Anya has just about figured it out. She gets up on all fours (hands and toes, that is) and then lurches herself in the general direction she wishes to travel. In this fashion she throws herself across the floor, making remarkable distance in a surprisingly short time. It’s messy, but it’s official: she’s mobile.

Apparently she’s not going to sleep for more than 15-20 minutes until she has this crawling thing mastered. Right now she’s in her cradle, rocking back and forth, still working on it despite the fact that she is so tired she’s moaning. It would be funny if it weren’t so sad. Last night she wiggled and woke and thrashed and basically made it very clear that a milestone was coming… oh yes, it is coming. I’m exhausted and yet, I’m feeling petty excited for her. I even called Mark at work to demand he revel where he hid the video camera. I took a billion photos of this monster lurch and if she falls asleep, I’ll get them loaded to flikr and share ‘em.

I’m also hoping to show you just how white and boring Coronado is. What’s Coronado? It’s a little peninsula community that insists on calling itself an island and has homes that start around a million dollars. EACH. It’s where Mark does the majority of his residential carpentry. He keeps trying to price himself out of jobs he doesn’t really want to do and the crazy people keep saying OK. As though paying over $7k for custom closets is no big deal. Freaks. In any event, they do have nice parks over there so we went on over today to let Lily play and then pick up Mark for lunch. While there I discovered what could only be fresh graffiti. In very neat and nice handwriting it read: “poop”. Did I take a picture? You can bet your sweet “posterior” I did:


In the meantime someone go listen to my audio post from Thanksgiving. Not one comment and I thought it was darn funny. VALIDATE ME, DAMMIT.