Lily does like Hannah does

Lily and her cousin Hannah may live a world apart but their lives exist in perfect congruence. Check out the videos below if you don't believe me.

Lily on a swing
Hannah on a swing

Lily at the beach
Hannah at the beach

The car is fucked

Some bastard, some tow truck bastard has fucked up our car. I wish they had bloody stolen it instead of leaving us with a undriveable piece of junk that will cost more money than we have to fix. I am very upset by this whole episode.

As you can see in this picture, something is very seriously wrong. Though, if anyone actually knows anything about cars please feel free to comment.

GiR2007

Check out this YouTube user's videos.
My favorite is Sheep Are Fluffy

Stolen cars and terrorist attacks

This afternoon, our car was not parked where it had been parked several hours earlier. Now, we've had the car towed on a number of occasions. Once in Barcelona when all our stuff was in it and one time here in Chicago when it was parked on a road due for some construction - on this occasion the tow truck just moved it down the street for us.

Today, there was no road construction, there was no street cleaning, and there was no car. We reported the stolen vehicle to the police, notified the insurance company and contacted the city just to make sure it hadn't been towed (and it hadn't). We were just getting used to the idea of some insurance money and being car-free when Angela found it awkwardly parked down the street a bit. Bollocks.

In further news, downtown Chicago was yesterday the victim of a brutal terrorist attack. That is if you believe my videos.

DJ Lily plays pikaboo

Check out Lily's latest vids:

Lily sitting up
Pikaboo
Da Lil ee

We got it

It's ours.

Craigslist countdown....

Earlier today Oliver saw an N64 in a resale shop next to our grocery store and he thought about how nice it would be to own an N64 and Golden Eye. So he went back this afternoon and asked how much. It was $10 for the box, no controllers, no wire to plug it into the wall....lame.

We took a quick look on Craigslist and found an ad placed an hour ago for "N64 with 2 controllers, Golden eye, Smash bros. mario kart-$25 ". We just emailed the poster....Will we get it?

Stay tuned.

Bathtime!

New Lily photos are up on my webshots page in a new album, "Lily 6-12 months".

If you use the link in the right-hand menu, you'll have to click to the second page of albums to see the new one.

Enjoy!

Blockbuster

Directed by Ben Milner
Staring Oliver and Angela
Featuring the Milford Krü and Mr. T

By the way...

...we'll be in Wisconsin Friday - Monday this weekend in a big cabin in a forest on a lake in the middle of nowhere. We'll be there with my sister, her husband and kids, as well as my brother and a couple of his friends.

So don't call and ask us to go clubbin'.

Intercambio heaven

I've been trying to find someone to do an intercambio with but nothing was turning up. I wanted an international student who could read essays and things I write in Spanish and correct them in return for me doing the same for them.

(I am a dork and read Hoy - one of the Spanish newspapers in Chicago - each day on the way to work. About 3 times a week I pick an article, study it and write a summary in Spanish.)

The search was going poorly when I had a stroke of genius. It was so easy to find an intercambio in Barcelona, why not put a post on Loquo, the CraigsList of Spain? I posted looking for an email intercambio and I now have 6 new Barcelona buddies.

One is an IT specialist, three are students, one is an old man and one is trying to be an interpreter for the UN but currently working as a receptionist for Telefonica...

I'm sure some of them will not stick, as is the trend with intercambios, but a couple seem very promising. So after months of nothing, I am now swimming in intercambios. If anyone wants one, I'll sell cheap.

Digital errand boy

Oliver Seeley has been making a film for Markus Oliver, who in turn will give the film to Ryan Seacrest.

Markus Oliver gave Liliana Seeley an iPod.

It's of the slim, black, 30Gb, video generation and now all our music, all our videos are on it.

Markus Oliver is a giving man.

Ryan Seacrest is not a giving man; he took all the rights to Oliver Seeley's film by making him sign the document seen above.

At least we have the iPod.

I think the world should judge the quality of films by my opinion.

I think the world should judge the quality of films by my opinion.

[pause]

Not because I am the greatest film critic in history, but because I never see films until years after they are released. I didn't see The Big Lebowski until 2001, Empire Records until 1998. It took me two years to finally see Bring It On in 2002.

My opinion can not be swayed by the media buzz that told us Titanic deserved all the Oscars and that Ben Affleck could act, because when the media is talking about Jonathan Taylor Thomas, I'm still on Corey Haim; when it's talking about Scarlett Johansen, I'm watching Demi Moore.

My opinions are pure vintage. My opinions are reliable...accurate even.

[pause]

I say all this because I've just finally seen Sin City and it is beautiful.

His news show is news

Steven Colbert is everything that is right about America, and I'm not just talking about his character's politics.

Watch this segment and let the truth juices run down your chin.

Back to school, back to school, to prove to dad that I'm not a fool

Yeah, that title was a Billy Madison reference, and you loved it!

Anyway, sudden new development in the Ruiter Seeley household: Angela is going back to school for her master's in the Fall. That's four weeks from now.

I'd been pondering doing an education degree with an English as a second language (ESL) certification, but that would really just certify me for teaching in elementary or secondary schools here in the US. That was not practical seeing as we plan to go back to Spain and also not practical since I don't want to teach elementary and secondary school.

Lately I've been thinking I'd love to just study Linguistics, but I thought I only wanted to study it for fun, not work with it forever. Then I realized that the Linguistics master's degree at UIC is a master's in teaching ESL to adult learners. This degree combines linguistics/language theory with a certification in teaching language that is highly regarded worldwide. They even provide job placement assistance in college, university and business settings around the world.

But the application deadline was past. I could have applied to be a non-degree student (a "trial" student), which is a very easy application process that just requires you to then apply to be a "real" student the next semester, but that deadline had just passed as well.

So I wrote a lovely email to the director of the program, who had me call him at home, talked with me and decided to write me a letter to the Graduate Admissions Office extending the deadline for my application.

Classes are in the afternoons, but Al, my boss, said I can adjust my work schedule.

Oli and I spoke about it and it seems like a good thing that I want to do; it will mean postponing Spain by one year and will require us to be creative parents, but our remaining here for a little longer will also give Oli the opportunity to do a degree if he likes, once his permanent residence is approved. He's thinking to do training with a social service organization here in Chicago before moving ahead with a degree, though.

Anyway, I'm excited and did I mention this education is all free since I work for ye olde University of Illinois?

P.S. - Eat it, Colin. I'm going back before you! :)

Word authentimacate, people

I have had my self esteem falsely boosted.

Note that all of our posts have recently had one extra comment added, all of which say something like, "I love your blog. It's at the top of my list," and are labeled "anonymous."

Now, Megan Edwards recently commented on the Grabblin post and logged in as anonymous, so when I read the first of these comments, I was like, "Aw, that's nice, Meggers. Thanks for the boost of blog confidence." I did find the wording, much like that of an English-as-a-second language student, to be odd as Megan is a former journalist with a strong command of of the English language, but my ego allowed me to overlook this discrepancy.

Then I noticed more and more new comments stating almost the same thing, each with little arrow links >> that lead to various financial institutions' websites.

