Sunday, October 31, 2010

Happy Halloween

Meet Monkey.

Princess Butterfly Faerie.

Thomas the Train, Princess Buterfly Faerie, romping during adults' beer-and-potty break (best idea ever).

It was fun.

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Monday, October 18, 2010

Such A Nice Weekend With the Fam

Despite the incredibly juvenile pillow fight that K and I had last night which ended with him pulling a hair out of my temple and me headbanging him in the nose...

It was a really nice weekend.

Lots of waffles. We spent some time working outside. Annaliese taking breaks from her obsessive balloon-blowing to help K on the car, one or two or no kids riding the wheelbarrow of mulch I was carting around. We went to the library and to the best park we've ever gone to and watched Caillou and took a loooonnng Sunday nap that was in fact so long that BOTH of our children were awake and blowing raspberries at 10pm last night. (A first!).

Caspian says Mommy and Daddy and nods yes and shakes no and goes "sssss" if you ask him to say please. This morning I crouched down and said, I've got to go to work, buddy. Give me a hug. He gave me a gooey kiss instead and then waved bye.

Annaliese calls him nothing but "Brother" these days and alternately takes everything from him/tickles, coos, and plays with him. She is obsessed with these new Zutano leggings i got her and wants to wear nothing else. She can count to twelve reliably and writes As all the time and identifies Ws and Ms. She is potty-trained. Sometimes she tells me she is a zebra and grins.

And K.-- well, I like him. He makes good waffles. He smells nice. I like to watch Castle with him. He's smart and interesting and, unless I ask him to turn off his bedside lamp or pick up his socks, very, very nice to me.

We took a few pics but I am at the store and don't have them.

Ramble officially over.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

stuff i write when the store is empty

The Local Yokels

Character Sketches of The Latest Locavores

“I think,” the woman, said, “that your store is fabulous.” She picks up a glass bottle of case-sugar A&W root beer. “How do you get all these things locally?”

He looks like I am holding something dubious and smelly under his nose. Really, though, I am not holding anything, and he is fingering a package of gourmet wild mushroom ravioli. “Where were these made? Did you make them?”

I sell freshly brewed fair-trade coffee two ways: by the cup (75 cents) or by your cup (25). I do this because I don’t like spending my money on paper. So it’s fine that this frizzy-haired girl with the bike and the Black lab came in with her own mug for some coffee.

It is less fine when she sits in one of my three booths for two hours during sandwich time.

When she comes to the counter to settle up (54 cents with tax: she got a refill), she says, “I would love to get a farm, raise my own vegetables, get some chickens. Industrial agriculture is so terrible, and you know, people just don’t know. We have to support local stores like yours.”

She gives me exact change.

You know who’s fun to sell groceries to? People who love to eat.

“Try this,” I say, and the plump woman’s eyes roll back in her head as she tastes our house-made curried chicken salad.

“I love this bread,” the elderly woman says. She is holding a loaf of ciabetta. “Can’t pronounce the name, but it sure tastes good.”

“This smoked turkey,” the pest control man says with conviction, “is the best I have ever had.”

A lady buys two of our baker’s Salty Pecan cookies, pays, leaves. Three minutes later she’s back in the store. “I made the mistake of trying these,” she says. She buys eight more to take with her on her road trip north.

An elderly black woman lays three Georgia peaches on my counter. She counts out her change carefully.

Another customer comes to the counter with a sackful of local tomatoes. “I love me some tomatoes,” she says. “I’m allergic to them, but I eat ‘em anyway. That’s why God made Benedryl.”

It’s gotten fashionable to care more about where food comes from than how much it costs or how it tastes. I have my own theories on how to encourage local agriculture, but here is the one thing I know as a person managing a grocery store: food is what nourishes us. It’s what grows our children and feeds our souls and it absolutely matters where it comes from. But many of the local food purists who come in my store are missing the point: food should be eaten, enjoyed, and relished. “Mangia, Mangia!” is the saying after all-- not “Nitpick, nitpick.”

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Two dAYS aGO nOW, a bOY and a Ballerina

She took her crazy "Baby Doggie" to class. They were both pink. He and the sunglasses were her idea.

Caspian isn't supposed to have a pacifier in his mouth, but he found it. It was his idea. He also likes touching his sister's candyfloss hair.

She is a little bit of a diva. And she loves her ladybug bag. Her tap shoes are in it. As well as a quarter. That was her idea.

Caspian likes the cap on the screw that holds the toilet down. This photo was not my idea. They weren't listening. We were late for class. Everyone wants a picture of his haircut.

At least you can see the back.

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Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Several Things

My husband threw me a surprise party! After a fancy dinner at our favorite restaurant! I hate parties, but man, this one wasn't so bad, and it was incredibly sweet, no doubt about it.

Plus I got more presents. Hee!


Read this this morning.

Not unsympathetic-- what mama would be? But as an econ major, one thing strikes me... if you have two workers, one of whom is going to take several years off from work, miss more days, etc, you are likely going to protect yourself against the anticipated costs by paying her less.

Kids cost. They do. At the store right now, I have two choices: one, work for free and leave in the early afternoon, or 2, get a (measly) salary and work crazy hours, typical entrepeneur ship style.

I pick one because I can afford to (thanks Baby!) and because if I didn't, it would have very serious ramifications for my family.

So I don't get paid. Although I do swipe six bucks every Friday for yoga class.

It's not ideal, what's happening in France, but at least they don't both get paid less and get no maternal support from the country.

Now as to the husband-household thing... men, get off your butts! Help out! Sheeshums.

Saturday, October 09, 2010

It's My Birthday!

So my sister gave me this pic behind the spoons, which I LOVE, and plan to hang above the stove. My mum has sent me gazillions of bulbs-- YES!!!- to plant under my redbud tree and where I will. My friend Megan called, which is amazing, because I have yet to remember HER birthday. My mother-in-law sent me a note and a gift certificate.

And my sweetheart made sure I came home to this today:

Bright outside which means the details of the freshly baked pound cake on the counter might be lost. But freshly baked pound cake!

I love my birthday.

And I love these 'uns too. What a lucky girl I am.
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Sunday, October 03, 2010

My Seester Came to Visit.

Highlights of her visit: walking into the store, making a tailgate platter, getting thrown into an apron and into the kitchen to make sandwiches for burly men with tattoos.

By Saturday she looked like this:

And then I made us all go to the garden this morning and plant a redbud tree as a fall consecration ritual.

(Photo taken after Annaliese and I dragged her back to the garden.)

Luckily she got to have some fun as well.

Cheers, Sister. We loved having you.

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