As much as I would love to report otherwise, that porch up there is not any part of my home. But it's become my happy place, and lemme tell you, you can find me there A LOT lately. It IS pretty, isn't it? I'm trying to figure out how to decorate it for the holidays. Lemme know if you have any ideas.
So I paid three bills today and then went out to retrieve the mail and got 4 more. Apparently, in answer to the question about what I'm doing differently in this freaked out financial climate, is I'm giving out Al's hard-earned money to every Tom, Dick and Harry who asks for some. Mostly Doctors Tom, Dick and Harry, though. Having a baby is expensive, people.
Also, and this'll answer the question about my next decorating/home improvement project as well as the financial one - two birds, meet one stone - instead of finishing our basement at the end of this year (which is what we'd planned on doing before the entire economy saw a big old hairy mouse, screamed like a girl and climbed up on a chair in terror with its skirt wrapped up around its knees) to accomodate this boy-child who in the not-too-distant future's gonna be needin' somewhere to be staked up and allowed to run off his tiny little testosterone, we will be shovin' everything down there up into one corner or the other and rentin' a shop vac to clean up the dusty yuckiness leftover from construction, layin' down some of those squishy interlocking foam thingies on the floor and littering the whole area with some dump trucks and Lincoln Logs and miles of train tracks and what-have-you so Peabody can go down there and ignore every bit of it and spend his time turning the circuit breakers off and on and distributing the contents of Al's toolbox to the four corners of the world.
Just like any other red-blooded American boy would do in the same situation.
Also, I won't be gettin' a pedicure anytime soon and Al has informed me that I need to learn to love and embrace my P-Dawg cut because that pesky rodent is as close as I'ma get to a stylist again until the market does some serious recoverin'.
He also informed me quite excitedly that he understands there is a strong and lucrative market out there for (avert your eyes, men) breastmilk. I saw him out on the driveway later with my Medela up on blocks, tinkering away and muttering something about "much more suction, much faster pump action, dude" and the next time I turned that bad boy on it sucked up all my bathroom towels and a couple rooms worth of berber carpet.
Also, I've noticed that when we finish up a gallon of 2% lately, Al rinses out the jug and puts it up on my bathroom counter with a little Post-It stuck to the side that says, "Got Milk? Ahem?"
Lastly, I got myself signed up for BlogHer advertising, as you can see up there in the corner and I expect the checks to start rolling in any day now.
I'll be rich, I tell you. RICH!