The year's last anecdote:

Last night I made Rice Krispie treats with Michelle. She complained they didn't look as nice as the ones in the wrappers. She changed her mind when she tasted one, though. (We made a second batch for her to bring home.) "They're so good! Is this an Alton Brown recipe?" she asked. We made Alton Brown cookies before I left for her and her mother to ice, and she liked watching his Thanksgiving episodes we had on at Thanksgiving, so I guess he's present in her mind lately.

"No, it's an old recipe from the people who make the Rice Krispies," I said, though that may not be exactly true, come to think of it; but that's where I always got the recipe except we added a half-cup more marshmallows.

"Oh. Is this what the ones in the wrappers used to taste like?" she said. I did not laugh; I only pitied her.

Interlopers

I was in the garden a couple of days ago, picking tomatoes and eggplant and pottering a little, and listening to a bunch of kids in one of the back yards abutting mine. There's a treehouse right next to my fence, and every once in a while I find a ball in my yard. (I chuck it back, usually in the yard with the treehouse.) Today, the kids were playing tag, because I heard someone say something about hovering near base.

Then an actual argument broke out, then some scuffling; then a girl jumped out of the tree house into my yard and ran behind my pear tree. I turned and stood, watching, as a boy also jumped down into my yard (staying near the fence, however) and they continued to argue. After a few exchanges the girl turned to me and said, "Did I touch his pop can??"

I said, "I don't know, I wasn't paying attention. But you two are both out of bounds." They got the message and climbed up out of my yard, and I don't know how the argument ended. I told Eric about this later and he said, "Practicing to be a mom already, huh?" Now I'm just wondering if it's not the squirrels after all who keep taking the pears out of my pear tree.

Was it something I said?

We went shopping this past weekend, Eric and I, and at Target I needed to use the bathroom. A mother and her two children were there in the sink area, the mother trying to get the two kids washed up and out the door. The older kid, a girl of maybe four or five, looked at me curiously. I smiled at her and went into a stall. The mother succeeded in washing up her younger girl and began walking out, and the older girl stopped in front of my stall and looked in at me through the crack between the door and the wall. I raised an eyebrow at her. Her mom called to her and she went out. I looked at myself in the mirror when I was washing my hands, but nothing about me seemed particularly wrong or unusual.