How Did SHE Get in This Handbasket?

Well....okay...I know HOW, but still it is amazing to find a beautiful baby girl sleeping on my lap as I type this. Although I am admittedly biased, she's quite a looker. I fully expected her to look like Winston Churchill, like most babies, but not even a little.

While I like having such a cutie, I confess I'm just a tiny bit bummed I can't do my Churchill bit with her (hold up baby in front of face, and say "We shall fight them on the beaches...."). No, really, it KILLS at parties.

I feel a little bad about the state of the world we have brought her into - oddly driven home by the hospital giving us a copy of the newspaper for her date of birth - but some of that is ameliorated by the fact that she lives in a very blue part of the city in a very blue part of the state in a very blue part of the country.

That, and I get to read to her all kinds of great books, including this amazing one we just discovered (thanks Josh & Anke).

So, I know I always seem to have an excuse for the lack of post, but I this is a pretty good one. It may also make more understandable my extreme, post-killing motivation behind my adventure in heating plumbing.

P.S: I hold firm to all my previous assertations: If I wax rhapsodic about poo, y'all can smack me upside the head.