Our Fav Restaurant from the Old Days

Somehow I happened upon the website for The Gypsy, which is the favorite restaurant Eric and I had in LA. Check out the Pictures on their site to get a feel for it. Man, set yourself at one of their outside tables for a gluttonous evening of beautiful weather, amazing hummus and shwarma, delicious flavored hookahs and people- and star- watching at the movie premiers at the Fox across the street. When we were there they still had 25 cent chocolate chip cookies and one dollar ice cream sandwiches at Diddy Reese just a couple stores down. We lived maybe 4 or 5 blocks from this oasis, which I was happy to leave but now remember wistfully. I wouldn't want to live in LA again, but there were some pretty gnarly things about it, Dude, that's for sure.

Much Ado

1. I finally got my grade from Use and Users of information. 98 out of a possible 100 points, baby! Now I just have to cross my fingers that scholarship people will call me in June. If I don't hear in June, well that is a bad sign. If I do that means I got it. Ooo, I can hardly handle the tension. 3 classes down, 7 to go!
2. Liam's friend is calling from upstairs, "Liam keeps turning off the piano," to which Liam calls down, "Because my baby needs to take a nap!" Seems reasonable to me.
3. Tomorrow: Stage One of our landscapping begins. They are going to flatten out the backyard, lay new sod, pull out the bushes behind our house, plant some newer, "cuter" bushes, cut down the trees that are growing into our garage and lay new sod on our parkway grasses. We still need to get a back patio and 1.7 million other things, but this is a good start. Why is everything so expensive? Just wondering.
4. Liam got a little stuffed Irish bear from Jon and Melissa when he was born. He told me a day ago the bear was named Brian Hamber. Eric and I were impressed because it sounds like a real name. So I said, oh, that's a cool name for him. How did you know that was his name? And he said, no, it's her, not him. Brian Hamber is a girl.
5. Kathy, I know what you're saying about the bogus celebrity exhaustion, but I would reaaallly like to go to one of the chic rehab hospitals for a week or two and have my own exhaustion recovery. It would be totally legit, I promise.
I had a LOT more SUPER RIVETING stuff to blog about, but I got basically no sleep last night because Brendan + teething + cold = BAAAAADDDD!!!!! so I can't remember what it was. This does not bode well for tonight, when I will be working.

Samurai Liamson

So we recently found out that not only is Liam inexplicably good at climbing trees, but his inner Zen warrior has been unleashed since he got a sword. Eric found some geeky website that said these nerf swords rock, and I must say they are quite excellent. And Liam has shown a fencing prowess that knows no fear. Eric came in tonight to share some choice quotes from the neighborhood swordfight that Liam was finally able to participate in.
"Ouch Liam, we're on the same team!"
"No Liam, Riley can only do that because he's my master." to which Liam replied, "I am your master!"

For real.

In other good news, after the big breakup with Salernos some months back, we had a brief fling with Mugs, but it turned out to only be ok. Then, after doing an entire semester about the demise of newspapers, I only now found out that my hometown does still have a newspaper, which is available online (thanks all who participated in the survey.) Anyway I found out that Moretti's has opened a ristorante here, and it delivers! I am beyond excited. Sad but true.

Tomorrow we have some landscapers coming to quote a price to get the back lawn torn up, leveled, re-sodded and maybe take out bushes and put in a patio. And in a couple weeks we will be getting our last three regular windows. Still no new countertops or upstairs bath or kitchen remodeling or basement finishing or addition, but it's something. I'm patient. Sort of. Not really. Sometimes. Not usually but, ok well, don't let your kids get teeth is my advice to you. It suuuuucks.

Ruminations on Parenthood, Part 1

Ok, so someone says to you, here's the job:

Me: What are the hours?
God: Um, not sure.
Me: Like, how many hours a week?
God: Well, hmm, I can't say. Anywhere between 112 and close to 168.
Me: Wait, I have to work nights and weekends?
God: Yeah. In fact, you have to potentially work more on weekends then on weekdays.
Me: What's the salary?
God: (laughs, coughs, clears throat) No salary. It's actually going to cost you a boatload of money.
Me: Well how many sick days do I get?
God: None.
Me: None? What do I do when I'm sick?
God: Mostly likely take care of everyone else in your house because they will also be sick. And you can get puked on and sneezed on and coughed on, make meals and do laundry and take care of the pets and pay the bills and, you pickin up what I'm puttin down here?
Me: Is there a pension?
God: That depends on how smart and financially savvy and lucky your kids are, how much they like and respect you when they're adults, what kinds of ailments you have, how annoying you get, etc. Truthfully there's a good chance you'll be chin-deep in debt for the rest of your life, with at least two mortgages.
Me: When do I get to retire?
God: Never. Well, technically, when you die. Otherwise you're on call 24/7 for the rest of your life.

So, I ask you, who in their right mind would willingly take this on? And not only that, who would take it more then once?! Especially after you realize there ISN'T a nursery down the hall where you can send the kid when you're sick or exhausted or in need of a ten minute nap. Or after you realize it will literally be YEARS before you have the independence to walk out of your own house barefoot, hop in your car and go wherever you want for as long as you want. But here's the absolutely weird thing. Somehow, by some astounding, enigmatic biological widget God skillfully implanted in a hidden crevice in your brain, this whole unbelievably bizarre phenomena is AMAZING and totally, incomprehensibly AWESOME and even knowing many of the pitfalls and idiosyncrasies, I totally dig this parenthood thing. I can absolutely see how it's not for everyone, but personally I'm in. When Brendan asks, "Is this a booboo?" in the cutest, sweetest baby voice, pointing to a little scrape on his hand, a concerned, innocent look on his adorable fat face that I just want to eat, I could seriously see having 10 kids. On the other hand, it's 10:29pm and Liam's singing Weezer songs upstairs and asking Eric to come up and clip his nails, so I don't think I'll go that far. And have I mentioned how I have had MAYBE 4 full 8 hour nights of sleep in the last year and a half? That's not something I could keep up for the next decade, so...










Brendan face-planted off the neighbor's slide and the mud on his face was too funny-looking to clean off:

Dr. Brendan

Would you really let this man operate on you?

Latte won Kenobi

A few weeks ago, when the weather started getting better, we noticed that Brendan started saying, "Die, die, die, die" very excitedly. I'm not going to lie, it was disconcerting. Eric was the one who finally figured out the translation, "outside." Phew. Brendan, like most children, reallllllllllly loves to be outside. It makes me look with a whole new fondness toward our days in southern California. You literally could go out 365 days a year. Wow.
Today we got out and Liam got to play with a neighbor. Five hours later as he's taking his nap (and I'm trying to take one of my own in my bedroom down the hall) he calls out to me,
"Mom! Mommy! Have you ever heard of Starbucks?!"
"Yes," I answered.
"No, but not the Caribou Starbucks. Starbucks the movie. Have you heard of that?"
"No," I replied.
"It's where they're fighting, but it's not real. It's just pretend."
Then a lightbulb went off and I remembered the 4 year old neighbor.
"Do you mean Star Wars?" I shouted back.
"Yes, that's it," he said.
"Yes, I've heard of that. I'll tell you about it later."
"Ok."

Well, I'm off to write my last paper for Use and Users of Information. Woohoo!