i'd hate to see the cup of coffee.
One year ago: We see Bowfinger.
Two years ago: We go to San Diego.
Three years ago: We see Conspiracy Theory.
Four years ago: The Kabbalah speaks on Darin's name.
Things are not going well getting Pookie to sleep. To bed at 8pm, up at 11, up at 2, up at 5. Mommy is a little discombobulated. Daddy does not attempt to comfort Pookie any more.
We're going to start with solid food this week, because she's simply ravenous. I know solid food isn't supposed to affect her sleep at all, but...I dream.
Ha. I just noticed I said in the Forum on the ninth that Sophia hadn't been eating much. Things have changed.
Today Darin and I were completely logy (as a result of both being sleepy and both being in weird moods about different subjects). He fell asleep on the bed in the baby's room. Sophia was being a veritable whirlwind of energy -- very difficult when both parents are not doing well -- and I was finding it tough to keep her amused.
So I packed her into the car and went to look at some open houses. I'm not saying it's the biggest fun in the world, but it's fun to dream. And the new environments certainly do wonders at keeping Pookie fascinated.
I picked a five bedroom house near ours. And yes, I drove there: it was 100 degrees here. I wanted to see what a five-bedroom looks like.
The house was totally great. It had five excellent bedrooms, including a guest "suite" downstairs. (Considering it was off the kitchen, I think it was also known as the maid's quarters, but does anyone have a live-in maid if they don't have an actual "estate"?) Huge redwood deck. Amazing view of the Valley.
The backyard was easily a hundred feet down from the redwood deck. Straight down.
I could just imagine teeny feet going all the way down there. Or even worse.
The house was great though. Too bad. And Sophia totally dug the real estate agent -- she stared at him the whole time from her perch in my sling.
Then I drove by another place that had five bedrooms and seven bathrooms. (Every bedroom had its own bathroom.) Again, a pretty great house, except for the fact that it had four levels inside, and that's an awful lot of tempting stairs for a teeny tot.
And there was about twenty feet of backyard. Total. The lot was all house, no land.
At the third house, I got out of the car, opened the backdoor, and discovered Pookie sound asleep. So I didn't wake her up to look at the house.
Yesterday we went to Chick-Fil-A for lunch with Fernando. It's in some shopping center south of the airport and it's the only place around here where we can find Darin's favorite fast food. On the way back we stopped at Randy's Donuts, because Fernando's wife Nancy wanted some of their donuts. Darin and I had never been there before, so it was our first visit to this LA landmark.
It's got a big donut, that's for sure.
I stayed in the car with Mlle. Pookie while Darin and Fernando went hunting the wild donut. Darin left the car running, so we could have the air conditioning. I discovered I had all sorts of weird ideas about getting carjacked in that situation.
The car next to ours was a black Lexus with windows tinted completely black. The guy in the passenger seat rolled down the window. I didn't see anyone else in the car, just him. Then he lifted a breath spray and sprayed once. Then again. And again. He must have sprayed about thirty or forty times. I don't know if he was really preparing for those donuts or what.
I had a chocolate chocolate donut. Pretty good. I think the best were the buttermilk. The Krispy Kreme original glazed are still the best.
All those hints about my birthday would have worked better had I posted the entry for the ninth on the ninth, eh?
In the Forum:
Add your two cents to a discussion about having children.
I just got the new Vanity Fair with Gwyneth on the cover. The photo feature is all about girls who have "it." Several of them are photographed smoking. Is smoking still cool? No, seriously, does it make these chicks look sexy?
By the way, the issue is worth glancing through for the article on the Hilton sisters. I don't even know what to say about those two. One thing I thought was very odd, however: much reference is made to what Nicky and Paris do while they're not at home with their folks...but nothing is ever said outright. Are they doing drugs on the bar? Having sex on the bar? Both?
The answer to Wednesday's question: Richard M. Nixon resigned, of course.
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Copyright 2000 Diane Patterson
Send comments and questions to diane@nobody-knows-anything.com