Happy Anniversary, Darling Wife; Bigass Muhfuh'n Baby Girl; and Yes, the Election Did Indeed Suck
Looking for a moment at something other than the grim landscape of Karl Rove’s America, today is the fifth anniversary of the day Mama Dog and I were wed at San Francisco City Hall, once known as the place where Marilyn Monroe married some football player, now known as the place where all those boys and girls married all those other boys and girls. On election night, I was skimming back and forth between cable news channels with the sound off, and was surprised to see the chap who married us on CNN…file footage of him officiating at the union of two women, used to illustrate, I suppose, why so many religious wingnuts turned out to vote. Oh, now, I’m trying not to talk about that stuff. It’s difficult, isn’t it? Anyway, we haven’t discussed specifics, but I’m pretty sure the plan is to spend tonight at home too tired to do anything but play with the baby’s toes and wonder where all the time went. Yeah, like I’d tell you what we do on our anniversary.
Baby Dog has been sleeping in her own room the last couple of nights. She’s pretty much outgrown the Co-Sleeper, so it seemed time to put her in the bigger crib, where she has room to stretch out her arms and kick her legs about. It’s very strange not to have our extra little roommate after four months sleeping in the same room. No more carefree late night games of “Is she still breathing?” – at least not without getting up and walking through the bathroom and trying to somehow avoid the creaky floorboards in her bedroom (which would be all of them). She’s continuing on at the growth rate we calculated some time back would eventually cause her to engulf the planet. Ninety-seventh percentile in both height and weight for her age, which is the very tippity-top of normal. Or as I like to say, with every measure of parental pride, “Any bigger and she’d be a freak!”
I guess I got a little sidetracked with the week’s catastrophe. I forgot to even report on the closure of my “Sexiest 19th Century Governor General of Canada” poll. It was a three-way tie, with 29% each, between the Earls of Dufferin and Aberdeen and Lord Stanley of Preston. I have an uneasy suspicion that old Lord Stan got some votes because there’s some hockeyball thing named after him, but as we’ve seen, that’s politics. Whatever the reasons, I’m sure the descendants of all three gentlemen are thrilled and honoured to know that you harbour lust in your hearts for their ancestors.
I guess I’ll have to figure out a new poll to put up tonight. The “how much did the election suck?” poll has proved rather popular. At the moment, 56% of you say “More than anything in history has ever before sucked,” which even I think is a little harsh. I mean, yeah, it sucks, but world wars and genocides have probably been a tad worse. On the other hand (thinking out loud here), I don’t suppose we want to give the Bad Guys the idea that they need to raise the bar. So, okay, it’s worse than anything in history. No need to make it any worse to set a record.
Are you still feeling bad? I’m not. Really. I’m feeling motivated. There’s encouragement here and here and here.
Home now. Celebrations await.
Baby Dog has been sleeping in her own room the last couple of nights. She’s pretty much outgrown the Co-Sleeper, so it seemed time to put her in the bigger crib, where she has room to stretch out her arms and kick her legs about. It’s very strange not to have our extra little roommate after four months sleeping in the same room. No more carefree late night games of “Is she still breathing?” – at least not without getting up and walking through the bathroom and trying to somehow avoid the creaky floorboards in her bedroom (which would be all of them). She’s continuing on at the growth rate we calculated some time back would eventually cause her to engulf the planet. Ninety-seventh percentile in both height and weight for her age, which is the very tippity-top of normal. Or as I like to say, with every measure of parental pride, “Any bigger and she’d be a freak!”
I guess I got a little sidetracked with the week’s catastrophe. I forgot to even report on the closure of my “Sexiest 19th Century Governor General of Canada” poll. It was a three-way tie, with 29% each, between the Earls of Dufferin and Aberdeen and Lord Stanley of Preston. I have an uneasy suspicion that old Lord Stan got some votes because there’s some hockeyball thing named after him, but as we’ve seen, that’s politics. Whatever the reasons, I’m sure the descendants of all three gentlemen are thrilled and honoured to know that you harbour lust in your hearts for their ancestors.
I guess I’ll have to figure out a new poll to put up tonight. The “how much did the election suck?” poll has proved rather popular. At the moment, 56% of you say “More than anything in history has ever before sucked,” which even I think is a little harsh. I mean, yeah, it sucks, but world wars and genocides have probably been a tad worse. On the other hand (thinking out loud here), I don’t suppose we want to give the Bad Guys the idea that they need to raise the bar. So, okay, it’s worse than anything in history. No need to make it any worse to set a record.
Are you still feeling bad? I’m not. Really. I’m feeling motivated. There’s encouragement here and here and here.
Home now. Celebrations await.
posted by PapaDogDuvalier | 6:07 PM
1 Comments:
Happy Anniversary to you, too, Papa Dog! Nice post. I love love love reading about Baby Dog, and hope that you'll be inspired to write more about her in future.
xox
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