Like Standing in Place, Watching Everyone Run Around Like Lunatics

The year we were 24, Eric and I went to four weddings. And a couple more the year before that, and the year after. Now we're 27, and everyone's breeding. You saw the pictures of Eric's sister's new son. In a month or two, some good friends are having their first baby (a boy). Later in the summer, Eric's oldest brother and his wife are having their third boy. And tonight we found out that his other older brother's wife is pregnant. I have two things to say about this. First: Holy crap. Second: Will someone please make a girl?

Now With More Mystery

I killed my mood indicator. I'd been on the verge of doing it a few times over the past several months and could never quite resolve to it. But I've been changing it infrequently for a long time, and more and more often the word that would really describe my mood wasn't on the list of options. Then, a few days ago, Eric pointed out that I usually changed it from one negative mood to another negative mood. So that settled it. If the mood indicator was making me look like a crabby bitch, it had to die.

From now on, if you're wondering how I'm feeling, assume "content" and picture a tiny yellow smiley face. That's my emotional baseline.

Babies and Other Stuff.... But Mostly Babies

For Easter this year we drove up to my grandma's house. We had ham and it was delicious. Which was a good thing, since we had ham sandwiches for dinner last night and ham with our eggs this morning. And there were good people there to talk to, including my mom and sister, who are with me in the picture below. I like this picture partly because the other one, where we're all looking at the camera, is a little blurry, and also because it's typical of me that even when someone has just told a joke and it was clearly funny, I'm still very focused on what we're all supposed to be doing.


Since my grandma lives half an hour's drive from Eric's sister, who had her first baby about two weeks ago, we decided make a detour on our way home this morning to visit them. Meet Cole:


He's a pretty cute little monkey-looking fella.

Suggestion Box

Dear Minnesota,
The winter wonderland thing is charming in December, but now that it's late March, I think green tree buds would be much more heartwarming.
Love,
Amber

Dinner, Grandma-Style

It's in the oven now. Smells incredible.

Incidentally, I'm afraid this is about all you can expect from me in terms of blog posts for a while. A pretty picture and some Neanderthalic grunting. I've been thinking about blogging lately, but I keep rejecting the idea because I'm pretty sure you'd end up reading either a report titled "What I Did This Week," in the grand 3rd grade style, or some avant-garde rambling about how washing a chicken is eerily like bathing a baby.

I'll be back eventually. We have a couple of trips coming up. Spring is fighting its way into Minnesota. I'll probably have something to say soon.

Ready for Its Close-up

Today I realized that the picture I originally put on this post was blurry, and it was making me twitchy, so I made Eric take another one.


A blue vervain flower for creativity, and an aspen leaf for eloquence. That's according to some obscure Celtic herbal lore I dug up on the internet. Between the tattoo and the bed, I think you can expect my Booker Prize-shortlisted novel to hit the shelves sometime next year.

By the way, if you like this and you're in the market for a tattoo and you live in or around the Twin Cities, go see Shawn Hebrank at Identity Tattoo. Good artist, nice guy.

I'm Going to Be Such a Good Writer Now

This is our new bed. Yes, that is actually the model name, and no, I did not push for this particular bed because of the name. I'm almost that much of a geek, but not quite. In fact, I didn't even notice the name until I looked at the invoice after we'd bought it. And then I was admittedly a big dork pretty happy about it.

The real reason we chose this bed is that it's obscenely comfortable, and we got an excellent deal on it. Thanks for that go jointly to Eric's brother (who sells beds for a living) and my stepdad (who's loose with his money). So we're thoroughly spoiled, but we deserve to be, after all the years we slept on our old mattress, which, in addition to being creaky and saggy and really hard on our backs, rolled and heaved like a waterbed every time one of us moved on it. This is a vast improvement.

And now I'm going back to bed.

Eat Your Heart Out, Donna Reed

So my bloggity friend Loralee is giving away an apron, and I would love to have it. (Yes, I said "apron," and I meant it. When you hate spending money on clothing as much as I do, an apron is a worthwhile investment. But I haven't been willing to make the investment yet, and now that a few minutes of writing is all I have to invest for a chance to own a super sexy apron, the miser in me is breathless with maniacal laughter.) The rules say that a blog post linking to Loralee's Fantastic Apron Giveaway gets me additional entries in the drawing. So here it is.

[Maniacal laughter.]

[Asthma attack.]