I finally packed up and moved my blog!  Here it is: http://32entropylane.blogspot.com/

Look at this. It’s my delicious baby niece, Claire Joan. Can you even stand it? She’s like the most perfect dollop of fresh whipped cream.

Just looking at this picture, my heart swells. She is so beautiful.

I will try to keep the image of a peaceful, sleeping baby in my head as we dye Easter eggs this afternoon. I’m dreading it. It’s not that I’m anti-craft. I can get crafty, MFers. It’s just that I hate chaos. And egg dye + Finn + Hadley = CHAOS. We’ll see though. I’ll try not to be too much of a buzz kill.

How beautiful are these shots of Paris? So lovely. Le Sigh... They make me want to transport myself. So beautiful...

You know what's funny about Paris is I love it so much I don't know if I ever want to see it again. I guess that's more quirky than funny. I want to remember it the way it was when I was 21 and lived there, going to school during college. I want it to stay the same way it is in my head. I do that with books, movies, and artwork that has moved me as well. I don't want my initial reaction to be erased and fear that perhaps it will be if I see it again and am disappointed.

But who am I kidding? I will go to Paris again. I mean, I'm not an idiot.

The delightful EKJ and I went to Tattered Cover bookstore last night to see Dooce read from her new book, It Sucked and then I Cried. (hello fantastic title)  We decided up front that we weren't going to wait in any lines.  And I'm a grown ass lady and don't wait in lines. Ever. I don't have that freak out celebrity thing either so the idea of waiting in line to see a celebrity is preposterous. She's just a person for crying out loud. (Specifically, I'm thinking of those poor SOBS who wait 14 hours, in the rain, in those bleachers at the Oscars to see Nicole Kidman or whoever quickly scoot by. Really? You feel better after that? Is your life enriched? Yes? Oh well then, to each their own.)

We grabbed drinks and a delightful dinner and had almost decided that it would probably be a mob scene and to go see a movie instead but then thought...ah what the hell?

We arrived at 6:30pm just to see...and I'm glad we did. It started at 7:30 and there lots of people there already. We were given numbers, for the book signing, as well as a myriad of crazy ass rules. I got #80. We settled in and waited for Heather Armstrong to take the mic. Despite the ENORMOUS man head two rows in front of me, I could see her pretty well. She was humbled by the cheering crowd and blushed, which I found terribly endearing. She's much more Southern than E and I thought she would be. Her husband, Jon, was there scampering about taking pictures and she spoke of him frequently, catching his eye and smiling. He waved his shoes at one point because she told everyone she wouldn't let him wear his Crocs.

She read a passage from the book and then a post from the blog. She answered a bunch of questions and was charming, candid and funny. I love how she doesn't take herself too seriously. One intense girl in the crowd asked her what favorite post was. I loved that the one she chose was the one about her cousin George passing out on the toilet trying to poop. For some reason I'm glad it wasn't some trite, sappy answer about the love of a mother or something.

After the Q&A, the line up book signing garbage began, and E and I looked at each other with the same "let's go" face. I gave my number to the woman next to me who had #127. I felt like I did a good deed and she almost peed in her pants when I gave it to her. I dubbed her 'the superfan' in my head while Heather was speaking because she would talk out loud relatively softly as if just she and Heather were having a conversation. Creepy and annoying, sure, but last night I was just soaking up the fact that this blogger woman has touched so many people with her writings and inspired them or made them happy or saved them in some way. And that was very cool.  I also noticed when I stood up that there were AN ASSLOAD of people there.

And bless her heart for going on a book tour at 7 months pregnant. Sweet mother of God.

Go check out this website. ELK sent it to me and once I started looking, I couldn't stop. Cut to an hour later and I'm still looking at it. So creative.

Except their perspective is different now because the bangs are gone. (this pic is from October) Begone bangs! After discussing with the panel, everyone has assured me that the bang vote will get vetoed next time I propose it. That's a relief.  Everyone should have a panel, by the way. I cannot emphasize this enough.

Note to self for future interactions with children: try not to look so stank and don't talk through your teeth.