The reason this happened is because we accidentally had the word authentication turned off in our blog settings , which allowed spammers to automatically post a dozen adds on our site, but does anyone find it ironic that this flavor of spamming occured after I had recently lashed out at credit institutions on this same blog?

Do you think Chase and Citibank received my letters at New Card Services and then sent them over to New Advertising Methods who proceeded to spam my blog? I wouldn't put it past 'em.

In any case, the word authentication is now on and computers cannot talk to us anymore. So please ignore those links and refrain from patronizing any company that uses such advertising methods....or be active and write them a letter....or don't since that may lead to your blog being blown up.

chemical weapons

It's not a new thing to be puked on by Lily. In fact, she's very good at it and does it between 6 and 8 times a day. She has various methods of attack. Sometimes she does it so quitely that you don't know you've been taken down until you find chunks of sour crust over your back and shoulder, or you find a trail of slippery white slime on the floor of the apartment. One of her more annnoying methods of attack is when she parks one in your pocket, belly button, mouth or ear. These can be difficult to clean, and the warmth is not comforting.

The most destructive type of puke attack is the 3-prongued blitz assualt. It ususallly begins with a particularly messy diaper, followed by piss all over the changing table and then at some point, when you're distracted, she'll slip one out covering her face, neck and back. She's a real pro and she knows when to perform, like when the camera is filming.

Lily can be seen above plotting her next strike.

Jedi mind tricks

Those English among you will know who and what I'm talking about, but for you Americans forget David Blane and check out this guy: Derren Brown. He is an English psychological illusionist and skeptic of paranormal phenomena.

See him in action:
Person swap
Russian scam
Kung Fu
Zombie

Need a name for your band?

Go to www.Engrish.com, close your eyes, click to a page, point your finger, open eyes. You now have a name for your 80s punk band such as:

- benign girl
- fortunate hammer
- deep-sea hooker
- happy pet
- flesh drink
- repaint version
- armor bike
- deluxe tense up
- Jude Low
- ground mother
- tuff mug
- living heater
- environmental disruption
- pet bottle
- diss club
- feeling kettle
- beauty checker
- irreplaceable persons
- pleasant with vigor

just a sampling of the many great band names waiting to be discovered on the world wide web,,,,

Giggle box

Check out Lily laughing uncontrollably. It's funny.

Megan gone grabblin'?

Is that Megan Edwards on the right?

I hope so.

A film with a plot...at last

After a stunning series of debut films, all of which demonstrate a preternatural understanding of film and most of which demonstrate why brevity is the soul of wit, here at last is a work that combines Oliver's visual mastery with Angela's writing genius. In their first collaborative work, you'll see why the Seeleys are a match made in Logan Square.

The first film from the Seeleys:

The Lily Monster
Toys are supposed to be fun. This one's deadly.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Also new from Oliver Seeley:

Slowly
A baby discovers that her hands can do things.

Laughing Lily
Lily laughs and so will you.

Theo and Simon
Two brothers, one mom, one dinosaur. You do the math.

Lazing momentarily

I'm feeling a little ill at work this afternoon and have taken a ten-minute break to read Mr. Sun....which led to the previous post and this one.

See this for a semi-explanation of this crazy photo.

Lip my stockings.

www.engrish.com

Stop it!

Stop evil mail: http://www.obviously.com/junkmail/
Stop evil phone calls: https://www.donotcall.gov/
Help stop evil emails: http://www.spamcop.net

The first letter

Citibank New Cardmember Services
P.O. Box 6168
Sioux Falls, SD 5717-9720

July 5, 2006

To Whom it May Concern:

On July fifth, 2006, I received a letter from Citibank. The envelope said simply: “You’ve earned it. [See details inside.]”. Without opening the envelope I knew that what I had earned was the Citi Diamond Preferred Card or one of its brethren because I had received just such an envelope twice weekly for the last several months. I'm beginning to doubt Citibank's patriotism as it seems determined to terrorize the good citizens of this country, even on the anniversary of our independence.

Let me be brief:

Citibank’s advertisement bombardment has not and will not work on me. I am sure that Citibank’s database shows that I have opened up a few credit cards in the last year, but please be aware that I have no intention and no need to open another. I don’t care that I am being offered 0% APR for a generous period of time and a low balance transfer cost. Advertisement is meant to make those who need a service aware that it exists. I HAVE NO NEED FOR CITIBANK’S SERVICES. Repeatedly telling me about them will not change that reality.

I understand that you who are reading this letter work in the New Cardholder Services department, which may or may not be responsible for sending me these highly irritating advertisements that I simply throw away because Chicago does not have a recycling program, and Citibank is thereby POLLUTING THE EARTH with junk mail. I digress. Whoever you are, please, please save me, save the Earth and contact whoever has my name on a list and tell them to stop sending me these advertisements and applications.

If you need any more reason to help me, know that by stopping these mailing, you will actually make me more apt to utilize Citibank’s services in the future if I should find a need for them. In the meantime, rest assured that I am well aware of what those services are and how they work and that no, I am not interested in learning about any new programs that should be developed after Citibank kindly stops sending me their advertisements.

For even further motivation, be aware that for each Citibank letter I receive in the future, I will send another to you, each meaner and angrier than the last, perhaps culminating in some kind of class action lawsuit supported by indebted people and environmentalists from around the globe. I don’t have much time on my hands, but I am vengeful.

Whoever you are, if you succeed in ending the onslaught of colorful glossy paper, my husband and child, who have to bear my looks and sounds of despair every time I go through the mail, will be forever grateful.

With kindest regards,

Angela Ruiter Seeley

Simplify: write nasty notes to credit card companies

Sometimes in this post-wedding, post-baby life I feel that there's not enough time for anything! Luckily, I don't always feel this way, just sometimes. Like when I want to read my book about the Spanish Civil War, study a little Spanish from today's Hoy newspaper, knit a winter hat for baby Theo...but have to clean house, pay bills, call insurance company, order silly wedding photos (finally) and look up some new recipes because we're bored of our food choices (all of this after Lily's asleep, of course).

When this feeling hits it's usually because I'm doing something I feel I have to but don't really enjoy, or feel I have to do NOW but don't have enough time to concentrate on and do well.

Oliver and I talk about this horrible feeling when I feel it, and when I do I get nutty, and therefore I don't want this to be a regular occurence for the rest of my life! So I'm making efforts to think about life and the things in it differently. I don't want to think life is what happens when I finish taking care of all the responsibilities. Rather than thinking, "I have to get these thank-you notes out today or everyone will think I'm ungrateful," I am trying to wait until I feel like writing to one of the recipients of said thank-you notes and taking the time to write a heart-felt message to them. I've decided that a belated meaningful message is better than a punctual empty one.

In this same vein, I don't want my in-person experiences with friends and family to be had out of duty. Sometimes I feel like we used to spend time with my family because we felt we had to fill a quota. We said yes to every engagement and enjoyed about 13% of them. Now I'm trying to say yes only 13% of the time. In many ways, I think Oli's family gets the better part of us. We may only see them a few times a year, but when we do, it's a solid block of quality time spent on holiday. My family gets us more often, but usually only for a few hours smashed between errands in one of our homes where one or more of us is usually missing half the time doing something in another part of the house. When we see the Seeleys, other things are generally set aside and we get to enjoy each other whereas time with my family always seems fragmented. I want to explain this to my family but am not sure they think about things the same way. The way I see things: if you're important to me, I see you and I have a good time, I write you and share things with you, whether that's once a decade or every week.

