foccacia pizza

Antique Children’s Book, Part 1: Kitty, Polly Parrot, and Cubby Bear

We’re taking a break from Nerdy Mom for today, to introduce you to the Antique Children’s Book my parents found among their inherited things. It is surmised to be a book that belonged to my mom’s dad when he was a child, so it’s getting on towards a hundred years old. And it’s more than a hundred percent bizarre.

This is the title: Animal Cutes.

antique children's animal book
Animal Cutes, for the animal at heart.

They can’t say “Cute Animals” because I’m afraid these animals just are not. That’s in spite of the eye roll I’m sure this kitty thought would be enchanting, along with its darling checkered jacket and blue bow. Then again, perhaps that bow is just tied way too tight, and this is actually a portrait of asphyxiation. Kinda like flowery children’s songs that are actually about the plague.

antique children's animal book parrot
Pretty Polly PARROT, perched at rest, Says “Hurry up and bring me my breakfast.”

This parrot looks jolly Scottish in the tam-o’-shanter and vest, but as above, I’m not sure “pretty” is in the cards for Polly. “Haggard” and “oppressed” come to mind more easily. She’s out of her cage but still chained to her perch, waiting for the right moment to snap that chain with her beak and make her getaway. “Breakfast” is the code word. It’s too bad she was ill-advised on the outfit, since Scots parrots are incongruous in any crowd.

antique children's book cubby bear
Cubby BEAR, all dressed in colors gay, Goes to Cubtown, in the woods, to play.

Okay, maybe Cubby is kinda cute. Those cheerful honeybee stripes… the festive tambourine… The look that says, “Bye, Mom! I’m off to the woods, nothing but gaily gadding about!” Mama Bear thinks it’s a picnic. Little does she know that Cubtown is a cult, and they’ve just set the forest on fire. And you don’t want to know what they do with those tambourines.

Turns out I’m still nerdy. Whadaya know. NaBloPoMo Day 7, signing off.

***


 

Related Posts:

foccacia pizza

5-Day Artist Challenge Postponed Due to Hogwarts Sorting Incident

My dear dance friend Mary nominated me, well over a year ago, for the 5-Day Artist Challenge on Facebook, in which you post a photo or so every day for five days, along with some interesting information or anecdote, to share with others the role of art in your life.

I did not manage to do this at that time, despite my best intentions. I forget what silly thing sidetracked me.

Because really, what’s more important than art? Art is bread for the soul – EVERY kind of bread: the white, the brown, the seedy, the fluffy, the cheesy, the crusty, the glutinous AND the gluten-free. I profoundly believe that we all need art to live.

This post was supposed to be Day 1. But I just have to tell you something before I start. I’m reeling a little, for two reasons that have nothing to do with the title of this piece.

Firstly, my beloved MacBook just came back from the shop. It had a several-days-long medical episode in which it was only sometimes taking a charge, and then it stopped charging altogether (!!) and went deep into computer-sleep. And then the good lad at the repair shop (their designated “Mac guy”) made it work again.

Everything seems back to beautiful normal in laptop-land… except that at least two almost-finished blog post drafts are GONE. Including a lengthy comparison of Stratford and Niagara-on-the-Lake as weekend getaway options. Disappeared! Except for this one partial title: “5-” Which frankly I could have managed to remember anyway.

Skye: I swear that this is true.

So that’s a bit traumatic. But EVEN WORSE.

My second shock has to do with Harry Potter. As you know, I am a Level 5 Harry Potter Fan with a tendency to geek out on the subject, sometimes at the expense of a small child. I just finished reading the entire series to one-and-a-half of my children (i.e., my 7-year-old listened avidly to every word, and my almost-4-year-old was asleep for at least half of it). It took us many months, and although I know there are those who would judge me for reading all seven books to such young’uns (believe me, I did not take the exposure lightly – I did fret about certain themes, and very occasionally edited small things out), my kids were great about it. They loved it, and I loved it. (So much that I did voices – WITH accents.)

Such an amazing story. It just gets better with every reading. The kids were almost never scared, and E took everything in stride. When we finished the series, he immediately asked, “Can we start at the beginning and read it again?” And to be honest, it’s been handy being able to refer to HP when questions come up about difficult things (war, politics, love, death, bullying, etc.).

