Friends Are Nice

  1. The Grand Opening Pampered Chef cooking show was a success!  That is to say, people came, we chatted, we made food, we used fun tools, guests bought products, and the Three-Cheese Garden Pizza was delicious.  Thanks everyone, for attending, and for your kind wishes!
  2. Being a consultant is going to involve a significant learning curve, because of little details.  Things I want to remember to mention, things I want to be prepared for.  Not unlike teaching in many ways, actually.  Except that if I had, say, my Grade Sixes make pizza… well, let’s just say I wouldn’t.
  3. It felt weird to sell things to friends and family, as I knew it would.  Even though I know they’re going to love the items they’ve chosen… I still know they’re doing it partly for my sake, and I don’t want to take advantage of them.  But I’m not, they don’t feel I am, not at all.  So it’s weird.  It will be much less weird to sell things to strangers.
  4. That being said, it was really nice having my friends and family there for that first experience as a consultant.  They were great sports about it, and participated willingly in the grating/chopping/rolling out/garlic pressing/sprinkling etc., as well as in discussion of our favourite items.  They are nice.  And lovely.
  5. E was also a hit at the party, as usual, and not just with his two Grandmas in attendance.  I enjoyed being in another room processing orders, listening to people make weird noises for him and thinking of how babies sure change the timbre of an otherwise grown-up party.
  6. Speaking of E, it should not go without mention that he rolled over the other day!  I believe it was Monday.  And it was sad and sheepish for me, because I was checking my email when it happened.  I put him on his play mat on his back, and he was happily munching on his jingly/crunchy stuffed cube.  Next thing, I look over and he’s very quietly, calmly lying on his stomach.  !@*#!  Of course I got all excited, came and played with him to see if he’d do it again – and he hasn’t done it since.  But I called Daddy at work to tell him anyway.
  7. Speaking of Daddy, it should not go without mention that the very same day also occurred another first: as he sat on his father’s knee, swinging his little legs, observing the goings-on, E inadvertently kicked his own dad in the nuts for the very first time.  And was, thanks to my husband’s grace in suffering, contentedly oblivious to the pain he’d caused.  Coupla cuties.
  8. Final note: my nutmeg hair is considerably darker than an actual nutmeg, but very similar to the colour on the dye box.  I like it.  Many others say they do too.  I felt particularly exotic during the belly dance show because I’d drawn myself eyebrows to match.  🙂

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