Our pack & play has a little zippered opening in the side. It’s so you can access a storage insert that is used early on, when it serves more as a bassinet than as a holding pen. (or as we sometimes call it, baby jail)
This afternoon, just for s’s and g’s, I unzipped the opening, to see if Zooey would venture in.
She did, and promptly got stuck. She stood in there, yelling like she does when I’ve banished her there while I vacuum or work out. After a minute or so, I stopped laughing, picked her up and set her down outside. She went right back in, but something must have clicked…
…because she spent the next five minutes crawling in and out, again and again.
Quick learner, that one.
Our elliptical machine broke last week, and today I got the replacement part in the mail. I spent most of afternoon nap time putting it back together. And now it’s all fixed.
It’s always a huge pain to fix or put together this kind of thing. We had an incident with Ikea dressers about a year ago that still stings today. It seems something always goes at least a little wrong, missing pieces or misread instructions or something like that.
But once it’s done….well that’s another story. Not necessarily to be done, although sometimes that’s true. But to have done a thing properly, so that once you had a broken or useless thing and now you have something that works–well, that’s just great.
It’s the feeling of creating something with you’re own two hands. It’s why I make sweaters out of string and make cakes from scratch. It just feels so damn good.
Also, now I can get my workout-induced endorphin rush. That also feels pretty good.
I’m not sure if she’s blowing kisses, or making a fish face. Either way, it makes me laugh.
Last week was the Vernal Equinox, a balance of day and night, and the first day of Spring. This Sunday is Easter Sunday. It’s also snowy and cold as balls where I live.
But nevermind that, it’s time to think about spring and warm weather and all of the outside things coming back to life. At this time of year, as a symbol of the fertility of the earth and all the sprouting, growing, baby things, we have the humble egg, which we dye pretty colors. Then we hide them from children, and make them go look for them in fancy clothes, and there’s ham dinner. And I buy a half-dozen Reester Bunnies at the store, and instead of savoring them over a few weeks (or even days) like a regular person, I shame-eat all of them standing in the kitchen while the baby is napping (because babies can’t have peanut butter! I’m being a good mom!) also I hide the wrappers in the big trash so my husband doesn’t know.
Or, you know, that’s how we do it at my house. Some people go to church.
Anyhoodle, kittens, I made me an Easter egg. Since hard boiled eggs are: a) gross and b) perishable we do not hold with such nonsense in House Barrow. I use blown out eggs. That means I poke a hole in each end with a pin, and use that to empty out the contents. So it’s an empty egg shell. You can’t give this to little kids to hunt, but I have a baby, and she doesn’t know that things still exist when you hide them, so it’s no problem for me.
But it’s way cute. I might make another.
Someone spent dinner learning how to blow bubbles with her baby food. Of course it was a day when she was eating some gross-looking green veggie mix. Ah, the wonders of childhood discovery.
If you’ve ever made a quilt, please look at the above photo. Those are 1″ and 2″ squares. I’m not a quilter by any means, and I fear I’ve gotten far too ambitious with this project.
It’s not for me, so I can’t divulge too much, but let’s just say it’s intricate, and that I may have lost my mind thinking this is the sort of thing that I can tackle. Heck, I have a sweater from December 2011 that still needs sleeves.
I guess what I’m getting at is this question: is there a patron saint of people who get in over their heads?
I’m housebound today because the hubs has my car. His is out of commission with a flat tire (which he discovered just as he was leaving for work this morning and had no time to change). I had planned to go to the grocery today to pick up a couple of things, most important of which is pita bread. We’re having mini chicken pizzas tonight, which I make on pitas. But they don’t always have them in stock at my grocery, including earlier this week when I did the shopping. So what to do? Make homemade pitas from scratch, of course!
In my last post I mentioned my go to bread bible: Bernard Clayton’s New Complete Book of Breads which just so happens to have a recipe for pitas. They’re actually quicker and easier to make than I’d expected No long proofing times, nothing in them that I don’t always keep on hand. And they’re good!