What? I Am Not Interesting? Why Didn't Anybody Tell Me?

Um, actually? People have been telling me. I mean, it's not like they've been that blunt (except a few of you, and you know who you are. Ben), but I tell what I think is a cute story, and the response I get is, "Oh yeah. That's what you said on the blog." Well, crap. I am all out of things to say, then. Maybe I should stop blogging obsessively, but let me tell you something: Research and writing is a lonely and solitary occupation. No matter how many times your spouse asks about your project and listens to what you say (love you, sweetie), no matter how often you meet with your advisor or trade war stories with friends, NO ONE cares about your work the way you do. No one else thinks about it late at night, or stops putting away a bag of groceries to stand still making a metal note about an obscure 1942 article from Human Fertility, or pauses in the middle of playing roll the ball with the baby to wonder if writing a second chapter this summer is a reasonable goal, given the amount of time you expect to spend doing research for a book chapter and revising two essays. Sure everyone can read the finished product (someday), but creating it, worrying about it, sweating over it-- THAT, my friends, is something only the writer can do. By herself. Also? Hanging out with a baby who only says Mama, Dada, that, it, get, hi, no no, and yeah is lonely sometimes, too, even though I babble my head off all day trying to increase his vocabulary by incessantly narrating and labeling. Yesterday, I was speaking so animatedly of my desire to buy sourdough bread for dinner that a woman in Target open-mouth stared at me. Whatever, lady. Maybe if you talked to your kid, he wouldn't be all dull-eyed sucking on his pacifier, huh? I guess what I'm saying is that I'm sorry everything that comes out of my mouth these days is a St. Olaf story, but trust me, the things I am actually thinking about are a lot less interesting-- and probably the reason I keep leaving my ATM card places-- distraction, you know.

Apropos of nothing, here are some pictures we took at the Farmers' Market:





And here we are at the Historical Museum-- there's an awesome old toy exhibit there. Ben and I walked around the room going, "I had that! Oh my god! I had that, too. Oh, and I had that!" Yeah. We had a lot of toys. Since we were there, we decided to check out the whole thing, and we lurved the tractor in the Wisconsin farm room. Harry? Not as impressed.