We're in some sort of new phase. Much of the time now, the boys wake up and play together rather than immediately screeching for me or Tom. Actually, they just screech for me, so Tom gets some sort of pass but is, nonetheless, privy to the immense noise said screeching produces. In any case, we are now getting an extra 15-20 minutes of light sleep on most mornings which is truly a miracle as it means we often don't get out of bed until at least 6:30. You'd think we won a pot of gold for all our goings-on but when juxtaposed with pre-5am wakings (oh, about 15 months of Oliver's life), or the almost equally sucky, 5:20-5:40am range (another good 8-12 months), you might understand why we feel so grateful. Earlier this week however -by which I must mean Monday because it wasn't yesterday and today is only Wednesday; gawd, the days can feel long- we were awakened by news of a mysterious rogue poop on the boys' bathmat. No chance in the world it was Jack's, and Oliver swore up and down it wasn't his. Percy? We hailed him, and as he trundled up the stairs, all eyes turned towards him; his tail did seem to be slinking down guiltily if our bleary eyes were reading him correctly. There's really nothing else to this story beyond a serious clean-up in the bathroom, but it reminded me of this absolutely hysterical, though - warning - extremely scatological, bit about various poopies that circulated some years ago. Never ceases to make me laugh, and in this regard, I feel certain I was indeed meant to mother boys.
In news of the cry-rather-than-laugh sort, did you see the most recent unbelievably idiotic verbiage spewing from Romney's mouth? Nearly half of Americans feel they're victims entitled to government welfare? Really? Journalists called him out of touch; this must be diplomatic news-speak for wildly out of touch, like lives in a gilded cage out of touch, douchebag. And really folks, how many people "caught" on tape does it take to make others know that unfortunately/fortunately, a camera and mic are always around. You know it Peggy Noonan, George Allen and so forth. If Romney weren't trying so desperately to master a multiple personality persona, he might not have such a hard time articulating his opinions or, at the least, keeping them straight.
And, finally, in the realm of interest and enthuse, Yotam Ottolenghi has a new cookbook coming out next month. Entitled Jerusalem, it's a joint effort by Yotam and his ages-old friend, Sami Tamimi. Both men were born in Jerusalem, Yotam in the Jewish west and Tamimi in the Arab East, and this book is an homage to their hometown through the cross-cultural lens(es) of their experiences. They still work together, today in London with Tamimi manning the ship at one of Ottolenghi's restaurants. I'm looking forward to this book!