Kid’s play

It’s only fitting after such a long absence, that I write to you the day after drinking like a sorority chick. I haven’t seen a room spin in a long time, and my new life goal is to never recreate that feeling, like, ever.

During our shenanigans, my neighbor tried to serve me cat food with a nice Oregonian red wine. I set a checkmate with one of his matryoshka dolls in protest.

When I woke up this morning, full of disgust and nausea and a faint memory of video now existing of me playing with a nun, I wished for a plate of bacon. Just a whole heaping pile of bacon. Grease is my go-to in times likes these. But this generation of cats is lazy, and instead of cooking, mine just kept tapping my face until I sadly and slowly got out of bed.

In lieu of bacon, I did the second best thing that could bring me out of a funk: checking out baby animals at Strawbery Banke! Heritage breeds of sheep, pigs, and more will be chillin’ under a big tent until May 1. It’s a small exhibit, but sweet to see babies and protective mamas as a proper rite of spring.

Jacob sheep are one of my favorite breeds. They can grow up to six horns. 
The little bugger in the front wouldn’t stay still. He’s six days old. The one in back is three days old. 


Pig pile!



After sufficient time ogling farm animals, I wandered around, checking out new blossoms and goods in the museum store.

It wasn’t a difficult winter by any stretch, but seeing color start to bloom in New England makes a hungover gal’s heart swoon.
I don’t think this medley was available in 18th century Portsmouth. But I’m just guessing.


If you’re nerdy like me, you read this in the voice of Charlotte Lucas’s dad in the Firth version of Pride and Prejudice. “Capital! Capital!” [files under “I don’t know why I’m single.”]
Portsmouth is undeniably beautiful, even on a cloudy Saturday in April. And everyone was out wandering the neighborhoods and sitting at the outdoor cafes people watching. I can’t wait for gelatto on summer nights in Market Square.


But on this day, I parked myself indoors, set up with a ginger ale and a decadent reuben to finally quell my upset tummy. And I wrote, thinking about how much I miss the simple act of putting pen to paper and of sharing my mischief with you. I’ve allowed myself to become easily distracted this winter, and my priorities have strayed. But now that the weather is warming up and work has settled down, I’m looking to get back to the simple hum my life held a year ago. I am ready to focus on health, exercise, writing, books, adventures, photography… all the things that make me me, but which I’ve ignored over the past six months. And so I take a deep breath, clear my mind, and step forward. Good things ahead.