AAAAAAAAAFg/GA06hZWUQ3E/s72-c/Bath-09-15-08-3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-2850462164111314715</id><published>2008-09-24T16:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T16:28:07.088-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Driving</title><content type='html'>Yesterday afternoon at 5:30 I put Simon in my car and headed out to my parents' house.  I carefully chose that time to coincide with Simon's afternoon nap, so he would sleep most of the way and spare me the crying and screaming.  It didn't work so well, though.  He screamed for 20 minutes before falling asleep.  Bumper-to-bumper traffic and Simon screaming most of the way.  He really lost it.  After awhile I could tell he was trying to stop crying but couldn't.  He was just hysterical.  I'm sure my blood pressure spiked to a dangerous level.  I was 10 minutes away from my parents' house when Simon finally conked out, leaving me with lots of time to kill driving around while he slept.  On the bright side: if it hadn't been nap time, Simon would have screamed for the entire 30-minute drive.  I guess I saved myself 10 minutes of screaming.  Pretty sweet, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came back home today during his first nap (at noon), and I'll be going back to the parents' at around 5:30 again.  Yes, I am subjecting myself to awful traffic and uncontrollable screaming.  Why?  Because it's preferable to spending the evening at my house.  I still have stuff to do at home, so I'm planning on coming back again tomorrow morning.  Yes, I found a new time to travel with Simon!  Normally, he wakes up some time around 6 or 7 a.m. and then sleeps with me on the couch in his room for another hour or so.  There is nowhere for us to snuggle and sleep together at my parents' house, so lately he's been denied his last hour or two of slumber.  That hour or two is the key to my diabolical plan.  I'll strap him in the car at 7 tomorrow morning and let him sleep as I drive back home.  Isn't that just gorgeous?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow we have a new painter coming to assess the damage and give us an estimate for finishing the job.  We're stopping the gravy train for the current workers.  They're out.  Let's hope this new guy isn't a total bastard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-2850462164111314715?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/2850462164111314715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=2850462164111314715' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/2850462164111314715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/2850462164111314715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/09/driving.html' title='Driving'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-206652200802741611</id><published>2008-09-23T16:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T16:59:18.993-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Parade</title><content type='html'>Because the Kings Among Men who are patching and painting our house are still (yes, still) trudging bravely onward, Simon and I will again be going back to Nonna and Papa's.  The poor little guy was crawling down the hallway last night, and halfway to his destination I realized that the floor is still lightly coated with plaster dust.  I grabbed him up and saw his entire front dusted with white.  There was a lot of screaming in our house last night.  Because there was no clean spot for him to safely explore.  I'm not a neat freak by any stretch of the imagination, but when my child starts looking like a mime, the game is over.  Sandra Bernhard once said, "I have no time for mime."  I agree.  Also, how f***ing healthy is it to breathe this dust?  Every day there's a new f***ing deposit of the stuff.  I don't have time to mop down every inch of floor every few hours.  Simon's in the pull-up-on-everything-and-possibly-fall-over stage right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sidebar:  Who do I think I'm fooling with this "f***" crap?  Why don't I just follow convention and go with "f*ck"?  I don't know.  Okay, you talked me into it.  "F*ck" it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Simon will be carted to my parents' house and back home for awhile.  It's a 30-minute drive and Simon hates being locked in his carseat for that long.  So, I try to drive only at nap times so he can sleep most of the way.  Simon only naps twice a day, once around noon and again around 5 p.m.  This limits my travel options.  He also only naps for 35-to-55 minutes at a time, which limits travel to a 30-mile radius.  Unless I want to hear constant screaming.  I don't.  I need to come home tomorrow for awhile, so I'm planning that for his first nap, around noon.  Then I'll go back to my parents' house during his second nap.  Heads will f*cking (see?) roll if Simon changes his napping habits.  I guess only one head will actually roll, and it will be mine.  What if Simon decides he only wants one nap tomorrow?  I'll be trapped at home.  This ever-dusty hellhole of a home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-206652200802741611?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/206652200802741611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=206652200802741611' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/206652200802741611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/206652200802741611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/09/baby-parade.html' title='Baby Parade'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-2339654825295995668</id><published>2008-09-23T13:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T13:44:28.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun with Nonna and Papa</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/iluhlTH9s8Q&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/iluhlTH9s8Q&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-2339654825295995668?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/2339654825295995668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=2339654825295995668' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/2339654825295995668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/2339654825295995668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/09/fun-with-nonna-and-papa.html' title='Fun with Nonna and Papa'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-3161944654982761915</id><published>2008-09-23T13:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T13:43:00.006-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Riding Poomba</title><content type='html'>Hangin' out with Nonna and Papa and Poomba.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/iAVEtHy947A&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/iAVEtHy947A&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-3161944654982761915?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/3161944654982761915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=3161944654982761915' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/3161944654982761915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/3161944654982761915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/09/riding-poomba.html' title='Riding Poomba'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-5631730398624149800</id><published>2008-09-23T13:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T13:42:16.872-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dancing</title><content type='html'>More fun times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wywDWKfdtQo&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wywDWKfdtQo&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-5631730398624149800?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/5631730398624149800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=5631730398624149800' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5631730398624149800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5631730398624149800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/09/dancing.html' title='Dancing'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-4373712230392384666</id><published>2008-09-23T13:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T13:39:22.774-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Simon "Walking"</title><content type='html'>Simon and I stayed at Nonna and Papa's house over the weekend.  Simon had a blast.  Here's Papa helping Simon walk around:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/yiOXgYOAwcE&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/yiOXgYOAwcE&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-4373712230392384666?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/4373712230392384666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=4373712230392384666' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/4373712230392384666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/4373712230392384666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/09/simon-walking.html' title='Simon &quot;Walking&quot;'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-7627870441560742945</id><published>2008-09-23T12:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T12:58:45.754-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Simon Passed All His Tests</title><content type='html'>Medical tests, that is.  A couple of weeks ago I took Simon to a pediatric gastroenterologist.  His doctor just wanted to make sure his low weight isn't being caused by a medical disorder, so she referred him to this specialist.  This guy ordered a whole slew of tests, even though he assured me they would all most likely come back negative.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They took 4 vials of Simon's blood for something like 12 or 13 tests.  One of the tests was for cystic fibrosis, a condition I've been afraid Simon might possibly have--you know, in the wee hours of the morning when you obsess about doomsday scenarios.  So, I now have confirmation that Simon is CF-clear.  Woo-hoo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was the stool sample.  Anyone ever have to do this?  They gave me a biohazard zip-lock bag with a specimen jar and two wooden tongue-depressor-like sticks.  Nice!  I was instructed to collect the sample, put ice cubes in the bag, and deliver it to the lab within two hours.  No problem, right?  Well, it took me 10 days to get that sample to the lab.  The lab in pediatrics closes at 5 p.m., is closed from noon to 2 p.m., and is closed on weekends.  The timing was always wrong.  I was on diaper alert during the daytime, but Simon prefers to do certain things in the evenings, I guess.  I eventually had to take it to the central hospital lab, which stays open until 11 p.m.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, after all these damn tests I feel confident that Simon is just fine.  He's healthy and strong and smart.  I'm not going to constantly weigh him.  I'm not going to freak out when I see chubby, large-headed babies.  I'm not going to see any more specialists or run any more tests.  We're done with that shit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-7627870441560742945?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/7627870441560742945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=7627870441560742945' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7627870441560742945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7627870441560742945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/09/simon-passed-all-his-tests.html' title='Simon Passed All His Tests'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-6941129471522758370</id><published>2008-09-18T16:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T17:05:45.651-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Endless Hell</title><content type='html'>I think there must be a curse on this house.  There is always some home improvement activity going on.  It never ends.  They're patching and painting the walls--and it's been going on for weeks.  How is this possible?  I hate it here.  We've had someone here working on the house at least once a week (with maybe a week off here and there) for over a year.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The morning I went into labor we had two f***ing morons installing a door in the master bathroom.  At 9 a.m. I was pacing the hallway, doing my breathing exercises and listening to power tools whizzing at top volume.  After 30 minutes of that we had to tell them to get the hell out.  What made it extra annoying is that the genius who designed and started installing this sliding door had already been half-assedly (is that a word?) working on this project for a couple of weeks.  Weeks!  It was just a simple door that he had to get fancy with.  This door was not finished until about a month after Simon was born.  