1. Today I was restless after work, and

2. I have been trying to run more errands in the afternoons after work, rather than letting them pile up for my day off, and

3. I have been trying to buy the cats’ special Hills Science Diet Oral Care cat food (the vet recommends mixing it into their regular food for routine dental care) locally instead of from Amaz0n, but the local store keeps being out of stock, while promising they will have some soon, and

4. I needed to complete a Pokémon task, so:

This afternoon I went on an outing to the local gardening/pet store, with a stop along the way to complete a Pokémon task. On the topic of Pokémon tasks: I have become very self-indulgent. I have thought, “This is a hobby, and it is a perfectly acceptable hobby, and if I need to pull over into a parking lot for a few minutes to complete some sort of task to acquire some sort of prize, then TELL ME: WHAT HARM IN THAT?” Anyway, I went to the gardening/pet store, which has a task-completing Pokémon thingie in its parking lot, and don’t worry if that part makes no sense to you.

They DID have the cat food I was looking for, but only in the 3.5-pound bags, which is a bridge too far for me, expense-wise. The 3.5-pound bag is $25; the 7-pound bag is $35. My frugal heart cannot tolerate that math. So I went home and ordered the 7-pound bag for $38 from Chewy.com, which scores well on Goods Unite Us. This is how we live now.

Where was I? Oh, yes: so, I was disappointed in my quest—but, on the way in, I’d noticed the gardening/pet store was having a 25%-off sale on fall bulbs. I like to live dangerously, in re fall bulbs. That is, I like to plant them VERY LATE. We have ABUNDANT CHIPMUNKS, who love nothing more than FLOWER BULB SALAD, and so ideally I like to plant the bulbs MOMENTS BEFORE the ground freezes solid. This results in a pleasing partnership with my frugal heart, which likes a sale. The fall bulbs go on 25% off when we are beginning to play chicken; when the bulbs go on 50%-off, it is CHICKEN GAME ROYALE.

But we are more financially comfortable than we used to be, and 25% off is enough to at least cause me to browse, especially when I have been disappointed in the cat-cookies quest. (The vet calls the big-chunk oral-care cat kibbies “cookies,” and now so do we.) I bought a bag of 7 white daffodils—an extra-fragrant variety with a thin red rim around the trumpet; these were abundant at our old house and I miss them. I bought another bag of 16 mixed pink-variety daffodils. Another bag of 7 fluffy yellow daffodils. And a bag of 4 allium giganteum, which you should look up if you’ve never seen them; our library handyman planted a bunch of them around our library sign and they are spectacular. Big purple lollipop puffballs. Chipmunks/squirrels allegedly find daffodils bitter; I don’t know how they feel about allium.

The clerk commented, “And if you don’t mind being out in the rain, this is a PERFECT day to plant them.” I do mind being out in the rain (especially I mind my glasses getting speckled), but I don’t mind it as much as I mind LOSING TO CHIPMUNKS. I went out with my little trowel, and I planted all 34 bulbs in the yard, in the rain. The rain will help water them in, and will also help cover my tracks (chipmunks are apparently alert to Disturbed Soil).

If you tend to feel crummy in the winter, may I recommend planting bulbs. All winter I can think about them, and look forward to them coming up. They are the epitome of hopefulness. I have already started hoping.

Since reading An Episode of Sparrows, I have read two more books by Rumer Godden. The first was Five for Sorrow, Ten for Joy. It was surprisingly gritty/modern in parts (a significant portion of plot takes place in a brothel, and in some of the before-and-after circumstances surrounding members of that brothel), and then surprisingly meandering/religious in others. Like, I didn’t measure, but if I had to ESTIMATE what percentage was gritty and/or focused plot and what percentage was nearly-unrelated meanderings about day-to-day convent life, including who was assigned to which daily chores and which saint-day it was, I’d say 30/70. I read the whole thing, but was sometimes unsure why I was still reading. And then one of the major plotlines, which seemed to be building to a book-long Ultimate Plot Confrontation, went utterly unresolved! Just, “Welp, I guess we’ll never know! Okay bye!” Definitely I liked it less than An Episode of Sparrows, and I also felt it did not hold together well. It was like the author got super interested in nuns/convents and just wanted to write about that, but felt she had to incorporate it into a fiction plot, and then couldn’t figure out how to resolve the fiction part.

