Hello, I’m 2 Months

I turned 2 months a few days ago, and have made some progress. I smile a lot more now, and put on a show for others. I’m always smiling at my cousins, aunt, and uncle at daycare, but I still frown a lot at mom. I coo and say “lai” or “leh” a lot (“lai lai lai leh leh”) and Mom asks me if I’m trying to sing The Boxer by Simon & Garfunkle. No, I’m not, Mom. That song is for old ass people. Much older than you, even. Dad heard Mumford’s version of it on a Pandora station and didn’t even realize it was a cover. Mom went back to work on October 30, and I spend Mondays and Wednesdays at my aunt and uncle’s daycare with other pals, Tuesdays and Thursdays at home with Mom and Dad while they work, and Friday with Grandma and Grandpa, so I have an active social calendar.

Mom and Dad took me to a pumpkin patch over the weekend. Mom said I wouldn’t remember or understand any of it and pumpkin patches are dumb but they took me anyway, because everyone else was taking their babies and Mom didn’t want to feel like a grinch. It was abnormally hot for the end of October and I went without clothes again. I tried to sleep through the experience because the sun was too bright. Those infant sunglasses still don’t fit me.

A couple of days later, they put me in a furry ladybug costume on Halloween. It was too big and made me look like a giant puffy ball. I was not impressed. They walked me around with uncle, aunt, and cousin Sage in a nearby neighborhood, but I slept through the trick-or-treating festivities for the most part. I don’t have teeth and can’t eat candy anyway.

The weather started getting colder as of Halloween, and I have to wear clothes (more frequently) now. Mostly hand-me-down boys clothes, not that I care. I have some cool stuff with robots and animals, but Mom passed on making me wear the onesie that says, “Lock up your daughters.”

I’ve developed a somewhat stubborn personality in one respect; I began refusing almost entirely to drink out of a bottle. I don’t like it, so I’ve resorted to a semi-hunger strike during the day, as much as I love eating. I am still sleeping through the night and wake up pretty hungry. Mom used to say “Good morning, Sunshine,” when greeting me in the morning but the consensus between my parents was that after sleeping 8-9 hours straight and waking up starving, it wasn’t accurate to describe me as a ray of sunshine, so Mom now calls me “Moon.” She admits she’s a moon too, because she loves sleeping and is grouchy in the morning.

My cat sister stepped on me again recently. I have observed she is used to encroaching on human personal space and stepping all over them as she pleases, so it seems she now has come to recognize me as a flesh and blood human. It also seems to me she has been spoiled these past 10+ years, so I gave her swift kick to ensure such behavior does not occur again.

Home of the “Brave”

I recently learned on Facebook about an app or website called Nextdoor.com through a friend. Nextdoor.com describes its purpose thus:

Nextdoor is the best way to stay in the know about what’s going on in your neighborhood—whether it’s finding a last-minute babysitter, learning about an upcoming block party, or hearing about a rash of car break-ins. There are so many ways our neighbors can help us. We just need an easier way to connect with them.

Seems pretty cool. I don’t think we are in particular need of this as we are in a very small gated community of only 11 units, so news can easily travel quickly without the help of an app or social media, but even so, I dig the concept. However, my friend described an actual “warning” or notice one neighbor issued through Nextdoor.com:

What in the actual fuck. It’s annoying enough to see and hear all the “See Something Say Something” propaganda posters and announcements at every mass transit station. When they make those overhead announcements at the coaster station, I usually roll my eyes, but if I’m already in a bad mood I loudly respond “Oh, go fuck yourself,” and other passengers waiting for the train look at me and wonder if I’m one of the local homeless beach bums. The paranoid propaganda is vomit-inducing in and of itself but to actually see people embrace this nonsense and add a serious dose of racism on top is just too much.

When you parse out all the bullshit in the above paragraph (“I’m not saying he tried to break in because I have virtually no evidence but yeah I’m going to go ahead and explain why I think he did”), all that has occurred is a Hispanic man in a company uniform has distributed flyers for landscaping services. How is this anything that remotely requires a warning to other neighbors? To add to the absurdity, another neighbor actually seems to share the paranoia, by responding that they too (gasp!) were offered landscaping services. “We have cameras” – really? The fuck is wrong with people?

Like, what exactly was the thought process here? And when other random white solicitors come to the door, are they met with the same reaction? (Highly doubtful). Is there some common Hispanic scheme of which I am unaware, where they go out in broad daylight making fake flyers so they can break into houses and commit rampant crime while wearing logoed clothing? Because otherwise, when you see someone in a company shirt passing out fliers, chances are, by an overwhelming margin, they are doing just that. 

People are becoming so fucking afraid of everything that it is truly fucking pathetic to behold. Despite minuscule and completely negligible risks, Americans are afraid of traveling abroad, terrorism, letting their children out of their sight for even two seconds, Mexican gardeners, and probably their own shadows. Meanwhile, they fully support their military murdering, bombing, and destroying other countries to no end in the name of the home of the “brave.” Americans are fucking wetting themselves because an unidentified landscaper knocked on their door, but expect the rest of the world to suck it up when the American military destroys their hospitals, bombs residences to oblivion, and murders children. DOES THIS MAKE ANY FUCKING SENSE?

Stumblefoot 2.0

A friend was interested in coming to Stumblefoot after having tried their beers somewhere down south, so I came back here for the first time since we moved out of our old neighborhood. Good ol’ Stumblefoot. I remember when a lot of their beer tasted a bit tart, with a distinctive home brew taste.

They have come a long way since then. We’ve continued to come here periodically (for instance, see this previous post), and I definitely notice an unmistakable and continual improvement. They frequently change up their menu, which makes things exciting. This time, my friend suggested the Nelson IPA, which did not disappoint. It was fresh, well-balanced, nice, rounded, with a bitter, hoppy, finish.

I was even convinced into trying a sour or two here. I haven’t developed a taste for sours, but I’ve been wanting to branch out and switch things up. The cherry sour was tart, fruity, not too sweet, and probably a good introduction into sours. The Naughty Leprechaun was a sour porter, which was very interesting indeed.

After a good time at Stumblefoot, we made our way to Arcana, and played a round of Jenga, then to good old Pizza Port.

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