Tuesday, August 29, 2006

I'm not the world's most passionate man

I go to a free yoga class at the Y every Tuesday night, when I can. KB keeps Tuesday nights open on his work calendar so he's home and I can go. It doesn't work out every week - if there's something else I have to do (like, say, a Zoning Board Hearing) then I don't make it. But I try to go as often as I can.

I went tonight, and because it's the Y and it's free (if you're a member), there are certain things about the class that aren't the greatest. The room, for example. We meet in the gymnasium, which is used during the day for kids' activities, and by the time our class rolls around at 7:30pm, the floor is a fairly gross minefield of assorted food crumbs and various manifestations of dirt. You usually have to shake your mat out after class before you roll it up, lest you bring some nice dried mud and Cheez-It crumbs home with you.

Also, because it is a gym, the room is cavernous, and sometimes our instructor's voice seems to float away into the ether. We'll be holding a pose and I'll start to think, "Gee, we've been in Downward Dog for a long time," and then I look around and realize everyone has moved on to a Sun Salutation and I just didn't hear her say anything.

But, on the plus side, the instructor is a very nice fifty-ish hippie lady with dyed black hair and lots of scarves and interesting shoes, and the class itself is fairly slow-paced and very relaxing. Nothing too strenuous. I always feel pleasantly loose and floaty when class is over, like my spine is back in its rightful position and I can breathe properly again. So that's good. And it's free.

Tonight the problem was The New Guy. Now, The New Guy isn't necessarily always a guy - it can be a girl. Because this is an ongoing, free, drop-in-as-you-please kind of class, the cast of regulars undergoes some shifting on a pretty constant basis, although there's a few of us who have been there since they started offering it. Every couple weeks or so, we'll get somebody who's never done yoga before, and, perhaps more importantly ('cause I'd never done yoga before this class, despite living in SoCal for six years) really has no idea what yoga entails. Sometimes this new person watches and learns and fits themselves into the rhythm of the class, and sometimes...sometimes not.

So The New Guy tonight was as stereotypical a Big Dumb New England Guy as they come. Fat, tall, giant belly, crew cut, Red Sox sweatshirt, everything. Physically, he reminded me of no one so much as Bobby Baccalieri, except with the "pahk the cah in Hahvahd yahd" accent instead of the Joisey accent. I don't know what exactly made him think yoga might be the thing for him, but I could tell from the beginning of class that he was going to be a problem.

He talked. A lot. To himself, ("Oooooh, I'm outta shape.") to the teacher, ("Like this?" about EVERY move), to other students, ("This is where we're supposed to let go of all our worries, huh?") to nobody in particular ("This mat is too small for me.") It was tremendously annoying. Did he just not notice that NO ONE ELSE IS TALKING EXCEPT FOR THE TEACHER?

I don't know why some people don't...I don't know, observe first, before trying to impose their personality on a group they're trying to join. I can't think of the right way to say it...I guess because when I'm entering a new situation, I tend to observe the other people and see how they're acting and try to work with the way things seem to be going. Not that I'm a great model of how to be sociable and interact with other people - heck, I'm not even a mediocre model of that. I just mean - I guess I mean that there are rules, dammit, and you should watch and try to figure out the rules before you go blundering around smashing them all to hell.

So here comes this big dumb lummox of a guy talking a blue streak and groaning noisily and sitting too close to the teacher so half the room can't see her and FARTING, not once but twice and not even excusing himself or acknowledging it in any way, and it was excruciating.

At one point, when we were in Downward Dog he said, "This is kind of like you're gonna hike a football," and it was such a stereotypical big dumb lummox-y thing to say that I started to laugh. And then it was like when you're laughing in church and you know you're not supposed to and that just makes you laugh harder. Luckily I was able to get myself under control - I think if I had made eye contact with anyone else in the class I would have lost it, but it's pretty hard to make eye contact with someone in Downward Dog. Plus, it's really not like hiking a football. AT ALL. I tried really hard to find some sympathy for the guy in my heart, to think open-minded, loving, yoga-esque thoughts like, "We are all human beings here" and "He deserves to be here just as much as the rest of us," but it was pretty hard.

Even the farting isn't so awful that I can't forgive it. I mean, it's a natural bodily function, it's 75% involuntary, I'd say, and when you put your body in a certain position sometimes, sure, you're gonna fart. What are you gonna do? I can get past that (although it does make it hard to "breathe deeply on the next inhale" as our teacher would have us do). It's the voluntary things, like talking all the time and trying to constantly command the teacher's attention (when there are 8 other students in the room with you) that drive me crazy.

