Sounds of the Holidays

You'd think that when we got a little more time off as a family unit here at the holidays that I'd be able to keep you more updated. Not true. Dad has been demanding that I go out into the yard for hours on end. He rakes, and I squash the last of the tomatoes and chase cats into the fig tree. But at night, right before bed, we go over my lessons, and review the things I have learned of the sights and sounds of the holidays. For example . . . .

The Chambers' Church Calendar

Advent and epiphany seem more personal this year.

 

the third time exams have been an excuse for lack of updates

Folks. This indeed is the third time that we've had to say something like "oh, dad is in the midst of exams, therefore, the family is thrown into turmoil, stripped down to survival mode, and accordingly has no time for blog updates." It's true again. Dad hasn't shaved in days, and he is wearing the same jeans every day. Mom is constanly donning her sweatshirt that says 'VIRGINIA' on it - I presume that is a college, but I've never heard of it, probably because I live in a football town. Anyway, there have been many changes to document and share with you, including:

my new haircut

what I think Santa says

tantrums

and preparations for the new guest columnist that mom and dad keep telling me will be here in a few weeks. I've seen a picture of this cute new columnist, who has very rosebud-like lips, but that is all I can tell you.

So, after the Federal Income Tax and Con Law exams I'll be back.

The Artist Presently Known as B

Amy Barber told dad to tell me that my recent entries were sub-par, uninspired, and altogether, too infrequent. Get in line, sister. The B-Man sometimes has better things to do, and regardless is always expanding his horizons. As of late I have turned my hand to the physical arts, doing some collage work in the media of paper and feather. There was also some artisanal glass crafting. All of it was done under the stern and draconian tutelage of my masters at the First Pres Mother's Morning Out Art Studios. Trust me, if it is sub-standard, they won't let it pass through the narthex, much less be presented on Classic City's finest refrigerators.

Here is a picture of me at my latest gallery opening, and the pieces d'resistance are depicted below.

 

Say Hello To My Little Friend

I have made a new friend. No, it isn't my pretty mommy. She is an old friend. And it isn't the baby that I am pretty much sitting on in this picture. Though life begins in the womb, friendship comes later.

My new friend goes with me everywhere now, and accepts me for who I am. I call him TayToe. Though I haven't yet heard him talk, I think he has an Irish accent. If you want one, I think he was 39 cents a pound at Kroger.

Just a tip from the B man, who knows that money can be tight around the holidays. Who needs TMX Elmo when a potato will do the trick?


 

My Primer on Body Parts

For those of you who were a little rusty on where the teeth and head bumps are . . .

The Great Pumpkin - no explanation necessary

 

Fall Fun

There comes a time in all kids' lives where they must go to the local punkin patch and measure their cuteness against their peers. Today was my day.

Clearly, it is a good thing that I can't read. No liability. Mom, however, is a knowing conspirator.








After sitting among the picked pumpkins, I was a little disenchanted with seeing where the pre-picked pumpkins actually come from.



So I moved on to things of more obvious interest to me.

More Fall Fun

This contraption is called a corn canon. It's exactly what it sounds like. It shoots corn at high rates of speed, and it costs a dollar for the first shot, and then a dollar for the next three.

These are the targets. Having trouble seeing them?















































Welcome to Georgia.

Cousin Update

Connor sent me a few pictures to share with the world. Though we did not talk on the phone, I can tell from the pictures that, while hundreds of miles apart, we are developing in the same manner. For example:

1. We are both wearing overalls with frequency.

2. We both tend to have wet spots around the collars of our shirts.

3. We are both attached to objects that aren't really marketed as toys (I to my mom's yardstick and the occasional curtain rod, Connor to this blue webbing/dog leash/buckle thing).

4. We are both constrained by very similar looking baby gates. However, this might not be as insulting to Connor because he has been told that they are primarily for the benefit of his dogs, rather than their true purpose, which is baby control.

 

I'm back

I've been gone for a while I know, but we were out of town, the camera was on the fritz, etc, etc. Now we are back in the Classic City and anticipate being here for a while.

In the past week I've been at both my grandparents' houses. Actually it isn't 'both' because I have four grandparents. Nonetheless, I was spoiled rotten, and am now having a hard time going back to our family-wide grad student life style.

As you can see, one of my most recent pleasures was running into this Elmo doll at Yia Yia's house. It has a paci just like mine, and I feel certain that I am more deserving of the opportunity to enjoy it than Elmo is.

Don't worry Connor. "We" decided to leave it at Yia Yia's so that we could all enjoy it when we are there. 

day five twentysomething

No new pictures, for once again, the camera batteries be dead. Argh. But I'm maintaining the status quo, going to school twice a week, maintaining a constant diet of Baby Einstein and juice, and growing my hair back to its optimal length. I'm also soothing a stressed out dad in the midst of interview season, and a fatigued mom, in the midst of pregnancy season. Where would they be without me?*

The response to my new web movie has been outstanding - three people vetted it, so I think it is OK for me to put the link here.

Also, we are getting close to 8,000 hits here at the Barritt page. Look out google. Look out lonely girl.





*(the actual answer to this is probably "somewhere other than inside the house after 7 pm every single day")

Big George

Some say that I haven't really been keeping the fair weather cycling fans up to date adequately on my blog - there have been private inquiries about my feelings for the whole Landis affair, about Levi Leipheimer's move to Discovery next year, and about my dad's continually increasing fitness, speed and power. This isn't the forum to address any of those things, because they aren't really about me.

But, in a rare divergence from policy, I have to give kudos to Big George Hincapie today. He's had a rough year, crashing out in Paris-Roubaix and not really doing anything in the TdF. But today he won the US Pro in his adopted hometown of Greenville, SC, and will get to wear the stars and bars jersey for the next year. Hopefully there will be tiny replicas of said jerseys available in Greenville, and hopefully Cam and Thomas will want to send one to their friends. Wink wink. (I'm only 16 mos and 25 days, but I wear 18-24 mos. size right now).

Anyhoo, way to go George. This is the greatest thing to happen to Greenville since they built that wall around Bob Jones University.

day five fifteen - the first cut

before:



















during:
















after:

Did someone say....new shoes?

 

day five eleven - School's in forever

today is my first day of school. Sort of. It's called Mother's Morning Out and it is at the church down the street. Presumably it is going to be a lot like when mom and dad go to church on Sundays, but this time I'll be in the nursery for three hours. (For those of you who were curious, mom and dad aren't pentecostals - were they, I'd be used to being in the nursery for 3 hours). So, that means three times the goldfish and three times the juice of the normal one hour sentences I get at church. Also, it probably means three times the destruction as I throw toys and turn over bassinets for an eighth of a day.

I got new shoes for school at Target yesterday. They are sweet. Pictures should be forthcoming. Maybe after I get my first paid-for haircut this weekend.

I'll be sorry for this later

Dee Doll just mailed me this picture from the last time I was at her house.

A little explanation:

I was in the tub, relaxing, thinking how nice it would be to read The Grand Inquisitor chapter from the Brothers Karamazov again. I became myopic, and the thought became an obsession - to the point that I jumped out of the tub and pulled off every book I could lay my hands on until I found it.

I never found it. 

day four ninetytwo

Time is flying, and I have very few pictures to show for it. Mom says she took some that might be going up soon.

My paternal grandparents (Dee Doll and Papa Jim) came down and spoiled me this past weekend - took me out to eat, played with me, and all that good stuff. They were amazed at my vocabulary, or at least my understanding. They'd say "bring me the yellow ring" and I'd go pick it up and bring it to them.

Some of you may say that because I have never used the words 'bring,' 'me,' 'the,' 'yellow,' or 'ring' that this isn't really part of my vocabulary. Balderdash. I'm choosing the right time to bring them out. In that way, it's a lot like wine. Would you rather have Sutter Home or Chateau La Tour?

Exactly.

day four eightyone

Time keeps slippin away for the B-man. Summer is like that movie Groundhog Day, with each day pretty much like the rest, but for an undulating nap schedule. It's been really hot here, so we've been inside a lot. But there is a new show that I've really started to like, and miraculously, it is scheduled every day at just the point where my cabin fever is manifesting itself in raw agitation. It's called Baby Einstein. I don't know when it comes on at your house, but you should keep an eye out for it.

We do have a few pictures, though there haven't been any real pictureworthy events lately (but isn't life really lived between "events"?).

