One thing the Fool and I have been utterly stunned about is how two intelligent, well-educated adults can spend valuable dinner conversation discussing poop. Has Jamie pooped today? When? Did the diaper cover contain it? How's the broccoli? Can I get you another piece of chicken?
If this also surprises or grosses you out, uh, here's a couple more pictures of orchids. And then you should go check out this site, which will be - I promise - more intelligent.
Over the weekend, while the Fool had St. Patrick's Month gigs, Jamie and I hopped on a bus and headed for Madison to help Thorny with some spring cleaning and enjoy the Madison Knit In. Saturday morning, we stopped for coffee and breakfast, and headed for the shuttle bus pickup site. We were running late.
This is what we were behind.
Three guys in a slow-moving pickup, and see which one is driving? The one who ought to be sitting on a phone book so he can see over the dashboard.
Anyway, we got there in plenty of time to hear the Yarn Harlot's talk. Jamie had fallen asleep in the sling on the bus, and slept through about a third of the talk and when he woke up and wanted to get out of the sling, it became clear that there was, as the household joke goes, a big prize in his pants.
I went to the back of the auditorium, changed his diaper, and discovered that it was, well, a really big prize. Possibly a jackpot. So we went off to the women's room afterwards so I could wash my hands and his feet and left leg and returned to our seat to hear the rest of the talk.
Which was funny, I think. Because as soon as I sat down, I smelled a distinctive odor again, one that I thought I had removed from my general surroundings, and it started to drive me crazy.
It made the Yarn Harlot's talk sound like this:
"Knitting, brain function, blah, blah, blah ... oh, no, what smells? ... monks meditating ... But I just changed him! ... Joe's old truck, blah, blah, blah ... is it his feet? I washed his feet .... knitting, self-esteem ... maybe his butt? Does he need changing again?! ... hotel room, blah, blah, blah ... his hand? Did he get it on his hand?! ... underpants with 'cowgirl' on the butt ... Are you sure his feet are clean? ... hiding naked behind the ice machine ... better look between his toes ... knitting makes you a better person. Oh God. I think it's on my sleeve."
Nevertheless, I managed to quell my horror - and push up my sleeves - so we could spend a little time (and some money) in the vendor area, and say hello to the Harlot afterward, as the last time Jamie had been to hear her speak, he had still been on the inside. He was asleep again.
Furthermore, he's been busy growing teeth (four on the top!) and this requires him to wake up frequently during the night and so in the photo Thorny took, the Harlot looks about like she does, and I look like someone who was woken up five times a night for three nights running. So, uh, take my word for it. We were there, she was there, it was great fun.
(This is an extra photo I took when I went to look for my wallet and realized my purse had been completely taken over by yarn and Jamie. Sigh, again. All I need is a Tupperware of Cheerios, and I'm done for.)