Yah, so....we cut Francie's hair, right?

Allison's hair parts nicely on one side and I prefer no bangs to start, so she can make her own choices and there's no awkward growing out phase, you know? So anyway, Frances is another story. Her hair kind of grows in a swirl from the top of her head, which is to say it sort of parts horizontally at the crown, which means it falls in her face in the front but there isn't really a good place to part it.

Sorry if that doesn't make sense. Just trust me. Bangs seemed like a good idea, giving the hair growing in odd directions situation. So we trimmed the front--Joe did it, kinda jaggety--and it sort of looks cute, in a mullett-esque way. I would take a picture but we don't have a camera, so Joe and I came up with this illustration.

A mullet is business in the front party in the back, right?

Frances's hair is dumb in the front (a la Jim Carrey) and dumber in the back (a la Jeff Daniels)













which, if you think about it, might be kind of awesome.

Marlayna!

Some of you know Marlayna. Some of you don't. For those who don't, you're missing out.




















Marlayna is a little girl we knew from church and she was one of Allison's best friends when we lived in Atlanta. They are just the same age and it was just a little girl love-fest every time we got them together. The rest of us love Marlayna, too. She's such a petite, pretty little thing but she's never been shy about telling anybody and everybody what's what. She's quite the little lady. I think about her sitting between me and Allison in our pew in the second row. I think of the day she pointed up at the crucifix and said, Jesus is wearing a diaper! And I remember the day she looked up and said, is Allison your little girl? I told her yes and she followed up with, Can I be your little girl, too? Yes, sweetheart, you certainly can. She's her mother's little girl and she's definitely her daddy's girl but she's got my heart, too.

For those of you who don't know Marlayna's story, she was diagnosed in January of 2007 with a brain tumor. After 18 months of chemo, she's doing quite well. I had an email, as I'm sure some of you did, asking for donations to Team Marlayna, for a fundraising walk. I decided to throw it open to ya'll, just in case you didn't see it or in case you don't know Marlayna.

Anything will help.

http://www.firstgiving.com/marlayna

Fist hurt!

Often when I try to teach her something (like how to do a somersault) she invents her own version, something all her own that she knows how to do, and she'll teach it to me (as in...somerkaut*).

Anyway, this one time I was teaching her to do a fist bump and she decided that no, we shouldn't do that. We should do a fist hurt.

In her own words, Allison will now describe to you fist hurt.

A fist hurt is something that you do when you want to do it. And you have to make a fist and then smash each other with a fist. When you do the fist hurt it hurts.

So, essentially, Allison argues that the fist hurt is rather like a fist bump, except instead of gently bumping knuckles one to another, you punch as hard as you can. And it hurts. Bonus points for popping knuckles.


*Joe and I had a long discussion the other day about how to spell somerkaut. I was for somerkott but he insists it should mirror somersault. He's right. Somerkaut it is. I'm not going to describe it. It's silly.

Eggs, eggs!

Twice this week, we've had a meal of breakfast tacos. Austinites are crazy for the breakfast tacos. Rightly so. The breakfast taco is fabulous.

We use the super cheap fajita size tortillas. I can get 50 for under $2.

Then I set out:

Scrambled eggs with tabasco
chorizo browned with potato and onion
cheddar cheese
some pico de gallo I made (fresh peppers, tomatoes and onions plus garlic and cilantro and a little lime juice)
sour cream (frances likes it)

Dinner last week, lunch today. The kids like it. Joe likes it. Try it, you'll like it!

Add a dinner of fresh pasta last night, which took four eggs, and we ate our dozen for the week.

Tomorrow, I acquire more eggs. Tonight, I will dream about a breakfast taco.

Joe: you'd hardly notice him.

Me: *to Joe* I can't believe Palin said Joe Six Pack when she was in a debate with a man named Joe. I totally stopped saying things like Joe Blow or whatever when I met you. Joe shouldn't be the generic name.
Joe: It's true. I'm not everyman.
Allison: Right, Daddy. You're just one man.
Joe: That's right.
Allison: You're just like every other man, though.

Ah, motherhood.

I'm not saying one way or another about high fructose corn syrup but this interaction? Absolutely priceless.