Bowls, Babies and Turnips
The thing I like about our mismatched ceramic bowl collection is not only the aesthetics of those different colors and styles and even textures, but also the fact that when anyone requests yogurt or granola or sorbet or cereal or pudding or soup or fruit or what have you, there’s a suitable bowl for that purpose (if, of course, any number of bowls are clean).
It’s Tuesday, which seems to have become blogging day and now, coincidentally is Tuesday Market day—with its propensity to fill my bowls with nifty things. To wit, salad turnips are back.
Talk about a small happy event: the salad turnip’s spring arrival counts. So do the babies’ appearance at the Market each spring—it’s so fun to greet them and glimpse them and smile at them.
The simple three this week: grateful for bowls, babies and turnips.
The three links to make you think harder include this one about the Gosnell verdict, about which I feel somewhat appalled at the way there’s so much vitriol toward him—and not enough toward the agencies that were supposed to regulate clinics not to be like his, but didn’t. I just read Angelina Jolie’s brave op-ed about her decision to have a double mastectomy to decrease her very high odds of breast cancer; every time I read about someone doing this I feel such awe at a clearheaded decision and such frustration that this is the best prevention we have so far. The if-the-tables-were-turned feminist in me goes into the if-men-got-pregnant realm of thought. That’s never a good thing, is it? Mothers’ Day is over, yet I still have carry echoes of Jennifer Finney Boylan’s powerful piece about having been father and mother—and in between.