me like tractor, me hate war

Last night we had a friend over to drink homemade wine (his) and watch the NHL Network (the stupidest gift I could ever give me husband because I never see him anymore). We were discussing all sorts of things while Bumper put on a good show: she flirted shamelessly, ate oatmeal and sweet potato and allowed our friend the privilege of holding her for two entire minutes without screaming (her not him). After a while our chatter left the hockey realm and we had one of those "who would you have to dinner" type discussions. Our friend said "Can you imagine having dinner with Naomi Klein, Avi Lewis and Stephen Lewis? Wouldn't you feel like an absolute pea brain?". We all laughed and agreed. I'm sure that dinner configuration isn't that far-fetched considering they are all related and yes I would feel like a pea-brain. I'd probably stick my finger up my nose and say something like "me like tractor, me hate war" and then faint from fear of speaking in their presence. So the conversation stuck with me for a while and while I was rocking Bumper to sleep last night I started thinking about MY dinner party....

I, blogsphere, would have all the occupants of my "places I lurk visit daily" blog list (see sidebar) over for dinner. Actually, I would invite more then just the list. Over the past while I have been "discovering" all sorts of great people out there and I'd have you all at my dinner party. We would sit at one huge table and the food and drink would be endless. The conversations would be fantastic, witty, heated and hilarious. All our wonderful children would sleep through our antics (after being perfect angels for the first half of the night and all playing well together). We would end the night with table dancing and tequila shooters. And I would never feel like a pea-brain. I may not come across as eloquent, I may be grammatically challenged, and I have yet to find or even near-hit my stride when it comes to blogging but I can hold a great conversation, make new friends and drink a sailor under the table. And do a mean table dance. I could write endlessly about the type of night it would be but Bumper will not allow me to do so - she's complaining to Bump Daddy right now so I know the knock at the door will come soon ("I think she might be hungry..."). But if anyone happens upon this post - I'd love to hear about your "dinner party".

Bumper and I are headed to the East Coast tomorrow to visit my parents. We leave a lonely Bump Daddy to his own devices but I am looking forward to seeing my parents. Of course, they are more interested in Bumper (what the heck! but then they have had 36 years to get to know me). Last time we went to visit, they grabbed the stroller with Bumper and left me to haul the luggage like a sherpa. But I will not complain - they only get to see her every three months and that just isn't fair.

too cute to caption...