Airplanes are cool and all but they’re also just all kinds of wrong.
Back from 5 days of staying with in-laws and 2 days of flying with a toddler. Ready to climb the podium and receive my Adulting Olympic Medal.
Sloan kind of sounds like April Wine now. Not like I’m complaining.
(I realize this post probably sounds like a dog-whistle to American humans.)
In a moment of confusion I just had to google “is dick cheney dead yet” and the answer is still no.
Good to know I still have time to glue a few more sequins on my grave-tapdancing shoes.
I’m at that level of sleep deprivation where you start hallucinating Wilson Phillips b-sides.
Thanks for all the good tips. I feel almost 50% more positive about this flight not ending with us being escorted back home by a squad of fighter jets.
I’ve got plenty of that, but I’ll also bring along some anger and bargaining just in case.
Any tips for flying with a 2-year-old? Or is anyone drunk and angry and wants to yell at me so I can get some practice?
Aw man I love that little booger though.
Shammy’s Birthday Breakdown:
# of people with nasty headcolds: 3
# of introverted parents who couldn’t handle all the skyping and family phone calls: 2
# of ugly vegan last minute birthday cakes: 1
# of naps taken by birthday boy with head cold: 0
# of cool mom blog points earned: -1,000,000
Please tell me a two-year-old won’t remember this.
Tonight I am going to see King Crimson. Prog out man.
King Crimson - Larks’ Tongues in Aspic, Part 1
tag your prog
Yo, prospect of having Sunday afternoon visitors, I’m really happy to anticipate good times with you and Imma let you finish, but hanging out in a house that’s relatively tidied up for guests without having to deal with any actual guests is the best feeling of all time. OF ALL TIME.