Only a little stinky

The "corpse flower" actually smelled more like "musty old house flower," but it was fun to go. There's a bit of the eternal tourist in me, that wants to check off sightings and activities, and make sure that my children also have those experiences, so, "Stinking flower? Only blooms every so many years? Check!" Since I balance this by being boring and uninterested in other stuff, I figure it's an okay urge.

And then some of us ended up in the newspaper. Usually my sister and I don't let reporters use our kids' names . . . and we've had some very weird reactions from reporters. But this felt a lot more educational, I guess. Two of mine are in the background of this picture. We have some other pictures of the kids there I'll add to this post when she sends them to me.

Then, the leather-repair place had moved, and the tailor was gone, so it didn't matter that I remembered to bring my beloved but torn jacket into town with me, but we did get oodles of basil and I made pesto for dinner tonight -- three kinds of ravioli: butternut squash with brown butter sage sauce, pesto, and goat cheese and walnut. I'm hungry just thinking about it. Maybe I'll make a tart too. If I get all my whack of grading and teaching done!

Good run doing intervals this morning, and I feel not-injured, which is a very pleasant place to be.

And tomorrow? Tomorrow I win back my body in a really profound way. Thing 4 turns three tomorrow, and that's weaning day. For any of you who have nursed toddlers or who plan to, believe me, I'm not going to miss nursing. Eleven-plus years of nurturing children in just this way has fostered in me a deep, deep appreciation for fancy undergarments, tucked-in shirts, and dresses with no front openings. Really.