Just taking a nap at McDonald’s
Stop it, stop it, stop it!
Adelaide loves this show, Yo Gabba Gabba. Should I be concerned? Sometimes I think I secretly love it, too.
Adelaide says, “Good night, sleep tight!” and pretends to snore (once). That’s the cute part. I was too lazy to cut off the rest of the video. She just tucks in a bottle of Gold Bond (she also has a tube of diaper cream under the covers).
Adelaide does it again. She has an alphabet game on the iPad she likes to play. Every time she finishes a word she says, “I did it!”
I decided to start a separate blog for Adelaide’s pictures and videos to create a virtual scrapbook of sorts. Enjoy <3
Laidey started digging in some dirt with a salad spoon today. Every time she managed to fling a little dirt, she said, “I did it!”
Later on, she took off her own diaper and went potty on her little training potty. “I did it!”
She did it! So proud.
A few days ago, Adelaide was helping me carry some things out to the car when a plastic cup fell out of my grip and onto the concrete. “Shoot!” I said.
Later that day, Laidey dropped her sippy cup. “Shoo!” she said.
Then, just the other day, she pulled a chair into the kitchen while I was making cookies:
(Don’t worry, it’s a butter knife.)
Needless to say, Kyle and I have become increasingly aware of our little copycat.
Incidentally, the radio announcer talking in the background is eulogizing Mitch Miller, who passed away last week at the ripe old age of 99. I would like to include my own tribute to Mitch, whose record album covers always elicit smiles from Kyle and me when we inevitably find them in thrift stores.
I hope he’s singing along with the angels today.
Every Friday night for most of the year, there is a big street fair-slash-farmers’ market in downtown Monrovia. I love to go—it reminds me of going to the fair. There are lots of booths with people selling jewelry and crafts, but I usually skip all that and head to the back where the food starts. I usually don’t buy anything to eat, but I love smelling the smoky barbecue and the funnel cakes and freshly roasted peanuts and—perhaps the most fair-conjuring scent—mini donuts. I don’t want to eat the donuts, I just want to smell them.
Right past the food is the farmers’ market. I try to go every week to pick up fresh vegetables and support local produce. It makes me feel like a good person. But to tell the truth, I don’t know what the heck to do at a farmers’ market.
First of all, the growers are standing two feet in front of me, watching me touch all their produce. Obviously, I am a rookie, timidly picking up a piece of squash and trying to figure out a) what it is, and b) if I want to eat it.
Lynne Rossetto-Kasper from NPR’s The Splendid Table radio cooking show tells me to be adventurous, get something new, be curious, ask questions. So upon seeing some small tomato-like things in husks on a table, I asked one of the ladies, “What are these?” “Tomatillos.” “What do you use them for?” “Salsa.” Hm. Do I want to make salsa? No. “Okay, thanks.”
Growers often put out samples of cut fruit, and I always try some. Who knows when you might stumble upon the most amazing fruit hybrid ever? But after taking samples, I feel weird just walking away. It’s like saying, “That’s right, I tried your fruit. It was good. But not THAT good.” I feel like a snob.
I also feel like a snob when I ask if the produce is organic. Actually, I’ve never come out to ask someone if it’s organic, because I’d feel like a snob doing that. “Excuse me, is this organic? Because I only eat organic produce.” Sometimes they will have signs like “not sprayed with pesticides.” Is that the same thing?
Last awkward thing—I went to an organic fruit stand, sampled a pluot, liked the pluot, and decided to buy some pluots. “I would like three, please.” “Three pounds?” “Uh, no… just three.” “Just three?” “Okay, maybe four? Like a pound? I dunno, just give me a pound I guess.” I felt like Charlie Bucket from Willy Wonka where Charlie’s teacher is discussing percentages. “Two? Two! I can’t do just two. So let’s say you did 200.”
I’m sure I’ll get the hang of this farmer’s market thing. So far, I feel like it’s overrated. But I still like going, if only to smell the mini donuts.
Here’s what I came home with tonight:
What we have here is some sort of chile, some sort of Thai chile, some sort of stripey squash (zucchini?) some sort of weird looking lemon/lime squash, a cucumber, and two avocados.
I also got some nectarines and the aforementioned pound of pluots. Incidentally, when I told the dude what I wanted, he started picking them out and he said, “Do you want good ones?” “Nah, I want bad ones.” I smiled. “Just kidding.” I think he didn’t appreciate my sarcasm, because he didn’t do a great job picking my nectarines. On the other hand, he seemed like he was a kid on summer break who got pulled into helping out at the family fruit stand, so maybe he’s just a rookie like me.
I also brought this home:
She fell asleep literally five seconds before we walked in the door. And she’s been sleeping ever since… I should probably put her in bed.