Where are we?

We're back, sort of. Last week the family headed to lovely Cannon Beach with Judybat's mom, her sister, the brother-in-law and their three kids. Then, as a special birthday present for me this weekend, they all went home.

That was a joke. Judybat's family is my family, only they don't stress me out anywhere near as much as the people I'm actually connected to by blood. But the week's festitivies, which included lots of sand castle construction, too much fried food, a box of fudge consumed entirely by one pregnant person and not enough sleep, have left us both feeling a little less than communicative. So pardon the radio silence while we regroup.

Meanwhile, some topics to discuss, if you're so inclined:
* How shameful was the media's early coverage of this crazy John Mark Karr guy?
* Are the Red Sox done? If so, how shall we celebrate?
* Is anyone else impressed that I went on a 16-mile bike ride with the family Saturday at seven months pregnant?
* Is a pregnant lady justified in demanding temporary installation of cable TV when she hits her eighth month?
* Are boxer-briefs "yucky," as TheBoy declared when he received two pairs as a gift this weekend, or is he just being persnickety?
* Will our discovery of the first season of "Weeds" on DVD and the promise of more to come make up for the fact that "Deadwood" died an early death? (A related question: Is the fact that I could not stand Mary-Louise Parker on "The West Wing" but find her to be quite the hottie on 'Weeds" a sign that I've grown, that my hormones are running amuck or that this is just a better role for her talents?)
* How lame is it that, to celebrate my birthday, we got a babysitter, went out to dinner and then found ourselves struggling to fill the 90 minutes left between when TheBoy would go to sleep and when we could justify going home and going to sleep?

For the record: We had a banana split. Then we went to Safeway to buy eggs. Party on!

Not to be all political or anything ...

But isn't it a little late for this?

So you're saying Grandpa Joe just now figured this out? I've stopped admitting that we went to the same high school.

TheBoy figures it all out

So we're driving to the pool tonight, myself and my mother-in-law and our nephew and TheBoy, when the nephew wonders why the kid calls one of us Mommy and one of us Ima. I explain that I'm Mommy, and Judybat is Ima, but that the funny thing is that Ima actually means mother. So really, we're both Mommy.

Nephew: "But who's the daddy?"

Me: "There is no daddy."

TheBoy: "Mommy, mommy! Let me tell you something: Some people have a mommy and a daddy."

Me: "Yes, they do. What do you have?"

TheBoy: "I have two mommies."

I feel a children's book coming on.

Someone's been slacking ...

How lame that it's been almost a week since our last post! I'd like to make up for it now with some meaty prose, but fact is, I'm beat. My mom and nephew arrived in town late Saturday night, and we got up early this morning to ride in the Providence Bridge Pedal. After the ride we feasted on the waterfront at The Bite of Oregon and wound up the day reveling with our neighbors at our second annual (kick-ass) block party.

So, in lieu of a substantial post, here's a quick update on my mileage test after one week:

I've driven the car a total of 43 miles, which included one afore-mentioned round trip to Bed, Bath & Beyond and one round trip to the airport to pick up the afore-mentioned mentioned mother and nephew.

I've ridden my bike a total of 81 miles, which included trips to and and from work, The Boy's school, the community pool, the farmers market and 20 miles for the Bridge Pedal.

(To answer your question Phil, I'm just counting the total miles, though miles per passenger would be interesting, since I rode with The Boy on the back of my bike for more than half of those miles, and had my mom and nephew in the car for about a third of the driving miles. Maybe I should count double every mile I bike with a passenger, and double every mile I drive alone, in which case my biking miles would be about 120 and driving would be 71. Either way - if my math is right - it looks like I'm biking almost twice as much as I'm driving, which isn't bad. It's late though, so I can't be too sure of my math. Or my spelling. or grammer)

In any case, for your viewing pleasure, here is a picture I took during the Bridge Pedal:



And here is a picture The Boy took during the Bridge Pedal:

Two wheels are better than four

I talk (rant) a lot about this country's unhealthy obsession with gas guzzling motor vehicles and our insatiable need for unrenewable energy resources, but am I really doing all I can to reduce my energy footprint? I'm lucky enough to live in a city with a short commute and great public transportation. I have no great excuse for getting in the car instead of on my bike, yet I fear I use one or another more often than I should: it's too hot; it's too far; I have to carry too much stuff; I don't have enough time.

So starting today, in an effort to keep myself honest, I'm going to keep track of my mileage on the bike and in the car.

The tally so far:
12 miles on the bike (from home to work to the Boy's school to home)
16 miles in the car (round trip from home to big box land)

Not a great start, but I couldn't avoid the trip to Bed, Bath & Beyond. The women in my family have an insatiable need for pillows, and with my mother and sister both coming town next week and only a dozen or so pillows in the house, we were heading toward a crisis. Think gas shortages of the Carter Era. Think Mad Max in search of fuel in the Austrailian outback.

The thing is, I have to admit it felt good to be in the car this evening. Normally I loath driving, but it's been a while since I've been in the car by myself on the highway, and there's nothing like cruising along with Bohemian Rhapsody playing on the radio and no one to hear you get the words wrong and sing off key. ("Scata mooch scata mooch, will you do the fandango" - can those actually be the lyrics?)

Belly alert

To those of you who might be eating while reading this, I apologize. This is my stomach. It is not attractive, I know. You may notice that it's also, let's be honest here, quite large.
Huge, in fact. And getting bigger, which is a little scary to contemplate as I toss and turn each night desperate to find a comfortable position.
To those of you who might be eating while reading this, I apologize. This is my stomach. It is not attractive, I know. You may notice that it's also, let's be honest here, quite large. Huge, in fact. And getting bigger, which is a little scary to contemplate as I toss and turn each night desperate to find a comfortable position.

But the oddest thing is what's going on inside. Last week, I began noticing this odd rolling feeling in my belly anytime I sat still for an extended period. Perhaps, I thought, I'm back to having some gastrointestinal distress anytime I eat. Then the rolling turned into more of a poking. A jabbing. Like, say, a tiny little hand, foot, elbow or knee desperately trying to get my attention.

Yes, Beta is announcing his/her presence with authority.