Monday.

I had several titles swirling around in my head and none of them seemed quite right. So, Monday it is. Let's make up for that with a picture of Helena and Baby Gus. She loves him. She looks a little smug about how much she loves him.

Well, I was in such a good groove for the more frequent blogging and then I went and let a whole week go by. Remember that odd song, "Groove is in the Heart"? Obviously, the groove was not in my heart. I've been thinking about something I read about that book Outliers by Malcom Gladwell (I haven't read it, but it has been on My List for a very long time). Apparently he posits that it takes around 10,000 hours to achieve excellence in a given something. So I was thinking that if I blogged more frequently, maybe at some point my cumulative hours of writing would get to 10,000 hours and then I might be an excellent writer. It just seems very tiring. Maybe if I just do, say, 500 hours and become a slightly above average writer?

When something like Syria is going on I get very gloomy and inside-my-brain-y, and instead of doing productive things to overcome the gloom, I get stuck on random questions of great significance like Why Is It That I No Longer Like Frozen Yogurt. Because I just don't. I used to love TCBY white chocolate mousse. I don't know that TCBY even exists anymore, but there are at least 5 other frozen yogurt places near our house, and I am never interested in partaking. I am especially affronted by those places where you pump your own frozen yogurt in the gigantic cup and then they weigh it and you pay around $8.45 for something that would have been $2 back at TCBY circa 1993. I think the sweet flavors are too sweet (and I would rather use those calories for real ice cream with real butter fat. Hi Ben! Hello Jerry!) and the tart flavors don't seem desserty enough. I'd rather eat Greek yogurt and pat myself on the back for all that protein. Then have a nice bowl of  Haagen Daaz chocolate peanut butter.

Maybe I need to do an entire series on my Eating Philosophy. It is bizarre and yet effective: I eat whatever I want and yet I weigh significantly less than I did when I was 25. Rule 1: Don't eat frozen yogurt that you pump yourself. Eat real ice cream.

The grandparents P were here this weekend to babysit while I went to the dentist (not great) and then celebrated Mrs. S turning 40 with fondue and some other delightful couples at Mr. and Mrs. W's house (splendid, just splendid). I tried to cram lots of dentistry into one appointment and that ended up being a bad idea. Though I was reminded of C.S. Lewis' observation that it is right to give frequent thanks that we live in the Age of Anesthesia. They even put topical stuff on so you don't feel the shots in your mouth anymore. That is something, isn't it? Then on Saturday night, Mr. and Mrs. W outdid themselves with the fondue. O warm, wine-infused cheese! How I love thee on a bread cube!

That will have to be all. The 5:30 am Bible study with the church ladies is back in full swing, which means my alarm will sound in 7 hours.