Yearbookize me!

1976
Hee hee. I love stuff like this. Want to do the same? Click here and upload your own photo.

At the Condo Café...

an Amaretto Sour awaits.*

*The first of many Althouse-inspired entries.

Normally that would be the speed at which I was traveling

But sadly, it is the temperature. And when the temp is 109°, your kid is in the backseat looking like this...

Orphan

Last Friday I met up with friend, and fellow scary-movie addict, Sharon to catch Orphan. To prepare for the movie, we enjoyed facials at Coldwater Creek Spa and dinner at Pastini Pastaria. We were relaxed with glowing faces and full stomachs as we made our way into the theatre. (Is there any better way to view a horror flick?) So here is...

Orphan Lessons Learned:

1. Murderous orphans from Russia appear even more homicidal when shown in black light.

2. Having two kids is enough. When you go for a third by adopting an orphan from Russia, you'll likely run into trouble. The kind of trouble that comes with a crazy Russian orphan who wears weird bands around her neck and wrists and pushes kids off of play structures at the park. Also, she's likely to lie about being able to play the piano because all creepy orphans lie.

3. True to stereotype, if you are the only black person in the film, you aren't going to make it out alive. Russian orphans have no qualms about killing you off. Not even God will be able to save you from this crazy orphan, sister.

4. If you sense something is wrong with Esther and you get your other two kids alone in the car for a few seconds to ask them if everything is okay, try to use some of that female intuition when they stare back at you fearfully and stutter when saying "No, everything's good," to recognize they fear for their very lives. It's time to vamoose and leave that likely-to-kill-you-and-your-kids orphan behind.

5. Artistically-talented orphans may appear to be gifted but their art is cleverly hiding the truth, that they are really murderous orphans with affinities for older men.

6. When you convince yourself that having a third child is the way to go, don't go to the orphanage and select the weird kid of the bunch. Despite what you think, it's not okay to be different, especially when different means you are a crazy orphan who kills people.

7. For God's sake do not wear a purple variegated sweater after you adopt Killing Orphan Esther. When you race to the hospital after creepy E tries to kill your son, the orderlies are going to assume because you're wearing that thing that you are out of your mind. You'll get a shot to sedate you and the homicidal maniac you adopted will get a free pass back home.

Beauty the wonder dog farts

Me, running out of the bedroom about 10 seconds after Darr: It's like a cloud of death.

Darr: A big, viscous cloud.

Touché

I have been called out, people. Bruce had to go clear back to January to find a political post to share with me the following:

It is not for lack of material. My husband can attest to this, as I usually bombard him in the morning with a litany of my thoughts on various happenings. It's a time thing. I usually don't have enough of it. Just so happens I have a few seconds now, though.

Did you know there are folks called birthers who have latched on to this idea that Obama is not a natural born citizen and therefore ineligible to be our commander-in-chief? Well, probably you know this but I find it significant that they now have a name. I still don't understand why the Certificate of Live Birth isn't acceptable proof. And I am unable to accept statements of its purported lack of authenticity by people who have never seen the actual document. Where else does a Certificate of Live Birth come from except from the state in which you were born? You can question the reasons for Obama's refusal to issue a copy of his actual birth certificate but without proof it's all just innuendo, and not terribly productive.

As Darr put it over dinner tonight when I questioned why Obama might not want to release his birth certificate to put an end to the debate, he said "Maybe he's been busy."

Toddler bedroom, soon to be featuring art from Fall Down Tree

Perhaps a visual will help.* (To vote, click here.) Behold...

les dinosaurs

les robot

les animaux

avions, trains, et automobiles

I found Fall Down Tree: fine art for little ones on Etsy, the greatest place to shop on the planet, after an extensive and exhausting search. In a word, the art is AWESOME. I'm no art critic so I won't be able to spout an insightful and well-thought out critique of Mr. Record's work. What I can say is that I like it. A lot. It's whimsical but sort of gritty, too. The cars in particular have this appealing minimalism that makes me want to buy an extra set to hang by my desk. Oh, and if you check out the Fall Down Tree blog, you'll see some other great things. Like this book. And SasKwatch, which maybe if we start a letter writing campaign we can get Mr. Record to sell on Etsy because how cute is that furry man-beast?

