1. Do you ever have stroller envy? (So much for breaking the mold of mommy blogging…) Whenever I’m in a place heavily populated by persons under 3″ tall (park, library, etc.), especially around New Haven, I find myself casting furtive, don’t-mind-me-I’m-just-a-creeper glances at all the strollers that pass us by. Of course, my obsessive, Craigslist-lurking, consignment store-haunting search for The Perfect Double Stroller somehow ended with a monster of a Graco (so uncool) now taking up about 98% of my sacred trunk space, but that doesn’t stop me from gazing wistfully at what I know are $500+ strollers that, honest to goodness, look like they could land on the moon.
But hey, at least I’m building upper body strength hauling our near-40-lb. train in and out of the car. Or throwing out my back, either works.
2. This blog post on dating/not-dating seems to be making the rounds in my Steubenville circles (surprise) (sidenote: when I interviewed for my post-graduation job, one of the VPs mentioned that he’d visited FUS before and had picked up the student paper. “There seemed to be a lot of articles on relationships and dating,” he mused. Yep. Sounds about right, I agreed, fidgeting with my engagement ring). At the risk of bludgeoning an already very dead horse when it comes to this topic (or offending half my Facebook feed), I think the author makes a very valid point about the well-intentioned, yet almost (or even, “exactly like”) prosperity gospel-approach to dating and marriage, and why I feel weird about statements like, “A woman’s heart should be so lost in God that a man must seek Him in order to find her.” (Google magic reveals that Elisabeth Elliott may or may not have said it. So.) Granted, that quote doesn’t have quite the same “if I love Jesus enough, then he’ll give me a boyfriend” explicitness as some other cliches do. Still — it sounds nice, but what does it mean? That women must sequester themselves, Rapunzel-like, in some hazy tower of holiness, which only Prince Charming, who looks exactly like Bl. Pier Giorgio, will be able to scale, if only he seeks God enough? Or that if men could only pray hard enough and reach some unstated level of intimacy with God, then poof! — the woman of his dreams, who is basically just like the Virgin Mary, will appear before his eyes? (In the Adoration chapel, of course). Or am I being unfair?
3. Last weekend’s tamale recipe experiment went kinda off the rails, in the sense that it got made, but I can’t tell you how, because I came back from consignment store-therapy and Luke had already cooked/done everything but assemble the casserole. (Could Pier Giorgio cook pseudo-New Mexican food AND placate a post-nap toddler while Mommy is busy convincing herself that a dry clean-only silk shirt with the tags still on is a worthwhile “investment,” because it’s postpartum-friendly? No offense, sir, but I thought not.) So…sorry.
4. In lieu of that, though, this was dinner last night: Fennel-crusted pork loin, minus the roasted veggies/pears. It’s very easy, VERY TASTY, and will make its encore appearance tonight.
5. A story for your weekend: one of my best friend’s blonde and apparently Nick. Jr.-loving toddler recently looked at a similarly aged, little Mexican girl at the park and said, “Come on, Dora.”
6. Um…drawing a blank.
In the words of the FB friend who posted it, “Come Lord Grantham.”
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