It feels like we’ve been laying low, the last few days. Sure, we’re doing our regular things—school, work, shuffling the kids to and fro—but it all feels kind of… muted. Every morning I check the news; the perpetrator of last weekend’s tragedy is still at large, and swine flu is still scaring the crap out of everyone. [Though you sort of have to love today’s BIG STORY on CNN about “patient zero” in the epidemic, which includes this: “Five-year-old Edgar Hernandez credits ice cream for helping him feel better.” Awesome reporting, CNN! Getting the world the information they need, right when they need it. Because tonight is 39 cent scoop night at Baskin-Robbins, y’know. BRING YOUR MASK!]
Life goes on, and the minutiae of the day to day continues, and I feel a little melancholic about it all, but that could just be the swine flu. I’m not sure. Possibly I’ll have to get some ice cream, just to be on the safe side.
Random things from Planet Recently:
My name is Mir, and I have a planting addiction. My garden is spiraling out of control, and STILL I PLANT. I ordered a bunch of dwarf trees and some raspberry plants, too, just for good measure. As well as having just forced my husband to rig me a third planting box for the additional eight tomato plants I decided I needed (and started from seed; my pretty, precious baybees!) and just set out a couple of nights ago. Will we eat it all? I have no idea. All I know is that when I called Kira yesterday to see how she and her (actual) baby were holding up, I mentioned that I’ve been wondering if maybe I was a little overzealous with the zucchini plants. She asked how many I set and when I told her six she laughed so hard I was afraid she’d rupture something. Can I ship a box of zucchini to Colorado? I THINK WE’RE GONNA FIND OUT.
Nothing keeps you humble like baking. So I’ve been baking bread. Um, that is to say, I’ve been baking ALL of our bread. And feeling very pleased and smug with myself about it, too. And then I tried a new recipe that looked delicious and it just would not rise. And that batch yielded two bricks. So I changed some things and tried it again the next day, and that batch yielded two slightly larger bricks. Because, you know, I was starting to think of myself as a pretty decent baker, and clearly I needed a humility smackdown. (WHY, molasses oatmeal bread? Why won’t you work for me??)
Jack Sprat and his wife live at my house. Last night for dinner we had a delightful spread of various items, despite the fact that my daughter enjoys tormenting her father over the phone. “What are we having for dinner? Zucchini, I think. No, just zucchini.” (He was probably calling DFACS right after he hung up with her.) I made a delicious cucumber and tomato salad, full of cucumbers and tomatoes (duh) and also some sweet onion and some oregano from our herb box and some olive oil and some pomegranate red wine vinegar and feta cheese. It seemed just the thing for the warm weather we’ve been having. The children sit across from each other at the table and could not see one another’s plates because of the dishes of food in the center. I sat between them and watched as Monkey carefully ate all the tomatoes out of his salad and Chickadee picked out and ate all of the cucumbers in hers. Both of them chased their feta around the plate until every morsel larger than a molecule was consumed, and I was left wondering if I should’ve had a third child, one who only eats onions.
My name is Sneaky McSneakerpants, even though I’m not very good at it. Yesterday I had lunch with Natasha, which was lovely, and I filled her car up with various items we no longer need which she will hopefully sell for big bucks at her upcoming yard sale. I had enlisted the children’s help with some cleaning, a few days prior, and Chickadee was loathe to give up her (giant, plastic) dollhouse even though she hasn’t played with it in a very long time. I coaxed and cajoled and pointed out that she’d have more room without it, and she got teary and insisted she loved it best of anything in the world (of course), and finally before bed she turned to me and said, “I’ll make you a deal. You can get rid of the dollhouse if you keep your wedding dress for me.” I thought about it for a second and told her that was fine, we would send the dress to Grandma and Grandpa’s house, but they would keep it for her until she was older, and she was happy and went to sleep. I gave Natasha the dollhouse (and a bunch of other crap). Yesterday when the kids got home from school and the pile of “to the yard sale” stuff was gone, Chickadee asked me if I’d already decided to keep the dress before she offered me the deal. I did not feel so suave, and admitted that Grandma had been kind enough to offer this solution a week earlier, and yes, I’d pretty much already decided. Whoops.
Doctor, doctor—I have a mystery pain in my foot! It started last night, and this morning I still have a very sore spot kind of next to the ball of my left foot, in that deep spot on the underside that’s just a few inches below the second toe. I don’t think I stepped on anything or whacked it in any way. But it’s killing me. I think it’s swine flu. Someone get me some ice cream, STAT!