Hey Jakey,

Sitting here doing my customary futzing around on a Sunday morning before I actually sit down to work.

Here's what you're up to this week:

• That tooth on the top right finally broke thru.
• You've flip-flopped your ways: a couple of weeks ago you would only nurse sitting with me on our little couch, and you balked at nursing lying down in bed (which kinda sucked, cuz momma can take a little catnap that way...), but now you hate the couch and want "nursies" in bed.
• Yesterday, you let go of daddy's leg and walked about six and a half steps towards the kitchen. I thought you were gonna make it all the way over there, make yourself a sammich and walk all the way back. You looked that good! Alas, you fell to your knees and crawled on back. But watching that was pretty fucking intense.
• You're finally sitting with your feet out in front of you, instead of sitting on your knees. For a while there, you were sitting on one knee, with one foot out in front (very weird), but as of day before yesterday, you're finally sitting like a normal baby. I was starting to get worried.

I wanted to pay off the balance of your ped bill this week so I could take you in for your nine-month well-baby appointment, but since my insurance SUX ASS (Yeah! Universal Health Network! I'm talkin' to YOU! ASS SUCKER! FUCK OFF and DIE! And my company can EAT SHIT for choosing UHN in the first goddamn place!!! UHN: the only insurance in which a "free" yearly dental cleaning winds up costing $348, and one well-baby visit winds up costing $450. LAME!), the balance was a wee bit larger than I had originally planned. So we're going to have to wait till payday and THEN we'll take you. It's not that I don't love you, dear heart, its just that you cost lots and lots o'money. It's hard to keep up.

I miss C. She's been in D.C. for almost 2 weeks now, and I didn't realize how much of a buffer she is between myself and the rest of the office. Going on smoke breaks with just H is kind of a downer.

About that... I really don't smoke that much. I don't smoke at home, I don't smoke on my days off. I don't smoke alone. I'm at the point that I don't even smoke in the car anymore. So I guess the official breakdown is this: 3-4 cigs each Monday, Tuesday and Friday. That's really not that bad, 9-12 cigs a week. As Bridget Jones would say, "vvg." Your daddy suspects, but doesn't have the hard evidence yet to nail me.

I guess we're going to San Jose for T-giving. Oh well. At least we can take a trip to the beach, maybe go to the drive-in. Pig out at Mr. Chau's and Falafel Drive-in. Go to Whole Foods. Wait! All that costs money. Maybe I can just hang out at Mother Carol's house and chat with her for five days. Groan. I'd rather sit in my car in some random parking lot, listening to the radio, yeah, for five whole days.

Well, the sooner I get to it, the sooner I can go home. See you soon, and love you!