Saturday, March 19, 2005

squirting

It's always difficult to write in this blog so late at night... I was thinking in the car on the way home tonight what I was going to write about, and now that I sit down in front of my computer, I can't remember any of it. I thought I would be well into my thirties before my mind started to go...

Well, let's see. Tonight we went to Brian's dad's house for dinner. Dinner consisted of takeout pizza and salad. His stepmom was in a mood, she supposedly had a migraine. She and his dad bickered all night. I don't think I would ever talk to Brian like that in front of other people. (In private is a different matter.) They are obviously having some marital problems, and it's difficult to be around them. The other thing that bugged me, and this is something that always bugs me about Brian's family, is that his dad would ask us a question and then find some way to turn it around to talk about himself. For example, he was asking us what colors we are going to paint our apartment. When I started to squirting tell him, first he tells me that I *should* paint the dining room a different color than I am planning, and then he proceeds to talk about the colors that he wants to paint his house. And as far as the discussion about our apartment goes, I never got past the first room. This happens all the time, and it drives me batty Squirting.


Brian did ask his dad for money tonight. Finally.


Other random notes...
We have not been able to reproduce Catherine's steps of yesterday.


Brian is planning a gourmet brunch for my parents tomorrow, complete with mimosas.


I was thinking when I put Catherine squirting to bed tonight that I would love to take another *sleeping* picture of her... she sleeps on her stomach now, and the sight of her chubby little legs flung about is just too adorable for words.


I'm not sure I'm ready to leave Cincinnati. Or maybe I'm not ready to leave my parents. Or maybe I'm in denial that Radio City is actually here and actually going to happen. *Challenging* does not even begin to describe the next few months for us. I'm not sure we are ready for any of it.