I recently invested in some shirts at a garage sale. Left those at a Wendy’s, on the way home, so… the economy.

Well, I finally did it. After years of close calls, climbing through windows and the like, I locked myself out of the house and had to pay a locksmith to let me in. You might say, “Hey, at least Ellis wasn’t inside”. And then I might yell in your face, “WRONG! Because if he were, he could have opened the door after being promised Jello-O and I wouldn’t be two hundred dollars poorer.” Yes, you read that correctly, two hundred dollars. Oh, and that EK will only eat Jell-O.

This isn’t like the time that I locked us out while we were moving into our new condo in DC – Big Bill and Little Bill literally holding our couch as we attempted to use a credit card to jimmy our way in. Or when I spent the day at the Bucktown library pre-Ellis reentering my password every 20 minutes since their computers there are programmed to stop people from monopolizing them; I pay my taxes, g-dammit! Or when I locked myself out while I was barefoot, seven months pregnant and wearing Mr. Swirley’s clothes. No, this was a locked out with no cell phone, wallet and a boss who was already irritated with me before being told that I am dumb. Again.

The day started bright and early at one AM with EK screaming for no apparent reason. Since he was sick yesterday, I took pity and caved in to the “mama, hug, couch?” request. An hour and a half later, he was back in his crib and I was in bed – sore from trying to support my weight on one arm since our couch is approximately two inches deep by three wide and he took up the entire space because he is a fatso. Fast forward four hours – alarm beeping, snooze button hit, late, yikes. I shove a bagel in Ellis’ face, head out the door with toddler in one arm and a big pack of diapers in the other (I stole his diapers from school last week when I ran out.) Click. Locked out. Sweet mother of pearl.

I dropped EK off at school and figured I could jimmy my way in because things always work out in the end. You might wonder why I don’t have our house and car keys sharing a ring, and let me tell you, I wonder that same thing every day. Yet nothing changes. To add salt to the wound, I have no idea what purpose four of the six keys on the car ring serve. So that is super helpful.

The entire time I was attempting to break into my home (AGAIN) I was thinking about 1) work and more importantly, 2) denying Mr. Swirley his bowling banquet tonight where he will get lots of bowling alley food and some of the $20/week spent for the past year on bowling refunded in some sort of whacked out awards ceremony. I imagine an MC is sporting a nice mustache and wears his bowling glove to add a little flair to the event. Wouldn’t it be perfect if Mr. Swirley got $200? He won the $200 back! Really I just felt guilty about making him walk a mile to the train stop in the rain at nine AM because I am a complete and utter moron. I don’t even want to hear it, Neil.

So I call a locksmith and dude shows up and told me it will cost me $250. Say what? I offered to pay him his rate in cash and we don’t have to tell his boss –  but it was a no go. What? Aren’t we in Chicago? Is he a red-blooded American or one of those communists I hear about? Freaking May Day. Then he took 12 hours to open the door with me just inches from his face offering sage advice as he jabbed random sharp tools into now busted door knob. Although visibly frustrated, he did complement Mr. Swirley’s installation of our extra security bar thingamajigs which made it virtually impossible to get in. I have to admit that it was somewhat validating he took so long to pop the lock since we paid him what is equivalent to one fiftieth of the cost of  Ellis’ 2038 college algebra book. Maybe I am aiming too low -a pre-Calc book.

While my new frenemy was busy installing our new latch , which in no way matches the existing hardware, I called the contracting company and complained about the price. He got on the phone and pretended to hem and haw when really he had already hung up. I have seen a zillion cop shoes, dude, I know the game. Don’t underestimate me you Hyundai driving locksmith – if I am willing to pay you  under the table, I am certainly going to confirm prices and called his company back. So not only was he angry with me about refusing to allow him re-key all of our locks for $45 a pop – what? I don’t mind having nineteen different keys to get into my house – he then whined about the new price since it he spent a whole 20 minute working on the lock and cracked his phone in the process. If my math is correct, he got paid $10/minute – that is what you pay to talk with Michael Lohan and he is a mega star, right? And regarding the phone, I almost offered to kiss it and make it all better.This city is turning me into a terrible person.

Then I called the cops on lazy ass movers who were parked in the 15 minute loading zone in front of EK’s daycare. I offered them a chance but they did everything but give me the middle finger, so screw them. I really am a terrible person.

