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Time Flies When You’re Busy.

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Which is sort of lame, because, when aren’t we busy? Stealing an hour of peace and quiet is just as important for busyness as… well… being busy.

Anyway, Juniorette started crawling this week. She is not even 7 months old yet, but whenever she sets her eyes on her brother’s train set, she immediately starts pulling herself, army style, towards it. Seeing her grab and bite into a piece of rail or a whole train is hilarious. I’m really glad Junior can’t read yet, because otherwise I’d be in great trouble when he reads this. He goes insane when he sees her touching his precious trains.

Other things that have kept me busy were cooking new foods for Juniorette, who is now eating two meals of solids every day, and getting started on sewing a fantastic shirt for Junior. I got the pattern from Oliver ans S.  Their patterns are simply adorable, remind me next time to upload the dress I made for Juniorette from one of their free patterns. The fabric I’m going to use is exclusively quilters’ “pilot to co-pilot” you can see in the picture here:  which you can’t see because I can’t find a link that will stick the picture into the post. Just google “exclusive quilters pilot to co-pilot”. It’s the one with the cream background and lots of antique planes.

Tomorrow: some baby food. Interested at all?

Sophie.

Update:  I was told that googling the above phrase just brings up this post and nothing else. Try viewing this link, then:  my pinterest.  Also, I forgot to say, I got this fantastic piece at www.pissott.co.il, which is where I get most of my fabrics.

Albatross!

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Today was an important landmark in mother-little boy relationship. I’m talking about the haircut. Not just any haircut, that the parent performs at home, which results in the kid looking like some hillbilly. No. A real one, with a hairdresser involved and good money changing hands.

Today, in short (ahaha pun), junior got his first professional big boy haircut. This moment has taken me eons to achieve. For months I’ve been trying to drag him to various hairdressers: mine, his dad’s, a kiddy hairdresser at the mall. Today I finally put my foot down, told my shoulder-lifter/mouth pouter that he cannot choose in this matter. But I did promise him ice cream after if he behaved well. Well, we got there, he was quite the obedient little boy, and got a marvelous haircut (or a yucky one, if you ask his dad. Men – go figure!). Ice cream followed. Bubble gum flavored, thanks for asking.

Also, It’s time I tell you about all the projects that are lying cold and naked on my worktable. About the Hebrew alphabet book I’m trying to figure out how to sew together, about the little sundress that got stuck in the “how the hell do these parts connect exactly?” phase and many more. But I won’t.

‘cuz I’m tired, and ‘cuz I said so, that’s why.

So Tir….zzzzzzzzzz

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I’m back. Today was a special education for me, when I learned that tank engines, too, may suffer from bipolar personality syndrome. Who knew?

Junior was sick at home today, so there was a lot of that, plus me worrying about having to fill my tax report when I can’t even read the darned thing. I know it’s written in Hebrew, but I don’t recognize any of the words, and that, let me tell you, is a new experience for me. So here we are. It’s 8pm. I am going to sleep, I don’t care when the kids are going to do.

For tomorrows excitement: dentist’s appointment and supermarket lols.

Lucky 20.

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Nineteen posts. 19. That’s how long it took me to kill my blog. I should really start over, maybe write about something I do on a more regular basis than crafting. Like wiping baby tucheses*.

So here goes:

Hia all! I’m Sophie. I’m a part time crafter, part time idler, part time crazy, part time cynic, full time double-header mom. Yes indeedy! at 36 I suddenly find my juvenile self a mother of two. The responsible adult. The woman who fears not puke nor snot nor technicolor poop. I hope I’ll still be able to contribute some trifles about cooking and crafting and suchlike, but I think it’s better to post about my kid singing both verses of “twinkle twinkle little star” than not posting at all. I mean – this is the internet. If you’re not there, you’re not anywhere. Or sommink.

I’m not as funny or as witty as my favorite woman bloggers, but hey! I more desperate for human contact!

So hang in there. I’ll see you tomorrow.

*tuches:   butt.

p.s. I’ve decided to freshen up the looks of the blog – you know, new clothes make a new woman blah blah, anyhow – I’d appreciate comments or advice for looks improvement. Of the blog’s face. My own face is already as improved as it’s gonna get.

