Filly Power

I was back to work for two days this week. Not my real job. Just working at Pimlico for Preakness. Honestly, this whole working thing is for the birds. It's way more fun staying home.

John's always entertained by the stories I bring home from Preakness. On Friday I am the trophy bitch, so I hand trophies over to relatively famous people. At least famous in the racing world. Last year I gave a trophy to some guy who was a child acting star - maybe from the Partridge Family? I have no idea who he was, but everyone was all ga-ga over him. Whatever. He was short. His filly ran a good race, though. This year I was in the winners circle with one of the NBC anchors who hosted the Preakness show on TV. I walked in on an interview with D. Wayne Lucas and with Bob Baffert. And I gave trophies to Larry Jones and Steve Assmussen (he trained the filly who won the Preakness on Saturday). Saturday I told the local news anchors we watch on TV that they couldn't come in to my tent. The Governor of Maryland was in my tent. There were 70 people in the Mine That Bird group in my tent, dressed in their best blue jeans and cowboy hats. In that same tent? Rick Porter (Delaware car dealership owner) dressed in a red jacket and a blue bow tie. I wandered past the tent where band members from the group "Buckcherry" were eating lunch. I did not, unfortunately, see ZZ Top. Bummer!

John and Dex had a good couple days together. John is now sympathizing with my frustration at Dexter's lack of napping, which makes him cranky and fussy (Dexter, not John. Although, maybe John, too). And the lack of time to get anything substantial done. Excellent. Now I won't feel like such a slacker when I get NOTHING done all day.

Two days of being away from the baby, pumping irregularly and not nursing, seems to have brought back another bout of mastitis. Fun! So at least part of my day tomorrow will be spent at the doctor getting a prescription, and at Wal-Mart filling it.

Mom and a naked boy do tummy time. Somehow, Mom can roll over, and Dexter still can't. At least not with any regularity.
Dexter the contortionist while eating. John spends much time fending off hands and feet that threaten to hit the bottle out of Dexter's mouth.