Lazlo and I gave our 30 day notice a few days ago. We're waiting to hear back from the leasing guy about the apartment we'd like to move into. We realized, after doing a walk through of this new apartment, that since we've been married we've lived in a progressively uglier house or apartment each year. This new place, if we get it, definitely fits the pattern:

- A wall of glass brick
- Thick brown carpet throughout the house, thin gray linoleum in the kitchen
- A staircase in the kitchen closet that goes nowhere
- Cinderblock walls
- A secret third bedroom accessible only through the closet of the second bedroom (very Anne Frank)
- A washing machine in the kitchen and a dryer in the bathroom
- A door in the main bedroom that leads directly into an alley on the side of the building
- You have to walk through the garage to get to the front door.
- A tiny triangular tuquoise tiled shower with a fold-down wooden seat
- The windows are all above eye level, giving the whole thing the feel of a basement, even though it's on the ground floor.

Here's why we want it:

- Secret third bedroom! Now we can finally have another baby!
- Washer and Dryer. WASHER AND DRYER.
- We can get our beloved bitch Ramona back.
- And thanks to the exterior door in the bedroom, we can let her out to pee without getting out of bed.
- The complex has three other apartments, and none of them house a family with seven little boys.
- I've always wanted that -80's cafeteria- feel glass brick can give a place.
- With the extra space, I will hopefully stop running into the coffee table all the time.
- We'd be a lot closer to In-N-Out.

Poor little Wren has one of her beautiful eyes glued shut with icky mucus. The pediatrition, a wizened old man with dirty fingernails whom I at first mistook for the cleaning staff, assures me this is normal. I should apply warm towels, and attempt to "milk" it every few hours. I like to think of it as milking venom from the fangs of a rattlesnake.

Wren responds sort of like I did initially to being milked. With shouts of pain, rage and indignation.

I said, "so this should go away in a few days, a week..?"
He said, "more like 10 to 12 months..."

MONTHS. mucus filled months. If it doesn't go away by the time she's seven months old, he has some drops he can give me.

some drops. THANKS.

Maybe he was the cleaning staff. There goes one $10 copay.

In other copay/eye related news- Lazlo and I got new glasses! We've finally joined the dwindling ranks of America's insured. Woo-hoo for insurance. After two years sans glasses, my perscription is a bit stronger. It's taking a little headachey time to get used to seeing leaves on the trees, street signs, and the mountains. Who knew Pasadena had mountains? Lazlo speculates that my depth perception will improve and I'll stop running into things. We can always hope. I'm sure Wren hopes so. We've had some close calls with the door of her bedroom around 3 AM.

My new frames were the first pair I tried on in the store. I think they're pretty hot. Lazlo, bless his fashion conscious little heart, has been on an intensive search (1 frames store, 2 lenscrafters, and 1 vintage glasses shop) to find the perfect frames, and he's finally getting them on Thursday. Please no one tell him he looks like Ray Charles. And also please don't punch him in the face, as his lenses will be made of GLASS, rather than plastic, and will probably shatter and send shards through his eyes into his brain. If anyone thinks it's maybe not the most brilliant idea for someone with a daily bike commute to wear GLASS glasses, feel free to say so. Thanks.

Look, I've been really busy. You try working full time, going to class, taking care of an infant, and maintaining a blog at the same time, okay? As for Baby, I can't explain her lack of posts. Here's a picture of the baby:

Wren is four weeks old today, and already she's more stylish than either of her parents. Except for Baby, of course.

Things she can do:

-- look at things
-- eat (drink) milk
-- move her limbs and trunk (but not her leaves)
-- yell
-- defecate loudly
-- sleep for up to five hours straight
-- love
-- the Charleston

Okay, she can't really love yet. I was just kidding. Her most complex emotion is something I call hanger (hunger + anger), which is her default waking state when she's not eating, eliminating, or staring at things (her current faves: hairlines, shelves, bright lights).

Oh, and she also turns on her side occasionally (!), makes cooing noises sometimes, and follows our voices (but not our commands).

(Photos by Rachel Siebenaler.)

It's time to get my nose back on the blogstone, so to speak. Here's a picture of my baby:

Recent developments:

- The baby is HUGE -- 9 lbs., 1 oz. as of a few days ago. She's in the 99th percentile for weight and 97th for length. A coworker brought her one-month-old baby to work yesterday. Troll Baby (coworker's child) is significantly smaller than Wren. I'm trying not have excessive pride, but it's difficult when your baby is the biggest in L.A. County (putting her high in the runnings for biggest world-wide).

- The umbilical stump is about to detach. That means the baby can get baths soon. Which means that we can finally get that old shell off her. (The baby has been molting.)

- I'm back to work.

- Folks from church have been bringing us meals every other day since the baby was born. It's been amazing -- two days ago we had home-made chicken and dumplings.

- Have I mentioned that Wren is the next phase of human evolution? She's going to lead the armies against Homo sapiens. She can already lift her head up almost 90 degrees, unassisted.

That's all I've got for now. The baby keeps Baby and me busy, but she's been very good so far about only waking us up three or four times a night. My unbabied readers be advised: this is pretty good. Enjoy your sleep while you can.

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I was looking at archives of HOWDY MR. CORPORATE (not Mr. Nippon) last night. It's a good read. Check out Dave's recent-graduate angst.