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Uh, Gee…

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Apr-27-2005

I am in rare form these days, more absent minded than usual. Yesterday, I realized, well, shucks, of course the kids have grown since last summer : their swim suits and beach slippers ( read : flip- flops ) no longer fit. And so I headed off for The Big City this morning, to fill my packs with booty.

I wasn’t in the mood for it at all and the horrendous crowds sauntering about town and clogging the sidewalks, the steaming , crawling lines in H&M, the shuffle and bustle of it all nearly spoiled my trip. But finding the goods easily pleased me. I bought until I couldn’t carry one more square inch of must haves. In fact, I might just have passed that limit , for I kept dribbling parcels and plastic bags onto the side walk and eventually lost The Girl’s new bathing suit.

Once home, The Baby and I went out into the garden, and as she sang- over and over and over again- a song about a frog reaching froghood, I planted the camellias. And fussed over their leaves, the tinge of brown on the edge of their petals. Oh, you poor , wee dears : how’s tricks ? Am I killing you off ?

As I start to weed the other side of the path, The Baby keeps calling out that I am digging up carrots ! Carrots !

Roots, Baby, those are roots ( although some did really look like carrots, orange and all).

At about four, The Girl joins us and we weed together, me showing The Baby a few examples of what are weeds and how to pluck them out so that the roots come as well.

She admires the carrots that she finds very much indeed.

We find two bunches of chives- no, I haven’t a clue- maybe from the same place that that pot plant came from, a few years back. I break a few spears off and, holding them under her nose, ask The Baby what they smell like.

Onions !

Clever girl.

This, that and the other thing and I decide to post here, show off the hotel that Dad has found for us in Portugal.

For mere pence, no doubt.

And realize that I haven’t a clue as to where- exactly- we are going.

Dad shall love my email, for it simply reinforces my reputation for being scatterbrained.

But I do believe that we are going here

It looks oddly familiar, like at one point in time, yes, I did have a vague clue as to where- exactly- we are going.

  1. Angie Said,

    Europeans vacation so much better than we Americans do.

  2. Martie Said,

    That hotel looks cool. Have fun!

  3. Karan Said,

    WoW! You’d better take YOUR tiara there.

  4. Catherine Said,

    Ooh ooh you get bathrobe and slippers!

  5. sue Said,

    The only reason that we can go to such snazzy places is that planning vacations is my Dad’s favorite hobby. He has air miles up the gazoo, platinum cards at the nicest hotels and he spends hours each day researching things.

    He also throws a fit at every hotel. I usually amble off with the kids, I find it so …impolite. Yet, he usually gets a suite out of it.

    He actually throw a shit fit once at a hotel in New Orleans where we didn’t even have reservations. We got a suite in the french quarter for the price of a double.

    Catherine, seeing how I am low martyr on the totem pole, I’m sure Meg will be be-slippered before I am !

    We leave Sunday, with Mr. Jo staying here to tend the pets and redo the stairs.

  6. Catherine Said,

    Surely a bathrobe and slippers for you is worth at least a middling tantrum from your dad? In case I don’t catch you again before you go – I hope your dad is doing OK and that all goes well on the trip.

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