Then I read The Kitchen Madonna. I would never, ever, ever have chosen this book off the shelf without having been motivated to read more Rumer Godden. Here is the cover:

I mean, absolutely not! But I enjoyed it enormously, and it was similar in some ways to An Episode of Sparrows: quirky interesting children pull off a relatively minor feat that will nevertheless have you breathlessly rooting for them to succeed. And there are illustrations! And by the time I finished the book, I felt so fond of the cover I can’t even express it to you; you will just have to try it for yourself and see if you feel the same way. I do wish Mary weren’t a blonde. And are her eyes blue? Let’s say they are not. This is a book I might want to own, and might want to re-read annually, perhaps near Christmastime, even though it is not Christmassy. The vibe is Christmassy.

In other vintage-media news, William has been working his way through old Halloween/scary movies, and we have joined him sometimes. (Not for The Exorcist, which William described palely as “very medical.”) Last night we watched The Invisible Man (1933), which reminded me of the Disney Sunday Night Movies I enjoyed so much in my childhood (Escape to Witch Mountain! The Cat From Outer Space! The Absent-Minded Professor!). I would have found some parts much too scary back then (lots of invisible throttling, and a Scary Invisible Voice), but I could imagine a version of it where I would have just enjoyed the thrilling special effects. Tonight we watched Werewolf of London (1935) which I found even more enjoyable. There were many genuinely witty moments. Both movies end (spoiler alert!) with the monster (a MAN who has REACHED FOR WHAT MAN SHOULD NOT REACH FOR!!) dying dramatically and conveniently, with Final Words Expressing Regret and Humanity, as well as devotion for The Blonde Love Interest. If I were compiling a list of movies to watch every Halloween, like I do at Christmas, I would add Werewolf of London for sure.

I have thoroughly cleaned a toilet, and I am feeling triumphant about it.

Even after months of physical therapy for my knee replacement, and being assured by multiple professionals that I MAY kneel on that new knee, I have not been able to COMFORTABLY kneel on that knee. It feels Wrong. In part this is because that knee is still numb, more than it is supposed to be—and I can tell it is more numb than it is supposed to be, because the surgeon’s PA keeps trying to act surprised/incredulous, and also as if it’s fine (“Technically you don’t NEED to kneel ever again,” she says, age 32 and I’ll bet still doing plenty of kneeling herself without seeing it as unnecessary), and/or as if I am confused or imagining it (“Well, it WILL be permanently numb over HERE, but you’ll only notice that when shaving!”—indicating an area adjacent to the numb area, which is indeed also numb), alternately. Kneeling on it feels the way it does if you put weight on something swollen/numb/sore—which is to say, my body gives me immediate, strong feedback that NO YOU SHOULD NOT DO THIS: it is a combination of Intense Discomfort and also Panic. And yet: all the professionals agree that I am not doing any actual damage if I kneel on it, and that I can ignore those signals. DON’T listen to your body!—as all the professionals constantly tell us.

Well. I don’t know about you, but actually I used to kneel quite often, and consider(ed) it pretty important. Perhaps that is WHY I ended up having to have a knee replaced relatively young, for what the surgeon described as “wear-and-tear” damage. I definitely used to kneel to clean toilets, and to clean the shower floor, and to clean the bathroom floors. And now I feel stuck, because I married a man who has never cleaned any of those things and never will, and when I hired housecleaners they stole from us.

I can kneel on the OTHER knee, though perhaps that is not wise if I want to keep it. And also: it turns out that kneeling on one knee is about 1/10th as useful as kneeling on both. (Try it! It is…surprising.) For one thing, it is harder to move around: if I am down on one knee, and I need to change position, I have to sort of HITCH and SCOOT. Also: I get uncomfortable much more quickly. Also: it’s all just so frustrating. I have wept over it. Am I glad I had the knee surgery?, lots of people want to know. Yes. But.

