Justification, Presented as Catching Up

Hi. I realized I skipped July there. I'm guessing I didn't have time to blog because I spent a lot of time cleaning up summer-related things, a la popsicles, sand, mud, chalk, sunscreen, and chardonnay. Happily, chardonnay does not stain as much as winter-related wine.

I decided to stay home with Miss Thang. No more work. There's even been a lull in the freelance stuff I was doing, and I am more than fine with it. I've come to the realization that I don't have as much energy as the rest of the world seems to have. I am too tired at the end of the day to cram in everything I'd need to do if I were to go back to work. I made it happen before, but at a price. I sucked at my job, I sucked at parenting, and our hangers rotted in our (un-vacuumed) closet as our clothes rotated between various laundry baskets and heaps on the floor. Somehow other families (let's be honest, women) manage to do it all. I don't know how. I admire them. I would like to be them. But if I have the luxury to choose between getting it all but sucking at it, or picking one and doing well, then I pick hanging out with my daughter. Enter: endless popsicle cleaning. I am not bored. I am aware that plenty of people would be, but it takes all kinds, right? I am settling into the fact that I am not so deep and think-y as I thought I was. And I get I'm lucky to have the choice. It's been the right one.

Enough about ME. How are you, blog-land?

Conundrum

I have a decision to make in the next 24 hours. To go back to work or not to go back to work, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to brave the slings and arrows of outrageous Excel spreadsheets or take arms against a sea of laundry; and by opposing end them? To die: from lack of sleep.*

But hey! Paycheck! That'd be nice.

Meanwhile I'm enjoying the heck out of the summer. Miss Thang and I went for coffee this morning. Specifically, I sipped a decaf latte in the shade while she tried to eat bird feathers off the patio floor. Extra protein, yes? She wouldn't eat any of the bits of breakfast burrito I offered her. Picky eating is a fickle thing.

We've also started dance classes, which are a hoot. I realize that by dressing her in the most ridiculous, gauzy pink thing that Target sells and forcing her to learn to curtsey she will inevitably refuse to wear anything but black and brood in dark places where there is no blasphemous dancing, but right now I'm bigger so I get to call the shots. And outfits. And it is so freakin' cute it's worth it.

Also, my friends are all having babies again. We are not on that train, but I am super excited for everyone who will someday get to dress their darling in gauzy pink things that will set the groundwork for their wee one's future therapy sessions. It's really super fun after they get past the squishy, cry-y, don't-really-sleep phase. (And a special, huge welcome to Miss EAS. Love you and your parents very much!)

Sincerely,

PiG

* So, so sorry for the uber besmirching of your quote Mr. Shakespeare.

Hello Again

Ooopsie, sorry to leave things hanging with that last bah-humbug-y post. Short-ish version of the story, my friend had to cancel on a very precious girls night out sans kiddos, and The Funasaurus was headed out to Ruby Tuesdays with Miss Thang to meet a friend. He offered that I should join them, but I declined. I am usually flexible, but I had my sights set on cozy wine bar, not loud, obnoxious greasy chain restaurant. (No offense to Ruby Tuesday-lovers. It's just that restaurant sucks.) So I stayed at home and nursed a bottle of Chardonnay (and by "nursed" I mean "KILLED") on the front porch and read my copy of Let's Panic About Babies, which is awesome. Also, if I lent that book to you in a drunken fit (another night) can you give it back? I didn't mean to lend it out. Drinking makes me uncharacteristically generous.

I got over myself though, and have been having more fun, which is perhaps why I haven't posted. Enjoying life apparently leaves less time for blogging. I took Miss Thang on a trip to visit relatives and friends back east all by m'self. It wasn't as hard as everyone made it out to be, although I certainly missed my Funasaurus, and you can bet I all but threw the baby at him when I saw him at the airport. Turns out eleven days of being completely and totally out of your comfort zone and routine is about four days too long for my toddler. Who'd have guessed? (Hint: not this superstar mom.) Otherwise, though, trip = pretty awesome, and Miss Thang, all things considered (including ironically-said superstar mom) handled herself exceptionally well.

Now we're back, busting into summer, battling over the kiddie pool, sunscreen, and wake-up times. Turns out I suck because I won't let her get up with the sun at 5:15 A-freakin-M every day. WASTING PRECIOUS SUMMERTIME, THANKS MOOOOOM.

