Kindle thinks I like what?

I love my Kindle. I really only read books on my Kindle. I may be a technology laggard in every other aspect, but with Kindles, I'm all "Hey Pres, did you see the new Kindle? Paper white! OMG! Like totally! I know I have a Kindle that came out, like, last year. And another Kindle sitting in a drawer next to my passport and my 2004 iPod Nano, but PAPER WHITE! OMG!" And Pres is all "Hang on, I'm cataloging my Apple products museum right now, I don't have time for this Kindle. You should ask Seri about it."

When you read books on a Kindle, sometimes you see these phrases underlined. This means that A. You underlined these excerpts because you liked them, or B. Kindle wants to show you that 96 other people liked and highlighted the phrase, so you should know that it is a good one.

Sometimes these phrases are really thoughtful, or big moments in the book that change everything.

But the one I just read in Stephanie Plum #16 was this:

"I'm wearing four inch slut shoes. I can't kick a door down in slut shoes. It isn't done. You need boots to kick a door down. Everyone knows that."

They do now, Kindle. They do now.

Don't You Dare, Mama.

Don't you dare get comfortable, Mama. Don't even think about acting confident that I sleep through the night. Don't even talk about it. I swear, if you do it, the very next night I'm gonna throw a kickin' party in my crib and everyone's invited. I'll dance all over this house. Hammer time.

I mean it, Mama. I mean it.

Now make my Tigger bounce.

SHOW PANG

That's shopping, y'all. I've been doing a lot of it. Well, I say that, but mostly I've been perusing Pinterest "Women's Fashion" pictures. And I've decided that I'm in love with the big bag lady sweaters that somehow are stylish now. Thank you Mary Kate and Ashley!

I bought some cool striped ones this weekend at Ann Taylor Loft (ON SALE, HOLLA) and man, they are so comfy. It seriously feels like I am wearing a hug. Like someone could walk up to me and say, "Hey, that's a cool hug you are wearing." And I would be like, "Thanks, I enjoy it."  It's my new requirement for when I'm considering a purchase. If it doesn't feel like a hug - not buying it. The exception is if it makes me look like a hot super model goddess rock star.

I also just bought house slippers...

Short pause so you can laugh about me buying house slippers

... I wanted some that made it feel like I was walking on clouds. I found them. In the review on Amazon, it actually said "feels like walking on clouds."

I will only wear clouds and hugs from this day forth.

I've been using Preston's credit card to make these purchases and I get a kick out the confirmation emails. Thank you, PRESTON! You Ann Taylor Loft order has been received.  Congratulations, PRESTON! Your Zappos.com purchase has shipped.

Online shopping is so cool. It's much cooler that in person shopping because you don't have to do all that work. It's even cooler if you say it like this: SHOW PANG!

I still have a blog???

I miss blogging. I feel like I'm neglecting to document memories here. Like everyone is missing out on the amazing but normal things that Charlie does everyday. But every time I sit down to write, something happens and I put it off again.

I think it's a slow process, the adding back of those things you do for yourself, when there is so much you have to do for someone else.

Like I just now finished the book I started two weeks before Charlie was born. That's five months ago, y'all. And I just stared reading blogs again, and thinking about fashion again. I rode my bike for the first time last week.

Not to mention that now I somehow have a "nightly beauty regime." I call it that because I never did any of that junk before, but now I have one. Face cream, stretch mark cream, foot cream. I miss just falling into bed sometimes, but what would I do without my creams?!? Probably melt.

Anyway, I'd like to add back blogging. We will see how it goes.

Things I've Thrown at Preston

Right now, I'm sitting in my living room, on my big brown couch, watching Preston rock Charlie. They both look like they're sleeping but I'm quite certain that neither of them are actually asleep. When I am the one sitting in the rocker, holding my baby and patiently waiting for him to close his eyes and drift off into nap land, Preston is usually sprawled out on this big brown couch, sometimes underneath an old, ugly-but-feels-like-a-cuddle quilt given to me by my high school boyfriend's mom. Sometimes, his head has landed on the pillow that we use to prop our feet on, or that our dog uses as a prop for one of his disgusting chew toys. You know, the pillow that we should throw away but haven't yet.

Usually, the moment that I notice how comfortable Preston looks on this couch is the same moment that I need him to do something for me, like bring me a pacifier, or a soft blinkie, or a wet rag, or my phone or a glass of water or a snack. I could go on. Some of these things are not really necessary, but more often than not, what I need is for a blanket to be laid out on the guest bed in a swaddle style so I can wrap Charlie up and lay him down for a nap.

I can't just say "Hey Pres, go lay me out a swaddle!" because of the precious sleeping baby in my arms. And surprisingly, Preston doesn't wake to the sound of me whispering his name repeatedly, no matter how many times I try it and will it to work.

So I throw things at him.

Not big, hurtful things, but soft things, or small things. Like a balled up blanket, or our Winnie the Pooh toy/blanket thingie, or a throw pillow, or this teething ring, or a pacifier. I aim for the couch area around him, or his arm, and it usually wakes him enough so that when I whisper yell his name, he opens his eyes. I don't think he ever realizes that I've just thrown an arsenal of baby items at him.

Poor guy.