love means...

...taking one in the eye

Updates coming soon.

kwik-e-mart, eh?

mmm...donuts

Kevin and Peter outside the Kwik-E-Mart

Yay! Mountain View is one of 11 cities with a 7-Eleven-turned-Kwik-E-Mart. You gotta love movie merchandising when it's this fun.

Despite the rumors of it being super crowded, we waited until a Saturday afternoon to go. Luckily, it was pretty empty when we arrived. (When we left, though, a line was forming at the door. I had to leave to get my wallet from the car, and then had to bribe the security guard to get back in.)

I was kind of surprised by how much had been changed in the store. Sure, the changes were all cosmetic: character cutouts, signs promoting the Kwik-E-Mart, donuts, squishees, Buzz Cola, and Krusty Os. But there was a lot more than we'd expected. Plus, you gotta love the exterior!

Peter stayed asleep the entire time we were there, which probably was nice as it allowed us to extend our stay. It also saved him from what surely would have been an entry in the Annals of Horrible, Terrible, No-Good Parenting, as I can envision myself giving Peter his first taste of Squishee. Oh, well, at least he can say he was there.

Tangent Thanks to this month's Backpacker, my interest in Glacier National Park has grown exponentially, leading to this conversation:

Amy: We should go to Glacier soon.
Kevin: I know, it will be melted soon.
Amy: I wonder if seeing a glacier will be something Peter can brag about. Like, in 65 years he can say (in old man voice): "I saw a glacier once, sonny."

Kwik-E-Mart

54 photos

pyschic powers at work

For a while I've harbored a suspicion I'm somewhat psychic. Kevin and I often say that I "know things." Usually, these "things" are pretty lame.

Here's one that's not so lame:

During Peter's early morning feeding, I had the sudden realization that the photos hanging over his bassinet would be pretty dangerous in the event of an earthquake. I never really think about earthquakes, even though there is at least one a month out here. (It might be different if I'd actually ever felt one.) Earthquake safety has never, not once, figured into my thought process.

Potential deathtrap.

A few hours later, while talking with my parents, I learned that there was yet another earthquake in the bay area, this one near Oakland.

What's amazing about this? My thoughts about earthquake safety took place at almost exactly the same time as the earthquake.

a good reason to declare bankruptcy

As related by Kevin's officemate:

Apparently, there once was a student from "one of those European countries" who, upon coming to Stanford, decided not to get the employee insurance. Why would he need to? He's getting it from his country, right?

And his wife became pregnant.

And they delivered.

And they got the bill.

And they realized, with what I can only imagine is bone-chilling terror, that their national health insurance didn't cover babies.

So, they did what any good American would do: declare bankruptcy and return to the Motherland.

Again: how does one possibly give birth in this country without health insurance?

one-bee baby

Peter may love Busy Bee #1, but he punches the lights out of Busy Bee #2 (a.k.a. the Deuce).

Our baby's a monogamous lover, all right.



(note: Peter does enjoy a kiss or two from Monterey, but don't tell the Bee)

porn star

We caught Peter full-on tongue kissing with Busy Bee* yesterday.

Before we filmed this bit of PG-13 video, Peter gave Kevin a long, serious stare-down, as if to say: can't a baby get a moment of privacy in this place?



*Note: After Peter's make-out session, Busy Bee went from being "he" to "she."

da bomb

Apparently, Thursday is National Bomb Pop Day.

I know this because I am on the Blue Bunny Ice Cream email list. Do me a favor: if you live in a state or city that actually sells Blue Bunny Ice Cream, go out and eat some. It's delicious, and, sadly, unavailable here.

Anyway, I plan to eat a few dozen Bomb Pops in celebration of Bomb Pop Day, but even I will halt in the face of these recipes (also supplied by BBIC):

Bomb Pop marinated shrimp;
Bomp Pop fried shrimp;
Bomp Pop marinated sole;
Bomp Pop spicy chicken wings.

Eew. I mean, I guess the salient flavor of a Bomb Pop is "sweet," but still...

I got knocked up too

While Kevin's parents were here, we took advantage of the free babysitting and saw Knocked Up.

The movie itself was fine - I particularly liked the idea of the little girl Googling "murder" - but not as funny as I'd been led to believe.

Mostly, I found myself surprised by a few things - like, I really miss being pregnant. Specifically, I miss having BDR safely ensconced within the womb. Sure, I didn't really know BDR then, but he was always safe and always with me.

Also, I was very unprepared for my emotional reaction to the birth at the end of the movie. Luckily, there are only a few minutes of movie after the big birth scene, or otherwise I'd have needed to leave the theater early. Seriously: tears, on the verge of sobbing, partly for the memories of birth, mostly for the missing of my child. And I should note that I've not had post-partum crying since the middle of May.

Oh, well. I'm not saying we should have seen Evan Almighty or anything (does anyone else think Steve Carell is the next Jim Carrey? and I mean this in a bad way.), but I do think it might have been a little too soon.

At least the popcorn had real butter.

Jared and Cathy and reptile, too

I've delayed posting about this mostly because I wanted to wait to get the picture for proof.

Last week, Jared and Cathy Silver, friends of mine from college (and, I admit it, high school...kind of) were in San Francisco on vacation, and they drove down to scenic Mountain View for a dinner date. We at at Pasta? on Castro Street, and were rewarded with this:


a dude and his reptile. I'm not sure what it is...an alligator? A Gila monster? Who knows, but it was pretty awesome.

Peter always uses his saftey belt.

Peter's new art

For his Grandparent's visit, and for his first visit to San Francisco, Peter had a little cosmetic upgrade.

The package says these tattoos are "FDA and Mom approved!"

This was also Peter's first trip to a bar.

so many ripples

Peter's a bit...er...zaftig.

..

ducks, all grown up

Seriously, the only thing that grows this quickly are weeds and Baby Davis-Ross.

lunch with the Bishop

As reward for our good work, Kevin and I were invited to have lunch with the Bishop today. At his house. Which looks like this:

It is seriously one of the nicest houses we've seen in the area, with the largest yard to boot. So why are we trying to raise $100 million?

Anyway, the lunch was quite nice. And we got bags of candy at the end, which always plays well with this crowd. Curiously, though, in the midst of peppermints and Werther's Originals, was this little piece of sweetness:


I really like the image of the Bishop going out and picking up a bunch of gummy SpongeBob candies. (I really enjoyed eating it, too.)

dirty crosswalk man

On Castro Street, in Mountain View.

stress test

Castro Street's own Scientology Information Center.

We live remarkably close to a Scientology reading room, and we find ourselves walking past it frequently.

More often than not there's a dude outside asking us if we'd like to take a stress test. He's always very polite when he asks, and we're always very polite when we decline. My goal, after encountering him several times, is to show him just how unstressed and happy I could be without his alien-based religion.

On Tuesday, Kevin, Peter and I walked past said Scientology dude. He offered us only a familiar "hello," which we returned in kind.

Have we won? Perhaps. But consider this: I'm certainly more stressed now that we have an infant than I've ever been. So, maybe we've all just lost.

the not-so-baby ducks

Probably the last baby duck post, since they're growing up so fast:

They've been hanging out by our back porch quite a bit, but Peter's aversion to anything other than being held while in bed or on the futon makes visiting the ducks somewhat difficult.

babies, babies all around

I'll try to minimize the over-baby-posting, but I should note that

the baby ducks are back!

And Baby Davis-Ross is one week old.

quacky, redux

The baby ducks are possibly my most favorite thing, ever. They're just 10 feet outside our back door, and I really have to restrain myself from reaching out a picking one up whenver they swim by.


The quacktasticness of Mother Duck:

quacky

For the past few days, KJ and I have been trying to figure out why the ducks on the pond outside have been freaking out. By "freaking out," I mean, "quacking incessantly for 15 to 20 minutes at a time."

Yesterday, we figured out why: