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It's bright and sunny out today. Naturally, it's bitter cold. The digital weather station I got Corey for Christmas last year (it was for him; I swear) said it was 10 degrees outside.
That's right. Ten.
It's winter's catch-22: You want sun? Fine. It's going to be so cold your jeans will creak when you run your daughter across the parking lot to school. What? It's too cold for you? No problem. Here come the clouds. It will be gray and dismal and dreary until you wish someone would sell you a butter knife and make dotted lines across your wrist.
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Several of you have asked via e-mail or Twitter how Teyla is sleeping these days. My assessment is that the sleep training is working. But it's slow going.
She is no longer nursing to sleep, most of the time. (Sometimes I just can't catch her before she nods off.) She will fall asleep in her crib without me holding her, although I do still sit next to the crib and remind her to lay down (either verbally or physically) so as to encourage the sleep.
But she's still waking up multiple times each night, and sometimes, she wakes up and is very alert. For example, this morning she woke up at 5:30 and was ready to go for the day, babbling and looking at her fingers and making homemade movies on her little Mac. She eventually went back to sleep by 6:45, but she was up again (and CRANKY) at 7:00.
So we're making progress. But I'm still relying on coffee far more than I like to make it through the day.
And let's not even talk about the napping. It's Phase 2 of the Great Sleep Project.
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I completely agree with Jennifer's take on Facebook (#6 on her list). I joined the Facebook cult a few weeks ago, after my family lovingly told me I might want to get with the 21st century.
But like Jennifer, I have zero interest in "finding" any people from my past, nor do I want them to find me. So I'm very hidden on Facebook, and so far, I only use it to keep in touch with my family and my real-life friends (and a few blogger friends who found me before I pulled out my super secret identity).
It's a fun way to keep in touch, but as someone who is already fighting to keep the computer from consuming her, I am playing very coy with it.
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I'm trying to finalize my Thanksgiving menu today, a task that is both agony and ecstasy. Thanksgiving dinner is a meal of traditions, not easily refined. No one wants to see a huge fish gracing the table next Thursday, for example. But as a cook, I always want to try something new.
So today is the day. I've been clipping recipes for month, auditioning them in my mind. Today I make the final cut. Should I go with the traditional sweet potato praline casserole? Or should I go with the lighter, roasted harvest vegetables? Should I stick with plain pumpkin pie? Or try the pumpkin-chocolate cheesecake pie? Do I make Pioneer Woman's mashed potatoes? Or Martha Stewart's mom's?
Decisions, decisions.
I'm in heaven.
(Jeni over at One Thing posted a very funny tribute to her foodie sister earlier this week. She captured how I feel about Thanksgiving perfectly. Food is my spiritual gift.)
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Given that I'm slightly excited about Thanksgiving, you might think I've been loving the "Dear Food Network: Thanksgiving" specials. You would be right. I stumbled on the dessert episode Wednesday night, and I'm still lusting after a piece of Alton Brown's pear-cranberry pie. And Ina Garten's nontraditional mixed berry cheesecake? Wow. I've never made a cheesecake before. But I'm mighty tempted to try it after I saw that one. (But for Christmas. I can't NOT make pie for Thanksgiving. Tradition, remember.)
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I checked out a stack of books at the library last week, the first time I've checked out anything for myself in about a year. (Who has time to read when you have a blog and three kids?) I immediately devoured Tony Campolo's "Letters to a Young Evangelical." I don't agree with Mr. Campolo's viewpoint on many things. But he's a spectacular thinker and communicator, and I believe he's very much a prophet, calling the modern Western church to get back to the basics of Christianity and not be swayed away by the siren call of political power or too much Western thinking. I recommend it.
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The sad truth? It's taken me almost six hours to write this post, thanks to constant but sweet interruptions. Which means I'll barely get it posted while it's still Friday. So that clunky title, Jennifer? How about Saturday Seven?
