books read

Katharine S. White, Onwards and Upwards in the Garden (1978). Collection of essays originally published in the New Yorker ca. 1957-68, on various gardening topics, mostly reviews of books on gardening, garden and plant history and identification, and flower arranging, plus discussions of garden and seed catalogs. Very much a personal voice (the author likes old-fashioned flowers and scholarly work; hates dahlias, double anything, and modernist flower arranging).

Deadlier Than the Male: Why Are Respectable Englishwomen so Good at Murder?, Jessica Mann (1981). Contains a a decent (though mostly new to me, so hard to judge) description of the fore-runners of detective fiction in general and by women in particular, "biographical" sketches of the male detectives, and short mostly cribbed biographies of Christie, Sayers, Tey, Allingham, and Marsh. Does not answer the question posed in the subtitle very adequately, aside from making general noises about the orderliness and structure of detective stories, especially those set in classic English villages, and traditional upbringing and lifestyles of (most of) the women considered.

I want a pony

Today was the end of Casper's nursing. We talked about it all week, most of the times we nursed, explaining that this weekend we'd stop, and we'd have a party to celebrate her being a big girl. I explained how she used to be a teeny tiny baby and she couldn't do anything, and now she's grown so big and she can do so much and it's time to leave nursing behind. There were a couple of heartbreaking responses: "Who took my nursie away?" at one point, and "I don't want to be a big girl" and variations on that theme.

This morning she woke at 6 and asked to nurse, and we had a rocky hour and a half that started out bad because I said no. Casper and mr. flea baked a pound cake in the late morning, and we went to the mall in the afternoon to one of the "build a bear" stores which had fascinated Casper once before. This was her big celebration present. They had a variety of charming bears, and I was fond of a big bunny, and mr. flea liked an orange stripy cat. But Casper made a bee-line for a white and lavender horsie with purple sparkly hooves and fluffy white mane and tail and hoof fur. I guess the natural taste of the two-year-old is for sparkles. The horsie was duly named "Pony" and got two pink bows on her ears at checkout, and Casper is now clutching her while watching Finding Nemo (we also have the Super Bowl on but aren't really paying attention, and have eaten black beans, salsa and guacamole).

After the mall we went to visit friends with whom we shared a sitter when Casper was a teeny tiny baby. The sitter was visiting from medical school from Indiana, with her boyfriend (of only 4 months, but it seems serious as they're talking where to do their residencies together - they met at church and then found out they were both in med school). So a nice get-together and Casper and Hadas were great together. Hadas is 10 months older and bossy, which is fine by Casper who followed her around giggling. We brought the pound cake.

We'll see what happens when Casper asks to nurse at bedtime. I except several days of fits of varying sizes before she stops asking.