Seven books and a baby

Rose and Bertha Gugger, Albert Anker Oil on canvas 1883

Over deep dish pizza on New Year’s Day, our friend Dan proudly mentioned that in 2023, he actually read the number of books he had resolved to read. The number was impressive – 42! – considering he is a hands-on dad of two young kids (though not as young as my baby) and works full-time.

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A few thoughts (and a book) for the New Year

Woman reading a novel in watercolor on paper painting by Winslow Homer
The New Novel, Winslow Homer 1877 Watercolor on Paper

Last night I stayed up late reading Gabrielle Zevin’s Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow. I had to request it twice from the library before I actually started it, and when I finally did, had to give it a few goes – mainly, getting past the first chapter – before I was running off into the world and finding myself reluctant to leave, even though it was nearing 3AM.

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The Bear and I

Two months after my friend gave birth to her second child, we met up for lunch at a cafe, on a tree-lined street in Redfern. Normally extremely punctual, she arrived a few minutes late, but this was by design. As she approached the cafe, she saw that her baby was beginning to doze, so she took an extra loop around the block to ensure he made it to the land of Nod. A small investment for what she hoped would be a cry-free lunch.

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This is Not the Age

When Artie was around 18 months, Tom and I felt like we’d gotten into a good rhythm. I’d written this post a few months before and was still enjoying this early phase of toddlerhood. Artie was happy at home, happy at his daycare, happy at our friends’ homes and various playgrounds where he proved to be surprisingly independent. He was always down to explore or up for a jump.

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