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Tuesday, August 14, 2018

Tired and feathered

Today was weird. Seattle is smoky from all of the wild fires. It's opaque outside. Opaque! It has the illusion of a cloudy autumn day, only without the crispness. Without the oxygen. But it's 86 degrees. We're suffocating! Make it stop! Stop this madness!

See? Opaque!


Something else that has been unnerving me lately is the fact that my parents' backyard is being littered with crow feathers. My dad tells me he picks "at least 20 to 30 feathers a day" off the lawn. Is this normal?

While I'm on the subject, let's settle a bet. Are feathers filthy, plague-ridden animal parts not to be touched? Or are they fun, tickly adornments for the tops of sand castles? I grew up believing the latter and I think I'm going to keep that opinion no matter how much I'm presented evidence of the contrary.

I gotta go. I'm tired. The haze has me in a weird mood and there's only one cure: cleaning the living room while I listen to a podcast!!!!

Until next time,
Margaret

P.S. Martha can now say "podcast." She is an intellectual.
P.P.S. She can also say "pancake." Sounds the same as "podcast."

Saturday, August 4, 2018

Toddler Blues

Today, after a week of single-parenting while Andy is in England, I took Martha to Kelsey Creek Farm in Bellevue. There are sheep, pigs, cows, horses—all of the animals from her books, alive in the flesh. What a fantastic final hurrah to our week of mother-daughter bonding!

Martha sat in the gravel pathway and ate rocks.

A few minutes later, she found a set of steps near the sensory garden and climbed up and down them four times.

One of the horses did manage to hold her attention for a bit. She reached out and offered him a rock. I grabbed her hand away from the beast's giant teeth and she cried.



I have decided to gradually start blogging again, while making no promises and keeping expectations low. I probably shouldn't have even written that sentence.

Over the past month I've fallen back in, and then back out, of love with blue cheese. Throughout July it blanketed my salads, filled my MorningStar Farms® Chik'n Nugget pitas and even replaced cream cheese on my bagels.

Andy and I went out to dinner last weekend and I ordered a cobb salad.

"Instead of the bacon and chicken, can I just get extra blue cheese?" I asked, knowing the answer would be yes, for this is America after all.

Andy, who enjoys foods in moderation, looked at me in disgust.

But sadly, my Stilton love affair is over. I made the mistake of buying Trader Joe's blue cheese and after a few helpings, something switched. The tanginess was too tangy. The closer to the rind, the more disgusting. Even writing this now, I'm on the verge of throwing up.

Worst thing is, I smell blue cheese everywhere I go. I've been washing my hands all afternoon and still can't scour the stench off my fingers. I'm the Lady Macbeth of poor dairy choices, haunted and sick to my stomach.

Barfing emoji!

Sincerely,
Margaret


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