Always Remember That

I read an article this week about entomophagy -- eating bugs. Apparently, 80% of the world's peoples eat insects, Western Europe and North America being the main holdouts. Bugs are nutritious -- full of protein and other essential nutrients. Bugs are versatile -- you can fry them in butter, you can grind them into flour, you can dip them in chocolate, you can make them into a BeeLT sandwich (really). Bugs are, according to sources in this article, delicious, reportedly tasting like shrimp (which are also bugs, only from the sea), chicken, bacon, or scrambled eggs. Bugs are, importantly, sustainable -- farming bugs results in a very small carbon footprint; they're already numerous; there are no worries about humane treatment because bugs like crowded conditions and filth. Ironically, many countries where eating bugs has been the norm for centuries are now planting "Western" crops such as corn and wheat, which are arguably less nutritious and digestible than insects,...

Yesterday I was working on a new crochet project (will show off when finished), but the skein of yarn I was using was a snarly mess. Every other stitch I was having to yank and pull and curse to get another couple of inches of yarn. I finally decided to unravel the skein from the other end and unknot it going backwards. Hours later, I was still working on the stupid yarn. I ignored my children’s pleas of hunger and even forgot to get Mallory started on part of her Enormous School Project of Doom (due in April, luckily, not today). I was determined to unknot that yarn. As I fought with it, I recalled another time in my life when I committed to a similarly Sisyphean task. When I was maybe eight or nine years old, I found a golf ball with a nicked cover in our yard. Before, it had never occurred to me to wonder what was under the outer cover of a golf ball, but seeing this damaged one made me curious. I picked at the opening – less than the size of a dime, probably – to try to peel i...

The other night I was walking behind Phoebe as she rode her bike around the block. She learned the trick of standing up on the pedals to go faster. She shouted: "Mommy, I'm on fire!" And then clarified: "I'm on girl fire! Do you know what's in girl fire, Mommy?" "No, what?" I asked. "Sequins! And peace signs! And hearts! And flowers and lots and lots of PINK!"

I haven’t written in so long that I don’t know where to begin. That implies that a lot has happened since the last time I wrote, which isn’t true; in fact, very little has happened, which is partly why I haven’t written. It’s more that once you stop writing, it’s hard to get back in the habit. So, today, a random collection of thoughts. Girl Scouts has begun! After two meetings for each troop, I’ve come to the not-so-surprising conclusion that first graders are far more easily entertained than third and fourth graders. Cold front coming Friday! It’s not even going to hit 65. This raises the clothing problem. I have summer clothes (which I am so sick of; if I have to wear one particular pair of black capri pants ever again I will scream) and I have sweaters; I have nothing in between. Least favorite parts of the day: Loading and unloading the car. The backpacks! With their water bottles that always fall out! The lunchboxes! The bag of clothes to wear after school, the books for ...