I also, of course, bought The Cursed Child and read it (to myself only) after we finished The Deathly Hallows. (I haven’t told E we own it, otherwise he’d insist on hearing it, and I just don’t fancy reading a play aloud to him.)

harry-potter-cursed-child

And I enjoyed it, especially the quirkiness of the new characters, although it felt very weird to read it as a play, and without Rowling’s unique voice. I’ll have to mull over and re-read to know how I really feel about it.

But anyway. Back to my trauma. My identity crisis.

I mentioned in my geek-out that I’d been sorted into Ravenclaw a couple of times, but that was years ago and I don’t even remember how. Then I became a member of the beta version of Pottermore, where they have an actual genuine virtual Sorting Hat, and I was sorted into Hufflepuff. When you become a Hufflepuff, you learn all the things that make Hufflepuff life so great, and I really did relate to it, and embraced the identity.

Then, just recently, after I started reading HP to the kids, I got curious to see if I’d changed over the years, and did another test on gotoquiz.com – the one with “all possible questions” – and it sorted me into… Gryffindor. That was a shock to me – not unwelcome, exactly, but startling to say the least. Was it possible that I’d gotten braver with age? But I said to myself, this is not Pottermore. The only way to know FOR SURE is to get re-sorted on Pottermore, because it’s the real deal.

I finally did that today, with my newly happy laptop, doing my best to consider each answer carefully and honestly. Because this is crucial. And what did I get?? Effing Slytherin. I still can’t believe it. Seriously, friends, is there ANYTHING dark about me?? Other than the fact that I do actually rather like snakes… What am I missing? Where did I take this turn?? (It’s probably The Cursed Child‘s fault, come to think of it. It’s trying to teach me a lesson.)

If you ever see me sacrificing my friendships for the sake of my ambition, just smack me, please.

Because this is an emergency, just to keep me from tossing and turning all night, I just did the “shockingly accurate” Buzzfeed quiz for hybrid houses. Good ol’ Buzzfeed. Now I can go to bed. Not sure I can ever go to Pottermore again, though.

huffleclaw hogwarts sorting test
Does this seem more Dilovelyish?

***


 

Related Posts:

foccacia pizza

100 Happy Days – Day 38: Cozy

My Hubbibi has had his machine line at work shut down over Christmas – four weeks of shutdown, in fact.

This is financially tricky, of course, but there’s something awesome about being able to leave for work knowing your two-year-old is snuggling with her Daddy and a good book. (Going on a Bear Hunt.)

Wearing a Sheriff Woody poncho towel also increases coziness.
Wearing a Sheriff Woody poncho towel also increases coziness.

***


 

[ad name=”Med Rec”]

***

Related Posts:

foccacia pizza

Remembering What We’re Built To Do

sunshine through the trees
Image from http://www.ForestWander.com

When I was 18, a boy at Camp wrote a poem for me. Although I didn’t requite his crush, I still consider his poem one of the most romantic things I’ve ever received, because of its candour. The second line was “She’s just like sunshine through the trees,” and to this day I still feel kinda thrilled about that. Sunshine through the trees is one of my favourite things in the whole world.

A while back, I heard on CBC about a study showing that spending time in green space improves our mental health. Apparently, being in the presence of leafy trees actually makes us happier.

I think most of us can vouch for this. At the end of a long, white winter, I’m sure I am not alone in feeling an almost physical thirst for those luscious green leaves. It’s nice to get this confirmation: we are built to feel that way.

Family Camp at NeeKauNis last month was full of reminders of the things we are built to do and enjoy.

Here we are, in the age of modern medicine, where Westerners rarely worry about diseases that used to kill us in great numbers – smallpox and tuberculosis, for example – and we’ve handily encouraged a phalanx of new maladies all by ourselves.

We eat packaged food so far removed from its sources that we don’t even recognize the ingredients; then we wonder why we have troubles with our various organs and our energy levels.

We’ve surrounded ourselves with harmful chemicals in our food, clothes, grass, household products, and everything plastic; then we are devastated when opportunistic cancers have a field day.

We spend hours a day sitting, hunched over some screen or other, often sacrificing sleep for addictive overstimulation; then we realize – too late, sometimes – that our heart or lungs or joints or brains don’t work properly anymore.

We live in our container-homes, put in our earbuds so no live people can distract us, and avoid eye contact with the humans who serve us coffee or check out our groceries; then we shake our heads at the rise of prescription anti-depressant use.

