Aside from an electric toothbrush embroidery hoop and lens cap I got a house.
Our bid was accepted and I'm already picking out Anthropologie resin cabinet pulls for my new 50's kitchen. Unfortunately this is about all we can afford to do to the house right now. Who cares though? We got a cool house that we can call our own.
Are you wondering about Harlan and the embroidery hoop/electric toothbrush/ lens cap/ Yahoo Serious hair-do photo? All of a sudden he is into everything. It's a constant trail of destruction. His favorite new toys are my large embroidery hoop, which he throws over his neck, and my electric toothbrush. I have to buy him his own (toothbrush, not hoop). I grabbed my camera to take a photo and of course he had to nab the lens cap before running off with all three, only to drop the lens cap and pick up my sandal which he then threw in the toilet. This morning I ran around trying to get everything together to go meet some friends in the playground and I couldn't find Harlan's left sandal anywhere (note to self: buy more than one pair of shoes for Harlan). We put on his too-small sneakers and left. I finally found the missing shoe this evening in my top desk drawer which is usually secured with a safety thingamajiggy. I must have left it unlocked. Apparently Harlan's cohorts are in the same phase. I saw my friend Kara today who is 7 months pregnant, and her son Arthur who is about a week apart from Harlan in age. The rascal had her chasing him all over the street as he opened people's gates, pulled dirt out of people's planters and dumped it on their front steps, and then ran into the middle of three deaf guys having a heated discussion in sign-language on their front lawn. The guys all thought it was pretty cute and so did I, but I was in awe of Kara's mellowness as she carried him over her swollen belly, kicking and screaming. She didn't even raise her voice or seem annoyed as she said, "No hitting buddy". I feel like she's an angel and I'm going to turn into a crazy Jewish mother running around screaming at my kid every time he gets a crumb on the floor (O.K. Not even close to reality, but I just feel that way). I think I am ready to sign up for anger management half the time.
You know what's great about having our own house? No more crazy landlord. Oh, did I tell you the latest in the Landlord Chronicles? Months back I ordered a year's worth of Croq zines from Heather in Portland. A month went by and I never received them. I e-mailed her and she had mailed them Priority Mail with delivery confirmation and it was signed for. Neither of my neighbors would steal my mail, nor would they sign for my mail and lose it somehow. I was stumped. Heather was generous enough to send me new copies. FF to last week, I walk in the vestibule and what should I see but the original package. According to my neighbors their months-old lost packages showed up the same day. We can only deduce that Landlord had been signing for our packages and just keeping them in his basement apartment because he was too lazy to walk them up the front steps to our entryway. Classic.
One more bragger shot: This is Harlan in his new, super soft Baby Beehinds bamboo and cotton diaper.