Building on your Strengths

We survived having the family all over for El’s birthday on Saturday, and the house looks fantastically tidy and clean which thrills me to no end. She got the second and third books that follow Flowers in the Attic by V. C. Andrews. I’m not sure if I have mentioned this before, but the kid is very morbid and loves scary books and shows. If I catch a glimpse of a commercial for an upcoming horror flick, I have nightmares for weeks, yet she is fascinated by ghost stories and thrillers. I admit I read all the V.C. Andrews’ books too, but in high school – I am pretty certain that I was not in Grade 6! And there’s something different about reading it as opposed to watching it because a couple of months ago, I was flicking through the channels late at night, and Flowers in the Attic was on, but I couldn’t bring myself to watch it, and now I am thinking that it was the eery music. Yeah, that’s what it was.

I had a lovely afternoon at the Covent Garden Market on Sunday, and I enjoyed my stroll home in the sunshine along the Thames. It couldn’t have been more perfect. The caramel apple cider was delicious, and my Charade sock is coming along nicely even though I whined horribly that it seemed to be taking ages. It would help if I stopped petting it after each row and swooning how much I love it. Yes, yes, get on with it!

And last night I dropped in at the Wortley Roadhouse for knitting and the smell of beer. I can’t hold my alcohol the same as before I had children, and I won’t be building up my tolerance on a weeknight. Even typing this statement makes me giggle – I sound so old and frumpy sometimes; however, I will secretly envied all those who handled a glass of wine or beer with class. I used to get very outraged when I was pregnant and people would offer J an alcoholic drink and he would refuse. “For god’s sake, man, have one for me!!” Overall, it was a very big, loud and uber-cool group of knitters. I felt very inferior surrounded by the talent around that table. My plan was to stay quiet and not say anything stupid. I barely managed that.

Big news! B ate a few bites of my tuna noodle casserole last week. As usual I placed a big ol’ dish of plain buttered noodles in front of her, and she inhaled it, but then she turned to my bowl of noodles covered in tuna and peas and chips. I think it was the chips she was after, but then she had some tuna noodles, and then she ate all my peas. Holy canoodle. It suddenly hit me that one day she may eat coloured foods!

And in other news, I may have rallied up a little parenting preteens support network at noon hour with a few of my co-workers. The story sharing gets a bit more frightening than any V.C. Andrews epic. What would Barbara do?