Dear Dyson

Thank you.

Vacuum running with nowhere to go (nah, I'm not going to actually use it) = a sleeping baby. Hallelujah.


That Postcard You're Always Meaning to Send

So yep, I've fallen off the face. This is what happens with a young babe like Miss Arden, who I have lovingly named Babytator (as in the wee version of a dictator, not the tot-style of potatoes). Babytator likes to live on the edge, which means I wake every day wondering what time - or if - I will get out of the house. If Babytator has her two or so naps in the morning, afternoon is open! Watch out world! (Seriously, some of these diapers require a toxic cleanup akin to the B&P disaster.) If not . . . Una arrives home to a flying baby headed straight for his arms as I sprint out the door for a stress-relieving run.* 

Anywho, was flipping through the latest issue of Better Homes & Gardens (in place of the many, many shelter magazines that have closed, this one has youthened up a ton and is fully worth the subscription) and discovered this app. 

For Android and iPhones - the Postagram application ( takes a photo from your phone and for a fee of 99 cents, turns it into a postcard with your message and mails it anywhere in the world. How cool is that?

Course I don't have an Android or iPhone. Family! Friends! Send me, Una and the Babytator a postagram! Preferably of the outdoors, which I don't see much of these days. 

*Sadly, these runs are few and far between thanks to the ridiculous heat wave we've been having. Oh yeah, and the crap food I eat. Meals are defined by: me not making it, and what arrives the fastest. 


Bravo Summer Camp

I just love this commercial and all its variations on Bravo.

I mean, seriously. This is exactly the adult version of camp I would sign up for. 
Oh yeah, and Curtis is cute, man.