Framing My Issue

Happy October, all, and Happy Monthday Bean. We were productive today – trip to Ikea for a new bed, putting the garden to rest for the season, planning the week’s menu, cooking. Ms. Ladyface accompanied us everywhere wearing a smashing vintage cardigan that originally kept yours truly snuggly nearly (gulp) 30 years ago now. Check it:

What you can't see is the grass all over her stockings.

What you can't see is the grass all over her stockings.

It was pleasantly blustery here today; if you’re on the Island, I hope you enjoyed it. Me, I got all scratched and lavender-scented trimming back the various hedges. We were thinking of burning it, and raising a cloud of sage over Rednal, but unfortunately it rained while we were out at the shop. So I made us pizzas instead.

"I think you should feed this lawn more often."

"I think you should feed this lawn more often."

Speaking of food, the Bean’s palate is expanding. We have, per the pediatric nurse’s advice, moved on from plain porridge and plain veggies to pastures new. Bananas are a big hit. Rice pudding gives her super squealing powers. Mashed sweet potatoes with a drop of gravy from the Sunday roast? Fabulous.

It does, however, pain me to report that she likes baked beans. I loathe them. Can’t even look at them without shuddering, thanks to a kid named Robert Moore in Elementary school. Through some weird manipulation of his sinuses, this kid could hock them up through his mouth and make them come out his nose. They would then drop onto the green plastic lunch tray much the way I always imagined deer pellets would plop out of a deer.

So that’s why I don’t like baked beans (and why you don’t anymore either).

Here’s a more pleasant image to occupy your mind with:

DON'T THINK OF BAKED BEANS.

DON'T THINK OF BAKED BEANS.

Look at that cute little chin. It’s already cleft, like mine and Grandpa M.’s.

October’s here already. It is fall. In Britain this means all the sunshine that failed to turn up during the summer suddenly arrives in a blaze of glory, but it’s too cold to do summery things (and if you’re a kid, you’re trapped at school). For instance, you’d have nowhere to parade your bikini:

What do you mean, I can't use the tanning bed?

What do you mean, I can't use the tanning bed?

Although you might get use of it at Mum’s health center, if she takes you for a swim one of these days. Still, wouldn’t it be more fun to go on hikes while the trees are showing off, and learn to like applesauce, and maybe pull at the lawn some more? Yeah, let’s mess with the lawn:

But no, really, you should feed this lawn.

But no, really, you should feed this lawn.

The main thing I miss about summer is the daylight. The sun is only up for about 10 hours here now. By December, we’re talking daylight from 9 am – 3:30 pm. I think because the UK isn’t very cold, we Americans tend to forget how far north it is. Seriously, go to Google Maps, and zoom out until you can see the UK and North America on the same screen. Now draw a line from the middle of the UK dead West, until you hit North America. Where do you land? Maine? Boston? New York City?

Try Newfoundland.  That’s Canada. That’s cold.  Without the Gulf Stream keeping us warm, we’d be looking out for polar bears, too.

But we’re not, for now. We’re playing with new toys:

Beads and stuff! My favorite!

Beads and stuff! My favorite!

We’re growing and learning and eating new things. We’re screaming quite a bit, but most of that seems to be for fun. We’re into free-form baby yoga:

Very open hamstrings.

Very open hamstrings.

We’re seven months old. It’s super.

Ms. Sweetness Completeness

Ms. Sweetness Completeness

Talk to you soon.

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