Delia's Song: September 2006

Delia's One, One More Round, Delia's One (with apologies to Johnny Cash)

Saturday was my first birthday. I like these birthday things. They are great fun. People sing to me and give me things. Like this rocking horse from my Grandma Karen.

On your birthday, lots of people come to see you. Here's my Grandma Margie and two of her sisters, my Great Aunt Shelby and Great Aunt Becky. Pink was the color of the day for Grandma Margie and her siblings. Her brother P.D.--my great uncle--didn't get the memo. Silly P.D.

Here I am reading a book of fairy tales my Grandma Karen and Grandpa Bruce got me to my Dad. That's my second cousin Ashley waiting to hand me another present. I hope that when I grow up I am as smart and sassy as she is (and as good at hunting and fishing).

That rocking horse that Grandma Karen and Grandpa Bruce got me was very popular. Here is a giant bear that my Grandma Margie and Grandpa Dean got me giving it a try:

And here's my 14-year old cousin Caitlin giving it a try and hoping that no one is looking:

Caitlin and her sister Emily and brother Zach are really cool because they and their parents (Dad's cousin Tim and his wife Mary) adopted one of our puppies (Barley). Caitlin and Emily and Zach talked their dad into taking the dog even though he didn't want to. I will have to take lessons from them as I grow up.

One of the best parts about being born in the fall is that I get cool Halloween presents for my birthday. Here's one from my Great Aunt Karen:

And no first birthday party is complete without a cake. Or two.

But as they say, it's my party and I'll cry if I want to.

As it turns out, everyone forgot that one-year olds need naps. So after one, we tried the cake thing again, this time much more successfully.

My Uncle Michael, long the baby in the family, felt displaced so he had to steal some of my cake. Imagine, stealing cake from a baby. How cliche.

I think that blue is my color, don't you?

Wheeee! Sugar buzz!!!!

But all that gluttony left me feeling a little strange.

Do I really have to finish this whole cake, I asked.

Yes was the answer, so back to work I went.

But my gluttony was rewarded with a frolic in Grandma Margie and Grandpa Dean's whirlpool

For those of you who want to see the cake in action, here's some video.

Eating cake can be surprisingly startling

And if you watch this one closely, you'll see me say bye to some of my guests:

Birthdays so much fun, I want to have one every year! And in case you forgot, here's what I looked like a year ago:

And one last (giant) comparison:

Daddy's Girl

Where do my curls end and Dad's begin?

And Nothing But the Truth

Dad got called before Congress to explain some of his recent unAmerican activites.

Just kidding. Yesterday, he was sworn into the WV Bar and admitted to practice before the West Virginia Supreme Court of Appeals and the United States District Court for the Southern District of West Virginia. He's even more impossible to live with now.

Hello to All on the West Coast!

CLICK ME!!!

Taste Test

Saturday is my birthday. Here I am sampling some cakes that Mom baked to prepare:

The Dog Days of Summer

Last weekend, Mom and Dad took me down to a swimmin' hole on the Greenbrier River. We have no pictures because all the batteries were dead. I had a great time splashing in the river and watching the bigger kids swim around. Dad ran Jax and Maggie ragged throwing a stick halfway across the river. Jax would chase the stick and Maggie would chase Jax.

So we went to the river with two dogs; we came home with five. Dad says Mom has a soft spot for stray animals, which may explain Mom and Dad's relationship. Anyway, this stray puppy kept coming up to Mom and I while Dad was playing with Jax and Maggie. In fact, it curled up in my lap. She was clean, but skinny skinny skinny. Mom felt sorry for the puppy and looked at Dad with her own puppy dog eyes and he agreed to bring it home. Then the puppy's brother and sister came out of the woods after they heard that their sister had landed them a place to stay.

So now we have three stray puppies hanging around the house. They need to go. Everytime I try to crawl when they are in the room, they lick me. Not cool.

Here are the dogs. Someone take them. Please. I am supposed to be the center of attention, and I will not be displaced by any puppy or three.

Barley (Dad wants me to say sorry to Michelle and Andy for stealing their dog's name):

Bailey:

Briar, the one who found us:

We think that they are mountain feists: an Appalachian breed of squirrel huntin' dogs that are a cross between beagles, hounds, rat terriers, and kangaroos. Just kidding about the kangaroos. That was a tribute to the croc hunter.

Anyway, someone help get these puppies out of my house. When Mom and Dad weren't looking, I locked them in jail:

Modern Technology

Here in the 21st Century, my Mom and Dad can share some of my first steps with the world. But all the technology in the world can't help the fact that Mom and Dad didn't think much about the lighting. So here I am walking, in the dark.

The Good Life

A girl could get used to the pace of life here in West Virginia.
Here I am just squatting, tellin' stories.

Like Mother, Like Daughter...Or...Freakiness Runs in the Family

Grandma Karen and Grandpa Bruce wanted everyone to know that my unnatural affinity for pickles may be genetic. They sent me these pictures of my Mom:

Look at that fiendish look in her eyes in the second one. I think I'm going to sleep with the lights on tonight in case mom has a dream that I'm a pickle.

Mmmmm...Pickle

Some parents dream of having their child become the Gerber baby. My Dad, he wants me to become the Appalachian Pickle baby. I like pickles and all, as you can see below, but I think that Mom may be right and that Dad is a chronic underachiever.

Welcome Back Sports Fans...

We are officially settled in here in West By God. Just one more box to unpack. Yesterday was Dad's first day at work and today Grandma Margie and Grandpa Dean came down to visit and watch the WVU vs. Marshall Game -- an intrastate rivalry here that is a wannabe Civil War (the fabled annual game between the University of Oregon and Oregon State University). But whereas the Oregon intrastate game has a decent name -- the Civil War for those of you who may have forgotten since reading the previous sentence -- the game in WV is called the Friends of Coal Bowl. A supposed "grass roots" group came up with a million dollars (from the coal industry no doubt) and bought the naming rights). The game was filled with commercials promoting the destruction of WV's environment and economy. Dad kept making this sound like he was throwing up a little bit in his mouth, but he feels better now and has agreed to help me post some pictures to my blog so that people quit bothering me about it.

For the record, we did escape Rock Port, MO, largely unscathed, but Dad may have some cool scars to show later.

Now, to the pictures:

Here is the fleet of rigs that it took to move us from Or-y-gun to West By God:

If you are ever in Evanston, WY, and need a place to stay, check out this place. Its clean, cheap, and the rooms are huuuuuuuuuuugggggeeee:

Here is a picture of our new digs: a 100-year old farmhouse with crystal doorknobs, a creepy basement, and a probable ghost or two to find before Halloween:

Mom and Dad like to swing with me on the front porch swing:

I have two new teeth but I won't show them to you; we don't know each other well enough and I'm not that kind of girl. But I am working on my walking and standing. Here I am working on my crane kick like that Karate Kid dude: