Month: March 2018

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12 Months of Trails: Piscataway Park in March, 2018

Happy birthday (again, belated) to my sweet little hiker!  Turning the dials on the way-back machine to two weeks ago, would you like to see some pictures of Nugget’s birthday hike?  Yes – that’s right – when asked what he wanted to do, out of all the options, for his birthday weekend, Nugget’s first choice of activities was a hike.  Clearly, I’m doing something right!

We chose Piscataway Park for the possibility of seeing animals, and for the mixture of lovely views, a serene trail, and fun farm activities.  The mid-March crocuses were a-blooming.

Don’t be pokey!  We’ve got hiking to do!

Nugget wanted to explore down by the river, so he and I walked down together.  He had about ten minutes of pure glee, throwing rocks into the water (what is it with little boys and throwing rocks into water?) and I was delighted to find a huge stash of perfect spiral shells.  On the banks of the Potomac.  Who knew?

Back up on the trail – it seems we were a bit too early for this hike.  No baby animals, as of yet, the trail story wasn’t posted, and the visitor’s center was closed (fine, because we forgot our NPS passports anyway).  We’re going to have to come back in a few more weeks when the park is hopping.

We made our own excitement.  Don’t worry, Peanut isn’t crying.  She’s dramatically… something.  But it’s not crying, I promise, as you can probably tell from Nugget’s amused expression.

Hello yellow daffodils!  These pictures have made me unreasonably happy.  I’ve looked at them more times than I can count during the long days at the office.

That’s it – just a few!  I was more focused on enjoying the amble along the trails with my newly-minted three-year-old than I was on documenting the whole experience.  But I am still absolutely tickled that my outdoor boy chose a hike as a birthday weekend activity.  Parenting achievement: unlocked!

Do you like to celebrate your birthday in nature?

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Lit Bits, Volume I

I’ve been thinking of adding a new blog series to serve as sort of a bookish brain dump, where I can share readerly thoughts that don’t quite merit their own blog posts (or that I’m still working out, in advance of their becoming longer blog posts).  Just bits, here and there.  And so: meet Lit Bits.  I won’t be posting these regularly – just whenever I have enough thoughts bumping around the brain to warrant gathering them all up.  Which, at the moment, I do.

You know you’re a bookworm when you start typing “goo…” into your browser and instead of “google,” it prompts you with “goodreads.”

I’m starting to get a little bit territorial about my library card.  My kids have fallen in love with the library and they always want to check out a pile of books whenever we stop by – which we do on a weekly basis, even if it’s just to quickly return a book that’s due back.  I love that they love books and the library, but I kind of wish they had their own card.  Seeing all of their books mixed in with mine when I check my account online kind of sets my teeth on edge.  Plus, their books tend to migrate all over the house and they’re hard to keep track of.  I’m constantly fretting that one of their books will get lost and my account will get suspended.

At what point, if one is committed to a life of honesty, does one admit that one needs another bookshelf?  (I said this to Steve, paraphrased from The Crown.)  I think I might be getting to that point.  The novelty of unrestricted book-acquisition, post-Project 24, has not worn off and I’m starting to amass piles of books all over the house.  Plus, I’ve recently started branching into pre-loved (and sometimes rather rare) books.  I am getting to critical mass and starting to think another trip to IKEA might be necessary.  I have just the corner picked out.  (It’s also the last place that makes any sense in my small row house, so I either have to slow down on the book-buying or… move.)

Do you ever have major non-buyer’s remorse?  I thought about buying Christabel Bielenberg’s The Past is Myself when Slightly Foxed published it, but I couldn’t get past the confusing title.  Now it’s out of print (they publish in limited editions of 2,000 and once the run is gone, with a few exceptions, it’s gone) and I am wishing I had bought it.  Not just because the gorgeous eggplant purple cover would have looked so nice on my Slightly Foxed shelf, but also because I am having this huge urge to read nonfiction about ordinary people living under totalitarian regimes lately.  (I’ll leave it to you to figure out why.  #RESIST)

I think there’s a longer post here, but I’m getting a bit sick of having reading goals.  Aiming for a percentage of my reading to fit a particular criteria is starting to make reading (a little) less fun.  I like tracking my books and I feel good about my commitment to read diverse voices, but at the same time – my life has so little fun in it right now, that I wish I felt a bit freer to choose whatever I wanted to read, whenever I wanted to read it.  Something to think about.

How about you?  Any bookish bits on your mind?

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It’s Monday! What Are You Reading? (March 26, 2018)

Yawwwwwwn.  Monday.  Again.  Where did the weekend go?  I don’t even feel like it happened.  It was kind of an all-work, no-play weekend.  Or at least, mostly-work, very-little-play.  I was up before the sun on Saturday and started working at 5:00 a.m. to finish a work assignment that I really needed to churn out (yes, my streak of working every weekend in 2018 continues).  Delusional me thought that if I got that knocked out before the kids woke up, I’d have the rest of the weekend to play.  Well, do you think it went to plan?  Does anyone think it went to plan?  Of course it didn’t go to plan.  Nugget was up before I was done with my work, so I sat him in front of a cartoon while I tried to finish up what I was doing.  Then down came Peanut – same thing.  The next hour saw me running frantically between the kitchen and the computer, but I finally got the assignment finished and turned in – whew.  To celebrate, we all bundled up for a hike at Lake Burke – one of my favorite local parks.  (Peanut brought her map so we wouldn’t get lost.  What a relief!)  Of course, because my life is kind of terrible at the moment, midway through the hike I got a response on my assignment, to the effect of “Thanks, looks good – can you also look into this other issue?”  Oof.  Yes, I can.  Pretty much the rest of Saturday – lunch, naps, post-bedtime – was devoted to work.  Sunday was even busier.  I didn’t have as much work to do – only an hour or so – but I spent the entire morning and into the afternoon helping my BFF, Rebecca, move into her new apartment.  It’s a short-term thing; she has the place for six months and then she’ll be off to parts unknown (sniff) but in the meantime, she’s moved much closer to me, so I’m pumped.  We spent an active morning loading her car with essentials and then renting a truck and hauling her furniture.  Then we figured we’d earned a big lunch, so we treated ourselves to Sunflower Café – a vegetarian restaurant in Falls Church.  So delicious, and we gobbled it up.  The rest of the day was more of the same – work, kiddo playtime, and I finally crashed with my book at the end.  I was productive, sure, but I could really use a break.

Reading.  Only one book this week.  Between five very long days of work last week, plus an insanely crazy running around weekend, I haven’t been able to make nearly the progress I wanted to make on my stack.  I’m still reading Beyond Words: What Animals Think and Feel, which is still fascinating and heart-wrenching as it was last week.  I’m nearly done, though.  Next up, I think, will be African Short Stories, a collection edited by Chinua Achebe.  I’m looking forward to it, and a nice slim volume will be just the thing, I think, after a hefty non-fiction tome.

Watching.  Very little, as well.  (This is turning into one of those depressing posts, isn’t it?  I don’t mean for it to be – that’s just the week I had.)  Mostly, all I’ve watched is Miles from Tomorrowland over the kids’ shoulders as they eat their breakfast in the morning.  Because – sigh – there’s been a major backsliding on my constant attempts to banish TV from the table.  It’s a war that I’m fighting and I just don’t have the energy these days.

Listening.  I finished up the first episode of Those Park Guys Podcast this week – at an hour and a half long, that episode was no mean feat – and it was so much fun.  I’m saving the second episode for after I watch the next episode of the show, because the guys have a segment during which they chat about the most recently aired episode, and I don’t want to spoil anything.

Moving.  Sunday was a real workout!  Let me tell you, hauling a mattress, desk, and a chair the size of a couch is no joke.  I felt pretty hardcore, climbing in and out of the pickup bed and hefting an insanely heavy mattress up a steep flight of stairs.  (I was also mimicking Ross Geller, shouting “PIVOT! PIVOT! PIVOTTTTTT!” and my joke totally went over Rebecca’s head.  Apparently she’s not a F*R*I*E*N*D*S fan?)

Blogging.  Some fun literary mish-mash coming up on Wednesday, and dialing the way-back machine to two weeks ago to share Nugget’s birthday hike on Friday.  Check in with me then!

Loving.  I tipped a friend off to one of my favorite book blogs, The Captive Reader, this week, and her delight inspired me to go back through the archives and re-read some posts.  I love Claire’s writing, and her taste in books is so similar to mine – plus her photography is just gorgeous.  If you’re not already reading, you should.

Asking.  What are you reading this week?

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Orange Things

Recently my brother and I were having one of our marathon phone conversations, during which we spend two-plus hours discussing anything and everything, mocking mutual acquaintances, plotting world domination, and debating important, hard-hitting issues like orange: good or bad?  That particular debate, which went on longer than you’d care to know, started when Dan mentioned that he hates the color orange, and I took extreme umbrage.  “It’s an angry color,” he insisted.  “Orange and red make people angry.  It’s scientific fact.”  Be that as it may, I was equally insistent – I love the color orange.  Why?, Dan wondered.  It’s simple, really – orange is the color of so many things that make me happy.

Like street lamps.  And sunsets.

Especially beach sunsets.

And flickering firelight.  I’ll take a candle or a cozy blaze in the fireplace, but the best is a campfire.  Ideally a campfire in my best friend’s backyard, while boats drift silently by on the canal just a few feet away from where we sit roasting vegan marshmallows, making s’mores, sipping summer shandy and laughing.  Bonus points if a solar-powered “fairy in a jar” is glowing nearby.

And flowers.  Mums, nasturtiums, gerbera daisies – I love ’em.  Give me orange flowers any day.  Nothing brightens up a kitchen so well.  Especially two-for-one farmers’ market bouquets.

And fall foliage.  Hills ablaze – just how I like them.  (This was about a week past peak, but you’d never know, would you?)

On the trees or on the ground.  There’s nothing like an orange leaf.

And there are the lovely orange globe pumpkins, ready for picking just before Hallowe’en.

Tigger not included.  (Tigger’s orange, too!)

I didn’t even mention to Dan the deep orange brocade shawl his wife gave me for Christmas the year before last.  But that’s another orange thing I love.  (Clearly, the lovely Danielle can appreciate the beauties of the color orange, even if my brother can’t!)

Do you love an unfairly maligned color?

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The Book Review Jargon That Guarantees I WON’T Read The Book

When you read a lot, and you identify as a reader, it’s almost certain to follow that you’re on the hunt for recommendations.  What’s the big new release that everyone’s talking about?  The under-the-radar sleeper that I need to pick up?  The classic author I’ve somehow missed?  The perfect-right-now next read that I should have on deck?

I’m no exception – I’m always looking for tips and recommendations for my next read.  I get them all over the place – from other blogs, bookish Twitter, bookstagram, podcasts and friends – and I’m invariably interested in hearing a quick summary of a recommended book, so I can judge for myself whether I might like it or not.  (I’m not one of those people who like to go into a book completely blind.  I have limited time in which to read and I’d prefer to know that there’s at least a chance I’ll enjoy a book before I pick it up and devote time to it.)

When you read enough book blogs, follow enough bookish accounts on social media and listen to enough podcasts, you get to know the book reviewing jargon that bloggers toss around in their reviews.  For better or for worse, there are some words that get used a lot, and that can actually be a good thing.  When we’re all speaking the same language, it can be easier to sniff out the books that have the most likelihood of success for a given reader.

But there’s one review word I absolutely hate, and if I hear it spoken by a podcast host, or read it in a review, it’s a guaranteed nope for me.  Doesn’t matter how great the book is.  If I hear this word – I’m done.  I won’t read it.

UNFLINCHING.

I recently realized that the word unflinching is a poison pill for me and books and at first I thought it was because I do tend to gravitate toward cozy reads and comfort books.  No one is going to call Miss Read, Angela Thirkell or Jane Austen unflinching.  They are fully flinching.  (Well, Austen is a straight shooter when it comes to the perils of spinsterhood in Regency and Georgian England.  But she manages to package it well.)

But actually – that can’t be it.  I’ve read plenty of books on difficult subjects.  Between the World and Me was no walk in the park, and The Underground Railroad and The Handmaid’s Tale were straight-up horrifying.  And I’ll give fair, active consideration to books that reviewers describe as “raw” or “honest” or “troubling” or “challenging” or any other number of words.  Certainly, I don’t shy away from the tough stuff.

