Poor K has been throwing up for two out of the last four days. She threw up on Thursday night, seemed absolutely fine on Friday if perhaps a little low on appetite, then Saturday morning demanded an egg for breakfast and promptly returned it. Today has been puke free but not symptom free, if you get my gist.
Poor puny baby. On the plus side, she has now mastered the technique of throwing up into a receptacle instead of all over her bed/clothes/parents/cats. Mostly.
I hadn't planned on watching the Oscars this year. I've seen maybe two of the movies and the host wasn't a particular draw. But I decided to tune in for a few minutes and managed to get sucked in by Hugh Jackman singing and dancing. I have to admit, as much as I've enjoyed some of the various comedians who've hosted the years, someone who can sing and dance and do the sort of overblown spectacle that suits Oscar so well was a good choice.
The only movie we've actually seen recently that definitely won't be seeing an Oscar any time soon was Inkheart. I read the book several years ago and wish a bit that I had had the opportunity to at least skim it again before we saw the movie. I know the movie deviated from the book and I don't think the choices they made were inappropriate, but trying to remember how it deviated kept niggling at me the entire time. Anyway, it was a decent movie with good special effects and cute animals that weren't entirely obnoxious. I admit, I've had a bit of a thing for Brendan Fraser since The Mummy. He has such an ability to turn mediocre movies into somewhat enjoyable movies (although I refuse to test this theory out on Encino Man, no matter how cute Brendan Fraser is). For instance, we watched Journey to the Center of the Earth a couple months ago, and it was, well, pretty awful actually. But Brendan Fraser made it enjoyable enough for me to recommend it to my brother.