I'm sure this is old news for some of you but Lazlo sent me this site today during Wren's naptime, and in spite of my million-bullets to-do list, I don't think I'll ever leave the computer again.

Link at your own risk.

I think my ears are bleeding from the cuteness.

If my lacksidaisical posting habits have forced Lazlo into contributing, I owe the blog an entry. Things have been busy with the moving, but are calming down now. We're in that dangerous place where we've made all these "temporary" fixes to make the house livable, but it turns out the "solutions" work so well that... hell, who am I kidding? I'll never make curtains. Let's just leave that blanket nailed to the wall, okay? And those boxes full of pictures are just going to stay under the bed. Also, dog house schmog house. Ramona's doing just fiiiiiine on the porch.

Living with un-childed people has been fun (free babysitting!) and awkward ("Yeah sorry, that was us at 2:00 in the morning. The dreaded night-poop. It wakes her up...") and strangely challenging. Things that are obvious to us are not obvious to folks unfamiliar with the climbing/scrounging/shoving-in-mouth habits of a 14 month old. Roach poison on the floor? Not a good idea. Buckets full of bleach water? No. And could everyone always push their chairs under the table? Because if not, Wren will hoist herself up and dance on your food when you walk out of the room. Like a cat, but more so.

We love the house. It's HUGE! Come stay with us. We love our roommates. We'll see if they continue to love us (Wren is currently pulling someone CD collection onto the floor. I should probably stop her). I'm exposed to all sorts of new things:

- Toaster ovens! Why didn't any one tell me how awesome they are?!
- Wine every night with dinner? Woo-hoo!
- Oooooh. You're supposed to marinate tofu. So that's why my (2) attempts have tasted like shit.
- You mean, you actually rinse out your recycled cans, and like, crush them? Dude.

It is indeed very sad that Ramona is an outside dog. She cries at night when everyone comes home and she's not allowed inside. I try to walk her, but it's not the same. Poor lady.

On the bright side, I'm borrowing a sewing machine and that's fun. I'm also watching the first season of Project Runway and have become completely addicted.

I'm working on a super-surprise baby shower present for a friend. (Working is a bit of an overstatement... maybe "thinking about working" or "looking at" would be accurate). A zillion years ago when I volunteered, I wasn't thinking about moving, and I wasn't factoring in that nearly everyone else who had to contribute to this communal project is nearly as lazy and half-assed about crafting as I am. So we've got not too much time until baby arrives, and Surprise! No present.

But having the sewing machine has inspired me to do some other things, and also, strangely, to knit again. So that's fun. I'm working on double pointed needles and we'll see if this attempt is better than the notorious heel-turning disaster of '03. Also I want to make a Fathers Day/birthday something for my dad. And a pillow I promised my mom. And presents for my neices. And I'm working on a watermelon hat for whoever's head it ends up fitting. Oh right, and curtains.

If a watermelon hat sounds like your style, send me your head measurements, and the winner gets a hat! Huzzah for head-size contests!

So if I find the cord for the camera in any as yet unpacked boxes, I'll post pictures of our new house, our baby girl, and any photogenic projects nearing completion.

For the first time in years, I've started biking to work on a regular basis. It started out of necessity -- moving totally cleaned me and Baby out so we didn't have money to fill up the car or ride the bus -- but in the last few days I've come to enjoy it. There is a huge hill (well, huge for me -- 130' rise in 3/4 mile), but I've even come to appreciate that.

But a funny thing happened on the way to work today. My housemate (THE QUAKER) and I were riding in together. We had just come over the hill when a man in a late 60's / early 70's American convertible (read: a land whale) driving next to us started yelling "You're too far over! You're too far over!" at us. We were probably taking up most of the lane we were in, but we were on a four-lane road, so I didn't think it was much of a problem. Anyway, as we rode past the dude -- we'll call him the Milkman for reasons that will become apparent -- while he was stopped at a light, I responded "Hey buddy, your car's eight feet wide!" and rode on.

Needless to say, this is not where the story ends. The Milkman at this point changed his course and quickly caught up with The Quaker and me. As he passed, something soft hit my left quadricep and a lukewarm liquid splashed my arms. I looked down and realized I'd been pegged with a nearly-full pint of moo juice. The guy had pretty good aim to hit me from a car going about 15 mph. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get his license plate number (not that I would do anything with it), but I've felt oddly amused by the whole incident. I guess I should have known not to taunt the guy in the first place, and I know that he could have done a lot worse.

Next time I'm just going to say "nice car."

P.S.: Here is a very long video of a bear in a hammock.