I’m not speaking in self-righteousness. I do most of these things too. I’m not condemning modern medicine either, or technology in general. I really appreciate the benefits of ultra-portable computers, affordable antibiotics, high-speed transportation, laparoscopic surgery, and the wondrous capacity of the internet. I like Cheetos and Toaster Strudel, I watch TV on Netflix, I love Facebook, and as I’ve mentioned, I am very grateful for the existence of prescription anti-depressants.

But when I’m in a restaurant and see a family of four at the next table, not speaking, each absorbed in a separate hand-held device, my husband and I look at each other and quietly vow: That will never be us.

And at Family Camp, I remember that when those contemporary facets of life drop away for a few days, it does good to every layer of our selves.

It helps that there are children of all ages there. They’re all over the things that humans are meant to do. Just watching and listening to them is therapy.

built for 3

Children run and jump and climb and slide. They laugh their heads off, and cry hard when they need to. They sing and dance with joy. They build and knock down. They splash and spin. They scrunch their fingers and toes in the sand. They get dirty with real dirt. They want stories, hugs, their own little space, and their own accomplishments.

I want those things, too.

When I think about what really, actually makes me feel good, it’s mostly simple things. The things I’m built to do. The same things humans have been doing for centuries – or longer.

Dancing until I am out of breath.

Cooking for someone I love.

Making art.

Getting lost in a great book.

built for 2

Sitting in dappled shade. (Sunshine through the trees.)

Hugging.

Plunging into cool water on a hot day.

built for 4

Sipping a hot drink on a cold day.

Listening to music I love – or better yet, making some.

Hearing breezes, birds, crickets, rivers, waves.

Writing.

Looking closely at something beautiful.

built for 6

Reading to my kids.

Going to bed when I’m really tired.

built for 5

Walking in fresh air.

Laughing.

Eating something truly delicious.

built for 1

Sharing thoughts and feelings with a friend.

Doing a job well.

Having an adventure.

I know, they read like clichés, worthy of a curlicued garden tile. But there are reasons the inspirational-message market is so successful. Mostly, it’s because

1) It really IS good for us to dance as if nobody’s watching, sing like nobody’s listening, etc., because we’re built to.

And

2) We busy humans are remarkably good at forgetting the value of those seemingly easy things.

It’s so easy to get caught up in the thousand little jobs you have to do on a daily basis. I could easily spend all of every day doing small, necessary, basically mindless tasks. Which is not satisfying at all.

For me, I know, I need to think of those good-for-my-soul things as medicine. Taking my medicine is my responsibility, something I must do for my health. And in order to take it, I have to notice it. I have to be truly mindful and present.

That way, any time I can grab a bit of dappled shade or kid snuggles or good conversation, they will heal what ails me.

What precious things are you built to do?

***


 

Related Posts:

foccacia pizza

A Story About Today

Okay. This story is not actually about today.

Last Friday, my mother-in-law – one of the most generous people I know – came to babysit, and got more than she bargained for. She came on the arranged day, even though she knew that Baby AB had woken up with a stomach bug of some kind and had already puked three times by the time I called her.

Poor E also had a cough that sounded like a beer bottle barking (that would make sense if you’d heard it, I swear), and I didn’t know how I was going to get him to school with a puking baby anyway… so he stayed home too.

I was stressed when I left for work, having spent most of the morning doing laundry and disinfecting various parts of the house that might have been touched by puke.

When I came home, I was relieved to find that AB had napped, woken up happy, and then eaten a snack and kept it down! (Stomach bugs give me total anxiety, no matter who has them.)

Also, during said nap, E and Grandma J had made a book together, entitled “Today.” The original is about 4 x 5 cm, written by Grandma J and illustrated by E. It goes like this:

photo 1
Today A(****) got sick. She started throwing up.
photo 2
Today I’m going to blow bubbles
IMG_5324
and have a bike ride.
IMG_5325
I stayed home from school today.
IMG_5326
We might decorate our Christmas tree today.
IMG_5327
Grandma and I had fun!

The end.

It’s so sweet and sad that he thought he might bike ride and blow bubbles – total summer activities. The picture of Baby AB throwing up made me laugh the hardest, though – especially because I fretted about it so much while it was happening.

Since the book was produced, we had a relatively un-sick weekend – and then E and Daddy have both had some stomach troubles since then. Go figure. I hope I’m not next (GO teacher immunity GO!!).

And that about sums it up.

***


 

Related Posts:

foccacia pizza

BANG Book Review: 9-Volume Bookstravaganza!

