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We were lucky to be among the eleven people Mark and Kristin had over for paella last night. Amy says, on our way home, with intention: "That was the best paella I've had since Spain." Ouch. It was good, I must admit. But the best since Spain? She really knows how to hurt a guy.
After eating paella we feted the birthday girl and the birthday boy. Oh. And Consuelo, who has come out of retirement.
Six candles successfully extinguished. Say that five times fast after five glasses of Ondarre rioja.
Consuelo had a good night, too.
The rules of etiquette do not allow us to reveal whom of the eleven of us uttered the line of the night: "On the day you were born I was smoking opium with a cockney dwarf in Marrakech."
Mama A's been sick the past few days. As is the case with fevers, she alternated between shivering chills when the fever was high and then massive, pouring sweats when the fever broke. This cycle carried on for a couple days. Today Mama A decided she felt well enough to take a long, hot shower. Deeeeelightful. Relishing in her newly cleaned, fresh self and feeling somewhat more energetic, Mama A creeps into Baby J's room post nap. As is custom, Baby J squeals with delight, Mama A squeals back, much squealing ensues and then Mama A begins one of her favorite baby snuggle acts. She lifts Baby J high above her head and then, lowering him slightly to face level, does the motorboat on his belly. Baby J giggles gleefully at this maneuver while post-shower Mama comes to the slow realization that she is rubbing her just-bathed face and hair in her son's urine-soaked onesie. (hyphens anyone?) It seems nearly impossible to escape baby/toddler output these days. Too bad Papa A didn't post anything about the morning he got smeared in poo poo just before work, because then there would be a pretty cool link right here.