I just really, really hate the word unflinching.  I feel like it’s a cop-out; it’s what reviewers say when they know a book is hard to read but they don’t want to put the time and emotional energy into explaining why.  Maybe they only have so many on-air minutes to devote to the book, or they’re just tired after a long day and don’t feel like typing another paragraph.  That’s fine – I get it.  I just can’t stand the word, and it’s a deal-breaker for me.

So, please, if I write a book review and I call something unflinching, punch me.  I promise I’ll flinch.

Is there a book review buzzword you JUST! CAN’T! STAND!?

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It’s Monday! What Are You Reading? (March 19, 2018)

Hello, Monday!  It was a crazy weekend after a crazy week – as usual.  We planned to host Nugget’s third birthday party this weekend because it was the only weekend that worked for my parents to come.  He had two requests: (1) Star Wars theme; and (2) his friend S – actually his sister’s bestie, but Nugget loves her too – would come.  We were able to make both happen, so he had a fabulous time.  Most of Saturday was spent running around and doing party-related tasks – pulling out decorations; starting the marshmallow storm troopers and the tiny TIE fighter cookies, etc. – and working, of course.  Sunday was all about our little Dark Lord of the Sith.  He wore his Darth Vader “costume” (it’s actually pajamas, but it has a cape) and ran around whacking people with an inflatable lightsaber.  We all laughed the entire time, and it was a perfect party (thanks, as well, to Zan, who came over early to distract the birthday boy while I finished stuffing the Darth Vader piñata and making “Obi-Wan Kebabis”).  After the party, we walked to the local elementary school playground with Nana and Grandad, and Peanut serenaded the entire block while Nugget stroked random kids’ faces.  We scared several children away from the playground.  What else is new?

  

Reading.  Despite another hectic week (and hectic weekend) I got some reading done.  Finished up Fire and Fury earlier in the week.  I was a little burnt out on politics after that, as you can probably imagine, but library deadlines dictated that my next read had to be Young Jane Young, a novel about a woman who was involved in a sex scandal as a Congressional intern, changes her identity, but finds her past returns when she runs for office herself.  It was a fun, light read and I blazed through it in less than twenty-four hours.  The current read (again decided by library deadlines) is Beyond Words: What Animals Think and Feel, which I have been wanting to read for more than a year now.  The science is fascinating and – somewhat unusual for this type of book – the writing is gorgeous.

Watching.  Over the course of Friday and Saturday, Steve and I finished up the first season of Victoria, which ended on a real high note.  Now we’re anxiously awaiting the second season dropping on Netflix – soon, Netflix, please!

Listening.  More podcasts this week.  Two stand out in particular – an episode of The Mom Hour on kindergarten readiness (having a rising kindergartener, I was more interested in the second half, which talked about how to help them prepare; the first half, on how to tell if they’re ready, was not interesting to me – mine has already done Junior Kindergarten twice, and there’s no question she’s headed to the full K in the fall, or I will go Red Ross on the principal).  And the other that stands out was the VERY FIRST EPISODE EVER of Those Park Guys Podcast!  I love Rock the Park, and I follow Jack and Colton on all social media channels, so I am so excited to have them in my earbuds.  I only got to listen to part of the episode, because I turned it on in the car, while running errands over the weekend, and Nugget immediately protested.  But they’ll be in my ears as I walk to the Metro today.

Making.  I made a Force-tastic Star Wars party for my Nugget this weekend, complete with marshmallow stormtroopers, Dagobah swamp water (mostly lemonade, with a little green juice to give it that delicious swamp color), a Death Star beach ball, a Darth Vader piñata – in short, everything you need for a bumping party.  Amirite?  He loved it.

Blogging.  All the random musings this week.  On Wednesday, I will rant about a totally overused book review phrase that guarantees I will not read the book, and on Friday, I have a pretty all-over-the-place collection of colorful pictures.  Check in with me then!

Loving.  I saw a tweet this morning from @TheTweetOfGod: “How come nobody talks about Jesus’s miracle of having 12 good friends in his thirties?” and I had to LOL.  I am so blessed in my friends.  This weekend, my house was full of some of my favorite people, who all came to celebrate little Nugget.  Including Zan, who as I mentioned above came over early to help (she’s always doing stuff like that – she’s the kindest, best person) and Rachel, a newer friend – we met less than two years ago and hit it off immediately – with whom I have shared lots of chatting and laughter, and a few rants, since moving back to D.C.  Having good friends is indeed a miracle, especially in this busy season of life when everyone is running in ten different directions all the time.  I love my friends.

