A Boy and Girl Party
Mikey has a best friend named Zach. They have plans to build a dinosaur museum after they become famous paleontologists. Did you know there has never been a complete skeleton found of the Seismosaurus, a Sauropod that may have been the largest dinosaur to walk the earth? Mikey knows, and so does Zach. They plan to unearth the first complete Seismosaurus skeleton and use the reward money (?) to build their museum. On top of supplying and managing the exhibits, they will also be chefs at The Dino Diner, the world’s first and only restaurant inside a museum. (Not really, but I’m not one to crush dreams. I’ll leave that to the high school guidance counselors.)
Zach is funny. Zach is smart. Zach is athletic. Zach likes dinosaurs and BeyBlades and Star Wars. In Mikey’s eyes, Zach can do no wrong except for one thing. He is also best friends with Emma. You know. Emma. And for all his book smarts and analytical skills, Mikey can’t see the draw.
“Mom. Today Emma wanted us to go play on the swings. WHAT IS SHE TALKING ABOUT?!”
“Mom. Emma always wants to sit next to Zach, but we can’t work on our museum blueprints with her sitting in the middle!”
“Mom. Emma thinks she knows everything. She doesn’t even listen to me when I tell her she’s wrong.”
One year later, and he still has no clue.
With the school year winding down, there are rumblings of future playdates and trips to dinosaur museums. Zach says he wants to invite both Mikey and Emma, since they are both his best friends. Mikey took the news in stride.
Giveaway Winners, Food Poisoning
I have the winners for The Everlasting Meal giveaway:
I’ll contact you shortly to get your address if I don’t hear from you first, not that I ever want to think about food ever again. On Saturday I bought what is, quite possibly, my dream rug. I was so excited that I convinced the Mister to come with me to IKEA to get rug pads. My mom agreed to watch the boys and give them dinner, so off we went. Thanks to traffic, we didn’t get home until almost 7:30, at which point we were starving. We debated going out to dinner, but I said (famous last words), “I would love to, but let’s be good and eat at home. We can put the money we save towards the trip to Rome.”
So we went to Target to return a rug and by steaks and potatoes. (Our Target has a grocery.) We thought we were being slick knocking out errands in one stop, but we couldn’t return the rug and the potatoes made us sick.
So sick.
We felt fine until we woke up Sunday morning. I couldn’t go to church, but the Mister tried. He made is half way through the mass (“I could smell the perfume of every single old lady there, and it made me want to puke.”) before he pulled Mikey out of the choir and headed home–with a stop at a gas station bathroom on the way.
So, so sick.
We know it was the potatoes, and figure the skins were tainted in the same way spinach or other vegetables get contaminated. We’re both bitter. To get food poisoning as bad as we did from a scrubbed baked potato seems monumentally unfair. Fried fish, tacos, greasy Chinese food, sushi, and even old pizza: these are the foods that are supposed lay you out on the cold floor of your bathroom floor. There’s a certain balance, and fairness to the pain. You bite into fried shrimp knowing, in a small way, that the crunchy, hot exterior may later rip your gastrointestinal system to shreds.
But a scrubbed potato zapped in the microwave and topped with a modest amount of organic butter? That’s just not right.
Stuff Mikey Says, Vol. 5
On politics
“If Martin Luther King Jr. was still alive, he’d make a great president.”
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On antibiotics
“This tastes like rotten apples dipped in ashes, tossed in a fire.”
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On possessions
“Books are the only thing you can’t have too many of.”
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On ice cream
“I don’t need it, but I certainly enjoy eating it.”
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On love
“Of course God is #1. Then my family. Wii is definitely #17.”
The Meaning of Lavender
Do you ever think about colors? I do. Occasionally, of course. I don’t sit around, day in and day out, staring at the walls thinking purplepurplepurple. But every now and then I will see a color that strikes me, or I will find myself drawn to a color or shade over time and wonder why people like the colors they do and what, if anything, that symbolizes. Sometimes a color will repeat itself incessantly until I have no choice but to notice. The weekend sifted shades of lavender.
I picked up the flowers for Helena’s party. Bells of Ireland, dahlias, plum hydrangeas, and purple roses named Blue Moon (I asked). The next day, we ate lunch under yards and yards of wisteria.
I went to IKEA on Sunday to buy supplies for this week’s William Morris Project. These lilac colored pots ended up in my cart. They look quite sharp with all the cream and black in our kitchen. I hope they perform as well elsewhere, because they’re meant for our entryway.
I looked up the meaning of the color lavender, and it suggests “refinement along with grace, elegance, and something special.” Spending time with friends this weekend was definitely something special, so maybe that’s why all I saw was lavender.
Sick Leave
No William Morris post tomorrow. There is a wicked fever+cold going around the school moms, and I cockily thought I was immune since I was sick in February. It appears I’m not immune. I’m going to go back to bed, which should be interesting since both boys are home with me. You’ve been there with me, right? Sick but still having to do things, like parenting? Ugh.