*Many thanks to Adam Record for giving me his consent to post a few pictures of his artwork on this blog to help with the polling. It should be noted that once on istockphoto.com, I emailed an artist and requested a particular sketch. Now it is possible this gentlemen would have come up with the idea on his own eventually but... He drew the image I requested, I purchased it and used it on the blog when we did our post announcing to the world we were expecting, and he has since gone on to sell an additional 199 downloads of that image. I bring ye money, artists of the world.

Darn it, now I see that Monsier Record does custom work as well. Perhaps a new poll is in order...

A decision needs to be made

What would you pick for a little boy's room?
	Dinosaurs!
	Robots. It's gotta be robots.
	Animals, baby!
	Planes, trains, and automobiles.
pollcode.com free polls

Disclaimer: The author of this blog post reserves the right to skew the results in such a way that enables her to purchase the items she was leaning towards regardless of which option actually gathers the most votes. Also, please do not vote for planes, trains, and automobiles anymore.

овации! (Bulgarian word)

Cheers to you and you and me and you and ... from Christie Glynn on Vimeo.

Old Fashioned Days Parade

The truth of it is that I haven't been to a parade in years. Probably no real interest in parades is the reason, so I was a little surprised when I accepted an invite from my sister-in-law to join her, my brother, and their daughter, Amels, for Newberg's Old Fashioned Days parade this morning.

I couldn't have asked for a better parade experience. Even though we hadn't set up camp at dawn to secure good seating, we were still able to find a spot to watch the parade that was close to the beginning of the route and within easy walking distance back to the car. I had prepared myself for an early departure because I wasn't sure how long a slow-moving parade was going to keep Henry's attention. Those plans proved unnecessary. Let's forget for the moment the candy being thrown at us by nearly every float that went by, it was a never-ending stream of cars, fire trucks, and buses. One of the trucks was even blowing bubbles. Bubbles, I say! As far as Henry was concerned, the only that could have made it more interesting was if those floats were bouncing on gigantic balls. We watched the entire parade, from the first VFW car to the last car carrying the Lord and Lady of Astor House. Henry preferred to sit on my lap, while Amels had a grand time tracking down all of the candy in the street.

Of course there were pictures...

Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer

A Zoo Story

Today I had the pleasure of showing my cousin Amels around the Oregon Zoo. It was her first time and she was very excited. We went by some kitties first 'cuz kitties are an easy way to be introduced to the animals at the zoo. We saw a leopard who was pacing back and forth. Mama said this made it very hard to take a good picture.And a tiger who was far away trying to take a nap in the shade. They don't let tigers get close to you like the leopards because tigers are very hungry all the time and might try to eat you. Amels and I didn't want to be lunch.Then it was on to the polar bears exhibit. I loves me some polar bears. They are very big and they roar and they swim.We figured out that we are closest in size to the sun bear, but not really because even small bears are very big next to two toddlers like me and Amels.Then it was on to see fishies and turtles. Fishies and turtles, I say!Primates were next on the list because Aunt Megan said cousin Amels really likes monkeys. Who doesn't? The orangutan was super cool and seemed to enjoy our company. And finally it was time for a snack on the lawn. We both ate each other's food because sometimes the only food that seems to taste good is the food your mom didn't bring.

The importance of being earnest

(10:54:24 AM) Darren: Furthermore, InnoDB does not recognize or support “inline REFERENCES specifications” (as defined in the SQL standard) where the references are defined as part of the column specification. InnoDB accepts REFERENCES clauses only when specified as part of a separate FOREIGN KEY specification. For other storage engines, MySQL Server parses and ignores foreign key specifications.

(10:54:53 AM) Plumpy: WHAT

(10:54:57 AM) Plumpy: Fuck.

(10:55:00 AM) Darren: yeah

(10:55:21 AM) Darren: MySQL is sure great they way it doesn't bother you with pesky things like an error if it can't do what you ask of it.

(10:55:40 AM) Plumpy: If it threw an error, people might realize how much there was that it couldn't do.

(10:55:45 AM) Plumpy: And that would make people sad.

