Baby Clothes

I was babysitting for my cousin today and naturally, after lunch, her 1 and a half year old baby needed a whole new outfit. Maybe for an experienced mother it would have taken about 10 minutes to get him dressed, but for me, it took about 30. I guess my question here is, why must some baby clothes be so difficult? I feel like this particular outfit was designed by someone who really wanted to piss off babysitters. It had like 80 buttons, and not the kind that just look like they are buttons but are actually snaps and really easy. Also, it was a one-sy with pants and sleeves, and not stretchy material, and it is not like a baby is going to help get itself dressed, but rather is going to squirm around and make it as difficult as possible. My idea- babies should only wear those really easy -to-get-on pants and shirts, and not things designed by rocket scientists.

I'm in An Empire State of Mind

I admit it, I hate to sound cliche, but I <3 NY.
There, I said it. There might be unpleasant smells akin to Indian food wrapped in a used diaper eminating out of the grates on the street, there might be hundreds of thousands of people cramming into way too small of a space and drivers and pedestrians with a complete disregard for any sort of traffic laws, but aren't these things part of the charm? As we drove away, I couldn't help but miss that dear, sexy tease of a city who had officially claimed another to add to her millions of lovers around the world. I now have a crush on her just like I would on a person- I felt super nervous and giddy in her presence.

I got to NYC and felt star-struck immediately- I was looking at the biggest celebrity of my life; the city herself. My cousin and I saw Central Park, Madison Square, Times Square, the Empire State Building, the new World Trade Center and of course, Lady Liberty. We had really good pizza for only 1$ a slice, which ended up being the even remotely resonably-priced thing we purchased the whole trip.

If anyone want my recommendation about bars in NYC, I will tell you, and you will read it even if you don't want to know. Skip the fancy, ritzy places where the snobs hang out and check your ID twice because they REALLY do not belive that you are 21. Which reminds me of another story from a couple days ago where someone did not believe that I was 21, but that is for another time, so someone needs to remind me to tell that later. Anyways, definitely go to the smaller, more quaint bars on the side-streets. In our case, it was Playwright, which was a little Irish bar with a VERY Irish bartender. I ended up meeting someone who was born in the same hospital as me. How presh.

I am back in DC now, the city that gets a solid 8 hours of sleep a night. It is much cleaner, but I will dream about my new love, NYC, tonight.