So I'm guessing he won't be back. He was probably just as uncomfortable as we were and knew he wasn't fitting in. In a way I felt bad and felt like I was being part of the Cool School crowd and ostracizing the New Kid, but mostly I was just pissed off.

He was fucking with my relaxation, god dammit!

Thanks for reading.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Maybe get a blister on your little finger

So we got a new fridge today. Our old fridge, which came with the house when we bought it three years ago, has been making these alarming "Rnrnrnrnrnrnrnr"* noises periodically, and food seems to be going bad much more quickly than it really ought to. Massachusetts had a tax-free shopping weekend on the 12th and 13th, plus Sears had a special promotion where you get 12% back on any appliance over $299, so we (or rather, I) went and got us a new refridge.

I went and looked up fridges in Consumer Reports at the library first, since we're too cheap to get a subscription. It's always a dicey proposition taking Nolan to the adult portion of the library (and by adult, I don't mean "All Holes Filled With Hard Cock" adult, I mean the non-children's portion of the library where there's no playhouses or parakeets and shrieking and crying are generally frowned upon) because I can never tell how long he'll be able to amuse himself. Somtimes I can give him a toy (with wheels, of course) and he'll be good for twenty minutes, just sitting in his stroller while I do my research, but sometimes he flings the toy away after 2 minutes and starts with the whining and the fussing and the crying and the Oy! My head!

This time when we went there was a guy sitting at the big table in the Reference section, and when I pulled up with Nolan in the stroller he gave me that look that people sometimes give you when you have a child with you, like I'd just flung a slab of rotting, diseased meat onto his notebook and told him to lick it. Sort of "You're not going to bring THAT in here where I'm working, are you?" So we made it quick. I found the Consumer Reports on refridgerators and found the best recommendation on a basic, no-frills fridge, wrote down the model number, and we got the heck out of there. Nolan was pretty good, but the guy still gave us the stink eye a couple times.

I went to Sears at 8:30 that night, after KB was home from work and Nolan was in bed. I figured, even with the tax-free shopping weekend, most people wouldn't want to spend their Saturday nights looking at appliances at Sears. I guess I'm not a good judge of what "most people" like to do, because Sears was friggin' PACKED. There was a wait just to talk to a salesperson, when usually when you go to the appliance section there are at least five salespeople circling around like sharks waiting for the chum.

So I stood by the model I wanted and tried to catch the eye of a salesperson walking around with other customers. I finally saw a guy who was helping these two women who were taking forever to decide ("I don't know, Delores...this one only has one temperature control for both the fridge and the freezer...") and said to him, "I know exactly what I want and I'm going to buy it right now. It will take you five minutes max and you can get back to these ladies." So he checked with them and they said, "Sure," and off we went. It was like:



"Take away old model?"


"Extended warranty?"


"Here's your total."

"Here's my card."

"Here's your receipt."

And we were done.

I was all excited because the model I ordered had a water filter and ice maker included, even though it was a pretty no-frills model, and I was looking forward to not having to fill up the Brita pitcher seventeen times a day.

Then when they delivered the fridge and set it up in the kitchen, it finally dawned on me: That water has to come from somewhere. The fridge doesn't make its own water, genius. You have to hook up a water line to it. Which of course we don't have because our old fridge didn't have it. So now we have this very nice, very new white Kenmore in our kitchen with no water line to attach to it. Oh well. It's still a nice fridge.

Thanks for reading.

*Think of that Simpsons episode where Homer refuses to go to church and Marge and the kids get stuck in the freezing cold because the car won't start - when Marge is trying to start the car and she's imitating the noise it's making? That's the noise our old fridge was making.

Monday, August 14, 2006

Pumped a lot of pain down in New Orleans

Nolan loves wheels.

I say this in the manner of stating a fundamental law of the universe, like "Dogs love bacon," or "Guys love trucks" or whatever those stupid commercials were.

His favorite part of any trip to anywhere is looking at the wheels on cars as we're walking to or from the parking lot. We went to a local beach a couple weeks ago - nothing special, just a lake with a small sand beach and a playground - but I was like, "Nolan, look! Seagulls! Water, Nolan! Sand!" and all he wanted to do was look at the wheels on the cars in the parking lot. He has to pat every wheel he sees in an attempt to spin it; it doesn't matter how big (or dirty) the wheel in question, he'll cry, "Ehh!" and his little hand will stroke the surface, trying to get the wheel to rotate.

