Ah, a beautiful September morning. Pitch black, sixties, and me up with the beet for the day at 4:30. Usually he doesn't get up until 6:00, but he does make exceptions sometimes. I figure it's better to just get up with him then lay in bed and listen to him scream. Although, it does seem like a toss up occasionally. I thought I'd put my extra time to good use to do a blog, bleary-eyed as I am. Hopefully I make sense and don't sound too much like I really need to still be sleeping. It wouldn't be quite so bad if he hadn't gotten up a couple of times during the night first. Oh, well. Ce la vie, eh? Somehow, I think I liked things a little better before he developed an internal alarm clock. He used to wake up with the sun. Well, now it's still dark at 6:00. At least his naps and bedtime are pretty regular. Naps at 9 and 1, then bed at 7. Maybe I'll go to bed at 7 tonight too...

   Okay, enough about sleeping or lack thereof. Will has decided that belly time is a great and wonderful thing, to the point that he likes to sleep that way, play that way, even have his diaper changed that way. As a result, I've gotten pretty good at administering face-down butt changes. They aren't nearly as hard as I thought they would be. Steve still fights him to keep him on his back when he changes him, saying he's not as coordinated as I am. Hmm. I think the opposite is true; if he can keep the wriggling little guy on his back and change his diaper at the same time, he's a better man than I am. Which, of course, he is.

   It's so interesting to see what fascinates our little tyke. The things he likes to play with are varied far and wide. His current favorite toys aren't actually toys at all; a spatula, a measuring cup, an old remote control, and a plastic bottle. He does still play with his "real" toys, but they are definitely a second (or third or fourth) choice. We had to retire his number one favorite toy a couple of days ago. It's a Sesame Street "Jam with Elmo" guitar that plays three different songs and makes electric guitar noises. He's dropped it (or thrown it) enough times now that the recording sounds like a 1930's warped record played with low batteries. It's truely frightening. Steve and I are nothing but relieved; if I have to hear a guitar version of "How to get to Sesame Street" one more time, I'm gonna take a frying pan something. Probably said guitar.

   We have a couple of kitties now, although "have" is probably the wrong word. There is a feral momma and two kittens living under our deck. The kittens are probably about two months old, and one of them is the spittin' image of it's mother. It's eerie to see them side by side. We've taken to calling the momma Pib (for Puss in Boots cause she has white booties on all for feet) and the identical kitten Kit and the all black kitten Carson. We do put out kitty food and water for them, but they are still very skittish and we can only see them via the window. Probably just as well. Who knows what kind of things they might be carrying, and we don't want to have to worry about them if we move anytime soon.

    Speaking of moving, there is another port of call to set our sights for on this journey of finding a new office. Steve's boss Jim called him up to tell him about two openings for a fire weather forecaster in the Storm Prediction Center in Norman, OK. The SPC is, hands down, the biggest deal in the weather service, for those of you who don't know. If he could get in there, his career would be made. He has a decent shot at it, seeing as he's a fire weather focal point for the San Diego office and is very familiar with West coast severe weather. That's one thing the SPC is lacking; a good understanding of West coast severe weather. So, keep your fingers crossed. Yes, it's Oklahoma, but there actually are a lot of pros to that very thing. Housing is awesomly cheap. Steve still has friends there from his college days. It's in the plains, which means Steve can go storm chasing in the spring, although Norman itself seems to have a little bubble around it and tornados rarely even get close to it. It's a big enough city that it has everything we could ask for, and if there is something we find lacking, Dallas is only a few hours away. So, we'll see. We're still waiting to hear from Reno about an interview; Steve is betting that they're gonna call for one while we're on vacation in Utah at the end of the month. I'm not gonna take that bet.

  The beeter is right on the verge of both crawling and walking, but just a little closer to crawling (thank God). It really frustrates him that he can't do it yet, which means that he screams more than he used to. As in, every five minutes instead of ten. He's going to be hell on wheels as soon as he's mobile. In some ways, I'm pretty glad he's not there yet. His most recent accomplishment is that he's learned how to drink out of a sippy cup all by himself. He is not a fan of juice, but loves him some water. No complaints here.