Rainy Sunday

...on which my husband is rehearsing for Fiddler on the Roof, my daughter is sleeping soundly, and I should be taking a nap. But I'm never sleepy when the baby is!

It puzzles me no end how the bottle-craze of the Forties and Fifties ever took such widespread hold. It seems to me that between boiling the equipment, buying the formula, mixing it up, heating it over the stove (because microwaves create dangerous hot spots), and washing all the bottles, you have absolutely no net gain in convenience. Nursing is portable, convenient, healthy, and - best of all - free! I think it must stem from the all-too-common human assumption that of course the medical establishment knows best, and that any advance in science must be an improvement on the status quo.

Yesterday we attended a wedding that must be the shortest ceremony I have ever witnessed. We arrived during the gathering music, just before the processional. I don't remember exactly what time we arrived, but the wedding was supposed to be at 2:00. At 2:14 the bride and groom were recessing. Jane (who was invited, fair and square: the inner envelope we received weeks ago was addressed to 'Michael, Rose, and Baby') was as good as gold the whole time.

On the way to the wedding we passed a sign for the town of Braselton.

Michael: Did you know that Kim Basinger owns the town of Braselton?
Me: What about the people who live there?
Michael: Yeah, she owns them too.