(10:55:52 AM) Darren: I am sad

The good, the bad, and the ugly

The good:

1. This morning we had four of The Wagners Five, two from Casa de TiVo, and grandma Penny (a.k.a. Megan's mom) join us for brunch. It was an impromptu get-together suggested at the last moment but we still managed to have a fantastic offering - French toast, blueberry muffins, Entenmann's raspberry danish, fruit salad, chicken and maple sausages, scrambled eggs, orange juice, and chocolate milk. Good food and good conversation led us right into nap time. Every day should be brunch day.

2. Monsieur Henry said his name for the first time today and it sort of actually sounded like the French pronunciation. Hs are hard for little toddler mouths to form. Now I just need to get my butt to Paris so I can buy him a beret and call it good.

3. We're on day three of Operation Toddler Sleep and enjoying some small successes. Our new routine is as follows: Darr and I both go into Henry's room when it is bed time, where we stay for around 10 to 15 minutes before saying goodnight and reminding Henry now is the appropriate time for sleep. Instead of the heart-wrenching sobs from Henry as he stands near the baby gate when we leave, we now hear him puttering around his room until such time as he wants us back. We then go in and sit for an additional 5 to 10 minutes. When we leave this time, it's for good. And Henry seems to understand this or sense we mean business because he is getting better at accepting this cruel twist of fate, lying down, and going to sleep.

The bad:

I hit Babies R Us this afternoon to grab a few much-needed baby supplies. While there, I notice a bright red sale tag near the Mustela products that state if I spend more than $20 on their products (I was there to buy more of their baby wipes, they are the best!), I can get a free bottle of their Relaxing Bubble Bath, which I like and wouldn't mind getting for free. Because the shelf is empty, I take the effort to scan the sale sign closely to see if it has the "while supplies last" disclosure written on it. Since it doesn't, I figure I'll ask for a raincheck and grab the bottle during my next visit. When I inform the cashier about the sign, she says she needs to ask the manager (fine by me), and proceeds to call another woman over so they can chat about my request. I watch as this lady goes to the aisle with the Mustela products comes back and then explains to the cashier that it is only while supplies last. I know the sign doesn't say this because I made an extra effort to look for that very text on the sign myself. So now I'm annoyed. I pay for my items and then grab Henry and go back to the aisle. When I review the sign again, it's just as I thought - no line stating that you can only get the free stuff while supplies last. I pull the sign off the shelf and step over to the Customer Service area where the cashier that helped me, the woman she spoke to, and a third woman are talking. I hold up the sign and advise them there is no such statement on the sale sign. They review the sign and agree I am right. Then one of them pulls out some ad from some paper and shows me that it says "while supplies last". But wait, I didn't get that newspaper, I don't have that ad, I wasn't trying to use any coupon. What I did see, was the sign on the rack near the product. And what that sign did not say was "while supplies last". They still refuse to honor it. So I ask to return all of my purchases, which I then proceed to do. To her credit, the woman working at the Customer Service station does ask if I would require the assistance of a manager, but I shouldn't have to go to bat for a free bottle of bubble bath. The end of all this, I will now buy my baby supplies from amazon.com.

The ugly:

I'd just like to point out that the zit I did not pop is still residing under my nose. Be gone, zit!

Sippin' on milk and juice

Thanks to Slate's Chip Brantley and his very scientific experiment using 22 parents, their kids, and many, many sippy cups, we now have an answer to the age-old question, which sippy cup is best? Nalgene's Grip-n-Gulp bottle wins the prize for best cup, scoring a mind-blowing 50. That's a perfect score, folks. To satisfy those parents worried about leaching BPA - I am one of 'em - only BPA-free cups were tested. So, go forth and buy sippy cups, people.

When toddlers learn to sing

Singing in the car! from Christie Glynn on Vimeo.