Ahhh, good to be back.

That Is All

At least I'm not at fucking Red Robin.

Explanation to come when I'm more friendly and less drunk.

This May Have Just Happened

I am tired and sitting at the computer when I should be asleep. But I don't want to go downstairs and deal with the dishes and cat litter and everything else that needs dealing with before I can sleep. I passively had the thought that I could eat something dessert-y as another means of procrastinating the bedtime routine, and then I thought about how tired I was, and how my skin is really breaking out and I thought, "You know, chocolate doesn't even SOUND good right now. Honestly what sounds better than any chocolate is a nice tall glass of water and a handful of raspberries. That would be so much more satisfying."

Then I realized some hippie demon must have taken over my brain and I dove headfirst into the bag of pastel-colored M&Ms that we are/were saving for Miss Thang's Easter basket.

Where I Provide the W(h)ine

It's been kind of a shitty week, starting with a stomach virus that someone aptly named "Mr. Toad's Wild Ride Through My Digestive Track." Add the bonus element of a toddler who is going through a bit of a clingy phase and insists on sitting on your (my) lap at all times, including the toilet. That's fun.

(I re-read these sentences sometimes and have to wonder if I'm trying to drive away any remaining readership.)

Today I was finally feeling better, so I took Miss Thang for a walk. Halfway to the park, I bent to see if she was o.k., and my phone jumped JUMPED out of my fucking pocket and hopped like a cheap-ass Samsung Easter Bunny into a waste water drain. Naturally last night we had our annual April snowstorm, so the melt had raised the current in said drain, and my phone is so very, very gone.

I kept it together until I got home. Facebook should reunite me with most of the contacts I had in that phone. What is killing me is the loss of a couple of photos and videos. (Well, hundreds of photos and videos, but a few in particular.) I would describe them here, but it will only make me cry again, and I am out of ice cream.

Tangentially: Colorado now carries Blue Bell ice cream! Happily, my stomach has recovered enough from the flu that I ate a pint to assuage my heartache.

I am clearly in a foul mood, but I am sick of seeing that last post. So, here are some unrelated things to take up some space.

New verbiage in our house:

Torny: One part horny, one part tired, full-on feeling of torn-ness. Sadly, The Funasaurus and I often fall on different sides of the torny coin. But it's fun to talk about it in stupid married people code!

MOON! ELMO!: Brought to you by Miss Thang, talking about her favorite YouTube clip. Skip to 1:09. Now imagine me and Miss Thang getting our MOONELMO on.

Things I Do That I Did Not Think I Would Ever Do Pre-Daughter:

1) Share my ice cream

2) Inspect someone else's poop

3) MOONELMO dance sober

4) Fear six-year-old boys and their un-looking-where-they're-going ways

5) And, you know, let someone else wear the tiara around here

Setting the Bar Low

Uhg. I just went back and re-read that last post. It came off a lot more my-kid's-leg-may-be-broken,-but-hey-at-least-I'm-pretty! than I meant it to. I was going more for an I'm-trying-not-too-be-too-Debbie-Downer-here, but I think that got lost in translation. There's a large margin of error in my brain these days.

I was tempted to delete it, but I'm weirdly compulsive about leaving the blog ALONE once something is posted. It feels like cheating to go back and edit once I've decided to share things with the world. So I am telling myself that post is what I get to look back on, once I get back in my groove (I suppose that assumes I was ever once in a groove to begin with) and can measure just how far I've come. Baby, I sincerely hope you'll go a long way from that.

In happier news, Miss Thang just got a new friend today. Welcome to the world, little Baby B! I KNEW, KNEW, KNEW you were a girl. And I can't wait to see the little woman you become. We love you already.

Never Been Great at Balancing

The good news is: no bones appear to be broken. The bad news is I had a very I-suck-as-a-mom-week, wherein we had to make a little venture over to the local pediatric urgent care after Miss Thang had a little mishap on the playground. The other bad news is I don't think human x-rays are going to be any cheaper than feline x-rays. I am quick buying chocolate now before I get the bill, which will hopefully sustain me through paying off the bill. (Or, at least, through Saturday.) Also, I have learned my daughter is way tougher than I am. For that, I am eternally grateful.