And you know what?  It was horrible.  It is horrible.  It's the crappiest door in human history.  It took months to finish.  The genius tried to get us to pay him many thousands of dollars for it.  We only asked for a regular, easy door.  He got experimental with it and f***ed it up and had to restart from scratch, but he wanted us to pay him for all his time.  Let me tell you: IT DOESN'T EVEN CLOSE ALL THE WAY!  That's all a door has to do, right?  This one gets stuck halfway and you have to coax it, and even then it doesn't fit flush against the other wall.  Amazing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have these other geniuses now doing the walls and they get paint dust (from sanding) all over the place (even though they lay down tarps).  I have a baby boy who loves to roam around and put things in his mouth.  I don't want him eating paint dust.  Also, there are so many paint splatters--on the wood floors, on wool rugs, on furniture.  I want to kill these people.  There is no end in sight.  Some days they don't show up, and everything takes longer than you can imagine.  They're working on the master bedroom today.  I noticed that they have tracked white paint-dust footprints all through the house.  WTF!  They still have to do Simon's room.  That'll probably take us into next year.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We keep thinking that they're almost done.  That's why we haven't gotten someone else to do the work, but maybe we need to rethink this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before the walls, there was the Adventure of the Copper Pipes.  Before that, the Mystery of the Uneven Floor, the epic Refinishing the Pool saga, the Fixing the Outdoor Tiles thriller, and many more tales of loud noises and disruption.  Simon doesn't know a world without construction work.  I get so tense sometimes when he's napping because I'm afraid a worker will wake Simon up.  There were a few weeks when Simon slept while workers pounded on pipes under the house.  I would tell them that my baby son was sleeping, but sometimes they were still loud.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I absolutely hate it here right now.  The place is a mess, and it's impossible to clean while the workers are mucking everything up.  I keep thinking, "just one more day," but I know it's a lie...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-6941129471522758370?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/6941129471522758370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=6941129471522758370' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6941129471522758370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6941129471522758370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/09/endless-hell.html' title='Endless Hell'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-1539432484026176897</id><published>2008-09-18T11:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T11:45:46.572-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mr. Gummy Is Gone</title><content type='html'>Okay, there has been no sign of Mr. Gummy Bear.  I think we're safe.  I felt a little weird talking to the babysitter about this.  She's wonderful, but she doesn't speak English very well.  Our conversation yesterday kind of bogged down for a while after I asked, "Was there any candy in Simon's diaper this morning?"  It took a while to get things straightened out.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson of the day:  Gummy bears dissolve quite nicely in the tummies of small babies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-1539432484026176897?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/1539432484026176897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=1539432484026176897' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/1539432484026176897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/1539432484026176897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/09/mr-gummy-is-gone.html' title='Mr. Gummy Is Gone'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-1361855780922249108</id><published>2008-09-16T20:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T21:13:09.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Super Mom</title><content type='html'>I accidently let Simon have a gummy bear this afternoon.  I believe it was cherry flavored.  I thought I had taken them all out of the bag, but I guess one was sneaky and stuck to the bottom.  And then Simon found it and put it in his mouth.  It's much harder lately to take stuff out of his mouth, as he now has two bottom teeth and the beginnings of two top teeth and he's not afraid to use them.  I tried to get the candy out of his mouth.  I really did.  But he locked his jaw tight and I couldn't get a finger inside.  So I watched him closely, ever alert for the slightest sign of choking.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, these gummy bears weren't the freshest or softest.  I was worried that he wouldn't be able to "gum" it down enough to swallow.  I guess he didn't have much problem, because about 30 minutes after he popped it in his mouth, I managed to get a clear look and saw that it was gone.  Did he swallow it whole?  Will I change his diaper tomorrow and find a nearly intact gummy bear?  Good going, mom.  I hope he doesn't expect more corn syrup and red dye treats in the future. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the plus side, though: my calculations show that that single gummy bear provided my son with 8 calories!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-1361855780922249108?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/1361855780922249108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=1361855780922249108' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/1361855780922249108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/1361855780922249108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/09/super-mom.html' title='Super Mom'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-79279937369971576</id><published>2008-09-10T18:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T18:19:40.574-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh, Baby</title><content type='html'>This is a look at what bedtimes can look like at our house.  There's no winding down here.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/GnJ_yyhYafA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/GnJ_yyhYafA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-79279937369971576?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/79279937369971576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=79279937369971576' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/79279937369971576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/79279937369971576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/09/oh-baby.html' title='Oh, Baby'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-8063384697749313984</id><published>2008-09-04T11:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T11:47:51.917-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First Word, I Think</title><content type='html'>I'm pretty sure this counts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/skhMnAoll34&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/skhMnAoll34&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just happened to be filming him at the right time yesterday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-8063384697749313984?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/8063384697749313984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=8063384697749313984' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/8063384697749313984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/8063384697749313984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/09/first-word-i-think.html' title='First Word, I Think'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-3140734055153250176</id><published>2008-09-03T15:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T16:06:22.977-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Monstro, the Baby Monster</title><content type='html'>My sister coined that phrase, and it really applies to my son.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SL8S8-G3JbI/AAAAAAAAAFI/DOJOKPQvEPM/s1600-h/Feeding-08-29-08-sm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SL8S8-G3JbI/AAAAAAAAAFI/DOJOKPQvEPM/s400/Feeding-08-29-08-sm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241929329955775922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He loves to be a monster.  My back has gone out again from trying to comply with his wishes.  Wishes such as holding his hands while he walks up and down the stairs to Michael's office (the garage, really)--over and over and over.  Wishes such as wanting to climb over Michael's drums to get to the ones he wants to bang on (Mommy eventually said no to this one and had to endure much screaming).  Wishes such as wanting to climb up onto exercise equipment and then jump off onto the living room couch (this was made baby-safe by Mommy).  What else does he want to do?  Oh, yeah: walk up and down our driveway, which is a pretty steep hill.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SL8WSUWiclI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/MFkkrapGG00/s1600-h/Driveway-090308.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SL8WSUWiclI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/MFkkrapGG00/s400/Driveway-090308.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241932995239244370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He doesn't get tired of this.  He also loves to walk up and down the steps in our front yard.  Here is a picture of just the last section of steps:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SL8Wm53u9BI/AAAAAAAAAFY/HFLOWplqfik/s1600-h/Steps-090308.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SL8Wm53u9BI/AAAAAAAAAFY/HFLOWplqfik/s400/Steps-090308.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241933348907971602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He climbs them fast, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, my back is really bad.  It's my lower back, the sacrum area.  I can barely walk, let alone lift Simon.  My parents are coming over at 5:30 to help after the babysitter goes home.  Yes, I use a babysitter to help with Simon, even though I'm at home at the time.  If I didn't have help, I wouldn't be able to do my work (I cyber-commute).  If my back doesn't get better soon, my life is going to be a disaster.  I can't lift Simon out of his crib to nurse at night.  I can't move fast enough to keep up with him during the day.  This makes for potentially unsafe situations.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Help!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-3140734055153250176?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/3140734055153250176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=3140734055153250176' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/3140734055153250176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/3140734055153250176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/09/monstro-baby-monster.html' title='Monstro, the Baby Monster'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SL8S8-G3JbI/AAAAAAAAAFI/DOJOKPQvEPM/s72-c/Feeding-08-29-08-sm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-7089231486987706937</id><published>2008-09-03T15:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T15:38:46.039-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nursing Fun</title><content type='html'>Lately Simon has decided that my breasts are hilarious.  He nurses for a while, then crawls or squirms away, then looks back at my breast and laughs out loud.  He can't resist coming back for more.  Usually he crawls back to me, pulls himself up, and bends over for boob access.  He nurses like that for awhile, standing, a little bent over, with his butt in the air.  Sometimes he does a little bouncy dance, too.  It's really cute.  When he's done, he moves away, then looks back and laughs again.  He'll come back a few more times before he's fully done nursing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-7089231486987706937?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/7089231486987706937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=7089231486987706937' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7089231486987706937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7089231486987706937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/09/nursing-fun.html' title='Nursing Fun'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-7880439929033875827</id><published>2008-09-01T18:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T16:39:55.377-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Guardian Angel?