reasonable creature

I suppose I should have thought this through in advance. But the snow was so perfectly packable, and i had a carrot and raisins at the ready, and really I guess I was fulfilling my own childhood fantasy about what a perfect snowman should look like. In any event, it stopped snowing, and started raining, and we looked out the window and noticed that the snowman's head had started to tilt to one side. That's when baby began her slow chant of "uh oh!" She stood watch at the window, pointing, chanting, sad-faced, while I explained to her about how snow melts, and snowmen melt, and that's why we get to build a new one every time it snows. And how we should say "bye bye" to the snowman (whose head had by now fallen off completely).

I don't think she bought it.

But baby angst being what it is, ten minutes later she is telling silly stories (in her language, we don't actually understand them but they seem to have punchlines) and giggling and rolling around on the sofa. I think I'm forgiven.

After you have a baby, there's this wonderful short period of miraculous weight loss--after all, you pushed out several pounds of it, plus various fluids I'd rather not think about. But most women don't get all the way down to their pre-pregnancy weight right away, and to make them feel better, their friends might chant that magical "nine months on, nine months off"--in other words, it took you nine months to gain all that weight, so it shouldn't be surprising if it takes nine months to get rid of it.

Or longer.

Or never.

But this morning was the big day for me: Hopped on the scale, and there I was, the pre-Baby me. I'm back in my "skinny" jeans, and I've put away the transitional jeans (a few pairs of those, actually).

Of course I'm not really the pre-Baby me, not physically or in any other way I can think of. Nor would I want to be.

I've been waiting for this moment. I used to read Goodnight Moon to my (much younger) brother and (even younger) sister when they were small, and they both did a similar thing. Baby has learned to say, per the "quiet old lady whispering," hush. And she does it with both vigor and exaggerated pronunciation. We read it through several times this afternoon (she made me skip most of the pages so we could get right to the hushing).

It was a nice break from her early-terrible-twos chant of "no!" She says that with vigor, too.

I should probably add that they were half-price, just in case you doubted me.

It may have been in high school that I first noticed them, but by college I was not able to avoid them: People who shout "woo-hoo!" at parties.

Not only have I never done this, I'm not even sure when or why someone would choose to do it. And yet, my current neighborhood is home to many woo-hooers, including the people next door who are doing it right now.

I think these may be the kind of people who use "party" as a verb. Which I also could never understand: What actually happens when one "parties"? It seems like it's just drinking and listening to bad music and having really boring conversations peppered with the "woo hoos." I used to believe, sincerely, that I just didn't understand, and that there was something going on at these parties that I was missing. Or something I was doing wrong, because sometimes I did "party," I suppose, and I was painfully bored, standing in the crush of bodies, having uncomfortable, banal conversations and drinking rancid beer.

So where does the "woo hoo" come from? It predates the ubiquitous Blur song. Any word freaks want to take a crack at this one?

Finally got the car out today, which meant we also got to restock our freezer with Trader Joe's whole-wheat blueberry toaster waffles. Awesome. And once again I cringed at the clientele at the West End TJ's: 20-something singles who look to be "play shopping," bopping around with just a few cute little bottles and packages in their hand baskets. But the scene at the R Street Starbucks was worse: Seems that the model UN conference at the Marriott had just gone on break, so a huge pack of ugg-booted, mini-skirted resume-stuffers had descended. The orders were flying: Tall vanilla-caramel hot chocolate! Vente cinnamon dolce latte! Make that two!

Which is why, when my tall americano was announced by the cashier, the barista blurted out "Americano? That one's got to be for a grown-up, right?"

Yes, Mr. Barista, I suppose that's what I am.

A devoted RC reader based in Italy drew my attention to some exciting news: Ben and Jerry's has launched a Stephen-themed ice cream flavor! "Stephen Colbert's Americone Dream" is vanilla with fudge-covered waffle cone pieces and caramel swirl. The Fox News website ran the AP story about the new flavor--without comment. But here's what I have to say: I'm so glad it's a vanilla ice-cream based flavor, because I really don't like chocolate ice cream. Too cloying.

Full disclosure: After shoveling today, I salted the front steps and walk with La Baleine sea salt. 'Cause that was all we had in the house.

A full day stretches out ahead with no babysitting and sidewalks too icy and snowy for the stroller.

Gulp.

Baby now requires that I go through every page of the Star Wars visual dictionary looking for pictures of Yoda, followed by a google image search for him. "Woh-dah" is even edging out Elmo. These are heady times.

The Creature, you may have noticed, prefers a truncated blog roll, though she certainly reads many, many more sites on a daily basis. It just looks cleaner this way. However, from time to time she will alert RC readers to a site that, while not rising to the level of the roll, still is noteworthy.

In that spirit, here is PingMag, "the Tokyo-based magazine about 'design and making things' ":

Isn’t it wonderful to live in a country where drunken panda-seals lounge on peanut snack packages sniffing beer?

Yes. It must be.

After hours of extensive coaching by her father, Baby can now say "Yoda!"

These are the moments every mother cherishes.

The scene: Gentle Hatha Yoga Class, noon
The players: One lovely yoga instructor and four very mellow students, including the Creature

So we're leaving class, and one of the other students pulls on her full-length fur coat. And I'm trying to be all yogic and non-judgmental, but all I can think is "wow, that takes balls."

Forgot to look at this on Friday, but Bookslut pointed toward this video entitled "Pitch 'n' Putt with Joyce 'n' Beckett," which seems like a good enough way as any to begin this week.