As I had to confess this morning, I cannot read Hop on Pop to my kids without thinking of Robert Mapplethorpe.

"Pat, bat. Pat sat on bat. No, Pat, no, don't sit on that!"

It got me and Badger and Ep all asnort this morning, anyhow. Now, why do we call ourselves the Bad Moms again?

Seymour, Iz, and Leelo were all home sick yesterday. Our poor boy was so wiped that he put himself to bed last night, skipping the usual thirty-to-sixty minute wrestling session. Today the sickos are just Seymour and Leelo. All I can say is that I am grateful to own one of these, and to have an onsite laundry facility.

Iz and I had a nice mellow hike through the preserve behind our house yesterday. We had a lovely time together; it was the perfect antidote to the frustration that had me wailing about her in the Shut Up! entry below.

We caught the tail end of the famous wildflower displays, and she got to practice skibbling down the trail. We mostly discussed how poisonous attributes help plants survive as a species, and how "success" in a plant community depends upon your perspective (e.g., poison oak is an unqualified local success story--if you happen to be poison oak).

Last night was the series finale of Angel here in the States. While I think that the show deserved another two seasons, I also think they did a decent job of wrapping it up. I will be suffering severe Buffyverse withdrawals, but better this than having the series go stale and listless like the X-Files, or rolling out an uninspired co-universe series like the deplorable Voyager, or unwatchable Enterprise.

Leelo is napping in the middle of the day, just in case all the barfing didn't convince us that he is truly ill. I am going to take advantage of this lull and lie down for a bit. I hit the second trimester on Tuesday, but someone forgot to tell my body to throw a switch because I'm still Ms. Nausea and Exhaustion.

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