Dinner With Cheetah

You want to know what's disgusting?
I'll tell you.
Licking your fingers, thinking it's mozzarella cheese and finding out it's banana.
(Even if I liked banana, which I don't, it's quite a shock.)

This is me and it totally ruined my pizza experience.

i Know It Ends In Y

I swear my brains fell out when Cheetah was born.
I can't remember anything to save my life anymore. I never know what day of the week it is. (I forgot it was my birthday last month. That has *never* happened before.)
I nearly forgot our anniversary.
I forgot NaBloPoMo.
It's bugging me to because I used to be the one who knew all that little stuff - Tarzan doesn't remember the little things - and now we're in trouble because neither of us knows what's what.

This is me hoping its not forever.

Career Option

I wonder where they find the people who make up - and then research - or is it the reverse? - the random statistics for college football?
Real statistic on the screen: 5-0 when leading at the end of the first quarter.
I could do that.
How many times have they won while in [insert stadium name] in November?
Or how many touchdowns thrown with left hands?
Or how many injuries in the fourth quarter?
Or how many times have they won when coming from behind in the third quarter?
Oooh! Oooh! How many times have they won when the kicker was wearing blue boxers?

This is me making stuff up.

3 Generations

Tarzan's father was in town on business this weekend and, despite it being record breakingly hot, we were glad to have him stay with us.
Partly because he got to see Tarzan 'bishop-ing' and partly because we got to take this picture at church:

Three generations of O'Grady men.
(Poor Cheetah. It's practically guaranteed he'll wear glasses.)
Cheetah was right on the edge of being too tired to be pleasant so a slide show of the pictures taken is quite amusing as he goes from blasé to briefly smiling to irritated to grouchy to all out screaming:

This is me and I hope it's okay to be amused by such things.

Sizing

So many cute clothes that fit right now! but are thermal or fleece lined or have jackets and things that are really too hot in 90+ degree heat.

This is me and what's a mother to do?

Story Time

Both Tarzan and I love to read and we want to pass that love along to Cheetah.
Some days he looks like he's picking it up:

And other days he'd rather play with something else:

 

I love the expression on Cheetah's face as Tarzan reads to him in this picture though:

It's such an expressive face that I open this up to you, the people with the senses of humor, to caption it for me.
To that end, I promise to send a dozen of my best cookies (your choice) to the person who submits the funniest caption for this face.
(Tarzan will be the judge.) And then I'll post it.

This is me with a second contest.

Local Specialty

It didn't seem weird at first glance:

And then I looked again:

I think they thought it rhymed, but did no one proof this thing? Ever?
I wonder if there's a closet business in this somewhere...

This is me and I don't think I want one.

Giggle Giggle Snort

I know this is not what you were hoping I'd post but it made me laugh out loud like I haven't in a while, generally because the baby is sleeping and I am hoping it lasts for more than 40 minutes:

This is me and sometimes Facebook is worth the (free) membership.

Frustration

It's not a new thought and it's not original to me, but I wish babies came with a digital readout, or colored buttons, or a mood ring at least, to let us know where they were emotionally.
It's fairly easy to manage physical stuff; food and clothing and a bed, pain or temperature, but are they happy here with us?
Cheetah gets this look on his face sometimes - maybe it's not indicative of his emotions, maybe babies don't have them yet? - and he looks so pitiful and forlorn, like maybe he needs something he isn't getting.
Maybe he doesn't even know he isn't getting it (whatever 'it' is) but it makes me paranoid.
I recall the LDS urban legend about the young child who climbs into the crib with his newborn sibling and asks "tell me about heaven, I'm starting to forget," which of course makes me all teary (see my previously mentioned soggy state of affairs) and I wonder.
Is Cheetah sad that he's here? Is he getting enough love and snuggles?
Does he remember heaven? Is he starting to forget? Does that make him sad?
Does he wish he picked a different family? What could I be doing better?
And I regret putting him down (on a blanket where he worked on his gross motor skills very diligently with no complaints) so I could go to the bathroom and unload the dishwasher this morning.

This is me, wondering whether he's regretting coming here.
(Good golly I'm getting maudlin in my old age.)

Headache

Question: those of you who have nursed, bottle-fed or otherwise nourished your children when they were infants - bonus if you also wear corrective lenses - did you get a blinding headache between your eyes when feeding your child and/or a tension ache across your back, between your shoulder blades?
If so, what did you do to alleviate it?
If not, do you have any suggestions?
On the plus side, I pooped for the first time since Cheeta was born, so I assume I'm going to live. 

This is me and my forehead hurts a little.

Cheeta Headshot

Because today was the first full day at home there was much to figure out and then Nana and Auntie Haro came to stay for a while, mommy did not get to compose the full on post she wanted.
However, since she now has images like this laying around:

Who needs words?

This is me and I sure don't.

Annual Losing Of The Baseball Game

It never fails.
For 30 years, members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in our area of the world have gone as a group to the local professional baseball stadium to watch a game, hang out, see some fireworks and some friends, eat some hot dogs and enjoy the summer night:

 

The local professional team, no matter how they have been doing, (including the year they would go on to win the World Series) never wins the night we go. At least in the 12 years Tarzan and I have been going they haven't ever won.
Makes a girl suspicious.
We did catch up with some old friends, and made some new ones. Including this one who hung on to Tarzan for a very long time:

Like 1/2 hour long which is a big deal for an insect. Had time for 3 people to notice and tell us there was a bee on his shirt.
We also were allowed onto the field itself, for the fireworks following the game:

And that was a novelty as I had never been on a professional baseball field before. Grass was shorter and tougher than I expected. No wonder a single slide into plate causes huge stains up the side of a uniform.
It was fun and a tradition that we enjoy. I can only imagine how much more fun it would be if we won a game once in a while.

This is me and it's a conspiracy.

Aestethics

It seriously affects my sense of aesthetics that the dark pink half of my two part prenatal vitamins, with DHA & folic acid, are in the light pink container and the light pink pills are in the dark pink container:

This is me and first world problems.

By The Power Of Cuteness

Completely random stuff off the FB:

I don't know who thinks of these things, but I am glad that someone has the time to post ridiculously cute things on the Internet for me to find at odd moments.

This is me and it does not take a lot to amuse me these days.

Just Keep Walking

One of my 2014 New Year's resolutions was to drink more water. Try and get the 8-8oz. glasses a day we are supposed to.
It hasn't been too hard to drink that much - once I started carrying refillable bottles with me - but I have had a challenge keeping track of how many time I refill the bottle.
So I got an app.
Argus was free, it had the highest rating and it seemed easy enough to use. In addition to keeping track of my drinking, it also counts my steps in a day and so I started watching and taking a few extra trips up and down the stairs just for kicks and to get to my self-imposed goal of 8,000 steps a day.
I was all proud of myself until I noticed that it clocked the distance from where I plug my phone in, in the bathroom, to the bed, as 45 steps.
(It's a small house, I could probably walk the entire length of the thing in 20 steps give or take.)

This is me and 45 ant steps maybe.

Always The Same Trouble

One morning, two weeks before Christmas, I woke up, got dressed and after brushing my hair out, this is what I had going on in the bangs area:

I tried with the fine toothed comb:

And it sprang right back:

I had needed one for a while but I decided it was time for a hair cut.
That same day.
I went to a place that allowed walk-ins, wasn't too expensive - it was a cosmetology school actually - and explained my dilemma. I have pictures from the last time I was happy with my hair, which was when PhatFiddle got married - he has two kids now - and try to get hair stylists to copy it. I have tried this the last four times I got my hair done.
This time, I came out with something a little different than what I asked for:

But I really like it.
A lot.
The trouble is, I can't recreate it on my own. I ignore the back and let it dry as it will. I don't have time every day to blow dry my whole head and doing the back is annoying anyway and I don't care if it's a little less straight.
My bangs, however, I take more time with. I don't let them air dry, or pin them down, I use a styling serum, I blow them straight out and then up, for volume, and then over in a wave. I do it everyday and they won't go the way they are supposed to.
Anyone? Thoughts?

This is me and I can't get it right at home.

So Close

My arms are short.
I don't know if they're short disproportionally or just short because I am. Short that is.
But because of my stature, and because I drive a convertible which has long doors, and because the seats are low, when I have to take a ticket from a parking kiosk I need to drive my car very close and sometimes I still have to lean way out the window to snag one. Many times I have to put my car in park and open the door, which involves taking off my seatbelt, to reach the ticket slot. And referring to the sentence above about having large doors on my car, that can have it's own challenges with clearance on posts and things.
So it was with great delight that I managed to get close enough to the kiosk yesterday, to not only push the red button, but also to grab the ticket when it clicked out of the machine.
And then I almost cried when it tumbled out of my fingers and fluttered softly to the ground.
Wherein I had to put the car in park, take off my seatbelt, open the door, try not to smash the door against the offending kiosk, and pat around on the ground for the ticket. While people honked at me from behind.

This is me lucky it did not go under the car.

Just Smile And Nod

There are some fantastic commentaries on the our society coming out right now:

This is me and just be pleasant and nice to others. That's all.

Makes Sense

Best logic I have heard in a while:

1. Chocolate comes from cocoa, which is a tree
2. That makes it a plant
3. Chocolate is salad.

This is me liking where his mind is at.

Not For Young Readers

Warning: Please be advised, the following contains material with adult themes. You probably shouldn't let the children read it.

Are we alone now?
...
Sure?
...
Okay good.
...
So, one of my jobs; being a personal assistant. And that means I do a lot of random things; file bills, laminate photos, highlight instructions, walk the dog, pull weeds, fetch the mail, chop vegetables for dinner, etc.
But.
Perhaps the weirdest/oddest/strangest/most bizarre thing I have ever had to do was order a vibrator for a 79 year old woman.
Yes, yes I did.
If it helps at all, I don't think she knows what it is that she asked for. In the catalog it was labeled as "intimate massager." It was circled on a page with other, more innocuous massagers.
What does not help is that when it arrived she instructed me to figure out how to charge it and how to turn it on.
And even after all that, I still don't think she knows what it is she asked for.
But I do and I will never be able to get that out of my mind.

This is me and the things that I do at work...