Here's me wearing the team gear while I watched Oscar Friere as he pipped Zabel at the line in yesterday's HEW Cyclassics Race in Hamburg:
















And for those of you who don't care about cycling, here is me eating beans:

















And if you find yourself with a few minutes free, give a listen to my favorite of the recent Fresh Air interviews, where you meet Darrell Scott and his dad.

day fourseventyfour - Clairvoyance

So I was looking over the blog, rereading things I've read before, just like all of my loyal readers do when they are bored and yours truly hasn't been keeping the masses entertained with new posts. So I read over to the right that I can communicate with babies in utero. Well, that was all I needed to try to find out a little more about my coming sibling.

Here's basically how it works. I take the hat that mom knit a few weeks ago - see two or three posts down - and pull it down all the way over my eyes. Then I can summon said sibling. Here is what I learned:

"At 4 1/2 inches long (head to bottom) and 3 1/2 ounces, I am about the size of an avocado. In the next three weeks, I'll go through a tremendous growth spurt, though, doubling my weight and adding inches to my length. My lower limbs are much more developed now. My head is more erect than it has been, and my eyes have moved toward the front of my head. My ears are close to their final position, too. I'm even growing toenails."

I was a bit nonplussed by that bit of information. It was so, um, impersonal. Like it came right off the internet. So I asked more pointed questions, like, "do your prefer PCs or Macs?" and "are you a boy or a girl?"

But the kid turned on me and started asking me questions, like "why won't you stop headbutting mom in the stomach?" and "why do you need brown bear, brown bear read to you six times a day?"

We are going to have some issues.

PS - speaking of my clairvoyance/summoning powers, please look back and see my post of July 1. I called that Floyd was going to win. Ha. If any of you made any money betting on this, I'd like my cut.

day four sixtynine - My Summer Reading

 

This happens to be me reading Chick on the Go. Predictable, and somewhat sentimental, but it is sort of the book equivalent of comfort food. I'm also reading:

Goodnight Gorilla - a huge book, conceptually and literally (it's like 16x20)
I Spy: Little Wheels
Baby Blessings Bible
Damn Good Dawg: The True Story of Uga VII
Let's Go Visiting
Where's My Baby
Blindness, Jose Saramago
Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do You See?
Death Comes to the Archbishop, Willa Cather (thanks Aunt Millie, it's coming back ASAP)

Anything else I should read before the hustle and bustle of fall is upon us? 

day foursixty - what is this?

I found this the other day on the kitchen table, and immediately asked mom what it was. But since my vocabulary is limited to sign language for 'light' and 'more', verbal approximations of 'bye bye', and a few animal sounds, she wasn't really understanding my question. She just got up and ran to the bathroom. I followed her in there, and lovingly slammed the toilet lid on her head, thinking she was playing a new game of hide and seek with enhanced gutteral sounds.

I never got my question answered, but I remain certain that there is some mischief afoot.

day fourfortyfive - my new angry/tough guy face

It is so hard to look tough when you're wearing a fuzzy pink hat.
Someone has to model mom's knitting for her...

day fourforty - Armageddon

OMG!!!! Just 24 hours away from my second Tour de France, the first Lanceless tour in eight years, and my world comes tumbling down. Here I had been saving my nickels and dimes (literally - I crawl into the laundry room and the dirty clothes hamper and take the coins out of mom and dad's pockets) and had been betting dilligently on MrBookmaker.com, placing all of my hopes and aspirations on Basso. I was really counting on this to pay off, maybe even to cover tuition for my first year at Williams College. Or Amherst, Chris.

And then, BAM: http://velonews.com/tour2006/news/articles/10176.0.html

This is like one of those moments you always remember. My dad was at home sick that day the space shuttle exploded (the first one). My grandparents were at school when JFK got shot. And I was walking around the living room wildly swinging a yardstick when I found out about this. (NB - the yardstick swinging was not in response to the story, swinging the yardstick is rather indicia of my own happiness and contentedness.)

Regardless, all that talk about the rising surge of American talent may come to fruition now. George Hincapie and Levi Leipheimer are definitely contenders. But if I can find anymore money between now and tomorrow's prologue, it's going on the world's fastest Mennonite, Floyd Landis.

Any other takers? Free money. Pete Rose Style.

also, as promised

 
 
 
  

as promised