An open letter to Miguel Rivas.

Dear Miguel,

To my knowledge, we've never met, although I've come to feel as though I know you.

After all, I've had conversations with so many of your acquaintances. I know many of them are probably just your bill collectors who think I'm lying when I say I don't know you—they must think I'm your overprotective girlfriend or something—but still. I've even had (very confused on my end) text conversations with some of your buddies. (By the way, what WAS so awesome about that one time you and your buddies went to Midvale? I've gotten texts about that one at least four times. "Hey man remember MIDVALE? 4REAL!" If you could fill me in on that, that would be great. I like feeling included. Also, I was unaware that there was anything that exciting going on in Midvale, and my curiosity is piqued.) And the number of Spanish calls telling me that I—sorry, I mean YOU—may already have won $10,000 has really increased my level of cultural awareness and the amount of randomness in my life. So thank you, Miguel, for that.

But Miguel, I am disappointed in you. I know it's hard to hear, but a true friend tells you stuff like that.

Seriously (and I'm just basing this off the number of times she's called and the length of time that I've had this cell phone number), you need to call your grandmother more often. We're talking four years and she still thinks you're at my number.

Shame on you, Miguel. Shame on you.

Now go and call your abuela, stat.

Regards,

Your cell number successor (that would be me)


P.S. Oh, and pay your Comcast bill. They're getting a bit testy.

Holy awesome contest, Batman!

Okay. I don't usually do this but I WANT TO WIN THIS CONTEST SO BADLY IT HURTS. So go check out this amazing contest from The Undercover Book Lover for ARCs of five really awesome upcoming books. And gum. There is also gum involved. Really, how can you lose? (Other than by, you know, not winning.) So go check it out. (But don't enter, because that might diminish my chances of winning. You know, statistically speaking.)

Annnnd... back to bar study.

Frustration; or, the Story Port-a-Potty.

So I have a REALLY GOOD story of something that happened today. As in, the story is really good. Not necessarily the what-happened part. Because that wasn't so great. But the story itself is one that would be great for blogging about.

And I really want to tell this story. Because, as I said, it's a really good story.

Tangent (not at all related to what happened today): I had an acquaintance a while back who pretty much hated me but loved drama and sharing juicy stories. One day I was the only person around when this acquaintance had a particularly juicy story and NEEDED to share it with someone like I need to run to the bathroom when Jr. starts playing kick the bladder. So Acquaintance shared the story with me and later told a mutual friend that we had really bonded that day. From that point on, there was no hatred Scritchy-ward from this person, because I essentially had pointed Acquaintance to a story Port-a-Potty at the necessary moment.

And yes, that metaphor was a weird one, but hey, it WORKS.

Because (and here's where the tangent comes back to the point)—

THIS IS A PORT-A-POTTY SITUATION.*

For various reasons, I can't really share this story on the internet at this time.

Even though I really, really want to.

I can't even give you the super-awesome tag line that would be the facebook version of this story.

This is probably about as frustrating to me as it is to you. Seriously, great story + not being able to tell it on my blog = ARRRGH.

However . . .

This is totally a story I can share in person.

You know, in case anyone wanted to hear it.

Or happened to ask me next time they see me.

Just sayin'.

(For all you lurkers or people who unfortunately have not had the privilege of meeting me in real life yet, I'm very sorry. All I can say is, I'll post it when I can. I just don't know when that may be.)


*Please note: the actual story has NOTHING to do with port-a-potties whatsoever.

The 'phew says hello.

I admit, this is another baby post, but only incidentally.

See, I basically have the best nephews in the world (sorry, anyone with nephews, but mine are cooler). I have a pretty awesome niece, too, but tonight we're going to focus on my oldest nephew. Let's call him Cool Dude.

Cool Dude is my younger sister's son, and we are lucky enough to live within about 10 minutes of their family. Cool Dude is three, a chatterbox (like his mom), a redhead (like his great grandma), a great big brother to his little sister, and one of my best buds. Shallow Man and I have been close friends with Cool Dude since he was born. (Seriously. We were the first people to meet him besides his parents and the hospital staff.)

So this evening we stopped by my sister's place, arriving just in time for Cool Dude to notice that large portions of the popsicle he had just consumed had not, in point of fact, made their way into his mouth and thereby to his stomach, but were instead residing in large patches on his shirt and pants. He therefore requested that I take him upstairs to get him some new pants.

Before this operation could be performed, we had to make a quick stop by the bathroom sink to cleanse his face, hands, arms, shoulders, etc., from the leftover juice of the "wild berry" popsicle (that's what Cool Dude told me it was; his mom, who is probably the more reliable source, informs me that it was actually just grape). In the midst of this operation, Cool Dude paused in his story of wild berries and asked me, "Is there a baby in your tummy still?"

Side note: We'd told him about our baby a few months back, reminding him of when his little sister was in his mommy's tummy, and telling him that now Aunt Scritchy has a baby in her tummy, too, so he gets another cousin (he LOVES his cousins. Cousins are maybe the best thing ever besides wild berry popsicles). He thought this through for a minute and then said, "I have a baby in my tummy, too." (Putting one hand on his tummy and the other on his hip) "She's sleeping right now."

I told him that yes, there was still a baby in my tummy. "That's why my tummy is big right now."

CD: Oh. That's right.

Me: (scrubbing congealed grape goo off his hands) After we wash your hands, you can feel where the baby is if you want to.

CD: Okay!

(Several minutes pass; I finally emerge triumphant with a relatively-clean Cool Dude in tow, who proceeds to choose a new shirt—bright green—and pants—blue stripes—to wear [his mom looked at the ensemble and made a dry remark about how maybe he inherited his uncle's colorblindness]; finally he is clean and fully clothed again.)

I put his hand on my tummy so he could feel where baby was curled up (not kicking at the moment, an increasingly rare occurrence). His eyes got wide and he grinned at me when I told him that was where the baby was.

And then he put his face right up by my tummy, started stroking the spot with his hand, and, in the sweet voice he reserves for his little sister when he's gently telling her not to cry, said "Hi, baby!"

Whereupon I melted.

Yeah, I have awesome nephews. And my boy is going to have a good friend and cousin to help show him the ropes once he gets here. (And I'm sure his other cousins will help, too. I can hardly wait!)

Gotta love it.

So I have previously mentioned how much I like a certain show. But I think that this is my favorite number so far. It's the one I find myself repeatedly revisiting on YouTube; I just hope they don't take the video down anytime soon. Enjoy!

Oh, boy.

Yep, it's a boy! We're surprised but thrilled, and have NO IDEA what to call this kid. (Yeah, we thought he was a girl. Huh.)

I've posted a fuller version of the story on the other blog, so feel free to stop on over.

We've got pictures, but haven't scanned them yet. (And really, one of them is highly inappropriate. Someone needs to teach this kid the importance of modesty.)


And in the meantime, really, who voted for lizard? I know Shallow Man has mutant genes (seriously, his sixth-grade biology teacher pointed out his mutant webbed toes to the rest of the class) but, really now.

The big day; or, A Poll.

So folks, today's the big day. We're getting our ultrasound this afternoon and get to find out what flavor of baby we're having. So place your bets! I'll let you all know when we find out.