That is all.

I am sick today. Sick sick. Not lupus sick. But being sick sick kicks in the lupus sick. Does that even make sense? I'm drinking tea and ignoring my children. So, it's kind of like most days, except there is more tea drinking involved. Just kidding. Sort of. Hadley  had strep last week and politely passed on something to me and Finn. Ugh.

They want to go sledding. Um, think again. I'm thinking about making brownies. Speaking of brownies, have you seen this recipe? It's good. It needs some tweaking for sure, like shoving a few Dove darks into the batter before I cook it, but it's good. It took everything I had not to get out of bed at 10pm and make it.

Ok, so, Hi, I'm back from the dead.

Two nights of good sleep and I'm a new person. Seriously. My pain was minimal yesterday. Well, I'm smiling typing that, because "minimal" to me would be terribly alarming to a healthy person. The point is I am out of the foggy tunnel of pain and exhaustion. For today at least. It's good to be back.

The death of Natasha Richardson is so so sad and freak. She was the epitome of lovely and graceful.

Hadley is home sick today and I keep having to remind her she's sick. (Sore throat, heinous cough and fever) I'm tempted not to give Motrin because it makes her feel SO good. She is currently trying to talk me into letting her build a fort outside. (It's beautiful, sunny and 65ish)

We recently acquired a Wii (Big ups to BW!) and borrowed the Wii Fit from my bro to see if we like it. Um, we're total fanatics. Everyone's always constantly wanting to work out on it. I love working out when I don't know I'm working out. I have to be sort of tricked into it. And Peter's really competitive so that has him going on the thing all the time too.

I'm slowly working on Peter's diet as well. I've been eating really healthily for a while now and have recently cut out meat. I'm not going to throw blood on your fur coat or freak out if you're wearing leather. It was more about personal taste and how my body reacts to food.  It does make dinner difficult though.

He HAS eliminated Mountain Dew. (Thank you baby Jesus. I would look both ways before I put a flat of that crap in my cart for fear someone would see me. Oy.) Now I just have to convince him to stop eating frozen meals that consist of macaroni and cheese and Salisbury steak for lunch. (He works from home and needs quick and easy) Also on the agenda is the lesson that there are other, healthier "soups" on the market besides this one:

It's like a heart attack in a can.

This just in:

Exciting, encouraging news.

Peter just sat down next to me for lunch. Here's what he's having: a normal size piece of quiche, a lovely spinach salad loaded with veggies and water.

Hells yeah.

Newsflash.

Every year without fail people ask me if I'm going to eat Corned Beef and Cabbage on St. Patrick's Day. The answer is no. Probably not and certainly not because it's St. Patrick's Day.

I remember learning years ago that the Irish don't really eat Corned Beef and Cabbage. They find the fact that everyone thinks they do amusing. They also don't freak out on St. Patrick's Day for those of you thinking you'll make a trek to the motherland to don your leprechaun ears and guzzle green beer. Many many pints are lifted on the day but when aren't they?

Here's a little history about it and an amusing poem. Spread the word.

Still here people, just not feeling well and stress, pain and anxiety laden posts are not fun to read.

I sort of purposely ran out of sleeping pills and thought "I'll just stop taking them."

Why do people do this? Well, I know why I do it. I take SO many pills every day for lupus that every once in a while I'll talk myself into thinking that I can stop taking one. So I don't have to be dependent upon anything. So, perhaps one day, I'll be 'normal' and won't have to take anything.

I know it doesn't sound logical but for a moment, to me, it does.

The sleeping one was not a good one to just "stop taking".

I'm miserable. I haven't been feeling well anyway but no sleep makes me ache EVERYWHERE. Clothes hurt my skin. I swore the other day when the kids were talking loudly, my body ached, just from their voices.

I have solved this problem with a call to the rheumatologist for a prescription and will hopefully sleep like a baby tonight.

In the meantime, I wish you all a lovely St. Patrick's Day. I will be thinking of my Dad, a true Irish gentleman. Slainte, RMP.

