Let’s get crackin’.
A picture is worth a thousand words:
I don’t know if you understand the full implication of what 83 degrees means to a Michigander. Especially a non-native quasi-Michigander after a loooooooooong winter.
Let me tell you: It’s a BIG deal.
Now that we’re no longer buried alive in the Arctic tundra, maybe we can stop talking about the weather.
This is what’s going on around in this one-horse town:
As the saying goes, if it ain’t Dutch, it ain’t much!
“If it ain’t Dutch” reminded me of the bumper stickers I once saw at the Junction City (Oregon) Scandinavian Festival: It’s Great to be a Dane… Everyone Loves My Swedish Meatballs… Living with a Norwegian Builds Character…
Cultural heritage is cool. I really love hearing the whos, whats, and wheres of cultural family life.
Take, for example, my husband’s family. My father-in-law? Half Puerto Rican; the rest German-Irish. My mother-in-law? 100% Italian-American–Neapolitan by way of Brooklyn by way of Lawn Guy Land, if we’re going to be specific. Result: Way, waaaaaaay too much good food at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Seek ye the outer edges of gluttony, and ye shall find my mother-in-law’s meatballs there, waiting to be devoured.
Myself, I’m mostly Anglo-Irish with a healthy dose of Danish and German and a smattering of a number of other things that make me 100% Heinz 57. A friend of my mom’s cousin did our family genealogy for him, and apparently we’re descended from the Plantagenets, which makes me related to all sorts of wonderful folks like (French) St. Louis IX… and some not-so-wonderful folks like Eleanor of Aquitaine and Bad King John. All in the family, right?
We Americans of common English stock have a hard time thinking of ourselves as having a cultural heritage. Patriotism, sure, but that’s different than culture. Our great big adios in 1776 from the Mother Country leaves us with something of a disconnect. Who wants to be English-American? Seriously.
And, yet, we’re OBSESSED with England. Literature. Jane Austen. Elegance and tea and crumpets. Riding a white horse over the misty downs. Doctor Who. SHERLOCK. Will and Kate and cutie-patootie George.
We told Mama England what-for 238 years ago, but, you know, we can’t forget her.
Let’s talk about the May Clean-Up Link-Up. Missy, awesome lady that she is, agreed to do the May link-up over at Real Housekeeping. She decided to clean her linen closet, but my linens are in my bedroom closet and I cleaned out my bedroom closet a few months ago. What to do?
Fate, it seems, made my link-up decision for me.
It started with a bookshelf. I purged my books last week and had an empty shelf. So I moved some books from one shelf to another.
Innocent enough. Right?
Somehow, over the course of… 30 minutes? an hour?… my office devolved into this:
Books. They get me every time.
This morning the office looked like this:
And the closet, like this:
If you want to know why I haven’t emailed any of you back, RH contributors, well, now you know.
Look who’s sitting up all by herself!
That’s all for me this week. Ta-ta—said with a cuppa in hand and a pinky up.