22 Jan
2014

Charming Urban Adventures

Hello! I have not died, given up blogging for bone-crushing sports, or boxed up either child for Abu Dhabi, the last of which would be, I imagine, somewhat hard to explain to the Internet and therefore worthy of an extended hiatus. Instead of hanging out here–which I see you’ve decorated with black wreaths in mourning; how Fizgeraldian of you!–I have been alternately working, slaving away at kindergarten application paperwork (indeed), enjoying January’s unusual springlike weather, and staring until my eyes go bokeh at the Christmas lights, at least until I got around to taking them down Sunday afternoon (the lights, not my eyes) while Fox napped and Simon and Wombat met friends for a bro-date at a rock-n-roll Shakespearean outer-space musical, which is apparently a thing. Other diversions have included going to the park, dressing Fox like a pretty, pretty girl, and standing quite naturally in front of brightly colored buildings whilst wearing a wrinkly tunic, as you do.

We had a great Christmas and New Year, which I hope to eventually recap if only to soothe my personal abhorrence of a vacuum, and you can bet the farm that the weeks since we got home have been full of the usual charming urban adventures, including the episode in which a lovely woman and her lovely little kids (three under three!) came from down the street and asked if they could snip a few sprigs from our rosemary bush that’s as big as a sedan (I was feeling generous and said yes), and then they made the cutest, tiniest rosemary lemon shortbread cookies, which they left in a bag on our porch, where it was apparently attacked by squirrels or something equally unwholesome and rabid. On the one hand, this unfortunate intersection of wildlife with baked goods made me very sad indeed because the cookies were delicious (yes, I braved the possibility of an undignified death-by-parasitic-cookie demise and tasted one before I threw them away) but it was also was okay that I had to dispose of them instead of devour them because I’ve been dubious of homemade treats since the first time Wombat was sent home with food he’d made at daycare and as Daycare Lady handed it to me she shook her head and said “Booger cookies,” which I took as not mere description but as red-level warning. Did I just ruin homemade treats for you too? I’m sorry/you’re welcome.

Photographic interlude:

That right there is what life has been like lately: Attempting to referee a kitchen-court ball game (of which I don’t know the rules, assuming there are any) between an uncoordinated five-year-old and an overconfident toddler while simultaneously doing last year’s taxes. Could this combination of the mentally taxing (haaaa) with the physically impossible be the future of Olypmic winter sports? I sincerely hope not. I’m pooped and I’m not even at altitude.

What have you been up to? Is 2014 treating you right so far?

By    8 Comments    Posted in: Regular Entries, Review Blog


8 Comments

  • Hi! Glad to hear all is well. I dont comment often, but thought your blog post amongst the busyness of your life deserved a comment :) Happy 2014 to you and your lovely family.

    • Thank you, Tanya! Coming here to crickets is always disheartening; I’ll take your pity comment without complaint. :)

  • We are almost a month past Christmas and I cannot believe it is so… I still feel like I’m in holiday mode when really I need to be in get sh!t done mode. Yipes. And Fox is freaking adorable (Wombat, also cute but one cannot deny the sweet toddler face in those pictures).

    • I hear you. I always feel scrambled this time of year too. Coming off the holidays + Simon’s birthday (today!) + Valentine’s Day + usually at least one birthday party in there too…it’s a lot of extra stuff competing with all the everyday stuff I somehow seem to have a hard time staying on top of in general.

      And thanks for the sweet words about the boys. I think they’re pretty cute too. :)

  • Yay! You’re back! I missed your words.

    • Ah, bless you, Line! It’s nice to be missed. :)

  • We’re knee-deep in our own charming country adventures. Which seem to result in a lot of laundry and various boo boos on the faces of my sons. (Not that I’m glad Fox has a gash in his nose in those pictures, but it makes me feel not so alone in my possession of an 18-month-old child who more often than not has some kind of scab on his face.)

    • Oh man. He ALWAYS has a head injury of some kind. I barely even notice them anymore. He seriously needs a protective bubble.

Have at it!

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