A short conversation at bedtime

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R: Why is it called a dresser?

Me: I don’t know.

R: If it is called a dresser, it should have dresses. *starts laughing*

Me. Yup.

R: And if it has shirts it should be a shirter, and if it has pants it should be a panter, and if it has socks it should be a socker…

Me: *changing diaper* Mm-hmm.

R: …and if it has shoes it should be a shoer, and if it has sweaters it should be a sweaterer, and if it has swimsuits it should be a swimsuiter…

Children are nothing if not creative.

I started cooking again today

I really enjoy cooking, but I haven’t really done any of it for the past month or two. Tonight I decided to give it a go. I’m pleased with how well it turned out, so now I get to go on the internet and brag a little bit. I apologize for the poor quality pictures though. I know that there are at least one or two people who read this and also know something about photography, so my junky cell phone pics might be a bit painful. Just avert your eyes if you have to.

I decided to roast a chicken for the main part of the meal. If you’ve never done it, it’s really sim…I mean it’s hard. Very, very hard. You should all be impressed. I used a recipe by Marcella Hazan–“roast chicken with two lemons.” (As a side note, if you don’t have her cookbook, Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking,¬†you really should pick it up. There are tons of easy recipes that taste amazing.)

So for the first two junky pictures, here’s what the finished product looked like, even after some minor screw-ups:


Yes, R is wearing a life jacket. No, I don’t know why.


Here is a shot of just the chicken. One of the lemons popped out, so it kind of looks like it laid an egg.

I made some mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli, and I set out some plums to go with everything. It was a nice meal. For dessert I made a banana pudding. It’s actually a pretty good dessert to make with kids, because you have to layer the Vanilla Wafers and bananas, which kids can totally do.


It’s a little hard to see, but it’s topped with meringue, not like marshmallows or some other disgusting thing.

I’m also happy¬†about the fact that I have a medium sized container of leftover chicken in the fridge which I can use for another meal (Mexican, fried rice, chicken salad sandwiches, etc.) In addition to that, I have a pot boiling down the bones and some vegetables to make a stock for a soup or something later in the week.

I know that I’m being super vain, which is probably annoying. Sorry. I feel like I only recently discovered that this was a thing that you could actually do, and I’m super excited about getting at least three meals from one chicken. I think it’s one of those skills that has somewhat died out with modern convenience food, but it’s seriously not that difficult. You should all try it out. If you do, let me know how it goes.

O were my love yon Lilac fair…

Bonnie and Me Lilacs

Bonnie and me looking younger and thinner…

By now I assume that anyone reading this already knows that Bonnie passed away ten days ago. We had the funeral Wednesday, and I still feel like I’m trying to process everything. I expect that feeling will persist for months or even years. I had a long time to plan and prepare for this, but it’s still totally devastating and life-altering.

It’s what I imagine losing a limb would be like. You keep expecting it to be there. If you’re not thinking about it you sometimes forget that it’s gone. I’ve heard of people having a phantom pain in a missing limb, and I think they might have some idea what it’s like to wake up and look over to Bonnie’s side of the bed and remember that she’s not there anymore–that she won’t be there ever again. A part of me is gone, and I’m not sure that I’ll ever feel completely whole again.

I do believe in the resurrection. Life would be too pointless and cruel without it. However, that belief doesn’t seem to mean that I’m spared from the pain of loss. As with most things in my life, art and music seem to be the most readily available sources of comfort. I’ve been thinking a lot about this poem by Robert Burns, so I thought I’d share it:

O were my love yon Lilac fair,
Wi’ purple blossoms to the Spring,
And I, a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing!
How I wad mourn when it was torn
By Autumn wild, and Winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing,
When youthfu’ May its bloom renew’d.

That’s only the first stanza, but it’s the one I like the best. I don’t actually know if Robert Burns was religious or not, but if my excessive time in academia has taught me anything, it’s that any one thing can mean any other thing if you want it to. So for me this makes me think of the resurrection. I love the imagery of separation and reunion in the poem. I can identify with the bird being cut off from its shelter through the rude winter, and, like the bird, singing will be high up on my list when I see my fair lilac once again.