Monday Again

Time for a menagerie of miscellanea and some manic linkage to things that tickle me. Happy new week!

Small Town Interests
Gabriela has shared some great photos of the shrimp heroes of Small Town, Mexico, and it made me laugh. Also reminded me of a little-known but nonetheless fascinating festival that coincidentally just happened in my Grandma's hometown, celebrating a headless chicken. You've got to check it out. Really.

He Who Has Ears To Hear
Yesterday in church, Calvin learned that God gave us our giant purple ears. He wore them home and when I asked, "So did you learn what we can do with our ears?" Cal said, really exasperated, "We can HEAR with them, Mom. That's all." Allrightie then. I guess he won't be making a list of "Things Our Ears Can Do."
One Sweats, One Sleeps
Henry started going to the church nursery when he was 18 months old and most often ended up back on David's lap in the adult Sunday School because he cried and cried. Once David had him, he fell promptly asleep. Our church time is from noon to 3, and Henry is a religious napper (pun intended, but the description is accurate) since birth, so it makes sense that he'd rather sleep at that time than play. About six or seven weeks ago, he went in to the nursery, played fine for a few minutes, fussed when he felt tired (just enough for one of the nursery ladies to pick him up and hold him, but not enough to warrant taking him to Dad), then he almost immediately crashed on her shoulder, and she laid him down in a corner of the very noisy room where he slept soundly for the rest of the time. He has done the same exact thing every Sunday since then! A couple Sundays ago we started bringing his favorite blankie ("Fringies"), and I am now starting to think it might be a kind of Pavlov's dog reaction or a coping mechanism. It will be interesting to see if he does it when nursery is at a time that doesn't coincide with regular naptime. Hmmmmm...

A Good Book
David, with some minor trepidation, gave me this book for Mother's Day, and I just finished it Friday. It's a real thinking book, whatever you may have heard or think of Caitlin Flanagan. The last chapter in and of itself is worth reading - I cried. And I got a kick out of her examination of the clutter control culture and our fascination with Martha Stewart. That had my name all over it. Mostly, it fits Calvin's summary when he asked me, "Hey, is that book about a mom holding up the house?" Yep. So, if you want something a little analytical, somewhat humorous, a little feminist and a little anti-feminist all at the same time to read, I recommend this. It cured my ill-humor and I actually had something coherent to talk about with David at dinnertime.

A Yummy Meal Coming
I just put some chicken breasts (is that word gonna get me Googled in a bad way?) in a marinade of lemon juice, olive oil, garlic, pepper and salt and it looks awesome. I'm gonna make David grill it when he gets home, and if the recipe's a keeper, I'll share it with you tomorrow. Mmm, mmm, mmm. And I thought to do it before 4 p.m. when the boys are "enjoying" arsenic hour and I am "done," whether dinner is or not. This could count as one more moment of glory in the chronicles of my housewifery. (BTW, that link mentions another great small town festival, if you enjoyed the story of Mike from the first paragraph of this post.)

The Countdown
David leaves in a crazy short amount of time. I try not to think of it too much, but it's right around the corner. In the meantime, however, we are going to bite our nails for Katherine and Taylor (I don't know who I want to win!), build the boys a sandbox, rearrange lots of furniture, visit another great park somewhere around here, and I'm going with a group of ladies from church to see a production of Pericles at an amphitheatre downtown. Will I not be excessively diverted? (That's my best Jane Austenese.)