in which a smell is discovered
back from the 'beck

qotd, harlot edition

"...I am not known for my tenderness. Empathy, yes. Cleverness, sometimes. Wit, most days. Tenderness? No. I am simply not that sort of mother. I am the sort of mother who finds maternal sentiment vaguely nauseating, and I have never cut the crusts off anyone's sandwich. I am the sort of mother who never has a bandage, forgets the extra diapers, and makes up games like 'how long can we go without talking?' or ' let's pretend we're rocks!' just to get a moment's peace. When other mothers gushes about their feelings about their babies and the fulfillment they found in wiping noses and bottoms, I used to have to fake it a little to not get expelled from playgroup."

-- Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, Free-Range Knitter, who I hope to catch up with at Rhinebeck this weekend, for which I've spent the week Getting Ahead On Things so that I can go and relax. With yarn, of course, and old college pals.

And speaking of this weekend, go tell Heidi to walk on with her bad self as she and team Blister Sisters leg it for 3-Days to raise money for breast cancer research.


Awww...thanks for the shout-out. It was easy and then sort of easy and then damn hard and then kind of all right again. And I need a massage and a big bowl of soup. And I want to do it all over again as soon as possible.

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