{Tra la, this post was supposed to be finished and posted OVER A WEEK AGO. Ridonculous. Had several rough nights with congested baby, also working on E methodically testing every boundary he can think of, especially the one where he tries to get us to do his bidding by being a whine-meister. Boo, excuses.}

Sooo… You may or may not have noticed that I haven’t posted any GGG book club reviews for a while. I got behind by a few, and then they just piled right up. You know, like books.

Ergo, I’m going to catch myself up, shorterness style: Four Bullets Only Per Book. !!! ONLY.

1. One Day, by David Nicholls.

One-Day-David-Nicholls

  • A love story in which we follow the relationship of our protagonists for one day per year (St. Swithin’s Day) for twenty years. A neat idea, though it makes for a (deliberately) disjointed story.
  • Very readable, smart, interesting, but if you’re expecting a light, fun summer read, look elsewhere. This book has quite a bit of sad/depressing/frustrating stuff along with the romance.
  • It’s set in the U.K., written by an English author, and therefore contains cute words you don’t read in North American books. I enjoy them generally, but I noticed certain ones (such as as “raffish” and “larky”) came up too many times to remain charming.
  • One Day has the distinction of being the first book I ever read on my Kobo (e-reader). I loved its portability, but the editing was wonky: there were well over a dozen instances where the second letter was missing in words starting with F, so “flatly” became “fatly” and “frightened” became “fightened”, etc. At first it made me chuckle, and then I thought it was a weird joke I wasn’t getting, and then it made me unreasonably annoyed.

1.1 We watched the movie at our book club meeting, because obviously. (I get an extra set of bullets for that. Since it’s my blog and I say so.)

One-Day-one-day-movie-poster-Anne-Hathaway

  • I think I actually liked the movie better. *gasp.* The embodied characters were more endearing, probably because I liked the actors.
  • I finally saw the appeal of Jim Sturgess, who didn’t do anything for me in Across The Universe. Somehow, he was cuter and charminger in this – maybe I just don’t like him in Beatles-y hair.
  • Anne Hathaway was great, as usual, though her pronunciation (I think it’s supposed to be a Manchester accent) was unstable. AND, they actually made her look full-on frumpy in one scene. Impressive.
  • If I remember rightly, I got kinda choked up at the end. In a good way. (Whereas at the end of the book I was more like, “HUH???”)

2. Falling Backwards, by Jann Arden

jann arden falling backwards

  • Memoir of Jann Arden’s journey from (sorta) normal Canadian childhood to successful music career.
  • This lady is FUNNY. Also bizarre and disarmingly candid. I laughed out loud, many times.
  • She’s also a really good writer – very honest and unaffected, with occasional profound phrases that seem to pop up out of nowhere.
  • And she did some crazy stuff in her life. Alcoholic father, very troubled brother, and personal illnesses aside, she had adventures in fields and woods, rivers and high seas – and the urban jungle. Not exaggerating.

3. The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, by Alan Bradley.

sweetness at the bottom of the pie alan bradley

  • Eleven-year-old detective Flavia de Luce narrates a tale of murder-mystery-solving, and gets herself into some serious escapades.
  • This character drives the book. She’s mischievous and smart and sassy and a little vulnerable sometimes, and I relished her.
  • She makes you want to learn chemistry. (That’s where much of her Sherlock-ability lies.)
  • There are more books about her! Someday I’ll have time for those. (But don’t worry, unlike SOME books, this one has its own gratifying ending.)

4. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, by Robert M. Pirsig

Pirsig zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance

  • Classic (1974) philosophical novel about a guy who takes a motorcycle road trip with his son and some friends, and lets his deeper mind do most of the talking.
  • This book was ground-breaking, life-changing, when it came out. (As indicated above.) My own parents have referred to it in such terms.
  • For us, it was not as thrilling as we’d hoped. Many (though not all) of the ruminations on technology are obsolete, and some bits seem kinda naive. Most of the GGG found it dense slogging, to the point of groanishness. I found some parts quite interesting, but to be honest, I haven’t finished it. I do plan to… someday.
  • I now associate it with the horribly sweet neon-orange beverage I had to drink during the 3.5-hour glucose test I did while pregnant with Baby AB, because Zen and TAOMM was how I passed the wait.
  • One extra point! to state that later editions have a bonus ending section that is not part of the original! Yes, I’m saying that if you haven’t read this since the 70s… THERE IS MORE TO THE STORY. (See how it makes sense that I get an extra bullet? Boo-yah, loophole.)