I can’t wait to see what $200 mistake I make next week – as of now I am two for two.

We had a re-birthing ritual in my friend’s hot tub. I’m now a level five laser lotus in my Buddhist community.

I don’t know what to write about so here is our April video two days early. Two days early you lucky sons of bs!. If you can make it through the entire video you will see Ellis performing his rendition of the “ABCs” while holding the camera.

Have you ever driven out to a rummage sale the night before, stayed a hotel and shown up bright and early Saturday morning willing to elbow whoever got in your way? Sort of a “spend money to make money” mentality? I haven’t. But we almost did and it was almost amazing. Little Miss Krissa and I still watched Overboard Friday night and drank some delicious beers, but it wasn’t in a dingy motel room. In six months we will do it for real – this was just a practice run and g-d dammit, we were amazing.

Last weekend Johnny Mic and Uncle Dave watched EK while Mr. Swirley played his hippie sports and I went wedding dress shopping with the GM and Sio. Everyone survived their respective activities and Ellis even picked up a few new tricks like calling people “simple” and pulling his pants up.

Have you checked out this blog? IT’S WONDERFUL and mean! Seriously. And this one.

K bye.

The early bird gets the cat litter

This morning Ellis decided that he needed to be up and moving at 5 AM. It was super. I guess I shouldn’t complain because he slept from 7 PM to 3:30 AM, but I still will. Since he seemed so eager to start the day, I got him dressed and ready and we were at daycare at 7 AM. Second time EVER. Dominick’s was just a few blocks away so I decided that it was totally reasonable to go grocery shopping before work. With my little coupon savings folder and some strategery, guess how much I saved? You can’t. It’s that much. 59%. On stuff I actually need/want, not just mass quantities of cheap Cap’n Crunch or something. So hell, idle hands, right? Now I have a pork roast cooking, dishes running and a load of laundry in. I am not sure if I should be proud of this morning’s to-do list or slightly terrified at my efficiency in completing household chores.

In other news, KJY’s scarf is four feet behind me and I can still smell its hippieness.

I always wondered why babies spend so much time sucking their thumbs. Then I tasted baby food.

Now that the holidays are over, we have entered a little season I like to call “the suck”. It lasts from early January through April. You want proof of the suck? Here you go.

Maybe you don’t think it looks that bad, but it is. And obviously so is my attitude.

In other news, apparently not only do I have a negative outlook, but I am a bad wife. Today I sent Mr. Swirley the following email re: boob milk for Ellis:

Also, you thawed 12 ounces this am…he eats 5-6 and I make four bottles each day (we have one from yesterday). So its good to thaw 15-24 oz each day. Thanks, boo

His response:

Oh, thought you said you only needed two bottles.  I know how much he eats…

 The ellipses say it all.

Last night I went to a baby food making class put on by the Kids’ Table. It was fantastic. I, of course, had to write down everything in detail  (e..g, rip leaves off of swiss chard stalk)…because I apparently can’t figure out how to steam vegetables out on my own. Elena cooked up seven different items (beets, swiss chard, sweet potatoes, cauliflower, bananas, avocado and mango) and we sampled them all. It looks like Ellis and I will be sharing baby food because it was all delicious. So today I am going to go buy an immersion hand blender and get on the organic hippie baby food train. Watch out Ellis, next thing you know I may decide to mask that wet dog smell with some patchouli oil.

Contradicting myself.

Today, Ms. Marie reminded me of my love for the group, Band of Horses (BOH). I accept they are long-haired, bearded dirty hippies. I have finally forgiven the dirty hippie fan that not only touched my back with her music-festival going bare feet, but also spilled beer on me before their 2009 Lollapalooza concert. And I have even been able to look past the fact that although BOH were not yet a “huge” band, their set started 45 minutes later than scheduled (yes, I know Lou Reed went over. It’s Lou Reed. Deal.) However, I can’t seem to come to terms with BOH playing four songs into Jane’s Addiction’s set – the headliner and founder of the music festival. Not only did it create a horrible cacophony of electric guitars and helicopter engines, but pitted Jane’s Addiction fans against BOH fans – I don’t think we have to guess who would win in that fight. Needless to say, Perry was, umm, fairly put out.

Yet I still like BOH. Below is a short ditty I like to hum along to while thinking about how dirty I feel for simultaneously liking and hating this band.

And here is Perry and Dave doing their thing @ Lolla: