And I’m back here in Portland. No more baby D. It’s tough I tell ya. That kid is so sweet, you just want to wrap your arms around his pudgy little body and never let go. Thankfully, Suzy has sent me some very cute pictures of my visit which I will attempt to post online so I’m going to just write a quick post here and then get to work on those pictures.

The flight home was cake. No security hassles but the two people next to me both had cats for carry on luggage so there was lots of meowing all the way home. They were very pretty cats though so I didn’t mind at all.

Got home and Kevin showed off the new deck which is awesome. Once it’s arranged to my satifaction, I’ll post a pic for your viewing pleasure. The backyard, however, is dead. He forgot to water it and it’s been hot. Ah well, I can always buy new plants I suppose. Today I’m doing massive amounts of laundry and food shopping. It sure feel good to be back in my little house!

OK, now I’m off to the baby D pics. Wish me luck!

Today I got to experience Baby D’s newest trick. It’s his own personal version of a kiss and it involves a quart of slobber and a pound of snot. Here’s what you do. You lie on your back and put the kid right on your chest so he can look right down on your face. Then, you give him a great big grin. I believe it’s the grin that starts the drool flowing but I’m still researching this theory. Anyway, he gets all happy and excited and opens his mouth reeeeeal wide. When the drool reaches maximum capacity, he lets gravity take over and his big old head falls down. He smashes his cute baby face into your cheek and deposits a large puddle of drool on you. Because I’m just lucky, he’s in the tail end of a cold so along with the drool, he leaves a train of yellow snot on your face too. Sort of a bonus if you will. Only problem is, this kid is so cute, you don’t even mind it. Just getting a baby kiss from him is worth being slimed.

Compared to last visit he is a)cuter, b)bigger, and c) much more active. And he totally does not trust Elmo. Everytime he settles down, he’ll peer around until he finds gramps. He likes to keep tabs on where that crazy old man is at all times. ‘Course, I don’t particularly blame him. Just goes to show how smart this kid is if, at age 7 months, he already knows to watch for my crazy dad.

I have also discovered that I like to make him cry. Not bawling real tear crying but the little pouty fits that babies will get if you take their toy or bother them too much. His little eyebrowns furrow, his hands start to clench, and he lets out this little yelp that just makes me laugh. Of course, at this point someone realizes that I’m alone with the baby so they rush over and take him from me but I’m hoping that as the weekend progresses their viligence will wane and I may be able to sneak him away all for myself. Hee hee hee. I’ve already been dubbed “The Mean Auntie” but I just can’t help myself! Poor little fella.

I have arrived in San Diego and spent all day with “the little fella” as my mom calls him. I prefer to use the term “fat boy” or “massive baby” as this seems much more appropriate. “Little fella” makes him sound, well, little and there ain’t much little about this guy. Actually, he looks a lot like me as a kid. All rolls of baby fat and pot belly. He has managed to somehow get cuter in the four months since I last saw him. Now, he giggles this little baby laugh that causes me to drop what I am doing, rush over to him and smother him in auntie kisses. Oddly enough, he stops laughing once I start the lip smacking. Maybe he hasn’t quite warmed up to me yet. I’m sure by the end of this weekend, he’ll be eagerly awaiting his auntie kisses. What a lucky baby!

Haven’t yet heard from Kevin but I figure he can’t starve to death in just one day. I’m hoping he’s been too busy mopping the floor to answer my phone call but that may just be a pipe dream. Here’s hoping he remembered to feed the fish today!

So I’m here in LA but just barely. My flight left PDX at 7pm on the nose. Only problem was that Kevin, my chauffeur, was under the mistaken impression that I left at 9pm. Now, I’m sure you’ll realize there is a rather large time difference between 7 and 9. And in this time difference, planes tend to leave without their tardy passengers.

At 6pm, I was sitting at home, sweating bullets when Kevin called me.

“Hey pooks, it’s me. I’m heading home now but I think I’ll stop for gas on my way. Do you want me to pick up any dinner?” he asked innocently.

I was flabbergasted. My flight left in an hour and Kevin was still in Washington a whole state away.

“Well, um, I guess I can drive myself to the airport,” I replied doubtfully. It was at this moment that Kevin realized the situation. He managed to make the drive home in a mere 15 minutes (I don’t even want to think what speed he had to maintain to achieve that), and had me to the airport by 6:30. That gave me only 30 minutes to get through airport security. Now be nice. Stop laughing.

It must be some cruel twist of fate that whenever you are late for a plane, you are destined to set off all the metal detectors. I was wanded, patted down, and had my bag emptied. They even took my shoes.

