I'm yawning and snacking at the same time.

I have been pretty terrible at this as of late, huh? I will tell you something I hate more than anything, and that is the bullet list blog. You know, a list of this and that that has not been formatted into paragraphs? Disgusting. But I feel as though I need to do a list like that, because I have a lot to report.

3. We went to New Orleans for Memorial Day weekend. I didn't drink a drop (more on that later). There were a lot of really drunk people there, and not being one of them was... odd. I am pretty positive it saved us a pile of cash, the lack of bar hopping. All the root beer barrels we had at the Green Parrot in Key West really broke the bank on that trip. We did eat a lot, because we're gluttons from hell. We ate things like this, that made us very full and satisfied, while at the same time disgusted with ourselves.


Also, we met up with Megan and Shane, who are Memphis-Americans (I have robbed that term from Toby, by the way) that we have never met in Memphis; we rode the streetcar a lot, I lost $5 in a slot machine, Brandon found out too late that he could not order a sandwich at the Cafe Du Monde, we saw some nice jazz at the Rock and Bowl, went for walks in the Garden District and Audobon Park, and, yes, laid up in the hotel room watching cable, drinking gin (B) and napping (me).

2. We had a pretty fine potluck in which Brandon took some of the finest party pics I have seen in quite some time. The theme was "Summertime" and the food was very nice and Liz came, which made me very very happy!

1. Ok, on with the show. The big news: We are going to have a little baby Dilbro at the end of the year! Yep, that is right, we decided to make the big leap into parenthood. I think turning 28 made the tick tock of my clock go bang bang bang and I decided it was time to shit or get off the pot. We made the baby in the normal way, as in we took off our pants and looked each other in the eyes tenderly. I have to say that sex without a net for me was pretty mystical and now feels even moreso since I have the knowledge that everything went to work as it was intended and we created a teeny spark of mushy human life that is growing bigger everyday. According to Babycenter.com, it's now the size of a kumquat, which looks like this:

Crazy shit, huh? We are terribly excited and I am ready to get a nice round belly. I am 10 weeks along as of this weekend and I am already ready to meet this weird, tall person. However, I can wait, and in the meantime I am giving the little booger lots of water, veggies, cookies, fried chicken, yogurt, tofu, cheese, cereal, and fish oil capsules, which are apparently very good for its brain. Although my boobs are a size bigger and I have to take a nap 5 days a week when I get home, the whole thing is still just *brimming* with unreality, and in two weeks I will be very glad when we return to the midwife and get to hear the heartbeat for the first time.

Ok, now I have to do an interview and have a snack. I'm fucking starving.

I'm gone tomorrow... baby, follow me down

As I was driving to work this morning, a rather frenetic sense of just fucking being alive washed over me, and I filled up with a certain kind of energy that you feel when you are very lucky. It's much better than caffeine. The only problem is that I have to come waste it here, and although I'm very willing to shill food stamps to people because Lord, everybody wants to eat, I can help but selfishly wish that I was either a) sitting on the banks of the Mississippi River, drinking a 40; 2) sipping a galao with my husband in a small cafe in Porto, Portugal; or 3) lounging naked on springtime clover eating a Tomboy cupcake. Instead, I guess I'll try to hang on to some sense of vitality until 4:30, which I am telling myself is NOT a long time away.

I am feeding my mood with the Avett Brothers this morning because they are like the best band ever ever ever. Seriously. If anyone needs to know, I can burn you a copy of my "Amanda's Ultimate Avetts Mix," some of my favorites. I have every CD of theirs in my catalog now, thanks to my lovely brother in law:

It makes me particularly proud because I turned him onto them. I'm kind of like a Christian missionary, see? But instead of forcing my religious beliefs on indigenous peoples, I'm just spreading the gospel of music holy music.

Yesterday I discovered a seller on Etsy that just knocked my socks off, and made me consider papercutting, which, I am ashamed to say, I never had before. A few examples of her gorgeous, intricate work:

Aren't those incredible? She has a whole blog devoted to her papercuts here, and you can find her Etsy shop here. I think I will get my mom & niece a couple of her smaller storybook character prints to frame for Xmas presents, and I really really want one of the larger ones for myself. I bookmarked it on our computer, we will see if Mr. Dill remembers that I did so. Time will tell. I want to just order one for myself right this minute but I'll have some self control.

What else, what else? Oh yes, inspired by posts by Mrs. Lies, and the experiences of other married friends I have who have gone off the pills and been pleased with the results, I have decided to ditch the hormones. Liz has been induced into reading Henry Miller by this, for God's sakes, how can I ignore that? So now I have to decide what alternative I want to use. I wish I could just go to Walgreens and buy a sampler platter, like appetizers at T.G.I. Friday's. I have experiences with condoms, but that's it, so I believe I'll weigh my options. Since I'm a child/young adult of the 1990s, I feel the impulse to try the Today sponge, in a nod to Elaine on Seinfeld, but I don't know if contraception choice based on a sitcom is wise.

The infrastructure will collapse

Yesterday's moment of shame: I was in Midtown Video, waiting to check out, and Juno was playing on their huge, discolored television set. I saw this movie in the theater, back in December when it came out. It was right after I had started listening to Kimya Dawson a lot, plus it looked cute and cool. And I'm not saying it was a bad movie, I'd watch it again. But Ellen Page makes me want to pop her head like a grape, and the dialogue was a little Dawson's Creek-y. (Speaking of which, some commercial for a new TV drama that stars Joshua Jackson came on at the movies the other night, and before I could help myself, I shouted "Pacey!" Ok, maybe I didn't shout).

OK, back to the story in which I am a total stereotype of a woman approaching 30... The birth scene begins, which is accompanied by Cat Power's cover of Sea of Love. And my face starts doing that crumple cry thing, because a baby is being born on television. And my uterus wants a baby inside it, Goddammit! And then I'm like SHUT THE FUCK UP UTERUS, YOU'VE GOT TO GO WITH ME TO GRAD SCHOOL AND THEN WE'LL TALK ABOUT IT.

Am I the only one who wants to have sex immediately upon hearing this song??


The kind of sex you have with someone you at least sort of love, in a room that is dark but slightly illuminated by a streetlight shining in the window. Lots of intense eye contact sex.

None of these thoughts are helping my dedication to my work this morning.