Tuesday, November 18, 2008

risotto is not mushy rice, people!

It was a good day, mostly thanks to the wonderful people in my life.

My good friend Christine treated me to homemade risotto with shrimp, preceded by Nutella-stuffed croissants. Then she entertained Cleo and me for 6 hours and sent me home with a huge bag of newborn cloth diapers to borrow. And, of course, with her big wooden spoon and patient ladling, she taught me that risotto is not, in fact, mushy rice. And THEN she let me borrow that magical little gadget that turns an iPod into a stereo, because just today it occurred to me that taking a loaded iPod to the hospital was missing a vital step in the music listening business. I am such a Luddite.

My more recent friend Jenny thoughtfully brought me her copy of Entertainment Weekly so that I could read about the Twilight movie and scoff about casting choices. Peter Facinelli? REALLY??

Then my sweet husband brought me more Taco Bell, which i've craved horribly (and I do mean horribly) for the past week.

And although my beloved, darling child refused to nap and annoyed the everlovin' spit out of me all evening, she sang a wonderful song on the way home today. Let's call it Mr. Turkey, 2.0. Wanna hear it? Here it goes.

Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Mr. Turkey
Mr. Turkey
Nice and fat
Nice and fat
And big and fat
And fat fat fat
And big and ni-i-i-ce and fa-a-at
Mr. Turkey
We are going to eat him
We are going to eat him
Mom? Mom, I want some turkey please, Mom!
Please, Mom, can I eat some turkey?
Ribbit ribbit
Mr. Turkey

She also put her face up to my belly and hollered, "C'MON OUT, BABY SHMOO! GET OUT OF THERE NOW!" Which is helpful.

...now, if he just had the good sense to listen to his sister. C'mon, Shmoo!

1 comment:

Crystal said...

Shmoo is just wanting to take advantage of all that Thanksgiving turkey and vittles. ;-) He'll be here before you know it.