You want to sit where?

Okay, my fine friends!
We have the nearly finalized guest list. Now I just have to figure out where everyone is going to sit.
There's the healthy tradition of minding politics, religion, and the subject of procreation. And with our very diverse group of family and friends we have the full spectrum covered. From the very liberal to the very conservative, from Sir Abstains-a-lot to Drinky Drinkerson. I have to find a place for everyone to sit and eat where I can be assured that cutlery will remain cutlery and not evolve into implements of deadly force.

There has also been the suggestion of letting everyone sit where they want to, but then how to avoid the table of people who sat over there because they were unsure of where to sit and now are akwardly silent because no one wants to be the first to start a conversation? I assure you that akward silence is not what I have in mind to accompany this fine meal of hot dogs and tater tots* we will be enjoying.

So if you notice that I have taken to muttering under my breath, staring off in the distance and twitching, don't mind me. I'm just trying to figure out how to herd cats.

*There was supposed to be a food tasting today but the caterer cancelled because she was sick.

Party like it's 2003

As many of you know, Aaron and I eloped in 2003--thus avoiding all of the stress/politics/hassle/financial ruin of your typical white dress/ big hair churchy nuptuals.

Or so I thought.
I was trying to think of a way to get Aaron to the East Coast so that all of my friends who hadn't met him could do so, and preferably all at once, as those of you who know me know that my schedule is usually packed from the time I hit the ground in DC until the time we take off again. Well, this brain child morphed into the party that is shrinking me. It's really become a belated wedding reception (and I do believe we hold the world title for longest time elapsed between wedding and reception), which means that I had to send invites to all kinds of people from all over the country--you know the ones I'm talking about: so and so who was a dear pal of your grandmother's back in the sixties who attended your baptism, but no, you haven't seen her since. Which is fine. I like a good party and I figure the more the merrier, right? But is it too much to ask that you RSVP?

I'm fairly certain that Miss Manners would not consider failing to respond the same as a phone call saying "sorry, we can't come". I understand that many people are working/can't afford to travel/don't want to travel with kids/don't want to come. That's cool. I have turned down invitations to weddings/graduations/christenings and I know that there are many and varied reasons for doing so. My feelings will not be hurt.
But I shouldn't have to call you and email you and call you and email you to have you tell me what I already know: you're not coming.

All of that is to say: come September 1 if I haven't heard from you I shall file a missing persons report on your behalf. And I will be eating your slice of pie.

Looking for someone to love

Hey-dee-hey!

Anyone in the Chicagoland area looking for a dog/cat/guinea pig?

http://www.furryfriendsfoundation.com/

These folks are a no kill shelter what has to close and need to adopt out all of their animals.

Check them out.

Not too old for it

I miss my Mommy.

There. I've said it. Now fling your crazy looks over my head like I can't see you.

She's not gone or on vacation or anything dramatic like that. No.
She has switched offices and they have yet to install her phone. It's not that I need to call her, but the very fact that I can't call her that is making me a bit twitchy. I am used to knowing that if I pick up and call her in the midde of the day she will answer.

Because sometimes you need another adult voice. Sometimes you need to call someone to complain about your day, or ask them exactly how did that recipe go, again?

In summation:
Kind sirs who employ my mother,
Please install a phone in her office posthaste.
I promise not to call more than twice a week.
Three times, tops.

Yours in Gratitude,
Kara

it was my birthday.

And in no particular order... we ended the day with dinner. (L-R: me in fabulous birthday attire, Erica, Aaron, Gary, Nina; taken by photoman extraordinare Jim). I should say dinner and LOTS of vodka. Sunday was a whispering kind of day around the house.
The middle of the day had Gary, Adrian and Jim outside playing ball.
And Adrian inspecting the fancy interior of Gary's new BMW Z3.

And here is but a small quantity of the aforementioned vodka.

It was a good birthday. The company was fabulous, the food was tasty, and I laughed so hard it hurt. And, as per my request, I didn't have to plan a meal, cook, or clean up all day long. And I got an ice cream maker--woo hoo! Now I just have to clear all the store bought ice cream out of the freezer to make room for the good stuff.

egads

YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.

