The early W gets the worm

An Aztec delicacy here in Mexico is worms, fried, buttered and salted. They look like the mealworms I used for my science project in 6th grade. And since we enjoy making houseguests squirm, E ordered a round at a nice lunch for our guests.

(and the yellowish stuff? ant eggs.)

We all did our part and worked up the courage to try at least one.

If you were blind and had no feeling in your tongue, they would be quite delish.
But our fearless offspring didn't let racist worm stereotypes interfere with her discerning palate. (Or could it be that her palate just doesn't discern?)

She may appear skeptical here, but I assure you, there was no hesitation. I think there's ant egg grease in her hair.

She just dug right in.

And went to town.

And when I say "town," I mean TIZZOWN.

As a witness to all this, I had a mixture of feelings I've never experienced before: a little nauseated/utter pride for my progeny/disbelief. As a compromise, I think I threw up in my mouth a little. And just laughed.

This one comes around once in a lifetime.

Uh, well, you know

So I had all these grand plans to take you through our travels while M&J were here. To wow, awe and inspire you. But, uhhh, it seems I didn't really take as many pictures as I thought I did. Whadyaknow, it turns out they're all of Baby Lucy. This is what my post would be like with the non-Lucy pictures I took (Whadyaknow, turns out they're all of my kids and food. Go figure.):

We went to the zoo one day and bought umbrellas even though it wasn't raining. I'm a good mom like that.

We also went to Frida Kahlo's house, "Casa Azul." (Notice the blue in the background? That's it.)

And of course we got Churros.

The end.

Yeah, it doesn't really do it justice.

But rest assured, Miss Faboolous took pleeenty of pictures (which she generously gave us copies of, but they're on E's computer.) And since she actually knows a thing or two about photography, they're great photos. Check out her post at Faboolous.

And check out Prattastic later, I still have a few pictures up my sleeve, because I know I should leave you always wanting more. I'm a good blogger like that. . .

Nostalgia

Can it really be nostalgia if it's only a month and a half old? It feels like it. We had the pleasure of entertaining some really cool guests in April. We'll start with the first group. Drumroll please...

OMG is it Colin Farrell?!? No, no, Mexican teens. Even better. It's Mike, master of traveling cool. He reeks of cool. He embodies it. . . so much that he was asked for photo ops and autographs throughout his stay in Mexico. I smell telenovela potential, eh Mikey? All I ask is a 10% cut.

Juliann, Miss Faboolous and photographer/artist/awesome-mom/graphic-designer/illustrator/quilter/huge-zoom-lens-owner/sewer/color-picker-outer/decorator extraordinaire. There's nothing I don't covet about her. And I love her.



But (no offense, M&J) the best visitor we've had yet is this little piece of heaven.

She's Baby Lucy.

And baby, oh baby, is she sweet.

Those cheeks are pure bliss.


And she liked me slightly better than E, which is an exception to the rule. (All females from ages 0 to 82 like E better than me. I don't blame them--he is totally hot. . . and a pretty nice guy.)


But I would still daydream about keeping her even if she didn't.


I like to think she would enjoy living with us, since we had such a good time. I miss these guys. So over the next few posts we'll relive our vacation and maybe you'll feel like you were there, too.

The grass is greener

Seriously. You could fall asleep in this grass. You could knit a sweater out of this grass. It's like buttah, baby.

This is the way springtime is supposed to be.


Eat that, Texas grass.

No, not you, Wendy. Don't eat the grass. No--I said DON'T eat it.


And with spring, come caterpillars. Providing hours of entertainment to a four-year-old near you.


(And to a two-year-old.)


Really.


Hours.

But beware: this is what happened when the caterpillar didn't let Sarah pick him up.

Also: be prepared to explain why ants are eating the dead ones. It's trickier than you might think. Go ahead, try explaining to a four-year-old what happens to dead bodies. Why? Will it happen to you, Mommy? When you die? When will you be dead? What if the ants just think you're dead but you're not? Etc. Etc. Then convince him/her that you can't take the dead ones into your house to protect them. Good luck.

Sick, eh? Hours.

The best hours I've spent in a long time.

Psssst

Can I tell you a secret?

I miss you (too).

We have a lot to discuss.

We'll get to that soon enough.

Let's get to know each other again.