Catalog.

I laughed so hard at Catalog Living the other day that I had tears streaming down my face. So, so clever.

Now, I love Pottery Barn. LOVE it. I would be quite happy living in one of their stores. The beds look pretty fluffy, and it would be very easy to throw a dinner party. But once in a while their decorating suggestions really throw me for a loop.

Case in point: The June 25 Catalog Living post. Just last weekend I was commenting to Nate how I don't understand the whole nautical thing Pottery Barn has been pushing year after year. No, thank you, I do not want a huge piece of (fake) coral on my bookshelf. Or a giant lobster printed on my throw pillows. Or a massive pair of oars leaning up against my walls. (I'm thinking it would be all too easy to grab one of those during an argument and clobber someone. So that one's really more of a safety issue.)

I don't live in New England, or a retirement community in Florida. I live in Minnesota. Why would I need a set of heinous Coastal Curiosity salad plates? And how do you think the rest of the country would react if Pottery Barn took its cues from the northern states and started pushing everyone to mount walleye on their living room walls?

Hey, I didn't say Minnesota has good taste. I just said I live here.

But, enough about Pottery Barn and its misguided and overdone nautical product line. I have a busy day ahead of me and I simply must make time to restock my Q-Tip decanter.

What, you don't have one of those? How embarrassing for you.

Water baby.

He's a fish, just like his mama and daddy.

Too bad neither of us look that cool in our pool gear. Kid has style.

Well played.

Pop quiz: Which recently rebuked-by-me retailer is a very bad listener?

Let me give you a clue:


















SHAME ON YOU, MR. BODEN.

The fact is, I brought this upon myself. I clearly stated that we might be able to work something out if he came back with a 40% discount. And that charming, wily man one-upped me by offering 50%.

If there's anything we've learned this week, it's that you should never underestimate the power of the tiny family blog.

Well played, Mr. Boden. My closet thanks you. My self-control does not.

Banshee.

I don't actually know what a screaming banshee is, but if I had to guess what it looks like, I'd guess this:


















Which is why I now own these:





























Anyone have a pair of earplugs I can borrow? I've got some reading
to do.

Sacrifice.

You know what's sad? When you get the chance to spend an evening with three of your favorite people — who you never get to see because two of them moved far away — and you don't get a picture together because you're too busy trying to keep your children from bonking other babies on the head with SpongeBob watering cans (Calvin), eating grass (Vivian), and...well, this didn't really apply to the third kid. John just sat there and looked cute in his bumbo. He's too small to cause much trouble yet.

Oh, well. At least I got pictures of the kids. It's all about them, after all. We're just their lame parents.

Farmers' Market Finds.

I'm not the least bit crunchy. In fact, I'd say I'm a bit soggy. I don't usually buy organic, I still run the water while I brush my teeth (I know, I know), and I almost always forget my reusable bags when I go to Target. Last night my friend Ben was talking about the raw milk movement, and my response was: "Huh? What the heck is that?!" And Nate, with a snicker, replied "Is that when you go from nursing your baby to putting them directly on the cow?" (I love my husband. And that's actually not far from the truth.)

So, yeah. We're soggy. But I do care about what we eat, and although my love affair with McDonald's is well-documented on this blog, occasionally I try to drive past the drive-thru. Plus I have a total fruit monster on my hands (my formerly adventurous eater has decided it's going to be all fruit, all the time or NOTHING), so we have upped our produce intake quite a bit. Which is why the Saint Paul Farmers' Market is where we'll be most Saturday mornings this summer.

We've always loved the market, which is downtown and very convenient for us. Personally, I find the quieter (yet still plenty busy) Saint Paul market to be much more enjoyable than the chaotic Minneapolis one — plus, the SPFM requires all the sellers to be local. Everything you purchase has been grown/baked/created within a small radius of the city. I may not be the greenest girl out there, but I do like to support local businesses as much as possible (which is easy to do here in the Twin Cities).

So, Saturday morning we headed over there, and everything was just...awesome. Strawberries, onions, snap peas and rhubarb galore, tons of fresh herbs, and lots of cut and plantable flowers. We picked up some strawberries for the fruit monster, some basil and mint for us, and some snap peas, which we tried to get Calvin to eat — he's still doing this with peas, though. I also got some fresh flowers for my dining room table, and some crazy good turtles from some guy selling chocolate.

Turns out it's easy to eat well when you have bowls of gorgeous, locally-grown produce sitting in your kitchen. Who knows, maybe I'll get a little crunchier and become part of the raw milk movement.

Or, more likely (much, much more likely), just turn off the water while I brush.

Dear John(nie).

Dear Johnnie Boden:

Please stop sending me emails. Or at least emails including offers I can't refuse.

You see, I am poor. Well, not really poor, but I'm paying an arm and a leg for daycare and diapers every month, and I just got the first of what I have to assume will be multiple student loan balance letters regarding my husband's recently completed education. There is no room for you and your 30% off plus free shipping in my life.

Gosh, 30% off is a really good deal. That means the Amalfi dress I've been eying would only be $70....NO. NO NO NO.

No thank you, Mr. Boden!

You are preying on my weaknesses. Somehow, without even having met, you know I cannot turn away from tiny striped jeans for my son, or adorable printed skirts for me. You know I find your soft cotton fabrics and your whimsical polka dot packaging irresistible. You know I love putting Calvin in shirts that say delightful things like "Pony Ride."

But I cannot continue this relationship with you and your beguiling goods. Truly, I cannot. Please, take your 30% off plus free shipping (Free shipping! Shipping is a significant expense when you're ordering things from England, that's a serious cost savings...) and, well, you know. Keep it. For a while. Just hang on to it for me. I won't always be poor. And when I'm not, well...you and I are going to get to know each other very well.

Until then, dear Johnnie, I remain yours truly,

Abby

P.S. If you bumped the offer up to 40% plus free shipping and free returns we might be able to work something out much sooner. Just saying.