Adrian, champion napper exraordinaire, has just forgone his nap.

I'm off to a terrible afternoon with a cranky almost two year old.

sweet.

you ready to party?

This weekend we will have FOUR houseguests. Aaron's parents, sister and best friend will all be here.
And I will be having a birthday. (you should have one too!)
I expect both pomp and ceremony.
I don't think a small parade is out of the question.

But no clowns. Or aligators.

Have a good weekend and we'll see you next week.

Vocabulary explosion

Adrian has been repeating words and making little sentances for the past week.
The cutest thing he has begun saying: love you. Except it sounds like "wuv yew". Yesterday he went around to all his stuffed animals, picked them up, hugged them and said love you.
It was so cute I almost threw up.

He also says things like "love Dada". And he calls Lunchbox "pretty girl" (which sounds like "pree gur") because Aaron calls her pretty girl. He enjoys "kimeing" (climbing), cookies, rays (raisins), and coloring. He says "hi neighbor" to our neighbors, and will tell you that birds are up up up (like the moon, Dada, Papa and Nana--I think anything over his head qualifies as up up up)

Papa D is now "Papi", he has a Gramma blanket and a bear blanket, he likes to watch the Muh Show (Muppet Show), and he can name all of the regular Sesame Street characters, but he likes Big Bird the best.

Pastafarianism

In Kansas, there was a boy Named Bobby Henderson, and he was touched by the noodly appendage of the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

Today, the noodly appendage has landed upon the baldy head of one of the Flecker-DeCarlo household.

This is to say: if you can find humor in religion, boy do we have a website for you!
http://www.venganza.org/

Go and experience the FSM for yourself.

Note: if you do not have a sense of humor in relation to God or the creation of the Universe, this website is not for you.
Also, do not peruse website whilst drinking a hot beverage.

Pop culture, full circle.

Aaron and I share a few interests, and one of those interets is a long list of television shows that we watch together. Not that we're couch potatoes, but prior to baby the couch had special well-worn divots for our respective rear ends. Post baby, things that were funny seem horribly inapropriate for someone so young and unworldly. That of course doesn't stop us from making references and jokes about the things we have seen. But, lo, children are absorbing all the time. Yea, they are the sponges of the human race.

We are constantly making jokes about "peanut butter fingers"; from the episode of Friends where Monica is planning her wedding and needs help picking out hors d'ouvres...you know? (She hands the list to Joey, he gives it back with two additions, she says "what are peanut butter fingers?" he mimes sticking his fingers in a jar of peanut butter and then eating said foodstuff)

Yesterday, Adrian asked for peanut butter. And I said "you want peanut butter?" It's an odd request for him.
And he said "yes" held up his first finger and said "finger".

Our not-quite-two-year-old just asked for peanut butter fingers.

Kazoo

Nana came to visit us and we went to Brookfield Zoo. As evident by Adrian's face, the zoo is serious business. Here we are in the very neat primate exhibit, where it rains indoors. Adrian has not been able to stop talking about it, except with his limited vocabulary it goes like this: monkey Nana kazoo monkey (points to ceiling) rain.
(Kazoo means the zoo)

Here is evidence that babies are babies, regardless of species. I have to say that the primate exhibit here makes me feel sad for the monkeys (and such) who live in zoos where they don't have access to interesting environments.

This was supposed to be the first picture in this series, but Blogger has it's own ideas about picture order. This was on the drive to Brookfield. Adrian was pretty impressed with his ability to wear sunglasses and pick his nose at the same time.
It's good to have goals, I guess.
What would a trip to the zoo be wthout visiting the elephants? I love elephants.
THIS IS NOT AN INVITATION TO BUY ME ELEPHANT TCHOTCHKES.
I'm not a tchotchke kind of girl.
But if you happen to know of a place where I could go and hang out with some elephants, that would be information I'd be interested in.