Monday, April 30, 2012

Baby's First Sports Car

This is what baby road rage looks like.

Alexandra got to try out a Lotus tonight. She had a hard time reaching the pedals. This is my cool look. Mike informs me that it's not very cool.

This was the start to our small group night of fun, for which I created a pannekoeken feast in honor of Queens Day. Unfortunately, the fun was cut short by an allergy scare when Allie broke out in hives and her eyes got swollen! It was scary, but now she seems to be just fine. The end.

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Weekend Adventure with Alexandra

Mike found us a baby backpack on Craigslist, so now we can get our hike on. And it's a good thing because since we didn't have a backpack, we'd been taking hikes in the neighborhoods surrounding us (you know, the mansions like this one), and it was making me start to feel like I need to get rich and buy a mansion. So now we're back on our game with our trusty Kelty. Alexandra likes it too.


Today, Mike's store was selling ice cream at an event at Glen Eyrie, so we got to park there and head off. (Glen Eyrie has gotten rather stingy with using their grounds in the past couple of years.) We headed up a way we've never gone, up the Fire Road to an overlook of Queens Canyon. This is a pic of me coming down, but it is also, coincidentally, what it looked like going up. 

Then we turned off onto this steep, twisty turvy path to overlook the canyon.  If my mom saw where we were hiking with the baby in a backpack, she would get the vapors. I had to not look down. At one point, we passed a car, crashed upside down. It had clearly crashed from the much, much higher up 4-wheel road above us. The landscape around us seemed secret and special.

The baby thought it was less special and started crying right about the time that we realized we had somehow missed the turn off for our trail. Hiking on a cliff with a tippy backpack on with a screaming baby in it takes strong nerves.

Therefore, Mike got to carry her the whole way. But using his handy-dandy GPS on his phone, Mike discovered we had gone waaaaaay too far and could just hike up the mountain to get to the Rampart Range Road. If you know the Springs, you know how high that means we hiked! After making it up to the road, we were treated with a fabulous view. It was all worth it in the end.

Luckily, once we found the road, it was a much easier trek back to the car. And for our troubles, we ran into these majestic beasts on our way out. 


And now, Mike is passed out on the couch, and I'm not sure if he'll ever recover!

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Baby in a Sink

In case that last post got too serious for you, here's a baby in a sink.

Jesus Makes Me Uncomfortable

My Bible reading has been abysmal for a little while...a lot a while. So I finally decided to go digital and subscribe to an RSS feed, which has been great! For the time I've been using it, I've been faithful in my Bible reading. So, as I surveyed last week and how this new found faithfulness has effected me, what did I find? Did I find a newly glowing complexion and pearls of wisdom to bestow upon those I meet in passing?

No, what I've found is that Jesus makes me uncomfortable.

I started my reading in Luke, one of my favorite writers. And day after day, I read parables of Jesus that just make me grimace a little bit. Things such as, you must hate your children. I've heard sermon after sermon explaining away the uncomfortableness of Jesus, but it struck me that maybe I just need to sit in it a little. To remember that, yes, Jesus is uncomfortable because He is God.

The Bible isn't a self-help book, and Jesus isn't a teddy bear.

How easy is it for us to serve up a skim-milk version of Jesus? How often do we approach our Bible reading with the intent of "getting something out of it," perhaps a little tidbit we can share at small group to show our piety? Do we boil down the holy Word into sound bytes? Do we input the Scripture and expect to output a Happy-Holy Pill that we can roll around in our hand and plop out into the hands of others?

I'm, of course, preaching to myself. As a writer, it's my profession to take complicated, gnarly topics and tie them up in a neat little package with a tidy red bow.

There is a poem I wrote my thesis about in college, "Archaic Torso of Apollo" by Rainer Maria Rilke. One of the lines (translated) says that this statue, a torso of Apollo, "bursts like a star." I'm sure to lose my audience now, but I will include the poem below, nonetheless (in all its weaknesses, as a translation):

We cannot know his legendary head
with eyes like ripening fruit. And yet his torso
is still suffused with brilliance from inside,
like a lamp, in which his gaze, now turned to low,

gleams in all its power. Otherwise
the curved breast could not dazzle you so, nor could
a smile run through the placid hips and thighs
to that dark center where procreation flared.

Otherwise this stone would seem defaced
beneath the translucent cascade of the shoulders
and would not glisten like a wild beast's fur:

would not, from all the borders of itself,
burst like a star: for here there is no place
that does not see you. You must change your life.

