Barefoot Kitchen Witch

2003-11-02T13:42:00.000-05:00

I'm Moving

From Blogspot. I wanted a few more bells and whistles, a few more toys to play with...so I've made the jump. Bear with me while I tinker around with the look of the new place.

Anyway, this will be the last post on this site, so please update your links - I can now be found here.

See you later!

2003-11-01T13:04:00.000-05:00

Sour Skittles

We had a decent number of trick-or-treaters last night. And the nice thing is that they were all decent, polite kids. In costume. In other words, they earned their candy.

I don't think teenage kids who just shuffle through the neighborhood in little gangs, holding out their king-sized pillowcases and barely making eye contact deserve any candy, personally. And they don't even say "trick or treat" half the time. Just hold out the bags.

But we didn't have any of them this year. Or last year. I think it's the neighborhood. The majority of the kids around here have manners.

Two boys, probably around 11 or 12, came to the door at one point last night...I don't even remember their costumes, I think one was dressed up in a suit and wearing a hat, and maybe the other one was something scary-ish. Anyway, I handed out the candy to them and they were just about overjoyed at what they got - sour skittles.

The top hat kid looked up, like it was Christmas, looked me in the eye and thanked me several times. It was nice. I should have given him extra, now that I think about it.

And speaking of "thank you" - before Alex went to bed, any time he heard kids at the door say thank you, he called out his own thank you from the living room.

Alex was a bat this year, by the way. Very cute. Bill took him out to a few houses near us, and Alex held his little basket and said "thank you" and "bye bye" to everyone. We didn't think to try to teach him "trick or treat" this year.

When they got home Bill gave Alex some bits of a candy bar...he's trying to get him addicted to sugar, I believe. And Alex enjoyed it. But he preferred the mashed potatoes I had reheated. So much so that he refused any more candy in favor of more mashed potatoes. This morning he preferred part of a bagel with smoked salmon and cream cheese over a pumpkin muffin and a chocolate croissant.

Of course, that could change at any point.

Gotta go - we are trying to get our basement cleaned out in preparation for the ceiling repair, the new paint on the walls, and the new carpet. I cannot wait until our basement doesn't look ugly any more.

2003-10-31T05:36:00.000-05:00

Happy Birthday, Meredith!

Today is my sister's birthday. Last night we had dinner for her at my parents' house - Mom & Dad, Meredith & Jacques, Calvin and Natalie, Steve & Colleen & Amelia, and Alex and me. (Bill had a rehearsal.) The usual meal - Chicken Paprika, noodles, squash, broccoli, peas, rolls, and something chocolate for dessert. This year it was chocolate fondue with bananas, strawberries, pears, apples, pound cake, macaroons, and marshmallows.

Some things about my sister and me....

* My memories begin with her birth. I am with my Dad's father (Grandpa) in a parking lot outside of the hospital. (Kids weren't allowed in then to see their new siblings.) I am standing on the hood of his old, faded yellow car, blowing a police whistle and waving a small American flag. Inside the brick hospital, in one of the rooms, are my mother and my new baby sister.

* Family lore has it that when my parents brought Meredith home from the hospital, I was in the kitchen with both sets of grandparents, waiting, and when they walked in the door I cried out (with joy) "My baby sister!" I don't remember it, but they say it's true.

* I have a memory of standing near her changing table, looking up at her little bare stomach and seeing the stump of her umbilical cord there, black and strange.

* My sister and her husband, Jacques, have been married nearly 14 years.

* She and I are a daunting team against anyone at Pictionary. Ask my parents. Ask Jacques and our cousin Steve. They have lost to our near psychic abilities.

* She and I share the same sense of humor. It is not always kind. We share a love of "falling stories" - episodes in our lives when we or our friends have fallen - down stairs, mostly, or tripped - just a word or two to conjure up one of these episodes will send us both into helpless hysteria.

* She is my reality check.

* I was sometimes a mean older sister. She'd want to play and I'd tell her "one more chapter" of the book I was reading...and then go on to the next chapter and tell her "I'm almost done..."

* The enemy of my enemy is my friend: when we were in the midst of little squabbles as kids, one or the other parent would come up to our room and ask what was going on. We would clam up and answer "nothing!"

* We are friends.

* She is currently an orange belt in Karate. Don't mess with her.

* She follows her own path and always has.

* When we were little sometimes we were dressed in either identical or matching outfits.

* When we were little, our father told us that the breaker switch up in our bedroom closet would blow up the house if we touched it. We still believe that and won't go near it.

* Because of my sister, we had a succession of cats as pets. The first was Pumpkin. When we found her downstairs (where my parents had left her for the night), I told Meredith (it was her birthday) to "go upstairs and see if it's yours!" I was bossy. The cat was hers.

* Today there are, in addition to 4 people living in her house, one cat and 5 birds.

* She is a terrific gardener.

* She took piano lessons for 7 years and could play along with the piano solo in Billy Joel's "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant" when she really psyched herself up for it.

* She is a great Mom and a great Auntie. And a great sister.

* And she makes the best cinnamon toast of anyone I know.

Happy Birthday, Mere!

2003-10-30T05:57:00.000-05:00

Aaaaaaahhhhh

I think I'm passing my queasy phase...the smell of coffee this morning is now a good thing once again....

2003-10-29T16:30:00.000-05:00

12 Weeks

I am 12 weeks today, based on a due date of May 12th. If I remember right, 13 weeks is the end of the first trimester, but regardless - it's hard to believe one third of this pregnancy has already just about zipped by.

Alex stayed home today. He woke up around 3 this morning and felt very hot. Had a temp of 102.5 so I gave him some Tylenol and juice and brought him in bed w/me. He just kind of whimpered for a while and then fell asleep. Poor little guy.

Bill stayed home with him for the first part of the day and brought him to the doctor as well. Probably a virus. He had the same thing happen over the weekend, then two good days, and then apparently a new virus jumped in and took over. I came home from work early so Bill could go teach his college students tonight, and Alex seemed a lot happier. He's taking a nap right now, which is why I get to type a bit.

He is going through a hitting phase. I don't think it's a malicious thing, I think it's just a testing-the-boundaries thing. Most of the time. And he'll say "uh oh" immediately after, which is what some of the people at daycare say to mean "no" or "don't do that." So he kind of knows he's not supposed to do it...but I think he's still testing. He also tends to do it when he's heading toward being tired.

His other new thing is this - he'll stand in front of me (I'm sitting on the floor) and his expression will suddenly go very serious - and he'll fall forward at me. Arms at his sides, body straight. And of course I catch him, which is tons of fun, in his little "nothing can harm me" opinion.

He is very very ticklish at the back of the neck. Screams with laughter and wriggles half in delight and half in a weak attempt to get away. Then he'll move his head back within tickling range, a little anticipatory grin on his face....

I also think he said "I'm sorry" to me earlier. He was on the chair in the living room, standing up (which he's not supposed to do). I told him to sit down, and after a bit of grinning at me and saying "Hi" in his charming way, he gave up and sat down. And then said what sounded like "I sowwy." Which startled me - his first sentence! And I blurted out "You're sorry?" And he thought that was incredibly funny and just laughed at me.

So I don't know. I don't know.

He is full of surprises.

2003-10-28T19:05:00.000-05:00

Random Facts

I thought this was an interesting exercise (thank you, Sheila), so here are as many random facts about me - unrehearsed (well, except one that I was thinking about on the drive home from work) as I can think of before the timer goes off and I have to make the gravy for the chicken I'm roasting. Here goes...

* When I was 10 I grabbed a 9 year old boy by the throat with one hand and squeezed very hard and told him to stop picking on this 8 year old boy he'd been about to beat up. (the 8 year old lived kind of near us, and my sister and I had been trying desperately to teach him self defense. he was an easy target for bullies. we failed.) The 9 year old nodded his head, his eyes and tongue kind of popping out, and I let him go.

