Writing Wrongs

May 23, 2005

Pretty amazing, huh? And here’s the proof:

Andrew did make most of the dinner himself, the menu a true culinary delight of spaghetti with sauce from a jar and canned peas. That’s Kyra in the corner, watching, immensely proud of her big brother. The only thing he didn’t do was drain the spaghetti. (And aren’t you totally digging our circa 1980s wallpaper in the background?)

He really wants to learn how to cook, so I figure we should take advantage of that while it lasts. At the very least, he’ll have some rudimentary survival skills when he heads off to college. Now if I can only convince him that doing laundry is cool. Kyra likes laundry, but then she’s a mini-clothes horse. Or does that make her a clothes pony? She sits on the bed, picks up something of hers, and exclaims, “Oh! Nice.” And then “folds” it, “fold” being extremely relative.

Thanks to a lunch meeting, there was no Friday fortune last Friday. Thanks to ceaseless rain, I haven’t felt like updating, or writing, or doing much of anything. At some point it’s got to stop, right? It was a gorgeous morning, then look: The. Clouds. Rolled. In.

We have rain. We have spaghetti. We have folded laundry. And that’s about it. How sad is that?

Charity Tahmaseb wrote at 11:20 a.m.

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