Always Remember That

Regardless of who you're voting for this election, you have to admit this is amazing: Amanda Jones, 109, the daughter of a man born into slavery, has lived a life long enough to touch three centuries. And after voting consistently as a Democrat for 70 years, she has voted early for the country's first black presidential nominee. Full story here.

I wrote a post a few weeks ago but didn't publish it because I kept forgetting to upload the pictures off my camera. I finally got it done tonight but for some reason it posted it way down on the page without updating the date. If you'd like to read it, clic here.

Funny: According to Phoebe, the song goes: "On the elf day of Christmas, my julep gave to me..." Phoebe said to Chris the other night, "Daddy, can you walk?" "Can I walk? Sure." "No, walk !" "Do you mean, like, take a walk?" "No, I mean, wock the paw-ty!" Not Funny: I have strep throat again. One of the possible side effects of penicillin -- the development of a black, hairy tongue. This is "unusual, harmless, and will dissipate when the course of medication ceases" but still, ew. The way my luck is running, this will be the side effect that happens to me. Also Not Funny: Parents who ruin the Tooth Fairy for the rest of us. Not by denying its existence, but by overdoing the whole thing. Mallory lost a tooth yesterday; when she put it in her tooth pillow she said, "I really hope I get a Camp Rock microphone!" I said, "The Tooth Fairy doesn't bring toys, she brings money." Mallory said, "We...

[While getting into the car yesterday afternoon] Mallory: Hey Mommy, did you know, that if you don't listen to Hannah Montana music on the ipod when you're the in car, you can listen to other stuff? Me: I did know that. Mallory: And sometimes, if you just turn on the radio, you can hear people talking about stuff. Me: Yes? Mallory: Yeah, they talk about important stuff, stuff that happens all over the world. Me: Yes, that's called the news . Mallory: Yeah, the news. And sometimes they will tell you things about those guys who are running for president. Me: Yes, that's true. Mallory: Well, I wanted you to know that, because I wouldn't want you to miss that stuff. Me: Thank you. Mallory: So, can we listen to Hannah Montana music now? Me: ...Sure. Early voting is happening right now in NC! I'm going to do a quick study of the local stuff on the ballot and try to vote tomorrow. Yay!

Much against our better judgment, Chris and I took the children to the State Fair yesterday afternoon. We had previously eschewed the experience, preferring to spend our money on things other than sketchily-maintained carnival rides and deep-fried twinkies, and not particularly enjoying being in the same square acre of land with eighty thousand other people at the same time. Alas, this year Mallory's class discussed the fair, bringing its existence into her awareness, so I capitulated to her demands to go. Our State Fair experience began inauspiciously, with Mallory, Phoebe and I waiting for almost an hour for a bus in the Park and Ride lot, even though we arrived within minutes of the first scheduled shuttle. "When is the bus coming? Will it hurt my ears?" Mallory asked many times, while Phoebe whined that her legs were tired and she simply had to be held needed to "put my head on your shoulder, Mommy." The bus, once it arrived, featured a piercing alarm which ...

Several weekends ago, our little family traveled to historic Belmont, North Carolina, to attend the wedding of some friends. The wedding itself was lovely and featured the most original entertainment I’ve ever beheld at a matrimonial event. It was, however, the comments of my children that made the event truly worthwhile (that seems to be the case with most things, actually). For example: Mallory showed her deep love of hotels by taking a deep breath and exclaiming, every time we entered the lobby: “Smell that hotel goodness!” Whilst driving through the unfamiliar streets of Belmont on the way to the rehearsal dinner, Mallory spied a Burger King. “Ugh!” she said. “I hate Burger King fries!” “Yeah!” said Chris, agreeing heartily. “Burger King fries are the worst.” “They’re yucky!” Mallory said. “They’re disgusting!” Chris added. “Actually,” Phoebe interjected, “I like Burger King onion rings.” “Now the onion rings are okay,” Chris conceded. “Yeah, but not the fries. Ewww,” Mallory said...

First, thank you all for your kind words about Finn. The girls have been pretty unconcerned about her absence, which is kind of a relief. I'm sadder than I ever thought I would be and keep expecting to see her when I glance out the back door or open the dishwasher (she liked to lick up the crumbs), and I certainly miss her when Phoebe spills crumbs all over the floor. It's odd to be a dogless family now. But, we go on. And I have a pressing question about making quick breads -- banana, pumpkin, and the like. Whenever I make these concoctions, they turn out kind of...flat. A loaf of my banana bread is only about two inches high, which just seems a bit wrong. What am I doing wrong? What can I do to get it to rise higher in the pan? Advice appreciated.

When we brought you home from the shelter, eight years ago, you were very timid. I'm not sure what your former owners did to you, other than abandon you, but it took you a while to trust that you were with us to stay. After a few weeks, you began to play, and give us kisses, and you loved our walks around the neighborhood. You were the prettiest dog on the block; everyone said so. When our down-the-street neighbor said, "You're doing a great job with her, she's come a long way," I was filled with pride for you. One night you ran away from home. We looked for you for hours, up and down the streets of downtown Durham, and then went home, bereft. At 3 a.m. we heard a wild barking at the front door, and there you were, covered in mud and wagging all over. I don't know if you were so happy because of your romp or because you'd managed to find your way home. We loved you so much we decided to get another dog just like you. What we ended up with was Zack. Zack wa...

This post is going to make me look a bit like a neurotic idiot, but the truth had to come out sometime, right? Three years ago, I took Mallory to her preschool orientation. Phoebe was a wee little thing, about two months old, and I toted her along in a sling. (Loved the sling, by the way; I think Phoebe spent much of the first four months of her life in that thing.) A mother of one of Mallory’s new classmates approached me and cooed over Phoebe, and then mentioned that she had a month-old baby at home. (Let’s call the mom Anne and the baby Sarah. Because why not.) Then she said, “I love your sling…is it easy to nurse while you wear it?” “Actually, I don’t –“ I began, and she cut in and said, “Oh, you don’t—“ and then Mallory came over and needed me and I never got to finish the conversation with Anne. And for three years, I’ve worried about that conversation. What I had been planning to say was that I never nursed Phoebe in the sling because nursing Phoebe successfully required a stack...

Some shots with my new camera. Phoebe has amazing powers of concentration for a 3-year-old. She sat working on her chalk painting for twenty minutes, oblivious of everything going on around her, talking to herself to whole while. Her teachers say she loses herself in her imagination more intensely than any other child in her class. Mallory is in a very awkward stage of growing out her bangs. When she lets me put her hair up, she looks adorable. Is it awful of me to say that I think I have pretty daughters? I guess the contrary is true; they should never doubt that I find them beautiful.