* I used to want to be a boy. (this is probably when I was 10). Some girl I knew told me if I repeated my wish (didn't tell her what it was) over and over 10 times and then yelled it loudly the last time, it would come true in a month. It didn't.

* I don't like little yappy dogs.

* I am more comfortable in my mind than in my body.

* I have plenty of talent in various creative areas...but unfortunately I lack drive, and that's really the deciding factor, isn't it?

* I have a handful of very, very good friends. The rest come and go.

* I argue best on behalf of anyone but myself.

* When I was very young (6, maybe) I lip-synched (sp?) to the sound track of My Fair Lady (the Broadway version) in my grandparents' living room in NJ and my grandfather told me to sing out...but I refused, because I knew I didn't sound like Julie Andrews and so why even bother?

* My sister and I and my best friend Dolores and her brother "put on" a haunted house two years running when we were in ( I think) junior high, or younger. We actually caused some little children to cry.

* I once freed a starling that had its legs stuck in my parents' stockade fence. After it flew out of my hands, I started shaking uncontrollably.

* I have one sister, Meredith. She is two years younger than I am.

* I had a red plaid metal lunchbox in elementary school.

* Two of the attendants on "my side" of the wedding party were men.

* I had a perm once. Once was enough. I'm supposed to have straight hair.

* I once ate so many "thin mint" girl scout cookies that I had a sugar hangover the next morning.

* I once had two (or three) of the margaritas that my husband makes and ended up singing "The Star-Spangled Banner" on the couch in my apartment. My dear friend Ralph called right around then to tell me he was going to a dermatologist because he had a spot on his nose that wasn't going away, and he thought it might be cancerous. All I could say, in a desperate, hazy attempt at sympathy was "You have nose cancer?" He laughed hysterically.
(And he's fine, by the way.)

* Sometimes I am absolutely terrified of losing my parents. It freezes me and I well up with tears. The rest of the time I keep it at bay.

* I know with complete certainty that I could kill or die for my son.

And that's all I have time for. The timer's going off and I have gravy to make.

Goodnight!

2003-10-28T18:45:00.000-05:00

I'm sorry, what?

Alex went to bed early...my husband isn't due home for another 40 minutes or so...dinner is cooking and smells wonderful...and here I am with FREE TIME on my hands...so I came in here and sat down to type...and then sat here staring vaguely off into some other, slower, dimension...totally zoning out. I'm tired. I would like to go "ni-night" too, to be honest.

But dinner would burn, the alarms would go off, and I'd have really nasty pans to clean, so never mind that option.

So here I go...trying to gather the thoughts I had earlier and shape them into something coherent....

....................................um.

Well, I met with the contractor this afternoon to discuss what needs to be done to get our basement back in shape after the flood we had in August. While he was here I felt my brain dissoving back into the quicksand it often becomes these days, so I felt myself nodding stupidly as he went over all this stuff - particularly the part about the money, which, of course, is most important to him. I wanted to say, at one point, "don't worry - we have plenty of money" - which we don't, not plenty like it's dripping off our clothes...but I just wanted him to stop speaking in tongues, basically.

He asked how soon we could have the basement cleaned out...and...I said by Monday. Don't ask me how that's going to happen, either. I haven't figured it out. Bill teaches late tomorrow night. He's got a rehearsal the next night, plus we're celebrating my sister's birthday that night at my Mom's house, so I'll be there, not here. Friday night is Halloween, plus Bill has a concert. That leaves the weekend. Oh, and he's got a gig of some kind on Sunday in the middle of the day.

Which would be fine except for the big heavy furniture that needs to come up from the basement and go either out by the curb (we're going to replace the sofa and recliner that got wet and are now mildly stinky. they were second-hand anyway.) or into the garage (the entertainment center and corner cabinet his father made years and years ago..and the little table and chairs. Well, okay the table and chairs aren't heavy.)

And this is a problem because I can't help him lift these big heavy things. I could, for in addition to being a great cook I am also more powerful than a locomotive and able to leap tall buildings and all that...(no, wait, that's Superman...I meant Wonder Woman...but if I spin around like that I'll get dizzy and throw up...and at the moment I'd look really scary in that costume.) But of course, heaven help anyone reading this, I digress...

The thing is - while I'm pregnant, I don't want to risk anything. Yes, when I was pregnant with Alex I was also helping move all our furniture from our little rented cottage to the house we live in now...but I have grown more cautious two years later, and besides, I didn't know I was pregnant til after we moved. Now I know. And if for some reason - any reaon - anything happened with this pregnancy after I helped move some furniture up some stairs, well, I'd be blaming myself forever, and I carry around enough random stupid guilt about stuff as it is.

So.

I emailed our friend John to see if he's got ANY free time between now and Monday. Problem is, he works weekends, so that leaves very little free time that will overlap with Bill's free time. Same with my brother-in-law. But we'll figure something out.

Actually I should probably be downstairs now gathering up the smaller things that we can move up and stow elsewhere in the house.

But as I mentioned earlier - I'm tired. So I'll chill for now. I'll plan my attack, and I'll start the small phase of the "move" tomorrow night.

Yes, that sounds good.

2003-10-28T06:07:00.000-05:00

Retraction of my Retraction

After some strong and much-needed verbal shaking, (thank you Beth, Sheila), I realize that there is no need for me to apologize or explain the "Fertility Goddess" title of my other blog.

They're right - I am a fertility goddess...at the very least, I'm starting to look like one of those ancient stone carvings...the round, voluptuous, not-in-the-least-like-a-supermodel ones...

2003-10-24T18:26:00.000-04:00

Obnoxious?

It has occurred to me a couple of times that the name or title of the blog that I linked to in the post below and the little subtitle under it may come across as cocky and obnoxious. Something which I know I am on occasion, but which I don't mean to be about the pregnancy.

But when I decided to create that little blog, I was, well, pretty damn happy to be pregnant again. And my husband jokes that he only has to look at me and I get pregnant...which strikes me funny, in light of the fact that I'm on the higher side of 35 and was afraid it would take me forever to become pregnant when we first started trying. Granted, I've (so far) had one successful pregnancy out of 3, and this one (#4) is pending...so sure, I can get "with child" - the question I worry more about is whether I can carry said child to term.

And, with that in mind, I suddenly thought how obnoxious my "Fertility Goddess...So Worship Me Already" thing might come across. Trust me - I am supremely grateful for my son, and I am supremely grateful for the little one I'm carrying now. I don't take them for granted at all.

And so now I think I'm sounding like a wimp, retracting my Fertility Goddess claim...so I think I'll just get off the subject before I lose all self respect.

2003-10-24T06:14:00.000-04:00

A Little Bit of News

I've been working on a little project recently...well, actually it began as more of a collaborative effort.

But anyway...

2003-10-19T16:10:00.000-04:00

Swiss Steak

No, I'm not posting a recipe. Sorry - this is really quick...

Got an email from my Mom this morning and in it she mentioned that the Salmon they had for dinner last night was good, and that they were having Swiss steak for dinner tonight - which she had cooked all day yesterday in the crock pot. (We always talk food.)

I zipped off a quick email back (Alex was demanding that I play ball with him) and in it I indicated that I hoped they enjoyed their dinner tonight.

And I just got an email back, in which she asked "Enjoy the Swill steak???? Could you define it sometime?"

I looked down at my attached email - yep, I typed "Swill steak."

I just sat here and laughed and laughed.

That's all. Just wanted to share.

2003-10-17T05:58:00.000-04:00

Dammit.

And this sums it all up for me.

Grady Little lost that game. Even I knew that Pedro should have been taken out before Matsui came up to hit. And it's Grady Little's job to decide that in the best interest of the TEAM, and the GAME, and them GETTING INTO THE WORLD SERIES, Pedro had had enough. But no. He let Pedro decide. That's not what a manager is supposed to do. Especially not RIGHT THEN IN THE EIGHTH INNING WHEN THE RED SOX WERE STILL AHEAD!!!!!!!!

