Hi, Friends! Sorry I’ve been MIA over the past month but so many wonderful things came at me at once that I sort of got sidetracked. Between all the travel (three places in four weeks), new experiences (I’ve taken up paper marbling), and Hope’s Flame activities (new wholesale account, new products, getting ready for the holiday rush), Dually Noted took a back seat. But now I’m back into my somewhat regular routine and ready to blog.

So let me start off with this observation: that little Matteo, as adorable as he his, is taking up way too much shelf space!

This Monday I was over at Lori’s place for our regular Micromovement Monday (MM) slumber party. I usually get to Lori’s house before she gets home from work and picking up Matteo at daycare…which means I’ve got run of the house for anywhere from 15 minutes to a half hour. In that amount of time, I drop off my overnight bag in “my room,” set up my work stuff in her front room (where our MM meetings go down), and sort of rummage through the kitchen for a snack and drink (in the adult beverage category, of course) before settling in on the couch and flipping through her magazines (it’s always nice to have a magazine whore as a friend).

So I cheerfully walk into Lori’s house fully expecting everything to go down as usual. But, as I would soon find out, nothing typical was going to happen this day.

My room was fine, getting set up and ready to work was fine, but trying to find a snack or a magazine was, well, downright catastrophic. I should have known something was terribly wrong when I noticed there was no bottle of wine (or other booze) on her counter like their usually is. But that didn’t faze me too much. There’s always my go-to drink at Lori’s: Crystal Light. If there’s none in the fridge already made, I know she keeps the mix in her pantry…next to a well stocked supply of my favorite snacks (crackers, pretzels, multi-grain chips of some sort).

So I head on over to her super-cool, walk-in pantry, open the doors, and BAM! Baby food EVERYWHERE. Jars of the stuff…no, make that boxes of jars…stacked high RIGHT WHERE MY SNACKS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE!! Forget the Crystal Light. What good is Crystal Light if you’ve got no savory treats? Seriously!

Oh how this does not make me happy. I try to keep calm as I frantically search the shelves for some sort of sign of adult food, anything remotely interesting for those of us with a full set of teeth (and two crowns). “Please God,” I start bargaining, “there’s got to be treats in here for me somewhere. Help me find them!” And then a bag of rice falls from a shelf.

I guess that’s what I get for being an atheist. Or for having a friend with a baby that is now eating food.

Defeated, and a little depressed (and hoping this isn’t a sign of how the rest of the night is going to go), I bring a glass of water and my empty stomach into Lori’s living room ready to move on to my next stage of indulgence…magazines.

But wait. What’s THIS?!! Oh, the horror!

Spread across the big-ass leather ottoman that also serves as her coffee table are the magazines. They are everywhere. Every single recent issue seems to be right there. Open. Chewed on. Ripped up. Caked in what I can only assume to be remnants of whatever was inside said jars of baby food that filled her pantry (thereby adding insult to injury). And now, not only are there no magazines for me read, there is no place for me to put up my feet. I’m not about to touch those nasty remains of once great casual reads. Not even with my feet. No way, Jose. Can anyone say, “baby germs”?!

“Okay,” I tell myself. “Just calm down. There’s always ice cream treats in the freezer.”

Well, by now, dear readers, I’m sure you  know what’s coming. To say there’s no room at the Freezer Inn for ice cream treats (and, by the way, where did the vodka go that was stored in there?) would be putting it mildly. It is packed with frozen meals. And after spending the evening with Lori, I can see why. She has no time to fuss over making dinners or lunches. Matteo is no longer at the stage of just sitting contently off to the side and taking it all in. As good of a baby he is, he’s definitely become more active and sucks up more of Lori’s time and attention. Hence, convenient and quick frozen meals.

So there I stand, freezer door open, shoulders slumped in conquered resignation, and I say aloud to no one in particular, “That sneaky little Matteo is taking over Lori’s house shelf by shelf. This. Is. War.”