To the author, this chunk of chiseled rock had the power to say, "You must change your life." This inanimate stone could dazzle you and see you. For some reason, I can't help comparing the two: The dazzling but dead statue written of by Rilke and the fuzzy, plush toy Jesus crafted by us.

Woe to me when I seek to contain Jesus in a sound byte. When I wash away all the itchy bits of Jesus' words that don't fit neatly into my psyche.

What I need to remember is that God is uncomfortable. He's not me. I don't get Him. I never will. I'm a small-minded worm that grasps at the faintest hints of meaning and falls utterly short.

I must change my life.

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Hiking in Red Rock Canyon

Today, Alexandra took a walk through Red Rock Canyon. Though she hasn't been here in quite a while, it's still one of her favorites. She loved looking at the white blossoming crabapples and gazing at the rock climbers silhouted against the perfectly blue sky. Actually, she was far more concerned with chewing on her seat strap than any of that, but her parents enjoyed it anyway.

Alexandra's First Play Date

Alexandra had her first play date yesterday with her friend. She was pretty talkative. He wasn't totally sure of her.


This went on for quite awhile.


I can already tell Allie's going to be a hit with the boys!

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

7 Months and Counting

Murgir Korma

Who knew that working for Compassion, I'd get to become a food blogger? :) Here's a Bengali dish we tried out called Murgir Korma.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Silly Videos

Enough words - it's silly video time!

I like to call this one "yellow nun."


I call this one "Baby Rappa."


And I don't call this one anything, because she doesn't actually do anything, but I still like it.


Monday, April 16, 2012

I Like Words

Today, a friend of mine posted this on Facebook:

"Becoming a writer is not a 'career decision' like becoming a doctor or a policeman. You don't choose it so much as get chosen, and once you accept the fact that you're not fit for anything else, you have to be prepared to walk a long, hard road for the rest of your days." ~Paul Auster

Writers often say such things. We're kind of drama queens. But I've never felt like other writers in this regard. Perhaps it's because I never believed I would actually get to be a writer. I consider writing more fun than philosophical imperative. Most likely it's because I'm a second-rate writer to the Asters of the world. (I never could finish his New York Trilogy, but love the likes of J.K. Rowling.)

Rather, these words express my feelings so much better. I like words too. They're odd little things to like so dearly, but there seems to be a fair few of us who do. Why is that? What is it about f-o-u-r little letters that can bring such brava to our hearts?

Words are the perfect meeting of the worlds - at once both material and immaterial, bringing together flesh and mind. The hard clicks of the tongue and the smacking of the lips catching and chewing wispy thoughts that otherwise float away. Words are as ethereal as the wind and as solid as a concrete bench. Words remembered reminisce with us. Other words strike when we're angry. Some whisper when we're sad.

But enough of my words. Here are just a few of the words that I have loved and that come and visit me on cold days like a cup of hot cocoa. I'm sure to remember more words once I've hit publish, so I'll put them in the comments, and please put yours there too.



I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.


You do not do, you do not do, anymore black shoe.



Einmal wenn ich dich verlier, wirst du schlafen konnen, ohne dass ich wie eine Lindenkrone mich verflustre uber dir?


Thus, though we cannot make our sun stand still, yet we will make him run.

I grow old...I grow old...I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.


The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep.


I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things, Sam.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

The Feminine Curse

So when I said yesterday that I wasn't thinking about anything, I was lying. I've been thinking about differing interpretations of the curse in Genesis 3:16. When I told my husband this he said, "Do people think about that kind of thing?" Read: "Who cares?" Isn't this the kind of theological hair-splitting that divides people and leads nowhere? My answer is no. I think our interpretation of this particular verse has serious ramifications, and so I am jumping in.

I'll give you the short version: Genesis 3:16 is right after Adam and Eve sinned, and God is telling them the consequences of their choice:

"To the woman he said, 'I will greatly increase your pains in childbearing; with pain you will give birth to children. Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you.'"

The first part of this curse is pretty obvious: Having babies hurts. The second part, however, has two or three different interpretations. In the last 10 or so years, I have primarily heard the modern interpretation: That our "desire" for our husband is actually a desire to control our husbands and usurp their positions. This interpretation was born relatively recently as a reaction to the feminist movement, but has become prevalent in evangelical churches.