I bought a gardening kneeler, but that was much too firm and didn’t help. I can kneel on, for example, a mattress (the physical therapist had me do my practice-kneeling on a mattress), so I have wondered if maybe it would be best to put a small plump squooshy soft pillow into a plastic bag (germ/chemical protection for the absorbent pillow, since I am dealing with bathroom floors and cleaning supplies), and kneel on THAT. But tonight what I did was I knelt on a combination of (1) the original knee and (2) the surgically-replaced knee, placed carefully/judiciously on the pile of towels I was about to launder anyway, which I had cast onto the floor. That worked pretty well. I still had to scoot around a bit, because I found I still didn’t want to kneel much on the replaced knee, even if on towels. But! I was down on the floor, and I was able to thoroughly clean a toilet that badly needed it, and that felt very satisfying and good. (The toilet has not gone nine months uncleaned. When Henry was still here, Henry cleaned it. But he left in late August. Since then I have frequently scrubbed the toilet bowl, and have sprayed/wiped the toilet ring/seat, and have sprayed/wiped the floor in front of the toilet (blood rushing to my head as I leaned down) because of who I married—but today is the first time since January I’ve cleaned THE WHOLE ENTIRE THING and THE ENTIRE FLOOR AROUND IT. I feel HIGH. …and perhaps in need of more sources of joy and satisfaction in my life.)

I was so invigorated by this success that I went on to clean multiple things I could have cleaned at any time without kneeling: the half-bath sink, the kitchen sink, the toothbrush cup, etc. And I have cycled two loads of laundry, and ordered a few Christmas gifts. One triumph leads to more triumphs, and I don’t know why I cannot fully incorporate this knowledge.

I cannot seem to figure out a way to be thin enough to be physically comfortable, without living a life of constant deprivation and/or exercise.

All three college kids had a long weekend this past weekend, and all three opted to come home, which led to some complicated logistics and a lot of driving and a fun visit. I took two photos total, which is hard to explain since normally I take one million photos. I think I was a little preoccupied with the number of PEOPLE here and the amount of FOOD needed.

This was Henry’s first time home since leaving for college. He walked in the front door and said “Oh right! Now I can assess What Our House Smells Like! It smells like…varnish…and coffee…and…something else?” Me: “Ha, not cat box, I hope.” Henry, joyfully: “YES! Cat box!” Great. I do feel it’s inevitable that a House With Pets is going to smell like Pets—but also I spent extra time this weekend scraping the boxes and adding baking soda to the litter.

Henry, who is having an excellent freshman year, told us very casually that OH BY THE WAY, no-bigs but both of his roommates (he’s in a triple) moved out a week or two ago, on the same day, without telling him. This was, as you can imagine, riveting news to all of us. Upon questioning, we learned that the day before the disappearance, the roommates were packing boxes—but like books and stuff, not bedding, and they didn’t say anything about it, and Henry couldn’t think of any casual way to ask what they were doing. (As a group, none of us could think of any natural/casual way to ask either.) (As a group, we also reflected on how awkward it also could have been for the roommates to explain what was going on. Like, what are they going to say? “Oh, hi! We have conspired and we are both leaving you, because we don’t like living with you and would rather not!”) The next day Henry came back to his room after class to find both roommates and all their things gone, and his perishables from the shared refrigerator were sitting warmly on the windowsill. (Much discussion about this. If there were no hard feelings, why not put the items in the dorm-floor fridge, and leave a note? But also: I remember being 18, and not always finding it easy to think of Solutions. I can imagine the thought process that goes something like “We need to take the fridge with us == We cannot take our roommate’s items with us == There is no other fridge in the room == No solution found.”)

We discussed it multiple times, at some length each time. (My first question: “Are you…a terrible roommate?”) Many theories, many questions—especially since in the case of Roommate Issues at this school, there is a process involving the Roommate Contract and a sit-down meeting with the RA and if necessary the RD, which did not happen. Which means the roommates did not lodge any sort of Complaint about Henry.

When I asked if Henry had had had ANY issues with his roommates, Henry said it was true that his roommates wanted to watch movies until 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning, and that he, Henry, had sometimes taken his comforter and gone to sleep in the dorm lounge. I asked had he been HUFFY or DOOR-SLAMMY about it; he said he MIGHT have been a little huffy by definition (one cannot leave the room at 2:30 a.m. with a blanket without being Huffy) but NOT door-slammy. I asked had he made any vocalizations of huffiness, and he said he THOUGHT not. But even so: if he HAD been vocally huffy at 2:30 in the morning—would that be enough to cause roommates to move out?

I have no satisfying answer for you, but I do have a theory that holds water. Henry mentioned something we hadn’t known before, which is that his two roommates met during freshman orientation (which is held early in summer), and had decided during orientation that they wanted to room together. Because of the way the housing lottery is handled, the most likely explanation is that when they logged in during their housing selection time, the only available housing with space for both of them was a triple, so they took it. The college requires a 6-week waiting period before switching rooms, but you can submit an application any time during that waiting period; so they may have signed up immediately, even before meeting Henry, to switch to a double if/when it became available—and, when the six-week point arrived last week, they may have been approved. It’s hard for me to imagine circumstances leading to an EMPTY DOUBLE—but there is apparently ample housing this particular year.

Still, questions linger. Why didn’t the roommates say anything? (Well, actually, when I try to think of what I would say if I were them, especially if I imagine being 18, I find I flounder.) Maybe a better question is, why didn’t the RA say anything, or check in on Henry? Imagine being the resident assistant for a floor of freshmen. Imagine there is a triple where TWO students suddenly move out, six weeks into freshman year. Wouldn’t you…make sure the remaining freshman student was okay? SOME freshmen would be dancing around the room in their underpants to loud music, yelling “YES! YES!! YES!!!!”—but surely others would be feeling abandoned, hurt, rejected, isolated. It seems like it would be WORTH CHECKING IN. It’s been nearly two weeks and she has not checked in. Elizabeth, weighing in: “The RAs are high and don’t care.” Oh…kay.

Update on vaccine reactions: I felt a little icky in the night, but not feverish, just kind of icky. Now it is midday, and I have felt tired and a little emotional, but not sick, and I have not felt as if I need to lie down, or nap. I drank two quarts of Powerade yesterday; I don’t know if that helped. My arm (I got both shots in one arm) is quite sore.

I have just finished a dear, lovely book. Our library still has it even though it was published in 1955, which suggests to me that some of you will already be familiar with it. It is called An Episode of Sparrows, and it is by Rumer Godden, and look at this pretty cover:

At first I thought I was bored. It went on so long about the Garden Committee, and the street, and the children, and the dirt and soot! But gradually it wove the story and roped me in. Little comments from characters, before we even know their connection to each other, referring to a future time when we all will know all: after we read that a child had very little pocket-money, the narrative cuts in with “‘I don’t know how she managed,’ Olivia was to say when she and Angela were told everything.” Little remarks by people we haven’t met yet: “What Vincent said was worse, but he did not know Lovejoy was listening. ‘No one who loved their child could give it a name like that,’ said Vincent.”

I cried multiple times, in a good way. I enjoyed the characters, and the development of those characters. I found the ending extremely satisfying. I got used to the name Lovejoy. I can picture this being the kind of book I might read again and again over the years. It was restful, but not treacly: there is drama and distress to keep the plot realistic and interesting.

Paul and William and I got our annual Covid and flu shots today. My report may or may not be helpful to you, since I am hearing it varies by pharmacy/chain/practice and by state: but in our state, at our local pharmacy chain, when I signed up online for vaccination appointments, it asked me two questions: (1) had it been more than two months since our last Covid shot, and (2) were we eligible to receive the vaccine. It did not define “eligible,” or ask any follow-up questions about that. If I weren’t extremely online, and hadn’t been hearing all the scary things about the government restricting Covid vaccines, I could easily have said yes to the eligibility question in full innocence, just thinking it meant was I eligible like I always have been. And maybe it DID mean that! Who can say? I appreciate their commitment to plausible deniability. And also: the shots are in our arms now. It’s not like they can be taken back.