All of this discussion is why I always feel like simplifying our lives, or perhaps keeping them simple since they're not too crazy yet. Things I'd love to dispose of: car, credit cards, cell phone, junk mail (Tonight I have begun writing notes to the credit card companies that send me applications by mail biweekly- two of whose cards I already have!). If you try to call my phone and its says it's disconnected, you'll know I've gone straight edge.

Anyway, I guess the main thing is that I will not guilt myself for not doing things I "should" because when I do things just because I should, the emotional results are not pretty and life is slipping away too quickly to melt down over thank-you notes.

Not knowing what else to do, family watches soccer

That’s right. We spent the Fourth of July watching soccer. Can you think of anything less patriotic?

But alas, it was perhaps the best Fourth ever. Ididn't have to listen to "Proud to be an American" even once!

At 1:30pm Lily, Oli and I were in Small Bar in Wicker Park and the place was half full, preparing itself for the Italy-Germany game. We just barely got seats with the new buddies we’ve made down at the pub. As the pre-game was coming to a close we all vied for one of the three servers’ attention. All together we were one Brit, a duo of Germans, a Mexican, a bevel of new people from around the States, a bi-national baby and the usual urban family members (Colin, Cassie, Jay, Nate Luman, Katie, with a surprise visit from Libby). Eventually everyone got their liter German beers, hummus and pita, coffee ands strange Swedish cherry beers….and the match began.

Everyone was supporting Germany and I went with the intention to support the Germans as well, but as play began, I found myself cheering involuntarily when something happened in Italy’s favor or against Germany’s. Thus, for two hours I had to mask each shout of glee as one of despair and vice versa. That is, until Italy scored their first goal in that second-to-last minute. The sheer despair of the German players and fans broke my heart and made me see that I had been supporting the wrong team. Despite all the foul fakery on behalf of the Italians, it was only these forlorn faces that made me see the error of my ways. My deepest apologies to my fellow World Cup watchers.

Lily, on the other hand, could have cared less about the game. She was too busy being passed around and cooed at by every person who could see her through the mob of viewers. Then she got bored with that and fell asleep in my lap and slept right through the shouts of “Viva Italia” and that thing that the Germans shout but I don’t know how to spell.

After the game everyone had about 10 minutes of sadness and then we soon forgot the game as we basked on the sidewalk out front of Small Bar watching Colin and Nate Luman get drunk and have ridiculous conversations with our new soccer friends. At one point Colin was playing with Nate’s hair.

After making a stop off at the Hartrich’s to pass off my breast pump for Laura’s use (they had a second baby two weeks ago), we headed to the Janice/Megan back yard to meet up with that crew of people, who had been at the Sox game. All of this naturally led to barbequing which meant lots of cheesy hotdog consumption. Kinda delicious and kinda disgusting. All the same, thanks to Nate for providing.

On a side note, reading Laura’s blog about her creepy Fourth-of-July past made me think of that Onion article printed after September 11 titled, “Not knowing what else to do, woman bakes American-flag cake”. Read, enjoy, and have a happy July 5th.

a kick in the balls

Rooney: raw brilliance fused with brooding menace. According to sports scientists, the optimal range of testosterone for an athlete is between 600-900 ng/dl. Rooney's veins overflow with the stuff. He is the ultimate grunt - the sort of man that future generations will clone to go to war - a player you would always want on your team, even though you know he's always primed to explode. Today he did (Sean Ingle). The Guardian newspaper has given some amusing coverage of the World Cup with headlines such as "Lampard injury hopes quashed", meant as insult to Lampard for his continued poor performance in the tournament. Despite being utterly crushed at our loss today, the game was a 2-hour nail biter of epic proportions and easily the best performance by England so far. And perhaps it was better this way, rather than continuing on dismally. We can be proud of England's sterling display whilst a man down with nods to Owen Hargreaves, Ashley Cole and Aaron Lennon for some notable performances.

The World Cup is not over for me yet, though. I've made some German friends down the local and it is with them that I'll follow this tournament to a glorious Germany victory.

Gehen Sie Deutschland!

Argentina to win the World Cup

Argentina just beat Serbia and Montenegro 6-0 and I just wanna say that my money is on Argentina to win the World Cup. Forget England. I've given up on them. There's too much expectation and pressure and they're no good. The weather is just too hot for them.

Venga Argentina!

Lily this is Goldie, Goldie this is Lily

Lily and I were just enjoying the arrival of Wayne Rooney on the pitch against Trinidad & Tobago when I saw someone familiar lingering outside the pub. I stared at him for a moment unable to decide if it really was him or not but when he caught my eye, winked, and came over I knew it was Goldie. I introduced Lily and Goldie and we chatted about her age and the game and so on. Goldie said he was in Chicago because that's where his girlfriend lived.

Fortunately, England were spared a humilating scoreline thanks to some late goals by Crouch and Gerrard. T&T played extremely well and had enough chances to have secured a very different scoreline. I think that for once it seemed that Errikson's substitutions made all the difference. Hopefully now that we're through to the quarter finals we can expect to see Walcott come on against Sweden at some point.

Lily did not like all the shouting during the game and it made her cry. It was the shouting following near misses that upset her but interestingly the cheers of joy after our goals did not affect her at all. She is a true England fan; it was not the noise that annoyed her but England's missed opportunities.

A Groovy Kind of Lily

In her latest adventure Lily finds her groove and learns that you've gotta get up before you can get down.

Watch A Groovy Kind of Lily

England, football, lager!

If you hadn't noticed, the World Cup has begun. In what many Americans are describing as "anamolous and slightly confusing", and unlike the World Series in Baseball, this competition actually includes teams from all over the world. England, this year, are destined to win. It is impossible not to conceive, however, being beaten by teams such as Trinidad and Tobago and losing on penalties to either Germany or Argentina (our traditional foes) in an agonising quarter final. They key to our success will be in conceading early goals in big games. It may seem counter intuititive but the alternative, as shown by games against Argentina and Brazil in 2002 and France and Portugal in 2004, clearly does not work.

And not to make too much fun of Americans it must be noted that in the last World Cup the USA equalled England's performance by reaching the quarter finals.

God will not save you.

Recent research adds to the growing body of evidence which suggests that God will not save you, in any event.

But, we don't need God anyway. Our problems are man-made, therefore they may be solved by man. Like war. Mankind must put an end to war before war puts an end to mankind.

Read it.

On McSweeney's:
SHORT ESSAYS ON FAVORITE SONGS,
INSPIRED BY NICK HORNBY'S SONGBOOK.

"Inner Meet Me" by The Beta Band

Return of the Lily

Two new videos of Lily are available for viewing. One where Lily goes on adventure to Damen and another of her playing in her jungle gym.

Damen: A guy, a girl and a baby find out the true meaning of friendship.

Baby Genius: The baby that knew too much.

Fun Game!

Can you decipher the hidden message?!








History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire
Wiki article
Salon article

Viral Lily

Check out the hottest viral video since David Elsewhere...

see Adventures of Lily.

