if you think reading about someone else's body parts is lame, then we never knew each other at all

I handed Mr Curry the newest edition of US magazine. With a page torn out, which I held balled in my sweaty hand. I flopped the magazine on his chest. You can read this, I said, but I tore out these girls in bikinis. I just had to. He laughed and I laughed but I threw that sweaty ball of magazine page away.

Lola burst into the room announcing she was growing up, and her Dad and I smelled her sweaty pits. Plus, one of her niplits (this is our family word for little girl breasts) has popped out. One of them, but she's counting.

Dakota has co-started a company called Wake Up Industries and they are selling stickers and shirts. The stickers just came in and one is a big ole Buddha and underneath is says Buddha Is Phat. At some point I'll have a link. I'm proud of him.

Ian is leaving for a week long trip to NY and Washington DC. He worked damn hard gethering the money to pay for the school trip- which he was invited to go to - including sacrificing Xmas and Bday gifts for money. I'm proud of him.

Mr. Curry smells like soft leather and worn tee shirts and dirt and safety. If he could be made into a cologne I'd be rich.

A baby bird flew from a bush in my mom's backyard right on her knee and looked up at her in a friendly way before chirping and flying off. LUCKY.

I have changed my thongs to large ladies underwear, cementing my current role as carrier of child and impairing my sexual mojo.

I often stop when I hear something that stands out and say either 'that's the name of my new band' or 'that would be a great name for a porn movie.' Whenever I say that's the name of my new band Lola rolls her eyes and says MOM. Why do you always say that when you know you don't have a band? Today in conversation these fantastic porn movie names came up:
wadded underwear
jelly rolls and lingerie
tiny tim and the headbangers

According to an update, my Biggie Pea is the size of a fig.

It's diconcerting when you lie down happily in your child's bunkbed, humming, and glance up to find I HATE MAGGIE carved in the underside wood of the top bunk. Four years ago I pissed him off so bad he called me Maggie instead of Mom. Impressive anger redirection.

I have no internet because we couldn't pay our COX bill. I am finding ways to check in here but cannot spend the time I normally do. I miss you. I received a gift in the mail from a blog friend and it made my freaking WEEK. The gift timing and her words could not have been more perfect or more appreciated. I don't know when we will pay our bill but we will and it shouldn't be longer than a few weeks. Although that is clearly longer than any red blooded blogger would like, it's been refreshing and I don't feel blue about it.

Hug it out, bitches!