If the people have no bread, let them eat cake. - Marie Antoinette

As I type this, Terzo is intently trying to jam things down the radiator pipe holes in the hardwood floor. I am fairly confident that, at 21 pounds, 5 ounces, HE will not fit. But I digress.

I took the two younger boys to the bookstore this morning, as an excuse to get some coffee and kill some time in a pleasant way. I do have stuff to do, just nothing that could be done with the two of them around so I figured we might as well enjoy ourselves.

Our Barnes and Noble has a Thomas table, with umpteen trains and all the fancy-schmancy pieces. My boys could play there for hours, were I so inclined.
The baby was not mobile the last time we went, so there was that this time around to deal with, but still, I can sit down, give him a train to chew on (preferably one of the not-popular ones, like Duck), and drink my coffee in relative peace. And oddly, the boys do not fight with each other over the B&N trains the way they do at home - probably because they are busy fending off OUTSIDERS.

I decided that since I had a little extra cash left over this week - no idea how that happened - that I would buy the last Kate Martinelli mystery that I hadn't read. So I bought Night Work.
And Sarah Louise was with us, and she recommended a book she has been raving about, Eat Cake. How oh how could I possibly resist that title? I ADORE cake. So I bought that too.
And then, there's this blog that Gina and I found when we'd first started blogging, consisting of Weight Watcher recipe cards from the seventies that are hilarious, with commentary. The woman who posted them got a book deal - and lo and behold, The Amazing Mackerel Diet Plan book was born. And I bought it. Because I really like to support fellow bloggers.. If you ever get a book deal, I promise you, I will buy your book pretty much as soon as it comes out. Because I am a good friend that way. (Although,I have to say, commentary was completely unnecessary in the Jiffy Cooking cookbook Blackbird and I scored last weekend at the Bethlehem thrift shop.)
I wanted to buy the new issue of Outside magazine, the one where Nando Parrado, one of the survivors of the 1972 Andes airplane crash, has his new book excerpted. It's the first time he's ever talked about his experience, and I can't wait to read it. So I decided to wait and just buy the book instead.



And would you like to know what else I bought? This little porker captured my heart at first glance. He has this precious little curling tail, and those teeny, velvety cloven hooves. He is MINE. He will live on my mantel. He will NOT be slobbered upon by babies, or thrown around by toddlers. (I must have pigs on the brain - in Bethlehem, I barely restrained myself from buying a little plush pig with her little nursling piglets attached magnetically - decided it was a bit to close to home...) Anyway, I think I will consider him my Mother's Day gift to myself.

Speaking of, I still think, despite my lovely day, that celebrating Mother's Day is such a scam. I decided this morning that I would rather celebrate National My-Children-Not-Pummeling-Each-Other-to-Death day. Does anyone know when that holiday falls? And if Hallmark makes cards for it? I actually thought I would be spending my Mother's Day at church and then at the Holiday Inn, eating bad food and observing my nephew's First Communion. Although probably in reverse order. I think that this was incredibly poor timing and taste on the part of the Catholic church, to schedule this on Mother's Day, but what can you do? He's my nephew, it's a big deal to him, and we love him - we go. But Mother's Day is normally when I can count on being taken out for an enormous sushi dinner. Which didn't happen this year. Instead I anticipated - not in the positive sense - undercooked chicken and overcooked green beans and wilted salad. At least there would be cake. Surprisingly, SHOCKINGLY, even, the food was good, the cookies were plentiful, and the cake - it was delicious.