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February 14th, 2009

HAPPY VD! Clap, everybody, clap!



Saturday Book Review: The Essential Breastfeeding Log; Mommy Calls Me Monkeypants; Baby Nose to Baby Toes

February 14th, 2009

Book review on the fly:

I’m thinking, I remember nursing. It’s been a few years, but not so long that it’s slipped from my memory entirely. When exactly would you have time to update your “Essential Breastfeeding Log” (Sarah Bowen Shea & Suzanne Schlosberg, Ballentine, $15, 217 pages)?

Then I remembered more details. They swam into view, from a murky fog left over from those early maternal days. I had to keep a notebook, post-partum (with feedings, diapers, doc appointments, PAIN KILLER LOG following both c-sections, etc.). This is a handy little book, ladies. Thank you.

I know that sounds like a backhanded compliment but it so is not.

And… Shea and Schlosberg are from my neck of the woods! Shea is a Portland, Ore. writer and Schlosberg lives in Bend, Oregon. Hiii! (That’s me waving from North Portland.) (Not North Bend. That’s a different place entirely.)

“Mommy Calls Me Monkeypants” is a sweet little board book written by J.D. Lester, with illustrations by Hiroe Nakata (Random House, $8, unpaged). Well, it’s better than being called a monkey’s uncle, I suppose.

Monkey, peacock, horsey and ladybug babies play and cavort with their mommies. Your littles will love it.

Vicky Ceelen’s photos in “Baby Nose to Baby Toes” (Random House, $7, unpaged) are just arresting. Vivid, good movement, and you’re right — the top of that baby’s head really does look like the top of the fuzzy duckling’s head! Cute. How can you go wrong with puppies and babies, you just cannot.

But these pictures are a step above your typical board book pics of beach pails and smiley babies. Nice work — I’d love to see more of her stuff. Wait, here it is now!

Reviewed today:

QOTD: Mark Twain

February 11th, 2009

“I believe I have no prejudices whatsoever. All I need to know is that a man is a member of the human race. That’s bad enough for me.” — Mark Twain, author and humorist (1835-1910)

i love you internets

February 10th, 2009

you know when you think to yourself, Self, I just have not been sick very much this year. And that RAWKS because when i get sick I get pneumonia, or bronchial pneumonia or just plain bronchitis or bronchitis aggervated by asthma and yay, me!

Yeah. You know what i’m going to say next. Last week I was puking my guts out with flu; this week it’s cold and sinuses and tight lungs and Severe Pain with Fever.


It is sickening to read about other people’s sicknesses. Only good thing about reading about them is that it means: They do not cough or sneeze on you, cuz they’re inside the internet.


Good new? I have no good news. It’s February. We haven’t filed our taxes yet. I have taken a disliking to food. All food. Any food. I wish to photosynthesize. This is not the norm — I love food. Am foodie. Will eat pretty much whatever, whenever:

fish fingers dipped in tartar sauce
corn on the cob
tater tots
filet mignon
Texas burgers on an onion bun with fresh tomato and onion
tomato sandwich with mayo, salt and pepper
deviled eggs
tuna casserole
blueberry buckle
Indian food
roast beast
veggie meatloaf with polenta
anything spicy
chile relleno burrito
Tom Kha soup
phad Thai noodles
anything on a stick — BBQ chicken, meatballs, veggie kebabs

Right now? Nothing sounds good. Nothing has sounded good in months. No, I don’t want to go to the doctor, cuz she’ll say, sure, you’ve lost 20 pounds. Now drop 20 more and we’ll talk.

Anyway. Do you ever lose your appetite? Never lose your appetite? What do you like to eat? Why? Will you make me some soup and bring it over? Naw, forget it. Even soup doesn’t sound good.

QOTD: Renard

February 9th, 2009

“It is not how old you are, but how you are old.” — Jules Renard, writer (1864-1910)

“A lot of things,” A Story. By Wacky Girl

February 8th, 2009

(When we picked up our girl from Grandma’s today — or “Bama Hut,” as my kids call it, a leftover baby nickname for Grandma’s House — she told us, “I wrote a story. It’s 27 pages long!” Yes, it was. In a point size of 72. Good story from a cool 9-year-old. Enjoy. Have a great week. WM)

A lot of things

By Wacky Girl

Wacky Girl is my name. What is your name? Do you know how I got my name? Well how did you get yours, now answerer that? I named myself when I was two years old. Okay? Okay.

Lets move on to a different subject. How about shoes. Do you like shoes/feet? I do! They help me get warm. I think you should like shoes/feet if you don’t already. Feet are good for you because how would you stand up and/or get around? And you should like shoes to because they keep your feet warm and if you didn’t have shoes then your feet might get so cold your feet might fall off and we already talked about how wonderful feet are and everyone has them. (I hope.) So lets move on.

How about we talk about worms. Do you even like worms? Because if you don’t then I’m here to make you LOVE them. So lets get started then.

Ways to make worms man’s best friend

1. Go out in your yard or some place with dirt and start digging. Feel the soft dirt and/or worms in your hands. You are holding part of earth. (If the dirt isn’t soft then you’re on your own.) Doesn’t that feel good? Well if there weren’t such a thing as worms then that dirt would be all chunky. (If it is chunky then that’s just to bad for you.)

2. Okay I am guessing this subject isn’t so good for the young ones so lets talk (well in our case read) about something else. Uhh any ideas? Yes, no? Well this whole writing thing is sort of out of control and I am wasting some good time, so I guess this is…


(Sorry I can’t make the type size any bigger for a more dramatic THE END, but it’s already at 72.)

from Thich Nhat Hanh…

February 6th, 2009

“People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child — our own two eyes. All is a miracle.”

— Thich Nhat Hanh

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