baby.

i need quality time with this little guy, stat.

baby arin and his giant eyes.

cost breakdown of one way tickets from new york to san francisco:

greyhound bus: $215
amtrak train: $310
jetblue plane: $291

(seriously, i can fly cheaper than 2 days on a train. who knew.)

i only searched one way
because i prob wouldn't come back.

some of my best material.

"as a girl, i'm contractually obligated want snuggling."

"contractually obligated to whom?"

"my ovaries."

one more thing:

and i'm probably the last person on the planet to figure this out, but...

when you throw old, useless crap out of your freezer that is just taking up space in there, that you are never going to eat, that you don't need, and it makes room for new, fresh, tasty, wonderful things? it's like throwing useless crap that you don't need and making room for new, fresh, tasty and wonderful things IN YOUR SOUL.

#justfyi

but on a lighter note...

this whole not wanting a boyfriend thing sure brings a lot of cute boys out of the woodwork. which then requires increased resolve when one is enjoying a lenten fast from boyfriend-wanting. so i get to have boys around, but enjoy the holier-than-though feeling of not wanting them.

also, it's way more interesting to talk to people when you aren't constantly worrying about whether or not you think you can tell that they think you're pretty or not.

sweet relief.

punctuation.

confession: i'm a little bit of a desperate editor when it comes to...most things. which is now embarrassing because there are probably (definitely) always going to be tons of errors in everything i write. but, particularly when i blog (especially long-winded things like that last few posts), i go back and re-read them for days and make little changes. words get re-arranged, commas added and removed, spaces deleted, blah blah blah.

as i've done some leisurely tweaking on the lent posts, i realized, with horror, that something about my blog template (i think that's it?) is mucking with the appearance of my spacing after periods. no matter what i do, it looks as though there is only one space after the periods at the end of a sentence. see that? i swear i put two spaces in! i am a FIRM believer in the two-space-post-period rule. not like that's even something you can choose to believe or not believe in. it's like those brain dead kids i went to elementary school with who thought spelling "a lot" as one word was an option. it's just not. and neither is placing only one space between sentences. that's not how spacing between sentences works (it's ok, only zachie and meganlynn will find that one funny).

oh no.

you guys, i'm not going to delete the last two paragraphs because i'm so ashamed i don't even know what to do and i guess the point of blogging is for your shame to be forever memorialized for the whole wide world to see? forever? i don't know. but this is really horrifying.

i'm wrong.

i was googling to find an article to prove how blissfully right i was but, um, no such article exists because it turns out i am so wrong it hurts. ouch. you guys, my thumb doesn't know how to not hit the space bar twice between sentences but it's just going to have to learn or i'm going have to be filled with existential punctuation angst for the rest of my life because unfortunately i was taught to type on a computer which uses non-monoSPACE fonts (which do not require two spaces post-period for readability) by people who learned to type on typewriters which DO use monoSPACE fonts (and, thereby, require two spaces post-period for readability).

(how's that, ed platz? also, who are you?)

slate magazine explains it all.

i can't talk about this. it's making me hyperventilate.

IM SORRY FOR RUINING PUNCTUATION FOR EVERYONE!

lent part deux.

(read this first, if you care to.)

i'm trying out this lent business. there are an incalculable number of things for me to give up that would help me be a better person but one has stood out as i've mulled it over in my little brain. so, until easter, i have given up:

wanting a boyfriend.

this includes, but is not limited to, thinking about the boys i wish were my boyfriend, pining after boys who used to be my boyfriend, wondering why boys who kissed me didn't want to be my boyfriend, coveting the boys who are other girls' boyfriends and wishing they were my own boyfriend, imagining what will happen after my boyfriend becomes my more-than-boyfriend, putting off work projects/housecleaning/practicing my music/exercising/cooking/getting out of bed/everything to read blogs/make lists/draw pictures/daydream inside my head about the dress i will wear and the party i will throw when my boyfriend becomes my more-than-boyfriend...etc. it's occurred to me that the energy i spend doing the aforementioned things is essentially wasted. sure, there are things i can do bring myself closer to magical-boyfriend-land, but at some point, it's done. i'm doing them. if i'm practicing regular hygiene, going to church, being nice to people, practicing my 1:1:1 (what? you don't know about that? maybe someday i will tell you), and generally not being an anti-social trollface, my part is taken care of. the rest of that energy can be spent on things like getting myself on broadway, not being so gosh-darn broke all the time, maybe being a little more mentally/physically healthy, loving heavenly father/the rest of humanity more, and figuring out new and exciting ways to punctuate my run-on sentences. ultimately, i have no right to complain about not having the things i want (a job on broadway, a full bank account, health, an active spiritual life) if i have used up all my energy on covetousness and stylemepretty.com.

so. we'll see how it goes. and if you're trying out giving something up, how about you let me know how it goes too? what fun.

(it also means i'll stop posting rude, passive aggressive posts like the one down there, which i am leaving only because it is a really good song by a really good band that you should go download. but seriously? dumb.)

babies.

as promised.

lily sings.

she also wears wings.

sorry, the rest of these captions will not be in verse.
the baby is sleeeeeeeepy. (also, i dressed him that day. cute.)

his baba dressed him this day.
in the matching skull and crossbones onesies from grandpa.
typical.

lily apparently went to a goat farm?

but don't worry, she cleans up ok, and so does little brother.

little brother is essentially the darlingest.

they both take pushing evan around in the laundry basket
verrrrrrrrry seriously.

can someone please explain to arin that he's not allowed to keep growing?

this pace is totally unacceptable.