We've been using his little umbrella stroller almost exclusively lately because it's smaller, lighter and easier for me to maneuver, but while Mom was here we got the big stroller out of the basement in case he wanted to lay down for a nap while we were out and about (the umbrella stroller doesn't recline). When he saw Mom bring the big stroller up from the basement, Nolan let out a squeal the likes of which I'd never heard before; it was like he'd found the Holy Grail, or seen a friend he hadn't seen in twenty years. He didn't even want to ride in it, he just wanted to spin the wheels. Now when I need a few minutes to do something baby-free, I can open up his big stroller on the living room floor and he'll play undistracted for a good twenty minutes or so. Such is the power of the wheel.

So today, Nolan had just eaten lunch (crackers, watermelon, swiss cheese and mixed vegetables, since you asked) and I was bracing myself for the dreaded post-prandial washcloth cleansing routine, in which I attempt to wipe off his face and hands and he screams like I'm ax-murdering him. His screams had a different quality today, however - he kept pointing* at me and saying "Eh!" over and over. He was trying to grab me, but since his hands were still dirty I wouldn't let him. I couldn't figure out what he wanted, and it was driving me crazy. (We do this little pantomime a lot - he says, "Eh!" and I point at various things in the room I think might be the item in question - "The light? The ball? The cat?" and when I get to the right one he's usually able to let me know via a more-excited "Eh!") I thought perhaps he was just anxious to get out of the highchair and play, and was pointing to me to say, "Get me down, woman!" but since I hadn't wiped him off yet, I wouldn't. The whole thing was very frustrating.

Finally I actually looked down at myself to see what he might be pointing at, and I realized I was wearing this They Might Be Giants t-shirt. With, of course, wheels on it. THAT's what he was freaking out about, he was trying to grab the wheel on my t-shirt. So once SuperDunce Mommy figured it out and held out the t-shirt so he could try to spin the wheel, Nolan calmed down and order returned to the universe.


It would be much easier if he spoke English.

On the bright side, communication-wise, he has learned the sign for "more," so he can ask for more of something when he's eating, and he'll also "moo" when I point to a picture of a cow. Although his "moo" is sort of lacking in the "oo" department and thus comes out more as "mmmmmm!" So maybe he's not moo-ing, maybe he's saying he'd like a nice juicy steak.

Thanks for reading.

*when Nolan points, he does so with his entire hand pinched into a kind of sign-language "e" instead of the traditional extended index finger. I'm not sure why.

Friday, August 11, 2006

Seesaw swingin' with the boys in school and your feet flyin' up in the air

So in all the hullaballoo surrounding the development next door I totally neglected to mention that Nolan took his first steps last week.

He can stand on his own for a pretty long time now, especially if he doesn't realize he's doing it. As soon as he figures out he's not holding on to anything, though, he immediately grabs something or sits down.

So last Thursday I just decided to stand him up on his own a couple feet away from me and see if he would walk to me. And he did! He got this big daredevil grin on his face, like, "Now I'm going to do something really dangerous!" and he took about three steps before he collapsed against me, laughing. We did it a couple more times and then he seemed to get tired of the novelty of it all and went back to crawling.

When KB got home we sat down on the floor a few feet apart and had Nolan walk back and forth between us a couple times. Each time he would be able to walk about three or four steps on his own before he'd start to teeter alarmingly and one of us would grab him. It was excellent fun. And when my mom was here last weekend we did the same thing so she could see him walking, which thrilled her to no end.

Now when we walk around with him holding onto my hands, he's much more stable and balanced. The holding onto my hands is more of a psychological thing than actual assistance at this point. Like Dumbo's feather.

So it won't be long now before he's tearing it up!

Thanks for reading.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Politician granny with your high ideals, have you no idea how the majority feels?

We won the battle, but the war continues.

(Sorry to keep y'all waiting for this post - I didn't realize everyone was so interested! I needed a day yesterday to just decompress and not think about this for a little while.)

The development company withdrew their petition for a variance, which means they won't be able to build six townhouses next door. However, they are now planning on coming back with a plan to build five townhouses, which is the maximum allowable under the current zoning.