Now, my mother always told me to wear clean underwear in case I’m in an accident but she never told me to wash my feet in case my shoes are confiscated by airport security. This afternoon, I planted three flowers, watered the lawn and ran around the backyard with my pooch barefoot and happy. So when the security lady asked to see the bottom of my feet, I had to do a mental flinch. Although I had not checked the status of my feet, I was pretty sure they were rather grimy. I have no idea why they had to see the soles of my feet. I seriously doubt there were any explosive materials down there but regardless of the reason, I raised my tootsies and waited while no less then two people examined my dirty soles. I must have passed muster because I was given back my shoes and allowed to proceed to the gate where I was randomly selected for a second security screening and yes, the bottom of my dirty feet were once again examined. Having been properly humiliated, I was allowed on the plane that promptly departed. Although I’m not planning on returning to the airport tomorrow, I’m going to wash my feet tonight so I’ll be ready for any spot inspections.

I thought I had the world at my fingertips by mastering the clean undie trick and now they through this clean feet thing at me. What are next, dandruff checks? Oh the horror!

And I’m back!

We just returned from visiting the McLaughlins who, unfotunately, are spread all over Washington and Montana. So for the last week, we’ve been driving like mad with a rather car sick dog in the back seat. It was well worth it, however.

Kevin’s aunt, uncle and countless cousins all reside in Spokane which is a good seven hours from Portland. Spokane is very flat and very dry. Luckily, Kevin’s relatives are a rather lively bunch who like to BBQ, garage sale, and drink wine. We crashed with Aunt Arnie for two days and were stuffed with turkey burgers made with Johnny’s Seasoning. (I’m told this is a local secret which can’t be found elsewhere.) Poor Artie was chased around by two minature weiner dogs who had a lot of courage despite their small size. Just imagine a very large/fat black dog running for his life from two weiner dogs that, combined, weight approximately 15 lbs. We also got the visit the newly remodeled Davenport Hotel which was beautiful.

After Spokane, we packed up our traumatized pooch and headed east through the Idaho panhandle which, if you were to blink you’d miss, and into Montana. Also known as Big Sky Country. This is a very appropriate name. There were no people, cars or even homes in Montana. Just sky and mountains as far as the eye could see. If I thought Spokane was dry, I was in for a real treat with Montana. Within two hours of entering the state, my lips began cracking and my skin began falling off in flakes. I am such a rainy Portland girl, it’s pathetic. Oh yes, on the way there, we stopped off at the 10,000 Silver Dollar Bar which, not too surprisingly, is a bar that has $10,000 silver dollars on the walls. I’m a bit unsure what it all means but I have been assured that you HAVE to stop and see the $10,000 silver dollars so, I did. That’s a lot of silver.

Once we hit Montana, we headed to Kevin’s little brother, Chris, who lives across the street from Flathead Lake. I’m not exaggerating. You cross the street and there is this massive and beautiful lake. Artie was definately in his element here and spent time swimming, rolling in the dirt, and chasing grasshoppers in the grass. There were grasshoppers EVERYWHERE. You couldnt’ take a step with a cloud of chittering grasshoppers leaping into the air. It was quite creepy really. Artie saw a family of deer that, thankfully, he was unable to catch, and spent the whole time off leash since there was no one but the grasshoppers about. He was in dog heaven.

Chris took us down mainstreet (all two blocks) and the Dell’s Bar where he works. We hit the Kalispell County Fair and Rodeo and finished the trip wit a visit to M&S Meats where we picked up some buffalo jerky. Personally, I stuck with the turkey jerky. I’m just not a buffalo girl. Kevin is going to take it into work tomorrow and make his co-workers eat it. They are always taking him to asian resturants and having him try strange food. Turn around is fair play.

I have just finished unpacking but won’t be able to rest. I’m heading to LA tomorrow to visit baby D. Poor Kevin will be home alone for a whole week. I’m quite sure he won’t survive but I can’t help myself – I need to see that baby. The good news is that I will be back in the land of internet access so I’ll keep you informed of my baby adventures. Maybe if I’m really good, Suzy will let me take him back to Portland with me. Wouldn’t that be great!? He could meet the kitties and play with Artie. Man, I can’t wait!

Ok, ok, gotta to pack. Ta ta!

As of today, I’ve been married three years. That’s right, today is our anniversary. This morning I awoke to diamonds on my pillow and roses on my doorstep. Makes me want to celebrate our anniversary every month! I was planning on cooking this big elaborate meal for Kevin tonight but it’s way too hot to turn on the oven so I think we’ll have to celebrate over take out. Yes, I know, not quite as romantic as a candle lit dinner but hey, you work with what you’ve got and right now my house is 89 degrees. Yick.

Three years. How cool is that?