So, I suh-huck at blogging lately. Seriously suck. Suck Suck suckity. The Turkey Sub told me I suck (in general) the other day so I've had to stop saying it aloud... hence the usage five times just now. She can't read yet, suckas! You suck. Ok, I'm done.
You don't really suck. Luff you.
I have approximately 7,000 pictures of our last month in Chicago, and the thought of posting them is giving me an ulcer. Mostly because I'm trying to avoid stirring up the feelings of utter devastation that are already so close to the surface and ready to overflow during any of the many moments that I come face to face with the reality of having left that glorious place.
And that may have been the best sentence I've ever written.
What I'm trying to say is I'm sad. Like REALLY sad. Waaaay more sad than anyone else has ever been, probably. In fact, I'll just stop talking about it before you lose interest cause you can't relate.
SO, since I'm not emotionally prepared to post about my last blessed moments in Chicago, OR our heavenly couple of weeks in Utah and Idaho before the big move, I'm going to tell you about our first week on this new and exciting and weird and wonderful little planet directly across the river from Manhattan called Hoboken, New Jersey. Pronounced HOboken, not HoBOken, like you might think and then get looked at funny and made fun of and corrected 15 times.
Now, don't go gettin' all excited and wettin' yer drawers. Don't go thinkin' I've got a bunch of crazy tales to tell about me changing our name to Palmbino and starting an organized crime family or joining the cast of Jersey Shore or nutin'. Because none of those things worked out and I'm still feeling a little sensitive.
Mostly I've just been trying to keep my 3-year old interested in bouncing a tennis ball off the wall all day while I unpack, since we've been living without our furniture or toys. She's gonna really be surprised when I get all of our home decor items out and situated and she starts getting spanked for throwing balls in the house. It'll be a good joke.
Anyway, here we go!
We'll start with a little shot of the street outside of our building just to give you the feel of this quaint little urban NYC neighborhood. I don't have many pictures yet, and this is the only one of any of the general splendor I've taken so far, so it'll have to do.
Leah got straight to work breaking in the swings at Church Square Park, a glorious little park two blocks from our apartment that is surrounded by beautiful old churches... I'm obsessed.
To prove I was just kidding about the tennis ball/spanking thing, here's documentation of what Leah's really been up to...
...lots of nude painting with DJ Lance...
and a little of this...
She's a natural..
We took a walk down to the waterfront and encountered some roided out gangster geese. We naively wheeled Leah through the onslaught holding a cookie, which they immediately sniffed out, along with her fear. Here you'll notice Leah desperately clutching her wee little cookie while they ascended and actually bit (pecked?) her leg. And I stood by to take pictures.
Don't think I didn't punt that little bastage into the water. Cause I did. Well, not into the water, but I did kick it. And it flared out it's wings and hissed at me. And I spat upon it. And then we fought.
To the death.
And judging by who's sitting here writing this here blog post, I think it's pretty clear to see who won.
And I may or may not have been promoted to the goose family underboss.
Too much? Dang you, I knew it.
These are our lovely neighbors who are excellent in every way and so "new york" it hurts. You'll notice both of my girls in their underwear. That's because whenever either of them are even spotted through our window, they are snatched up over the fence and dropped in the pool or whatever other wondrous activity they've got going on.
The other day the police showed up at their apartment and I was certain they had called the cops on us. Leah and I had been engaged in an enthusiastic reenactment of "Mother knows best," (important lesson, you know) and that song can get rather spirited. I sat there in legitimate terror thinking they were reporting us for child abuse. Or disturbing the peace. Turns out it was just an accidental 911 dialing. But a close call for me and my marijuana crop.
Cool parade celebrating one of the catholic saints on the way home from the park yesterday. See the statue they're carrying? There was lots of trumpeting and lighting things on fire and stuff.
I realized I haven't taken any pictures of Eve since we've been here. Mostly because she's been strapped to me in the ergobaby everywhere we've gone lately... so I thought I'd share this little gem taken a couple weeks ago in Utah so she doesn't read this when she gets older and think I didn't love her.
And one with me in it for good measure. Also, not in Hoboken. But the only picture taken of me in weeks with make up on. Pretty revolutionary.
And that's about it. Haven't even been to the city yet. Even though it's ONE measly mile away. But I think we will go this weekend... and then I'll assault you with so many pictures of how fun we are that you'll instantly book a ticket to come see us. You won't be able to help yourself.