Streetwars.

Check this out:
http://www.streetwars.net/

What?

I am deaf....or maybe Oli mumbles....or maybe it's our differing accents and dialects. In whichever case, I frequently can't understand him and reply to to him with, "What?"

Two cases from the last 5 minutes:

[Refering to a previous conversation about videos]
Oli: Yeah, we'd need two versions.
Me: What? Two virgins?! Which one of your friends did that?

[Regarding the morning news]
Oli: Did you read the article on Al Gore?
Me: What? About Aragó?
Oli: You are DEAF!
(Note: Aragó is a street in Barcelona)

We'll have to stop speaking to one another or this marriage won't last long.

Stephen "Giant Balls" Colbert

WOW. Stephen Colbert is my new hero.

Read this.

~ Angela

She's a big kid now

Amazing how they grow. Twelve weeks ago Lily was in my belly and soon thereafter she was a new wrinkly little pink thing. Today she is a social independent-minded creature that can smile and say "a-goo". *Sigh* A few more weeks and she'll be president.

Wedding photos!

To view our wedding photos visit http://www.fredfox.com/scripts/albums/index.php . Click on 'online ordering', username: FAROS and password SEELEY. Enjoy.

By the way, thank you everyone who attended the wedding and thank you kindly for your gifts (particularly to Mike and his stripey thing). We had a fucking great time and we owe it all to you. It was heart-warming to know that you were so touched by our union and moved by our beautiful little girl.

If you are all genuinly feeling more disposed to marriage and babies then please have them in exciting and exotic locations so we can all enjoy more adventures abroad.

Huzzaahh!

Do you have Mr T on YOUR wedding video?

We do.

My friends were downtown about to board a boat for an architectural tour of the city when they saw Mr T and Conan O'Brien canoing down the river. British people don't know who Conan is so they only had eyes for Mr T.

When he came ashore my friends persuaded him to do a short tribute to Angela and I on Ben's wedding video.

Links to the wedding video will be posted when it is completed. Follow the 'fotos de boda...' link on the right to see photos of the wedding taken by friends and family.

baby adventure

Lliy had her first adventure last weekend. She sat comfortably in her baby carrier and held her trusty staff as her father transported her along the paths and canyons of starved rock state park. On one occasion she demanded to be taken off the beaten trail into the unknown wilderness. Unafraid of what may have lurked there and unperturbed by the mangled corpse of a half-eaten skunk she continued wide-eyed until her diaper exploded onto her mother whilst resting on a fallen tree.

We are expecting big things from Lily and a trip to starved rock is but the first in a series of adventures that'll no doubt prove increasingly more audacious.

sucking me dry

The title says it all. Note the contrast in our expressions, one of contentment, the other of exhaustion, and our appearances, one fat and well-fed, the other scrawny and mal-nourished.

These are the lives of baby and mother.

Relax! Don't do it!

Here's our life in a MasterCard commercial:

9-week-old baby
10 stress dollars
Oliver's torn ligament (see blog entry that is to follow)
10 stress dollars +
10 stress dollars more for the baby/house work this adds to my load
Final wedding-day touches
5 stress dollars
Pending arrival of 27 out-of-town guests
20 stress dollars
One rental apartment meant for our guests turning out to be uninhabitable
10 stress dollars
Extreme lane closures on Dan Ryan expressway
5 stress dollars
Lily's first vaccinations
5 stress dollars
Getting telemarket scammed and having to open a new bank account
5 stress dollars
The bank messing up the opening of the new account giving me $2000 that don't exist...which sounds good but yields many phone calls
5 stress dollars

A beautiful inoculated baby and sweet crippled fiancé with whom to share a sunny spring wedding day
Priceless

***

By the way, thinking up that title made me look up the lyrics to Relax by Frankie Goes to Hollywood. I had NO idea that the song was like that. I never listened too closely.

It smiles

Dude, my parents' house got hit by lightning.

Dude, my parents' house got hit by lightning.

Initial reports indicate that the event was the loudest the Ruiters have ever heard and that a burn mark remains on the ceiling of the guest bathroom.

This strike occured within an hour of Oli, Lily and me leaving their house. Man am I glad we got out of there because it would have been horribly unamusing for one of us to die on the toilet and worse still for the survivor to have to explain to an older Lily what happened to her absent parent. It's the stuff that playground ridicule is made of.

~ Angela

Don't call me an American!

Lily is tired of being referred to as an American.

"Nationality is passed down through the father's line, thank goodness, and that means I'm English", Lily said earlier this afternoon. "Although I live here, and I may well grow up here, I'm not really that keen on playing baseball, eating freedom fries, watching insufferable network news or finding more culture in my yoghurt than in the society around me".

In an effort to assuage any doubts about her true identity Lily was seen earlier today playing football, not 'soccer', with her father. “American football is a joke; what’s the deal with all those advert breaks, and why do they wear all that body-armour? They’re pussies, that’s why!”

Lily's first utterances have found resonance with some, particularly her father, but they have also met with disappointment among many of her flag-waving peers, who have accused here of being un-patriotic and in league with Islamic terrorists.

Lily continued, “I like to call a Z a zed, not a zee, and I certainly don’t agree with the ridiculous month/day/year notation used here in the US. It’s nonsensical.”

Lily’s comments have rallied the support of a number of liberal groups, but have also galvanized conservatives in support of the embattled Ruiter administration.

Spring break

The toe nail didn't fall off but it's still purple. I thought I'd continue with spring league anyway since half our team couldn't attend this week. With no subs we were losing about 6-1 in our first game of the day. I'd just made a nice cut into the end zone and just as I prepared to launch myself into the path of the oncoming disc, a catch that would have surely been a turning point in the game, my marker struck me down with a well-placed foot, turning my ankle over, crunching it, then throwing me helpless on to the cold cold and unforgiving earth. Out of the game, without health insurance and unable to walk down the aisle Angela now has an invalid and infant to care for. I just hope the ankle gets better fastly.

I know my foot looks long and strange anyway, but observe the two englarged areas at the back, above the heel. They'll be purple soon too.

Spring League

Last weekend I played in the Chicago Ultimate Frisbee's Spring League. The league comprises 8 weeks' of weekend games in which each team plays two new opponents each week. One enters the league as an individual and based on a self-assessment of your skill you are assigned to a team of mixed ability. I was assigned to Team 13 and a photo of us is shown above. Unfortunately, we lost both our first games and I arrived home with a purple big left toe. I've had a purple big left toe before once when I was ski-ing and the nail fell off after a few days. I'm afraid that the same thing is going to happen again. Despite losing our first two games we had a lot of fun and all my team mates are really sound. I just hope that my big left toe stops being purple and that the nail grows back quick.

Mile markers

According to the book What to Expect the First Year, by the second month of life Lily should be able to:
*Smile in response to our smile
*Follow objects with her eyes
*Respond to a bell in some way such as startling, crying or quieting *Vocalize in a way other than crying (e.g. cooing)

And weirdly enough “may even be able to pay attention to a raisin or other very small object” (?).

We are on our way to full smiling, eliciting some partial smiles thus far, but that big happy grin still eludes us.

Meanwhile, she certainly can follow objects with her eyes and exercises this ability often with her trendy color-changing rubber duckies while splashing in the bath.