No Worries!

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A representative list of things (in no particular order) I don’t have to worry about in connection with the BlogHer ’10 convention, what is taking place in NYC this very weekend:

1. If my pregger’s clothing is NYC-grade material.

2. The huge zit I have on my chin.

3. How to carry my huge, 20-kilo limit suitcase all by myself.

4. A 20-kilo limit on the suitcase (that’s 44 pounds, for the metrically-challenged).

5. The amount of shoes I would need that would be both NYC-sexy and also preggy-comfortness.

6. Jet lag.

7. How to survive a 10-hour flight on each direction.

8. Renewing my passport and my US-visa during the hottest season.

9. What to buy Junior as a coming-home present.

10. What if nobody wants to talk to me?  (phew, than goodness I don’t have this one to worry about)

11. How many Twinkies can a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck could chuck Twinkies at all, and can you still get those at all?

I would like to end this post with a very good mantra I read this morning, provided by Heather at the mouthy housewives:

“Who needs Paris, who needs France, I wear sexy underpants!”

Have a good time at BlogHer, ladies!

Everybody’s Doing It

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Yes, they are. I swear to you, and I can even back my words, if you push me hard enough for linkographic evidence. I think that’s the reason I haven’t done it until now. See, I have this thing: If everybody’s doing it, than I don’t. Or I do, but much much later, when it’s no longer and issue to be done by everyone. I even joined Facebook only when it became a boring, mundane thing, where you friend your parents and your in-laws (hey, G!) and really have to keep your language.

The only reason I’m doing it at all is because of all the wonderful blogging material that is going to waste by not doing it. Shin said she didn’t think I’d like it, because I’m such a private cat and don’t like to be told stuff or asked questions, and it’s sort of true, but on the other hand, I WRITE A BLOG. I mean, I guess I’m only private for a given value of “private”.

This is also a sort of a reason why I haven’t written all that often in the past few months. It’s hard to post about stuff when there’s this big lump of thing stuck in your brain with the title “not to use on the blog”. It kind of darkens the path to writinghood, sort of thing.

So, here goes.

What? What is it that everybody’s doing but me, I hear you ask? Oh, right. The thing everybody’s doing is tell the world about important personal stuff. Specifically, this:

Junior is about to become a big brother, and this time I’m not talking about getting a new cat. It’s the other kind, where you get good skin, excellent nails, and lush, supple hair, on your head as well as on the rest of your body. Yep, I’m it. Pregnant. There, the secret is told to the world of internets.

And I forgot all the funny bits I had to say about that.

Mustn’t Grumble (Yeah, Right)

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Well, hello there! Hi! Fancy meeting you all here, I didn’t think anybody came to this part of the desert anymore!

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Sure, I can start piling on the excuses, but you all know the truth: I’m a lazy slob, and worse, I’m afraid to write stuff that doesn’t look interesting enough. I really don’t know what I have to complain about. Many things have happened since April, mostly good and interesting, with the bags and with the life and the family, but somehow reading about other people’s fights with their kids or about the summer vacation dread seems always more interesting than my own. But man, things are happening!

First of all – my good and trusty ole’ laptop died. Albert the second was 5 years old at the time of his death, which would be like an 80-year-old man in laptop years. I guess he felt there was no more need to keep pulling along once the PhD business was over. Little did poor Albert know how much I relied on him for storing pictures ,  keeping countless bookmarks, mobility around the house (ever tried surfing the net from the bathroom?  Er… no, me neither… ), not to mention he was my big, digital inspiration board. Now my desk is Albert-less, and is being filled instead by Mr. Photographer’s laptop when he comes home from work, to do some more work.

In short, I’ve been reduced to communicating with the world on a regular desktop, surrounded by way too many joysticks, used batteries, pieces of paper with undecipherable writing on them, cables, screwdrivers of various sizes etc. And I don’t even know if any of my pictures are saved on this beast. I’ll have to dig in and look. If not, I’m going to have to make Mr. Photographer take pictures of all the bags, again. Oh, bother!

Well, enough with the whine. Big day today, and there’s lots of interesting stuff to do outside the air-conditioned protection of home. I hope there WILL be another post tomorrow. If not, I deserve to get shot.

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