Hello everyone, and welcome to my blog. As this is my first post, I'm afraid it isn't going to be anything exciting. Besides, what number am I on your blog-reading list? Third? Seventh? Thirty-first? Well, I promise that, in the future, I will do my absolute best to make my blog an entertaining and/or enlightening reading adventure for each and every one of you ignorant fools that got sucked into reading yet another of these online rant pages. Of course, I make no promises, so no bitching about my shitty blog on
your blog, unless if you desire to start a digital war between us that may see no end. Beware. *chuckle*
Anyway, if I remember correctly, it is Thursday, July ... 6th? Yes, I realize the date is just a paragraph above this, but I don't get to see that. Aparently, Blogspot.com doesn't think the administrators deserve to know the date. Or perhaps, they assume that, if you don't know the date, you're not the type to keep a blog. At the moment, Haven is on the couch, on her belly, staring at my fabulously flying fingers as I type away at my first ever posting. Swiftly, I grab the laptop and turn my back, giving Haven a suspicious glare while clutching the computer desperately to my chest.
Ah, yes. The update. Haven's first Fourth of July comes and goes, ending in a fantastic rain storm that ended up canceling the fireworks for the night. Amy, Haven and I sat huddled under the world's smallest umbrella for about a half-hour, until a nice family invited us under their little pavilion/tent thing until it let up. Every belonging we took with us got utterly soaked, as did Amy and I (Haven stayed dry and warm in Mommy's arms and a couple blankets), and we didn't even get to see the annual pyro-light show. Poop. They were rescheduled for last night (Wednesday), so Amy and Haven got to go, but poor Daddy had to work (and it was fucking busy, too). Haven apparently was fascinated by the fireworks, and wasn't overly bothered by the noise.
Besides that, Haven weighs in at about 19 lbs. now, and remains in the 95th-97th percantile for height and weight. She's fat, healthy (thank God), happy, and fickle. These days, she's only happy if she's being held by Mommy or Daddy. Flattering to the two of us, but not that flattering to our backs and arms (we're getting pretty damn buff, let me tell you). My life consists of work, taking care of Haven, work, taking care of Amy, work, elusive snippets of leisure, work, the financial burdens of
la vie boheme, and work. Amy's life consists of taking care of Haven, modeling from time to time, taking care of Haven, taking care of our bunnies, taking care of Haven, spending time with friends and acquaintances, and taking care of Haven. Last but not lease, Haven's life consists of eating, shitting, eating, pissing, eating, giggling (just in the last week!), eating, saying ba-ba-ba-ba, eating, beating her belly like a drum, and eating. What a little fatso. I love her. *
leaning over, Kyle plants a sloppy kiss on Haven's cheek. Haven makes a face, mutters "yoink!" and swipes his glasses off his face to stuff in her drooly mouth* Damn kid. Give 'em back. *
Haven laughs, then flings the glasses into the air. They bounce off the coffee table and land with a bump onto the carpet. Kyle picks them up, wipes the drool and dust off the lens onto Haven's dress with a smug grin, and places them back on his face*So ends my first posting on my first blog. Realizing that reading this was probably considered a waste of your time, please allow me to say that I'm not sorry in the least. I hope that you will continue to waste your fleeting minutes on reading my blog, and I will do my best to post again soon. I wish you all a good day.
Zen Calendar Quote:
"We are caught in an enescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny." ~ Martin Luther King, Jr.