</title><content type='html'>If my guardian angel is anything like me, she's probably still working on trying to get me a date with that guy Ruben I liked in 9th grade.  Sure, she's probably got my back on the "big things," like making sure Simon doesn't fall out of my arms while we sleep/snuggle on the couch in his bedroom in the early hours of the morning, but I imagine she's bogged down with the little things.  I imagine there's a lot of disorganization in her "in" pile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Cause there sure is in mine.  Combine that with the time deficit I'm experiencing (aka "baby time") and you get a woman who has had her Dell laptop for 11 months and has yet to call tech support to fix a problem with the DVD region setting.  For some impossible reason, my DVD region came set to Europe, so I can't play any of my American DVDs.  I've been meaning to call Dell about this, but it's just not my top priority, and that means that it doesn't get done.  In fact, I don't don't even know where my warranty info is.  It's in some pre-Simon area of my office.  I think the warranty is only for one year, so I had better get moving on this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With Simon becoming more and more mobile, I barely have time to get dressed in the morning.  In fact, I haven't bothered to do so for two days now.  I just wake up and go.  I look scary in these black sweats that have stains from multiple meals on them.  Looking down, I can see several islands of gunky rice remains, a smear of yogurt, and many splotches of avocado and banana.  I actually found time to do laundry yesterday, but I haven't found the time to replace my dirty clothes with the clean ones.  I don't really have time to write this, but I'm forcing myself.  Otherwise, I'll be stuck with an insurmountable backlog of thoughts to sort through, and I'll be just as bogged down as my angel.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-7880439929033875827?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/7880439929033875827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=7880439929033875827' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7880439929033875827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7880439929033875827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/09/guardian-angel.html' title='Guardian Angel?'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-6821984354914293059</id><published>2008-08-26T22:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T22:04:13.202-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Crawling</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SPglomF5XDU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SPglomF5XDU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From 8/25/08.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-6821984354914293059?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/6821984354914293059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=6821984354914293059' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6821984354914293059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6821984354914293059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/08/crawling.html' title='Crawling'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-6813131432294039794</id><published>2008-08-26T22:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T22:03:24.002-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reading</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jdiNtvJi5SY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jdiNtvJi5SY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From 8/25/08.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-6813131432294039794?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/6813131432294039794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=6813131432294039794' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6813131432294039794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6813131432294039794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/08/reading.html' title='Reading'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-8930149204280014750</id><published>2008-08-25T18:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T18:26:09.025-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Laughing</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SuLjvIBQRh8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SuLjvIBQRh8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-8930149204280014750?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/8930149204280014750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=8930149204280014750' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/8930149204280014750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/8930149204280014750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/08/laughing.html' title='Laughing'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-4173163368378303799</id><published>2008-08-25T16:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T16:27:33.016-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Short Walk</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SZTNwry7kJ0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SZTNwry7kJ0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-4173163368378303799?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/4173163368378303799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=4173163368378303799' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/4173163368378303799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/4173163368378303799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/08/short-walk.html' title='A Short Walk'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-7449567349803217563</id><published>2008-08-25T15:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T15:19:15.425-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Slime Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/MOdVwtqcSwA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/MOdVwtqcSwA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fun times on the 24th.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-7449567349803217563?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/7449567349803217563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=7449567349803217563' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7449567349803217563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7449567349803217563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/08/slime-time.html' title='Slime Time'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-5258280257086100782</id><published>2008-08-03T08:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T08:08:03.152-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Playing</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Tb6qGtGtfU8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Tb6qGtGtfU8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-5258280257086100782?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/5258280257086100782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=5258280257086100782' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5258280257086100782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5258280257086100782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/08/playing.html' title='Playing'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-3315433542876361921</id><published>2008-07-29T15:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T15:22:54.962-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hernia News</title><content type='html'>It's the best news: Simon doesn't have a hernia.  The consulting surgeon could find no sign of one.  The surgical resident couldn't either.  Awesome!  My little guy won't have to go under the knife.  I guess Simon's pediatrician was a little overcautious and saw hernia where there was only a little fat pad in the groin area.  The surgeon said the fat pad should go away in time.  So that's where Simon's been storing his fat!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-3315433542876361921?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/3315433542876361921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=3315433542876361921' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/3315433542876361921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/3315433542876361921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/07/hernia-news.html' title='Hernia News'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-902758097282778270</id><published>2008-07-29T15:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T15:16:06.612-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We Survive A Moderate Earthquake!</title><content type='html'>No news here.  It scared the hell out of me, but nothing bad happened.  It was only a magnitude 5.4 and the epicenter was about 40 miles away, but it felt pretty damn strong.  Simon's first earthquake!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only consequence: I was so shaken it took me 25 minutes to remember what I had been doing when the shaking began.  I finally remembered when I noticed a used nursing pad on the ground near the trash can.  That's it: I had been replacing a nursing pad.  I had thrown the old one away and had missed the trash can, and while I was leaning over to pick it up the earthquake struck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-902758097282778270?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/902758097282778270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=902758097282778270' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/902758097282778270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/902758097282778270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/07/we-survive-moderate-earthquake.html' title='We Survive A Moderate Earthquake!'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-4261748474693343593</id><published>2008-07-25T19:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T21:59:04.358-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Teeth</title><content type='html'>Finally... Simon is getting his first tooth.  I saw a little tiny dash of white on his lower gums yesterday, but wasn't sure it was a tooth.  I couldn't feel any bump--his gums were as smooth as they've always been. Today I checked his gums and I could feel the tooth--a genuine "for real" tooth!  It grew quite a bit overnight.  The days of the cute gummy smiles are coming to an end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SIqvCedpABI/AAAAAAAAAE4/okb04DIuR54/s1600-h/Simon-06-15-08-sm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SIqvCedpABI/AAAAAAAAAE4/okb04DIuR54/s400/Simon-06-15-08-sm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227182774588866578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-4261748474693343593?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/4261748474693343593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=4261748474693343593' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/4261748474693343593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/4261748474693343593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/07/teeth.html' title='Teeth'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SIqvCedpABI/AAAAAAAAAE4/okb04DIuR54/s72-c/Simon-06-15-08-sm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-1032761944197422523</id><published>2008-07-17T14:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T14:30:48.599-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Latest</title><content type='html'>Very busy around here.  Simon is 8 months old as of yesterday.  Somehow I'm managing to teach/direct our Summer Theater program 3 days a week.  Simon comes with me and plays with a babysitter most of the time.  But every once in a while (several times a day) he cries and needs a visit from Mommy.  And I have to drive him around to get him to take his mid-day nap.  This nap tends to last 27 minutes.  He's amazing with the short naps.  The kids in theater love him.  A 12-year-old girl even sewed a baby quilt for him!  That's his Official Park Blanket now and he uses it all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still trying to fatten Simon up, although I have no idea how well it's working.  I'm too scared to weigh him, as I'm tired of being disappointed.  I'm now adding powdered egg yolk to some of his meals, for the added calories, fat, and protein.  I introduced yogurt to him last week and he liked that a lot, too.  I just don't understand what he does with all the calories I cram into him.  What would he do without all my extra efforts?  Starve to death?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simon is crawling all over the place now.  He's starting to pull up almost to standing, but the problem is he can't stand yet.  