15 weeks

My bump. My bump. My lovely baby bump.

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Port-a-potty in Manhattan. I'm in love.

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Women are only good for 3 things...

Brilliance. Pure brilliance. Hilarious.

It's true, he really did

Photo courtesy of Jill Greenberg

Here is an interesting article giving the timeline of the cunt-calling and the video where McCain was recently asked about the '92 incident.

I wouldn't care if his vice presidential running mate were a woman with 14 breasts, 3 vaginas, and 17 children at her hip - her womanhood would not in any way encourage me to soften my stance on McCain's opinions and policies.

Can't... Stop... Laughing...

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This is Picasso. Picasso is an eggplant with crooked boobs. He is from upstate New York, but now he lives in my kitchen... Until we eat him.

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We can see Russia from here. Wonder if they like cookies.

I came across this article today while doing my routine browse of the online New York Times version. We get home delivery on weekends, but I still can't break away from going to the online version after I read the tree-based one. Old habits die hard.

This op-ed piece so clearly demonstrates my views on the S. Palin fervor that there's not much need to do more than post the link. Bob Herbert speaks right to me.

Appropriately enough, I found this article right after Hubs and I came back from a walk. A walk on which we bought some homemade oatmeal raisin cookies from 2 little girls who were having a Bake Sale For Obama around the corner from our house. They set up a chalkboard easel with "Cookies for Obama" written on it, they covered 2 milk crates with tea towels and they sat on their stoop with their mom selling cookies so they could send the money to Obama's campaign. If that's not grassroots activism I don't know what is.

As for the cookies, moist and chewy and delicious. Obamalicious, one might say.

Lucky # 7

7 years ago today my husband ran through the streets of TriBeCa, a thin layer of ash and dust collecting on his skin and clothes. He called out to his friends, held the hands of strangers, pulled his dog into a building to escape the cloud of smoke and ash filling the street behind him.

7 years ago everything he knew about life and about New York changed. He was one of many. Many who were lucky and many who were devastated.

We will never forget. We need no bumper sticker or tribute video to remind us.

Deja vu all over again

If you've been here before chances are you've read an entry or two about an ungodly amount of money that was spent on medical care for my canine companion.

Here's one more to add to the pile.

Friday night my adorable husband woke me up from an evening nap by saying very calmly and deliberately, "Baby, I need you to wake up now. Duke has a cut. It's pretty bad. He might need stitches. Please come look."

I was napping as he packed the car for our late night drive to Rhode Island to see my in-laws. I walked out to the living room to see Duke lying on the floor, looking up at me with confusion about why he had been told to "wait" on his side. He had blood on the lower part of one of his back legs. I wiped it with a wet cloth Matthew handed me and realized it was a deep gash and it was oozing blood... between the blood and the raw muscle (ick!) I knew it was animal hospital time. A bandage, 2 pieces of gauze, and a band-aid later we loaded Duke into the car and drove to the animal ER in our neighborhood.

$312 later... Duke had 4 staples in his leg, 3 weeks of antibiotics, 3 days' worth of anti-inflammatory, a cone (which he will never wear), and animal parental peace of mind for Matthew & me.

Lesson in resiliency: while the amazing ER vet was examining him, Duke just laid there. Didn't flinch, didn't yelp, didn't even really seem to notice anything except that a human was touching him and he digs that. She put the staples in his leg without restraints or anesthetic and then he licked her face. He really is Duke the Wonder Dog. Vet kept saying, "He's such a good boy!" Oh yeah, he also let the fabulous vet tech just stick the thermometer right in his butt. He kinda looked back at her and let her do what she needed. The boy is downright heroic.

Wow. That's a baby. It lives in my belly.

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All I can say...

... is that I would like to alternately punch Palin in the face and debate her on a large stage.

I mean, more power to the grand old party to make dumb decisions all across the board. It's typically what they do best. I disagree with Mrs. Palin on more topics than I can fit in a dumpster, so let's just start with this one:

She seriously thinks global warming is real, but that it is not caused by human activity.

WHAT?

She supports more extensive drug legislation, so it's not likely she's smoking the crack, but that's the only explanation I can come up with for such amazingly flawed thinking.