Forward motion achieved

Abbey figured out how to scoot, after many weeks of trying really hard. Not long after this video was taken, she scooted across the living room area rug to pet Mollie. Video on that to come later.

Trying to eat!

She rocks, she rolls

My daughter thinks I rock

I've never been a singer. Ask anyone in my family, they've all be subjected to years and years of out-of-tune warbling on car trips. I'm OK with that. I enjoy singing loudly (and alone) to the radio in my car or at home, as everyone should.
But recently, my singing has attracted a fan. My one and only fan, but I couldn't ask for anything more. Granted, she's only 3.5 months old, so her musical tastes aren't the most refined. But what she lacks in size and experience, she more than makes up for in enthusiasm.
When I'm putting her to bed at night, I cradle her and sing the classics. You know, Fleetwood Mac, the Eagles, Tom Petty, the Beatles, Don McLean.
When I sing to her, she holds my gaze and smiles, all dimples popping and laughs like I'm the best thing since, well, breast milk I guess.
I will never win a Grammy, but that's OK. I've got something better -- an adoring audience of one.

Politics -- gag me with a spoon

I'm so sick of every person elected an office that I could scream. But I'm even more sick of all those blithering idiots out there who proclaim THEIR chosen candidate or party is right, yours is wrong and obviously destroying our country!
Guess what people: They ALL suck. Gone are the days of Washington, Jefferson, Franklin and Adams. There are no statesmen anymore, just used car salesmen with good speech writers. (Disclaimer: No offense to the good car salesmen of the world, I'm sure there are a few of you.)
No matter who you think is destroying this nation (Is it Obama and Pelosi? The Republican minority in Congress? Which side do you fall on?), the fault is entirely ours. We the People have allowed this union to become less perfect, not more. We allow politicians to sway us with beautiful oratory or a twangy southern drawl. We spout taglines like "Yes, we can" and "Change you can believe in" rather than becoming informed. Informed doesn't mean watching Fox News or CNN. Informed means not only knowing what's on a candidates platform but also taking the time to find out what he's done to support what those stances (How did this person vote on XX bill? Was he/she consistent or did they later cave to special interest group power or make a deal to get big bucks for come cockamamie project in their state in exchange for a vote on a bill they said previously they would never, ever vote for?)
Most important, however, is NEVER BUY INTO THE HYPE! For crying out loud, stop being so damn gullible. I hate to get all X-Files on everyone, but TRUST NO ONE (in politics). This goes for every side.
And please, stop listening to talk show hosts. Rush Limbaugh and everyone like him, on the conservative and liberal sides, are on the air solely to make money and entertain. Their jobs are NOT to inform the public. Why? Because that's not good television (or radio, whichever).
Ok, that's the end of my rant. Peace out.

Baby, I'm back

OK folks, let's try this again. Life is a little crazy, but I occasionally still have some thoughts I'd like to put down in writing, if only (as usual) for my own amusement. I know I've been away for a while, but I was busy making a family, damnit! Surely that's a decent enough excuse. (Don't worry, Dad, I can hear your response already -- "No it isn't, and don't call me Shirly!")
Now, now, now. Where to start? So many things to discuss, and so little time before I get too far into the sacramental wine.
I guess at least a brief update is a good place. On October 10, I got hitched. I walked down the aisle in all my 9-months-pregnant glory and married the first boy I ever kissed. My dogger, Mollie, was our ring bearer. My husband, brother and nephew wore kilts, like real men should. We had chicken fried steak, cause hey, didn't I mention I was 9 months pregnant? My dad, looking all handsome-fied in his suit, walked me down the aisle. And then we partied it up good, all in my backyard, which my amazing friends and family scrubbed down earlier that morning after days and days of rain had left it a muddy mess. My mother, crazy woman that she is, nearly killed herself turning the yard into a Fall Wonderland. It was the best wedding I've ever had the pleasure of attending, with a very close second best being my brother's wedding in October the year before. We Denby kids sure like that month, apparently. I attribute this to years of brainwashing from mom. (I kid, I kid....except not really, she loves all things fall.)
Seventeen days after the Big Day came the Even Bigger Day. On October 27, the most beautiful baby girl ever made got served her eviction notice (aka I was induced). Abigail Ruth was born at 7:14 p.m., weighing in at 7 pounds, 11 ounces and measuring 18.5 inches long -- and sporting a full head of dark hair and the cutest damn dimples ever put on a face. I'm not biased people, I'm stating facts. Trust me, I've done the research (and by research, I mean I said to my mom, "Doesn't she have the cutest damn dimples?" To which mom replied, "Of course!").
Not to get too mushy, but she's the absolute light of my life. Our little monkey girl (her nickname, "the monkey" is derived from the fact that she has monkey toes -- they're nearly as long as her fingers, I swear), is at the moment I write this chilling with Nana and Poppa for the night, hence why I'm distracting myself with bloggifying (and wine).
So where is this all going? It's going to bed...cause I'm exhausted! Tomorrow, I'm going to attempt to put together some even more coherent ramblings. Over and out.