Bill went to bed as soon as NY tied it up. I stayed through the first half of the ninth, but I was tired, having had very little uninterrupted sleep this week, and I just knew. I just knew.

Dammit.

2003-10-16T10:37:00.000-04:00

Still at home...

And feeling better in some ways but this throat is still horrible. I went back for another strep test this morning. I kept thinking the nurse who did it Tuesday didn't get enough gunk from my throat on that giant q-tip, but apparently she did, because it was negative again.

Then the doctor thought it would be a good idea to test me for mono (even though I don't feel like I have it, and I should know, as I had it about 5 years ago and the only time I've ever felt like that since was this past summer when I had a small bout with Lyme disease.) But anyway, the doctor's reason for wanting to test me was because I have pus pockets on my throat. Pus pockets! I told my sister later - it sounds like something Colonel Potter from M*A*S*H would say, you know, like "horse hockey." "Pus Pockets!"

Of course, the test was negative, I don't have mono, and now I can look forward to the fun of ripping this band aid off my arm later. More pain. Sigh.

One good thing to come of this current horrible sore throat has been the entertainment factor for Alex. (And if he's amused, I'm happy.) The other night I was standing at the sink gargling warm salt water and spitting it out. As I do so frequently now. And I noticed, with my mommy powers of peripheral observation, that I couldn't hear Alex doing anything anywhere. Which usually means he's doing something that he shouldn't be doing, like climbing up the stairs without a safety net, or getting into a cupboard that I didn't lock, and so on.

So I looked around to begin my search for silent boy - and there he was. Just standing there, a bit to my right, a bit behind me. Standing there, little blond-haired, blue-eyed guy in navy blue feetie-pajamas, looking up at me with a mixture of surprise and delight and awe on his little face...his mouth was partly opened, and there was part of a cookie in there that he wasn't even bothering to chew - he was so fascinated by this strange new thing that mommy was doing.

Mommy took a sip of something, tilted her head back, and made funny noises while the water or whatever it was splashed around a bit, and then she spit it into the sink. And then she did it again! And again!

I turned to look at him again after the next spit, and he laughed. Didn't budge from that spot; just laughed. For the whole rest of my gargle session.

I got the feeling that so far, in his eyes, that's the coolest thing I've ever done.

2003-10-14T15:17:00.000-04:00

I didn't realize it had been a month

...since my last post. I knew it had been a while. And I think the biggest reason I'm writing today is because I'm home, sick, with what feels like strep, but the test came back negative, so it's "just" a horrible sore throat, swollen glands, some achiness, slight temperature, and that sort of fun stuff. Since my job requires a lot of talking - I'm not there.

Before I proceed any further, just want to mention that a portion of my last post was actually excerpted here shortly after I wrote it. Thank you, Jeri, for the request and for excerpting me, and also for your recent email. And thanks to Sheila and to my Aunt Joan (who asked my Mom about me) for also asking if things were okay, and what was going on... I haven't stopped blogging. I just ran out of spare time for a while.

And that's been it, really. I got overwhelmed by everything and something had to give, and this was it.

Everything: work, taking care of my husband and my more-and-more-active-every-day son, taking care of the house...it doesn't sound like much listed like that, but there are a hell of a lot of sub-categories.

Plus there have been Red Sox games to watch, and the TV is downstairs and the computer is upstairs...so...you know. I had to watch. (Little note to Trot Nixon - no, sorry, Jesus couldn't be with you at bat last night, he was busy. It was really me, in my fevered, delerious state I actually left my body, floated north to Fenway, and helped you out with that hit. But you don't have to thank me. No one's heard of me, so they just wouldn't understand.) Ha ha. Well that was pretty goofy, wasn't it. I think it's the fever coming back...

You know, gargling with salt water is pretty unpleasant. But I have to say it helps for a while.

What else...well, Alex is a wild little man. His vocabulary is expanding, which is thrilling and entertaining. He says "Hi" and "Bye bye" (Hi sounds like Hi-ee), he's working on "shoe" and "sock" and he knows what a nose is (it's that thing on Mommy's face that he likes to try to explore with his quick little fingers. Really. Bill asked Alex "Alex, where's your nose?" and Alex turned to me and grabbed my nose. His property, I guess.)

And he says "Get down!" with appropriate accompanying hand/arm gesture. He was trying to climb over the couch so he could fling himself headfirst onto the fireplace hearth (don't worry, Alex, I'm sure you'll succeed someday), and I said, in my "don't mess with Mommy" voice "Alex, no!" and he turned around with a serious expression on his little face that matched mine, and waved forcefully at me and said "Di Dow!"

It is SO HARD not to laugh hysterically at these things. It was so cute. And he said it a few more times, to show me he knew what I was trying to tell him. And I said "That's right, Alex, get down" and he said "di dow!" again, then turned and hiked one knee back up onto the couch and started climbing again. So I think he knows the phrase (I'm assuming daycare, since I don't wave my arm at him like that.) but he either doesn't completely understand it or doesn't care. I think, judging by the "I'm damn cute, aren't I" little grin he wears at moments like that, that he doesn't care.

Oh - another one - "round and round" - which is "wow a wow." I'm sure he learned that from "The Wheels on the Bus", but he also applies it, correctly, to the lid of a trash can that I use as a hamper in the kitchen (for his bibs, dish towels, and so on). The lid spins "wow a wow" and he likes to play with it.

And he's getting tall!! He discovered that he can finally reach the ice and water dispensers on our fridge. (Bill was the witness to this one. "Oh honey...guess what your son can do...") Thank you to Kenmore for that lock option, otherwise we'd have a huge flood in the kitchen and a very soggy little boy.

(little side note - applesauce feels really good on a sore throat)

Oh - more Alex things, why not. Speaking of his new words, (not sure if I wrote about this already or not, but if I did, then this would just be an update) for a while he had us stumped. He would shout "DIE!" "DIE!" "DIE!" And, as that is not something Bill and I shout at each other on any regular basis (or irregular, for that matter), we were a little curious about that one. I really didn't think daycare was really a training camp for tiny thugs, but you never know... Anyway, one day I figured it out. He was shouting "Die! Die!" and pushing against the back door. Aha - "outside." That was better. But now he doesn't say that (and I kind of miss it). Now he says "daDEE" for "outside." I haven't figured out that one other than now he's got the two syllables in there.

What else does he say..."more" "juice" and "ba." "Ba" means a couple of things, depending on how he says it. The casual "ba" usually refers to milk or a sippy cup. But said happily and joyfully, it means "ball." Currently, all his toys could completely disappear but as long as the balls remained, he would be happy. He has at least seven. There are two whiffle balls, a little squishy soccer ball, a slightly larger yellow and red soccer ball, a blue rubber ball (think kickball in elementary school - that's kind of the texture), and a big red bouncy ball, and a couple of squishy sponge-like balls that our friend John gave him for his birthday because they are tub or pool toys that soak up water and can be thrown at other people and I know John was hoping Bill would be on the receiving end of those throws. Because that's the kind of friendship they have.

Okay, I counted, and that's eight. And there are more little plastic balls the size of golf balls, but they are currently hiding (in fear) under the furniture.

Yes - in fear, I say. Alex throws hard. I'm thinking 90mph at times. Trust me - I've been hit in the head with a whiffle ball, so I know what I'm talking about. He either likes to throw them down the stairs (and then go to whichever parent is closest and indicate that he is quite beside himself because all the balls have escaped and he needs someone to go and get them since he hasn't figured out how to open the gate that blocks that stairway yet...and he's still too short to climb over.) OR he likes to thrown them to/at Mommy or Daddy. Sometimes two at a time. Strong overhand throws that are, frankly, intimidating. Especially when you look at his face. You know that totally focused look you see on close-up shots of the pitcher at just about any ball game? Well, they ain't got nothing on Alex. You really want to scare the batter? Smile! That's right. A big, drooly excited grin is way more scary. Especially when he throws two balls at you. And then he laughs.

Speaking of which, I have to go now. Today's game is starting in a moment, and I will also have to go get Alex in a little while.

Anyway, so here I am, back again. Not sure how frequently I'll be writing, but I'll try to get back in here more often.

2003-09-14T19:15:00.000-04:00

Head 'em Up, Move 'em Out

I don't know if I've got the lyrics right, but that's how I felt a bit earlier. Not like one of the cowboys, but like a fat little dogie.

Bill, his brother, Bob, Alex and I went to the Nordic Lodge for an early dinner today. Bob has been in the past; Bill and I have never been. And neither has Alex, that I'm aware of.

Anyway, the Nordic Lodge is famous in these parts for their all-you-can-eat Viking Buffet!! Apparently the Vikings, when they weren't singing long, dismal, militant, operatic tunes, and killing people, loved to dine on lobster, peel-and-eat shrimp, steamed clams, raw oysters, filet mignon, fried seafood of every kind, seafood salads (mussel, calamari, shrimp, etc), pasta salads, smoked mackerel (too salty), shrimp and scallop scampi, baked stuffed shrimp, a few pasta dishes, a variety of fresh fruits, about a dozen or more different kinds of pies and cakes, mini pastries, tapioca, chocolate pudding, chocolate covered strawberries and cherries, and make-your-own sundaes featuring every flavor Haagen Dazs makes.

I don't think I'd make it as a Viking.

The Sunday winter hours are from 2:00 pm to 7:00 pm. We arrived late - around 3:00. We should have come at 1:00 - the wait would have been the same. But it was nice outside and the grounds are well cared for, so Alex got to work off some energy and impatience thusly:

Alex strides purposefully toward the little pond behind the Lodge.
Alex is picked up by whichever adult is closest.
Alex struggles mightily and cries angrily at being thwarted from his attempt to actually stride purposefully right into the water.
Alex is carried far, far away from the water.
Alex strides purposefully toward the little pond behind the Lodge...

Each time, his expression grew just a little more determined - which is very amusing in a 15-month-old.

Later, after he finally gave up on the water, he found solace in a layer of small rocks - part of the landscaping, actually. He plunked himself right down and grabbed a few at a time, threw them into the rest of the rocks, shoved some aside to get at the dirt below...he had a lovely time. Wasn't too happy when it was time to go inside but he got over that.

Our table was pretty close to the food, which was good because we could kind of scope out the layout and plan our routes...but not good because the long line for the lobsters went right past our table. We were treated to a neverending look at people who have turned the all-you-can-eat buffet into a way of life.

It was sad, actually, to see so many very overweight people - entire families of enormous adults and their rapidly expanding children. There is no appreciation for subtlety of flavor, for artistry, for the simple pleasure of a steamed lobster, fresh from the sea. They aren't eating because food is a pleasure, they are eating because there is food there. And when there is food out there, cooked and ready to go, it is one's moral responsibility to eat it. All of it. Quickly. If you eat slowly, you get full, and then you can't eat. So you eat quickly so you can eat the most you can possibly cram into yourself.

I felt (and Bill did too, he told me later) tense the whole time. I felt I was expected to eat about twenty lobsters to make it worth the price of admission. And the object of the game is not to enjoy your lobster. Oh no. Enjoying the taste of something takes way too long. "Savor" is a forbidden term in the land of engorgement.

You must rip off the claws, tear them apart with your bare hands, suck out the meat, twist the tail off the body, crack the tail open, tear out the meat, eat that (dunked in a barrel of melted butter first) in one gulp (like a trained seal catching a herring) and toss the body into the shell bowl.

To me, that is a mortal sin. I felt like I was going to hell for it. When I eat a lobster, I eat all of the lobster. I have friends who "can't be bothered" with picking through all the little legs and the chambers of the body...I also like the coral (the eggs), and the tamale (the exploded liver). In fact, the tamale is my favorite part. So - to not eat all of the meat in the bodies was agonizing.

But I did it. But never again.

I only ate 2 lobsters. (Bill at 3, Bob ate 4, which is a huge change from his younger days when he could eat 6-7 or more at a sitting.) Ate a few other things, and some dessert, but I couldn't gorge myself.

Bill and I decided that one lobster, shared between the two of us, and picked clean, tastes far better and is a far more pleasurable dining experience than gulping down the lobsters we had today.

Alex had a ball. He is an incredibly friendly little boy. He smiles at people and says "thank you!" to waiters and waitresses, he loves just about every kind of food you put in front of him and is willing to try new things. He had lobster, crab, mussels, watermelon, bread dunked in the garlic-butter broth from the scampi, more watermelon, chocolate pudding, and apple juice.

The waiter was so delighted with Alex that he brought him a little lobster stuffed animal at the end of the meal - a gift. Made my night - it's nice to have a polite and happy child. (I realize things could change at any moment, so I'm savoring it right now.)

Alex finally grew tired of sitting in his high chair. I don't think he was tired of being there - he had an endless parade of people going past his table, and he could wave and smile and say "heh!" (his current pickup line) at the girls and women. I think he wanted to get out and mingle with his public. Instead, I took him outside and let him run around on the lawn again, then Bill and Bob emerged from the vomitorium - I mean Lodge - and we headed back to our vehicles (they were parked far away, which was good, as we needed to walk off some of our thousands of fresh calories).

Alex fell asleep, no great surprise, and went right to bed when we got home.

Bill and I cleaned up the kitchen and prepped dinner for tomorrow.

Time to go - Bob's here and he flies back to Florida tomorrow...

2003-09-11T18:57:00.000-04:00

I'm Home Now...

And Alex is in bed. A little early, but he tends to crash earlier toward the end of the week. He's a busy guy in the Early Toddler room...

And to be honest, I'm glad he's gone to bed.

Does that sound horrible? It does to me. On a day when we hug our loved ones and hold them close for a little longer than usual, when we give thanks that we are all together at this moment in time and are not still mourning an empty place at the dinner table...I should be upstairs holding him and singing him endless repetitions of "Sweet Baby James" which has become his lullaby.

But I don't want to be around anyone right now. My husband is outside watering the gardens. A happier place to be, I'm sure, than around me at the moment.

In addition to all the bits and pieces of news articles I read at work, and the bits and pieces of different blogs, and the coverage of 9/11 remembrance ceremonies and so forth that I listened to on my short lunch break, there still hangs the dark cloud of impending layoffs at work, and that has contributed to my current go-away-leave-me-alone mood.

Layoffs are supposed to be done all in one day (instead of dragged out over a good week or two as has happened in the past), and it looks like tomorrow's the day, because it really started at the end of the day today.

Everyone is nervous, tense, expecting to be called into HR and given the unsurprising news. We are all curled in on ourselves, yet trying to behave like everything's fine, or like we don't care.

But we do.

I do. I don't want to lose my job. No, it's not my ideal place to be, but it could be worse. We have a mortgage to pay, and other normal bills...and my income isn't great but it isn't bad and it's certainly welcome. So.

I also don't want to see other people I work with get laid off. I don't want to see their faces as they gather their framed family photos and coffee mugs and try not to show that their hands are shaking from the reality. Not the shock - on some level everyone expects it. No one really and truly feels safe. But still, we may believe it will happen to us, but then when it does, we find we really weren't prepared with how those words would affect us.

So that's what I'm dreading tomorrow. I can't wait for it, whatever it is, to be over.

And back to today - on a larger scale...

I am disappointed that there was no minute of silence at work. I am disappointed that at the middle school where my husband teaches, there was no minute of silence, or anything else to commemorate this day.

I fear that for those who were not directly affected by it, the horror of September 11th, 2001 will fade and become nothing more than a scene from a movie.

Yes, I know, there were ceremonies everywhere across the country. But not everywhere. Not in the little places. Sure, the media was full of it - thank goodness, so I could have my things to read at work - but I think it should have been in the little places. Places of work. Grocery stores. Retail stores. Schools. Offices. Constructions sites. Everywhere.

Now, I don't know that there weren't smaller places that maybe paused in the day for a moment of remembrance. Maybe there were. I hope so. And I mean places outside of New York, DC, Pennsylvania. I mean the places that didn't know anyone who died that day, the places that watched it on the news and were affected by it when it happened, and watched the ceremony at Ground Zero last year...but who maybe went on with their lives this year and only paused to nod in memory or shake their heads at the tragedy as they glanced at the paper over coffee.

Yes, we all have to go on with our lives. But I think it is unquestionably necessary to stop our lives - which we, thank God, did NOT lose that day - and remember those who did. And not just that "people died." No. We were attacked, and people died. Innocent people died.

I am aware that innocent people die for other reasons and it is tragic. Hurricanes, earthquakes, fires, floods, car accidents, etc. Innocent people die.

But these innocent people of two years ago were attacked, were brought to death, by heartless, fanatical, evil people. And then some more innocent people died trying to save the other innocent people. Who were brought to death, in some fashion or another, by - everyone, with me - heartless, fanatical, evil people.

And that is what the difference is. And that is why we should remember. In the little places.

And speaking of little places - this brought tears to my eyes today, and a lump to my throat, but it also made me happy -

There are chain link fences around the two playground areas where Alex goes to daycare. One playground is for the toddlers, the other is for the older kids.

They have really cool wooden toys - the toddlers have a train (engine and two cars) made of wood - not painted, very simple, but they are in perfect proportion to the small people who climb in and out of them.

The older kids have a huge fort and (my favorite) something like an ark or a whaling ship. I wish I could play on them, to be honest.

Anyway, I was driving past daycare on my lunchbreak to grab a quick sandwich and listen to the radio, and as I passed the building, I looked over to the toddler playground to see if Alex and his little friends were outside. They weren't.

But what I saw was this: an American Flag. It hadn't been there when I dropped Alex off this morning. I would have noticed. It was right there on a section of the fence and as I said before, it made me weepy and happy at the same time.

Later, when I went to pick Alex up after work (the bright spot in my too-emotional day) I parked near the flag and walked over to see what it was made of.

Plastic cups. 12 ounce plastic cups that had been pushed through the spaces in the fence from the other side until they were too wide to go any farther. Brilliant.

A rectangle of blue cups. And stripes of red cups and white cups. No, not the exact number of stripes. And no stars. But they were shiny, and the sun glinted off of them, so there were stars, really. It just took some imagination.

A symbol of remembrance. Sweet, simple, beautiful. In a little place.

I am done writing for today. (Okay, no I'm not.) I'm going to go hug my husband a little tighter and a little longer than he'll be expecting. And later on he and I will creep into Alex's room and gaze for a few moments at our little boy as he sleeps. We will watch his chest rise and fall and we will reach down and touch him - barely, so as not to wake him - his chubby little calf...the blond curls at the nape of his neck...his lips barely parted, deep in sleep. So peaceful. So innocent....

I read this article at work today and I had to stop when I got to this part:

"Readings between the silences and names included a poem written by the mother of a firefighter who was killed. Joan Molinaro began her poem to her son, Carl Molinaro, with these words:

“In the quiet of my heart
“I hold your hand,
“Little boy of mine.”

Little boy of mine.

2003-09-11T05:43:00.000-04:00

First Things First

Thank you, Sheila for the link on Tuesday. And thank you to the people who wrote to me about that little post, and welcome, to anyone who has just begun to visit me.

I haven't written in here, obviously, since that post, and I haven't read much of the other blogs I usually read - and I should. So many people who have so much to say about September 11th, and say it so much better than I do.

I've only been sneaking quick reads while I'm at work. And mainly I go to Sheila's blog because it's the only one I've got bookmarked - at work - and I have (as I think I've said before) the internet page shrunk to half the size of my screen, so I can block what I'm reading (and the fact that no, this isn't work) from passersby who will make mental notes of what I'm doing.

And a part of me wants to be defiant about the whole thing...but I can't. I'm not supposed to be reading blogs at work. I'm on company time. I'm supposed to be working.

So I have to just suggest that you read Sheila and the others I have linked to over there on the right...and then go and read the people that they recommend you read.

Yes, it's a lame post today.

I wanted to write something great. But I don't know what to say.

It's September 11th today. Obviously.

All day yesterday, when I filed things away to work on "tomorrow" the numbers popped up at me again and again as I wrote notes for the files on little pink post-it notes. 9/11. 9/11. 9/11. 9/11.

In some ways, Tuesday was my day of remembering September 11th - because it was a Tuesday. I remember things in terms of days of the week sometimes, rather than the actual date (though I remember that too.) My son was born on a Monday. My first date with my future husband was on a Wednesday. I don't know why it matters, and I guess it really doesn't, but that's just how my mind places things.

So today is a Thursday, and here I am, rambling on and on in my empty way this morning. Wanting desperately to say something worth reading.

But that shouldn't be my aim. I shouldn't be trying just to write something to grab your attention. I should be writing what I want to say.

What do I want to say, in the few minutes that remain before I have to wake my husband and son and get us all on our way out the door and to our separate weekday destinationg...

I remember.

That is what I will say.

I remember.

I can not forget, and will not ever forget, that day. Those images. The emotional overload that day and in the days that follow.

I remember. I remember after feeling overwhelmed with grief and disbelief, and after that, as time went on, I remember feeling fearful and selfish. Yes, selfish. What kind of world am I bringing my child into? (I learned I was pregnant with Alex a month after 9/11.)

I remember not wanting to look into the sky, for fear something or someone would fall from it.

I remember not wanting to see an airplane fly overhead, once they started flying again, because I was afraid it would burst into flame or crash into something.

I remember fear.

And I remember feeling, eventually, angry.

How dare they?

At first in small letters...

how dare they?
How Dare They?
HOW DARE THEY?
HOW DARE THEY?
HOW DARE THEY?

And finally - we cannot allow them to do this again.

I remember that.

And today, I go spinning back to the original feelings of incredible sadness, of not comprehending how, why...of sorrow for all the families with great gaping holes torn in them.

They will not forget.

We must remember.

And that is what I will say this morning.

2003-09-08T20:00:00.000-04:00

Perspective

The stench of layoffs is in the air where I work....

It hasn't permeated everyone yet the way it did two years ago, the last time we had a lot of cutting...but it will...

Two years ago, on a Tuesday, our office was in the middle of what seemed like daily layoffs, one department at a time. Like pulling a band-aid off, one hair follicle at a time, except, of course, worse. And I knew there would be people let go in our department. I didn't know when, though.

And then, oh, around 8:30 that morning, I was working at my computer and all of a sudden the girl who sat in the cubicle next to me was taking personal items from her desk drawers and putting them in a box, and saying she was fine. Our department was under seige...

And a little bit later I found out that a good friend of mine was gone. I never even saw her go back to her desk, grab her belongings and hurry out the door - cheeks probably dark pink and jaw set. I looked around over the tops of the half-walls of our cubicles, a puzzled prairie dog, just staring around, wondering what was coming next.

And I sat down (because I was kind of conspicuous just standing there looking around, staring) and an email came in just about then, from my sister.

It said something like "An airplane just flew into one of the twin towers."

My first thought, not knowing the size of the plane or anything other than that one line, was that the pilot of some small, private plane had lost control or something and accidently crashed into the building.