So I guess I was a little misleading in the last post when I said pray for the Zoning Board to deny the variance so I could stop writing about this. Because basically what happened is we bought ourselves a couple months' time while the development company goes back to the drawing board and comes up with a new plan. Which means the fight is going to continue, which means I'm going to keep writing about it. Alas.

The zoning hearing itself was pretty stressful for me. I was so tense the whole time that my jaw hurt the entire next day from clenching it so tightly.

Our case was third on the New Business portion of the agenda, so we had to sit through one Old Business case and two other New Business cases before they got to us. I don't know if you've ever been to a zoning hearing or any other kind of community meeting before, but suffice to say, if it doesn't concern you personally it's incredibly boring. We got there a little before 7pm (the hearing started at 7:15) and our case didn't come up until almost 9, so we were there for two hours just sitting and watching the board members debate.

The nice thing was that a LOT of people from the neighborhood showed up. People that I hadn't even spoken to personally, who just got my flyers, showed up. There were 18 people there to oppose the variance, which made me very happy. I was hoping for 10, so 18 was totally kick-ass.

The big bad developer guy had one of his flunkies sitting there in the meeting the whole time and I guess they asked for more time to get ready to present their case, because the board chairman announced that the last case would go before ours, which meant we had to wait even longer. I think they were hoping that people would get tired and go home. But nobody left.

And then when it was finally their turn to present their case, no one from their side was there to do it! The flunkie apparently went out to get the other guys, so the board had to call a recess while they waited for the dudes to show up. So lame.

So we all stood around chatting for about ten minutes, and I got to finally meet my excellent Ward Councillor and talk to him - what a great guy. He was very genuine and normal and really seemed to care about his job and representing his constituents' interests. Poor Nolan was so tired and getting cranky. KB had been entertaining him the whole time up until that point, but he was running out of distractions.

Nolan was playing on the floor by the door when the developer and his local buffoon (the one who harrassed me at home) finally came in, and I had the biggest rush of fierce protective instinct as they walked by him - every cell in my body was like, "Don't you fucking touch my child, you fucking goon!" It was at that point that the adrenaline fight-or-flight thang kicked in, so I was a massive bundle of nerves for the rest of the hearing.

The local doofus did the presenting of their case, which was so incredibly lame, it was almost laughable. They didn't even say what their hardship supposedly was - all the guy talked about was how if he was allowed to build these six townhouses he would bring a new water line to the street. At one point he started talking about the big bad developer's reputation being sullied (although "sullied" is much too sophisticated a word for this guy to have used) by malicious racially-motivated gossip in the other neighborhoods he'd built in. He said, "[Loser Developer] has built houses on streets that you and I would be afraid to walk down." and I was thinking, "That's supposed to be an endorsement? He builds in scary neighborhoods? Yeah, let's bring him here to our street!"

So then the chairman asked if there was anyone else who wanted to speak in favor of the project, and there was silence. Then he asked if anyone wanted to speak in opposition to the project, and about ten hands went up. So he laughed and said, "Okay, just form a line down the center aisle."

I went first. I wanted to just talk and get it over with. I went up to the podium, which was centered in front of the big U-shaped counter where all the board members were sitting. I brought my binders full of photocopied newspaper articles and the pictures I'd taken of the property next door and told the chairman I had materials to hand out to the board members, and one of them came over to the podium to get them from me.

At that point, the big bad developer dude, who up until then had been sitting in the back not saying anything, walked up to the podium behind me and starting saying very loudly that he wanted to know what materials I was handing out, and that he had reason to believe they were defamatory toward him.

And the chairman was like, "Who are you?" and the guy said, "I'm [Loser Developer]." and the chairman said, "Well, you've had your turn to present your case and Miss Thptpth has the floor right now." I turned to look at the guy, who was just this normal-looking pot-bellied short dude, and I thought, "You're the guy?" I had built him up in my mind as this big boogeyman, and here he was, talking out of order and trying to rattle me before I spoke, and getting shot down by the chairman.

So they passed around my binders and the pictures, and I made my case. When I started talking about the reputation of the developer and how the local goon had come to my house and threatened me, the chairman asked me to please keep my presentation limited to things that pertained to the project itself, so I had to cut out some of what I was going to say. My voice got really hoarse and I know I repeated myself a couple of times, but basically I think I did okay. I'm glad I had the podium to hold onto or my hands would have been shaking. One of the board members was somehow offended by the fact that I'd given them the newspaper articles; he tossed the binder back over the table toward me and said that it was unnecessary and that he didn't appreciate being told how to think. I was like, "Okayyyyy. Sure."

