Just put one in here.
I suspect if we did that with Mooch -- who is a little smelly and in need of a wash -- he'd still turn up in pictures taken miles and miles away from his scrubdown.
And for the record, still here. Still pregnant. Did get to the ribbing on the sock and have decided to do something useful, like wash baby clothes and make strawberry jam. We shall see how far I get.
Mooch is the Zelig of cats. And I haven't the slightest idea how he does it. He's huge, to begin with, and mostly white. And loud. And did I mention the huge? Despite his shortcomings, he somehow manages to show up in pictures when I know for a fact that he isn't even in the house.
Witness exhibit A:
which was taken on the Diva's birthday. I know that I had just chased him outside and, yet, there he is, under the table.
Exhibit B:
Ditto on the just having chased outside -- in fact I could swear that he was on the other side of the sliding glass doors -- because if anyone likes packing peanuts more than the Diva, it is the Mooch.
I can't quite figure out if I'm losing it (always possible) or if he is the cat who walks through walls. Must go through other photos for evidence.
Until a verdict is reached, the Diva, on the day before her third birthday. Shame she's not cute or anything. 
New column at Saucy, this one is about Christopher Kimball's bow tie. Sort of.
Most pregnant women feel compelled to clean or organize or nest when the end is in sight. I, however, feel compelled to get my sock to a point where I've turned the heel and am only doing the ribbing, because ribbing is something I can do no matter how tired/sore/distracted I may be. This is odd, yes?
Laura Miller takes on Dianetics. Heee:
Alas, it is not only individual words that can cause confusion. Perfectly clear words can be dragooned into sentences so grammatically torturous and incoherent that any meaning once inhabiting those words runs screaming from the wreckage.
Which reminds me of my college chum/roommate Trish, who once announced in an upper-level English class at the alma mater that she did "understand the words, just not in that particular order." I don't think the subject was L. Ron, however.
I'm not certain how much further this kid can drop and still be considered *in* my body. But I digress.
Also, Neil Gaiman, whose blog you should be reading, has discovered that if you simply google "Neil," you get him. The discussion touched off a certain Steve to start a campaign for better namesakes. I'm not certain whether or not to join. I mean, I could do worse. And I'm a fan of #3. So I think I'll stick for now.
-- The Diva's 3rd birthday was yesterday and a good time was had by all, especially the Diva. Pictures are forthcoming, once I manage to download/process them. There was (green, as requested) cake. There were gifts, one of which was a five gallon aquarium with purple gravel and pink fish. (No, I have no idea why she is obsessed with pink. Purple will do in a pinch, but pink rocks her world.) Scott is working on the twice annual toy churn, which is where we go through all of her crap and decide what to keep, what to store and what to donate. The best thing about the churn is that older toys get moved to the tops of the heaps, where they can be noticed and played with again.
-- (WARNING: Gynecological discussion follows) According to my OB, who I just saw, we may be going through past churned toys for those that are appropriate for infants a little sooner than expected. Technically, my due date is July 30. According to today's visit, which was the first of the internal poking about visits, I am a "soft and squishy" four centimeters and Nemo's head is in the perfect spot. In her words, it probably won't happen tomorrow, but that it probably will during the next two weeks. I don't know, tho. With the Diva I walked around at 3 cm for four weeks. We shall see. Still, it is motivation to get my ever-expanding ass in gear and get some stuff done.
-- Finally, a random observation. On Friday, I was in line at the grocery store and realized that I was right behind the woman whose office is next to mine. She teaches nutrition at SUCO -- my office is inexplicably in the Human Ecology building -- and we got to chatting about our respective summers. As we chatted, I noticed that she was buying a watermelon, a roasted chicken, organic skim milk and fresh cherries. Then I looked at my purchases, which were just behind hers: dark chocolate Klondike Bars, gummy fruit snacks, potato chips, lunchmeat and fresh cherries (there was a special). I wanted to explain that we usually do much better, nutrition-wise, but that we were packing for a picnic. Really. I live on bran and fresh produce (and ice cream and snacks and ... ) And then I realized that she probably gets that all of the time, like doctors always get folks apologizing for not exercising continuously. Still, I had grocery guilt. I blame the heat.
Quickly, this month's column from The Daily Star, this one is about vomit.
Finally saw all of the Real World Austin premiere. While I don't care about the kids in the house and their drama (and here's a hint, kiddies, stop drinking, because you clearly don't know how to handle the demon rum), the video of the city makes me feel all gushy inside. It's been too long since I've strolled through Zilker, had some gingerbread pancakes at Kerby Lane or a 'rita on Trudy's deck. Until I can get my ass down there (preferably in, like, February or pre-SXSW March before summer starts again), I'll have to keep watching the show, simply because there are more fond memories associated with Austin than I'd imagined. I mean, I liked living there, but did know how nostalgic the footage would make me feel. Life is weird like that, eh?
One of the perks of being this pregnant is that I lack the will to do anything but knit. It helps that there's not all that much I need to do right now -- summer is pretty slow. This isn't a good thing. If I ain't working, I ain't gettin' paid. I'm working on some small projects, but I can coast for a bit on past income, until things pick up again in late August. At which point, with the new baby and lots of work, I'll be back to complaining about being too busy. I'm like that.
Still, I'm getting a lot of knitting done while watching waaaaaay too much tennis.
Finished one pair of socks:
Yes, I know there's only one in this picture. Trust me. There are two. The second one looks just like this, but a mirror image. I don't know that I'll ever knit large-gauge cotton socks again. I find the stretching bothersome. Still, it was a worthwhile experiment.
And, yes, I am one of those people who never saw the point of knitted socks -- after all, they are pretty cheap to buy and come in a wide range of fun colors, designs and styles. Then I knitted a pair from Koigu on a whim and have become an addict. So much so that I've already started yet another pair.
These are Opal 75 wool/25 poly, which means they will wash and still be pretty sturdy. I have no idea what this colorway is called, nor am I certain if it should be making more of a pattern. I've searched the site and can't find a darn thing about this yarn. Of course, I also don't know that much German. And what little German I do know is limited to how to catch a train and the name of the engineer's top button, which actually has a different name from all of his other buttons. Ah, Germany. (FWIW -- the ball band says Farbe 7 and Partie 22.)
I am also working on the Nemo blankie.
In the bottom shot, you can see the peonies, which just came out in full force. I'd like to take credit for them, but they were planted by the house's previous owner. All I did was not yank them out. Other than that, they seem to thrive on neglect, like any good plant should.
The Tick is back on the airwaves and there was much rejoicing. In my house, at least. Spooooooooon!
And in the funniest story of the day (perhaps of the week, but the week is not yet out), Teresa Nielsen Hayden blogs about ice pops and PR. Can you just imagine the smell? And the bees?