He's getting better, though.  He loves to stand and walk, so I have to hold him up or hover while he's holding himself up.  Tiring.  The weird thing is he hates to sit.  He almost never does it.  When he does, he can hold himself up pretty well, but he's always reaching for things and tipping over.  I would love it if he would sit by himself and play with a toy, but that's not the way it works around here.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We go to see a pediatric surgeon for a consultation about the inguinal hernia on July 28.  I'm not looking forward to it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-1032761944197422523?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/1032761944197422523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=1032761944197422523' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/1032761944197422523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/1032761944197422523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/07/latest.html' title='The Latest'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-6862135063794487438</id><published>2008-07-03T15:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T16:10:44.897-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Puzzlemaster</title><content type='html'>Here's Simon playing with a puzzle, from 6/30/08.  Yes, he's wearing leg warmers (to protect his knees, okay?):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-4ee6b155fd82e77e" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v1.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D4ee6b155fd82e77e%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330421566%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4582946491A44E4E6D54578C000072BC8BE34297.59A93D04D5AD9ABD2D64E5547E2813615303F702%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D4ee6b155fd82e77e%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DYDfEwfauMnP52rkQj4RSL8wy8uY&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v1.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D4ee6b155fd82e77e%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330421566%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4582946491A44E4E6D54578C000072BC8BE34297.59A93D04D5AD9ABD2D64E5547E2813615303F702%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D4ee6b155fd82e77e%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DYDfEwfauMnP52rkQj4RSL8wy8uY&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-6862135063794487438?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=4ee6b155fd82e77e&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/6862135063794487438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=6862135063794487438' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6862135063794487438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6862135063794487438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/07/puzzlemaster.html' title='The Puzzlemaster'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-6276720859297643809</id><published>2008-07-03T13:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T13:45:40.789-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Medical News</title><content type='html'>Last week Simon saw his doctor to follow up on the weight issue.  The good news is he grew an inch since his checkup a month ago.  He's in the 25th percentile for height.  More good news is that the blood tests came back normal.  The okay news is that Simon only gained 9.2 ounces in the last month.  I was hoping for more, but it's better than he did the month before last.  He's still below the 5th percentile for weight, but the doctor says he's started a new curve upward.  Hooray!  I've been stuffing his face with high-calorie foods, but he still burns a lot of it off, especially now that he's learning to crawl.  The doctor thinks everything is fine and that Simon's healthy, since he seems to be thriving in every other area, but she wants to make sure there's no medical reason for his low weight.  They took a urine sample, and that came back normal, too.  Simon had to wear a urine collection bag around his penis and under his diaper until he peed.  Of course he didn't pee for a long time, so I had to go home and drive back to the lab later in the afternoon.  Let me tell you, peeling the adhesive from the bag off of my son's tender skin made my teeth itch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now for the bad news...  Simon has a hernia and needs surgery.  In fact, he might have hernias on both sides of his groin.  We have to go see a pediatric surgeon to find out more details.  Yikes!  It's not an emergency, but it needs to be taken care of.  I can't imagine my baby having surgery, even the supposedly simple surgery of hernia repair.  He might have to stay overnight in the hospital.  That's going to be rotten.  I'm not looking forward to it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-6276720859297643809?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/6276720859297643809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=6276720859297643809' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6276720859297643809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6276720859297643809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/07/medical-news.html' title='Medical News'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-5304523713174446283</id><published>2008-07-03T12:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T13:04:26.932-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Swimming</title><content type='html'>This is from 6/22/08:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-d59d0071f4123bb1" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v18.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dd59d0071f4123bb1%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330421566%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D667E7B5F312DD2ED40B2A2DE213A2F30815B9698.828653B5F408B02723A7C8A0E997CC55B4962782%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dd59d0071f4123bb1%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DHGw2eAj2DN7pt51o0MNFihnLSok&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v18.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dd59d0071f4123bb1%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330421566%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D667E7B5F312DD2ED40B2A2DE213A2F30815B9698.828653B5F408B02723A7C8A0E997CC55B4962782%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dd59d0071f4123bb1%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DHGw2eAj2DN7pt51o0MNFihnLSok&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-5304523713174446283?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=d59d0071f4123bb1&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/5304523713174446283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=5304523713174446283' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5304523713174446283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5304523713174446283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/07/swimming.html' title='Swimming'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-2284746685198097021</id><published>2008-07-03T11:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T11:59:40.202-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Creeping</title><content type='html'>This is from 6/25/08:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-1c6c54d3c0a0426e" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v24.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D1c6c54d3c0a0426e%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330421566%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D7A645E582C091CCD17B4DBA6B718BCD38E561CB8.72CAD5247F5E6135D881091D0F60D2AC1D0EEBB1%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D1c6c54d3c0a0426e%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dqwnm9bmUAePY4GDJyha6ah5F6o8&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v24.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D1c6c54d3c0a0426e%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330421566%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D7A645E582C091CCD17B4DBA6B718BCD38E561CB8.72CAD5247F5E6135D881091D0F60D2AC1D0EEBB1%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D1c6c54d3c0a0426e%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dqwnm9bmUAePY4GDJyha6ah5F6o8&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's improved a lot since then.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-2284746685198097021?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=1c6c54d3c0a0426e&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/2284746685198097021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=2284746685198097021' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/2284746685198097021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/2284746685198097021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/07/creeping.html' title='Creeping'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-6839613556101850951</id><published>2008-07-02T21:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T21:53:50.923-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Laughing</title><content type='html'>This is from 6/17/08:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-6a95a1349c0c5d7f" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v7.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D6a95a1349c0c5d7f%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330421566%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D2711FF97A5A162EF0E33C61A5E4016DAB51AC978.1A1DC414157DF724AF47C017E6253AFD3542E36C%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D6a95a1349c0c5d7f%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DCuuw6j7GsWZDfbNbW4qyVC6Do3c&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v7.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D6a95a1349c0c5d7f%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330421566%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D2711FF97A5A162EF0E33C61A5E4016DAB51AC978.1A1DC414157DF724AF47C017E6253AFD3542E36C%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D6a95a1349c0c5d7f%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DCuuw6j7GsWZDfbNbW4qyVC6Do3c&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-6839613556101850951?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=6a95a1349c0c5d7f&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/6839613556101850951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=6839613556101850951' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6839613556101850951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6839613556101850951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/07/laughing.html' title='Laughing'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-7557649184465487025</id><published>2008-07-02T19:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T19:28:09.881-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Read The Book!</title><content type='html'>I finally read T. Jefferson Parker's &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;California Girl&lt;/span&gt;.  I had to squeeze the reading in nights before going to bed.  Do you know why?  I can't read around Simon 'cause he wants to chew the pages, and he gets crabby if paper is denied him.  So, I read it in small snatches over the last week.  I hate reading that way.  When I get into a book, I like to hole up and read large chunks of it at a time.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The verdict?  I liked it. I was hooked pretty early on, and it was annoying to have to put the book down as often as I had to.  That's all I have time to say about it--Simon's getting snooty and creeping around the living room requesting my assistance.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-7557649184465487025?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/7557649184465487025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=7557649184465487025' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7557649184465487025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7557649184465487025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/07/i-read-book.html' title='I Read The Book!'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-3989194330010896764</id><published>2008-06-17T10:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-17T10:52:22.862-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Book Review</title><content type='html'>In response to my sister's &lt;a href="http://bigzthestreetrat.blogspot.com/2008/06/what-ive-read.html"&gt;rave reviews&lt;/a&gt;, I determined that the next book I read would be a T. Jefferson Parker mystery.  I quickly contacted Amazon and told them to send me &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;California Girl&lt;/span&gt;.  