Photo Friday: Monkeys and Tattoos. And a Mullet.

I just can’t bring myself to call it Foto Friday. It hurts my proofreading heart. Also, sorry Facebook friends, you’ve seen all these already.

I present to you Little A’s two Halloween costumes. It was almost three because the monkey was an impulse buy almost two months ago and they had the cutest giraffe costume at Costco last week that was thisclose to being irresistible. But what the shit would I do with three costumes? I might buy it if they still have it today. It’ll be warm for the road trips to the wintery, blustery Midwest. AND ADORABLE. And I want to dress him up like a giraffe.

And before you become alarmed and clutch your pearls, the tattoo was washed off less than 24 hours later. I clearly wouldn’t burden the kid with a tattoo. At least not one quite this cliche.

We went to a Halloween party last weekend as Bikers. HARDCORE. Also, easy. Thank you, random discovery of studded pleather in the Wal-Mart fabric aisle. Also, there’s totally a half of a toilet paper tube up in that hair. We had intended to attach a skull bandanna to one of Little A’s hats but we forgot. Alas, the “Road Warrior” hoodie sufficed. Not pictured is Big A, who dressed as a biker as well. A Bicycle Biker. Complete with butt pads, spandex and helmet.

What we really needed for this party was randomly sent to us by my brother, but sadly it arrived four days too late. I had no idea what was coming. He sent Little A a mullet wig. A BABY MULLET WIG. It would have been perfect with the biker shtick.  Not to mention the fact I have been obsessed with mullets for like ten years. In college outside my sorority room door I had a collection of mullet photos taken around town – my “Mulletin Board”. THAT PHRASE IS TRADEMARKED DON’T #%@!% STEAL IT. He would have totally made the board.

So next year, whether he likes it or not, Little A will be dressed as something requiring a mullet. Maybe for his first birthday. Hell, all future trips to Wal-Mart may require the mullet.

For the actual celebration of Halloween, Little A was a cuddly monkey. We bought the costume because it was cheap and cute and who wouldn’t want to see this goon dress up like a monkey. CHUNKY MONKEY ALERT.

He fell asleep in it. I would say candy coma, but that was what happened to me.

Side note as we enter November: A lovely post was written over at Excitement on the Side yesterday, detailing all the things she could do this month. And she made me think. I could be thankful for something every day, but I think my pessimistic attitude would tire of that quickly. And a writing a blog post every day would be awesome and would hold me to writing, but the kid still isn’t doing that much and I don’t leave the house so I’d end up detailing the way my carpet is wearing in high traffic areas and the contents of my freezer. Yikes.

So I will leave those things to her and other more experienced bloggers who have more to say. Maybe next year.

Although I am 100% thankful that we made it through Hurricane Sandy unscathed, dry and warm. Big A is never allowed to leave again.


Kenya !@#% Believe It?

Fact: Below is one of the first posts I drafted when I started this blog almost 11 months ago. ELEVEN MONTHS AGO. And it sat in the draft pile week after week after week because sorting through 1500 pictures just seemed like too big of a chore. And then it got to the point where I forgot. And then it got to the point where if I waited a few more weeks, it would fall on the year anniversary of the trip. So here we are.

A year ago this week, I came back from the GREATEST vacation I’ve ever been on. GREATEST. EVER. I wrote a travel pamphlet in like fifth grade on Kenya and since then, I wanted to go to there. Never in my wildest dreams did I actually think it would happen. But it did. And I loved it more than I could have imagined and I am beyond thankful for the opportunity.

The country and the people and the atmosphere touched me in a way that still moves me. I felt incredibly homesick in the days after I got back home and I still get that pang. I’m not a stranger to homesickness – I grew up in Minnesota and every time I visit I still get teary when I leave, especially if I am flying. It was the only place I would cry over. Until last year. I was practically sobbing as the plane took off from Nairobi. I felt like a fool but I couldn’t help it. I felt like I was leaving a part of myself behind.

Little did I know I was bringing part of it home with me. And really, what were the %^@!$ odds of THAT.

Below is the original post, finally with photos.

Dear @#$* Baby,

You don’t need to know the how. You’ll learn that from TV eventually. But you should know the where. Because the where is awesome and you need to embrace your “roots”.

We made you in Nairobi, Kenya while on an epic vacation. The doctor is dating you a week later because apparently that’s how you measured at Week 13*. But I’m not the Virgin Mary and you’re definitely not Immaculate and Big A was 7000 miles away since we didn’t travel home together, so that’s a load of crap. We know the truth. Anyway, you’ve already been on safari, climbed a volcano and flown over the Atlantic. I wonder if I can claim extra air miles. I hope you’re grateful. It took me 30 years to get to Africa and you’ve already been there.

*Yep, I have had this draft written since Week 13.  It has seen more than its fair share of edits.

Check out some of the shit you were a part of…

Held a Baby Crocodile

Fed a Baby Giraffe

Saw Orphan Baby Elephants

Saw Amazing Scenes Straight Out of Lion King

Rode an Ostrich. And then ate one.

Saw Lion Cubs Wrestle

Climbed a Volcano

You also sort of helped fed a monkey and pet a baby cheetah but I can’t find the videos of those things.

We’re sort of hoping you come out half African, just so you know. And a terrific runner.

You also probably sucked in nutrients from a lot of Tusker beer (which may or may not contain formaldehyde) and smoke from several hookahs. Sorry about that. Earlier this year, we were debating how I could fly out and you could be born there, because how awesome would dual citizenship be? But we figured the 16 hours worth of flights may not be the most rational thing to do so late in the game.

But we’ll get you back there, someday. If not for you, for me, because for whatever reason, my week in Kenya causes me to be homesick for it and I miss it terribly. But at least you’ll be an everlasting souvenir.


Screamin’ Demon

After last Friday’s LOOK AT ME post, I realized I have a ton of photos lined up to share with anyone who will look. So I am hereby (unofficially, because I don’t stick to things for very long) launching Photo Friday. Or Photo Phriday. Or Foto Friday. Whatever, I’m just going to start posting a shitton ton of pictures on Fridays of various shit.

Check out Angry Baby.


Gratuitous Photo Alert

Yeah, this has been in the draft pile since, like, Memorial Day. Well, these photos were taken Memorial Day weekend, so maybe it was a week or two after that. Either way, I sort of don’t look like this anymore. But  I still wanted to share. Because this is my blog. And I do what I want.

Shout out to Melissa McClure Photography  for being willing to put up – as always – with my crazy faces during this shoot. She’s awesome. And she knows it. You should know it, too.

I tend to dislike the cheesy shit, so this is what happens when it gets brought up in jest.

And one of Baxter because he’s Baxter and he kicks ass.