Isn't it crazy annoying when bloggers start a post with an apology for not posting? Like they automatically assume you EVEN NOTICED in the first place, and CARED in the second place, because they are self-absorbed egomaniacs who imagine that dozens of people are sitting at their computers terribly worried because they couldn't be bothered to sit down and grace the world with a few sparsely punctuated sentences? I know, right?
Anyway! I am very sorry for not posting there, for a few days. I went back up to Pennsylvania again, for about the millionth time, for a good old-fashioned terminal-illness-related family reunion with some of my siblings. Siblings I haven't seen in years. Like, before my children were born years. Family togetherness for the WIN.
I kind of don't want to talk about it. I mean, it was fine. It was just strange and very...heavy with cancer. You know? I think I'll just post some pictures instead.
This is my brother's dog Jack. Jack is the dog for whom the phrase WHO'S A GOOD BOY? was invented. Because he is the best boy, yes he is, shnuffle shmoopy etc. Noah especially enjoyed riding him like a pony.
I am not even slightly exaggerating.
Jack is an incredibly patient Pillow Pet animal. Noah is now requesting that we get a "real dog."
Ezra spent a lot of time in the closet playing peekaboo, but I think the poor little guy was mostly just trying to stay out of the Line Of Nonstop Doggy Kisses. The perils of life at tongue-level, unfortunately.
I took about 25 photos of the boys with their cousin. This is the closest I got to a "good one." There are six boy cousins/nephews/grandchildren in our family, and only one girl. (Who is now 22 years old and no longer amenable to pink frilly princess clothing or toys.) I cannot even tell you the amount of open, naked pressure my current fetus is under to break the streak.
Speaking of that, my belly officially popped and rounded out during the car ride home from Pennsylvania on Sunday, which was not really comfy, what with my wardrobe choice of skinny jeans and all. I mean, I know that it's not the baby or anything...more like my intestines have been forced upward and outward to make room for things yet to come. Like limbs, I suppose. And another giant 95th percentile melon head.
Anyway, I would have posted all of this yesterday, except there was Blogging-Excuse-You-Don't-Care-About number two, which is that I was supposed to have a big fancy sponsored post go up yesterday, but then...it didn't, for various Oh-My-God-There-Is-No-Way-Anybody-Cares-About-This reasons, and then I thought it would go up first thing this morning but I still haven't gotten the green light or the tracking codes or the logos or the pudding pops or whatever else it is I need. So I figured I'd rush in and post something else instead while I wait, thus pretty much guaran-goddamn-teeing that I will have to publish the other post FOURTEEN SECONDS after hitting publish on this one, because that is just how things like that work out.
(This scintillating look at the inner workings of corporate sponsored blogging is brought to you by the letter A, the number 4, and zombies.)