There is a Gjerdrum and a Popiel in our house. This is not really a bad thing at all, but I just feel as though it's the neighbourly thing to do to let y'all know that Those People From Victoria have arrived. They've also brought that kid whut they made, which is awesome, as it gives Hazel something else to abuse.
Apparently there was a gaggle of Womenfolk at the house last night (that word comes from the German 'vimmenvolk', a term used in the 15th century to describe groups of women that would disappear into the woods to dance nekkid and bake pies with evil spells in them. It's true, I looked it up and everything.) who were all drinking various fruity alcohol beverages, so I half-expected the house to be covered in unfinished crochet projects and pictures of naked men when I got home; as it happened, all I found when I got home was my daughter.
Awake.
At 1:00 a.m.
Staring at me. In that way, y'know? That way that asks, who are you and what are you doing in my house and where is my shotgun?
Anyway: today is that Rock The Bells show, featuring almost EVERY HIP-HOP ARTISTS EVER. The funny thing is that everyone I know who's going is planning on taking their kids; I can only imagine what RZA or Nas or Cypress Hill will think to look out over the audience and see nothing but an ocean of strollers and diaper bags.
Breakfast awaits. Breakfast, and NAPS.
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