bookerdog.com

After a couple of days dealing with the aftermath of converting our Blogger-based setup here to the Google/Blogger-based setup, I think we’re back in business.

So here’s our budding photographer, reviewing his work.

Old digital camera = hundreds in savings vs. using a disposable film camera = hooray!

Also, my birthday is November 20. Mother’s Day is May 13.

That is all.

Photo blog! I called it!

Since it seems that I’m unable to post more than a few sentences here on ye olde blogge, I’ve made the executive decision to subject you to some of my favorite photos. (Actually, you would be subjecting yourself by continuing to come here, but that’s something for you to discuss with your therapist. See? Bookerdog gives you topics to discuss with your therapist. So helpful! You’re welcome!)

Let’s do this.

This first shot features our heroes, one of whom recently knocked one of his front teeth out, enjoying the fruits of their Santa-worship. (Mom, that’s Santa worship. Santa. Not Satan. Big difference.) Oh, yes, (battery-powered) John Deere Gator.

Sweet.

This is Tim and I, loving you from afar. Well, it’s actually us on New Year’s Eve, loving the French restaurant we had just demolished.

Welcome to 32, my friend.

Tim has been sick all week. I guess the Cardinals post-season finally took its toll. This cold/grippe/respiratory distress has been accompanied by an unusually foul mood. So foul that on Monday morning I might have said, ‘Isn’t it time for you to go to work already?’ (The burden of dealing with grumpiness rarely falls on my shoulders in this household.)

I’ve been trying to help, because I know that he must be feeling awful. However, I found especially poignant evidence of his illness just now, when I discovered a slice of American cheese, still in its cellophane wrapper, placed on top of the refrigerator somehow while Tim was making grilled cheese and chicken noodle soup for supper Tuesday night.

Poor guy.

Happy 5 years and 4 hours and 21 minutes.

Best Auggie in the whole wide world.

Things they don’t teach you in any parenting book:
You haven’t really lived until you’re sitting in the bathroom, trying to concentrate (ahem) and instead are being force-fed a cookie by the nearly two-year-old.

Welcome back, meager audience! I didn’t die! Yet!

So, um, Tim here, and I know it’s been quite while since we’ve written anything here at all. We’ve been a little busy, but for now, this post will act as a test for me, and an update for you. I’ve been rearranging things on our photo section for a while, tweaking and coding here and there.

Well, I’m ready to release it live, and here it is. There’s still plenty of work to be done, but you’ll be able to see the big set of categories and keywords that are now gracing each photo. This makes it a lot easier for us to tag on the backside for descriptions, and the dates are all pulled from the digital photos themselves.

I also wrote a pretty cool tool that allows us to crop and do quick edits of the photos right on the site. What all of this means is that the photos will be updated much more often, although we still have a huge backlog to work through. That’s why I wanted to go live even though it’s not all done.

So it would seem that I’m only able to update this once a month. That’s OK with you, right? Good.

I turned 31 the other day, so that was fun. Tim and I went out to dinner, split a bottle of yummy Primus wine and then went to watch Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire at the IMAX. Being the old coots that we are, we didn’t get there two hours early to secure our seats. We only got there 40 minutes early, which got us seats in the second row. I left many hours later feeling like my head had been sledgehammered. Beth=too old for wine + entire-field-of-vision movie

Elliott is just babbling up a storm. If you say something to him, he can repeat it right back to you in a nearly intelligible fashion. But then he never says it again on his own. Weird. He’s still cute as a button, though. He’s almost a year and a half, but he still has a total baby face. Sure, I hear you, if we’d only post a few photos, you could see for yourself! Patience, grasshopper, patience.

What else? Auggie and Elliott thoroughly enjoyed our trip to the circus. We went last minute, but it was completely fun and overwhelming and cheesy and expensive. The ringmaster was all but unintelligible. I mean, inflection is good, but when it takes people 26 repetitions to make out that you are saying “Crazy WILson,” that is not good. There were times when I turned to Tim and said, ‘Is he speaking english?’

Tim and I got to hang out with Jason Pettus last night, so I’m still feeling like a celebrity today. A somewhat hungover celebrity. It also seems that a minor tornado passed within a couple of miles of the bar where we imbibed, so that’s something. We were originally supposed to attend a poetry open mic at the bar, but they didn’t have it last night. The thought of going to poetry open mic with Jason 11 years after Jason and I used to go to The Chez every week for their open mic was almost too much. Jason always outperformed every one at The Chez by half. Not that there was ever any “winner” declared or anything.

For those of you playing at home, Tim and I have now completed Baby Step Three. This means we get to start putting 15% of our income into retirement, saving for the boys’ college and paying off our mortgage as quickly as possible. Wow. Over the past year alone, we have had almost a $42,000 change in financial position. Not bad.

My son and I have the best conversations in the car. If gas weren’t so bloody expensive and it weren’t so bloody environmentally irresponsible, I’d just drive around all day talking with Auggie.

Auggie: Mommy!
Auggie: Mommy!
Mommy: Yes?
Auggie: Mommy! I found something!
Mommy: What did you find?
A: You see it?
M: Honey, I can’t look right now.
A: Why not?
M: Because I’m driving.
A: Look! It’s really neat!
M: Sweetpea, I have to pay attention to the road right now. Why don’t you tell me what you found?
A: I think it’s an egg.
M: (glancing in the rearview mirror and seeing a small, green candy-looking item in his hand) An egg? Are you sure that it’s not a Skittle or something —
A: It’s an egg, Mommy! Maybe a ‘squito, no, I think it’s a… a… a baby crab egg!
M: Wow! How did a baby crab egg get in the cup holder of your carseat?
A: I think the mommy crab just crawled into our car and thought, ‘Oh, here is a good place to leave my baby crab egg,’ and she left it right here!
M: (laughing) She must have known what a good person you were to trust her with her baby crab egg.
A: (solemnly) Yeah.
M: So do we have to do anything special to the baby crab egg when we get home?
A: Yes! We have to take it up to my room and… My little dogs will take care of it!
M: How long do you think it will be before it hatches?
A: Mommy?
M: Yes, Auggie?
A: Mommy, what’s this black line on the egg?
M: Honey, I can’t look right now. I’m driving.
A: Here, look. (Hands me the egg)
M: (glancing at the “egg” and seeing that the candy shell of the M&M has cracked a bit to reveal the chocolatey goodness within) I don’t know, honey, what do you think it is?
A: (taking it back) Oh, Mommy! I know what it is, it’s an M&M! (eats it)
M: (a bit crestfallen) Oh. Well. It was fun to pretend that it was a baby crab egg, though, wasn’t it?
A: I like this song, Mommy.
M: …