Really?!

Seriously, do people really think we don't know what we're getting into? I told a distant relative this weekend that we are adopting from China, and she launched into a 10 minute lecture about a friend who adopted and how the process took forever and she had to go to China to pick up the child and how overwhelming it all was. Blah blah blah. I smiled and nodded. Did she not think, for one second, about who she was talking to? We're the ones who put the freaking dossier together, who are waiting impatiently, and are obsessively tracking the price of plane tickets for the "overwhelming" (her words) trip to China. So thanks for the insight. Maybe next time a simple "congratulations" would be more appropriate. H

Naked puppies!

This is why we call her Griz: And then HAIRCUTS!!! Yeah, so they look like skinned muskrats. But cute skinned muskrats!!!! No more dreadlocks at least... I know, bad doggy mommy, bad doggy mommy. OK, so I promise to get Lillie Kat better haircuts. In fact, I've already lined up my oh-so-chic stylist Mark for the honors of styling LK. Yes, she will be "styled." not.one.word.

Round Two...

It's been a rough weekend. On Friday, we flew to Massachusetts for my grandfather's memorial service (which was so very heartwrenchingly beautiful, I can't really describe it or even talk about it). When we landed, we found out that his dear sister, my great-aunt and surrogate grandmother, passed away at 11:30 that morning. Sigh. If Grandpa was the patriarch of our family, my great-aunt was the much-loved matriarch. She loved us all as children and grandchildren, filling the void when Grandpa's wife and my grandmother died of cancer long before I was born. Grandpa and my great-aunt lived out the last days of their lives together, just a fews doors apart at the facililty where they both ended up. They were truly best friends and companions... gleefully greeting each other several times a day (having forgotten they'd just seen each other). As dementia claimed both of them, they still recognized each other and delighted in each other's company. My great-aunt's health was fine before Grandpa died. I hated the thought of her left behind, alone and confused and looking for her brother. Now she has found him and while my heart aches for my own loss, I am so very grateful for their peace.

LIllie-Kat's Nursery Pix

Number crunching

I am not a numbers person. Not.at.all. Escaped the math requirements as quickly as I could in school. Ironic, because my life is now literally run by numbers. My day at work is counted in six-minute increments. The food that goes in my mouth is counted by each little carb. My time on the treadmill is counted by tenths of miles (always trying to get one more in...) And, of course, the most obvious - my "pregnancy" is measured by days and months that stretch out in front of me. I can control how six-minute increments get billed in a day, and how many carbs go in my mouth, and how many miles pass under my feet, but I can't control how many days and months will go by until we get our daughter. Did I mention I hate numbers?

Ok, so I registered for this very practical diaper bag (in pink and green, duh!): But what I really, really want is this ridiculously expensive Saks exclusive: Is that so bad?