A broad abroad
Enjoying life on the other side of the pond
It’s Mothering Day! I’m writing this early because I know that on Mothering Day, I will be too busy being feted by my first born to write this.1 This will be a fairly brief missive, however, I’ll catch everyone up on my English shenanigans next time.
You’ll think of something…
about visiting my first spawn, a story in texts between an enthusiastic mother and a son who—occasionally—throws her a bone
about what I packed
The boy has the eating habits of a toddler. Which I fought all his life, trying to force him to eat a slice of apple (you can dip it in cinnamon!), a piece of red pepper (a nibble, just a nibble), a goddamn carrot (why won’t you eat like a human being??)2
However, now that he’s an adult3, he can eat whatever the hell he wants, and not only do I not care, but I abet it. I made him matzah crunch, which I’m guessing won’t make it till Passover, and I picked up his all time favorite cookie from our local farm shop.
I sent a picture to his sister. She said, “What’s he going to eat next week?” I replied, “ha ha,” and she said, “No, I’m serious,” and alas, I fear she is correct.
My bag is considerable lighter now (the cookies weigh a surprising amount), so I can fill it up with English goodies.
about the odd things that pop up while researching that distract me from finding what I was actually researching about
This clip is from a newsreel I found on archive.org:
about Bailey
Bailey is the very definition of “any port in a storm.” She’s made herself right at home in our friends’ bed. Hopefully she’ll give them more room than she gives us.
As they (don’t) say over here, tally ho!
Until next time, make good choices.
jennifer
P.S. See that little heart button below? It helps a pal out—if you enjoy my newsletter—to click on it.
This is ignoring the fact that I’ll be up at 7 a.m. and have approximately seven hours until he is awake.
I can’t tell you how first world I felt when he was sent to food therapy.
And to give him some credit, he does actually eat these days. Not as many veggies as I like, but his food repertoire has expanded greatly.









WRITING POLICE! Your third sentence is a run-on, because "however" is not a conjunction. I should probably check on our father since his failure to immediately report an error could be a sign that something's wrong. (Though maybe not, since this particular error isn't one of his pet peeves, as far as I know.)