Melt my heart

Today I received in the mail a box. A thank you box. From my dear, sweet, about-to-be married niece. It was the sweetest thing, for in it contained two cute, but understated (perfectly my style) white flutted ice cream dishes from Crate & Barrel (his & hers, I'm sure), a Zyliss Swiss ice cream scoop, a Williams-Sonoma sundae sprinkles kit (for the kid in me), a box of Bahlsen Waffeletten chocolate-dipped wafer rolls, and, my favorite, a picture-filled ice cream cookbook by Liz Franklin. Now I must plan a weekend of heavy cream, fresh fruits (the fresh peach recipe is calling my name), and my little red machine.

Oh baby

Why is it that when ever a baby is born to someone I know I get just a little melancholy? Today I went a saw my friend from college who was blessed with a beautiful boy. I got to hold him, discuss his features, and hear about the moments leading up to his birth. And I was very interested, and excited.

But the sadness I feel isn't neccessarily that I want my own bouncy bundle at the moment. But instead, it makes me wonder: How did the parents get to that point in their lives where they felt ready to become parents? Ready to tackle those tough questions, ready to heal every wound, ready for the sometimes sadness and grief that comes with being a parent.

"There's never a perfect time" keeps ringing in my head. If I've heard it once, I've heard it a million times. But, what if that's just something parents say to keep the regret of not having waited at bay? Surely, there is a more perfect time to become a parent. But to each his own. And my time is not now.

Snowday in August

Love making paper snowflakes? Try making a virtual one...it might be better than the real thing.