Exercise Nine

In the summer, the house grows hot, so hot
With steaming, stewing pressurized tomatoes
Deep sea green cucumbers in their baths
slowly turning to pickles in the winter.
Okra waiting patiently in a basket for
a turn at the sink,
Green beans sitting on the porch being plucked
away at until their boiling is due.
Once it's July, the whole kitchen floods
with mason jars, clear jars
quarts, half cups, pints all stacked in boxes
My mother assigns me with millions of them
and a single sharp brillo pad in the yard
Plunging my small hands into the jars
I scrub and scrub eager to hand them off to
my mother for approval. This is the task
hated most, readying the old glass banks
for prizes I would choose to never open.
Sometimes, I sneak away and bring back feathers
or plunge my toes instead into the cold hose water.

A genuine breastfeeding baby doll:

A friend of mine just came back from NYC and stayed with us for a few days before starting back to college. She and I were talking about my renewed desire to nurse until Little Berry weans herself- whenever that may be, something Pappa Starbucks is horribly against but don't get me started.
Anyway, she mentioned this doll she had seen in the city. I give you the new hip doll

that I am buying at least one of my nieces for Christmas, if only because they aren't allowed to sit in the room (seriously) while I nurse.
That teensy part on the box is a flower that ties on and the baby latches onto (magnetically I suppose):

What strikes me as funny is that Cuppycake already does this with her babies, brings them to me and tucks them in my shirt, that is. The flower part seems like it could cause some confusion. And God help those girls who will grow up thinking those first days of nursing will be "that" easy.

Photos snatched from Google images

Proof

I had so many ideas for blog posts this week and didn't get around to any of them. Things are hectic again here because Pappa Starbucks has decided he's applying for that program he wants placement into so badly, again.
Deadline is tonight.

I realized yesterday that I was letting a lot of things go that I normally wouldn't in order to help him out as much as possible, Little Berry confirmed that this morning, energetically pointing out my 'unkempt' nature taken yesterday: when I brushed my hair, she stood up in the crib, pointed, and said "WOwwwwwwwww!!!"

Europe

Some pics I just found in my phone of our daily excursions in Europe. It was so, so beautiful, so liberating. Wonderful.

Dog tired

I have owned a black lab-mutt mix since I entered college. He is 5 now and weighs maybe 50 pounds. He is well-mannered, allows Little Berry to pummel him without the slightest complaint. He turns his head when she shoves her crackers at him, and follows commands perfectly. I can tell him to leave a room and he will, to load into the car, sit, down, hop onto the tub: he is easier to bathe than the baby. But.
He is unhappy in this cramped apartment, his ears perk up only when we go out and it seems unjust to force this life upon him even though he means so much here to us. As sad as it makes me and will really be tough on the babe, I know he has spent enough time cooped up in the city..I think it's time to let him not be mine anymore just because it means he will have room to stretch his legs, he can go out and poop whenever he pleases, he can chase squirrels and bears and deer and raccoons and who knows what away at night, all night.
So we are beginning a journey of being non-pet owners, something I haven't been in a long long time.