Ready for greatness

Tomorrow we leave for an almost two week trip to the east coast. Atlanta-New York-Maryland to see some friends get married, visit some newly hatched babes, reunite with beloved family members and GO OUT IN NYC WITHOUT HAVING TO WORRY ABOUT NURSING. Hip, hip hooray for built-in family babysitters. As much as I enjoy living in San Francisco, the thought of being nearer to family and close friends is a delightful one. I miss my people.

My husband and I each chose to get Mexican for our respective lunches today because we knew we'd crave it while away. This is love, people.

While playing in the playground sandbox yesterday, Mr. Monk was digging away at the world's problems with his shovel and uncovered a treasure trove of cat poop. Apparently, my son's personal nirvana is just one giant kitty litter after dark. I scooped out what I could, got my baby the hell out of there and alerted all the other nannies/moms about the contamination. Most agreed that it was pretty gross, shrugged, and went back to gossiping while their kids continue to pour the sand down their pants, in their mouths, and in each others hair.

Speaking of hair, today was the first time I had my hair professionally colored in almost two years. Holy moly, so that's what it should look like. The greys were staging a mutiny. And now they are dead. For 6-8 weeks.

So...flying across country with a 13 month old that can't seem to sit still/be held/keep quiet for more than 45 seconds? Thinking this might be the trip that we order drinks for all our seat neighbors.

Many, many thanks to Irene from I'm a Silly Mami and Roxanne from Not Winning Mom of the Year for my Liebster Awards. Just knowing that my musings and rantings amused you both is reward enough. But, feel free to send chocolates too. Seriously, the blog community is so supportive and welcoming that it's almost therapeutic to be a part of it. And it's free! One of these days I'll get around to posting some of my faves too--procrastination is my strong suit (as evidenced by the fact that it's almost 11 and I haven't even packed)!

Who needs a playground filled with cat poop when you have a laundromat with its own coffee shop?

Thou Shall Not Covet

Today when I was getting my hair done (everyone deserves a blowout for her birthday), I read "People" magazine cover to cover. Something about a beauty salon makes me crave celebrity gossip. I just had to know how Sandy Bullock got her life back on track--short version: she loves being a mama (and I think she got extensions).

I happened upon a picture of Jennifer Aniston and her new man, whom I will always think of as the premature ejaculator from Sex & The City, looking quite fetching.

She was carrying this purse:



And, she has it in brown!


I want! In black, preferably.

Too bad it's $4,000. While I am quite a shopper, there's no way I can pull that rabbit out of my hat. I met Jen once years ago when I was in law school and working at an entertainment law firm in LA. She was a client of the firm and seriously could not have been nicer. This was back in the Brad days, so I got to say hi to his hairy self too. I completely forgot about that five minutes of my life until I started writing this. Anyway, do you think maybe if I call her up and explain how much I like the bag she might just give me one? She has two! I'd even take the brown.

Ten things that would bother me at home, but somehow don't on a tropical vacation:

* Being woken up by Mr. Monk at 5:30 am the first morning.

* Being woken up by Mr. Schneed at 5:30 am the next morning.

* Hearing unidentifiable animal sounds outside window while trying to fall asleep.

* Eating my weight in ice cream and shave ice.

* Watching lizards crawl up and down the walls of our bedroom.

* Navigating around a centipede on the shower door handle while trying to get out.

* Cleaning mashed papaya bits out of Mr. Monk's hair.

* Cleaning mashed papaya bits out of my hair.

* Getting caught in at least two rainstorms a day.

* Possessing untameable hair that seems to grow horizontally by the hour.