Six Things Now

I keep trying to write some sort of coherent post, but it's not happening.  (This afternoon, while I had a little time to write because Jemma was napping?  I took a nap.  So.)  Instead, this:

1.  Sometimes I wonder why the moms I know seem to be just as busy and frantic as our own mothers were.  At first glance, this seems to not make sense, since my generation tends toward fewer children, more modern conveniences, and more helpful spouses.  Do you know what I think is causing this problem?  EXERCISE.  We do it, our mothers generally did not.  And it takes up a lot of time, what with the working out and the post-workout showering and the workout-clothes laundry.  I am not sad about this, I am just saying.

2.  Things I have been requested to bring to Thanksgiving:  rolls, cranberry sauce.  I have never made either thing, but I do love a challenge in the kitchen, so there are two bags of cranberries and a new 3-lb. bag of flour in my kitchen right now.

3.  I have read Three! Books! In a Row! to which I have assigned the rare-but-special five-star rating on Goodreads.  They are Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout, The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot, and The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach.  Go.  Read them.  And tell me what I should read next.

4.  I have begun stockpiling Christmas gifts for the girls in the basement since our house is old and lacks sufficient closet space.  I warned Jason the minute that I started this:  "I'm putting Christmas presents downstairs.  Don't let the girls down there from now on."  I didn't think it would be a problem, because the basment is unfinished and creepy and the only things down there are the Costco overflow groceries, the laundry room, Jason's "workbench," and the hundreds of empty beer bottles our teetotaling Baptist-ish contractor was able to see multiple times last week.

On Sunday, I took the girls down to the track to do some bleachers and sprints with me, which they participated in surprisingly well, and when we returned home I promised them Gatorade.  I left the kitchen briefly and when I came back, Jason was alone in the kitchen while the soup simmered on the stove.

"Where are the girls?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"Getting Gatorade in the basement," he said, and I ran down the stairs like a crazy person, where I found the girls adorably trying to figure out how to un-shrink-wrap the case of Costco Gatorade . . . about three feet away from a giant shopping bag full of most of their unwrapped Christmas presents.  Luckily they had no idea, but you can bet someone got the stinkeye when the three of us emerged from the basement.

5.  I went to Trader Joe's last weekend and have since become obsessed with their mini peppermint waffle cookies.  I bought two packages.  I ate the last cookie today.  (Today, with its napping and its cookie-eating, really makes me look good, no?)  Why, WHY can there not be a Trader Joe's in this town?

6.  Jemma celebrated Thanksgiving today at preschool with a "feast."  She now knows a fair amount about the Wampanoag Indians and how to make butter from cream by shaking it while you dance.  She was able to choose her Native American name, which is Princess Love Dancing Sunlight.