« Oh good. | Main | How I always imagined parenting would be »



Feed You can follow this conversation by subscribing to the comment feed for this post.

It perhaps reveals my sadly low ambitions, but at the moment, I feel I could be perfectly happy to live a life of train rides, snacks, modest lunches, and sliding on springy moss, especially if all the outings ended with gratuitous cookies and "Cumplemunts of the house, moddom."

I imagine Jane is well familiar with Russell Hoban's Bread and Jam for Frances? I really love all the Frances books, but my oldest sister and I refer ALL THE TIME to the lunch with which "Bread and Jam" ends.

Frances in fact figures so large in our household that we are required to carry on extensive imaginary telephone conversations with Frances multiple times per week! That lunch is marvelous. The doily is a nice touch. I am also quite taken with the hamper lunch in Best Friends for Frances.

HA! My favorite part of the picnic lunch in "Best Friends for Frances" is Frances' feigned off-handedness as she describes it:

"Nothing much. Hard-boiled eggs and whole fresh tomatoes. Carrot and celery sticks. There are some cream cheese- and chive sandwiches, I think and cream cheese and jelly sandwiches too, and salami-and egg and pepper- and egg- sandwiches. Cole slaw and potato chips and of course ice-cold root beer packed in ice, and watermelon and strawberries and cream for dessert. And there are other things I forget, like black and green olives and pickles and Popsicles and probably some pretzels and things like that."

Nothing much.

The comments to this entry are closed.

redfox is a small furry animal, but unfortunately not the sweet and adorable kind. she lives in an awfully large house with her black-bearded husband snarkout and marauding child jane.

see also: the hungry tiger

Dinner reports

More dinners.

Things I Cried Over

  • The Great British Sewing Bee.

  • Window washers.

  • Lilo and Stitch. Repeatedly.

  • "No one was with her when she died."

  • Slings and Arrows.
Blog powered by Typepad