Better still, today we heard our first definite coos. For a few days we’ve been wondering if she were cooing or just making little cries before and after big cries. Today while we talked with Lily and helped her play with her baby gym, she was most definitely having fun, strongly kicking her legs and letting out little happy shouts in response to our voices and the squeak of the swinging birdy (see above photo).

As for the bell, we haven’t tried freaking Lily out by ringing a loud bell and don’t plan to. She responds to the birdy squeak and that works for us. And regarding the raisin, we aren’t in the habit of keeping any in the house, so we’ll have to get some and let you know later. I’m sure you’ll be waiting in suspense until then.

~

* See the webshots pages for new photos; links to the right.

Nipple Confusion claims another victim

We laughed when we read the breastfeeding articles that warned against Nipple Confusion. But alas, Nipple Confusion has had the last laugh:

Our baby is nipple confused.

She has realized that it is easier to suck on a bottle nipple (although this bottle brand is supposed to mimic the natural nipple!) and gets fussy when it comes time to feed from Mommy's all-natural breast. As she has suddenly hit a growth spurt, demanding almost twice as much food daily, she is ravenous most of the day. This, coupled with her confusion, has led to an angry baby.

Add in an immature digestive system that causes sleep-interupting tummy aches for Lily and a rough diaper rash last week and we have one big cry fest.

I am pumping my breasts day and night now to produce enough milk to feed this kid (from bottles only now) and am feeling much the cow.

Pray for your friends on Sawyer Avenue!

PS - We still really like Lily...especially when she is not crying.

Adorable

I promise that one day we'll recover from our obsession that is Lily and at that point our blog will no longer simply be a forum for displaying the wonder that is her.

Until that point, enjoy the adorableness.

~ Angela

Obligatory photo update

New baby + hip attractive digital-age parents = online photo album.

See links to the right or use these:

Angela's Webshots
http://community.webshots.com/user/ajruiter

Oliver's Webshots
http://community.webshots.com/user/oliverseeley

How it all fell down

So what exactly did happen last Thursday?

Lily happened.

Despite each of our little nightly talks about the pros of staying in utero until after the 15th of February, each night last week saw me falling asleep with my hands on the belly, quite certain that something felt different inside and that Baby Seeley would soon be making an exit/entrance.

On Wednesday I began showing my replacement around the workplace. As she is my friend Kate who has previously worked for the College of Urban Planning and Pubic Affairs in her own right, I wasn’t too worried about her ability to pick up the subtle skills of being Assistant to the Associate Dean. We were to have two weeks of training time before my leave began but all day I kept feeling the need to show her more and more things, just in case this was our only day of training.

I went home to my parents’ that night. I was staying with them just in case anything baby happened while Oli was away. Mom and I stopped by Babies ‘R’ Us to pick up the last of the things our apartment lacked: the car seat, the stroller/pram, crib sheets, etc. Oli had told me I shouldn’t stress myself and should wait to do this shopping until he got back. Subtle signals from my belly told me to disregard this kind suggestion.

Mom, Dad and I ate dinner at 7:30 p.m. After dinner I went to the bathroom and noticed that my mucous plug (gunk that plugs up the cervix) had apparently begun to come out. Hm, no worries. Doc had said this could happen up to two weeks before baby’s arrival. I was two weeks from my due date. All the same, I emailed Oli saying he should not stick around England too long after Thursday’s visa interview. I took a bath. In the following couple hours before bed I felt the need to poop about four times. Strange.

I passed out at about 10:00 p.m. and remember nothing until some sensation (probably a mild contraction) woke me at 11:30 p.m. and I noticed I was wetting myself in gushes. Agh! I jumped up, noticed happily that none had gotten on the bed despite my soaked knickers and ran to the bathroom. OK. I am peeing myself again. Damn. But why is it still trickling out? And why is it coming out in pulsing gushes? Perhaps my bladder is just being humorous? This can’t be labor, don’t be labor, Oli’s not here.

I was out of pads and had nothing but tissue to stuff in the clean underwear I had put on. I lay in bed trying to believe that no more wetness would occur, I would go to sleep and tomorrow go to work. But more gushing happened. Oh Oli!

I tiptoed downstairs to where my Mom sleeps, still unsure if this was labor. I knocked on the door and entered. “Mom, I think something’s happened.”

We sent my poor Dad to the store for pads and lay in my bed waiting for something to confirm or deny labor. “Are you having contractions?” Mom asked. “Not yet….Oh wait,” I said as a funny little ripple spread over my belly. Felt like painful gas, only all over. Five minutes later it happened again, but stronger, and this pattern continued for an hour and a half, the length of time Doc suggested to wait before calling him.

We called Oli first. Just as he was about to pop out the door of Buckleigh House to catch his train to London for the accursed Fiance Visa Interview I informed him that I was having contractions. His response: “Oh No.”

Fast forward to the hospital where a quick peek at my undercarriage in an exam room confirmed I was totally in labor and dilated to between one and two centimeters. They poked me with loads of needles and wisked me off to a delivery suite.

Mom was good throughout; she had brought her chimey yoga CDs, which she played on the stereo in the suite. I used the sounds of India to transport myself to monsoon season when particularly nasty contractions hit. Some seven hours after the contractions had begun I was wasted; I hadn’t slept but an hour or so before coming to the hospital and though exhausted couldn’t sleep through the contractions that were coming every two minutes and stronger than ever….and I was now only at two or three centimeters!!!! They offered the epidural and I took it. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t talk to anyone, I was a lifeless shallow-breathed sickly being and if there was seemingly ten more hours of this ahead, I wasn’t going to enjoy a moment of it. I had to wait another hour for the anesthesiologist, though, who was currently in surgery. (Side note: I don’t feel guilty for taking the epidural but pay the deepest homage to all women who have done it without whether by choice or lack of the option. It’s true that contractions are manageable but to breathe through them for hour upon hour….I can’t imagine.)

The doctor called and told them to put me on Petosin, a hormone that speeds up labor and makes your contractions intensify. Thank God they had given me the epidural beforehand. I was now happy, smiling, talking, laughing. A little later my sister showed up and joined Mother and I in waiting. It was now around 10:00 a.m.

Fast forward again to 2:00 p.m. Time to push, mates. By this time even though I couldn’t feel my legs due to the epidural, I could feel the tightening and pressure of each giant contraction, which was great because it didn’t hurt but allowed me to push with each one and get Baby Seeley out! The doctor arrived, said to start pushing with the nurses, that he’d be back in a few minutes after he got into scrubs.

Mom and Sis held my legs back and we pushed for about twenty minutes and got that head right down into the opening. Then the nurses said to stop. Doc had to be there when the head came out in case anything strange happened. So they paged the doctor and there I was sitting through major contractions with a head wedged in my hoo-ha. Imagine someone catching you mid poop and saying, “Stop. Hold it right there.” It wasn’t so much painful as odd.

Doc popped in, the head popped out, my sister and mom squealed, I felt excited and happy that they were excited and happy. “Oh my God, it looks like Oli!” my sister said. I looked down and indeed, I laughed, an Oli head was coming out of me. That was weird. A couple more pushes, shoulder out, baby out. 2:44 p.m. It’s a girl! Sis cuts the umbilical cord….

