Dooce Indeed!

Dude.  I LOVE Dooce! (Obv.)

This is a revelation!  Something we actually have in common!!  I never thought you'd be interested in a blog about a mom and her kid and her husband - alas, Sue, to hear that you are a fellow admirer of Heather B. Armstrong has warmed my heart.

And, I mean, could her daughter Leta be any more adorable?  Wait - don't answer that unless you are currently in a pro-baby phase.  You switch between pro-baby and anti-spawn so fast I can never keep track.  It was rhetorical anyway because the answer is NO, that kid could not be any more gorgeous.  I love how Heather B. Armstrong (sounds so professional, eh? Makes me wish I had a middle initial... or a maiden name) quotes conversations she's had with Leta.  But my favorite thing about Dooce is how Heather writes a letter to Leta every month.  Totally inspiring and heartwarming.  To those of us with active biological clocks, anyway.

Which brings me to my next point!  Just in case you thought I was joking about strolling for strollers in No.Hill... I took this photo with my iPhone a few hours ago:

Yes, that says "the pram shop."  Have I made you lose your lunch?

Lots of love to the lunch-lost lady,

Jen

Dooce this.

Dear Jen,

I think I officially know what your (our?) goal should be in life after you stop being a DomestiGal of Leisure and complete your MBA. To be, as Heather B. Armstrong writes in her blog Dooce, a "Stay at Home Mom (SAHM) or a Shit Ass Ho Motherfucker." Think I'm joking? Check her out at Dooce where her mission statement is "Talking a lot about poop, boobs, her dog, and her daughter. Dooced: to lose one’s job because of one’s website."

I mean, Domestic Goddess, seriously.

• You're beyond obsessed with vacuums, you kind of have me wondering what you're actually doing with that hose all day long. (I can't believe that you and The Lawyer are so messy that you have to vacuum every day.)

• You actually had a good time with teenage girls (that are not your own) this past week. That's just freakish.

If I get one more behind-the-blog-scenes email from you about your bridal woes, I might have to go all Taiwanese ape-shit on you and travel to London to lovingly do the following:





With great affection,

Sue the Sane