I didn't realize that my parents have the book in their vast mystery library, but I can spend $7.99 on a book, right?  Amazon was swift in getting the paperback to my front door.  This all went down a week ago.  I was all set.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cover art is pretty good, with a girl's (I think) body either floating in water or running in the park.  I can't really tell.  There's a blurb on the front from the &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Wall Street Journal&lt;/span&gt; that says, "A gripping, atmospheric saga... an unforgettable book."  High praise!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the inside back cover there's a photo of Mr. Parker looking kinda early 1990's style.  All in all, he looks like someone who could write an interesting book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay... I haven't read it yet.  Not a word of it.  I actually haven't even read the entire description on the back cover.  I haven't had time to read lately.  That's astonishing, as I was reading a book every one-to-two days only a few months ago.  I just have lots of stuff to do.  There's Simon and my job (I manage to work part-time from my pc at home), and Summer Theater is starting next Monday, and I have been working on script and music issues.  The most I can do with &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;California Girl&lt;/span&gt; is look at it.  Soon, though, I should be able to squeeze the first chapter in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have read the last line of the back cover description.  Here it is: "And no one will emerge from the wreckage unscathed."  Not too shabby.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-3989194330010896764?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/3989194330010896764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=3989194330010896764' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/3989194330010896764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/3989194330010896764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/06/book-review.html' title='Book Review'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-7724617966352027528</id><published>2008-06-14T10:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-14T11:34:37.835-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I've Got a Wiggle Monster</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SFQPLU2VzzI/AAAAAAAAAEw/J-oXXw13AJs/s1600-h/Simon-06-14-08-sm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SFQPLU2VzzI/AAAAAAAAAEw/J-oXXw13AJs/s320/Simon-06-14-08-sm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211807356024114994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In just this last week my sweet little Simon has become a little wiggle monster.  He can't stop moving.  He's starting to creep when we put him down.  He spins around and rolls and grabs everything he can reach.  Nothing and no one is safe.  When I pick him up, he swivels around to check out what's going on behind him.  When I put him down on his changing table, the first thing he does is roll over and start playing with the back railing.  It's getting really hard to change his diaper, and I have to use the safety belt when I take a few steps away, lest he plunge to his doom in a fit of squirming.  And he's constantly babbling.  His current favorite sound is "dah."  He talks all day, and last night when I put him back down after his 2 a.m. feeding, he kept himself up for about ten minutes just talking away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My main function these days is carrying out Operation Fatten Up Simon, and my job has gotten so much harder.  He's burning more calories than ever, and he is so busy interacting with the world it's hard to get his attention when I'm feeding him.  He loves to eat, but he loves to move more I guess.  It's sometimes hard to get him to stop talking long enough to take a bite.  I take my opportunities when I see them, so I try shoving spoonfuls in whenever his mouth is open.  This often backfires, as he likes to talk with the mouthful and spit it out in the process.  When I breastfeed him, he takes frequent (every 5 seconds sometimes) breaks to twist his head around and see what's going on.  This results in sprayed milk, which is why I sometimes call him Milk Face.  Annoying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-7724617966352027528?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/7724617966352027528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=7724617966352027528' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7724617966352027528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7724617966352027528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/06/ive-got-wiggle-monster.html' title='I&apos;ve Got a Wiggle Monster'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SFQPLU2VzzI/AAAAAAAAAEw/J-oXXw13AJs/s72-c/Simon-06-14-08-sm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-8844100700471149182</id><published>2008-06-11T21:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T21:28:44.044-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Britney, Bitch</title><content type='html'>No, seriously it's not.  I just wanted to be like all those other blogs who post about Britney.  Except I don't have anything bad to say about her.  In fact, for the first time ever I find I find myself kind of liking her.  It's all the crazy that she is.  She's a spectacular mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only problem is I have that damn song of hers stuck in my head.  Here's a better version ("Gimme Gimme Shoes"):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/3r088DwXGBE&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/3r088DwXGBE&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-8844100700471149182?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/8844100700471149182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=8844100700471149182' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/8844100700471149182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/8844100700471149182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/06/its-britney-bitch.html' title='It&apos;s Britney, Bitch'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-6379472516395130957</id><published>2008-06-07T19:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-07T19:22:14.845-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ladies &amp; Gentlemen... The Ugliest House I've Seen</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SEtAnyYEsrI/AAAAAAAAAEg/YbG61fmmFX8/s1600-h/Ugly_house.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SEtAnyYEsrI/AAAAAAAAAEg/YbG61fmmFX8/s320/Ugly_house.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209328446265930418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a few streets away from my parents' house and I've been meaning to take a photo of it for at least a month.  Today I finally remembered to bring the camera and do it.  These people PAINTED THE STONES BLUE.  I've never seen anything like it.  Click the picture to see it in its full-size glory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Important note: Taking photos of a house while the owners are home can make you feel like a stalker.  Be quick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If this is your house, I apologize.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-6379472516395130957?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/6379472516395130957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=6379472516395130957' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6379472516395130957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6379472516395130957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/06/ladies-gentlemen-ugliest-house-ive-seen.html' title='Ladies &amp; Gentlemen... The Ugliest House I&apos;ve Seen'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SEtAnyYEsrI/AAAAAAAAAEg/YbG61fmmFX8/s72-c/Ugly_house.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-5468982427428302399</id><published>2008-06-06T16:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-06T16:45:45.552-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Odd Crap In My Purse</title><content type='html'>* Gift summary from my 2nd baby shower (yes, from October)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Three sample packs of Pledge Multi Surface wipes ("This wipe cleans it all!")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* A receipt from the Kaiser pharmacy for Orajel, from April 22.  And Simon's still not teething.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* A note from 9/7/07 that says "Good last name: Thogmartin"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* A tampon.  Odd because I haven't needed one for well over a year now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* A note quoting Laura from 5/19/05 that says "Grr... Last-minute transsexuals."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* An appointment card from my OB/Gyn dated 7/13/07.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* A note with an idea about making yarn (with a spinning wheel) in fast food shades, like "MacDonalds Yarn," and "Taco Bell Yarn."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* A note quoting Michael from 9/13/07: "The future's so hot I gotta wear shorts."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm not taking any of these things out of my purse.  They must all stay there and keep me company on trips away from home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-5468982427428302399?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/5468982427428302399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=5468982427428302399' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5468982427428302399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5468982427428302399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/06/random-odd-crap-in-my-purse.html' title='Random Odd Crap In My Purse'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-813403418385888244</id><published>2008-06-02T21:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T21:44:08.931-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ready To Go</title><content type='html'>Our pool is finished and it's so much better than before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SETKvoKS_7I/AAAAAAAAAEY/ncqXd9rfcKM/s1600-h/Pool-06-02-08.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SETKvoKS_7I/AAAAAAAAAEY/ncqXd9rfcKM/s320/Pool-06-02-08.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207509988730404786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we can go swimming without pool paint rubbing off on us!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-813403418385888244?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/813403418385888244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=813403418385888244' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/813403418385888244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/813403418385888244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/06/ready-to-go.html' title='Ready To Go'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SETKvoKS_7I/AAAAAAAAAEY/ncqXd9rfcKM/s72-c/Pool-06-02-08.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-3177504663344829823</id><published>2008-06-02T13:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T14:00:12.091-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Bought a Baby Scale</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SERfQ4KS_6I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/BZ81JG7H4yc/s1600-h/scale.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SERfQ4KS_6I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/BZ81JG7H4yc/s320/scale.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207391812705255330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I can more obsessively monitor Simon's growth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-3177504663344829823?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/3177504663344829823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=3177504663344829823' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/3177504663344829823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/3177504663344829823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-bought-baby-scale.html' title='I Bought a Baby Scale'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SERfQ4KS_6I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/BZ81JG7H4yc/s72-c/scale.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-7894483692882223592</id><published>2008-05-28T21:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-28T21:42:18.106-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Here's Our Pool</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SD4y4IKS_4I/AAAAAAAAAEA/UMPRc6xgLXk/s1600-h/Pool-05-28-08.