A Poot by any other name

People have been known to ask us, "So what do you call her?" And by that, I think they mean, "Salome is such a weird and exotic name, you don't actually say it out loud, do you?" Well yes, we do. But in the spirit of our family to develop new and strange nicknames, Salome as evolved(or devolved) into some other things that we do call her from time to time. Like, take the cat for instance(take my cat, please!). Her name is Legolas. Yes, like the elf. And if you're keeping track, the other cats' names are Feanor, Gingersnap and Fig Newton. So Mr. Dungeons & Dorks named his cats after Tolkien characters and I named mine after cookies. So what. What did you name your cat? Snookums!? I thought so.

Anyhoo, Salome has turned into Sally, then Sal, then Salad-by her 3 year old cousin. When she's nakie and scooting around on the floor all pink and wriggly she's Salamander. Sometimes Salami(salomi-I don't know, the lunch meat, you know what I mean), which is a name I don't like and the biggest reason I didn't want to name her Salome, because I know how kids at school can be and she'll hate me because I named her after a sandwich meat. Then there's Sally Moo, Sally Mae and Salo Mia, Salo Mia, Salo Mia let me go(magnifico-o-o-o). Don't even get me started with Pooter. That became Poot, Pootie, and Pootie Pootwell(a la the Ya-Ya Sisterhood). That (de)evolved into Moot, sometimes Moot Moot and then I make a little noise like Sweet Pea except instead of "Jeep, Jeep" I go "Moot, Moot" and that became Boot and then Bootie, cause she has a cute, little one and sometimes if we're feeling a little funky it's "Bootylicious" and we shake our heinies and have a good time.

There, aren't you sorry you asked.

Fawgeddaboud it

You Are 94% New Jersey!

Wow, you're totally Jersey. There's no doubt about it. Congratulations, and always be proud to be Jersey--it's a great thing to be!

How New Jersey Are You?

Yeah, baby! How New Jersey am I now? How bout now? Wanna go down the shawr and get a saw-sage sammich? Fawgeddaboud it.

P is for pool, party and presents

Big weekend for the Pooter. Two, count 'em, two parties. Cousin Hannah's party was yesterday and Sally went in the big pool for the first time. She really liked it but she clung to me like a baby monkey. And there was ice cream cake AND bubbles-we got the birthday girl a bubble maker that makes enormous bubbles and was a great hit with young and old alike, although the teenager thought it could be improved if fire was involved. I told hubby that he comes from rednecks, cause they do love to set things on fire, but he said it was a guy thing. Hmmmm.

I really liked this picture until my mother looked at it and said, "hey, you've got my figure". Sigh.

I told you there were bubbles. Big bubbles.

Now, today, Eldest Daughter turned 15. Yikes! There were more balloons, too, which the Pooter really liked. And more ice cream cake, which turns her into a baby bird-face upturned, mouth wide open and little squawks for more ice cream. Jenn got more sewing supplies(including a dress form) and a gift certificate for Lush (squeeee!!), so a trip to the city is in our future. And we told her we're not buying her any more clothes, she has to sew them all. The Pooter, meanwhile, is sleeping off all the ice cream cake.