And, wrapped up as I was in the layoffs that had just happened in my vicinity, I shot back a (rather snotty, in hindsight) email that read "Oh, I didn't know that - they're laying people off here and one of my close friends was just let go" - actually I don't think it was that mild - it was more of an "I'm way too busy and enmeshed in my microcosm to be bothered with anything going on anywhere outside this office."

Much to my utter embarrassment and shame.

And she emailed me more details, bit by bit (she was listening to a radio at her desk at work), and another coworker/friend, Kerrie, was on the phone with her husband, who had the TV on at their house and was telling her the same thing about the plane, and then my mother called, or I called her, and I was listening to the TV in my parents' living room and listening to Kerrie's play by play of what her husband was seeing on their TV and my sister was listening to her radio and emailing me what she was hearing, and everyone in the building was soon glued to phones and radios and each other's eyes as the second plane flew into the second tower, and one by one the towers - this can't be real - came down.

And work fell to the floor and phones grew quiet, except for friends and family members calling in with updates.

And we worried about friends, relatives who either worked or lived anywhere in Manhattan...we sent pointless emails, tried to make phone calls...every means of communication in this technologically advanced era was down. We would have to wait, as, bit by bit, we received good news or bad news or both.

And we worried about people in those buildings and nearby buildings - we deal with corporate accounts, some of which are - were - housed right there, people we speak with daily on the phone, people we have met - oh, so that's what she looks like, I thought she was blond - and become friends with...

And I found out later that one of our salesman lost a brother-in-law on one of those planes...and another salesman lost a couple of old friends from his hockey-playing days...and so on - we weren't there, but we weren't here either. We were just frozen, mouths open, eyes wide, everyone crying at some point.

And then Washington D.C. was hit - and then, amazingly, bizarrely, a fourth plane crashed in Pennsylvania.

It was too much to comprehend. And it just got worse and worse...more details, more awful, awful, unforgettable nightmarish details...

I cannot imagine having the choice to either die in a burning, wounded building or jump out and plummet from the sky and die on the street below. I have seen the pictures. They haunt me most of all, more than the fire, more than the planes crashing, more than the buildings collapsing - though they are all horrible.

Maybe it's that my brain struggles with the choice they were forced to make. Maybe it's that my brain just doesn't want to wrap around the thought that - at that point - the outcome will be the same...maybe it's that my brain doesn't want to conjure up feelings of what that knowledge must feel like. I could never really understand that feeling unless I was right there. But I have an unfortunately vivid imagination...and I sometimes wish I didn't.

But anyway, those pictures in my mind of people falling....they will never go away.

Nor should they.

And back at work...a strange, twilight zone kind of moment, when another woman who works there was escorted, wailing, from the building, and we got the news that her teenage son had been in a car accident.

Everything was just...no word will do it justice, but everything was just wrong.

Henry Blake's helicopter was not supposed to crash into the ocean on that famous M*A*S*H episode...thousands of people wrote in to complain about the episode, they wanted the writers to bring Henry back...write a different ending...the helicopter didn't really go down, Henry didn't die...and the writers, producers, etc. refused. Because people go to war and don't always come back, no matter how funny they are, no matter how lovable, no matter what.

And on a much, much grander scale, that is how September 11th felt, or, rather, that is how I felt, in a way. No, no - make this not be real. Make this not have happened, so things can just go along the same way, and so that the people who lost their jobs that day are the biggest tragedy we have to deal with.

We later found out that that woman's son, the one in the car accident, was okay. And we were insanely relieved. Someone was okay.

I got home from work that afternoon, walked into the tiny house Bill and I were living in at the time, and burst into sobs. My whole body cried and cried and cried. And he held me and I think he cried too, but I don't remember. I couldn't see.

We watched some of the news for a little while, just staring...it was still just too much to take in.

We went out to eat. More just to get out of the house and be around other people than because we were actually hungry. A TV was on, of course, in the bar of the restaurant we went to, and the news, of course, was on. What else was there to watch? Nothing else mattered any more.

My friend, who had been laid off, was bitter about it. And I just couldn't listen to it after a while. It just seemed so trivial. Now, granted, I have never been the victim of a layoff...so I don't know how I'd feel.

But I think I would rather pack my personal items in a box and walk out the door than have no choice but to jump out a window into the bright September sky.

2003-09-06T16:07:00.000-04:00

I'm an Idiot

Our printer needed a new black ink cartridge. We have a Hewlett Packard printer. I went to Staples and was told that they made a cartridge that was HP compatable and had twice as much ink. So I bought it.

I'm an idiot.

I brought it home, installed it, and kept getting error messages about the cartridge - that it wasn't there, that there was a problem with it, that I'm an idiot. I took the cartridge in and peeled off the little label that said it was made by Staples, thinking maybe that wasn't supposed to be there.

Still got error messages.

So then (here comes the idiot part) I peeled off what I thought (until it was too late) was a protective covering for where the ink comes out (please email me if I'm getting too technical)...and realized - after I re-installed it, closed the top, and the printer went completely dead - that I'd peeled off the little copper thing that somehow communicates with the printer itself.

So, in one fell swoop, I had rendered the cartridge useless and unreturnable, lost the chance to either return the cartridge or at least blame Staples for the printer not working, and ruined the printer.

And I also couldn't get the bad cartridge back out - it had all locked in place off to the side. I tried tugging gently on it, but it wouldn't budge, and I thought I'd done enough damage.

My husband made the mistake of asking me how it was going.

Yes, he's still alive. Wisely, he went downstairs and turned on the Yankees-Red Sox game (yahoo! - Red Sox won, 9-3).

I decided after a bit to just let it go for the evening. I would probably end up throwing it out the window if I continued.

This morning I tried again. Alex was taking a nap, Bill was at the barber getting a haircut and planning part of dinner tonight (I've already planned the other part), so all was quiet.

I was almost, almost, almost going to just bite the bullet and call Hewlett Packard, confess my utter idiocy, and beg for help, when a tiny little voice whispered in my ear: "Unplug the printer and plug it back in, just for kicks, before you call."

And it worked. The little display (with the error message) came back on, and as soon as the cartridge slid where I could reach it, out came the evil cartridge along with a loud sigh of relief from me.

I was elated. Really. Which is pathetic, I know. But I had been so set on using that printer this weekend (which I will do, after this post), and then I screwed it all up (idiot idiot idiot) and couldn't even blame a defective product because I went and peeled off something IMPORTANT...and then - miracle of miracles - it was all okay.

I was not only elated, I was euphoric. (Today's letter, boys and girls, is the letter "E!")

And that's my story of the printer.

Which now, by the way, has the correct ink cartridge in it.

P.S. I just told Bill the title of this post and the subject matter, and he said "Yeah, you were pretty dumb. I didn't tell you because you seemed pretty upset last night."

Thank you, dear.

2003-09-04T07:46:00.000-04:00

Good Morning,

I'm home, with Alex, waiting for the "floor guy" to come and measure the floor in the basement and provide me with an estimate to have the ugly area padded and carpeted again. He's due at 8:00, and it should only take about 10 minutes.

The "ceiling guy" came yesterday. Actually, he's more the "everything guy" - his company will do the ceiling, walls, and the carpeting. But it was too late to cancel the appointment this morning when I learned that. Oh well - nice to have a more leisurely morning for a change.

Alex is encouraging me to dance along with him. He pushes buttons on various toys to trigger the music or songs they produce, and then he hurries over to the doorway to look at me, with a huge open-mouthed smile, while he bounces up and down, sometimes stomping one foot in time to his own secret rhythm...and I smile and bounce up and down in my chair right along with him, until the music ends and he has to go back to the living room to hit another button.

He can almost say "ball." He says "dall," which is close. And he's consistent with it.

He's also consistent with "da-da." He consistently uses it for "Daddy," "kitty cat," "flower," and just about anything else he doesn't yet have in his vocabulary.