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SD4y4IKS_4I/AAAAAAAAAEA/UMPRc6xgLXk/s320/Pool-05-28-08.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205654159131606914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're having our pool resurfaced.  The workers came today and jackhammered the hell out of it.  Simon and I went over to my parents' house, even though the pool guy assured us the jackhammering and plaster crushing weren't loud at all.  Sure, mister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And don't forget the hot tub:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SD40CoKS_5I/AAAAAAAAAEI/_VTqtyzaRoA/s1600-h/Spa-05-28-08.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SD40CoKS_5I/AAAAAAAAAEI/_VTqtyzaRoA/s320/Spa-05-28-08.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205655439031861138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-7894483692882223592?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/7894483692882223592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=7894483692882223592' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7894483692882223592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7894483692882223592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/05/heres-our-pool.html' title='Here&apos;s Our Pool'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SD4y4IKS_4I/AAAAAAAAAEA/UMPRc6xgLXk/s72-c/Pool-05-28-08.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-446419669082045439</id><published>2008-05-28T18:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-28T20:15:35.619-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Worrying Day</title><content type='html'>Today I took Simon to the doctor for his 6 month checkup. Michael and I were eagerly awaiting (and dreading) the weigh-in.  Simon's been so close to the edge in terms of weight.  He started off in the 5th percentile, then dropped to the 2nd.  For the last month I've been extra-obsessive about feeding Simon.  I breastfeed about every two hours or so during the day, sometimes more frequently.  I've chosen the solid foods with the highest calorie counts (thank you, bananas, for being there for us), and I always feed Simon as much as he wants, which is a lot.  He wakes up once or twice in the night, and I feed him then.  I feel like I've been trying to cram as much food as possible down his throat.  So, on to the weigh-in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simon has dropped off the chart.  He has fallen below the weights listed.  He weighs 12 pounds, 14 ounces.  He has gained only 7 ounces in six weeks.  He's 25 1/2" long, which places him in between the 10th and 25th percentiles.  That's also a drop for him.  He hasn't grown in height since his last appointment six weeks ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His doctor ordered blood tests and wants to see him in a month.  I'm to keep breastfeeding him and to increase solids to 3 times a day.  She also okayed avocado, for the calories and fat.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simon did not have a great time today.  He needed his left ear irrigated to remove ear wax so the doctor could check his ear drum (it's great, by the way).  He screamed throughout.  Then he got 3 shots.  More screaming.  Then we went to the pediatrics lab where they took 3 vials of Simon's blood.  He really screamed.  By that time he was sore and cranky and overdue for a nap.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really hope Simon doesn't have anything seriously wrong with him.  They're checking his thyroid, kidneys, and other unspecified things.  If there is a problem the doctor will call by the end of next week.  If there's no problem, we'll wait until his appointment next month and see if he's gained enough weight.  If not, there will be more blood tests.  Yikes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In preparation for this doctor's visit, I went through Simon's sleep log and added up his total sleep hours for each day since the beginning of the month.  The results are not great.  He averages about 11 hours of sleep per day.  This includes nighttime sleep and naps.  He got 12 hours or more on only 5 occasions.  The most he slept in one day was 12 1/2 hours.  This is so far below average.  I don't know what to do.  I can't make him sleep more.  He won't.  He sleeps okay at night these days, but his naps are terrible.  He wakes up after 30-35 minutes.  He gets around an hour and a half of sleep during the day, and that seems to be his limit.  He won't listen to reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe that's why he's so damn thin.  He's awake and active so much.  I don't know.  I'm just worried.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-446419669082045439?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/446419669082045439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=446419669082045439' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/446419669082045439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/446419669082045439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/05/worrying-day.html' title='A Worrying Day'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-458264196417763581</id><published>2008-05-25T21:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-25T21:40:05.248-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This Just Freaks Me Out</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SDo6hzRQAXI/AAAAAAAAAD4/Lx6wC-rW0WM/s1600-h/Scuba_front_sml.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SDo6hzRQAXI/AAAAAAAAAD4/Lx6wC-rW0WM/s320/Scuba_front_sml.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204536671752683890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bugknits.com/"&gt;This woman&lt;/a&gt; knits teeny tiny things.  With teeny tiny needles.  Some needles are so small they're just wires and can accomodate 80 stitches PER INCH.  That is amazing.  And crazy.  I couldn't make most of her designs even full size, but to make a sweater that fits in the palm of your hand?  Where do you find buttons that small?  And what happens if you drop a stitch?  Do you just give up, or do you try to catch and fix it with a microscopic crochet hook?  I don't know how it's possible, but this woman has made some really cool stuff.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-458264196417763581?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/458264196417763581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=458264196417763581' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/458264196417763581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/458264196417763581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/05/this-just-freaks-me-out.html' title='This Just Freaks Me Out'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SDo6hzRQAXI/AAAAAAAAAD4/Lx6wC-rW0WM/s72-c/Scuba_front_sml.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-6407661206552038491</id><published>2008-05-22T22:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T23:03:38.668-07:00</updated><title type='text'>These Are For My Sister</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OMq59GCaIfw&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OMq59GCaIfw&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/q5qJiWGBNrY&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/q5qJiWGBNrY&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Especially check out 06:42 on the last one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-6407661206552038491?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/6407661206552038491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=6407661206552038491' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6407661206552038491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6407661206552038491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/05/this-ones-for-my-sister.html' title='These Are For My Sister'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-597786978946191977</id><published>2008-05-19T15:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T15:44:18.374-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Freaking Hot</title><content type='html'>It's in the 90's right now, and if I asked when you thought my air conditioner conked out, what would you say?  If you're thinking "yesterday," you're right.  It was hotter yesterday, too.  We have two air conditioners in our house (plus another one in the converted garage).  The one that services the front part of the house (living room, dining room, kitchen) now just blows warm air around.  We are not fooled.  The air conditioner that services the bedrooms works okay, but there is something wrong with the air ducts (I think), and the air flow is minimal.  There is an exception and that is Simon's room.  The air flow there is intense, so we have to close the vents at night.  So, there's only one room that is adequately cool and it's too cool.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear our air conditioner works like a dream all winter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-597786978946191977?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/597786978946191977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=597786978946191977' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/597786978946191977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/597786978946191977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/05/its-freaking-hot.html' title='It&apos;s Freaking Hot'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-2242881154284920740</id><published>2008-05-19T11:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T15:28:05.900-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Something Amusing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SDHLeRuv4fI/AAAAAAAAADc/5Ku8AMOXtDw/s1600-h/Cartoon-Dump-cardBlue1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SDHLeRuv4fI/AAAAAAAAADc/5Ku8AMOXtDw/s320/Cartoon-Dump-cardBlue1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202162765605626354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://cartoonbrewfilms.com/cartoondump2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check it out&lt;/a&gt;.  It's got Frank Conniff and sometimes Joel Hodgson.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-2242881154284920740?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/2242881154284920740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=2242881154284920740' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/2242881154284920740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/2242881154284920740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/05/check-it-out.html' title='Something Amusing'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SDHLeRuv4fI/AAAAAAAAADc/5Ku8AMOXtDw/s72-c/Cartoon-Dump-cardBlue1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-1623755459780737744</id><published>2008-05-16T21:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T21:16:45.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Simon Is 6 Months Old</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SC5cDxuv4eI/AAAAAAAAADU/1GQkPHJ-MBE/s1600-h/Simon-Peas-051508-sm2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SC5cDxuv4eI/AAAAAAAAADU/1GQkPHJ-MBE/s320/Simon-Peas-051508-sm2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201195839618277858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's the day.  He's not a little stinker anymore.  He's a mid-sized stinker.  And by  stinker I mean cutie pie.  Actually, he's still pretty little.  Here he waits for another bite of delicious organic peas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-1623755459780737744?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/1623755459780737744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=1623755459780737744' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/1623755459780737744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/1623755459780737744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/05/simon-is-6-months-old.html' title='Simon Is 6 Months Old'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SC5cDxuv4eI/AAAAAAAAADU/1GQkPHJ-MBE/s72-c/Simon-Peas-051508-sm2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-3008720464665231941</id><published>2008-05-12T21:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-12T21:37:41.174-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Soaker</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SCkanBuv4dI/AAAAAAAAADM/Aga52SDSEeo/s1600-h/Simon-Soaker-051208-sm2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SCkanBuv4dI/AAAAAAAAADM/Aga52SDSEeo/s320/Simon-Soaker-051208-sm2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199716502557680082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SCkaVBuv4cI/AAAAAAAAADE/3V_9ULv2LLQ/s1600-h/Simon-Soaker-051208-2-sm-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SCkaVBuv4cI/AAAAAAAAADE/3V_9ULv2LLQ/s320/Simon-Soaker-051208-2-sm-2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199716193320034754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simon is wearing the wool soaker my fabulous sister made for him.  