Month Twenty-one

Dear Henry,

Please understand that since you came into this world there have been countless days that have come and gone without me having any understanding of the actual date attached to them. Calendars mean very little to your stay-at-home mom because every day is spent doing little more than taking care of your every desire. This is why I find myself writing the newsletter in the evening as the clock tick tocks down to midnight. Thanks, by the way, for getting to bed at a reasonable hour this evening. If you hadn't, I wouldn't be writing. And then I'd be that mom. The one who is officially late recognizing, nay celebrating, her son's twenty-first month day. Bean, that is not the inscription I want on the old tombstone, although your dad did show me a funny one earlier this evening. It read, "I told you I was sick." Feel free to use that on me when the day comes, but don't worry 'bout that now because I plan on staying around for a long, long time. Possibly long enough to see my great-grandkids. I'm not over here racking up this child rearing wisdom for myself.You have been busy. Growing, running, dancing, jumping, running, running, laughing, talking, singing, running, and, oh yeah, did I mention running? We are taking full advantage of the summer weather and all of the parks in the Portland metro area. This has me a bit concerned about winter, though. What are we going to do to help you expend that energy when we can't set you free at the park to run and run and run? I suppose that is something for the daycare folks to worry about, eh? Which brings us to another unpleasant thought. We have just one more month before I return to school. As frustrated as I can sometimes get after spending so much time with you, my heart still aches just a little to know that next month I'm going to be spending the majority of the day away from you. I can only hope that doing so will make me a better mom, and that this sacrifice will pay off later, conveniently after your long-term memory kicks in. It's best you forget what will surely initially feel like abandonment.The biggest change this past month, of course, was the transition from crib to toddler bed. What I read after-the-fact is that stuff like letting your little one (that'd be you, bean) pick out the bedding and placing the bed in the same place as the crib (in hindsight this seems very smart) lessens the trauma of the change. In fairness, I did read the latter in time for your pops and me to change the location of the bed before nighttime. First of all, thanks for being smart enough to figure out you could get out of the bed. I had heard some kids would stay in the bed merely because they didn't realize they could leave it. Not you. Your curiousity is going to drive you to discover, and that is awesome. You were involved with the project the second we all gathered in your room with the dismantled bed in pieces on the floor. I'm not sure you even noticed the disappearance of the crib. Once assembled, you fearlessly jumped on, lying your head on the mattress and semi-curling up like you do when you sleep. So we covered you up with a blanket and took pictures. It isn't often you're still long enough for us to capture you without some body part in motion, and hence blurry. And later, when we put you to bed, we were just settling down on the couch in the living room and your father was in the process of predicting you'd last five minutes when you came bolting around the corner to join us. What a sense of freedom you must have felt. What other choice did we have, son? We took you back and tucked you in, repeating this process for hours before a lightbulb went off and I remembered we had a baby gate, and that baby gates, by their very nature, are designed for exactly this type of situation when you want to keep a baby from getting from one place (e.g., your room) to another (e.g., anywhere other than your room). Problem solved.It's strange because as you become more independent, you also have bouts of clinginess. Whenever we are in a new space or there are a lot of people around, you want to be held until such time as you feel comfortable. Only then will you allow yourself to be lowered to the ground. Once your feet hit the ground, it's usually a few more minutes before you loosen your grip on my pants and strike out. Juxtapose this part of your personality with your Walmart-greeter self, who has a wave and a 'hi' for every stranger in the mall or at the store regardless of where I am. I'm curious to see how you'd make out in Manhattan where I hear folks are very 'don't make eye contact and for God's sake don't say anything' to other people they pass on the street. Would they acknowledge you as the cute toddler you are or just ignore you? We've got spare time if you're up for a little experiment in walking the streets of New York. (It should be noted this is not the same as being a street walker in New York. Ask me later for a more thorough explanation.)Sadly, we had to say goodbye to Miss E.B., the first person you met in the entire world, other than hospital staff and your parents. Erin Beatrix moved with her parents to California so her mom could do wondrous things for cancer research. Given that you don't have long-term memory, I'm guessing you won't remember much of this but I'm determined to keep you two in touch. If you're the adorable sensitive nerdy kid I expect you'll one day be, it'd be handy to have a gorgeously brilliant red-headed out-of-state friend we can call upon when you need a prom date.Today, you sang your first song. ("Lady of Spain" from the Amazing Marvin Suggs and his Muppaphone on The Muppet Show: Music, Mayhem, and More 25th Anniversary Collection cd.) It was the most unexpected and cute thing I encountered during the last 30 days. You really enjoyed yourself, which is fantastic because when you aren't enjoying yourself you let me know it by fussing, and fussing toddlers cause mothers to become unpleasant. Don't want an unresponsive and pissy mother, stop being a fuss 'n boots. Consider this your take-home tip for the month.
No matter what your pops or I go on to do or become, you will forever be our greatest achievement. We love you, bean.