Asking.  What are you reading this week?

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Catherine, Emma, And Liking What You Like

If you’re a Janeite, you probably remember your first Austen novel.  Mine was Sense and Sensibility.  My mom – seeing that I was ready for more “grown-up” reading material – bought me a copy when I was a high school freshman, and I devoured it.  I loved the writing, the restrained drama, and the feeling of being a grown reader.  Most of all, I loved that I could relate to this book that was written so long ago and had become such a classic.  I saw myself in practical Elinor, and I rolled my eyes at Marianne the way I used to do at a particular drama-loving friend.  I was used to identifying with book characters – bookish Elizabeth from the Sweet Valley series, for instance, or casual, green-leaning Dawn from the Baby-Sitters Club books.  But in Elinor Dashwood, I saw for the first time that I could identify with adult characters in classic literature, too, and it opened up a whole new horizon.

Over time, I read all of Austen’s books.  I have always been a character-driven reader, and Austen’s heroines spoke to me.  Sparkling Elizabeth Bennet – quiet Fanny Price – steadfast Anne Elliot.  I seethed at the treacherous antics of Lucy Steele and Mary Crawford, and I fell in love with secondary characters like Charlotte Lucas and Jane Fairfax.  I have read all of the books multiple times now, and I know them like the back of my hand.  And of course, I have my favorites.

This past Christmas, Steve gifted me with a veritable mountain of books, including the gorgeous (and much-coveted) Folio Society editions of my three favorite Austen novels: Pride and Prejudice, Persuasion, and Northanger Abbey.  Yes – Northanger Abbey.  NOT Emma.

Some of you are cheering me right now, I know, and others have their hands on their hips and are getting ready to explain why I’m just wrong about Emma.  I have a good friend and fellow Janeite who adores Miss Woodhouse and can’t abide Miss Morland.  But here’s my thing: I’m a character-driven reader.  While I love a good plot (especially in a mystery novel) and I live for gorgeous nature writing (of the kind L.M. Montgomery does so beautifully) if the main character doesn’t capture my sympathy, nine times out of ten the book is ruined for me.  And I really, really don’t care for Emma Woodhouse.  She is vain.  She is snobbish.  She is selfish.  She is inconsiderate.  She believes herself to be superior to nearly everyone around her.  She meddles in other people’s lives.  I just think she’s a horrible person.  Nearly every time she opens her mouth, I want to shout, “That was badly done, Emma!”

I will say that Emma is one of the small minority of books that I still like despite the main character.  I love the village of Highbury and its denizens – especially the Bates ladies.  And Jane Fairfax is one of my favorite secondary characters in all of literature – I wish Austen had written the book about her.  And of course Emma gets a bit of comeuppance in the form of Mrs. Elton.  I know I give Emma a hard time.  After all, rich or poor, we all need to grow up and mature.  It’s just that most of us don’t get the indulgence of doing our growing up and maturing while leaving a wake of destruction behind us.

By contrast, I just enjoy Northanger Abbey so much more.  Rather like Emma, it’s a coming-of-age story.  Catherine Morland begins the novel as a silly young girl, just leaving home to see the world for the first time.  In Bath, she meets Isabella Thorpe, who introduces the two points of conflict in the book: the novels of Ann Radcliffe and Isabella’s brother John Thorpe.  Catherine then proceeds to let herself get swept away – unable to get out from under the thumb of the domineering John in Bath, and with a runaway imagination once she finally escapes John and heads to Northanger Abbey with Henry and Eleanor Tilney.  At Northanger, Catherine makes a series of dumb decisions – including the decision to go sneaking around the house and investigate Henry and Eleanor’s mother’s room because she believes (thank you, Ann Radcliffe!) that the woman must have been murdered or at least killed by neglect.  (In the “updated” version of Northanger, written by Val McDermid, Catherine is a Twihard, which sounds about right.)  Catherine embarrasses herself (“Remember we are English!”) and nearly loses her chance at happiness with Henry because of her foolishness.  But somehow, it’s more endearing than Emma’s foolishness.  Perhaps because it’s foolishness born of bookishness instead of snobbishness.