I can also report that when I picked up one of Edward’s prescriptions at Target back in early September (I need to transfer those, but haven’t yet), they asked if I wanted a flu and/or Covid shot. I said I’d heard it was best to wait until October, but that I was wondering if I should grab this opportunity before it was lost, given (*MEANINGFUL WIDENED-EYE-CONTACT*) The Current Administration—and the pharmacist said in our state we should not have an issue with it, and that their pharmacy had already ordered and received their shipment of vaccinations. She said one of our neighboring (BLUER) states was not as secure, and that she’d already vaccinated many people from that state who were driving to our state. So that is another tip for U.S. residents: neighboring state. That might bring up issues with insurance, though, I don’t know.

The three littles will be home next weekend, and I’m booking them for the same shots then. I hate to have them spend one of their few days with us suffering side-effects, but here we are.

I asked the technician giving me the shots if she’d heard any feedback on the side-effects of this year’s particular formulations. She said she had not, but that of course she WOULDN’T normally hear back; she said people only said that the flu shot hurt more than the Covid shot, which was true for me too. She did say she’d had repeat customers: people coming in the next week to get their RSV, pneumonia, MMR, TDap, etc., so she felt they couldn’t have been TOO traumatized. My mother reported that she was unconscious on the floor for an unknown amount of time after feeling too weak/sick to climb into the bed—but, as you’d imagine given the age of your Swistle, she is Older, and also she has chronic issues with dehydration/fainting. Do you remember back when the Covid vaccines were new, and they said to absolutely CHUG Gatorade/Powerade on the day of the vaccine? We are doing that here, in the hopes that it will mitigate the reaction. But I am expecting, if this shot is like the others, that in the night we will start to feel feverish/ill, and that we will spend part of tomorrow luxuriating in illness. (There is such a different vibe to Feeling Ill when the symptoms are “oh good this shows us the vaccinations are working” rather than “oh no here we go down a dark unknown road.”)

I do think I am going to get the pneumonia shot this year. I was so sick last winter, I remember thinking “Oh, I see: THIS is how people die.” I am also thinking I will get an MMR (measles-mumps-rubella) booster, just for kicks; it sounds like it can’t really do harm, only good, and if we’re going to let measles go frolicking around in this country again, I’d rather put up some personal barriers. The ER gave me a tetanus shot when I fell and needed stitches on my knee; I wonder if that was the TDap (tetanus, diphtheria, pertussis), or if it was JUST tetanus? IS there a shot that’s just tetanus? If I got a just-tetanus shot, can I still get the TDap? I never felt like I needed to know these things, before this administration.

Have you already gotten your flu and/or Covid vaccines, and can you give us a report on what the side-effects were like this year, and about whether you encountered any obstacles to obtaining the shots? And while I have you here: are you able to give a report on what to expect with the pneumonia and/or MMR vaccines?

Remember to make your vaccine-receiving arm all loose and noodley right before the shot! And then move it around a lot afterward! (Someone told me this is why they get their vaccines in their dominant arm, since they naturally move that arm more, and this has changed my own strategy.)

I didn’t have work today, and it was a Hobby Day.

First: I woke up to an alarm half an hour later than usual, which was already nice, and then I lounged in bed for an additional half hour playing on my phone—which is my number-one top-choice way to wake up in the morning. What I do is: I get up when the alarm goes off; pee; use my freshly-washed-still-wet hands to scrub the sleep from my eyes; spritz my face with some sort of nice restorative toning/freshening/moisturizing/vitalizing spritz (I only do this on mornings I’m going back to bed); take my usual omeprazole plus a bonus partial caffeine tablet (only on back-to-bed mornings); open the curtains to let the light in; and go back to bed to wake up slowly while I mess around with Pokemon Go and Pikmin Bloom on my phone. LUXURIOUS.

Half an hour later the caffeine has kicked in and I am able to force myself to get out of bed and go on a walk, which is something I am trying to do each morning I don’t have to go to work. Changing from pajamas into exercise clothes is the worst part somehow. Then I have to set up my two phones (YOU HEARD ME: TWO PHONES) to: tether (only one phone is connected to service; the other is for secondary accounts, so has to be tethered to the first phone in order to work away from the house); start planting flowers (Pikmin Bloom); set up a party (Pokemon Go); start a playlist (Spotify). I walk to the start of the nearest Pokemon Go route to get credit for the walk. It takes a lot of props and incentives to motivate me to exercise.