Um. What else. I've decided to have a good body image. This may or may not be the result of some serious, Glamour Magazine-reading-taken-to-heart fueled by extreme anxiety and chardonnay. This is a good alternative to Ambien, no? With that: I am feeling pretty hot. I am skinnier than I was pre-pregnancy via exactly no exercise. I credit breastfeeding, genetics, and dumb luck. My boobs are smaller, which is actually a good thing, because it means I can buy shirts that actually fit the rest of my torso. I am well past 30 and have had a baby, which means I have given myself permission to stop caring about a tiny bit of not-flat-belly. I am not planning on being on a Mardi Gras float or participating in a wet t-shirt contest in Daytona over spring break, that was never really my scene even pre-30 and pre-baby. Given that it's winter, I will go ahead and let people assume that I have fabulous abs underneath this yummy sweater and turtleneck. Also I'm wearing skinny jeans. Because I am not ever going to wear mom jeans. Ever.

Also, I sing better than I ever have, I credit thousands of verses of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and "Down" by Jay Sean, because those are Miss Thang's two favorite songs. She sings along to both. Seriously, toddler "DOWN DOWN!" is the cutest rendition of that song ever. I need to get a video posted....

So that's the yin-yang of my week. Paragraph 1: I suck, Paragraph 2/3: I rock. Also, still not great at technology.

Bisous.

If I Clean Does That Mean It's Spring?

I just went through my old blog roll (does one still call it such a thing? Am I dating myself as a blogger of 2007?) and did a little cleaning. My very strict decision-making process involved two criteria:

1) Do I still read the blog?

2) Has this person posted in the past year? / Do I even know this person outside of the blogosphere? (Again with the dated blog-talk.)

Almost everything I got rid of fell under #2. I'm happy to re-add a blog if it starts up again. I just wanted things to look tidier on this page. Are they tidy?

Who am I kidding, I don't really have a tidy bone in my body. But since I'm trying to stage my little comeback, I thought I'd get rid of some dead weight. Blog-a-karmic-burden or something. See? New blog lingo. I believe that one hasn't even been Twittered yet.

Speaking of, though, I do think social media has reached it's tipping point, and the world of blogs, Facebook, Twitter, and everything else the kids are doing these days is going to get a little slower but smarter. I think the inane, every-40-second-update-on-my-state-of-boredom is on its way out. (A princess can hope, anyway.) I've seen some good blogs fall away, but more of the rough ones are gone, so that was a worthwhile trade-off. My Facebook feed has slowed way down, partly due to my finally discovering how to block fucking Farmville updates, but also because of less boredom updates: see above. I haven't really been able to get into Twitter, so I can't speak to that, but I'm guessing people are getting a little stricter about who they are choosing to follow, rather than trying to keep up with everybody in the world re-tweeting whatever Perez Hilton has to say today.

At least, I have. I've all but quit Twitter, but sometimes one or two friends say something funny on there so I try to go in and check every other week or so. And I only check from my phone. While I'm pontificating, I think smart phones are the only things saving Twitter.

Thus I spake.

Meanwhile I have reintroduced chardonnay to my lifestyle. You were so missed, old friend. You may also be the reason that I could give a hoot about Twitter anymore (damn buttons are so damn small on my phone) but make me want to write again. Clearly I have some work to do, but you have to start somewhere, right?

...

Am I allowed to drink in a socially acceptable way before 5:00 if all of my writing has to occur over Miss Thang's naptime?

Rah Rah Veteranarian!

Clearly I check my own blog a lot. Didn't even realize that last post had a missing link. (For, what, two months? whoopsies.) 'Tis fixed! Makes a lot more sense now. I like how I replaced writing with linking to mildly humorous YouTube videos for a while there. That's kind of cheating.

What? No, this is totally different. It's informative.

So, I've been struggling with writing because I don't really know what to write about except leaky toddler noses and strong opinions on car seat brands (not really), but I don't really want to be a mommy blogger, so I just quit blogging altogether. Also I was a little tired and having trouble finding uninterrupted computer time. My keyboard responds not so well to juice and markers, it turns out.

Lo, Tatum once again saves the day for all of us by reverting to his goat-like tendancies and eating a rubber band, thus necessitating an emergency surgery one fateful Tuesday night and giving me lots to cry about as well as hey! Non-baby blog fodder! Once I wiped away the tears, received the bill, wiped away a shit-ton more tears, and got the 30-some staples removed from his belly, I felt I had recovered enough to share the story.