My life is heavy lately. Heavy heavy heavy. Like if there were a bell boy, I would ask him to carry my life for a spell. I tip well, too.

After I take the weight of the world off my shoulders for a while and put it on the ground next to me, I am determined to seek out the funny and light every day. I would like to thank C's husband, Mr. M for kicking off this experiment by changing his facebook status to "I am sore from being so awesome."

I laughed out loud and then kept saying it.

I'm also going to try a book club again. "TRY". My sister is in a book club and her friends are lovely and deep and intellectual. My brain is shrinking or something and I need to do something about it. Plus, I just saw some of them at Meg's baby shower and remembered how much I loooove these girls (hi melanie!) so it'll be fun to rub elbows with them while yapping intelligently (or not) about a book.

Also on the list of things to do are: going to yoga again regularly and doing something nice and selfless for my husband every day.

After we moved, I tried to find a new yoga studio and couldn't. (It's harder than you think, people) So I just sort of gave up. My body and mind are suffering. I practice at home but it's not the same.

And as far as doing something nice and selfless for Peter every day. That's simple. I'm sort of a self-involved anxiety ridden a-hole lately. Must change that.

My baby girl is turning 7 on Wednesday. Wait, I have a 7 year old?!?!?

Hadley has been saying for a while now that she wanted her hair reeeeeeaaalllly SHORT. I waited to see if the feeling would pass.

It didn't.

So, before the next haircut, we searched online. She saw this picture and said "THAT'S IT!!"

We went to the salon and she grinned the entire time as her strawberry blonde hair got shorter and shorter and as other moms looked on, clearly horrified that I would allow someone to chop my daughter's hair off. I was so proud of her confidence and bravery. She never wavered. She just kept saying "I LOVE IT!"

I said "You're not worried kids will say you have a boy's haircut?"

She said "But I'm not a boy."

Ok.

Et Voila.

Sure enough, there have been comments from other kids, because kids suck and can be mean. Luckily, the adoration level at home is high enough to buoy her in the high tides of ridiculousness at school. Plus, I don't think she cares that much.

I love it. In these pics, it's still freshly done. I'll take another pic of her when she comes home from school and the gel and neatness is gone. It's a little bit more "boy in a skirt" but she will always be my beautiful rare bird.

Finn has been spending time at home with me as I search for a better preschool. I pulled him out of his preschool. I refuse to send my child to a place that doesn't make him feel like the best Finn he can be. Must find a place that appreciates all that my darling has to offer. It's frustrating to feel like you have the only kid who runs at 100mph all the time. I'm so used to full speed ahead that a "normal" kid seems delayed to me. Skewed perception I know. Anyway, my research continues.

I constantly try to treasure these moments with my sweet boy, as I know they will soon be gone. I'm trying to keep him busy, interested, and having fun while keeping myself from going insane. It's going. I signed him up for karate and I smiled to myself at his first lesson. Um, those karate instructors don't take shit from 4 year old boys. Love it.

He's also developed a close and personal relationship with a bubble gun we bought a few days ago. It's 65 here and sunny all week so we've been rolling like it's summer.

I've been feel awful lately, which makes being patient and fun and energetic EXTREMELY difficult. I'm dragging and achy. My skin hurts. Blech. All I can do is try. Luckily, he's been loving being read to so we've been doing a lot of that in Mama's fabulous bed. There's nothing like your parent's bed. I still remember the feeling of my parent's bed when I was little. Everything was softer, warmer, smelled sweeter, and I was instantly calmed and felt safe. To this day, I love to lay on their bed.

Shoutout to Bijou Pellegrino, who is sorely missed around here. She is my sister's adored poodle. We watched her while the Pellegrinos frolicked in Mexico last week. She is the perfect combination of Don Knotts, Big Bird and an Anteater. She finds and shreds underwear, barks a lot and is neurotic but we love her. I miss having her around. We never called her Bijou. We kept calling her "the poodle" as in "Where's the poodle?" "Did we feed the poodle?" "Hadley, you have to take out your poodle."

We had a few photo shoots. None were action shots as this is what she does mostly. Tis a tough life for a poodle.