Growing up or growing old?

As some may know (some being the two people who read this), I turned 26 on Nov. 14. Sure, this could be a time for reflection. Previous birthdays, I've spent time thinking of all the things I miss — people I haven't seen, places I want to return to, the fun I used to have as a kid — and how it all seemed to be slipping away with time.

Each year since turning 19 basically (except for 21. I don't remember much, but I remember that one was fun), I've tried to ignore my birthday...minus the receipt of presents (which reminds me....Kristopher, where's my damn birthday present?) and on more than one occasion have announced to friends that I would celebrate my birthday by hiding in a closet. With a bottle of whiskey. And a straw. (The last one was when I lived in Waco, and anyone who has lived in Waco should know that easy access to whiskey is necessary to continue day-to-day operations). I never actually did the whole "hide in my closet" thing, but I always wanted to.

This year, however, was an entirely different beast. This year, I did not look back. I did not look forward. I looked at...the present (DUM DUM DUMMMMMM!)

Currently, I live about 25 miles from the beach. Close enough that my friends and I can take our dogs down there to romp for a while and come home and not have taken a significant chunk out of a day. I have a job that, aside from a few occasional stressful nights, I really enjoy and actually like to be there most of the time. I live less than 30 minutes away from three of my best and oldest friends, whom I've seen more in the past 7 months of living here than I did the past 7 years combined. In a month and a half, I'm moving in with my boyfriend, which is itself a huge step in growing up and getting over years and years of commitment issues, and I couldn't be more excited about it. Speaking of The Man, I've actually found someone who is a perfect fit for me in every way I can think of. I wake up happy on a regular basis. I love him more every day and am unceasingly amazed at how well he deals with me and my crazy. I now have stopped thinking my parents are freaks of nature for having been happily in love for 33 years.

My dog (who we have decided now is "our" dog) now has two kitty sisters (they were his, now are "ours") to alternately torture and play with. So they're just like real siblings, basically. Where previously I thought I had neuroses, now I've found that I'm just "Kim," and that it's ok to be me.

I'm actually starting to get a handle on this whole "finances" thing — with help from my very patient and kind mom. She has yet to give up on me in this area, and I love her for trying to help me sort it out and for actually seeing when I make progress. 

Last month, I was witness to a beautiful wedding. My brother married the most wonderful woman I've ever met (not to mention so beautiful you kinda wish you could hate her except she's so sweet it's impossible to).

At the wedding, I got to see my family. My entire family. The Denbys, the Templetons, the Dantones, the Waxlers and the Dallmeyers were all assembled in one spot. The love was palpable. I don't know that I've ever felt so safe and welcome in one spot before. Everywhere I turned was a familiar face, someone to hug and share memories with. There was great food, good music, very nice wine (thanks Dad!) and laughter at every table. And I danced with my dad for the first time ever. It was a very special moment for me, even though I know he wished I would pick a shorter song (I can't help it, when I think "El Paso," I think of dad). I cried pretty much throughout the whole ceremony and definitely the entire time my brother and his compatriots (known as "Flesh Wound") performed "Falling Slowly" for Kelley. And I was OK with crying in public. Somebody had to do it, I figure.

Even family members who are gone now were there that night, in one way or another. You could find hints of them in a smile, hear their laughter, see them in a familiar walk. 

My brilliant nephew will turn 14 next month, and it amazes me every time I see him. I've watched him grow up — in fact I've grown up with him. He's a beautiful kid, and I feel honored to be a part of his life. I'm a little sad that he's grown up sooo fast, but it's been fun and in a lot of ways, I had a bigger part in his life because of all the years I lived with my brother and got to spend more time with him than many aunts/uncles might. So while I do feel a little sad, I mostly feel happy to have been able to see all of the changes of life he's gone through in 14 years and look forward to being part of the next 14. Also, now he's well past the phase of telling me "girls are gross" every time I try to hug him, so that's cool too.

This has gone on longer than I really intended, but in reflecting on not reflecting, I seem to have found quite a bit to reflect on. And despite the fact that I did grow older, what really seems to have happened is I've grown up — even if just a little bit. And I actually liked it.

Cheers.