Sort of a bummer day today. More pain, less patience for it.

Have you ever missed a step coming down the stairs? I dropped off an application at a local elementary school for Ruby this morning (everyone has to “apply” for the 3-year-old programs in DC, because there aren’t enough of them), which happens to be right next to the private preschool she currently attends. When I came out, I saw little lines of toddlers being led out of Ruby’s building (turned out it was a fire drill). I located her little flower-dy jacket in the crowd, about the time I should have been locating the step down in front of me. I came down hard on my right foot (luckily it was a stair instead of stairs), and saw stars. (Ha! I saw a star, not the stair). Now it’s just sort of a dull ache (with occasional stabbing!) as I work. I have gotten up several times to mix it up a bit, but I would recommend keeping your eyes peeled if you have this condition and you actually have to go anywhere.

I realized today (which is lending itself to the blues) that I don’t remember not being in pain. I can picture it (see myself leaping around to silly music or getting up and down the stairs quickly, or carrying large items in from Costco), but I can’t feel it. It’s a strange sensation — only knowing what the pain feels like and not being able to place the absence of it.

Must be sort of like reading this blog. Ouch! Do you remember when I talked about anything else?

Then, Shaun sent me this picture:

That would have been helpful information late last summer, I would say.

I resign myself to telling you something much more interesting tomorrow. M-kay?

Dooley Wilson, As Time Goes By

Lord, I thought solitaire and Free Cell were bad. No one has time for this little game, but it sure is fun to click around in for a bit. Note: This is for Debbie (take that, lady!) since she does check Fannfare every day.

And, speaking of Virus(es), thanks to Fussy for the gift idea — next time someone I love gets sick, I will pick them up one of these snuggle bunnies.

Statler Brothers, Flowers on the Wall

Wah.

I have big burly men working in my house, putting in a bathroom in the basement. The plan for this bathroom is to make my life easier as baby-day approaches. As it is, we have one bath on the top floor, and my office and the kitchen is on the main floor. The basement stairs are more shallow, and carpeted, and I could also easily work down there, and not have to conquer any stairs during the day.

So, what’s the problem?

WELL. One guy seems to be having bathroom issues today. As I write, he has been in the bathroom upstairs (having asked very nicely to use it, no problem there) three times, this one for about 10-12 minutes and counting. I happen to know there is a lot of Mountain Dew on the premises, as well as a recently arrived vegetarian pizza that they are eating down there. I am totally grossing myself out with each minute that ticks by. Get on outta there man!

Also, at what point do I become concerned about this person? I already don’t ever want to use my bathroom again (ew!) but that’s sadly not possible.

I’m pregnant, with a capital P-E-E.

Charlie Rich, Behind Closed Doors

All of those are options when faced with a snow day. I think we tried each one twice. What ended up being the best time was the crafting. Yes, we did many many crafts, including macaroni art, baking baking baking, and Valentines — well past the mail date.

Ruby is back in school today. She didn’t want to go, which I take as a good sign that her Dad and I were good entertainment and company. Shaun stayed home to help, which was a God-send. Even as we snuck off to our laptops every now and then to make sure we weren’t getting buried with emails and messages, Ruby got lots of attention and her family and friends will gets lots of refrigerator/magnet treasures from our day.

Ruby insisted on putting “stripes” on everyone’s “pants,” although there was not a person to be found in any of her pictures. Striped and invisible, all…

This Valentine came with an open with caution disclaimer on the envelope (we mailed some even though they would arrive late) as I didn’t want my mother to be cleaning granulated red sugar off of her wood floors until Halloween.

Voila. A St. Valentine’s explosion!

Peering over the baby belly to show Dad the spoils…

Our sugary reward.

Holla! Held together by Gluestick, the Fannings celebrate a successful wrap-up to Snow Day Number Two!