Anyway, I did my little walk. Did a couple of raids (Pokemon Go). Planted a lot of flowers (Pikmin Bloom). I came home and organized my phone-game plunder while stretching. I took a shower. Got dressed. Made coffee.

THEN! Today is WORLD POSTCARD DAY! I have not done Postcrossing for awhile, but my account was still there waiting for me, and in these trying times we grab desperately at any dim spark of interest. A few months ago Postcrossing gave information on printing their annual World Postcard Day postcard, and I found that motivating enough that I: (1) actually went to a local shop and got it printed, (2) reactivated my account and sent a bunch of cards so that I would be able to RECEIVE World Postcard Day cards (you only receive a postcard after someone has received one from you, and I hadn’t sent any in AGES), and (3) then temporarily suspended my account so I wouldn’t receive a bunch of cards BEFORE World Postcard Day. I did not fully understand the algorithm, so I did not do this as well as I could have—but, BYGONES, and I do hope I will receive ONE OR MORE postcards mailed today from elsewhere. And I will know better for next year.

Another thing I did not realize: each Postcrosser can only send TEN postcards on World Postcard Day, to make sure there are enough addresses for everyone. This makes total sense! And the shop I went to, which prints postcard orders in batches of 100 or more, had already agreed to print “only” 50! And also, I’d sent 15 of the 50 in a packet to Elizabeth, who also does Postcrossing. …Still, I have ended up with extra cards. Which is fine! It’s fine! Next year if I do this I might find a different way to print them! Or might offer to send packets of 10 to other Postcrossers!

So this morning I spent a pleasant hour and a half addressing and writing my ten cards. Two of the recipients collect stamps, which is fun for me because I have A LOT of stamps, including lots and lots of the little 1-cent, 2-cent, 3-cent etc. ones. I have ones from years ago, ones that are no longer available. Ones from before “Forever” stamps, so they still have numbers on them! It’s fun when someone says they like penguins and polar bears and Star Trek, and I have (1) a penguin stamp and (2) a polar bear stamp and (3) a Star Trek stamp.

On my way to the grocery store, I stopped at the post office to mail the cards; my hope is that this means they will definitely have today’s postmark. I don’t fully know how postmarks work. Is it GUARANTEED that if you mail something on a particular day, it will have that day’s postmark? I have ASSUMED so, but I don’t KNOW so.

Then, also on the way to the grocery store, a stop at the garden/pet store for the cats’ special Hills Science Diet Oral Care kibbies, which we mix into their regular kibble to help clean their teeth. Out of stock again. I am trying to shop less on Amazon, but it is frustrating when Shopping Local requires not only spending more money but also making multiple attempts/stops. NEVER MIND IT’S FINE.

Then groceries! Taking over a gym in the parking lot before going in (Pokemon Go), even though I know it will be grabbed back before I’ve even left the store. Planting flowers the whole time, up and down all the aisles (Pikmin Bloom). Buying various seasonal/pumpkin things for college care packages: pumpkin spice granola bars; packets of mini pumpkin muffins; jack-o’-lantern-frosted brownies; pumpkin spice hot chocolate packets.

Came home and read the new Jess Kidd book (Murder at Gulls Nest) for hours, with multiple breaks to check in with phone games and eat snacks. (I am cutting in here to say if you try a Jess Kidd book and like her writing as much as I do and so you start going through her other books: her book Himself has such an upsetting dog death in it that years later I am still sorry I read it, even though the rest of the book was great. It was too much. IT WAS TOO MUCH.)

With dinner we watched another episode of The Queen’s Gambit, which I am enjoying as much as everyone else did when they watched it five years ago. We’d delayed mostly because we’d heard it wasn’t appropriate to watch with children? Which I’d assumed meant the same thing as why Bridgerton is not appropriate to watch with children: because neither parents nor children want to be in the same room with each other while some hot guy slams some hot chick into a staircase (YIKES OUCH) / against a wall / to the ground, heatedly/repeatedly, and then causes her to scream after ten to fifteen seconds of rapid vigorous action. But so far in The Queen’s Gambit it’s only been an issue of casual and potentially problematic drug and alcohol use. And our own resident child is 24, not 12, so truly the bigger concern is embarrassment. (I do feel the smoldering potential for embarrassment to happen in later episodes.)

