Just in time to resonate nicely with my book club, who gathered at my house last night to celebrate Molly Wizenberg's A Homemade Life by making a variety of the recipes in her splendid book and then talking about our own food stories: a taxonomy of the picky eater. I've been following this blog, Dinner, a Love Story, for a few weeks now, and this is too funny not to share, especially with other foodie parents who despair of their children ever eating and enjoying a "normal" range of food.
And then, on a completely unrelated note, an excerpt from Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage by Elizabeth Gilbert. My friends and I talk sometimes about how life and motherhood have changed since our parents' generation, and we speculated recently about what sorts of current practices or beliefs will seem silly, outdated, or unenlightened to our grown children. I am 100% on board with Gilbert when she writes: "In any case, whatever happens with gay marriage, and whenever it happens, I can also assure you that future generations will someday find it ridiculous to the point of comedy that we ever debated this topic at all, much the same way that it seems absurd today that it was once strictly illegal for an English peasant to marry outside of his class, or for a white American citizen to marry someone of (another) race." Sooner rather than later, Elizabeth.
Finally, the note Annie gave me late last week, which I have read over and over, and which I will probably file away someone to be kept for a long-ish time: "Dear Mom, I jeste read the birtday card from my birtday and it made me thincke of you. Love, Annie."
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