I can't be alone in thinking that this baby looks positively edible.
Guess what the P in Baby P stands for? I'm not counting on this fact ameliorating my sadness at being with him instead of a bunch of drunk wankers on St. Patrick's Day. Irish pubs may be lowbrow, low-class, cliched places to be on March 17, but I don't care.
I'm back in CT, if you haven't cottoned on to that yet, and it is NOT snowing right now. I expect that it will soon. I will be here until April 8, trying not to eat carbs. (I'm pretty sure the baby is a carb bomb, so I'm not actually going to eat him. He's also sick, again, and I am trying not to ingest any virus as I'm still not over his last one.)
Speaking of my recent Worst Cold Ever, I have a pain in my left side, just beneath my ribs, that is normally kind of dull but becomes excruciating hen I sneeze (which I'm already doing a lot of) or laugh (I gave that up, along with my job and smoking.) It's reached the point that I would totally see a doctor, except i don't have any insurance or any money. I am staying with two doctors, but I don't really want to ask them to palpate me. I may have to, though. I'd hate for something in there to explode and compromise my trip to Costa Rica.
Well, I think I'll go google possible diagnoses for myself. If you're a member of my family and you're reading this, chances are you've already decided that it's cancer, because that is always what we decide when a mystery ailment presents itself. To you I say, step off, because since I quit smoking I am IMMUNE to cancer. Definitely guaranteed not to die of, nor even contract, any kind of cancer, ever.
Go google that statement yourself and you will see that it's totally true.