Friday, November 18, 2011
I have a stubborn little rosebush by my front door, still blooming in the crisp death of November. Every few days it shows forth another bloom and fills my heart with joy.
May we be like stubborn roses, filling the world with fresh delight in the harshness of autumn.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
|Will this be the Little Alien and me in three years?|
I and my ravenous babe-in-utero find ourselves on the prowl for food any time from midnight on, most nights. These foraging missions may result in a bowl full of cereal and resultant heartburn or in (if I'm lucky) an apple and sweet sleep. By far, though, our go-to midnight snack is wheat thins, rescued from the crackling bag at imminent risk of waking my slumbering sweetheart, and consumed in bed gratefully. Baby starts kicking and I (hopefully) make it back to my interrupted dreams without too much hassle.
But oh, the crumbs in the bed! Oh, the scratchy remnants of wheat thins long gone, carving their shapes into my tender skin! And oh, the incessant irritation of having finally found a comfortable place for my husband, my huge belly, and myself, only to realize a full sheet-sweep needs to take place!
I hate crumbs in the bed.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
But look at this picture! Clear swirls of honey highlighting the rough natural peanut butter. Crusty homemade bread. A glass of clean white milk. And a rose, for contrast.
Try it! You might find yourself surprised.
How do you like to shake up the peanut butter sandwich stereotype?
And, for amusement, I must include this Raffi song--he makes me aspire to play the kazoo.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
What do you think?
Monday, November 14, 2011
Oh Bran Flakes, how you fill me with satifying satiation when all else fails! You are the companion of my midnight munchies, the fellow of my desperate breakfasts, the sidekick of my stomach. You bring peace to the howling maw within me and time and again you always taste delicious. You make the little one in my midsection feel acrobatic and try to kick you off my belly and cover me with milk.
I hope we remain old friends, dear Bran Flakes, in spite of the fact that I always eat you.