Commenter Rose commented on the weddings and babies post:

Wait, can we have a post where everyone just gets to list favorite kids books?? That would be the perfect compliment to all these wonderful babies you get to enjoy.

(I am prone to giving Jamberry and I am a Bunny to new babies, but I’d love new ideas!)

This is fun, yes.

I find I am unexpectedly a little shy about saying the books I like to give! I am worried they will seem… Well, I guess I am worried they will seem Dated. I am an Older Lady now, and possibly I am giving Older Lady gifts. I think I will choose not to worry about it. Older Lady Gifts are good, is what I am going to choose to believe. We pass the crème de la crème down to the next generation, is how I am going to choose to think of it.

Some of the books I used to like to give as gifts are no longer available for purchase, which I think is one of the reasons I would worry, if I hadn’t chosen not to. Maisy’s Colors, by Lucy Cousins; Farm Animals, by Lucy Cousins; Where Is Maisy’s Panda?, by Lucy Cousins. One Red Sun, by Ezra Jack Keats. Pond, by Lizi Boyd; Forest, by Lizi Boyd. I am so glad I saved my own copies!

Here are the ones I am still able to order new:

(image from Amazon.com)

Blue Hat, Green Hat, by Sandra Boynton. Silly, fun to read. I wish it didn’t now say “(the OOPS book)”. We don’t need to point out the joke. I have also ordered But Not the Hippopotamus by the same author.

(image from Amazon.com)

Where Is Maisy?, by Lucy Cousins. In my opinion, not as good as the no-longer-available Where Is Maisy’s Panda?—but good.

(image from Amazon.com)

I Am a Bunny, by Richard Scarry. I loved loved loved that Rose mentioned this exact same book. I see I have ordered it seven times, more than any other book. I had this book as a child; I had it as an adult and read it to my children; I realize it may look very 1970s now, but I choose to believe that contributes to its soothing charm. I found it soothing to read, and it contributed to my appreciation of the name Nicholas.

(image from Amazon.com)

Pantone Colors. This one isn’t so much fun to read as it is fun to look at, and fun to choose which shade you like best of each color, and fun to appreciate and/or disagree with the color names.

(image from Amazon.com)

Everywhere Babies, by Susan Meyers and Marla Frazee. This one is starting to get harder to acquire. I choose it because the illustrations show many different kinds of families, without making any kind of big deal about it, which is a big deal.

(image from Amazon.com)

100 First Words, by Ms. Rachel. This is the only book I’ve given as a gift that I didn’t read to my own children—and in fact, haven’t read at all. I bought it to support Ms. Rachel, after seeing her anti-genocide posts online.

I have been very lucky: during this time of intense political/cultural suffering, combined with less-intense-but-still-unpleasant job suffering, I have had these three things, each overlapping somewhat with the last, to keep me from being without something wonderful to think about:

• wonderful long-awaited (years of fertility issues) pregnancy news from a distant-but-dear younger cousin, followed in time by wonderful baby news and ongoing photos, and getting to pick out baby clothes and baby board books (their registry was absolutely RAZED, everyone was so happy for them)

• wonderful engagement news from a favorite coworker (approximately the age of my eldest child), followed by ongoing wedding-planning updates and soon a workplace bridal shower I will get to bake a cake for and choose a gift for

• wonderful surprise-baby news from the (grown!) child of another dear cousin, and getting to think about what gift I will send; and they plan to get married sometime after the baby is born, so then I will get to choose another present!

There was a time when I was younger and marriages and babies were happening CONSTANTLY, and then there was a long dry spell where the news was more like divorces and Issues, and now it feels like I am at the small starting edge of another surge of marriages and babies. Friends’ kids are starting to get engaged! Former classmates are grandparents already! HERE WE GO. (How do you write an extended “go” so it doesn’t look like an extended “goo”?)