Betsy played a wild boar (a Rodney Dangerfield sort of comedian boar) and Anne-with-an-e was a sarcastic billy goat. Poor Betsy got sick Friday night, but an antihistamine, some Tylenol and a little caffeine got her through two performances on Saturday. Today she happily collapsed into a heap for most of the day.
I still have not blogged anything about The Next Food Network Star, much to Anne-with-an-e's annoyance. Sigh. I have been admittedly remiss. I'm sorry, Anne.
Our whole family watches together every week (we're
But -- I'm sorry, Anne, I have to digress -- I still have the same complaint I have every year. If the Food Network really wanted to find the next great TV cooking instructor, wouldn't they ask people to demonstrate their strengths instead of putting them through these silly paces? Don't worry, Anne -- I still have a lot of fun watching with you. I simply cannot tell a lie. Food Network is irritating me with the ever-increasing manufactured drama here. The show is, perhaps, a new and more terrifying kind of Hunger Game.
Betsy turned 14 this summer. It is simply not possible to believe the joy that this girl has brought into our lives for the last fourteen years. Betsy radiates joy and love. That sounds like a cliche, but it's oh-so-true. She once prompted a friend of mine to say, "I want to have a Betsy!"
Happy birthday, my sweetheart, my child.
Ramona turns eight this month.
Ramona is turning eight. She was three when I started this blog. This was my first Ramona post:
And, one of my favorite early Ramona quotes, from a couple of months later:What a Princess Eats
Our three-year-old, affectionately known as Ramona around here, was trying on princess dress-up clothes this morning. I interrupted, in that irritating way mothers do, to ask if she would like some string cheese (aka "cheese sticks" in RamonaSpeak.)
"No," said Ramona. "Princesses don't eat cheese sticks. Princesses only eat brownies. Did you know that?"
I didn't know that. Hmmm . . . there happens to be a pan of brownies sitting on our stove top at this very moment. Coincidence? Or Divine Providence? Perhaps just a princess's sovereign right.
Ramona just turned to me, a pencil mark on her cheek, and said, "Recently, I crossed myself out."
Eight, dear readers. But still quotable. The other day, she found an old tape measure -- slightly worse for the wear, as a bit of the end was torn off.
"Hey!" she said. "This is great! I just found 59 inches of fun!"