Pansy

So, I know my friends in Indiana and Utah, and basically anyplace that isn't southern California are going to call me a pansy for saying this, but I'm going to anyway.

It's cold here!

Yes, I know, 50+ degrees in February is downright balmy in most of the continental US, but in most of the continental US where it gets cold people also build homes and offices with functional heaters, double-paned windows that actually insulate a bit, and (maybe even better) with actual insulation in the walls to, you know, insulate. Since SoCal has such great weather all the time such expensive niceties aren't really standard. While we can open the blinds on our floor to ceiling windows and let in as much light as filters through the evergreen eucalyptus outside, it's not really enough to keep the temperature in the office much more than slightly above ambient outdoor temperature. Which right now, if you're curious, is 62 degrees--up from the 54 it was when we walked in.

Anyway, we've had a good weekend. I have a new calling (1st councilor in the Primary Presidency. I have no idea what that entails yet, though) and skipped out of my last opportunity to lead music in RS to go to a baby shower. I do want to say I hate getting new callings, just because I'm always so sad to be released from the old one. It doesn't matter how much I know I'll love the new one--I'm always sad to leave a calling.

In any case, the shower was a lot of fun. Most of the showers I've been to haven't involved a lot of games because apparently most people think are lame. Being lame myself, I had fun playing the games, though I also I haven't played too many of them before. The one I had played (or been the subject of, anyway) was the estimate the size of the mom-to-be's belly. This was played at one of my showers and the thing I noticed was that people generally way overestimated the size of my belly. I figured the same thing would happen here, and it did, but less than at my shower. Most of us took the piece of string and wrapped it around our bellies, then estimated how far out the mom-to-be's belly went. I was within 1/2 inch, which was only good enough for third place in this crowd of rather good estimators.

I'm leaving the gross part of the weekend for last. If you don't like poop stories, stop reading.

As many of you know, we use cloth diapers. I'm a big fan, if for no other reason than because they're cheap. Sure, cleanup of the poopy diapers is a little gross, but even that isn't all that bad. The absolute BEST part of cloth diapers is that the ones we have use snaps rather than velcro, which, up until recently, has kept the diapers on Sylvia's behind until I am ready to deal with changing her.

Lately, though, she's learned how to take off her diaper.

The other day she took one off shortly after I'd checked it. I asked her if it was wet, and she said yes, so I wasn't terribly surprised or concerned when she started to remove it. Then I saw the inside and realized it was too dark to simply be wet. Unfortunately, by the time the color of the diaper registered, it was already off and my daughter was launching it from between her legs up into the air. I watched it arc in slow motion, yelling, "NO!!!"

Fortunately, it landed diaper-side down.

I so hope she potty trains soon.