Look Into My Eyes...

Ha ha. Now you are under my spell. I want a pony. Give it to me.

Girls Gone Wild

Spring Break Mommy Style.

While all of her classmates are partying it up over spring break, Mom used her time off to take me to the park.

Road Trip!

Ready to go! I outgrew my infant carrier, so Mom and Dad had to get me a new carseat. Here I am trying it on for size.

By the way, if the EvenFlo people are interested, I'm available to model their wares.

An Infinite Number of Monkeys...

If you're like a lot of people, then you are wondering how in the world a six-month old is able to type so well. I am very precocious. But not that precocious. Most of what I write is dictated and transcribed by one of my servants. I sat down and tried to type this one myself, and this is what I came up with:

L,?zat ghb h nnnnnn /./.’?/,?>..’;

‘;.ll.t nk jbn b v bn [

ax



They say that if you gave an infinite number of monkeys an infinite number of typewriters and an infinite amount of time, they would eventually compose Hamlet. I need more monkeys.

By the way, I went to the doctor today and he said that I weigh 17 pounds, 3 ounces and was 26 and 3/4 inches long, for those of you keeping score at home. That puts me in the 75th percentile. Dad says that unacceptable because that's only like a C and that I need to do better. Mom says Dad puts too much pressure on me.

Gratuitous Smiley Baby Pic...

I had to post something to get that creepy lamb off of the top of the page.

Here I am on Saturday playing in my new play wall that Mom put together for me. I got it for Christmas from my Grandma Karen, but I am just now big enough to play in it. I got this cool sparkly shirt from my Great Aunt Shelby, who you can see two posts below.

Mary Had a Little (Freaky) Lamb...

Dad says I am as unique as a six-legged lamb. Mom says Dad needs to work on his metaphors.

A Shoutout to Cousin Lesley

Dad's cousin Lesley (my first cousin, once removed) was kind enough to post a picture of me and my dad on her blog at themacpage.blogspot.com. You should go see her blog if you haven't been there before.

Lesley was also cool enough to leave a couple of my comments here on this blog. I like it when people leave comments. I'm very needy that way.

I don't have any pictures of me and Lesley because I haven't met her yet (though I am sure I will after Mom and Dad and I move to West Virginia at the end of the summer). But I do have this picture of me and Lesley's mom, my Aunt Shelby. It was taken when I was young last Thanksgiving at my Grandma Margie's.

Well I'll Be Pittsnogled

Kwynsie Pittsnogle (or what we assume he looks like since there are no known pictures of him on the web)

Unless you live in a cave, you know that Kevin Pittsnogle is the greatest three-point shooter in the history of West Virginia University basketball. He also has the best name in all of sports.

Well Kevin Pittsnogle's wife gave birth in February to their first child--a boy named Kwynsie Pittsnogle. Kevin is known for his tattoos, so Dad assumes that Kwynsie must look like the baby boy in the picture above.

When Mom found out that there was a little Pittsnogle in the world she said, "Ye gods, the poor bastard has a worse last name than we do."

Dad agreed, and pointed out that the only way that it could be worse if I married Kwynsie and became Delia _____-Pittsnogle.

Dad now considers me betrothed to Kwynsie Pittsnogle. He thinks it'll bring some height into the family. Mom thinks that the Pittsnogles probably have other plans.

UPDATE -- Dad's attorney told me that I should point out that Mom's reference to Master Pittsnogle as a "poor bastard" was not meant in any way to call into question his legitimacy.

UPDATED AGAIN -- Dad had a fit of paranoia and decided to take our last name off the blog (and line the walls of our house with tinfoil so they couldn't listen to his thoughts anymore). If you know us, you can fill in the blank above.

In the Meantime...

My Uncle Michael has a cool new CD out. He composed and produced the album, and plays banjo and guitar on all the songs. Go buy one. Now.

If you don't want to take my word for how great this album is, take a listen for yourself.
There's not a man, woman, or baby alive that won't like this album.

Speaking of banjos, Mom told me that Dad wanted to name me Amanda Lynn and teach me to play the mandolin. He thinks that he is more clever than he really is.

To Nap or Not To Nap, That is The Question

Here I am last weekend at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland, Oregon with Mom, Dad, Grandma Karen, Grandpa Bruce, and Uncle Tyler. I am exhausted. Ashland is a really cool little town nestled in the Siskiyou Mountains on the Oregon/California border. It snowed on us while we there (and on the drive, but Dad's a great driver in the snow so I didn't worry).

Mom and Dad went to see A Winter's Tale while I hung out with Grandma Karen and Grandpa Bruce. Mom and Dad were surprised at the show because they knew one of the actors. They were in Romeo and Juliet with him in 1999 in San Diego. They hadn't seen him in years. Mom and Dad always like to see actors that they know get work (even if they get a little jealous).

Eh Toi!

Here's Dad and me in a Mardi Gras parade on February 28. Mom, Dad, and I are members of the Krewe of LaFayette Street, and got to particpate in the second annual Krewe of LaFayette Street Mardi Gras Parade--the only Mardi Gras parade in Portland and, as far as we know, the shortest in the world (one city block in front of Jim's house). Last year, Dad was the Grand Marshall of the parade. But he didn't do a very good job so they invited somebody else this year.
Dad says that I should tell you not to ask how I got those really cool beads. Mom says that Dad is not very funny.

Hello Blogosphere!

Mom and Dad say that they want to find me an agent. I reminded them about the scary, gollum-like creatures that the Olson twins had become. Dad said that he didn't care cause the Olson twins were billionaires. Hmmmm. Dad is willing to sacrifice my self-esteem and body image for the sake of the filthy luchre? Mom says Dad doesn't have his priorities straight.

Look Out Stagger Lee!

That's the song that I sung...

Today I am six months old. Dad set this blog up for me for my birthday, at Grandma Margie's suggestion. She's really good at getting Dad to do things that he has been putting off for a while.