Jesus Has a Booty.

Well, I failed to get up an entry yesterday, and I'm smack in the middle of thirty six things even now.... I completed roughly a third of my admittedly over-ambitious list yesterday in preparation of George & Emmie coming this weekend to visit their son, my Beloved Mister (and me, too), but I did exercise, eat well, take an ever so brief nap and attend my first La Leche League meeting, so all's well that ends well. Aside from which, upon returning home LATE (too late to ring up my sister-in-law Stephanie to sing Happy Birthday to her), my Beloved Mister prepared me a late night supper of bacon and eggs. With toast. Mmm. AND serendaded me during the cooking with psychedelic tunes; he sang along to his long coveted and only recently purchased (sidewalk sale!) Nuggets box set. He used the cooking spray as his mic, and threw in a shake of the Mr. Booty, too. I dig him mightily, and love that booty shake. That, of course, makes me think of littlest niece, Haley, who several months ago after being reprimanded at preschool for talking about hind ends, announced to us all that Jesus has a booty. She likes to shake hers. As we all are wont to do and quite frankly, should do more often. Free the mind and the ass will follow! Lean or ample, a shake does a booty good. This Booty, too. I'd like to believe that a radical like Jesus had his mind and booty right in line, one with the other, a synchronized set....

In the meantime, my little fella, curled up like a butterbean, is giving Mama Booty Homemaker quite the shake from within. He likes, it seems, to dance. Should you care to play, dive into the baby pool and take your guess: http://www.expectnet.com/index.php -- Game name: OurZiggy. I'll come up with some super groovy prize for the winner. That's a promise. I swear upon my bodacious Booty self.