Fa-la-la-la...
Really, I have not felt so busy in a long time.
First, there was my birthday -- which was so long ago, it's almost not worth mentioning, except I did get a gift certificate from my oldest friend on Earth to Restaurant Eve, my favorite restaurant on same planet. And then, as if that wasn't good enough, a certain other somebody delivered a hand-knit pair of socks with appropriately named Three Irish Girls yarn. (All right, truth be told, the girls are mostly Italian. And that's why they stab each other with dagger eyes and then hug each other to the floor.)
Tonight, Margaret got her finger stuck inside her pacifier.
Then the babies got into a fight about something or other.
"Baby!" shouted Margaret.
"Noooo! Baby!" shouted Josephine.
"Mine!"
"Mine!"
"Eeeyeh!"
"Eeeeeeyeh!"
And then, after my birthday, I got a little obsessed with cookies. You know, because of the rat holes on our front yard, I have been convinced that our neighbors think we're... rat people. But we're not!
We're cookie people. The kind of nice, non-rodent-like, jolly neighbors that will invite you over on a Sunday afternoon for 10 varieties of cookies. To wit: pizzelles, chocolate hazelnut crinkles, honey-pecan snowballs, strawberry jam thumbprints, chocolate oat bars, cherry-hazelnut biscotti, coconut macaroons, cornmeal cranberry circles, Italian almond cookies with special candied cherries from King Arthur's Bakery, and cut-out sugar cookies hand-painted and sprinkled by the three little girls.
The chocolate-hazelnut crinkles were best, I think.
Then there's the Christmas shopping, which I can't believe I'm still doing!! What's wrong with me? Lucy and I have been writing -- and re-writing -- her Christmas list for weeks. It says, "Dear Santa, I need some presents. I have been good. Number one, trampoline."
I'm not getting her a trampoline. Years and years ago, I met a fat little boy in Florida who had fallen off a trampoline. He came home complaining of a headache, his parents took him to the hospital for X-rays, where they discovered an enormous brain tumor that eventually killed him. He was a fifth-grader at Bayshore Elementary. And no, the tumor had nothing to do with the trampoline, but I have a bad feeling about the whole thing.
She's getting a "jump-o-lene," which is inflatable, sits on the ground, and has 45-inch high walls.
Speaking of Santa, Lucy continues to get mail from Katie the Elf! She whirls around the kitchen when it arrives, grinning, "Katie the Elf!! She is so, so, so-so nice!" Katie the Elf sent her $5 today.
The other day, I asked Lucy if she wanted to try soccer this spring. She said, "No." I said, "Why not?" She said, "Too much work."
Meanwhile, I ran the Jingle Jog 10K yesterday -- 61 minutes, which is fabulous! (For me.) Mostly, the running has been fine. I found an old pair of tights last week, which I actually remember buying from The Limited in Georgetown Park in 1993. I thought, "Oh! How nice! They still fit!" But it turns out that 15 years exceeds the life span of waistband elastic, and they started falling down after the first block. Imagine running four miles while holding up your pants...
What else? Lucy passed her hearing test. Yay for Lucy! Josephine has reached the 5th percentile in weight. Did I already tell you all that? Yay for Josephine! And Margaret is Margaret. Bossier than ever. She pats the ground next to her and says, "Mommmmmy! DOWN!"
First, there was my birthday -- which was so long ago, it's almost not worth mentioning, except I did get a gift certificate from my oldest friend on Earth to Restaurant Eve, my favorite restaurant on same planet. And then, as if that wasn't good enough, a certain other somebody delivered a hand-knit pair of socks with appropriately named Three Irish Girls yarn. (All right, truth be told, the girls are mostly Italian. And that's why they stab each other with dagger eyes and then hug each other to the floor.)
Tonight, Margaret got her finger stuck inside her pacifier.
Then the babies got into a fight about something or other.
"Baby!" shouted Margaret.
"Noooo! Baby!" shouted Josephine.
"Mine!"
"Mine!"
"Eeeyeh!"
"Eeeeeeyeh!"
And then, after my birthday, I got a little obsessed with cookies. You know, because of the rat holes on our front yard, I have been convinced that our neighbors think we're... rat people. But we're not!
We're cookie people. The kind of nice, non-rodent-like, jolly neighbors that will invite you over on a Sunday afternoon for 10 varieties of cookies. To wit: pizzelles, chocolate hazelnut crinkles, honey-pecan snowballs, strawberry jam thumbprints, chocolate oat bars, cherry-hazelnut biscotti, coconut macaroons, cornmeal cranberry circles, Italian almond cookies with special candied cherries from King Arthur's Bakery, and cut-out sugar cookies hand-painted and sprinkled by the three little girls.
The chocolate-hazelnut crinkles were best, I think.
Then there's the Christmas shopping, which I can't believe I'm still doing!! What's wrong with me? Lucy and I have been writing -- and re-writing -- her Christmas list for weeks. It says, "Dear Santa, I need some presents. I have been good. Number one, trampoline."
I'm not getting her a trampoline. Years and years ago, I met a fat little boy in Florida who had fallen off a trampoline. He came home complaining of a headache, his parents took him to the hospital for X-rays, where they discovered an enormous brain tumor that eventually killed him. He was a fifth-grader at Bayshore Elementary. And no, the tumor had nothing to do with the trampoline, but I have a bad feeling about the whole thing.
She's getting a "jump-o-lene," which is inflatable, sits on the ground, and has 45-inch high walls.
Speaking of Santa, Lucy continues to get mail from Katie the Elf! She whirls around the kitchen when it arrives, grinning, "Katie the Elf!! She is so, so, so-so nice!" Katie the Elf sent her $5 today.
The other day, I asked Lucy if she wanted to try soccer this spring. She said, "No." I said, "Why not?" She said, "Too much work."
Meanwhile, I ran the Jingle Jog 10K yesterday -- 61 minutes, which is fabulous! (For me.) Mostly, the running has been fine. I found an old pair of tights last week, which I actually remember buying from The Limited in Georgetown Park in 1993. I thought, "Oh! How nice! They still fit!" But it turns out that 15 years exceeds the life span of waistband elastic, and they started falling down after the first block. Imagine running four miles while holding up your pants...
What else? Lucy passed her hearing test. Yay for Lucy! Josephine has reached the 5th percentile in weight. Did I already tell you all that? Yay for Josephine! And Margaret is Margaret. Bossier than ever. She pats the ground next to her and says, "Mommmmmy! DOWN!"
posted by Mary Ellen at
6:00 PM
3 Comments:
I predict Margaret will become a dog trainer. She's already got the down command in her repertoire.
Jane, from Florida
Wow, you HAVE been busy! We have that same jump-o-lene, but sadly, paid full price. The castle is a lot of fun. Belated happy birthday. :)
Jennifer
i'm almost positive i'm in love with you.
fathoms deep, as it would happen.
you alright with that? (please say yes.)
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home