Four: Love in the Time of CoronaVirus

-
Such magic. Cinco de Abril means our Joyful girl has celebrated another birthday- her 4th to be exact! She and I enjoyed our semi-usual 3.5 mile trek up to the fire station on 24th, and back. Lloyd picked up an essential chocolate cake and pizzas today, and Sayler and I had the wherewithal to get her gifts a few weeks ago pre-Covid19 lockdown. It was a most-perfect birthday celebration at home. In anticipation, I interviewed Alana Joy last night on her last night of being 3. Here were her answers:

1. What’s your name? “Alana”
2. What do you like to draw? “Me”
3. What makes you happy? “My class”
4. What makes you sad? “When somebody hurts me”
5. What makes you laugh? “My class”
6. How old are you? “Six” (she’s 3)
7. How old is Mommy? “Uhhhhhh... I can’t know (panics).... “I still can’t know!”
8. How old is Daddy? (Stressed and panicked) “I CANT KNOW”
9. What is your favorite thing to do? “Play with Sammy” (our dog)
10. What do you want to be when you grow up? “A teacher”
11. What is your favorite food? “Bananas, (Hawaiian) rolls, juice, raisins”
12. What is your favorite song? “Doggie song”
13. What do you want for your birthday: A doggie toy (we got her a stuffed Schnauzer)
14. What does daddy do for work? “Workiser. And he’s a man.”
15. What does mommy do for work?  “You’re a girl. And a man married you. And you’re a princess.” (All true).
16. What’s grandmas name? “Boomer” 😆 
17. Where do you live? “With my family. I want to stay like this all the time”.
18. Where is your favorite place to go? “To the shop”
19. Who’s your best friend: “my mommy and doggy”
20. What is your favorite toy? “Racecar”
21. Favorite thing to do outside: “play with my friends”
22. What is something Mommy always says to you? “Bedtime stories”
23. What is love? “Sharing”











Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"Dear Bobby"

-
Image
"Dear Bobby, I love you. I always look forward to when my husband leaves for work, and you sneak into bed with me. Sometimes, you will wake me up, but usually, you just lie there next to me waiting for my eyes to open." Bobby. You are a cat. But you are the cat of all cats. Unliked some others whose names I will not mention.... you like being a cat. You are my original Obi Kenobi... But you don't like your name and insist I call you "Bobby" or "Bob". You are my predator. You can catch anything- including a rabbit almost twice your size. I remember the time you brought a baby possum into our home. I had just awakened and sleepily headed to use the bathroom when, peering from inside the toilet, was a little possum begging to be released. You cheeky bastard, Bobby. That poor possum. I scolded you and you just turned the other whisker, as if to say "look lady... I am a cat, that's how I do...." The other cats beg for forgiveness when
Read More

The Good Dancer: A Dating Story

-
Image
I once dated a really good dancer. That wasn't his only strength. In truth, he was one of thee absolute best dudes I ever made out with.  He was super funny, smart and we clicked right away. But what struck me as odd was that, for the first time before and since, his good dancing skills didn't turn me off.  (For some reason, a man with too much swagger on the floor has always confused and frightened me a little.)  Oh, and I also don't like when they are so involved in their dancing that they forget you are on the floor with them.  Oh, and when they A. crowd you or B. use you as a prop.  Oh, and when they sing along to songs by female artists.  If you know all the lyrics to "I'm a Slave for You", that's both impressive and embarrassing. (I really did have strange deal-breakers with men...) So here was the first guy who I enjoyed dancing with that was actually a really good dancer.  He didn't crowd.  He didn't sweat profusely.  He didn't sin
Read More

Thank You, My Friend

-
Thank You for reading my blog. Sometimes people say: "I read your blog..." and I hold my breathe for a moment and think about the language I use in my blog. I pray quietly I haven't offended someone's belief system.... that I haven't groaned too much about how much the gym hates me.... or the other way around. I pause as my mind races over my topics.  Have I been too emotional?  Have I confessed too much? But then I want to hug them. I write because, Sometimes I don't know how to say it out loud. Because I want my family to know that my memories of them... with them... are magical.  And they may not remember things just as I do... (And in my memory I am a little bit thinner...) I write because I want people to know that even though I haven't seen them for many moons, I think of them. Often. And I don't want to bore people out loud with stories about how cute my cats are.  In all seriousness, though, They're so cute.  L
Read More