5. The Colour of Tea, by Hannah Tunnicliffe

color of tea hannah tunnicliffe

  • Grace moves to China for her husband’s work and is left listless by news of her infertility. Eventually, she picks up her bootstraps (or whatever the phrase is) and starts a new life as a café owner.
  • The heroine irritated me for the first few chapters (even though I could hardly blame her for her torpor), but I ended up liking her a lot.
  • The descriptions of the city of Macau are vivid and interesting, but not as much as the mouthwatering descriptions of the café food, especially the macarons of different flavours. (NOT macaroons – these are more like gourmet meringue sandwich cookies, as pictured on the cover. Our host procured some for the book club meeting, because obviously we were dying to try some, but I missed it. 🙁 )
  • The synergistic ending was one I (and probably many others) saw coming from a mile away… but it was still satisfying.

6. The Knife Of Never Letting Go, by Patrick Ness

The_Knife_of_Never_Letting_Go_by_Patrick_Ness

  • In the land where there are no female humans – and the males can all hear each other’s thoughts – all the time – one young boy must escape. Things are not as they seem. Dun dun dunnnn.
  • Really interesting, thought-provoking concept. I think all of us enjoyed the way this alternate world was imagined, and were fairly carried away by the plot and flinty characters.
  • We were unanimously annoyed by the deliberate wrong spellings, though, since they only partially made sense. Maybe they appeal more to the (intended) YA audience.
  • Warning: it’s not over at the end! In fact, I was somewhat ticked off at the end. HUGE… BUILDUP… CRESCENDO… OMG CAN WE PLEASE JUST KNOW HOW IT ENDS?? And then it’s over, but nothing’s wrapped up because go read Book Two, people. Hmph.

7. White Teeth, by Zadie Smith

white teeth zadie smith

  • An unlikely bunch of people in London are connected, practically as family, by a strange history and even stranger present events (present being mostly the 70s in this case).
  • I was fully impressed by the confidence with which Zadie Smith, at age 25, wrote this debut novel. The writing is quirky and opinionated and speaks brashly about all kinds of topics where I’d be tiptoeing. Evidently the rest of the world was also impressed, because it became an immediate bestseller and won a bunch of awards.
  • Some in the group found it kinda hard to get into. I found it mostly interesting, full of characters that were engaging if not completely likeable, but it helps that I was reading it on a very lightweight device, as it was apparently a very large book. The absorption-to-weight ratio matters.
  • There was one part in particular about a young black girl going to great lengths to achieve straight, silky hair. It is now branded on my memory forever, because shortly after finishing the book, I watched the documentary “Good Hair” on Netflix. It’s true and it’s crazy, y’all.

8. The Story of Beautiful Girl, by Rachel Simon

the story of beautiful girl rachel simon

 

  • Where do a deaf black man and a woman with Down Syndrome find true love together? At the School for the Incurable and Feebleminded.
  • This is an amazing and lovely story, written sensitively and beautifully through the POVs of several different people. We were all moved by it.
  • The author’s note at the end was great, too. She wrote humbly about not wanting to appropriate voices that weren’t hers, but needing to write about this, and give these characters a more joyful story than the real ones on which it’s based.
  • This book, like The Help, makes you shudder. This kind of treatment of differently-abled people was only a few decades ago (or less? could still be happening?) in the United States (and probably here in Canada, too). How scarily, horribly recent. How outrageously shameful.

9. Something Fierce, by Carmen Aguirre

something-fierce carmen-aguirre

  • Memoir of a young adulthood spent as a (daughter of a) revolutionary in South America, particularly Pinochet’s Chile; winner of Canada Reads in 2012.
  • One of those books that makes your jaw drop. Seriously?? She did all that stuff? At WHAT age? How was she this brave??
  • It reminds you that concentration camps and everyday danger are not limited to the WWII Holocaust. As the author points out, we have a sheltered, relatively naive existence here in Canada.
  • Despite all this, the book is not as harrowing or depressing as you might imagine. It’s written with a dark humour and frankness, and the evolution of Aguirre’s 11-year-old self to her adult self, under crazy circumstances, is fascinating.

Alors, voilà!

There are (I think) three books missing from this list (namely Animal Vegetable Miracle, Quiet, and Gold), which I will be reviewing individually, because the five-bullet rule was just not going to work for me in those cases. Please stay tuned.

