A couple months ago, I had dinner(ish) and drinks (more of this) with a friend, and in the course of our conversation we spoke of many things – “of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings.” We talked of opportunities passed by and wasted potential – and ultimately, whether they mattered when considering one’s overall happiness. Continue reading
Divorce is a funny thing. Even in a case such as mine, where everything is amicable and hunky-dory, divorce by its nature represents change. It’s now been almost 14 months since my ex and I filed for divorce, and nearly three years since we officially separated. And not surprisingly, the impact of that action has continued to change, morph and mature as time has gone on.
Interludes from K this week:
1) K sees someone on the street and says, “I think that person is a witch” (woman is wearing all black with a black hoodie that’s up, kind of like the point of a hat).
We pass the woman, K glances back and says, “no she’s not a witch.” I say “what does a witch look like?”
With the passings of Ray Bradbury and Sally Ride, and the successful launch of Curiosity, I’ve been thinking a lot about space exploration and the importance of science and the drive to learn more, to ask why, to discover. As the mother of a three-year-old, I want desperately to bottle her sense of wonder and to do everything I can to prevent it from disappearing.
This post is nearly a week late, but I couldn’t finish the week without acknowledging my munchkin’s third birthday.
On Monday, whenever someone asked K about the crown she was wearing or what was special about the day, she would explain, “It’s Happy Birthday to Me!!” When one of her teachers said to her, “Oh it’s your birthday? Could it be my birthday too?” K replied: “Well, it could be your birthday, but it’s not because it’s my birthday, but it would make you sad if I told you it wasn’t your birthday, so we can pretend it’s your birthday if you want even though it’s actually my birthday.” The teacher said she’s never been told “no” quite so politely in her life.
But this is K. She’s smart and articulate, crazy and hilarious. Her thought process is fascinating to watch and her individual sense of self and style is something I hope devoutly that she keeps in the face of peer pressure as the years go on.
Seriously. My father used to tell me that the true test of someone’s ability to use chopsticks was being able to pick up peanuts with them. I wonder what he would think of my not quite three year old picking up Goldfish? See below for pictures. Continue reading
Many of the people who know me have heard me refer to “Letter night,” which happens every month or two and to which I always look forward. The premise is this: We cook our way through the alphabet. So for example, for the letter A, everyone brought a dish that began with the letter A. It was always a surprise to see what we ended up with and how different they could be. As I recall, I first joined this tradition around the letter “I”, and it took about another 5 years to make it through the rest of the alphabet.
I think we’ve all enjoyed these nights, and so when we got to Z, we decided to start again – with a twist. This time, the host (as determined by alphabetical order, of course), decides what ingredient we all work with, ala Iron Chef/Chopped. For A night, Amy decided on Artichokes. And this past weekend, Colleen decided on, of all things, Bologna.