Saint Day

Michael and I don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day. I’m sure that comes as a great shock to those who know us. In fact, it’s so much not celebrated that I spent all day thinking Valentine’s was tomorrow.

I’ve never been a fan of this “holiday.” I can get behind the elementary school version of Valentine’s Day: making cards from construction paper, classroom parties, candy. Many fond memories of that. Even as an adult, a sweet card from your grandmother or other family and friends is fun. But the thing that irks me the most is seeing poor guys who are victim to the abuse of Valentine’s Day by women who think chick flicks actually depict love. These women hold this farcical ideal over their men and demand proof of their love with creativity, ‘romance,’ and gifts. Yes, let’s pile on something else to stress out the people we love. That’s the spirit of the day!

Seriously. I’m sure St. Valentine was a really cool guy and he did lots of neat things. But I’m also pretty sure he didn’t die so people around the country could give each other flowers and chocolates and candle-lit dinners. And I’m rather certain that the purpose of his life was not so you could have the most romantic day of yours. If you’re going to celebrate, go nuts! But a healthy dose of reality is in order.

Michael says he prefers to love me every day of the year. Hence, chocolates can ALWAYS be found around our house. And I’m okay with that.

Reach Out and Touch Someone

I must introduce you to a new term because it has been quite the topic of conversation among Nashville friends for some time now and I feel the need to pass along the amusement it has brought us.

junk hug (n): a full-frontal hug with pelvic thrust

Just the image and ridiculousness of this makes me laugh. Works well to express your sympathy, too: “Awww, poor thing. Do you need a junk hug?”

A friend’s co-worker came up with it. (And when I met him I stayed a safe distance away.) Upon it's creation, he said he would no longer shake client's hands - he would junk hug them. An added personal touch in our increasingly computerized and impersonal world. He may have something there.

One Month and Counting

Camille is one month old today.... and those cheeks keep getting bigger! Which is a good thing because that means she is growing and happy and healthy. We spend most of our days inside since it is so stinkin' cold here right now (see previous post with snow on the ground!). Although I do have some moments of cabin fever, I'm actually kinda glad for the excuse to stay indoors and not have to freeze. This Texas girl is not a fan of cold - can't wear flip-flops in the snow.


Now that she's a bit older, we have taken her over to friends' houses for dinner a couple times, so we're getting out some. It's good for mommy's sanity. And she's been great and laid back for all of the outings.

Here she is with daddy, getting her burp on. They like to have staring contests and she makes faces that make daddy laugh.



So far in my short stint in motherhood I've learned a couple things:

--baby poop can sqirt very, very far
--tiny beings can produce belches that would shame a trucker
--double decker moonpies - where have you been my whole life?
--no time, no place, no position is too impossible to be able to sleep
--if yawns are contagious and I always catch hers, why doesn't she ever catch mine?
--baby smiles are the sweetest bits of heaven, even if they're only related to gas


Michael and I are really enjoying this precious time. A time when things are tiny and smell like baby. A time when faux-hawks and neck rolls are cute.

Sometimes I figure she has to wonder, 'who are these crazy people? And seriously, can I eat now?'

The View

From our balcony this morning....