For good or bad, I have been giving Snowdrop an after school snack of a pain au chocolat for a long long time. (I go to the bakery twice a week so yes, on some days, she does have to suffer the indignity of eating a day-old or even two-day-old bread product.) Perhaps I was influenced at one point by hearing that a tartine with nutella (bread with a chocolate-hazelnut spread) is a typical afternoon snack for a child across the ocean. Or, perhaps I liked the routine of going to a bakery.
She rarely finishes it. Ed or the cheepers revel in the remains. But this week, for whatever reason, she took only one bite, then tossed it aside. It was fresh, crisp and perfect. Nope. She didn't want it.
Okay, Snowdrop. But I'm inclined not to get this for you if you don't really want to eat it.
Never one to want to hurt my feelings, she pauses and tells me: I don't want it today. But I love the water you brought me, grandma. Thank you for the delicious cup of water!
It had been nearly half a year since I had a haircut. I wasn't in a rush. What for? Long, short -- does it matter? Well, it does. Older and long rarely go well together. Women who are well past retirement somehow do not look good to me with hair that spills into their lap. And though mine isn't quite of that length yet, I decided I had pushed the limits on length.
Take tons off! -- I tell the hair cut person.
She does. Oh! I didn't mean that much! Oh well. Hair does grow back. Thank goodness.
Ed calls right around breakfast today, so you could almost way I had his company for the morning meal. The sailors are going through the locks today. I'm not sure if that's exciting or boring. Probably a little of both.
It appears to me that the men are sailing and the women are cooking dinners and touring old lighthouses and small town museums on land. I tell him -- sounds pretty gendered. He answers -- it is. We are of that generation.
I ask if bugs bother you when you're out on the water. Ed says when the air is still, black flies come and land on you. They'd had to close the doors against them. Are there any other reasons I can add to why sailing seems so utterly miserable to me?
Lilies who refuse to stop blooming are my pals right now.
But so are the other flowers in my gardens.
It's true: everyone has days when life just seems a bit overwhelming.
One coping strategy: a pause at a cafe. A snack. Tea for grandma. A pen and paper for the little one. Ideas emerge. Life seems normal again.
In the morning I hack away at shrubs that came out of nowhere and grew to be six feet tall seemingly overnight.
In the afternoon, I ask Snowdrop -- which child (in your class) do you think is happy?
Me! -- she answers.
Evening. I am in love with leftovers. I haven't cooked since Sunday.
The light is flashing on the thermostat. I wonder what that means. The windows are open wide. The air is full of a beautiful summer night.
She rarely finishes it. Ed or the cheepers revel in the remains. But this week, for whatever reason, she took only one bite, then tossed it aside. It was fresh, crisp and perfect. Nope. She didn't want it.
Okay, Snowdrop. But I'm inclined not to get this for you if you don't really want to eat it.
Never one to want to hurt my feelings, she pauses and tells me: I don't want it today. But I love the water you brought me, grandma. Thank you for the delicious cup of water!
It had been nearly half a year since I had a haircut. I wasn't in a rush. What for? Long, short -- does it matter? Well, it does. Older and long rarely go well together. Women who are well past retirement somehow do not look good to me with hair that spills into their lap. And though mine isn't quite of that length yet, I decided I had pushed the limits on length.
Take tons off! -- I tell the hair cut person.
She does. Oh! I didn't mean that much! Oh well. Hair does grow back. Thank goodness.
Ed calls right around breakfast today, so you could almost way I had his company for the morning meal. The sailors are going through the locks today. I'm not sure if that's exciting or boring. Probably a little of both.
It appears to me that the men are sailing and the women are cooking dinners and touring old lighthouses and small town museums on land. I tell him -- sounds pretty gendered. He answers -- it is. We are of that generation.
I ask if bugs bother you when you're out on the water. Ed says when the air is still, black flies come and land on you. They'd had to close the doors against them. Are there any other reasons I can add to why sailing seems so utterly miserable to me?
Lilies who refuse to stop blooming are my pals right now.
But so are the other flowers in my gardens.
It's true: everyone has days when life just seems a bit overwhelming.
One coping strategy: a pause at a cafe. A snack. Tea for grandma. A pen and paper for the little one. Ideas emerge. Life seems normal again.
In the morning I hack away at shrubs that came out of nowhere and grew to be six feet tall seemingly overnight.
In the afternoon, I ask Snowdrop -- which child (in your class) do you think is happy?
Me! -- she answers.
Evening. I am in love with leftovers. I haven't cooked since Sunday.
The light is flashing on the thermostat. I wonder what that means. The windows are open wide. The air is full of a beautiful summer night.
