twotothree

Look at those faces.  Clearly up to no good.

I feel obligated to make a few shout-outs after the events that transpired this weekend.

To the makers of boxed wine: I both love and loathe you.  Who can resist the prospect of 34 glasses of Merlot for a mere $14?  I will answer that hypothetical question - those who really like wine and are ok with classlessness.

To the friends who give me the excuse to drink such wine: thank you.  You tolerate my drunken TMI with such grace, and you don't even care that Gloria always seems to wake up to make an appearance halfway through all of our get-togethers.  Sloppy over-confessions and babies?  Most people would be long gone by now.

To my mother-in-law: you have raised one incredible son.  A man who will get home from work at midnight to his wife and her friends slurring about moobs (don't Google that ...), put our daughter back to sleep, get up with her at six o'clock in the morning because I have a hangover, and wake me up at one p.m. with a, "I have to go work, but I ironed your scrubs for tomorrow."

I'm usually good about drinking enough to feel those magical happy wine vibes, but not so much that three a.m. finds me at the computer with no pants and eating half of a meatloaf cold out of the pan.  This weekend was a mulligan.

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Gloria is all over the place.  That kid can crawl like .... something that crawls really super fast.  The other day I gave her a bath, and then left the room for six seconds to go make a bottle.  This is what I found when I returned: