Meaningless Numbers and Overcoming a Change in Routine
I passed the $100 billion mark in Blogshares today. In Blogshares terms, that only makes me a rich guy rather than a stock market titan. Titan level begins somewhere in the trillions, I think. I have some catching up to do.
Sometime tomorrow – Remembrance Day – I’ll likely get my ten thousandth hit on the old faversham. It’ll probably be some anonymous European image Googler looking for pictures of young Mark Lester or the Hiroshima bomb. Thanks to the two links I just put in this paragraph, this will continue for some time to be the place bored Eurotrash goes to gaze at pictures of those two particular little boys.
Halmonie’s here. Baby Dog is overjoyed, but it made bedtime a little more of a chore than it has been in a while. While I tried to settle her in the rocker, she cried out for Halmonie. Obligingly, I passed her on to Halmonie and went into the kitchen to put away dishes. Minutes later, she was crying out for me. We switched again, and she started crying again for Halmonie. Clearly, she was having difficulty knowing how to incorporate Halmonie’s presence into her established bedtime routine. I finally figured out that the solution was just to pretend there had been no change. I went on singing to her as I always do and let her cry until she got tired of crying. After a while, she was settled comfortably on my lap, flipping through The Very Busy Spider in the dark. When I kissed her goodnight and zipped her into her sleep sack, Baby Dog rolled over and started making out with Ziggedy Zug, all cares forgotten in her pre-Morphean plush toy bacchanal. The songs had gone on and all was just fine in her world.
Sometime tomorrow – Remembrance Day – I’ll likely get my ten thousandth hit on the old faversham. It’ll probably be some anonymous European image Googler looking for pictures of young Mark Lester or the Hiroshima bomb. Thanks to the two links I just put in this paragraph, this will continue for some time to be the place bored Eurotrash goes to gaze at pictures of those two particular little boys.
Halmonie’s here. Baby Dog is overjoyed, but it made bedtime a little more of a chore than it has been in a while. While I tried to settle her in the rocker, she cried out for Halmonie. Obligingly, I passed her on to Halmonie and went into the kitchen to put away dishes. Minutes later, she was crying out for me. We switched again, and she started crying again for Halmonie. Clearly, she was having difficulty knowing how to incorporate Halmonie’s presence into her established bedtime routine. I finally figured out that the solution was just to pretend there had been no change. I went on singing to her as I always do and let her cry until she got tired of crying. After a while, she was settled comfortably on my lap, flipping through The Very Busy Spider in the dark. When I kissed her goodnight and zipped her into her sleep sack, Baby Dog rolled over and started making out with Ziggedy Zug, all cares forgotten in her pre-Morphean plush toy bacchanal. The songs had gone on and all was just fine in her world.
posted by PapaDogDuvalier | 9:20 PM
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