I just turned in an essay entitled Andrew Jackson: Our First Redneck President.
I hope the professor has a sense of humor.
"It wasn't that he was lonely, not such that he would ever admit to himself, nor that he was cognizant, on a regular basis, of the absence of sex, but he did find himself becoming more attentive in the proximity of public pools, tanning salons, and dance studios."
Rose is having a bit of diaper rash, so after changing her I put her on the floor to air-dry. She was doing fine, so I stepped into the bathroom to pee. Door was open, I could hear her, by turning my head I could see her.
Her giggles turned to cries, I turned around to see her... rolling around in a pile of her own poo...
We have now had a bath, quilt and toys are going into the wash, and she is giggling again.
I'll be in midtown Manhattan most of this week.
Are you nearby? Want to talk, drink coffee, see the baby?
Jess, Rose, and I went to a Christmas party yesterday where I barely knew one other person. There was some interesting conversation, a great old ramshackle house, and eggnog thick like foamy pudding floating on a sea of rum. Seriously, I was chewing through alcoholic meringue. Yum!
Oh, and the parrots were cool, too.