Wisked off to the side, cleaned up. She was a bit bitey when the nurses bathed her and let out giant impressive cries. Doc informed me that my delivery had given a little boy thirty more minutes with his foreskin, which he had been just about to remove when he had been paged. Within a few minutes the girl was in my arms clamped onto my left nipple sucking voraciously. Just then, Oli called and I asked him to guess what I was doing at that moment……

Job done.

GET BORN!

Liliana "Lily" Seeley

Born on Thursday 2/2/06 at 2:44 p.m. Central Standard Time.

6 lbs. 0 oz.
19.5 inches
Porcelain white with blonde fringe on top

More photos to come when the parents recover! Until then, the hospital photo (which doesn't do her justice!) will suffice.

Take a gamble

So, we do NOT have a trisomy baby. In fact, our baby is awesome. Although, I should probably rephrase that because if we did have a trisomy baby, I would still think it was awesome because it would be MY trisomy baby.

Either way, our baby IS certifiably great. The echocardiogram doctor and technician both agreed that the health is excellent and they were a bit mystified regarding why we were sent to them in the first place. I could have told them that the doctor who did the last ultrasound was a big douche, but they seemed to come to that conclusion on their own.

The child is not only in good physical condition, but also clearly in high spirits as throughout the scan s/he waged a cute little war, pushing back at the tech’s probe whenever she pushed it firmly into my belly. I was helpless during this funny little struggle which was honestly none-too-comfortable for me.

Currently my belly is so weirdly bulbous and is generally rocking and rolling with baby’s giant movements. This kid wants out.

BUT NOT YET! Daddy’s on another continent, or will be as of early tomorrow morning!

That’s right. Oliver’s visa interview takes place this Thursday in London, so he leaves at 6:00 tonight for the UK. With luck, by the end of the day Thursday he will have a fiancé visa stamped in his passport and can proceed to purchase a ticket to get the hell back here before I pop!!!!!

Meanwhile, I have nightly talks with baby about how excited I am to meet him/her but reiterate that it will be best for everyone if s/he stays in for a couple more weeks. Oliver would, you know, like to witness the birth of his first born child. Not until February 15 – my due date and coincidentally the 6-month mark of my employment - am I eligible to receive two extra weeks of paid maternity leave and if I can stay at the office until that date, I will not have to pay for my benefits during any of my off time. Plus, isn’t it best to stay in the womb and cook all the way until that due date???

Root for us, people. Or at least start some kind of wager on this thing.

Will Oli make it back in time?
Will I be able to work until my due date?
Will the child come before or after the 15th?

Tune in next week. Same baby channel. Same baby time.

The story of two people who got married, met, and then fell in love.

I'm off to England today to interview with the bastard bureaucrats down at US Embassy head office, with their BS, double-talk and smoke-filled coffee-house crap. They want my visa application on their desk by 9am tomorrow morning because chief is breathing down their neck. They say I'm reckless - a renegade maverick, but I say I get results and consistently go above and beyond the call of duty. I’m just trying to do my job, dammit!

If I’m successful I will return soon with my fiancé visa, but if not, I may be estranged from my soon-to-be-wife and child, forever!

Too tired to fight the law

Last night I waited three hours to see my OB/GYN. I was the last appointment at 8:30 and I saw the doctor at 11:30. This was ok since I know Dr. Flosi was just running behind because he cares and takes lots of time with each patient. So I was patient (Haha, a play on words). It was also nice to hear him say that the baby's development is excellent and that he thought we had little to be concerned about the baby's heart, as the ultrasound doctor had suggested, since the second trimester ultrasound showed everything to be fine and offers a much clearer picture than a third trimester ultrasound, when the baby is big and obscured. He figured this other doctor was just playing it safe since he couldn't get a good view of our big baby's heart. We still have to go for the echocardiogram (heart ultrasound) on Monday, but still, I breathed a sigh.

Just before midnight I began the 40-minute journey home. I was road hypnotized and kept catching myself speeding a lot. I kept slowing down only to find my pedal once again to the medal. At one point I looked up from noticing how fast I was going and noticed something else: a cop car sitting along the road just ahead....who pulled out behind me as I desperately tried to slow down.

No luck. He flashed and I pulled over, as did another cop car....who really had no part in all this but was probably bored? I was too tired to even haggle with the officer, which in my mind would have gone something like, "Um, I'm pregnant. Feel like not giving me a ticket?" ***Big doe eyes*** Nope. I had no will to even try. He was nice enough, I mean, nice enough for a cop giving a ticket to a pregnant chick about to pop. He took my license, wrote up my ticket, and that was that. I couldn't even care.

As I drove on aferward I then realized all the lame unecessary hassles this ticket would cause: Traffic school in order to keep the ticket off my record and prevent my insurance rates from increasing (when will I do this if I have a new baby and a crazy wedding to plan!?). A fine to be paid with money that could so go to better use. Having no picture ID which is necessary for everything hospital related. Sucksville.

I went home more tired after this delay, overtired and self-pitying in fact. I took a long shower and thought about how a week ago I was scared out of my mind that our baby might be a trisomy baby and how I had thought then that I would give anything, even have the rest of my pregnancy and delivery be excruciating, for this kid to be ok. Now here I was with the knowledge that the baby was probably ok but I was pouting about a stupid ticket.

It was now after 1am. I was about to fall asleep when Oli came home from being out at a bar/concert with some friends. He was cute and semi-drunk, which made me laugh. We celebrated the fact that our baby is probably normal and healthy. He cuddled my bum while I lamented about my long evening. He told me about his fun night out during which my friends evidently told him I used to write emails from Barcelona about him all the time before we were even dating (lies). He asked what I wanted for dinner the next day (he's already such a dad). We laughed and even kissed a little (scandalous!).

Thus, the moral of this somewhat drab story is, you know, have fun and stuff. Thinkin' 'bout healthy babies and bum cuddlers is way more fun than dwelling on traffic citations.

Squirly McGee

A few weeks ago Angela and I met a squirrel outside our apartment. It responded to that noise people make when they want to attract cats, with the same hand gesture. After getting some nuts from the apartment we started feeding Squirly, as we named him, and we had him climbing on our legs eating the nuts that we had placed on them.

The other day I saw him running on top of the fence outside my bedroom window and I called out to him, like before, and he came and sat down in the path looking up at me. I threw down some nuts and he sat eating them with a small bird that had joined him. I had the idea of using the plastic lid of a jar to make a small basket to lower some nuts down on some string.

He wasn't really interested in the basket, or he had vanished, but anyway I left all my nuts on the window sill and left the room to have a shower. When I came back I found him sitting on the sill inside the apartment eating those nuts. He let me come close and I took some photos of him. He had pissed on the window sill and he scurried off once all the nuts were gone.

He has come back since and now I regularly leave nuts for him to come and collect.

Oli.

Does amniotic fluid smell like onions?

We used to have pregnancy scares. Now we’ve graduated to labor scares.

Saturday was our first of what will hopefully not be many.

At 11:10 p.m. Oliver and I were in bed doing whatever couples do in bed when a sudden gush of fluid came forth from me and irrevocably changed the evening, not to mention messed up the round bed. Stopped in our tracks by the sudden appearance of this puddle, we put our heads together to figure out what had just happened. We looked at it, touched it, smelled it.

