I have a splitting headache but I have to write something. I've been neglecting the journal and Pith of Pop recently and I know if I let it go for too long, I'll never pick it up again. Such is life when you have to carry your infant son around all day.

And I enjoy writing, especially in PoP. I get a lot of feedback. Oddly, a lot of it is about my food network show reviews. Some of it is not necessarily positive feedback, but it's fun to find out how many people are reading my stuff. I'm even pretty good at not letting the "yor just jellus of Rachel!" letters get to me, either.

But seriously, I have to carry Alex around all day. It makes me feel like a shitty mother. I told my mom once how much he hates being put in his crib or his baby gym and she told me "Oohhhh. Spoiled already.". So I'm convinced that it's my fault; if I had just learned to leave him alone when I brought him home from the hospital, I wouldn't have this problem. He's not fond of his Snugli, but I guess if push comes to shove I'll just have to wear a crying baby, because every stitch of clothing I own is in a pile on top of my still-unpacked-since-our-move-ten-months-ago bathroom bins.

In the i-tunes cart: four tracks from Pick a Hit Hawaii

Easter was okay. Diane invited us to the Easter celebration at her church, but not before Katie got invited to her classmate's birthday party. I am apparently the world's worst schedule keeper and forgot about the birthday party and told Diane we'd be there. And the week after Katie got invited to the party, she won a free lesson with a drum instructor in town (long story). We decided Ryan would take Katie to her lesson and then to the party and I'd take the boys to the egg hunt at Di's church.

All went pretty well. Zac's biggest problem was that after he'd collected ten or so eggs, his basket was kind of heavy for him, and as he drug it along the ground, the eggs would all fall out. But he had a great time. The second or third time he lost his payload he threw up his hands and exclaimed "Oh, dear!".

We were on the H2, about ten minutes from home when I heard THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP. Honestly, I had no idea what it was for about twenty seconds. I thought it was a noisy car next to me until I looked around and realized that there was nobody that close to me, and that if my tire was flat, it would probably make that sound.

So I got over to the shoulder and called Ryan, who told me he'd duck out of the party as soon as he could but to call AAA in the meantime.

on the table: Zatarain's jumbalaya mix with my own chicken, portuguese sausage and pappers thrown in

As I was being transferred from the Northern California AAA club to the Hawaii AAA club, (what is up with that? the phone number on my membership card isn't even the right phone number) a nice man in a champagne Tacoma pulled over. Now, to give you an idea of the gravity of the situation in which I'd managed to find myself: I could not hear a single word the man uttered to me. It turns out that being near fifty or so cars going 70 miles an hour is like being at a rock concert.

I realized that I didn't even know the extent of the damage to my tire. I got out and took a peek and DAMN! The thing was shredded. There was a gash that went all along the rim and I could see that little pieces had flown out.

I got out of the guy's way and let him help me. He managed to get my spare out of the trunk and onto my car in about seven minutes. Ryan showed up shortly thereafter, as did the tow truck that I no longer needed. Ryan asked the nice man what we could do to repay him for the kindness and he said "go to church tomorrow".

So we did.

Posted by: lisa at April 1, 2005 11:50 AM

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