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Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Showers and Presents and Pavarotti


The labs newest postdoc, assigned the operational nickname 'Lucy', had her baby shower on Saturday at The Teaching Ones house, and it was beautiful.  High tea has to be one of the best tea-oriented activities ever, and TTO's baking was sublime.

Its only the second shower I've been to (two in one year, an indication of my own age?!), but they are always the most female-convivial atmosphered things.  Celebration and anticipation and excitement.  And a whole lot of confused wonder from the unmarried/unchilded attendees.

The whole institution had me thinking about presents, I always tend towards books as gifts for expectant parents - bedtime stories and reading in general has to be the best thing you can give a child (ignoring those plebeian things like unconditional love and food and shelter and so on), and I figure close family and childed-friends will know better about powders and bibs and creams and so on, than I.  However, I am always struck by guilt - I feel that the shower sitch, before the baby is born, should be about the mother - the mother should get presents.  She is putting in all the work and effort and self-sacrifice.  Your body becomes an oven subject to the needs and whims for nine months of the parasite within, for godsake.  But no, right from conception, its all about the child.  Perhaps its best to get used to it right away.

I also find myself slightly jelly of people with skill in the garden - a plant you have grown yourself is perhaps the best gift, and one I shall probably never master.  Opportunity for crafts, perhaps...

On a completely different tangent, I'm on an opera kick at the moment.  Pavarotti especially, but after Who Sunday night I'm thinking I should dig out some Carmen.
And to certain people who both scorn my taste in music, offend via the accusation of posturing and claim to not religiously follow my blog ramblings - you can kiss my temporal lobes.  I see right through you.

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