I’ve had quite a few debates about Northanger Abbey with a dear Janeite friend of mine.  It seems to inspire great argument and divisiveness even among Jane’s most devoted fans.  This friend considers Northanger her “sixth favorite” Austen novel – she may even dislike it.  (!!!)  She considers Catherine to be a flake (well, she is a flake) and Henry to be a mansplainer (that I don’t agree with, because mansplaining is when a man explains to a woman about something she knows better than he does; I’ve been mansplained plenty, and that’s not what Henry does).  Meanwhile, she loves Emma.  (She adores Mr. Knightley.  I’m quite happy to cede that point to her, as he is one of my favorite Austen heroes too.)

One of Jane Austen’s several residences in Bath.

Meanwhile, it seems there’s nothing you can say to so divide Janeites than to declare that Northanger Abbey is one of your favorites.  (For me, it clocks in at number two, because nothing could displace my dear Pride and Prejudice, which is the most perfect book ever written.)  I recently joined the “Drunk Janeites” group on Facebook (such a fun bunch) and we’ve had a few lively discussions about Northanger Abbey.  (All very polite.  They usually start with someone expressing an intent to read it for the first time, and the responses are about evenly divided between “OMGeeeeeee you’re gonna LOVE it TILNEY SWOOOOOON” and “Not my personal favorite, but I hope you’ll enjoy it!”)  Still, I thought it was interesting how Northanger seems to provoke more (friendly and respectful) disagreement than any other Austen book.  I do wonder why that is.

How do you feel about Catherine Morland and Emma Woodhouse?

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The Spring List 2018

I know, you’re probably thinking – wasn’t there supposed to be a recap of the winter list first?  Well – normally, yes.  But I have nothing to recap, because I didn’t do one. single. thing. from that list.  Oops!  Blame work, you guys.  It’s been so insane that I have had legit no time to do anything at all.  So I’m blowing right past it, and getting right to listing out my hopes for spring.  At this point, who knows if any of it will happen.  But at least it’s fun to daydream and plan.

  • Catch up on the 52 hike challenge – I’m several weeks behind.
  • Decide on a destination for summer travel and start planning.
  • Visit Mount Vernon and see the baby animals (that was so much fun last year).
  • Take Peanut and her doll Willa to tea at the American Girl store.
  • Hike the Bluebell Loop Trail again.
  • Read Beverly Nichols’ Merry Hall trilogy.
  • Pick tulips at Holland in Haymarket again.
  • Start the process to get approved as a Girl Scout troop leader.
  • Bake a strawberry-rhubarb pie with a lattice crust (with fruit from the farmers’ market, if possible).
  • Write letters to my grandmother, and get up to New York to visit her at least once.

Here’s hoping that I get around to doing at least some of these.

What’s your favorite spring tradition?

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It’s Monday! What Are You Reading? (March 12, 2018)

Happy, happy, happiest of birthdays to my big three-year-old guy!  I still can’t believe that Nugget has been with us for three whole years.  I know I’m a broken record on this point, but it really does seem like just yesterday that he was born.  This weekend was, of course, all about celebrating him.  We let him choose the activities all weekend long.  On Saturday, he wanted to hike, and Steve suggested Piscataway Park, since it’s fairly small, has nice views of the Potomac, and there are farm animals.  He had a ball, of course.  There was a brief lightsaber duel using sticks, but aside from that it was a very peaceful morning.  (I worked during naptime, but you have all probably guessed that already.)  His request for the evening was pizza delivery and a movie on the couch.  Somehow – I wasn’t present when the movie was selected – I walked into the room just in time to hear Robert Muldoon shouting “SHOOOOOOT HER!”  Jurassic Park, really?!  Peanut, who is surprisingly bloodthirsty, loved it, but Nugget was over it by the time the T-Rex started terrorizing Lex and Tim in the Jeep.  Ummmm.  Yeah.  Saw that coming.  We switched to Winnie-the-Pooh and he was happier.  On Sunday, his actual birthday, he asked to go to the zoo, so we all piled into the car and headed off for more animal fun.  As Steve said, the kids’ zoo-meters were on “full” after our morning – it seemed like we saw absolutely everything there was to see.  Lions, tiger, cheetahs, zebra, bison, gorillas, orangutans, pandas, elephants, sea lions, sloth bears, plus visits to Amazonia and the Reptile House (which always makes me think of Harry Potter).  We ended the weekend with a walk to the playground, a birthday dinner out in one of our favorite neighborhood restaurants, and takeaway gelato – all Nugget’s requests.  All in all, a pretty awesome weekend.  Nugget, in case you didn’t already know, is a really fun guy.

