All that happened this week has been dwarfed by the happy news below from Thursday. I only have dregs here.
1. The other morning I joined the drive-through line at Starbucks and found I was behind an identical Mini-Cooper. Red with white top, same year, same trim. I kept wondering if I should honk so she could turn around and be amazed. As she drove away she took the time to turn and wave enthusiastically, and we shared the demographic bond of two people who bought the same mass-produced car.
2. I learned three things recently:
2.a. Until the seventies, “million” and “billion” in the U.K were not the amounts as in the U.S..
2.b. In centuries past, no one slept eight hours straight. They slept four hours, woke up a few hours, then slept another four.
2.c. Steve sat down at my desk this past week and said, did you hear? Hitler had a kid. Now that I see the photo, Hitler’s son looks a little like Hitler and a lot like Steve. (In a similar adoption tale, Friend #3 has discovered she is fifth cousins once removed from Rush Limbaugh. Hilarious.)
2. I am going to start making cheese. I bought all the gear, it seems there are classes, and I tire of pining over raw milk one-month-old cheeses. I am making my own. Not raw at first, but young anyway. Baby cheeses!
8 responses to “Scraps”
So glad to read the article on sleep – have been labelled an insomniac because of frequently being up from about 2-4 or 5 am!
Mare – I find now that I call naps my “first sleep.”
I think my son is on that 4-up-4 schedule. At least he has stopped trying to get the rest of us to join him.
Caroline – what does he get up to at midnight, though? Does he have dinner?
For a while he got up to jump, giggle, and just be 2 for an hour. Now he gets up to come in our room and go right back to sleep.
Caroline – Sounds like he needs a good light breakfast at that time, then back to bed.
Ever since you posted this, I’ve been waking at 2am and lying there for hours in the dark waiting for my second sleep. Like now, for instance. Thanks for that.
Big Dot – See, this is when Gary’s grandparents would get up and eat pickled meats. Try that.