***


 

Related Posts:

foccacia pizza

Eight Random Things with Dazzling Segues

Yep, it’s after ten on a Wednesday night and I’m gonna DAZZLE y’all. With some random things connected by pure awesomeness. After all, my claim of brilliant segues last time was… oh wait. They were fair-to-middling.

Anyway.

raspberries
This photo doesn’t do justice to the gorgeous black-purple of the ripe ones.

1. It’s black raspberry season. BEST THING EVER. As kids, we used to scale the cliffs near our house and slither right into the brambles to get these, and they were worth every scratch. Now I know about Marcy’s Berry Farm where you can get them without quite so much peril – but still lots of wholesome dopamine hits when you find fat, juicy berries in luscious clumps. There’s a black raspberry cobbler in the oven right now. Aw yeah.

2. Speaking of local stuff that’s in season, SWEET CORN! Okay, I guess there are two best things ever. Even my picky son was exclaiming about the deliciousness of the corn we munched on tonight.

3. Speaking of my quirky firstborn, I love him heaps and piles forever, but he’s a strange guy. As some of you know (or have witnessed), he has loved arms for a long while. Yes, the limbs, not the weapons. Especially mine. He likes to give lavish kisses to the inside of the slightly-bent elbow. Recently he has discovered he can cut out the middleman (or woman) and kiss his OWN arm. It’s kind of sweet that he expresses such affection toward himself, but the kissing gets on my nerves because it’s, like, really loud and smoochy and frequent. In the car, at the dinner table. In bed while he’s going to sleep. But what kind of mother would I be if I told him to cut out that self-kissing, it’s annoying? After all, I kiss my kids’ kissy cheeks every chance I get. What a terrible example I’m setting.

4. Speaking of self-love, I finally watched Dr. Brené Brown’s viral Ted Talk about her research on shame/vulnerability. Gah, she’s so amazing. (Plus I love to listen to her because she’s from Texas. She sounds like my family.) Now I can hardly wait to read her book, Daring Greatly.

5. Speaking of books on the must-read list, I also must read the new book Cuckoo’s Calling by Robert Galbraith, Ja.K.a. Rowling! What! So exciting!! I hope it’s not scary because then I would still have to read it but I would be scared. And I feel a little bad for Jo, because it was apparently very freeing for her to write under an unknown pseudonym for a while, but as Sean pointed out, she has all those billions of dollars to make her feel better. And as Jon Stewart would say, “Oh, billions of dollars. Is there any problem you can’t solve?”

6. Speaking of things I know of thanks to my internet connection, I will be unplugging as of this Friday, July 19th, through Saturday, July 27th, to attend Family Camp. Looking forward to seeing wonderful people, watching my kids play with lots of other kids, eating food cooked by someone else, splashing in Lake Huron, listening to breezes in birch leaves. I will not be blogging, nor attempting to blog, although I am going to try to have a few short-and-sweet posts ready for auto-publishing through the week, just for fun. (And I will not apologize if I happen to write some things that later become blog posts.)

7. Speaking of unplugging, I’ve been reading some cool blog posts about the subject of screen-free time for kids, and I’m mulling over the limits that need to be placed on screen time in our house. Not just for E, but for me too. I get irritated with myself always checking things. Blog post is brewing on this. (Irony is also brewing.)

6. Speaking of brewing, that rhymes with stewing, and it is hot as blazing chili out this week. Even my morning glories that seed themselves rampantly every summer are looking droopy. (I don’t water them. They’ll manage. Next thing you know there will probably be flooding. Oh, hello Climate Change, do they still think you’re a made-up fad? You go prove ’em wrong, slugger!)

7. Speaking of things sprouting and the heat being on, Queen Elizabeth and I are basically the same person, because here we are, both wondering Where’s that royal baby? Please arrive before I go offline! But then, I’m also practically Kate Middleton because I know about late babies. I know what it’s like to be so overdue that people give up and stop asking. So hang in there, Kate, your baby’s gonna be awesome.

8. Speaking of my undeniable resemblance to royalty, I had a brush with my own fame the other day. I was at the splash pad chatting with my blog-friend mama lola and some of her other friends – and one of them heard mention of the “teacher post” and was like, “You’re Dilovely! That post was awesome! It was everywhere!” You guys, it was SO. EXCITING. I’m sure it’s really bad form to talk about this to my actual readers on my actual blog, but whatever. I’m still all thrilled and blushing about it. (And joking, since I’m still pretty sure Kate is a little more famous than me.)

So… à bientôt, lovely Di-hards.

***


 

Related Posts: