Shave & A Haircut...

...Sixty bucks.

That's how much it costs to groom a dog. Of course, this includes a shampoo and a nail trim, so I shouldn't complain. But until I get a new hairdo and a pedicure, I'm gonna be resentful.

On a lighter note, I visited the three-day old Finn today. Since Cecelia is about the most private person on the planet, here is a picture of Pipsqueak at Finn's exact age: dark hair, teeny eyes, olive skin, rosebud mouth. Horses and newborns - they all look the same to me. But let me add: the baby is stunning and healthy and I couldn't be happier for the lucky parents. Every time I hold a newborn my ovaries do twisty flips and I have this urge to eat them. I wonder how many points Weight Watchers would give for a 7 pound infant? Just one little bite? I don't deny I have a problem. But so does my online mama blogger buddy, Toni, who refers to her friend's new baby as "Snack."

Some not so great notes:

I am so behind in queries, that if my writing were my period, I'd be about seven months prego. Perhaps if I went after my samples with the same reckless abandon as the pink and white animal cookies I just ate I'd be a freelancing writer now. (Sidenote: half a bag of Mother's Circus animals is equivalent to 500 calories. But if it saves me from rushing back to the hospital and consuming Cecelia's infant, it's for the best.)

My Ebay has hit an all time slump. I'm trying to make the best of my $1.99 sale last week, but you know what? It sucks.

In conclusion, Cousin H and M are coming by for a few hours tonight to play with Pip & Stink. Yes, Rex and I have become those people: the ones who stay home on Saturday nights while the kids make forts out of our couch pillows and dig for worms in our patio.

Oh, and in an effort to teach my daughter colors, I am putting food dye in her milk bottles. I hope she doesn't have a C-section one day only to have her doctor scream, "Good Lord, woman, your uterus is magenta!" This, of course, would followed by Pip's, "That's nothing. My breast milk is periwinkle."

Here's a shot of our Scooby Doo bluuuuuuuuu milk, courtesy of Stink. I may, or may not, have told him that the little plastic food dye bottle we used was really a vile of vampire blood that Mommy snatched from the haunted castle while he was taking his nap. "Mommy is very brave," I relayed to him. At which he responded, "And she made a biiiiig fart, too, which scared the vampire away."

Good day. As much as I'd like to type, I have queries to write, Ebay photos to take, and yogurt to dye rustic red.