The more traditional understanding of this verse is the more straightforward one - and the one that I personally subscribe to: That the curse is that women desire men - an unhealthy, oversized attachment to men. As Wendy Alsup puts it: "The woman's root problem is that, even though child birth is painful and the man rules her, she still has a morbid craving for him, looking to him in completely unhealthy ways that do not reflect her status as image bearer of God. The woman wants something from the man that he was never intended to provide her, that he even on his best day is not equipped to provide. He becomes her idol."

You should read Alsup's analysis of the verse for a linguistic look at different interpretations of it. (And my post probably wouldn't be complete without reading her post first.) What's more interesting to me is the evidence we see around us of the curse and the implications for our understanding.

If the Scriptures are true, it seems that the curse should be a pretty obvious thing to detect, right? This is certainly so with man's curse: "Cursed is the ground because of you; through painful toil you will eat of it all the days of your life. It will produce thorns and thistles for you, and you will eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food" (Genesis 3:17-19).

There is a reason farmers have high suicide rates. The story of man is very much the story of people struggling to feed themselves with an uncooperative land.

So shouldn't it be fairly obvious what the woman's curse is as well? If we look at history, what do we see? If the modern interpretation is correct, we should see history strewn with stories of women attempting to control and subvert men. If such stories exist, they are the footnotes of history. What is quite easy to see from a cursory glance at history and our current world is something altogether different: It's the story of a woman's morbid co-dependence on her man, even as he dominates and abuses her. This story has been told over and over again. And if I take down the drama level for a moment, even in women in healthy relationships, there is a tendency for a woman to seek her all in men: to spend her teen years longing and over-romanticizing men, to spend her dating years utterly preoccupied with the finding of that man, and spend her married years seeking to find complete satisfaction in that one romantic relationship. It's the reason so many women spend far too much energy on gaining the affirmation of the opposite sex.

The curses, seen this way, have a lot in common. Both of them are curses because they both represent things that should be a normal part of a healthy life, but instead they become massive, all-consuming, utterly-distracting, obsessions. Hard labor is a curse because work becomes something that drains men, that consumes their energy and their love, becomes and idol and an obstacle, an open wound that drains their vital force and can drive them to do things of which they are not worthy. Women do the same things with relationships: they obsess, they put in huge amounts of time and money and effort, they're pushed to do things they know they shouldn't, their hearts become utterly wrapped around them. For men, the curse is work, for women, the curse is relationships. But both struggle with them in the same way. (This is a general truth, of course. Obviously there are men who go wrong in the same way with relationships and women who go wrong in the same way with work. We can all go wrong in every way, given the opportunity.) The obsession can even become so complete for a woman, that, finding that long-strived-for ultimate relationship to somehow be less than ultimate, that she makes the modern interpretation come true by trying to reshape and reform her relatoinship (and her mate) to make the fairytale come true, so that even the object of her love becomes merely another means to meeting that goal. Men do this too, in their own way, working and obsessing to the point that they subjugate or lose they thing that they were working for (to support a life, to support a family, and do good). They get so lost in it that they find they've worked the thing they were working for right out of existence.

For a woman, the curse at its worst, of which there are a painful number of examples, is the woman who can't seem to leave or stay away from the man who hurts her. The curse in its seemingly mildest form is the nice Christian wife whose husband has become her ultimate source of happiness, ambition, hopes - in short, her god.

Am I unfair to my sex? I think the other interpretation is even more so.

That preachers have resonated with the interpretation of Genesis 3:16 of women's desire to control men isn't all that surprising. Am I wrong in guessing that some men would read "her desire will be for her husband" and secretly wonder to themselves, "What's wrong with that? Sounds awesome!" From a man's perspective, the curse looks like a boon.

But might the interpretation of women as thirsting to seize their power be more understandable to men? This may sound snarky and unkind, so please give me the benefit of the doubt, but we are more readily able to see - or suspect - our own faults in others, whereas we can be quite blind to flaws in others that aren't problems for us at all. A greedy woman can easily suspect others around her are also greedy and out to get what is rightfully hers. Whereas, if you don't particularly struggle with greed, you might naively assume that no one else does either. Mightn't men - whom history has shown thirst for power and dominance - too readily suspect that women are waiting to take over, while overlooking the fact that women can tend to be overly dependent on their affirmation?

