B had a temperature today, or rather last night, and we spent the day on the couch watching hours of tv. Richard Scarry and Charlie & Lola and Little Red Tractor and all kinds of animals: birds, sheep, pigs, dinos, you name it. (Take a moment to consider the sheer amount of animals in childrens literature and tv. It's crazy. Like Noah's Ark at the zoo.) When night fell I was actually relieved to go to school for a meeting with the PTA (not really the PTA, we don't have that here, but it's the only word I can think of. Which makes me think of Dolly, darling Dolly, and Harper Valley PTA, such a great song. Oh, I digress.) Anyway, meeting was good and now I'm back at home, enjoying my 21th century Ingalls family evening (fire burning, children snoring upstairs, tea at hand, husband stroking his beard, apples in store, computer in lap). Best there is.
I've been stuck in Instagram since Thursday, it really is quite addictive. And I'm getting better (less awful). Join me if you can stand it.
It's getting late and I just wanted to stop by. I know what I want for Christmas, by the way. A book, a fox, a pair of earrings. Will get back with details. Do you have a wish list, or do you consider yourself too... something? J and I tried a "only gifts for the children" Christmas a couple of years ago, and it was evident within three seconds of me spotting the tree and realizing NOTHING UNDER THERE IS FOR ME that we're not doing that again. No, let there be gifts. Let there be wrapping paper and tissue and a kiss or two when noone's looking. Even Caroline Ingalls wouldn't mind, I'm sure.
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