Denver DNC Recap: The Important Stuff Part One

It's a super-fabulous sort of really good thing that my husband is leaving town for the next week, because I want a damn baby so bad I can taste it.

No, it's not that I have my heart set on moving in to the nearest shoe, it's just that I went to Denver last week and oh, no, you didn't think I was going to talk about politics, did you?  Nope.  Food & babies, yo, food and babies.

Those of you who have been around for a while here know about Auntie N and Dunkie, and those of you who haven't been, well, my sister - and - brother - in - law - by - proxy - or - something - like - that just recently adopted a little baby girl from Vietnam, who just turned one.  I got to meet her on Friday, and dag, yo.  That kid is totally freaking awesome.  I am fairly sure she speaks better English than I do, after only 3 months in America.  She has these great big black eyes that are dewy like New England mornings and the daintiest little fingertips you've ever seen.  She spent the better part of 2 hours checking me out from a reasonably safe distance, and once I had the Seal of Approval (read; little baby head nod and wink, I swear to god on high) we totally hung out.  We put spit smears all over a great big restaurant mirror.  We repeatedly got in the way of the worst two waiters in the history of waiterdom, because nobody messes with my niece's daddy's Belvedere and Tonic, NOBODY.  We cooed over the tiny little baby in the corner, and admired his shoes, and I think we counted to two or something.  It was Epic.

And then I hung out with LurkerPeg, who is, some of you know, the best lurker in the galaxy.  In fact, you probably don't know it...she's that good.  Anyway, when I had 3of3, LurkerPeg made some off-the-cuff remark to her husband about how cute 3of3 was and how much she'd like to have another eittle wittle baby.  Famous. Last. Words.  LurkerPeg is the proud momma of a 15 year old, a 12 year old, and an almost - but- not - quite - one year old who kind of made me want to die, what with the giggles and the nibbles and the So Big!'s and the scootchy little crawling thing that babies only do for, like, a second, but should do much longer simply due to the sheer cuteness of the whole thing.  I almost shoved her in my suitcase, but I was fresh out of Cheerios.

And then I went to visit Hot Gay Russell, and Hot Gay Russell is making his triumpant return to my blog today.  Never heard of him before?  That's because I had to stop talking about him on the internet a while back, and thank god that's over.  See, he too was adopting overseas, and dear lord, I have never had a nightmare as bad as that adoption was for Hot Gay Russell.  I'm still sketchy about going into details, so I'll skip them and get to the heart of the matter which is a 20 month old linebacker-sized dark skinned baby boy with the best hair I've ever seen on any man ever.  He's only been home for a little over a week, and so he was more or less superglued to his daddy's hips (as in, the hips of his two, individual fathers, who should either be daddy's or daddies, but I am tired.  Also, blond) but after a little buttering up and some flashing of my dangly necklaces, he saw fit to grace me with a snuggle on the couch.

God damn it, I think my ovaries imploded right then and there.

I promise you that I'm not kidding when I tell you that I went up one full cup size on this trip.  And I'm craving broccoli and peanut butter.  My poor, unsued uterus is all, "Hook a sista up, yo!" and the rest of me, and the 4 other people in this house are all, "Shut the fuck up, moron."

But, seriously, come on, if aphids can reproduce asexually, I've got to be able to figure it out.