It would be easy to oversimplify here, and say, "Men are the dominant ones" or "Women are the controlling ones." The truth is that neither tendencies are strictly gender-specific. Alexander the Great, arguably the most dominating man who ever lived, had a very dominant mother. But in general, it seems odd that this modern evangelical culture paints women with the fault that has long been known as the domain of man. As Abigail Adams wrote to her husband in 1776, "That your Sex are Naturally Tyrannical is a Truth so thoroughly established as to admit of no dispute."

You might say, "Yes, but isn't it difficult for a woman to submit to her husband, as Ephesians instructs her to?" The answer is, yes, it is certainly difficult for her to do so. It is difficult for both men and women to submit to the headship of others - it isn't a particularly feminine vice. It's why climbing the corporate ladder is so prevalent - many men spend their prime years trying to get higher and higher on that ladder with fewer and fewer people above them and more and more below them. But while the distaste for submitting to others is a particularly human problem, and not only a feminine one, the deep need and longing for the affirmation of the opposite sex is a particularly feminine struggle. Women want to spend their Saturday nights watching movies in which women gain the affection of men. Men want to watch things blow up.

The question remains: what effect is this modern interpretation having on evangelical culture? I think it can be summed up in one word: Suspicion. Whereas the more traditional understanding of Genesis 3:16, that of women's "morbid craving" for man, would prompt us to compassion, the modern understanding of women's supposed coup for power prompts suspicion and rivalry between men and women.

The secular culture is ripe for suspicion, if you listen to conservative Republican shock jocks, which many evangelical men do. According to those such as Rush Limbaugh, feminazis are lurking behind every corner to take down the men. Whether or not the alleged feminazis exist, this suspicious, paranoid attitude toward women leads to misogyny. Limbaugh's recent accusation that a woman is a "slut" based on her opinion on the government's role in health care leaps to mind.

I think this attitude of suspicion has bled into the church. And why wouldn't it? If men are repeatedly told that women are waiting to overthrow their rule, they would naturally look around in worry. Perhaps this is why we see men claiming that Christianity has become overly feminized and demasculated. Certainly, there are women (and men) who no longer subscribe to the teachings that church leadership should be male. However, this can't be oversimplified to mean that all women are desiring to overtake and control their men and churches. In many churches, and in many societies, women step up to lead because they feel have to - because the men simply can't be bothered to do so (they're not interested, or they're adolescent man-childs, or are simply off getting drunk). (This last comment courtesy of Mike.) (And my point isn't that there aren't women who exist who want to control, it's that I don't think this is the correct interpretation of this verse. -Amber's comment)

I won't be so bold as to claim that a suspicious attitude towards women's intentions leads to misogyny among male church leaders, but I think it wouldn't be too bold to say that it doesn't lead to cuddly thoughts. While the traditional understanding of the passage would, hopefully, prompt men to have understanding and protective feelings toward women, the modern one would prompt feelings of rivalry and threat. We need look no further than the Bible to see how leaders can react when they feel threatened (even falsely so). Saul, who once loved David and provided for him, when suspicious that David was secretly out to get him, became the bloodthirsty villain of dozens of psalms.

This is why the interpretation of this verse matters. The modern understanding brings on a double curse of enmity between men and women, a rivalry and distrust. And so what we really need to ask is, is this what the verse really means, or are we simply bringing double trouble on ourselves?

Friday, April 13, 2012

Outside My Window

I was looking through past posts to see what I was up to last year this time, and I was posting one of these!

Outside my window: The crabapple we had just planted this time last year, named Fertilitree in honor of our pregnancy, is vibrant fuchsia. I had this swell idea to take a picture of the tree each year with Alexandra, Fertilibaby herself, in front of it, to show the progress. Here they are looking loverly.

Since Allie has outgrown her carrier and we can't do trail hiking without it, Mike and I have been taking walks in the richy-rich neighborhoods around us, where we can take her stroller. Rather than drooling over their homes, I have been drooling over their landscaping, and I want to plant about 27 of these trees on our lot. But that might be a tad costly, so Mike suggested plant piracy. He says it's not stealing if you call it piracy.

I am thinking: About the insurance claim for my surgery 9 months ago, about the dishes in the sink, about all the things I'd like to get done this short, about nothing in particular.

From the kitchen: I'm very proud to report that I bought, cooked, and ate real food this week. (Last night was chicken breasts with mushrooms and bacon in an almond sauce.) The baby, on the other hand, is polite but firm in her refusal to let any sustenance other than milk pass her lips.

I am wearing: Hmm...Where did this question even come from? It sounds a little 900-number, no? But if you must know, I'm wearing my sister's hand-me-down Roxy shirt. Even at 33, I still have the great privilege of wearing her clothes once she's moved on from them. But this leads me to another question: At what age must you stop wearing Roxy clothing? Maybe the fact that this shirt is an XL, and I'm an average sized woman should be a hint (that they were made for baby midgets).

I am reading: My first thought upon reading this one was, "Oh yeah, books, I remember those." My entertainment has been of the Hulu persuasion of late. I have a stack of books covered in dust and calling my name, but I am forsaking them for The Voice and Worst Cooks in America. Oh, the state of the world!

I am hoping: My husband finishes our bathroom tiling project this weekend. I can date the stalling of the project with my wee babe's birth, so it has now officially been 7 months since I've been able to use my master bathroom.

I am hearing: My baby's fussing. I just can't get that little thing to nap. You'd think that by now, 7 months in, I'd have some sort of clue. Nope. None. I'm more clueless than ever.

I am creating: Favors for my sister's baby shower. But I can't tell you about that, because you might tell her.

One of my favorite things: Morning naps with the baby. I've gotten in the habit of plopping Allie in the bed next to me in the morning and taking her first nap with her. It's delightful and the best hour of my day.

A few plans for the rest of the week: It's a working weekend for us at the Vanny Pad, but I won't bore you with the details.

A picture thought for the day: See above. Shocker: It's of Allie.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Our Modern Idol: The Early Church

When we as Christians think about our modern-day idols, the things that trip up our feet and slow us down, we often list things like money, relationships, or careers. But I think we, as a whole, have a much holier-sounding idol: The Early Church.

In church or in small group or in books, when we talk about how we ought to be or how we're currently failing, so often that hallowed term "The Early Church" comes up. We think of it in hushed tones and reminisce for a time we never knew. We talk about their faith. Their unity. Their sacrifice. Their radical lives. And sometimes we create around it a sense of fairy dust. A bit of the magical. The days gone by 2,000 years ago become that of wonder and myth. And we admonish ourselves to be more like them.

But in the good ol' days, there was no fairy dust. There was the Holy Spirit. And that Holy Spirit is the same Spirit at work today. He is not dissipated, He is not weakened. He is the same now and then.

And our idolization of the Early Church has a very dangerous side effect: When the Early Church becomes the stuff of legend, we consider their faith and acts and heart unattainable. We think of them as the Captains of the Football Team to our slouching misfits who were picked last for dodgeball.

The secret is that the Early Church was just a bunch of goof-ups, like us. The list of their problems that Paul enumerates would cause us to not walk, but run, from their church doors if they existed today...getting drunk during communion...having sex with your stepmother...owning slaves. We probably wouldn't want to associate with that church in our polite society.

The Early Church had its problems - it was filled with people, real people, just like our churches are today. But the Early Church did great things because God did - and does - great things.

The truth is that the glory days aren't over. God is still glorious today and doing glorious things. The Church will always go through an ebb and flow, just as people go through an ebb and flow and high and low. But when we become overly focused on how great the Early Church was and how stinky we are in comparison, the problem is the same as any self-esteem problem: Our eyes are on ourselves and not on God.

Our idol of the Early Church is the lie that there was something magic in the water that we don't have today. It is the lie that their greatness depended on them instead of on God. It is the lie that the story ended with them, instead of continuing on in us.

*Written with thoughts stolen from my husband and small group.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Sitting Pretty

I know I already put a post up about Allie sitting up on her own, but now she's officially mastered the art of sitting up.


Sunday, April 8, 2012

Happy Easter!


Uhh...take two. Happy Easter!


Thursday, April 5, 2012

Marathon Update

So I've been thinking about the marathon, and I've become a bit concerned about doing such a large bit of exercise while nursing. Some women experience a decrease in milk supply when they do major feats. Couple that with me being out of country for five days a couple weeks before the walk, and I was getting a bit nervous. I don't want to put my hare-brained ideas before my baby's food supply!

And so, I've decided to change the marathon to a half marathon. I passed the idea by my friends who have agreed to do it with me, and we are all a bit relieved. So we are now scheduled to walk a half marathon (or a little bit longer) on June 30th. We'll probably walk 15 miles - from Palmer Lake to Ice Lake on the Air Force Academy.

