I’m not sure why a little afternoon coffee sounded like a good idea – but I’d done the dishes and eaten my lunch, and my first cup of coffee this morning had been rushed as I was going to sit on some babies, so a second round of coffee sounded comforting and reasonable. Now I just feel a little twitchy and unable to focus on getting anything done. Hey, maybe I’ll make myself sick of coffee and ready to take a break for Lent, that great sea of no cream for my coffee! I wish.
Lent is very late this year, and I’m relieved to have this much more of winter for the hearty consumption of meats and dairy, all those filling comfort foods. But it’s coming – tucking into the last of the meat this week, and the last of the dairy next week, and then it’s all beans and rice, all the time. At least, that’s what it always feels like. Whine, whine, but part of me relishes it.
I watched my god-daughter and her sister this morning – we went over a variety of their nicknames. There’s Q & M, as I’ve called them before. McGillicutty and Peabody, as their grandmother calls them. There’s also Q-Tip and Q-Ball (“like pool,” the 4 year old Q explained) and Cucumber Face for the baby. The baby who talks like nobody’s business. It’s disconcerting to meet a not-yet-two year old who can correctly pronounce not only her sister’s name, but my name as well. She also does a great Rose Festival Princess wave when anyone leaves the room. Q planned an un-implemented picnic for us, which involved making oatmeal and taking it to the park, and compromised by cracking walnuts in the back yard. We read books until I began to stumble over my Dr. Seuss.