I wrapped it up by saying that they should consider that the developer hadn't even said what their supposed hardship was, and then I walked back to my seat. A bunch of other people got up to talk, including the Ward Councillor. KB went up and just said, "I agree with everything my wife said," and somebody in the audience said, "Good man!" and the board members laughed.

It became clear from the questions and discussion that a couple people on the board (including the one who tossed the binder at me) were on the developer's side, but that everyone else was against them. So the chairman was going to call the vote, and then the local doofus came up to the podium and said that they'd like to withdraw their petition. When the board voted on whether to allow them to withdraw it, they were turned down. Then there was more discussion about whether they had ever previously not allowed someone to withdraw their petition, and then there was a motion to re-vote on whether to allow them to withdraw, and people started getting confused. One of the board members was like, "If I vote 'aye' on this motion, what am I saying?"

In the end, they voted to allow them to withdraw the petition, which was sort of a bummer for us. The best thing would have been if they'd voted on the petition and been denied, because then it goes on record as a negative vote. Since they were allowed to withdraw their petition, it's more of a neutral thing. Which is too bad.

They're planning on coming up with new plans to build five townhouses instead, which, depending on what the plans look like, may not violate any zoning codes. So they may not have to have any public meeting about the feasibility of the whole thing. But now they're on our radar, and the Ward Councillor is going to keep me posted on when and if they come back to the Building Department with new plans.

My fervent wish is that they'll just decide it's not worth the money without the sixth unit and go away or resell the property. I don't think that's what's going to happen, but that's my best-case scenario. The next best case is that the City Council moves to re-zone the street to make it off-limits to multi-family developments, which is what I'm going to start working on next: a petition from the neighborhood to the City Council to do just that. If we can't get the neighborhood re-zoned and they decide to go ahead with the project, I'm hoping they'll be delayed long enough that it will be winter and they won't start until spring (I've seen other building projects go on throughout the winter, though, so they may not be very likely.) Our last option is we hire that lawyer and sue to stop construction. I'm also going to see if I can get someone from the Massachusetts Department of Environmental Protection out here to look at the stream that runs behind the property and see if it qualifies as a Protected Waterway.

So that's what happened. I felt really drained after it was all over Tuesday night, and simultaneously all hyped up and adrenalized. I couldn't go to sleep for a long time, and I couldn't help but feel let down even though we'd won. I guess I had built up the hearing in my mind as this big showdown, the climax of the story, when in fact it was just the opening salvo in a long fight. I guess I was sort of hoping I wouldn't have to deal with this any more after the hearing, that it would just go away and be over.

But I also think I've learned a great deal in the last two weeks, not the least of which is how gratifying it is to fight for something you really want. Seeing and talking to all those people from the neighborhood at the hearing was a big thing for me. I really felt like they were there because of my efforts (a couple of them had my flyers in their hands as they were sitting there) and that what I'd done had actually made a difference. It was pretty cool.

So you're going to have to read more about this, I'm afraid!

Thanks for reading.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

We'll lead as two kings

Okay, so the Zoning Board hearing's tonight. Everyone pray for them to rule in our favor so I can stop writing posts about this whole mishegass and you won't have to read any more about it.

I am filled with anxiety. I can't really recall the last time I was this keyed up and nervous about speaking in front of a group of people.

My mom was here this past weekend, and when I mentioned being nervous she was like, "What?! How many different plays have you performed in? You were up there in front of hundreds of people!" and while I see her point, this is different. When you're performing on stage, you're living as the character you're portraying, not as yourself, and so the things that are at stake for the character are not as important to you the person. (Not to mention the fact that in the reality of the character, there is no audience there.) When you're in the moment, acting and reacting as that character, you'll feel as though those things are important to you (if you're doing your job, that is), but once the performace is over, you can go back to being you.

At this hearing, the issue at stake is VERY important to me, and I don't have the extra layer of character to shield me from the fact that I care very much about what happens tonight. I'm going to be standing there in front of a bunch of powerful men trying to coherently explain why they should see my side of things. If things go badly, I'm afraid I'm going to be crushed.

