From Westminster Abbey

Like many others, I've been thinking a lot about Kate Middleton lately. And I know that maybe its not the coolest, most progressive thing for a worldly hipster to care about a royal wedding or whatever. But I'm not hip. Therefore, I am very curious about her experience. At this very moment, she's probably sleeping in that fancy suite in London with her mom and sister. Is she sleeping? The night before her wedding to the future King of England?

The night before my wedding, I was so exhausted, but so keyed up. I shared a bed with my little sister Emma in an adorable cottage in the garden of an equally adorable B&B that was crammed with the rest of my family. I had a thousand things on my mind - so many people were headed our way for a big, meaningful ceremony and party. But, shoot, it wasn't all of the British Empire at Westminster Abbey.

But, yes, I know, not all of the British Empire will be craning their necks. So, imagine knowing that your big day will be scorned by anti-monarchists and other general poopy-pants haters.

Or, imagine that as of tomorrow, your job will be to make babies and those babies will be royalty.

Mostly, I think Kate is embodying the archetypal fairy tale for so many of us (duh). I just can't get over it. Her being so common and all. Imagine if your daughter were marrying the heir-apparent. Good lord. Imagine if your in-laws were monarchs. Mercy. But who are we kidding. How many of us populated our own versions of that fate? Way back before we went to college and developed our Feminist selves. How many times have I read The Twelve Dancing Princesses. Or sank gleefully into the gothic gorgeousness of Disney's Sleeping Beauty? I am SO EXCITED for tomorrow!!!

But, no, I'll not be getting up at the crack to watch it in real time. My sleep is too precious. Unless I'm up already by then, which is entirely possible.

Argyle and Bunny

Happy Egg Salad Day to you!!!

My, we had a lovely weekend. Dadda and Buckaroo took an early Saturday morn walk with Grandpa along Padilla Bay, which gave me a lovely hour and a half of quiet snoozing and reading.

Also on Saturday, we got a little bit dressed up and went up to Bellingham to attend the most lovely open house Spring Celebration at our friend Chelsea's parents' house. My goodness, what an inspiring garden. And Olivier the Bunny was there!!! Buckaroo was a bit nonplussed about the bunny, which surprised me. But the photos are cute:



The sunshine, the setting, the delicious nosh, it all felt like a springtime wedding. Really uplifting.





After we nibbled and wandered (a peacock! a babbling brook! an old dog named Sophie! bow wow!), we went to the front garden for some egg hunting. Buckaroo got the hang of egg-in-basket. He's brilliant.





Sunday we puttered and cooked, and then welcomed Grandma and Grandpa for a yummy Easter Brunch. I made the friggin best beet and chevre salad. A triumph.

Later, we went outside in the drizzle to find that the Easter Bunny had been to our house!! More fun with Buckaroo and the basket. Until. Until he bonked his nose on the raised garden bed and got a bloody nose!!! Poor guy. I fretted and fussed; Dadda took photos. Rachel, once again I find a similarity between our husbands. What is it with photographing blood and gore?

Dadda and Grandma assured momma that baby was fine. It was a very brief bloody nose, and surely the first of many. Whew.

Finally, we come to my favorite part of the commercial aspect of this holiday:


I just love these dumb Robin Eggs. They're basically Whoppers, I guess. I like to bite them in half and suck the malt insides. Weird and stuff. But this year's batch are very mediocre. FYI.

Well, today we had delicious egg salad sandwiches for lunch. My secret is a healthy pinch of curry powder. Turns out my baby loves egg salad, which is a relief. We both have snotty head colds and wish that it weren't dumping rain. But, let's all say it together: April showers bring May flowers. Dammit.

xoxonellie

Comin' and Goin'

Buckaroo and I took a walk to the post office today. The day started out rainy, but the sun jumped out and I decided to try to put him in the ergo-backpack all by my self. We were successful. It was stressful and I fumbled a bit and sweated a lot, but he was really cooperative and held tight like a monkey. Anyway, we were walking to the post office, which is a mile down the road. Its a narrow, curvy, country road with hardly a shoulder to speak of. I chose to walk on the side with the most shoulder, which had me walking with traffic.

So, on we're walking, looking at dogs (bow wow!) and cows (oooo! oooo! - buckaroo won't make the 'm' sound yet.) and cats (eow! eow!). Along comes a fella, walking towards us. He's obviously been walking since early in the day, he was too warmly dressed for the weather - or he was a bit nuts. But I was trying not to judge. But I was judging because now I'm a MOM and I will FIGHT people if I need to protect my child, and so I was preparing to fight him. But really I just said:

"Hi! How you doin' today?"

And he said:

"Hello! Um, just so you know..."

oh great. he wants to tell us some crazy theory about the government. or he wants to ask for money. or he's going to tell me I'm the devil.

"...just so you know, it's a $52 fine for not walking against traffic...."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I got a ticket last year down the road for walking on the wrong side."

"How annoying!"

"Yeah, and I know you're just walking on the side with the bigger shoulder and stuff because its safer..."

"Exactly!"

"...yeah, I was too. But I just thought you should know."

"Thank you so much!"

"No problem. You have a good day."

I crossed the road and walked on the correct side. This poor guy. I mean, its very likely he is semi-homeless. He was missing at least one tooth in front. He was not an old guy. And he did not look crazy in the eyes. He's basically on the verge of being a hobo. And who knows if its by choice or not. But I bet he walks because he can't afford a car. Or because he's choosing a simple life. And on top of it, he gets a ticket for walking down the road. What a shitty day that must have been for him. Can't win for trying, or something.

I'm grateful he was nice and informative. We continued to have a lovely walk, and a lovely day.

Good night,
Nellie

Domesticus Maximus

Yes, we are in week 4 of Momma Goes To Work and Buckaroo Goes To Daycare. My tummy hurts a bit if I reflect too much, but suffice to say we're doing pretty well. I like my job, it very unstressful. I think Buckaroo likes daycare. I certainly like Buckaroo's daycare. We are still very much in the tearful goodbyes stage. I am told repeatedly by various knowing persons that it is harder on the mommy. Ech, anyway. I'm just doing one-foot-in-front-of-the-other right now and will have deep thoughts for you later. Maybe.

What with the compensatory levels of t.l.c. for my babe, and the stomach bug we fought, I found myself offering too much of myself to the little stinker too often at night. Again. And I started falling apart. Again. My dear good consistent annoyed husband. Bless him. Anyway, we're on the right track again, after some tearful, fussy nights of truth for the babe. And, my point here, is that I found a bit of clear-headedness the other day and made a very good decision. And here it is:



I decided to make a cake. My maternal grandmother's chocolate cake recipe. Evidently she made this, like, weekly. I cannot imagine how pudgy I would be if that happened around here. Regardless, mine is most superb because I happened only to have dark chocolate cocoa in the house. It is ridiculously good. I've given a good deal of the cake to the neighbors because it would all be in my stomach if it were here. Or my husband and I would be arguing over it like 8 year olds.

Here's you facing a huge wall of superb dark chocolate cake:



I've commandeered Woodworker's camera and am feeling a sort of revival. I need to catch up on my memorykeeping here. But right now its time for Jeopardy. Good night.