Love,
Mom

Busy, busy, busy

Since the fourth we have gone to several parks with friends, out picking blueberries twice, a PhD celebration and farewell picnic, a hike at Tryon Creek, to play in the fountain downtown, a baby shower, yet another visit to OMSI, and a concert in the park. Now, we're hanging out in the 'berg, housesitting for Brother Nick and Megan, who are at the beach celebrating their fourth anniversary. You might think that all of these activities would mean Monsieur Henry hit the sack every evening exhausted, slipping gently into sleep. And you'd be about half right. He's exhausted but that little booger is resisting sleep with every ounce of strength in his tiny 21 pound body.

I have been remiss

Because while we were down here (rightfully) celebrating our one brilliant friend, another genius friend in Seattle was getting her PhD as well. So we'd like to send our congrats up north to our friend formerly known as Anya, who from this day forward shall be called Dr. Anya (but not in a Dr. Laura kind of way).

Becoming Dr. A

Dude, it's viral now. Ms. A completed her thesis defense today and henceforth is to be referred to as Dr. A. Many thanks to Ms. A over at The Wagners Five for watching Monsieur Henry for a few hours so I could attend the first one-hour talk. Ashleigh appeared calm and confident when we all entered the lecture hall and she fielded the questions from the audience at the end with aplomb. What an amazing accomplishment, Doc. We're all so very proud.

Numbers are fun

Patience is waiting until you hear the number 10 from Christie Glynn on Vimeo.

An Independence Day Story

My mum and I headed over to Uncle Nick and Aunt Megan's house for a Fourth of July barbecue. Cousin Amels has a pool. The water was real warm but I was a bit hesitant at first to go in because Cousin Amels can splash with the best of 'em.
See what I mean. She's got mad splishing skills.
So I took off to play on her playground. While there I invented the 'spread your legs to stop from hitting the hot pea gravel' method of exiting the slide. As a bonus, this method also kept the wee rocks from going up my new fish swimming trunks. You don't want hot rocks around your twig and berries, America.
When I finally did get in the pool, I was by myself and there was very little splashing. I like calm waters, what can I say?
My mum was busy capturing pics of the day but she wasn't too careful and one time Cousin Amels almost got her mitts on the camera. Here's how that looked.
After our parents pulled the picnic table into the shade, we sat down to eat, Cousin Amels and me. That barbecued hot dog was mighty tasty. I didn't even mind it when Cousin Amels snuck a chip off my plate.
I was too busy eating the cheese anyway. Cheese is good.

Senior thesis discovered

Backups are cool because you can stumble across your senior thesis years later, read it, cringe and feel the appropriate level of embarrassment, and then post a bit of it on your blog for the entire Internet-using world to read.

"...Victor Frankenstein essentially breaks the “beneficial bond between the natural and the human world” when he removes women from the natural method of procreation and creates a monster that supercedes man. Shelley invites the reader to watch as Victor’s experiment goes awry. It is not Victor’s wish to create something better than himself, but something equal to himself. This is so the established hierarchy of man over animal can remain in place. Mary Shelley, on the other hand, wishes to destroy the hierarchy, to place man on equal footing with woman and animal. In Frankenstein, Mary Shelley supports scientific progress that challenges hierarchical human dominance through the creation of a man-animal hybrid that is superior to man. ..."

Yippee! A new laptop!

So, Darr's company gave the employees MacBooks at the beginning of this year. I can't remember now if this was in lieu of a bonus or if this was considered the bonus - either way, it's cool, right? - but mine starting having this weird issue. When I set it down on it's side, which I often did while it was plugged in so as not to tweak the power cable, the laptop would open. The magnets weren't keeping it shut. Last week I took it to the Apple store because of another problem I had burning dvd backups of my photos. Anyway, long story long, Apple-employee Colin called to tell me that after replacing the magnets in the lid and then replacing the innards of the machine along with the magnets on that side, he was unsuccessful in getting the laptop to remain shut. Then, he escalated the issue to the engineers of the machine. They recommended he replace my machine. So, he is. Only they don't make that particular machine anymore. The aluminum shell is no longer available in the MacBook. But it is available in the MacBook Pro. So, he's upgrading me to a MacBook Pro. I get to pick it up today, if I can find time to travel out to the store to pick it up. Sweet.