Hey 19

M is 19 months old. That's right, internettes. It has been nineteen months since This Joo pushed that bad boy out of her ladybits whilst surrounded by a veritable crowd of well-wishers. At 19 months M - a.k.a The Otter/The Bird/The Little Gray Mouse/The Little Brown Louse/The Grouchy Gray Grouse- amuses this Joo with his daily antics of telling EVERY DOG IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD TO "HUSH", saying "no" to everyone else, and having Autistic-like fascinations with bubbles (which he asks for fifty times a day).

No, he's not yet sleeping through the night. And, yes, he's still nursing. KEEP YOUR LAWS OFF MY BODY. Wha?

Awesome Stinkface Photo Copyright 2011 Jessamyn North Photography

This Summer Sucks My Balls and Your Balls

please note the casts and the red streak in A's hair

Just for the record this summer has been nothing but a giant pain in the ass for me and my charming offspring. Esquire, however, is having the summer of dreams what with his training runs for the 50 mile race he is doing in August. You read it right. I know. Kill me first. The first memo received early summer was to let me that my first born is oops deaf. Great. So it wasn't my imagination that for the last three months I was having to put a bullhorn up to her ear and yell into it through a microphone for her to hear me. Alleriges...tubes...and we have hearing. Oh and she is allergic to everything. Including your balls. Next J also had to have a set of the tubes put in. Check. No more ear infections. And then...the biggest of all balls...B catapulted herself out our living room window. Perhaps some of you recall A doing this 3 years ago. Well I clearly didn't learn any lessons from that so I have continued to keep my windows open. Sure enough I was just getting into the tub with J when A started screaming and then...oh God...oh shit...oh big, fat balls...running outside completely naked, picking B up, B passing out, me screaming to get the neighbors, calling Esquire, going to ER, being admitted, and two broken arms and a concussion and strangely no visit from CPS. There my friends is what a shitty summer includes. Oh and just to add to the glory we are going camping for a week. Ha.

Weeeeeeeee're Baaaaaaaaaaaaack

These Joos apologize for their long absence. They were saving baby seals in Afghanistan. Or something.

To recap the last few months, the little bungalow is done (more later on that), the Joos are joos, and B fell out a window and broke her head and both arms (but is otherwise fine).

And we promise to be better about posting if you'll just give us half a chance in the future. Aw, baby, don' be like that. Come on'. Give Jooie some sugar...

"I'm Not Finished"

As Edward Scissorhands famously said to the Avon lady who discovered him, the little house is not yet finished. But we're getting there. Really.

This has been an eye-opening experience. In the course of rehabbing the little house, this Joo has learned all kinds of things that she, the experienced bungalow drooler, did not know. For instance, didst thou know that unglazed porcelain hex tile still exists? It does. And it's not too expensive from your local big box tile store. Didst thou know that a vintage wall sink from the 1930's can be had at a salvage yard in the Midwest for around $15? It can. Also, red oak floors simply coated with oil-based polyurethane turn the color of red oak floors covered with varnish 100 years ago. TRUE STORY.

All this and much, much more await this Joo in the Little House That Could. Move-in is scheduled for March 26. NO FOOLING.

fin

Dance Hall Days, Love

Thanks to Past Perfect, historic preservation consultants, I tracked down the above article, written during the construction of the little bungalow in 1910 and published in the local paper. This article confirms that the little bungie is not a kit house, but rather constructed and planned by a local builder.

While this is very cool, perhaps what is most cool is the description of the second floor, "...the second story is left entire, to be used as a gymnasium, dance hall, or anything else that the owners may desire." Take your baby by the hand indeed!

Jooapalooza Day 1

M and Little Ju's wardrobes are provided by Pewabic Pottery, Detroit, Michigan.

Imported From Detroit

So, it's not often that this Joo speaks of football or cars, but a car company aired a commercial during the Bowl of Supers that deserves kudos. Chrysler's homage to the D, as these Joos affectionately refer to Detroit, made this Joo all shivery.

Those who know these Joos know that the Joos love Detroit in all its squalor, which is why they have chosen the D for the first annual Jooapalooza next weekend.

So, bravo Chrysler! Detroit needed the publicity (and you probably did too).

Jooapalooza

The brainchild of Joos' Addiction (to hardware), the first annual Jooapalooza is scheduled for next weekend. Jooapalooza attendees can expect a tour of Pewabic Pottery in Detroit, shopping for hardware for the little bungie that could, and much, much more. Sorry, folks. Jooapalooza is open to nursing Joos and their nursing babies only. And, yes, I'm still nursing M. STOP ASKING ME THAT. WHY IS EVERYONE SO OBSESSED WITH MY BOOBS?

fin

Kitty Kitty Kitty?

Having seen a few bungies nearly identical to the little bungie that could(n't), this Joo had been trying to find plans for a kit house that match. While it's possible this was just a builder's designed that was re-used, this Joo suspects otherwise. Anyone out there in cyberland a kit house expert? Can you play the memory game with this house? Rumor has it the LBTC was built in 1915, although that date has not been verified by this Joo. The layout is: entry, then right to living room, straight back to dining, then kitchen (half of which could've been a porch at one time). On the left are two beds, a small bath, and a hall leading to the upstairs.

INQUIRING JOOS WANNA KNOW.

El Peso Pit-o

Being a jet-setter has its disadvantages, namely, this Joo can't recall how up-to-speed the Internettes are on Mrs. Blandjoo's Dream House. Demolition has been completed, and the worker bees are busy reinforcing the attic so the whole thing doesn't fall on this Joo's head. The good news is that work is progressing. The bad news is that the demolition uncovered still more work that lies ahead. Therefore, it looks as if this Joo will be not be living in the Little Bungalow That Could(n't) until April at the very latest.

In other news, Good Joos kidneys continue to revolt, and it looks as though she will again be going under the knife. For what? These Joos know not. When? These Joos know not. Perhaps this surgery has something to do with Good Joo's super secret dick http://youlllearntokeephouse.blogspot.com/2009/10/joos-dick.html . Perhaps not. Stay tuned for the next installment to find out.

The Phrench

Despite this Joo's rather intimate association with the Phrench, they never cease to amaze me. Although prior to the present visit, I vaguely recalled that the Phrench enjoy a scented toilet paper, I had forgotten this little factoid. The dirty foreigner and his family seemed to have risen above the hint of "lack of indoor plumbing"ness of that particular affinity, and appeared to choose only plain, unscented (albeit always pink) toilet paper. Until now.

Who knew. Who knew that anyone, and I mean anyone, would ever want their ladybits (or gentbits as the case may be) to smell like a peach candle? Hmm? And when this Joo went out on the interwebs to find illustrations for this particular entry, she found that toilet paper in France is available in a dizzying array of disgusting scents, including without limitation mandarin orange, strawberry, lilac, ad nauseum. And, for those who "want to give themselves a little inspiration" (which must be French for "when you want to rub one out in the bathroom"), French toilet paper is also available imprinted with illustrations from the (I am not making this up) Kama Sutra. Because buying separate porn is such a hassle.

So, cheers to the French. And happy belated birthday to Good Joo. This Joo will be back from la la Francy in a week or so to shower her with gifts. In the meantime, gypsies, tramps, and thieves, my house is attended, so don't even think about it.

Love,

Bad Joo