The Golf is in a Coma--But Pizza Fixes Everything

I'm in the process of composing an "Eliot User Manual" for Christopher's mom.  I'm hoping that isn't insulting, but I think it'd be helpful to know our established routine so she can recognize his signals.  I am not looking forward to leaving Eliot....  And I'm kind of worrying about Eliot giving her a hard time.

I have been so wrapped up in the terror of leaving my baby for a couple of nights that I haven't really considered the fact that Christopher and I might actually have fun in New Orleans.  Fun without Eliot?  Having Eliot around makes everything so much more fun.  But maybe we'll make do.  I promise not to whine on here about leaving him.

He is so cute.

About a week ago, my car gave some coughs when Elizabeth and her boyfriend borrowed it.  It is that time again.  New battery!  We weren't certain, though, but when Chris went to drive to campus for a meeting, it was surely dead.  We live on a tight street.  It's an old city and many of the houses don't have driveways, so the streets are lined with cars.  It has been difficult at best to find a good time to jump start the old Golf and take it in for a new battery.  We got it going and Chris went off to get a new battery installed. Both Advanced Auto and Auto Zone would not install the battery, though, because it is by the fuse box.  Those tricky Volkswagens and their German engineering.  Chris then headed over to Sears.  They would do it, but they didn't have the right battery in stock.  We're not looking at any sort of special battery here....  Chris came back home and quit.  We'll just set up an appointment with the dealership or Sears when we get back from New Orleans.  We're leaving in two days.  I have way too much to do before we leave (grading, schoolwork, laundry, cleaning, a couple of appointments, the usual). 

After that frustration, we treated ourselves to pizza.  I joked with Chris that if I were the type of person who updated Facebook a lot, I'd write that I was making bad decisions at Rivermont Pizza.  It is too good and I eat too much.  Eliot flirted with everyone around him and snacked on puffs.  We got at least four baby compliments on how cute and sweet he was.  Everyone loves Eliot.  I can't blame them.  Right now, he keeps putting his fingers in my mouth, and laughing hysterically when I pretend to bite them.  He's the funniest little guy.  I need to video tape his giggles soon because he has developed the best sense of humor and sensitivity to tickles.  Ah!