When baby is asleep, do not let husband pass her around. Really, it wasn't his fault. But the next three hours of catnap, feed, feed, chuck, feed, catnap, feed, chuck... turned today into ONE OF THOSE DAYS. Shame, it being Sunday and all.
Still, we made it to swing class. I made it through swing class. Audrey likes music. She doesn't like a particular swing tune, but that's probably because I cringe doing that routine and she is conditioned to the wave of horror that shudders through my body every time I hear those opening bars.
Cleavage (when burping a baby) is a bad thing. It allows the milky posset to slide right down the front of your top. Not. Pleasant.
Prosciutto and mushrooms w/ ravioli = great.
Prosciutto and mushrooms AND red capsicum AND green capsicum AND onion AND tomato AND parmesan w/ravioli = bleargh. Like slimy salsa invading my perfectly salty pasta paradise.
Space Odyssey 2001 is a complete head trip and the guys making it dropped a ton of acid. I don't want to imagine what it would have been like if I too had indulged in illicit substances.
Parens are good things. First-time grandparents are a little scary. (A little? I want to change the locks and get an unlisted telephone number.)
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Am I just talking to myself?