Just when I thought I was at a loss for things to write about…

“POP!”

“POP!”

is what I hear from my living room last night. Jason rose before I did, walked outside and down the steps of our porch to see what was going on. Gunshots. Then, two “kids” (now that I’m of the ripe old age of 27, I call anyone under 23 a kid) in baggy, black hooded sweatshirts running down the street, a beat up old car following them. They turned and headed westbound toward the ocean, falling out of sight.

Suddenly, a noise from inside the house. Okay, sorry, I got caught up there for a second. No noise, fear not! Anyway, Jason came back up and called the cops who showed up less than 2 minutes later and promptly began searching the ground for shell casings.

Neighbors appeared from their darkened houses, and of course me, sitting in my pajamas upstairs, peeking out from behind the curtains like a little kid waiting for Santa. Turns out 3 other neighbors had called it in.

In the next few minutes, four additional cop cars had arrived. Jason stayed outside to talk to the officers, offering his description of what he had witnessed. The police left shortly after that and me…well, I went back to watching Rocky.

I have never felt unsafe on my street. I live in a decent area with good, law-abiding (for the most part, and as far as I know…) neighbors. And yet, we’ve had our car broken in to, our wheels stolen, our garage robbed, and there might be a wife-beater down the street (judging from his vocal outrages and the three detectives I saw entering his house one day). Oh, and now gunshots.

Yet, I still feel this is a relatively safe neighborhood, maybe because I’ve lived in much, much worse! However, as a mother, there is no neighborhood too safe, and gunshots are just not acceptable. I mean, what the F?

Part of me says “You can’t get away from violence. It is everywhere.” And another part of me says, “It’s time to get the fuck out of Dodge.”

I’m like a child when it comes to blogs…I get bored without pictures. I can read a book without illustrations just fine (I’m not that sad!), but I like to indulge in some good eye candy when it comes to delving into other people’s lives. That’s probably why I subscribe to US magazine (oh, God, I am that sad!) and watch reality television.

Anyway, a cool chickie named Nicole gave me this idea, so enjoy! (P.S. Click on the picture to read all kinds of gory details about the crap shown here!)

This Thanksgiving was all about the boxed dinner from Albertson’s. That’s right - turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, green bean casserole, cranberry and pumpkin pie, all packed neatly in cardboard. And honestly, it wasn’t bad! Yes, I could make better, but who wants to slave away for 6 hours? Not me, thank you very much.

Oh, and we had it Wednesday night, not Thursday. Thursday was annual dim-sum-and-car-show day.

Yesterday, I begged Jason to go with me to get a tree - our only “normal” tradition. He was tired and completely satisfied sitting at home watching Sopranos, but I eventually convinced him to take the trek. (I win!)

As fun as the past few days have been, I have a feeling the high point of this long weekend will be tonight, when Jason and I have our very first date since Squid was born. My mother-in-law is babysitting for us so we can go see a favorite local band of mine. The thought of actually leaving the house together sans baby is so very bizarre! Let’s hope I don’t spend the entire evening worrying. Now, that will be a miracle.

Well, I aaaaaaallllllmost did it.

I finished 11 out of 15 items on my To-Do list! Squid was a huge help, staring at me with wide (maybe scared) eyes from the seat of his walker while I scurried around the house like a madwoman.

I think the highlight was definitely the dog walk which we took our time on, enjoying the crisp Fall weather, rumbling Muni train and distant fog horns vibrating out on the ocean.

I still can’t bring myself to change the litter box, no matter how bodly I write it on my lists. I got used to my husband doing it all throughout my pregnancy (I was forbidden for nine months due to the risk of toxoplasmosis), and now refuse to go back to completing this task. Whatever. I have enough shit to deal with - especially since Squid just started eating peas…

What’s on your To-Do List today? Here’s what’s on mine:

1) Paint toenails

2) Blog

3) Do some writing other than blogging

4) Laundry!

5) Change litter box

6) Vacuum

7) Walk dogs

8) Finish knitting scarf

9) Mail letters and bills

10) Put add for dining room table on Craigslist

11) Buy coffee beans and tampons

12) Cut baby’s finger/toe nails

13) Call G-ma

14) Clean and organize linen closet

15) Clean out desk and shred papers

Think I can do it? You’ll find out tomorrow…

So, did you hear about the woman who was kicked off a plane for breastfeeding? I grabbed the news from Mama C-ta this evening. Can you believe this crap?

Thank goodness for these people, who are fighting back. Who doesn’t understand the basic necessity of breastfeeding? Who thinks it’s obscene to breastfeed in public? Did they kick off the woman next to her for eating peanuts? They should have. After all, she was providing herself with sustenance so that she could go on living contently.

I’m all for being discreet and polite, but when you’re in a confined space and there is no where else to go, what is a mother to do? Does Delta have a designated area on their planes for breastfeeding women, perhaps some saved seats for an occasion such as this? Let me think…mmm…nope! Of course they don’t, because that would mean losing money! So, instead, they humiliate an innocent mother for doing her job!

Had I been in the shoes of Emily Gillette, I would have certainly showed the entire plane the true meaning of “making a scene.” I wish I had been there, simply as a fellow passenger. Did no one stand up for this woman? Well, here’s our chance. Oh, and tell Delta where they can stick it.

Squid is a whiz with his hands now, getting into all kinds of inappropriate baby playthings, like keyboard buttons and CD covers. Here, he struggles (and succeeds) to get a grip.

His legs are pretty nifty, too. Here, he makes a bee say “Buzz!”

A few months into our relationship, my husband (casual dating partner, at the time) initiated a conversation that went something like this:

“You’re not the type to get mad if the toilet paper is facing the opposite way you face it, right?”

After I’d gotten over the extremely irritating and presumptuous nature of this question (I mean, who said I’m gonna be dealing with YOUR toilet paper, anyway!), I answered, “I could give a shit.” What he didn’t hear were my accompanying thoughts: As long as it’s facing the RIGHT WAY, of course!

“Cool.”

“Why?” I asked. “Which way do you face the toilet paper?”

“I face it so that the flap comes from underneath, not lying over the top.”

(In other words, the WRONG WAY!) “Oh,” I said. And that was that.

Later, when I had moved in with this fling-turned-fiancé, I bit my lip when I’d go into the bathroom, and eventually learned to do what I had said I’d do in the first place, which was simply not care that the T.P. was facing the WRONG WAY!

Then, one day, when the toilet paper had run low, I removed the existing roll and refilled it with a fresh one. (Hmm…I could have some fun with this.) I placed the roll the way I’d always done it, and sat back to watch the magic unfurl.

A few hours later, I heard a cry coming from the bathroom. “Hon?!?”

In my most innocent and endearing voice, I replied, “Yes, dear?”

My bones were shaking; a tingle spread through my body; he was going to do it, I could feel it!

“You put the toilet paper on the wrong way!”

At this, I joyfully skipped down the hallway, shouting, “A-HA! I knew it!”

He tried to cover his fatal mistake, of course, but there was no turning back. He’d been caught, shamefully revealed as the true toilet paper freak!

Let’s just say it was the first of many victories… And, yet, to this day, it still remains one of the sweetest!