monday rambling and boys who climb
I went to the Pulse this morning where Rachel tried to kill me. Haha! Just kidding. If it weren't for her, I would be a weakling. She worked my body hard and now I'm writing on my blog to exercise my mind.
I talked to an artist friend of mine one day and she said she writes in a morning notebook every day. Sometimes draws in the notebook. My blog is like that. I have no theme but I wander from subject to subject, documenting holidays, archiving recipes, ranting about this and that, planning my days, thinking on paper.
Regis and I had a funny thought this morning. We thought we should turn on Fox news at the fitness center and then rant loudly about our liberal political views. Boo. Hiss. How rude would that be?
Tiffany and Elliot came over yesterday mid-afternoon. We made Snickerdoodles and chicken wings then Elliot and I walked to the park by the swimming pool. You can't ever plan to get somewhere quickly with a three-year old because they are delighted by every flower, every bug, every dog, every person. He loved to roll in the grass and run circles around the trees. I had to explain quietly that some people have big dogs who poop and pee in the grass...not good to roll in that. How does it happen that we lose that absolute delight in everything we see?
Elliot taught me how to walk like a penguin. He would laugh out loud and shout, "Happy feet, Nana!"
We made it to the park eventually where I discovered that he loves to climb and he's fast. At one point, I was afraid he was going to get higher than I could reach and we would be stuck there...Elliot afraid to come down and me afraid to go up...and me with no phone.
Peter was a good climber, too, and sometimes I would look out the window of our split level home to see him perched in a tree, looking in. It terrified his Grandma Edna but I gave up after a while. I couldn't follow him around every second. So nice when they get a little older and have a little more common sense.
I'm reading a biography of Julia Child. Every year, she and her husband Paul, made Valentines to send their friends. This is the one they made in the 1956 at the height of the Joe McCarthy bull crap. What a hoot. Don't you love it? I wonder who took the photo, now that I think about it.
If you don't know much about her life, it would be worth it to do some reading. Here's an article in Vanity Fair and this is the book I'm reading.
I highly recommend it. It tells the story of the development of the first book on French cooking but also tells the story of her life and her life with her husband. Great story.
My friend, Jill, commented on the blog yesterday that I was better off in the front of the bus. I should correct that perception if anyone else is laboring beneath it. (Can you labor beneath a perception? I know you can be under an impression.) I might have had a partial seat in the front of the bus but I spent a fair share of time in the back of the bus. I know where the fun is happening! Ha! I didn't want anyone to think I changed my stripes.
Regis is home now and it's looking like I am going to have to be productive today. Here I go.
I talked to an artist friend of mine one day and she said she writes in a morning notebook every day. Sometimes draws in the notebook. My blog is like that. I have no theme but I wander from subject to subject, documenting holidays, archiving recipes, ranting about this and that, planning my days, thinking on paper.
Regis and I had a funny thought this morning. We thought we should turn on Fox news at the fitness center and then rant loudly about our liberal political views. Boo. Hiss. How rude would that be?
Tiffany and Elliot came over yesterday mid-afternoon. We made Snickerdoodles and chicken wings then Elliot and I walked to the park by the swimming pool. You can't ever plan to get somewhere quickly with a three-year old because they are delighted by every flower, every bug, every dog, every person. He loved to roll in the grass and run circles around the trees. I had to explain quietly that some people have big dogs who poop and pee in the grass...not good to roll in that. How does it happen that we lose that absolute delight in everything we see?
Elliot taught me how to walk like a penguin. He would laugh out loud and shout, "Happy feet, Nana!"
We made it to the park eventually where I discovered that he loves to climb and he's fast. At one point, I was afraid he was going to get higher than I could reach and we would be stuck there...Elliot afraid to come down and me afraid to go up...and me with no phone.
Peter was a good climber, too, and sometimes I would look out the window of our split level home to see him perched in a tree, looking in. It terrified his Grandma Edna but I gave up after a while. I couldn't follow him around every second. So nice when they get a little older and have a little more common sense.
I'm reading a biography of Julia Child. Every year, she and her husband Paul, made Valentines to send their friends. This is the one they made in the 1956 at the height of the Joe McCarthy bull crap. What a hoot. Don't you love it? I wonder who took the photo, now that I think about it.
If you don't know much about her life, it would be worth it to do some reading. Here's an article in Vanity Fair and this is the book I'm reading.
I highly recommend it. It tells the story of the development of the first book on French cooking but also tells the story of her life and her life with her husband. Great story.
My friend, Jill, commented on the blog yesterday that I was better off in the front of the bus. I should correct that perception if anyone else is laboring beneath it. (Can you labor beneath a perception? I know you can be under an impression.) I might have had a partial seat in the front of the bus but I spent a fair share of time in the back of the bus. I know where the fun is happening! Ha! I didn't want anyone to think I changed my stripes.
Regis is home now and it's looking like I am going to have to be productive today. Here I go.
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