  

Reading.  Pretty busy reading week, I had.  I finished up Winter in Thrush Green early in the week – such a lovely, peaceful book.  I can’t get enough of Miss Read.  And I’m going to need her again soon because my next two reads were not at all peaceful.  In the latter half of the week, I read This Will Be My Undoing, which was a fascinating and illuminating essay collection about “living at the intersection of black, female, and feminist in (white) America” – as part of my ongoing mission to learn to be a good ally.  Finished that up on Friday and turned to – apparently I’m feeling extra political this week – Fire and Fury.  I know, I know, but everyone in D.C. is talking about it and I wanted to be part of the conversation.  I reserved it from the library and have been waiting more or less patiently for months.  And I know parts of it have been questioned or discredited, but if even a third of it is true – dayum.

Watching.  Well, there was the aforementioned Jurassic Park.  And on Friday night, Steve and I blazed through the final three episodes of the first season of The Good Place – such fun.  But the best thing I watched this week had to have been the delight and joy on Nugget’s face as he ripped open his birthday presents, explored the trail on his birthday hike, and rocketed around the zoo.  I think he had a great weekend, and I loved seeing him enjoy himself.  I’m so, so very glad that I have him.

Listening.  Honestly, y’all, I can’t remember what I listened to last week.  I know I listened to a few podcasts, but nothing is really jumping out as a highlight.  I’m thinking of switching back to Audible.  I have an audiobook of my favorite of the Anne series – Anne of the Island – and it’s calling my name.

Moving.  The most moving this week, like last week, was by air travel.  On Tuesday morning (6:30, bright and early!) I was taking off from D.C. on my way up to Boston for two days of meetings and hearings.  It was an exhausting trip, but there was one very bright spot – see below.  Other than that, I’ve already told you about my movement over the weekend – lots of kiddo-chasing on a hike and around the zoo.  (The National Zoo is built into a hill, so it’s actually a decent workout, walking around there.)

Blogging.  Spring list coming to you on Wednesday, and then on Friday I’m going to get controversial about Jane Austen.  You’re intrigued, aren’t you?  (It’s not that controversial.  Well, maybe.)

Loving.  Although my trip to Boston was short and hectic, and I was a bit grumpy about going at all, there was a highlight – I got to visit with Katie!  I haven’t seen her in more than five years, and it felt so good to get hugs and a cup of tea from both Katie and Jeremiah.  For awhile, it didn’t look like it was going to work out, because work had me running around until after 9:00 p.m. on Tuesday, and I had an early morning meeting on Wednesday and other assignments to squeeze in.  But I was determined, and fortunately Katie is a night owl, so at 9:30 p.m. I found myself curled up on her sofa with a cup of peppermint tea.  She gave me the tour of her lovely new(ish) apartment, and we chatted as fast as we could about everything under the sun – books, family, Boston, D.C., politics, tea, work, you name it – for two hours.  I feel so lucky whenever I get to visit with a faraway blog friend (like when I had dinner with A.M.B. last May in Philadelphia) and I left Katie’s house drooping with exhaustion but beaming with the gladness that comes of two hours with a dear friend.  Thanks again for the tea and sympathy, dear Katie!

Asking.  What are you reading this week?

by

You Are Three, You Are Loved

Dear Puppy,

In two days, you will be three years old!  Where does the time go?  You’re still a baby, aren’t you?  Yes, I say, but no, you say.  You’re a BIG MAN, according to you.  You want to do everything yourself.  Getting dressed, washing your hands, brushing your teeth, putting on your sneakers and your jacket, even buckling yourself into your car seat.  You’re a fiercely independent little fella, and I love your determination and your fire.