He looks great in it and it really works.  He's soaked it a couple of times and left his sheets dry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-3008720464665231941?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/3008720464665231941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=3008720464665231941' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/3008720464665231941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/3008720464665231941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/05/soaker.html' title='The Soaker'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SCkanBuv4dI/AAAAAAAAADM/Aga52SDSEeo/s72-c/Simon-Soaker-051208-sm2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-3646476188589417710</id><published>2008-05-11T21:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T22:21:15.739-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Wondering</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SCfSCBuv4aI/AAAAAAAAAC0/m881AnEPu7E/s1600-h/t1515a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SCfSCBuv4aI/AAAAAAAAAC0/m881AnEPu7E/s320/t1515a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199355227088609698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's Mother's Day today, and to celebrate I did a few loads of laundry (I guess I wasn't trying very hard).  Our washer and dryer are made by Miele, a German brand.  I always use the "extra dry" dryer setting, and it just occurred to me what a stupid setting that is.  All I ask of a dryer is that my laundry end up dry.  What exactly is "extra dry"?  How is it possible for something to be extra dry?  And why do I choose that setting?  I guess I feel that by choosing "extra dry" I'm increasing the odds that my clothes will actually be dry.  Michael uses the "normal" setting.  I guess that means he's confident that his clothes will get dry without incident.  But me?  I don't have that kind of faith.  In fact, I often inwardly cluck my tongue when I see Michael use the "normal" setting.  "Silly man," I think, "his clothes will never get dry that way."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But isn't this really Miele's fault?  Why have an "extra dry" option if "normal" could get the job done?  Thanks for nothing, Germany.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-3646476188589417710?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/3646476188589417710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=3646476188589417710' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/3646476188589417710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/3646476188589417710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/05/just-wondering.html' title='Just Wondering'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SCfSCBuv4aI/AAAAAAAAAC0/m881AnEPu7E/s72-c/t1515a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-7572156043224178466</id><published>2008-05-10T21:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T22:29:18.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Joel is back!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SCZ_UCnwBlI/AAAAAAAAACs/M1CBCY4OaS0/s1600-h/joel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SCZ_UCnwBlI/AAAAAAAAACs/M1CBCY4OaS0/s320/joel.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198982802123523666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so are TV's Frank and Trace Beaulieu (and others).  See, for Mother's Day (my first), Michael got me the first &lt;a href="http://cinematictitanic.com/wpmu/news/"&gt;Cinematic Titanic&lt;/a&gt; DVD, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The Oozing Skull&lt;/span&gt;, and it's hilarious.  The movie is pretty god awful.  There's a Middle Eastern dictator, a crazy doctor, a dwarf, an imbecile with an acid-mangled face, an atrocious woman with the worst hair imaginable, and so much more.  Well, I've only just started watching it, but I'm liking it a lot.  Sample line: "Yeah, instant death is the death of kings."  Ahh, I missed those guys. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nothing says 'this car hasn't been tampered with' like the popped hood."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-7572156043224178466?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/7572156043224178466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=7572156043224178466' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7572156043224178466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7572156043224178466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/05/joel-is-back.html' title='Joel is back!'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SCZ_UCnwBlI/AAAAAAAAACs/M1CBCY4OaS0/s72-c/joel.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-6435192308132021593</id><published>2008-05-06T22:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T22:56:26.832-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Like Bananas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SCFEg5RQWnI/AAAAAAAAACk/4R8Qr_o9c-o/s1600-h/Simon-EatingBananas-050508-3-sm2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SCFEg5RQWnI/AAAAAAAAACk/4R8Qr_o9c-o/s320/Simon-EatingBananas-050508-3-sm2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197510776881961586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-6435192308132021593?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/6435192308132021593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=6435192308132021593' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6435192308132021593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6435192308132021593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-like-bananas.html' title='I Like Bananas'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SCFEg5RQWnI/AAAAAAAAACk/4R8Qr_o9c-o/s72-c/Simon-EatingBananas-050508-3-sm2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-4039077606326431093</id><published>2008-05-06T22:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T22:47:26.584-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Sigh of Relief</title><content type='html'>Simon has been sleeping much better lately.  I don't know if this can last, but it's almost miraculous.  Simon only woke up once last night.  He did the same two nights ago, plus he slept for 7 hours and 45 minutes straight.  A personal best!  He still usually cries a bit before settling down to sleep, somewhere between 15 and 40 minutes.  However, tonight he went down without a peep.  In his crib.  Like a regular baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His naps, on the other hand...  Well, he's not a nap fan.  He started fighting naps big time last week.  I'd put him down half asleep in his crib and he'd wake himself up to cry and scream.  He could keep it up for an hour, too.  He just wouldn't sleep.  Two days ago I got him to sleep by holding him against my chest.  He napped twice that way.  Yesterday he napped once in his crib, then later in his stroller while I pushed him around.  Today he actually slept in his crib for two naps, and he didn't cry either time.  Two naps a day seems to be his new limit.  And he always wakes up after exactly 35 minutes.  Like clockwork.  I don't care.  I'll take it.  It is so much better than what he was doing before.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-4039077606326431093?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/4039077606326431093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=4039077606326431093' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/4039077606326431093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/4039077606326431093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/05/sigh-of-relief.html' title='A Sigh of Relief'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-9141094754393580371</id><published>2008-05-06T17:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T17:46:49.316-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny Video</title><content type='html'>The original video is funny on its own, but the fake English translation makes it even better:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/TtJRNyPK-lc&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/TtJRNyPK-lc&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually like the song.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-9141094754393580371?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/9141094754393580371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=9141094754393580371' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/9141094754393580371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/9141094754393580371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/05/funny-video.html' title='Funny Video'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-5024921150887740312</id><published>2008-05-05T21:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T21:29:53.922-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Classic</title><content type='html'>Here is an awesomely funky video (and song):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_XOY7lsBVpo&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_XOY7lsBVpo&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I like it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-5024921150887740312?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/5024921150887740312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=5024921150887740312' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5024921150887740312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5024921150887740312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/05/classic.html' title='Classic'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-1977397525772096543</id><published>2008-05-03T21:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T22:03:00.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Small Guy</title><content type='html'>Simon is in the 40th percentile for height and... the 2nd percentile for weight.  That just astounds me.  98% of babies his age weigh more than he does.  His doctor is not concerned with his weight.  That also astounds me.  I've read of pediatricians telling mothers to supplement with formula because their babies are in the 25th percentile, but this doctor says Simon is healthy, so why worry?  Good point.  It's hard not to, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else is worrying?  Oh, that Simon only slept for 11 hours total for last night and today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-1977397525772096543?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/1977397525772096543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=1977397525772096543' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/1977397525772096543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/1977397525772096543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/05/small-guy.html' title='A Small Guy'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-2472615190910776726</id><published>2008-05-02T19:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T20:57:02.945-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How Thrilled Am I?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SBvKkZRQWlI/AAAAAAAAACU/2TDC-y99lTE/s1600-h/Julie-050208-sm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SBvKkZRQWlI/AAAAAAAAACU/2TDC-y99lTE/s320/Julie-050208-sm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195969321709361746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really, how thrilled do I look? Well, don't let the photo fool you.  I'm not as thrilled as all that.  It's nap time at my house of horrors.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little Sweetie:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SBvL35RQWmI/AAAAAAAAACc/MLvWhN4_MiY/s1600-h/Simon-050108-2-xsm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SBvL35RQWmI/AAAAAAAAACc/MLvWhN4_MiY/s320/Simon-050108-2-xsm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195970756228438626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;is not interested in sleeping.  He's more interested in screaming.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-2472615190910776726?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/2472615190910776726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=2472615190910776726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/2472615190910776726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/2472615190910776726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/05/how-thrilled-am-i.html' title='How Thrilled Am I?'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SBvKkZRQWlI/AAAAAAAAACU/2TDC-y99lTE/s72-c/Julie-050208-sm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-5606012249471317573</id><published>2008-05-01T19:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T20:11:12.495-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It Took 4 Hours To Do What?</title><content type='html'>To get Simon to take a 35-minute nap, of course.  He finally fell asleep on the 3rd try.  He's currently crying and babbling his way through his evening nap.  It's been 25 minutes and I'll bet he's not going to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LATER: No, he didn't sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-5606012249471317573?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/5606012249471317573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=5606012249471317573' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5606012249471317573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5606012249471317573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/05/it-took-4-hours-to-do-what.html' title='It Took 4 Hours To Do What?'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-5290449773908935426</id><published>2008-05-01T15:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T15:32:02.162-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mailman Fails To Bring Life-Changing Surprise</title><content type='html'>I really thought today would be the day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-5290449773908935426?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/5290449773908935426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=5290449773908935426' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5290449773908935426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5290449773908935426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/05/mailman-fails-to-bring-life-changing.html' title='The Mailman Fails To Bring Life-Changing Surprise'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-5545826360292068272</id><published>2008-05-01T12:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T19:11:00.252-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Mother Got Lost...</title><content type='html'>...between the bathroom and her bed.  Last night she got up to use the bathroom, then  couldn't find her way back to bed.  It was dark and she figures she took a wrong turn somewhere.  My mother told me this glorious tale of directionless confusion this afternoon while we listened to my son scream through his nap.  As she tells it, it took her quite some time to eventually find her side of the bed.  "I'll just back up until I  make it back to the bathroom and then start over," she thought to herself, but I don't think she ever made it back there.  She ended up by a wall at the other end of the bedroom.  When she finally made it to her side of the bed, she looked over and noticed that my dad wasn't in the bed.  She did a tour of the house and finally found him in a chair in the guest room.  A spooky tale, to be sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-5545826360292068272?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/5545826360292068272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=5545826360292068272' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5545826360292068272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/5545826360292068272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-mother-got-lost.html' title='My Mother Got Lost...'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-6953036695848986899</id><published>2008-04-30T18:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T19:12:12.313-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Of Course</title><content type='html'>Simon has been screaming for the last 40 minutes.  What horror is he facing?  Just nap time.  That's all.  He slept pretty well for two days, but he's back to crappy naps again.  And he has to scream for at least 25 minutes before he can sleep.  He might just scream through this entire nap.  He had a 25-minute nap earlier today, which was preceded by 26-minutes of full-out screaming.  Then he had a 41-minute nap.  I don't know how long he cried before he fell asleep that time, but it was pretty long.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life still sucks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait--I don't hear screaming.  Maybe he just fell asleep.  I left the room after 30 minutes to see if he had an easier time calming down without my presence.  I think he does better when I'm not there.  But now I don't know if he's asleep or not.  Nope.  He's making noises.  At least he's not screaming.  But he's still not sleeping.  How can he not be exhausted?  Okay, he's fussing again.  He's been in his crib for 50 minutes now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HE HAS FALLEN ASLEEP... after 56 minutes.  Most of those 56 minutes were spent screaming. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW LONG DID HE SLEEP?  28 minutes.  Sob...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-6953036695848986899?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/6953036695848986899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=6953036695848986899' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6953036695848986899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6953036695848986899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/04/of-course.html' title='Of Course'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-6130071276409158486</id><published>2008-04-30T16:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T16:46:59.850-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Snaz</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SBkE4pRQWkI/AAAAAAAAACM/Z-m7bU9WfYw/s1600-h/icanhasbigb128540726645625000.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SBkE4pRQWkI/AAAAAAAAACM/Z-m7bU9WfYw/s320/icanhasbigb128540726645625000.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195189016345991746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-6130071276409158486?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/6130071276409158486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=6130071276409158486' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6130071276409158486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/6130071276409158486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/04/its-snaz.html' title='It&apos;s Snaz'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SBkE4pRQWkI/AAAAAAAAACM/Z-m7bU9WfYw/s72-c/icanhasbigb128540726645625000.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-7694691319853780192</id><published>2008-04-28T22:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T22:36:17.332-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Someone Is Sleeping</title><content type='html'>And his name is Simon!  I don't know if this can last, but Simon slept so well last night and took two great naps today.  How is this possible?  He's asleep right now in his crib with the lovey Karen made him.  He really likes the lovey.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-7694691319853780192?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/7694691319853780192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=7694691319853780192' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7694691319853780192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7694691319853780192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/04/someone-is-sleeping.html' title='Someone Is Sleeping'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-8791272042775009437</id><published>2008-04-27T23:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T12:13:55.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Continues</title><content type='html'>Simon's sleep has totally consumed my life.  I dedicate most of my time to trying to get him to sleep.  Last night was bad.  Today was bad.  Tonight we're starting the Pick Up/Put Down method of sleep training.  It is going to be a long and loud night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LATER:&lt;br /&gt;Strangely enough, it wasn't loud or long.  He screamed for about 35 minutes, then went to sleep.  He shocked us all by sleeping for over six hours straight.  He'd never slept so long before.  When he  woke up, I fed him, then he went right back to sleep without crying.  He woke up for the day just over three hours later.  Very odd.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-8791272042775009437?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/8791272042775009437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=8791272042775009437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/8791272042775009437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/8791272042775009437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/04/life-continues.html' title='Life Continues'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-7569572780396623761</id><published>2008-04-26T22:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-26T23:35:50.117-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting</title><content type='html'>So I'm waiting for Simon to wake up screaming.  'Cause that's what he does.  When we put him down for the night, he usually wakes up about 45 minutes later.  We have to settle him down again, and sometimes we have to do this a couple times over the next hour before the sleep sticks.  He's now been asleep for 30 minutes.  I'm so on edge.  I can barely stand this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've been sleep training Simon for two weeks now.  Not that you'd know.  He still wakes up about 4 - 5 times a night.  We still have to rock him for a long time before he gives in to sleep.  He still won't nap longer than 35 minutes (except for his morning nap when he'll nap for about an hour).  But this is actually a little better than it used to be.  Simon used to spend all night attached to my breast.  This is not an exaggeration.  He would sometimes let me take my nipple out of his mouth for maybe as long as an hour during the night, but the rest of the time, his mouth was firmly clamped on to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wonderful--he woke up at 10:40, and it's now 11:28 and he's still awake.  He's still screaming at the top of his lungs.  I was rocking him like I usually do, and his whimpering escalated to crying and then to all-out screaming.  I can't comfort him.  I've finally put him down in is crib because I can't take it anymore.  It's not like holding him was helping anyway.  I keep trying, though.  Every few minutes I go and pick him up, but he screams away.  My life has become a nightmare.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-7569572780396623761?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/7569572780396623761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=7569572780396623761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7569572780396623761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7569572780396623761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/04/waiting.html' title='Waiting'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4866311672654889064.post-7611586925837927361</id><published>2008-04-24T15:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T20:12:43.905-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Randomness</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SBENqZRQWiI/AAAAAAAAABw/9P1QVzdumjM/s1600-h/MassMurdererCa128437676374637500.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SBENqZRQWiI/AAAAAAAAABw/9P1QVzdumjM/s320/MassMurdererCa128437676374637500.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192946867323820578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's pretty much how I feel today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4866311672654889064-7611586925837927361?l=nogritestonta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/feeds/7611586925837927361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4866311672654889064&amp;postID=7611586925837927361' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7611586925837927361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4866311672654889064/posts/default/7611586925837927361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nogritestonta.blogspot.com/2008/04/randomness.html' title='Randomness'/><author><name>julia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09680944759459272662</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vc_Z_LzQin8/SBENqZRQWiI/AAAAAAAAABw/9P1QVzdumjM/s72-c/MassMurdererCa128437676374637500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
