What a Wednesday

It was beautiful outside today but frigid, at least for my Louisiana blood. I was wearing about eight layers until I made it to the gym late this afternoon (more evidence of the annoying bug I seem to have caught?). Ol kept looking askance at me, sizing up my shivers and seeming rather in disbelief. He appears immune to temperature most of the time lucky little guy. He and Jack both actually; I think it's a kid thing. Anyway, I was insanely productive until I hit the wall at 2p and fell asleep on the couch, out like a light, while Ol watched Blues Clues. It's probably not terribly wise to sleep while your toddler is awake, but I do lock all doors in every way possible if I even think I might nod off while the kids are here so at least it'd take them some time to finagle their way out into greater DC. What was going on with the drivers today? Did some bizarre majority of them have a woman-in-labor riding shotgun? I really can't understand why else folks were zooming through stop signs with not even the slightest suggestion of slowing down and/or speeding along the streets as if we've all registered for the Indy 500. I mean, I like to drive fast and I like to be efficient, but I don't ride up people's bums for the love. And really, can you read? Stop sign means what it says. Loud, simple, clear.

And why is it OK to park in an active lane of traffic? It is not OK, especially if you don't even bother to put on your hazards and if you leave your driver side door wide open as if no other cars are a'coming. Good grief, people.

The last thing I will say about local drivers is WOW on the lady who was hauling down Wisconsin Ave with a calico cat stretched out on her dashboard. An alive cat, friends, all puff and whiskers, just flipping its tail loosy-goosy while this gal is on her way. Doesn't he slide back and forth when she takes a turn? Is it comfortable to lie wedged between a windshield and the dash? Aren't there vents up there? And doesn't this feline obstruct this woman's view? I've spent more time that I like to admit pondering each of the questions today.

Perhaps it goes without saying that once again, I have lost the will to prepare Chicken Kiev. It's one of the most outstanding dishes I make but it is a g-damn labor of love. But I do want it so badly. Hmm...

Apple cardamom crumble

I ate too much, and it was only good, not great. Blasted rough days and related carb-loading. Blarg!

Hmm...

I swear to you, readers, I wasn't sure I was going to make it through this afternoon with les enfants. J was in one of his moods in which he repeats himself constantly and never -literally, never; how does he breathe?- stops talking. He used the word "deploy" about 400 times, mostly to describe some invention he was putting together in his mind but describing to me real time. J is a narrator of life in the truest sense of the word. He literally narrates his days as they unfold. Sometimes this is fascinating, other times hilarious but on a number of occasions, it is boring as all get-out. Like mind-numbing, I'd rather be doing pretty much anything else, dull. He was also trying to control the most inane of everything: whether or not O could pick up the giant vat of perling beads we have and where he could or could not set it down;  was the proximity of O's legs to his too close or too far because, I can assure you, it was never just right. I finally had a brief come-to-jesus with him about how, in fact, he was not the parent or in charge, and frankly, he seemed a little taken aback.

O was in a slightly whiny mood which adopted slightly antagonistic overtones when J started trying to manhandle his every move. I could understand this response but was really annoyed by how many times I had to intervene simply to save my own nerves. Both were in psychotically needy moods and acted fairly put out when I couldn't meet their demands simultaneously and right NOW, as if I'm some sort of servant octopus with no mind to do anything except agree. I think not.

Also my chest aches, and it seems I've acquired whatever has had T hacking up a lung for 3 days. No good.

To counter all this nonsense, I made a giant apple and brandied fig crumble from Melissa Clark. It smells to the nines and I do believe it will assuage some of my vile humour.