April 29, 2013
I think I need a weekend to recover from my weekend. (Cue Maggie Smith’s inimitable “What’s a weekend?” Although in my case, I’m starting to ask the same thing for the opposite reason.)
To begin with, it was my parents’ 40th anniversary this weekend, and my brother and I have been plotting a little surprise for them for over a year. We didn’t intend to be plotting for over a year. You see, about 15 months ago, my brother called and said that he’d realized our parents would be celebrating their 40th in April, and we should do something, and he had an idea. I called back about five minutes after we concluded the conversation to point out that he was a year off. But we kept his original idea. You know how some people do card showers for big birthdays and anniversaries? Well, we gave them a flamingo shower. By Sunday morning, their lawn was filled with 50 pink flamingos, and there were about 150 inside the house. (Most of those were board-game pieces, so they were very small.) But because there are friends and family from out-of-state, not to mention out-of-country, I spent two hours Saturday evening planting flamingos that had been shipped to me from places near and far. (Yes, I received flamingos from here in town, too.)
And then Sunday was their actual anniversary, so I had couldn’t miss the opportunity to go over and see what had been planted since I’d returned home. And that meant I was available to supply details on who had planted what while I’d been there. (Andy, they thought the beach towel was hilarious. And, yes, your parents did make it down to plant their contribution, too.) It was also knitting group. So there went Sunday.
As for the rest of Saturday, I was in desperate need of groceries, so I went to Meijer’s once I was up. That gave me enough time to take a bit of a nap before heading to Bookbug. You may recall a while ago that I told you how you really must buy my friend Lisa’s book (Starting from Here by Lisa Jenn Bigelow). Well, this weekend’s book signing was for a different friend, and, of course, I highly recommend that you all go out and buy it. And because it is a picture book, I’ve had time to read it since the book signing. And even if I didn’t, Betsy read the whole thing to the gathered crowd.
Giant Dance Party by Betsy Bird is the autobiographical tale of a little girl who decides she’s done with ballet. I know this is an autobiographical tale because I was there. Betsy and I have been friends since we met in ballet class at five. We stayed friends through the highland classes we started taking at eight (or was that seven? I think it was eight…). And even though she’s now this big famous New York librarian occasionally heard on NPR and we hardly ever get to see each other, we’re still friends. And she has written a charming story about a little girl with stage fright. And giants. I don’t remember the giants from when we were kids, but they must have been there if she put them in her book. And even though it sounds like it from what I’ve written, it’s not about ballet. (I’m a bunhead, so I’m a little biased towards that art form.) This book is about dance. And you should go and buy it. For the children you know. For yourself. For the random person on the corner.
And thus went my weekend. I’m looking forward to one that’s not so busy, but the Bank Street Farmers Market opens next week, and it’s also the marathon, and the following weekend is the Medieval Congress, not to mention Mother’s Day… No wonder I spent much of today feeling the need for a nap!