“Smells like onion,” Oli commented.

It seemed to be made of about 2-3 shots of a liquid that was quite clear, watery and (at least to me) odorless. Basically, it was water.

Lacking in any contractions and feeling just fine, I couldn’t believe that this could possibly have been the onset of labor. No way. Projecting ahead, it seemed impossible that this could mean I’d be contracting and breathing and pushing within hours.

“I’m not ready to have this baby,” I said. Not because I was afraid, just because this just didn’t seem like the time.

Oli pointed out that my water had clearly just broken and therefore, it was the time.

He called Dr. Doah and expressed that we thought my water might have just broken. He asked, “And what does amniotic fluid smell like? Does it smell like onion?” I heard Dr. Doah laugh. I laughed and proceeded to put items in my hospital bag, which has been 2/3 packed for a week or so. We rather calmly strolled around the apartment making sure we had everything.

Just as we were about to leave, we realized we didn’t have an outfit for the baby to come home in. We quickly rifled through the bags of clothes the child already owns and grabbed the first outfit it ever received: a soft yellow number that the Seeleys picked up in France. We were depending on the next day’s baby shower to provide the now much needed crib and car seat, but at least our kid would have clothes.

Out the door, in the car and on the phone. We called my mom who repeated 20 times that we should breathe and be calm. She called the Seeleys. I called my sister and got my brother-in-law who groggily asked if we needed anything and then hung up without letting my sister speak to me. I called my friend Colin who called everyone else. My mom called back….several times. Oli remembered he had had onions on his burger at dinner.

At the hospital we parked in the regular parking garage by the main entrance. As we approached the entrance Oli asked, “Didn’t they say something in our prenatal class about going in a different entrance if you arrive late at night?”

“No,” I said as we read the sign on the front door saying all patients should enter in the ER on the other side of the hospital. We trekked around the entire hospital through ice and snow. We laughed at the idea that some poor sucker had us as parents.

Inside the ER the security guard called up to Maternity and said, “I have a mom here who needs to come up.” Haha, she called me a mom. They put me in a wheel chair (just like the movies!) and up we went, Oli bashing me into walls the entire way, much to the nurse’s amusement.

Over the next couple hours the doctor and nurse on duty ran a couple swabs and did an ultrasound eventually deciding that what had come out of me was not amniotic fluid and that my bag had not ruptured. They asked if it could have been urine as many many pregnant ladies in their 9th month experience incontinence in a big way. I expressed that we had smelled the liquid and were certain it wasn’t pee. Oli thought since I drink so much water it was possible my urine didn’t smell, but I countered by saying that it had come out in a big gush, not a trickle. The doctor pointed out that the cervix can sometimes make a watery discharge that is like amniotic fluid. I thought this a sketchy answer but accepted it, a little disappointed that this meant the baby wasn’t coming tonight.

We went home and slept.

This morning I peed on myself in bed.

Oh mother.

Domestic Domicile Bliss

The round bed is the way, my friends. Happening upon one in IKEA the other day, I doubted my sanity when after pouncing on the lovely cornerless thing I felt little pangs of love. When Oliver professed that he felt the same pangs, I wondered if this was confirmation that a) I was right to love the bed or b) we were both huge losers. In the end, the answer to this question did not matter and we bought it. We now sleep blissfully in our little piece of heaven. Come over and try it out, kids.

High fives to people who have eaten dinner with us at the new apartment over the last few nights: Colin, Kevin, Brian, Kate, Nick, Megan, Janice, my parents…..We have learned that a good kitchen is extremely important in a home and you have helped test the worth of our current model. With a good sturdy table for gathering ‘round, a bowl of almonds and fruits for pre-meal nibbling, a hanging fern for natural influence, and a giant wall world map for conversation, education and reference, well, I think our little kitch measures up. The family room is pretty cozy too and lends itself nicely to the drinking of post-meal tea and/or lager, not to mention the playing of various card and board games. Alas, we have a home.

For the English, be aware that Oliver can cook and continues to astound me daily by looking up and trying new recipes. If you want to try out some of this new-found culinary delight, you’ll have to come out to Chicago for a certain event taking place in April.

By the bye, wedding accommodation info will soon be available for the British. It looks like we can line up a few week-long rentals of apartments in the city with about 6 people to a flat at $120-150 each for the week (about £90 each). Check your email in days to come!

~ Angela

the worst present ever

I wasn't really sure if Angela was that gullible, but I wondered what would happen if I attached the below to the end of a pre-xmas email.

"Which reminds me, did you want anything for xmas? I wasn't sure if you liked presents, maybe I'll just get you some chocolate or something, if you want, or some soapy things from the Body Shop, girls love that shit."

This was the reply:

"Please do NOT get me any random soapy things for xmas. I hate things like this. Get me a present only if you see something you think I'll actually use or eat (mmmm)".

Sucker!

Oli.

Best Christmas Present Ever

I say farewell to my fellow Chicagoans as I embark on my Christmas voyage this evening.

I am a little sad to go as Chicago at Christmas is a lovely thing. This morning the saxophone man at the train station was rocking out on "Walking in A Winter Wonderland", the weather was not too cold but just right with sun blazing over the city skyline, and everyone was wearing jeans to work. I say, Happy Holidays, indeed.

So on this lovely winter's day I'd just like to take a moment to reflect on hemorrhoids and giving. My friend Sean Higgins gave me the best Christmas present ever: he got hemorrhoids in my place. Most pregnant women are supposed to get them and I haven't yet in this oh-so-far-along 32nd of 40 weeks of pregnancy. Sean, however, developed an incredible one over the weekend for God-only-knows-what reason. It has since been removed, but this will not stop me from thanking Sean for carrying my burden for me, if even for only 2 days. What a pal, what a Christian. Merry Christmas!

To the British to whom I am flying, I look forward to a great week, if after reading the above you're not too grossed out and still want to hang out with me. Until soon,
~ Angela

For a full account of Sean's tribulations, see www.xanga.com/shweenhiggs

Nip/Tuck writers need not fear curse

What happens when a writer just can’t come up with something provocative and clever? Nip/Tuck happens.

Last night I sat through the 2-hour season finale of this program with my sister and brother-in-law. In my defense, I was knitting like a fiend. I went to Joanne Fabrics and made my first knitting purchase: beautiful multi-colored soft yarn to knit a cap and booties for Hannah Kim Seeley. I was a woman possessed and nothing could stop my knitting last night, not even Nip/Tuck….although it did interrupt it at times.

Anyway, let me just say that in its third season, this program has disintegrated into a goulash of gender, body and (less-interestingly) financially-confused Californians. At one point a surgeon was ruled out (temporarily) as the rapist-slasher known at The Carver who has been plaguing LA throughout the season because we found out he was born without a penis.

Dialogue (more or less) that ensued about his previous relationship with some woman:
Main character: No, we hate you for acting like a gigolo when you really had no dick, and for grabbing Kate’s ass.
Unfortunate man: I grabbed Kate’s ass so she would hate me and not get too close and find out I had no dick.

Wow.