I would like to tell you that I stopped posting about my walks because I have been so busy walking long distances that I haven't had time to post about it. But the truth is that I haven't gotten around to much walking, though I have gotten a couple good ones in.

But who has time to walk when you have to talk silly videos of your baby?

Here is one of said videos. A Jedi Princess just out of her bath.


This Jedi Princess also mastered the art of sitting unaided today. (Which reminds me, if I haven't said before, that Allie also started saying "mama" last week. She says it when she's in distress. Pretty adorable.)


And last, Allie wanted to say thank you to Grandma and Grandpa Van for her Easter present. video


Tuesday, April 3, 2012


Amber and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Arm

In the past week, my arm has been yellow, orange, red, purple, and now green.

I tried, unsuccessfully, to take a picture that shows the purple fringe around my green arm. Allie wondered why I was taking a picture of anything other than her.

I guess she is a bit more interesting than a disfigured, discolored arm.

Monday, April 2, 2012

Why Was I Not Obese?

This is what my fridge currently looks like:

Let me break it down for you:
  • A gallon of milk from the local dairy. (I only point out that it's from the "local dairy" because it goes downhill pretty quickly from here, and I need to save some respect.)
  • An old jar of artichoke hearts that probably needs to be thrown out
  • A jar of olives, which I don't know if it needs to be thrown out or not because I have no idea how long olives last in a jar, so I neither eat them nor throw them out
  • A jar of hot sauce
  • A container of baby food
  • Some weird juice my sister gave me. My sister is always into some new weird juice every time I see her. This time it is aloe juice with bits of jellyfish floating in it. (But it was so generous of her to give it to me, nonetheless. I'm sure jellyfish bits are expensive.)
  • A tub of double chocolate cookie dough
  • A box of baking soda
  • A package of corn tortillas
  • Three Baby-bel cheese rounds
  • A head of garlic

Not very promising, is it? I could go grocery shopping, but I believe I am slowly becoming agoraphobic.

It is in the midst of this food desert that I found myself resorting to some of my old high school snacks. And it reminded me, man, why was I not obese in high school? My sister and I would get home from school around 3, while our parents were still working. We'd sit on the living room floor and I'd do my math homework while watching Days of Our Lives from 3-4 and Oprah from 4-5. And, of course, we needed a snack.

These snacks were superlative. And I wanted to give you just one small glimpse into them.

Bowl o' peanut butter. This is exactly what it sounds like, and is what I indulged in today (although it was the more respectable spoon o' peanut butter.) I'd take one of our old blue plastic bowls, fill it with peanut butter, then coat said peanut butter in honey. Then I'd eat it like ice cream. I estimate this afternoon snack was roughly 37,251 calories. I should have probably paid attention in my health class in high school. Because I'm pretty sure they don't recommend this. (Although my spoonful of peanut butter and honey today was simply delightful.)

Oreo Soup. Another favorite. I'd take a bunch of Oreos, let's say 10 (but who's counting?) and smash them up in the bottom of a bowl. Then I'd add milk and stir. Delicious soupy goodness.

Pot o' Popcorn. OK, so this one doesn't sound so bad, right? If you don't think so, you've never met me. My sister and I would make a huge pot of popcorn and melt a stick of butter to pour on top to keep us company with Oprah. It was a lot.

Loaf o' Bread. The honor of this one probably goes to my sister more than it goes to me. The recipe is fairly simple: Toast a loaf of bread. Butter it. Eat it - all of it. Add some jam for good measure.

To my credit, I never ate much at lunch or dinner. I didn't like meat, and so I'd fill up on snacks instead. I think this frustrated my parents ever so slightly when I wouldn't eat the steak they made me because I'd eaten a loaf of bread for a snack. And to my parents' credit, they would have never let us eat like this had they known. They were very health conscious. Thank God - can you imagine what I'd have eaten if they weren't?

This post was brought to you by my my gimpy wrist, my agoraphobia, my laziness, my "work-at-home mom" trump card, and a whole host of other excuses for my empty fridge.

By the way, Allie says hi.

Sunday, April 1, 2012

It's About Time for Another Laughing Post

I love Allie's laugh. Other babies giggle. Our baby guffaws. It's not very ladylike. But it's awful cute.


And just for kicks, here's a video of how Mike found Allie in her crib this afternoon, instead of sleeping.