So. That was kind of the story. Kitty intestines = not big enough for rubber bands. Take note. Also, cats get depressed when forced to wear a cone for two weeks and are prohibited from running and jumping (Let's see YOU try to keep a cat from running and jumping for a fortnight. It involves sedative drugs and MAGIC and possibly tape.) The sweet part of this otherwise-melodramatic story is that Miss Thang is truly near and dear to Tatum's heart, because he finally purred for the first time since he was taken to the kitty hospital once he got home and Miss Thang was allowed her first supervised visit to his little quarantined area, and got all up in his face and said "HI!"

I'm just the one who brought him his favorite food at the cat hospital after surgery, and sat by his drugged up head, and left my coat for him to snuggle in, despite the fact that it was sub-zero temperatures outside. Whatev. He loves my baby. That is a mother's love. I'm not even jealous he purred for her first. (much.)

So the story has a happy ending, Tatum appears to be back to his normal self. Miss Thang continues to love on him. I continue to love on them both, as well as Sugar and The Funasaurus. (Who lost a bunch of weight last year and has kept it off and looks hawt, btw.)

I don't get the patio set I had my eye on, they aren't giving away midnight x-rays and cat surgeries these days. ... Actually... now that I'm adding it up... I don't get several patio sets. Blerg. But it was worth it. Our odd little family is happily together again, and the cats can just watch us eat picnic style on a plastic tablecloth all summer. It'll be easier to wash up, anyway.

Kisses

It's funny because it's true.

Of course, I am currently not writing a novel so much as putting postage stamps on crookedly on our Christmas cards. How does everyone else in the world manage to get them on straight? Seriously, am I the only person who cannot get two straight lines to go parallel without a ruler/help from a Funasaurus?

hola

Hi! I realize I'm probably writing into the void at this point... I have started to write dozens of posts (seriously), because schtuff keeps happening that makes me think "OMG I HAVE TO BLOG ABOUT THAT, SOMEONE MUST BENEFIT FROM THIS a) sleep deprivation b) poor choice of words to use in front of my in-laws c) completely failed attempt at using make-up and/or my rasor d) rash-inducing incident involving a belt and what appeared to be just a pretty leaf," but a certain little princess-in-training always seems to sense when I am about to indulge in something other than diaper-changing, and foils any internet-ing attempts by moi.

That said, I am making time right now to tell you that I slept on my stomach for the first time in a year and a half. It was orgasmically awesome.

Candle in the Water...OR...I Am Busy Expressing Myself in Cliches These Days

I burn my candle at both ends,

It will not last the night.

But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends,

It gives a lovely light.

-Edna St. Vincent Millay

Or, as The Funasaurus put it, if I've got one foot in two different pools, I can't swim in either of them.

Thus, via extremely overworked cliche, I am here to tell you I'm quitting my job for a little bit to be a full-time mom. Also maybe to sleep a little bit, but I am trying not to get too far ahead of myself.

I'm excited, even though it's a big leap of faith, and I am not very prone to either leaping or faith-ing. I am just loving this kiddo so much, and I don't feel like I'm ever really getting to give her all the attention and time that I want because I'm always so stressed about work. Also not sleeping. Also I miss seeing The Funasaurus.

The plan is to continue to do some freelance work for my employer so that I can keep up with what's going on, and hopefully rejoin my team a little later down the road. Who knows, but for now I am just ready to hang out with Miss Thang without worrying about what she's up to while I quick try to finish one more email. (At least, work email! Muahahahaha)

T minus two weeks and two days.

Shakespeare Sass-ified

Othello




Hamlet




Romeo & Juliet





And it's not Shakespeare, but still awesome because something about The Giving Tree always bothered me, and I believe this YouTube parody sums it up perfectly, if crassly:



Oh crap, I just realized it's cutting off the right edge of these videos. I highly suggest following the link to YouTube to see the whole thing. So worth it.

Baby Travels and Rap

Hi! I am hoping I still have a reader or two. Seems a little dusty around here. There may be some big changes in store, which would lead to me having a little more time to write. I’ll post more details once the decision’s been made.

Meanwhile I am discovering just many things about my personality have changed since I became a mom. I have more patience than I thought I would. I need a helluv a lot less sleep than I thought I would. Tangentially, I am willing to scream like Tarzan in my vehicle to keep from falling asleep at the wheel. (I am not driving much these days, until we get the sleep-thing figured out.) Most shocking of all: I like an Eminem song.

WHAT?

I have begrudgingly appreciated the fact that the guy can be a talented poet ever since he appeared on the obnoxious rap scene. (As opposed to my beloved not-obnoxious rap scene. It’s a fine line, sometimes.) However, I have always thought the dude was a whiney douche bag with a shrill, grating voice more suited to punk; which happens to be a genre I have never ever ever liked. Ever.

Yet suddenly I’m in the car last week nodding along to a catchy tune before I realize: a) I’m not asleep! SUPER! And b) holy crap. It’s Eminem and I don’t hate it. He has a new song out about addiction recovery or whatever, [“I’m Not Afraid”] blah, he’s been whining about his life since he started his career, but there’s a nice melody, the chorus is pop-ily dark (which, I realize, is like saying something is kitten-ly sinister), and I don’t know why but I am loving on this line:

I’m strong enough to go to the club
Or the corner pub and lift the whole liquor counter up
‘Cause I’m raising the bar

Well done, Marshall, well done. Now be a dear and tell Green Day to follow your lead, won’t you?
In Miss Thang news: we survived a very hectic trip back east. But she got to meet her great-grandmother, which made me (and her, and great-grandmother) crazily happy, so it was worth it. Despite the flight, the incorrectly installed carseat, the late nights, the complete lack of schedule and thus lack of sleep, the lack of oil in our car, the three-hour trek into Virginia to be eaten alive by mosquitoes, the pacing outside in a thunderstorm because, ho ho, the patrons of the country club apparently do not appreciate screaming, overtired babies, and the power outages in 90 degree heat with 100% humidity. So worth it.

The Funasaurus was back in Colorado (in air conditioning, nonetheless) for the last half of our trip, working some long hours, and I feel I have been fairly explicit in my desire to never travel without him again.

Baby! And Also Me-Stuff

Welcome EBW #2. I am so very happy you’re here. You’re very, very lucky to have been born into such a wonderful family.

In more personal news…I played hooky about two weeks ago. Maybe it was three. I don’t know, for some reason time is spinning out of control these days, and I haven’t even licked the wrong side of a mushroom. (That I know of. I did manage to locate a missing book of stamps while basically unconscious the other night, apparently I remembered where it had fallen while I was sleeping, so after a 4:00 AM feeding I went and retrieved it…although did not remember doing such a thing right away when I woke up in the morning, and spent a while pondering stamp gnomes before getting a very dark mental picture of kneeling in a nursing bra and feeling around under the coffee table at unreasonable-o’clock AM. It’s possible I also consumed something that would cause an acceleration in space-time, I just don’t remember.) The point is, two-to-three weeks ago there was an eye in the midst of a crazy work storm, it was a Wednesday, I had nothing to do (despite having been up working until 3:00 AM the night before…which gave me about an hour’s sleep before aforementioned feeding) so I said fuck it, and gathered my goggles and skis and went skiing.

Of course, by the time I made this decision, I had about four hours until our nanny was supposed to leave. So I drove quickly, which was freeing in and of itself, I don’t drive fast when there’s an infant car seat in the backseat, raced onto the mountain, and got in about three and half good runs before I had to race back to my car and drive an hour and a half to get home. Happily, coming home is downhill, and I didn’t get stuck in any traffic. Shortest epic ski day ever. It was glorious. And my streak of skiing pretty much every year of my life, minus those early few, is intact.

I have been reluctant to post this because I worry about co-workers finding it. Then I realized that if they found this, they would probably consider the hour at which I turned in my work the “night” before, and agree that a ski day was a logical ying to that yang.

Miss Thang is good, I didn’t get any takers on the offer to expound upon her pooping habits, which is a shame, since I don’t know how to talk about much else these days. Miss Miss is cruising right along, not quite able to let go of our hands, but already trying to run. It’s basically the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Her balance needs a little work, but I think that’s partially due to her head. It’s proportionally quite large compared to the rest of her, so I think she’s just top-heavy. She gets that from her Uncle Chico. Hopefully she’ll grow to fit her head, just like he did. And hopefully she will never grow a prickly mustache, just like he did.

Everyone I know, minus me and my darling Funasaurus who has managed to shed an insane amount of weight anyway, recently, ran the Boulder Boulder this year. Or, if they did not run it, they are training to run something else impressive. I continue to sit around and whine about exhaustion while eating ice cream. It makes me a little sad, I used to run all the time. (Well. Run-ish. Moved my legs in a slightly frantic walk-y way, anyway.) Now I have no muscles, and a bit of extra skin. I would like to work on that, but it is a daunting prospect, getting back into such a habit, especially when there is a new gelato place within walking distance of my home. Does it count as exercise if I am snarfing Nutella-flavored ice cream while I stroll at a bisk-ish pace?

Awesomeness

I cannot even explain how awesome this is.

Sorry for the slacking, work has been kicking my ass.

Because I have nothing fabulous to tell you about (unless you are interested in the color and consistency of my child's poop? Yes? Email me. I will write you a novella, I have much to say on that subject) I will instead direct you to some other recent awesomeness that I've discovered.

The Rejectionist [heart]

Rhyme, Reason, or None of the Above [Rock on, L!]

Tavi [Sometimes I hate her just a little bit for being more self-aware and eloquent at fourteen than I am at thirtyshmhshm, but mostly I think she's awesome.]

Post Script: Read Tavi's entry about Terry R. post at your own peril. As a vaguely feminist, modern woman, I have always harbored quite a bit of anger towards the porn industry. As a mother, I literally got sick reading that post, and could only think about putting a blanket around that girl's shoulders and telling her I would personally hunt down that vile man and hurt and humiliate him in a way that would never allow him to do the same to another young girl. Then I cradled my own child to sleep in my arms for the first time in a while. It is still haunting me.

On a lighter note, without trying to jinx it, I think I managed to salvage my strawberry plants despite this week's snowstorm. Yay for container gardening! The produce may never be big, but it also got to spend a cozy evening in our balmy living room whilst the snowflakes swirled madly on the other side of the window.

You Tell Me

I'm not one for conspiracy theories...but I kind of think the makers of the Snuggie have bought my horoscope writting company. Check out my horoscope for today:

If it makes you feel warm, snuggly and as well taken care of as can be, you need to try it -- even if it makes you feel faintly ridiculous at the same time. It may lead to an unexpected purchase, but that is okay. You're after quality, not quantity, and you definitely won't settle for anything less than what you need. It shouldn't be a major effort for you.

Exactly what else am I supposed to get from that? I may not be a vegetarian, but even I cannot justify a mink coat anymore.

Oooh ooh ooh

Want.

Hoping the Future Will Consist of More Than Diapers

So, world. I am glad you have kept turning! Life is going well, Miss Thang gets cooler and more engaged in her world every day, and I am slowly returning to parts of my own life that are not directly related to Miss Thang’s survival. I went on my first work trip, and while I missed Miss Thang desperately, I did a) drink wine b) sleep several consecutive hours in a row for TWO WHOLE NIGHTS, OMG, and I felt like I had chugged an entire pot of coffee I was so AWAKE the next morning, but without the jitters. It was awesome. Also reassuring to discover that being a mother has not, in fact, made me completely idiotic so much as exhaustion has. It’s cure-able! Hypothetically speaking. My kid’s now teething. That’s a barrel full of insomnia.

I also went to book club last night and stayed the whole time, and wow, it’s nice to have friends who exist outside of the internets. (Not that you aren’t all lovely. You are.) There was a lot of talk about living and growing up and whatnot, and the things you dream about doing and the things you actually do, and it’s nice to see that in our small group of 30-something white women, we’re fairly diverse, at least in regards to where we are in life. Some are starting families. Some are staring months-long treks into Alaska. Some just got back from Operation Smiles tours in India. Some are starting new jobs, enjoying new haircuts, and raw diets. Personally, I was enjoying the leftover Easter candy while listening to all of this.

I fluctuated between feeling nostalgic for a time when I traveled like that, and feeling exhausted thinking about going anywhere farther than the grocery store. I have hibernated all winter with my baby, protecting her from scary viruses named for barnyard animals and The Wind, which is basically Miss Thang’s nemesis. She does not like a breezy day. At all. But at some point I feel as though we will need to face the world again. I’m going to have to trust her immune system a little bit if I want to go rent a house on the French countryside some summer, and she’s going to have to deal with The Wind if she wants to come with me.