I've been promising her some. Now I just need to get it to her. It's so easy to send cookies across the street to Renee (I sent her some, too). Denise is 15 minutes away. Stay tuned: I will manage that. Maybe I just need to throw the kids in the car and head over there.
I was hoping to make Classic Shortbread, page 109, this month. Robert Burns' birthday is Jan. 25; also, we're approaching the observation of Imbolc and the season of Brigit--the ancient goddess of early spring, new beginnings, and the hearth and home. Shortbread was traditionally made this time of year in the British Isles, particularly the kind I made: round with crimped edges to represent the rays of the sun, which is reborn at midwinter.
Speaking of crimped edges, James caught me red-handed with my shiny new tart pan. Bah! The man is such a tightwad. Come to think of it, he was born in Scotland.
I worked at home today due to school closures. Happy MLK Day! Noah came over to play with Christian. It's nice to see him again; the boys seem to be getting along fine. My fears that they'd never be friends again were unfounded. I knew I should have known better.
As for Christian, he's in quite a bit of pain--he ran into someone's head at soccer practice on Saturday, putting his teeth through his lip. Again. He walks around here drooling and whimpering, holding an ice pack to his mouth. We keep explaining that the ice works only right after the injury to reduce swelling. But he's 10. We can't tell him anything.What with all the dripping Ziploc bags of ice, it's probably good that school was closed today. But, that did mean I had to work at home. I appreciate the freedom to do that when needed. It makes my life as a working mom much easier. But there are days. Such as today.
After working and chasing kids out of the office all day, I was a little frazzled. Then, I had a 2 p.m. conference call. But I had to leave at 2:15 to take Christian to soccer practice. Hmm. Did I mention that my boss' boss was running the call? That was a first for me. And meant I had to be on my best conference-call behavior. None of that hiding in the bathtub with the phone in one ear and a finger in the other while a child pounds on the locked bathroom door.
So I participated on my cell phone while driving, even though I really should have been taking notes. I had two loud, needy and stubborn boys in the backseat (the term "I'm on the phone" to them means "talk louder"). Thank God for the mute button.
Somehow, I managed to follow a conversation occurring in Portland while arguing with the soccer field parking attendant. (No, I'm not paying $5 for parking in order to escort my 10-year-old into the soccer facility, and no, I'm not dropping him off at the curb. You can kiss my ass.)
As excited as I am to see Barack sworn in tomorrow, I know the truth: That man is able to become president only because his wife handles all the details.
After a day at home I'm pretty pumped about going to the office tomorrow. But I feel for Barack. While he's at work for the next four years? His family will be right upstairs.
Well, hell's bells. It's 7 p.m. And I still need to vacuum out my car, clean Ian's room, finish the dishes and kick the kids off the TV. Not physically off--you know what I mean. I don't think I'll make it to Denise's tonight. Tomorrow! Shortbread only gets better with age, right?
seriously? Hubby is whining about a new tart pan?? I say, just quietly keep a list of his purchases... ;-) handy ammo for future
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