You are Daddy’s “buddy bear,” and Kelly’s “Prince Charming,” and Mommy’s “puppy.”  You are the sweetest, silliest, most hilarious little soul.  Twenty times a day, I catch myself gazing at you in wonder.  How can you possibly be so big and bright already?  Weren’t you just placed in my arms for the first time yesterday?  You were, and yet you weren’t.  But just last Sunday you fell asleep in my arms and napped on me on the couch, so you’re still a baby.

On to the things about you.  Your love of fire trucks is going strong – especially the trucks from the firehouse near our home.  You love nothing more than to walk or ride your bike over there, shoot the breeze with the firefighters, and inspect the vehicles.  You’ve amassed such a fleet of toy fire trucks that I can’t even count them anymore, and you even have two toy firehouses.  I love that you love trucks that help people and keep your neighborhood safe.  You have such a big heart.

A more recent love: gorillas.  You’re a big zoo fan and you love lots of animals, but gorillas and orangutans have your heart.  A trip to the zoo is not complete without a visit to the Great Ape House.  (Come spring, there will be a baby gorilla.  I can’t wait to see your eyes light up.)  You love to comment on what the apes are doing – especially Baraka, the gorilla, and Redd, the baby orangutan.  Your delight in them is infectious.

Then there’s soccer.  If you see a ball, you have to kick it.  (This has caused some problems – like when you kick someone else’s ball, or when you kick a playground ball into something suspicious and liquidy.)  You’re really athletic for such a little guy, and you can kick the ball halfway across the field if you want to.  The soccer field on our block is one of your happy places, and the big kids are so nice about letting you play with them when you come tripping up to the field, clutching your big sister’s soccer ball to your chest, all hopeful smiles and impatient feet.  The best is when the field is empty, though.  Then we run and run and kick and scream with laughter until we fall down exhausted.

I can’t even tell you how much your smiles light up my world.  And your mischievous smirks, and your sweet arms reaching up and around my neck.  “I love you, Mama.”  Or, “Pretend I’m Redd and you’re Batang.”

You’re shockingly smart.  Not to be all braggy, but – your brain is truly amazing.  You know more about orbital dynamics than most adults I know, and you’ll hold forth on the topic to the whole playground (while wearing your space shuttle cape backwards, of course).  Your vocabulary includes hydration, intransigent (you told your beloved nanny, Regular Kelly, that she was being intransigent the other day – sigh), echolocation, antagonize, paleontologist, and more.  People are always shocked at how clearly you speak and at the big words that come out of your little mouth.

You’re unabashedly you.  You love to put on your Darth Vader jammies and have a tea party (#KyloRen).  You adore Darth Vader and shout “Hey, it’s my buddy!” every time he’s on the TV screen – which is often, because you ask to watch Star Wars on a weekly basis.  (80% of your wardrobe, at least, is made up of fire truck and Star Wars-themed clothes, and you often request your “Master Yoda glow-in-the-dark” shirt.)

You love to be outdoors.  The outdoor world is your happy place and immediate cure for anything that troubles you.  If you wake up grumpy from your nap (bad dream?) I always know how to make it better – throw on your sweatshirt and sneakers and hustle out the door to play on the playground, kick the soccer ball, dig in the sandbox or just breathe fresh air.  You love nature, too.  You’re happy to hike on foot most of the time, these days, and you find opportunities to hike everywhere – from the dirt road at Mount Vernon to the bushes on the edge of your favorite playground.  When asked where you’re hiking, you always answer: “Shenandoah.”

You’re so very sweet.  You share your nanny with a baby girl, and you’re so very gentle and loving with her that your nanny is constantly getting asked if you and the baby are siblings.  You’re teaching the baby to crawl and you love to hold and kiss her.  You’re also crazy about your sister’s friends – especially her BFF, S, and another friend, C.  Really you’re just a dear kindhearted little spirit with so much love to give.  You’re forever hugging and kissing and reaching up to hold hands.

And you’re still a mama’s boy.  You are looking for me from the minute you wake up, and you’re in my arms every chance we both can get.  There is a special place in my heart reserved just for you and I must kiss your little cheeks a thousand times a day.  They say there’s nothing like the love between boys and their moms and I can attest to the truth in that.  You’re my treasure; you light up my life.  I really can’t see how the world muddled along for so many years without you, and I sure am glad you’re here now.

Happy birthday, my puppy.

Love,

Mommy