Eric Idle, Always Look on the Bright Side of Life

We’re still enjoying the highlights of last weekend, while dealing with the hysterical school closings and city-wide shut-downs that a couple inches of snow prompts in DC. We’ve been home with Ruby since Tuesday — I’ve had to be in touch with my inner Martha, my inner SuperNanny, my inner Buddha. My overwhelming thought over the last few days has been “My mother did this with four kids. My mother did this with four kids.” I wonder if the words “snow day” struck as much fear into her as it has into Shaun and me.

Sunday, before the crippling snowstorm, we met Shaun’s parents at a farm in Catlett, Virginia, to meet Moose’s brothers and sister. Moose’s parents were bred again (five years later, and still going strong!), and Shaun’s dad wants to live with one of the puppies. Moose is such a great dog — everyone who meets him wants to clone, babysit, or adopt him.

And who could argue with these little faces? I am surprised we didn’t leave with all three…

Smoooshy smoooshhhie smooch…

Ruby was enchanted…

So was Aunt Carrie…

(by the way, she’s not available either).

We claimed this little guy, and dubbed him “Vino.”

He’ll be coming home to West Virginia (my in-laws’ house) in April.

Nothing like a face-smash with a puppy to clear up any cold weather, bad feelings, or physical pain. I felt like I could run a mile after we squished them around for an hour or so.

Bob Merrill, How Much is That Doggie in the Window?

Anna Nicole Smith is still dead today. She was a sympathetic figure, I thought — I always rooted for her. Now they can’t figure out how she died.

I think it was TrimSpa and Pop Rocks.

Vaya con Dios, lady.

U2, Mysterious Ways

It’s T minus Brr here. It’s “start the car before you go outside” cold, even if that means running outside in your slippers to get it done, and leaving the car warming while you eat breakfast. It’s so cold, that I do this even with the threat of car theft (hey, look! A running car!). In my neighborhood, this is even likely if your car is not running. And locked. And alarmed. And attached to your house with a very large chain. With a hungry Doberman and a police officer sitting inside.

I couldn’t resist the pictures below of how my two favorite creatures weather the weather. Ruby layers (with lamb). Moose burrows.

Stay warm, travelers!

Irving Berlin, I’ve Got My Love To Keep Me Warm

Maggie over at MightyGirl posted a pregnancy ticker — a cute countdown. I designed my own, and then looked at hers with envy. 8 days left. Add a 0 to that, and you’ve got me!

Ouch.

I am blessed. I am blessed. I am blessed. Limp. Snort. (thud).

Unknown, The Ants Go Marching

Hey, guess what I’m doing? (I had to join Agatha on the long list of naked men, right?)

Olivia Newton John, Loving Arms

Home again, home again, jiggety jig.

Not without a lovely plane ride under my belt either. I read a whole book! Mind you, it’s only 115 pages long, and the type was a little large, but what a great afternoon!

Memories of My Melancholy Whores by Gabriel Garcia Marquez is a book that I can confidently recommend, especially if you have about two hours and you just want to be transported to another, more lyrical, beautifully staged and tragic place.

It starts: “The year I turned ninety, I wanted to give myself the gift of a night of wild love with an adolescent virgin.”

Well, then.

Whatever you think of that — you can’t help but be swept up by our charming narrator, and his Delgadina. I didn’t even take my seatbelt off or order a snack (biscotti! You get three of them!) or a drink!

I had taken my pain meds shortly before the flight took off — following my Hurculean trek to the gate (what’s with gate 3, which I was so excited about, being at the end of a hallway that starts with gate 38?). I read this amazing little book, I felt physically good, and I was sort of a-buzz with getting home to Ruby who I had not seen in three days.

I was surprised, just as the flight was wrapping up, by an overwhelming urge to turn to my neighbor and ask, “You wanna play Hangman?” After which, of course, we would have been fast friends and planned coffee dates and girls’ trips and book club meetings. Am I that grrrrr without the meds?

Thankfully we landed before I could wrap my arms around this poor gal beside me and nuzzle her cheek. Melancholy whores, indeed.

Led Zeppelin, Gallows Pole