So I've got my notes all written up on a yellow legal pad and I've thought about what I'm gonna wear (khaki shorts, sneakers and white button-down shirt; I wanna look like Joe Q. Citizen. Or rather Joan Q. Citizen.) and I plan on listening to some Rage Against the Machine and Tenacious D to get me in that extra-fired-up kick-ass mood before we go. I've got six three-ring binders with all the copies of the newspaper articles I've found (with relevant portions highlighted to make for easier reading) to hand out to the six board members. I've got two sets of 5x7 prints of pictures I took of the house and property next door so I can show the board members how small it really is and how many trees will be torn down if this goes through. KB and Nolan are coming with me for moral support and to maximize the number of people there on the "Oppose" side. I think I've done as much as I can do.

Keep your fingers crossed for us.

Thanks for reading.

Friday, August 04, 2006

Lean a little bit closer see the roses really smell like poo poo poo

The Saga of The Development Next Door continues...*

This is my new part-time job, fighting this development (but unlike a real part-time job situation, I am not getting paid, alas). Every time Nolan goes down for a nap or manages to occupy himself with a book or a toy for 10 minutes at a time, I'm in front of the computer or on the phone working on this thing. My sweet little patient boy has been to Kinko's with me twice so far this week, not to mention the three tours of the neighborhood he's been on in his stroller as I hand out flyers and try to get people to sign a petition against the development.

I'm feeling pretty fired up about this whole thing, though. The more I find out about the developer and his local flunkies, the more outraged I get and the more determined I am to fight it off.

Would you believe this guy, this local doofus who seems to be running the show on behalf of the lead scuzzball developer, showed up at my house this morning? AND THREATENED ME. With my child sitting right there playing in the living room! He pretended to be a neighbor from another street and asked me for one of the flyers that I'd been handing out, and when I wouldn't give him one, he said, "You'll be sorry!" and that I would be hearing from his lawyer. Then he offered to buy our house out from under us. He said, "I'll buy it right now - how much do you want for it?" and I told him I didn't want to sell our house to him. He said everything comes down to money and I told him that I was sorry he felt that way, and that I think there are more things in life than money.

I think he's scared. I really do.

I think he's worried he's going to get turned down for this variance. He said even if he can't build the six units he wants to build, he'll still build as many as he can "by right," just to piss me off.

So after he left I called the cops and reported it. They sent an officer to our house and I told him I felt threatened and that I didn't want him contacting us or coming to our house anymore. When I told the officer the guy's name, he rolled his eyes and said, "John Doe? Ah god is he a pain in the ass!" and proceeded to tell me numerous stories about the crap work this guy does and how the police get calls all the time from subcontractors who haven't gotten paid by this guy for their work. I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse - this guy's bad enough that even the beat cop who gets sent out on house calls knows about him.

So the cop said he'd call John Doe and tell him that if he comes on our property again he'll be arrested, and he told me if I see him there again to just call 911.

I've also contacted our local newspaper to see if I can get them to do a story and/or cover the hearing on Tuesday. The woman I talked to at the news desk sounded interested, but I haven't heard from the reporter yet.

And I'm still waiting for a call back from the Mayor's office. His receptionist promised he'll call me before the hearing on Tuesday. His web site has a big quote from him about how he's concerned about the rampant development in our town and how he wants the Zoning Board to be more strict with handing out variances, so I'm hoping he'll want to back up that statement with some support for my cause.

The one person who's been amazingly great and supportive has been our Ward Councillor. I've spoken on the phone with him a number of times, and he sent a letter out to all the residents on our street and two neighboring streets about how he's against this development and encouraging people to show up at the hearing and voice their opposition to it. He's been wonderful - one of those public servants that make you have faith in government again.

We've been in touch with a lawyer, too, so if Evil Developer Man does get the variance approved we haven't ruled out a suit as an option. Ugh. I hate to even think of it, but a couple of the people I've talked to who have fought this guy before said that's the only thing they've seen work.

So the fight continues. The Zoning Board of Appeals hearing is Tuesday night at 7:15. Please think good thoughts for us 'round about that time.

Thanks for reading!

*Rose, you're psychic!

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

You look like you're lots of fun

I realized there's been a marked lack of cute baby pictures on this site lately, and we can't have that.

I also realized that I don't have many good potential blackmail pictures of the naked-on-a-bear-skin-rug variety that I can show to Nolan's prom date when he's 16.

So here's a couple I took recently that should suffice.

Thanks for reading.