I Speak With the Tongue of a Thousand White-Hot Lies!

On vacation. Have hit the hermit mode of vacation. (I am an only child with a relatively small family, so the enormity of the family I have married into sometimes overwhelms me and I need to be Alone. I'm not actually physically alone at the moment, but the younger generation of men is downstairs playing Magic and calling each other various forms of "douchebag," and I have the parents-in-law mesmerized by Hard Day's Night on VH1 Classic, so it all amounts to the same thing.)

Today I bought a mockingjay keychain at Borders. And if you don't know what that is, well, read The Hunger Games. And then you will recognize the ultra-coolness that is my keys. Or will be, once I have them on the thing.

We also saw Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, which I freaking adored and don't want to hear a bad thing about because I liked it just that much, it made me happy, so keep yer criticisms to yourself, dammit. I didn't even get annoyed at Michael Cera at all, and I always tend to start out liking him and wanting to smack him and his cute elliptical line-readings around a little to get them to man up by the end of the movie.

Kieran Culkin for the win, though. Just sayin'. If Robert Downey, Jr. implodes again, just hire Kieran Culkin instead.

I bought volume one of the graphic novel, and I don't think this is the start of an obsessive reading jag like seeing and then getting volume one of Sin City was, though the two experiences have certain similarities. But I think the art may be too cute for me.

And this vacation has been movie-heavy, as we've seen the new Clash of the Titans (yawn) and The Hangover. The Hangover was not as godawful guy-movie as I expected, but was also not as funny as the hype would have had me believe. That said, I did enjoy a lot of it. I did not see the trunk thing coming.

But. Not as make-me-cry funny as 40 Year Old Virgin.

Now I just have to see if my father will take me to see Inception, as my husband swears to god he will not see this movie. Oh, here, this was our conversation:

L: I want to see Inception.

S: Why?

L: It looks really cool--you love super-visual movies, why wouldn't you want to see it?

S: It's the guy who made Memento! I hated Memento! I swore never to see another movie that guy makes, ever!

L: The guy who made Memento also made Insomnia, Batman Begins, and Dark Knight.

S: ...

L: In fact, so far he's only made one movie that we haven't seen.

S: (muttered swearing) I am still not going to see Inception.

So, yeah. Have to talk Dad into it. I owe him a movie for mowing my lawn.

All right. I think I'm going to go do some more of my Doctor Who meme, now.

Vacation was exhausting. Well, we were exhausted going into it. Turns out the Zweeble had salmonella. Yup, that's right, salmonella. We seriously don't know where he picked it up, because nobody else got sick, but we await the health department's call eagerly.

Anyway, he was sick and in a new place. Which does not add up to restful, relaxing evenings on the deck. But he did improve a lot during that week, and he's now back to his normal self in every regard, if a touch more spoiled than usual.

But we did have a good time with the in-laws and vandriver and ... whatever the hell Tyler's old LJ handle was. Or, as Z. calls them, "the goofballs." As in we went down to the basement one morning and he looked around, then asked, "Mommy, where the goofballs go?"

Our other notable Zweeble quote from the trip: "Get me out of this freaking seatbelt."

And he seems to have learned some negotiating skills, and how to just refuse food without freaking out over it like you're planning to shove it down his little throat right then and there! Believe me, the head shake and/or "no thanks" is so much nicer.

On our trip back, the Zweeb re-skinned his knee as we loaded the truck, so I was covered in blood and had to change clothes. Then, in the Atlanta airport, his diaper leaked as I carried him, so he and I both had to change clothes--Z. pants, me a shirt. Then as we waited for our plane, he managed to faceplant on the carpet and re-skin another scabby bit on his shin, and this time it was Scott covered in blood. Scott, being manly (and afraid of missing the boarding call) refused to change his shirt.

But today we're home and unpacked, and I feel a trifle hungover. I am in dire need of a shower, as well.

This morning my mother-in-law made blueberry muffins from a box, and asked us how they were. dealio and I agreed that they were fine for box muffins, pretty good. She mentioned that she was going to make them for Christmas morning, when the clan converges upon the house.

"Laura could make some from scratch," Scott said.

Um. Yes ... I could, conceivably, make blueberry muffins from scratch. I allowed as such, but added what a pain they are to make, in my opinion (sugarcoatedlie could probably make them in her sleep). "I could make lemon ginger muffins, if I had the recipe."

Well, after a quick search and discovery of the entire cookbook on Google Books, I am now making lemon ginger muffins, chocolate chip muffins, and homemade bread. Of my own volition. All day tomorrow. Scott promised to help and be my kitchen slave.

This is, I feel, the first true test of my baking skillz.

I'm only really nervous about scalding the milk for the bread. My grandmother can scald milk by eye and nose, but I tend to get all antsy, so I like to use the kitchen thermometer and wait until it's 180 degrees. I'm more Alton Brown, I guess.

Of course, the family has been regaled for years with stories of my cooking disasters--the CoCo Puff marshmallow birthday lump, the post-hurricane gingerbread house (both of which were edible, if slightly disturbing and unattractive)--so I have to wonder if anyone will be brave enough to try my stuff. I could probably goad nocmaar into it by impugning his manhood ...

So there's this whole complicated story regarding carry-ons and the baby seat and our stroller, which I won't go into, but the upshot is that we bought one of those Snugli carriers for our trip, and today the Zweeble and I tried it out**. It went very well (compared to yesterday, when he wanted nothing to do with it, but he was tired and getting hungry); I got him into it with very little trouble (one of the side lock things was really stiff, but I got it eventually). He was smiling as I checked us out in the mirror, and he seemed to really enjoy our little walk. Lately I can't take him down the street in the stroller before he's howling (we have cruddy streets), but in the carrier he was fine.*** Also, not nearly as hard on my back as the sling--the Snugli takes a lot more of his weight than the sling does, so I'm not leaning way far back to try and keep him stable. (So, yuppie and not hippie. Ah, well.)

The front piece, though, which is the head support for smaller babies and sleeping babies when they face the parents, and supposedly folds down when the baby faces front, kept riding up over his face. I had to keep holding it down. This is not quite the hands-free experience the box promised.

I got home, looked at the instructions, and ... they only sort of resemble the actual Snugli I have. Hm.

So I sat down with the Snugli and used my native brilliance and MA, and ... figure out that the little loopy things that are nowhere to be found in the instructions are actually meant to hold the head piece down. Go, me! (Of course, since the Zweeble will not be able to continue chewing on the piece as it rides up, he may not be quite as happy in the thing, now. It does have a "cell phone pocket" that I'm using as a binky pocket, so I'll have that much handy.)

My grandmother will be especially pleased, as she's the one who wanted me to get one.


**I figure Scott will be wearing it through the airports, but I want to know how it all goes together and get the Zweeble used to being in it, and by the time Scott gets home the little guy is way too tired to want to deal with it.

***woo-hoo, power walk with an 18+ pound ball of chaos as a weight! Actually, he wasn't that chaotic. But he was definitely weighty.