ollie pulled a caddyshack and left a baby ruth in the tub tonight.

gabe was on tub duty. i came into the bathroom and told them to get the show on the road. then i started telling gabe a (thrilling) story about work. i paused during my story and we both looked down at ollie, who was suddenly very quiet. he was in his hunched over, pooping position. the one where he throws himself on the floor and pretends like he's really interested in his shoes. though he had no shoes to pretend to be fascinated by so he was using bubbles as a stand-in.

"ollie are you pooping!?" one of us or maybe both of asked him.

"yeah," he casually answered, like it was no big deal. like he poops in the bath all the time.

gabe grabbed him and tried to pull him out of the tub. ollie fought him and tried to find his poop. his chubby little hands were trying to grab it. i stood there, with my mouth hanging open, not knowing what to do. finally, i wrapped him up in a towel and ran downstairs and gave him another bath. he didn't poop the second time.

this was after i fucked up his hair. i mean, after i gave him a hair cut. two years and three and a half months later, i finally cut his hair.

i was ichatting with my brother and ollie tonight and my brother said, "mom said he needs a haircut." and i totally agreed. he did need a haircut. it was out of control.

don't let the picture below fool you. it's a good picture. the cut is awful. he has bangs now. and the bangs are uneven. in the picture i swept them to the side, then took a picture, really fast before he could move.

poor kid.

abcd fgh...

• watch a long(ish) video of my kid singing the alphabet.
• 
  

i want to see this. opens in berkeley on 4/8.

From the feature-length documentary, "Bill Cunningham New York," ( 2010), directed by Richard Press and produced by Philip Gefter.

credit: First Thought Films
Contact Philip Gefter: philipgefter@gmail.com

from here.

dreaming

these are pricey but i swear, i'd wear them everyday. or at least every other day.

from here.

went to the doctor today, for a check up. really it was an introductory meeting because my doctor had to leave the practice. she told me she had to get a job. (at kaiser.) she had just had her second baby and she needed a job where it would be OK if she called in sick.

so anyway, i went to meet my (maybe) new doctor today. she was nice enough. (i really loved my old doctor. she'd come into the exam room and sit down and chat with me before she'd look in my ears. sometimes we'd sit there and chat for so long i'd get nervous about her other patients who were waiting.)

back to today. she asked more questions than any other doctor has ever asked me. i started to feel nervous. really, i had no issues or complaints. at one point she said, "i don't know what i really do for you, you seem healthy." and then she asked me 9,000 more questions. she was looking for something to help me with, or a drug to prescribe. i had nothing for her. in the end she ordered some lab work. for cholesterol and stuff like that. i felt so anxious when i left. is it normal for a 34-year old woman to get lab work? is she worried about me for some reason i don't know? my nervous nature needs a doctor who brushes things off, who shrugs and tells me i'm silly. or maybe someone in the middle. today's doctor was too gloom and doom.

on another note. ici. holy f'in amazing. the chartreuse chocolate is ridiculously delicious. i know this to be true because i just polished off nearly a 1/2 pint. or maybe more.

pajama jeans

wtf? pajama jeans.

less writing more linking

monica bielanko is funny.