Something Borrowed

I just became the queen of reference books. As one friend pointed out “How is that a good thing?” Well, I am one of the few people who are unhealthily fascinated by encyclopaedias. More specifically, the entire 30 volume set of Encyclopaedia Brittannica, 15th Edition. 10 volumes of Micropaedia, and 20 volumes of Macropaedia. Stowed away amongst them was Websters New International 3 volume dictionary, including the Seven Language Dictionary. A long craved boon has been fulfilled. I’ve always wanted a multi-volume dictionary. Since the 10 volume Oxford English dictionary will have to wait, these will most certainly do in the mean time! Getting them for free was an added bonus that nearly led to hyperventilation. Thankfully, I escaped bearing four rather large, heavy, boxes, and with my respiratory system mostly intact.
The last few weeks have been a ‘merry mélange of fun and activity’, as it were. Lest I be flippant, I should point out that my stress level has still been very high, but overall, I’ve been able to push that back some. Everyone’s favorite princess turned two, a few weeks after Gabriel did. It was quite the soiree. She seemed tickled pink, which was no surprise, considering the abundance of the favored color. Pink cake, check! Pink frosted crown sugar cookies, double check! Pink tutu and frilly pink skirt. It was quite lovely, what with the pink ad infinitum. Pink is simply perfect for a princess’ party. Gabriel, in his autumn colored checked shirt clashed terribly, and the paparazzi weren’t satisfied until the poor boy was in his white t-shirt. Later, that went too. (With a hearty amount of barbeque sauce and chicken spilled on it, mind you. I took significantly less pictures than normal, because of this:
I mean, really, how can me and my poor little Canon A-1100 compete with that? I only took about a hundred pictures, and that was 100 more than I needed. Now I’m waiting impatiently for pictures to appear on facebook.

Anyway, I’ve recently discovered what a heroic rescuer my mother is. I want to be like her ‘when I grow up’. Sunday, we were sending some friends off, and lo and behold…. A little boy, lying on our lawn, with a bicycle tangled in the vicinity of his shoe laces. Instead of crying or screaming, as most his age would (I estimate his age at 3 1/2 or 4), he simply blinked with owlish eyes, (for a little boy in need of rescuing must blink owlishly, and he did not disappoint) and said “Why hello there.” Upon ascertaining that he did indeed desire (and obviously needed assistance), mummy darling helped free him. He turned out to be quite the little gentleman, with a minimal amount of stuttering as he explained who he was and where he lived. As he rode away, he yelled that he was showing how fast he could go, which turned out to be quite fast for someone his age and height. Judging from the panic that gripped me, I think I’ll be one of those mothers who will have an exceedingly difficult time letting my little boys and girls climb trees or use roller skates, even though I never got hurt doing either of those. (Well, not seriously hurt)
There was much more I planned on saying, but once again time cuts me off.