Proud to be a Disappointment

I long ago installed a little widget to the blog that allows me to see where people are coming from and where they are located. I did it so that I could see whether our family members were still visiting or if they had decided they really don't want to hear from us ever again.

(Slight veer off topic--is it wrong that I know my father-in-law's IP address by heart, but not his phone number? Must ponder that . . . back to the topic at hand.)

I particularly like looking at the results of that widget that show me where people came from. Usually it's a direct hit (you typed the address or had it in your Favorites), but once in a while, someone gets here because they've done a search. Google points you in my direction when you're wondering whether or not you should prewash baby clothes (you really wouldn't believe the number of people that ask Mr. Google that question). Apparently it also points to Burghbaby.com if you search for, oh say, DISMEMBERED BLONDS!

Honest to goodness, someone got here by typing "dismembered blonds" into their search engine. The very fact that someone would do that is enough to make me go EWWWW, but add to it the fact that the person hung around for 3 page views and over 2 minutes and I'm officially creeped out. Really, I used those words in a post that was talking about Barbie dolls, and I'm sorry, but there were no photos. (The image is, however, still seared into my mind's eye.) If you are looking for photographs of disemboweled brunettes, disconnected redheads, or dismembered blonds, please go elsewhere. Buh-Bye, now. I SAID BUH-BYE. LEAVE. GET OUT OF HERE.

And if you by chance live in Montcon, New Brunswick (that's in Canada for you geographically challenged folks), you might want to be a little more leery of your neighbors. Because one of them is a SERIOUS FREAK. I'd look for the one that was at his/her computer at 10:20 pm last night.

(Back to that slight veer off topic . . . I think not. I have absolutely no evidence that my father-in-law knows our phone number, so why should I have his memorized? That's what cell phone phonebooks are for, baby. For that twice a year phone call that we make.)

(P.S. Hi Dad! Glad you still come by here to visit. Alexis sends you lots of hugs and kisses.)

Caution: The following image does not contain dismembered blonds. It does, however, contain much cuteness including a one-year old that will not be without Dora or Bear for even one second. Not even if food is involved.

Run In Peace

You would think that a full day of just me and the Crazy One-Year Old would wield some funny story or lifelong lesson. But really, it didn't. She was about as boring as boring can be (Except at lunch when I had the audacity to give her yogurt after she asked for -you guessed it- yogurt. Never let a one-year old tell you what they want. They lie like dogs and will try very hard to trick you with their backwards logic.).

Since Alexis let me down today, I shall revert to Saturday for some good times. We had some friends over and, oh, how Alexis clung to "Aunt" Estee. She clung like the odor of dirty gym socks in a locker room. We're talking about Category 5 stalking here, people. Estee could not walk in or out of a room without her shadow toddling behind her.

The one, and only one, exception came about whilst I was putting together part of the cemetery in the front yard. If you are assembling a cemetery, then you can be sure that your one-year old will suddenly find your every move to be utterly and completely fascinating. She followed me around, installing fence, placing tombstones, and running electrical cords. I would say she was a great help, but then I would by lying like a dog.

Once the cemetery was essentially complete, Alexis took to running laps around and through all the tombstones, generally yucking herself up with her fantastic running skills. Did you ever see the Friends episode where Phoebe runs? That's what she looked like, except perhaps a little bit crazier. And I was left to wonder, is it creepy that my one-year old gets her kicks out of running around in a cemetery?

Anybody Else Want to Contribute to Ruining My Day?

I have a policy that I will not mix work things with Alexis things. I find that it is good practice to have to leave the job at the job, so I try to do just that. Plus, talking about your job on a blog is not the brightest idea. Try as I might, I cannot convince myself that it would be a good time to abandon that theory, so I'll just say this, I am now a stay-at-home Mom. And it wasn't pretty. In the past few hours, I have found that my former co-workers and customers are some of the most incredible people ever. Their reactions have been humbling, touching, and at times, very amusing. So thank you to each and every one of you, and you all know how it really was. I appreciate that more than you can possibly know.

(Oh, and for the rest of you, there is TOTALLY a major story there. You might be able to pry it out of my via email.)

To make matters even more fun for me, Alexis has spent her day in a foul mood. This after discovering that I meant business when I told her she was on her own after the first time she woke up last night. It was nice of her to sleep through 3:30 for a change, but I would have really preferred to not be awake at 11:00 and again at 2:00. A half hour worth of crying fits tends to wear one out, so she was wiped out all day long. And now, she's in bed, per her request. She decided she was done being grumpy and should just go to bed 30 minutes early. I would say good for her, but I think that means I will not be sleeping in tomorrow morning. Darn it.

Oh well, I'm going to go wallow in self-pity and maybe go to bed early myself. Oh, and kick myself for not aggressively pursuing some opportunities that were in front of me a few weeks ago. I can be such an idiot sometimes. *kick* *kick*