Baby
was hot and fussy with a fever all day; I was holding her in the wrap
and trying to cook with my little boy clinging to my leg for dear life
during today's thunderstorms. He wouldn't let go! ("I'm scared of the
blunder.") So there I was like a car with a boot, galumphing around the kitchen while shouting cleaning instructions down the
hall to the girls; the lightning was cracking and the lights were
flickering threateningly, and the rain was coming down with record speed
and fury. And thus I burned the vat of creamed spinach for the elderly.
It is now smoked spinach. I wonder if they will notice.
Actually, the little koalas were not at fault for the demise of the spinach. I had decided to take a little break while the frozen spinach cooked down, to watch a rainy-day puppet show that Sparrow and Golden had prepared for me, and I was immensely enjoying myself while the spinach died a miserable death in a fiery inferno. Here is that show, for better or worse:
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