Y’know what this blog’s been missing?
A couple of things, actually. The first is photos. Because I made a decision a long time ago not to post pictures of The Who’s face here, it takes a bit of effort to get photos that are both interesting and blog-safe. I used to (and sometimes still do) take photos that explicitly avoided his face with the blog in mind, but I have been doing less of that lately. iPiccy is my dreamy boyfriend. But as dreamy as he is, he still requires some effort. Still, photos make everything better and it’s not fair to you that you’ve been subjected to a bunch of wordy posts without any shiny eye candy for your effort.
The other thing it’s missing is frequency. Blogs are best (to me) when they have a serial quality to them, a la Life With Roozle. Here are the things we’ve been doing and they’re interesting just because I’m writing about them in a regular sort of way (and including photos, thank you very much.)
So, here’s my pledge: more photos, more frequency.
(I feel like I’ve made this pledge before.)
Here are some of the things we did at the end of the summer.
We went to NYC to meet a friend, whom The Who has really only met once, but to whom, I think, he has an innate connection. On Saturday, March 22, 2008, I found myself at a birthday party next to a friend of a friend. We had both inseminated the week before and were both in the middle of the exact same two-week-wait. And now, these two boys, born less than a week and close to 100 miles apart got to meet for what was, for all intents and purposes, the first time. To see an off-broadway kids’ show that they are both now obsessed with.
That same weekend, we discovered the “Jewish Children’s Museum” in Crown Heights. We were clearly the oddballs there with our natural hair and ankles both in full view, but we had a ball. (A matzah ball, quite literally. I can really get behind a museum cafeteria that offers most of the fixings from my grandmother’s kitchen.) Here is The Who tucking his prayer (which he carefully wrote out) into the “Western Wall” at the back of the museum.
As we are wont to do, as soon as we are allowed, we took a hayride into the local apple orchard and picked a bushel. (Or a peck? A bunch? A boxful? I am unclear on these agrarian weights and measures.) It was hotter than I expected it to be that day and I was sure I was going to get stung by a bee in my armpit as I stood in the middle of the trees, reaching for the best of the Honeycrisp. (Yes! Honeycrisp! They’re usually picked out by the time we get there, but we managed to get the last of them this year.)
We’ve done sticker charts for a while now and, frankly, they’ve lost their appeal and their effectiveness. Pompoms (which I know are pompoNs, but it sounds like tampon and I refuse) are tactile and new and colorful. He is very motivated by the pompom jar and has already filled it once, earning himself glitter alphabet stickers, a glow stick, and mini decorative rolls of tape. (Thirty pompoms takes a while to earn; the prizes have to be worth it. They’re wrapped like presents, too. I’m a little jealous.)
So now you’re all caught up. I promise to keep doing stuff like this.