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  • Now We Are Two

    Yup, I'm sneaking back to share something I made for Hugo's second birthday, which is less than two weeks away, followed by an update.

    Hugo's Birthday

    Hugo is doing wonderfully. Of course, he's still not speaking, not much at all. Maybe we should've named him Harpo.  Yes, he's been evaluated up and down. They said he was advanced in social, cognitive and physical skills.  But his speaking at 18 months was 12 month old level.  We're on our second state-sponsored speech teacher already. She's not worried. The teachers at his school are not worried. And me? I'm not worried, but how I would love it if he was talking! He makes himself known, and he gets by on charm, mime and blonde ringlets.  Nice work if you can get it, eh?

    Me?  I'm loving my work, I'm also on TV quite a bit lately and you can check out some of my "dumb" blogging here.

    Oh and my man is doing fab too.  Here's a hilarious article he wrote about skiing at Alta in Utah for the FT and their "Pink Snow" section.   I think it's the tops.


  • Warning: Disgustingly Cute Video Ahead

    Pre-baby, this video I'm about to spin for you of my Hugo during his naptime, would've made me hurl. The sincerity is pure Grade A syrupy sweetness and it possesses not even a nosehair of a cynical angle that one hang a bitter chapeau on. And so I surely will understand if you want to set fire to your computer upon viewing it.

    Yesterday I promised lots of pictures but instead I've decided to dole them slowly and leave my (quite possibly imagined) throngs wanting more. Plus, well, my man unit just came back from skiing at Alta and I'd rather [redacted personal mushy stuff] right now than upload photos.

    Here's one I took this weekend that I like because the bright sun made Hugo look like a pouty attitudinal baby runway model.

    Strike a pose!

    And, the reason I truly grok that cool vibe he's working above is that "cool" is not something that runs in my family. Usually, our default look is that of an all-too eager mad scientist who fancies vintage (read: hand-me-down) clown clothing. You know, kind of like this:

    Hugo shakes the parakeet seed with zeal and wonders why he can't get a date.

    Oh well, scratch the runway...thank Thor there's always band camp.

    See you on the 'morrow Internet pals,

    xoxo,

    Susie



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