In the end, this guy WAS the rapist-slasher and we found out he’d been using a strap-on all along. His motive in raping and slashing beauty queens and surgery addicts? To teach us all that “Beauty Is A Curse”. Damn.

Pure Indulgence

- My niece Marisa.
- Who doesn't like a picture of a cute kid? Your day is better now, isn't it?

comemos lomo y quesos

So, back in Barcelona. Liked it? Loved it. Felt like home. I enjoyed a comprehensive Barca experience, minus getting mugged and visiting the peep shows on the ramblas, with all the old peeps. Saw an exhibition of video art with timo, some funk at a jazz bar with Claire and Mike Mc, and had multiple drinks with the rest. I also visited Platja de Castelldefels which is mine and Angela's spiritual home. We spent time indulging ourselves here when we had just found out about the baby; swimming in the sea in the morning and evening and playing frisbee as the sun went down. In the evenings we stayed in a lovely hotel overlooking the beach, kindly paid for by my parents.

The picture shows Lawson and I enjoying a couple of bocadillos con lomo y queso, an old favourite, particularly of Ange and I who bonded over them during our brief but productive honeymoon period.

baby is born

Last monday ushered in a new era in the Seeley family with the birth of Hannah Kim, weighing 8lb 6oz. Hannah was born over two weeks late but was delivered perfectly formed and completely adorable.

Congratulations Alex and Catherine!

Alterna-Christmas

Baked 300 cookies yesterday in order to bribe family member to not hate me for being absent this Christmas Day.

Actually, I like giving people things but don't have much money nor do I like just buying something to give someone when it is isn't really perfect for them.

Lesson learned:
Cookies = spread Christmas joy - cause useless clutter in someone's home

Additionally, I did not rock out to tradition Christmas tunes during this bake-fest. Alone in my sister's kitchen (well, alone except for pounds of flour, butter and fresh-out-the-oven cookies) I baked my heart out to my playlist on random, vowing to myself at the beginning of the session that I would not skip any song my computer chose, but would let all songs have their fair play time at this oh-so-sacred time of year. The result was a bizarre melancholy mix of 70s pop from the Carpenters, sad old Wilco, new Dave Matthews Band (how did THAT get on my computer?!), depressing Air, and Indian pop from The Guru soundtrack (what the f---?!)...evidently I am depressed and demented and didn't know it. The few shining beams of joy were shed by Kanye West, Mos Def and some other black folks. It is truly a sad state of affairs when the poor and oppressed of society sing the "happy" songs on your playlist. All in all I have learned this Christmas that I have a depressing and f-ed up playlist that despite its girth is lacking in soooo many ways.

Lesson learned:
Having a fantastic "Recently Played" list is no consolation for having a massively warped overall list.

Merry Musical Chrsitmas,
~ Angela

reach for the lasers, safe as fuck!

When not cavorting with nurses at medical examinations I like to indulge in a little Toxic Dancehall. For all those who came down to Bristol on Saturday night for DJ Scotch Egg, Floorclearer and Parasite I would just like to say a big thanks for a great evening and please take a moment to enjoy this photo. Memorable events of the evening include the Horne sisters, between them, vomiting on the dancefloor and down the sofa in the chill-out room, meeting Sam’s new girlfriend, Laura, and having James make a lightening drive from Milford to Bristol at midnight so he could join us for this last ever Toxic Dancehall.

Following on from the nurses and pigtails thing. I’m not really sure about any scrawny British airport employees but I’m really turned on by the thought of pregnant women in pigtails at the moment, especially yankee girlfriend ones. See you soon gorgeous!

Revenge

As most people know, Oli's back in England for the time being having his genitals checked out by our Homeland Security officials abroad. Before you feel too sorry for him, read his account of the experience:

"There were basically loads of nurses wearing those fit nurse outfits that nurses wear... So, imagine me, looking cute (yes oh yes), headphones, black jacket, scarf, playing that 'oops where am I, I'm all lost but very confident anyway' thing I do sometimes and it worked wonders. They gave me hot chocolates, stole me muffins from the executives and gave me big smiles. A morning's work done. Then I went to H&M and bought some things I didn't need."

All I can say is I am totally going to wear my hair in pigtails when I go to England at Christmas and play it cute for every immigration official who helps little-'ol-lost-yankee me find my way through the big confusing Heathrow terminal. There's nothing like a desperate pregnant girl to turn on scrawny British airport employees.

~

Mama Drama

So I realized the other day that my mom and I really needed to get those baby/wedding shower invitations out.

For the British, a baby shower is a luncheon that is held in honor of an expectant couple that is attended by all one’s female relatives and friends (men are mercifully spared, except the dad-to-be) and to which each guest brings a gift for the baby, generally practical things like bottles, towels, blankies, etc. This way friends and family are helping out with all those financial strings attached to impending baby arrivals. A wedding shower is similar only the gifts are household things to help a new couple start their home up (e.g. dishes, cooking ware, appliances, etc.).

Anyway, I realized that if we were to have this joint wedding/baby shower on January 22 as planned, we needed to get our gift wish lists registered at some stores and then get those invites out. This led to my sister and I spending 4 hours in Babies ‘R’ Us and Target on Saturday using wireless scanner guns to zap items in the store that I wanted on our gift wish list so that our invitees would know what we wanted. This was fun for two hours and mind-bending in the second half.

I discovered new depths (or perhaps shallows) that I never knew I had. I was most preoccupied with realistic usage, meaning, would I actually use the things on my list or end up with an apartment full of you-know-what. Here, my sister, a mother of two, came in handy. I remained focused and realistic until we got to bedding. Dear god, Babies ‘R’ Us had some adorable bedding sets for the baby’s room. It took 10 minutes for me to decide between Farm Animals or Froggies and Duckies. I walked up and down the aisle comparing the two displays in a fervor that I think can only compare to a dirty old man trying to choose between the Olsen twins. In the end, Froggies and Duckies won for its softness and overall joviality. I hope that when it comes times to choose a university or life partner our child will not find it so difficult as I found this choice.

Meanwhile, two hours later over in Target, my sister and I started breaking down about the time I had to pick out kitchen gear. There are far too many types of doohickeys for preparing and serving food. My sister had remained impartial until this point, giving advice without passing judgment on my final choices. But alas, she MADE me add Corningware to my list. For those of you like me who could care less about such things, Corningware is a type of dish for baking and/or serving in, but it is also rather nice looking. I would have liked to have just gotten other plain dishes for cooking in the oven with, but my sister asked, “What will you serve guests in? How will you entertain? What will you serve me in when I visit?!” I thought the other dishes, which can go in the oven and come with covers for placing leftovers in the fridge, were fine. If it’s good enough to cook in, it’s good enough to serve from. But she wouldn’t have it and scanned in a Corningware set.
I have expressed that if anyone should buy this set for the shower, the first time my sister eats over, I will purposely leave the Corningware out on the counter, empty, and serve her from the plain cooking ware. Obviously Motherhood has not yet sapped all the puckish spite out of me.

Indeed

To answer Laura, the book I was reading was indeed A Very Long Engagement. I finished. I recommend it highly.

The conductors did not call my name the next day, by the way. Evidently they were too busy running the train or something. Some friends they turned out to be.....

~ Angela