He loves the flowers. We pull into the driveway after work and daycare, and before I can get out of the car he is saying "Da da! Da da!" in a frantic kind of way. No, Daddy's not home yet - he's looking at the flowers in our window boxes. So I take him out of his car seat and he reaches for them - not to grab, but to touch, with uncharacteristic gentleness and with reverence and wonder in his repeated "Da da...da da...da da!"

Right now, though, he is examining the gate that keeps him out of the computer room and trying to find a flaw in its construction that would, in time, enable him to knock it down and explore all the forbidden things - computer- and music-related - that we keep in this room.

What else can I go on about...

Well, unpleasantness at work...September is here and there is a stench of impending layoffs in the air. I even dreamed about it. Not me losing my job, but, worse, other people in my department. And as part of middle management, I'm one of the forces of evil who will be (probably) used to march some poor person to the HR department and sit there while they get the bad news. That's what I was dreaming about. Fun, huh?

And now Alex is trying to find a way to climb over the gate, so I really should go and find something less adventurous for him to do right now.

Oh, and it's POURING rain right now - has been since some time in the night...I love this weather, this time of year. I am energized by it. Wish I could stay home today - I'd get so much accomplished!

Have a good day, whatever your weather!

2003-08-31T14:47:00.000-04:00

Okay, I'm back again...

Yes, I'm making a beef stock. From scratch. Well, really from cheap cuts of meat and beef bones browned in a pan, then onions, carrots and celery, browned in the same pan, all of the meat and vegetables dumped into a big sauce pot...then a slug of red wine tossed into the pan, heat on, stirring and scraping to deglaze the pan...then I poured that mixture in with the other stuff, added water up to about 2 inches from the top of the pot, and that's on the stove now, eventually to come to a boil, then I'll turn it down and simmer, simmer, simmer, reduce, reduce, reduce, until I have a nice stock.

I also made a tomato sauce that is incredibly yummy with tomatoes fresh from our garden. You can find the recipe here. I didn't measure anything, really, but I used the ingredients and the principle - it's great. As we get more tomatoes, I'll make a few more batches and freeze them.

Um...oh, and Bill made a green curry paste with hot little chili peppers from the garden. We've got that frozen in an ice cube tray to add to future recipes.

I've also got shrimp shells and fish trimmings and bones frozen, so I'll make a bunch of stock with that soon, and a chicken stock too. First, though, I need to clean out the freezer.

Speaking of freezers, another temporary casualty of the flood was the fridge we have in the bar downstairs. The flood killed the motor and one afternoon Bill discovered that everything in the freezer had thawed. I made linguine with white clam sauce with the two packages of quahogs we'd had in there. (They were still very cold - just not frozen solid any more, so we figured they were safe to eat. And here we are - alive and relatively healthy, several days later.) Fortunately the problem was easily fixed, and it took the appliance guy only about 20 minutes on Thursday.

That's is for the moment. I've got a few recipes to post, but Alex has put up with my neglect long enough, and if I don't stop typing now, he'll go back to tossing cookbooks down the basement stairs...

2003-08-31T14:30:00.000-04:00

You're Right, Beth, It's Been Over a Week...

And I haven't written any updates on the state of our basement since I wrote about the flood. So, especially for Beth, who was asking, here goes...

We finally are rid of the industrial fans and dehumidifiers, which means that we can run the microwave for longer than a minute without blowing a fuse. It also means that the basement is a whole lot cooler, which makes the ugliness a bit easier to take.

The carpet is gone, and left behind, except in the kitchen/bar area, where the textured salmon-hued tiles seem to have survived, are squares of a hideous green and black cheap-o tile, some of them missing corners, most of them textured with some of the padding that had been under the carpet. Walking on this barefoot - as I tend to do - is a disgusting experience, with a residual sticky/powdery residue from the anti-bacterial stuff the clean-up crew sprayed on it, and the little fuzzy blobs of padding which for some reason stick better to my feet than to the floor now. The lower stairs have globs of this padding, which, velcro-like, sticks to the carpeting on the stairs and leaves my feet within a few steps.

Everything is either crammed over into the kitchen/bar area - all my husband's beer-brewing and fishing supplies - which had been stacked neatly in a close - or piled on top of the couch and the recliner. We ate downstairs (so I could watch Food TV - I'd been having withdrawal symptoms) a few nights ago for the first time...sitting in two straight-backed chairs from the basement kitchen table...with our dinner plates and glasses and whatever else we had crammed onto a little coffee table, and an overturned 5 gallon bucket for the shells (that's right, we had steamers). It was an uncomfortable experience which was tolerable only because the steamers were freshly dug and plentiful and the beer was cold.

We have a "ceiling guy" coming on Tuesday...we'll have to have the ceiling fixed first, then the paneling replaced or at least painted over...and then finally the floor. The flood itself was taken care of in a day - the "rebuilding" will drag on. And I'm not looking forward to it. But - oh well. It's only the basement. Could have been a hell of a lot worse by far.

Today has been a lovely day so far - and I'm not even finished with it yet! We went grocery shopping early - which is one of my favorite things to do. I have a friend, Pete, who is just as bad, if not worse. We've discussed what happens, and it's like we go into some kind of shopping trance and emerge from the store, into the fresh air and out of the artificial light, only to wake up with tons of stuff (food, mostly) that we don't remember buying and a 3 foot long receipt stuffed into one of the bags, its tail blowing in the wind behind us....His wife believes he has some sort of mental illness. Fortunately for me, Bill has the same mental illness. We figure if he, Pete, and I go shopping, Maura, Pete's wife, will have to come along to make sure that we don't have to take out second mortgages on our respective homes.

Anyway - excuse me for a minute - I have a vat of beef stock on the stove and I have to check on it. I'll be back in a bit...

2003-08-26T06:05:00.000-04:00

Water, water everywhere...

Last Tuesday I came home at lunchtime - unplanned - and heard what sounded like a waterfall inside my house as I came up the back steps and into the kitchen.

To make a long, potentially dramatic story short (I have to get ready for work soon), little rubber gaskets on the pipes in our main floor bathroom, under the sink, blew out, and water was spraying and pouring from them all over the bathroom floor and, worse, through the floorboards under the sink and into the space between the main floor and the (once) finished ceiling of our (formerly) finished basement.

There were 4-5 inches of water down there...the carpeting was rising up in spots, the padding beneath it completely soaked.

I - very stupidly - walked around down there to investigate. Water poured through light fixtures and through the unfinished area right above the washer and dryer.

I got a plumber out to fix the leak (they were the ones who figured out what had happened - I just shut the water off in the bathroom so it wouldn't spray out any more), and we got a company out to pump the water out of the basement. Four men, three trucks, and about 4 hours of sucking up the water.

These guys were great - they put all our furniture up on little styrofoam blocks when they were done...they pulled up the carpet and removed all the soaked padding underneath...they had to poke a bunch of holes in the swirl-textured finished ceiling so that the water could finish pouring out...

So last week was kind of busy.

It was also pretty hot and humid, and I just didn't feel like typing.

But while I had a few minutes this morning, I figured I'd at least post an update.

We have industrial fans and dehumidifiers going in the basement now - they create heat, which is unpleasant, but necessary.

Gotta go now...I'll try to get back in the swing of writing soon.

2003-08-17T17:48:00.000-04:00

Paragon

On Friday we refinanced our mortgage and that night, to celebrate that and our 3rd anniversary the month before, Bill and I went OUT TO EAT. Without Alex. He stayed home with Emily, who is Bill's nephew Joe's girlfriend. She's great with Alex, and I feel completely comfortable when he's with her. Joe came over too at some point, and assembled the big red wagon they had given Alex for his birthday, which was in June. We had left the whole thing in the box and were using the box to block Alex from the stairs leading up to the second floor. Now we just have the box there, which is easily moved, but most of the time Alex doesn't seem inclined to move it out of the way, though he knows the possibility exists. He's biding his time, I just know it.

Anyway, it's been quite some time since Bill and I went on a "date" like that. I was ridiculously excited all day. Okay, maybe "ridiculously" isn't the right word. Maybe "desperately" is better.

So I got home from work, handed Alex off to Bill so I could change into something more appropriate for a date, and while I was upstairs Emily arrived and hung out with Alex and Bill in the back yard, examining the enormous beans growing there.

I was ready pretty quickly - I don't have the patience to do much primping, plus the temperature was in the 90's and I'd already started to work up a sweat just applying eyeliner - and off we went.

Paragon is a relatively new restaurant that opened up on the Warwick/East Greenwich line. I've been there once, for lunch, but it seems more like a dinner place to me. We parked the truck about 8 miles from the restaurant (they have a big lot in the back) and race-walked back to the front door. We were both hungry. Especially me.

We were a bit early - ahead of the dinner rush - so we were seated right away. Linen tablecloths and napkins...flatware with some weight to it...brick and dark wood...warm, golden-glow lighting...cozy....

Our table was right near a little wood and glass wine cellar. Not close enough for me to read any labels, but it was nice to look at - this little closety kind of room just right there in the dining room.

Our waitor was intelligent, friendly but not overly so, efficient, and only there when we needed him.

I can't stand overly friendly waiters and waitresses. I don't mean that I want them to be cold and snotty - I just don't want them practically pulling up a chair and joining us for the meal. We had one waiter once (at another restaurant) who came over to the table after we'd been seated, crouched down so his head was level with the dinner plates, and addressed us as "Friends" throughout the entire meal. I wanted to crack him over the head with his pepper mill. He smiled too familiarly, he was ingratiating, he applauded our meal selections way too enthusiastically, and he also said "we" all the time, which really brings out the sarcasm in me. ("You're a pain in the ass, but we're managing to keep our food down anyway. Thanks for asking.")

The menu (at Paragon - we're going back to the happy place now) was not large. There were about 3-4 cold appetizers listed, 10-12 hot appetizers, 5 salads, half a dozen raw bar offerings, 4-5 kinds of pizza, about a half dozen pasta dishes, a dozen or more entrees, and 5 desserts. Bill was pleased with the selections of beer on tap, too.

And here's what we had:

First, a dozen oysters (we split them, though we could each have consumed the whole order alone easily), and one of their hot appetizers, which they called "Shrimp Athens 2004" - of course in reference to the upcoming Olympics. The dish consisted of some fresh shrimp, a fresh tomato sauce, capers, and feta cheese baked in a clay pot and finished off with some triangles of foccaccia on top. It was fabulous - the shrimp had the "pop" when we bit into it that only comes if the shrimp is either incredibly fresh or has been flash frozen either on or right off the boat. Lately we've only been buying the flash frozen shrimp because the stuff we get at the fish stores hasn't had that pop. Plus it's nice to have a whole bag of shrimp in the freezer - they thaw quickly and they cook quickly. And - as I said - they pop.

Oysters were nice, too, though the person who shucked them didn't slice through the muscle on the bottom shell, so we had to do that ourselves. Not a huge deal, but still, it's nice to be able to just slurp them right down....

Bill had a pint of Sierra Nevada and I had a glass of Sauvignon Blanc that had a lot of grapefruit to it, but not objectionably so.

We had a nice break in between appetizers and entrees - no rush - we just sat there sipping our drinks and looking around and relaxing.

Bill had rack of lamb (medium rare) with a baked sweet potato and steamed broccoli. I had a taste (of course) - the lamb was cooked perfectly, and the rich, earthy flavors of roasted lamb and garlic mingling together almost made me cry. Lamb is a special occasion food in my family - roast leg of lamb with plenty of garlic...my mom's birthday dinner sometimes...and Easter. That's about it. I can just about smell it in my mind, and there are few things as intoxicating and comforting and regal - all at the same time - to me.

And I had breast of duck with a port wine reduction with cranberries and a mound of watercress, and rice pilaf. YUM. What a truly delicious meal that was. I love to be amazed by what people do with food, and the syrupy sweetness of the port reduction combined with the tangy tart cranberries perfectly balanced the richness of the duck. If I were the melodramatic sort, that meal would have been a fine occasion for a good heartfelt swoon.

And I had a glass of Zinfandel, red and bold and able to hold its own with the duck, and Bill had Stella Artois - a just about perfect lager that goes skunky quickly, but this was freshly tapped and delicious.

For dessert Bill (who rarely orders dessert) had cheesecake (NY style) with a sauce of strawberries and blackberries flambeed with Grand Marnier. I had Tiramisu - I had seen another waiter carrying it past us earlier and it looked very nicely done - which was served on a plate drizzled with chocolate sauce and a banana sauce - interesting flavor addition, but it worked - and garnished with some fresh raspberries and a bit of whipped cream. I couldn't finish it. And I wanted to - it was one of the best I've ever had. But I was stuffed. Finally.

We didn't want to leave. Both of us wanted to just stay there and keep eating - the flavors were so good. The service was great - the waiter introduced himself at the end of the meal, and so did we.

I just can't explain how delightful the evening was - or, rather, I can't do it justice. Maybe it was because we haven't been out like that in a long time...maybe it was because the meal was perfect...the excellent service...the ambience - no, of course it was all of that. And the company.

2003-08-13T18:23:00.000-04:00

Clam Worms and a Little Hammer

This evening, exactly 6 years ago, was the occasion of my first official date with Bill.

My brother-in-law, Jacques, had successfully played Cupid over the several months preceding this date, which is a story (a long one) for another day, but I will try to remember to write about it because it's pretty funny. At least to me.

Anyway, we decided to go out for sushi, which we both love. In fact, Jacques was probably the reason for the sushi date, too. A couple of weeks before this date, several of us were out at a local bar - me, my cousin Steve, my cousin Phil, his girlfriend Roseleen, Jacques, and Bill. Bill and I were having a lovely time discussing various raw seafoods we'd dined on, and grossing Jacques out at the same time. (Bill had me beat - baby octopus!)

Anyway, the date was planned.

And I was such a giddy school-girl about it all.... What to wear? What to wear???

Wednesday night arrived...and I was all ready to go...I was wearing a black short-sleeved top, some funky necklace and earrings that matched or at least went well with it...and a maroon crepe skirt that was comfortable and looked good. (Oh, yeah, does this make me look fat???)

Anyway, I'm all ready to go...waiting...peeking out the bedroom window of my third floor apartment. Then I saw his car pull in...I tiptoed (really - but why?? Not like he could have heard me...) over to the window and peeked out quickly.

He was wearing jeans! (And a grey plaid shirt, and boat shoes.) Jeans!

So I ripped the skirt off and flung it into the bottom of my closet and dragged on a pair of jeans, buzzed him in, and was buckling the belt when he knocked on the door. Phew!

(And now, as I write about this, I'm thinking - why did I care if I had on a skirt instead of jeans? Somehow one of my many insecurities had something to do with it...don't want to be overdressed...but I'm the girl - that's my privilege! Oh well...)

In the car, he asked if I was sure that I wanted to have sushi. No coward, I! Of course, I said. So that's what we did.

We ordered the sushi and sashimi combination plate for two. And water. Bill told me that he liked to drink water with sushi.

What I didn't know was that Bill had been feeling horribly ill for days. He was in no mood for sushi that night and when he asked if I was sure that's what I wanted, he was hoping I'd pick something else. No dice.

He had water because he couldn't stomach anything else.

We had our miso soup. Our little seaweed salads with sesame seed and rice vinegar dressing.

And then the waitress brought our giant platter of sushi and sashimi. It was beautiful. I was tense, he was sick, we only ate half of the platter. (And in subsequent dates, when we were relaxed and healthy, we have certainly been able to polish off an entire combination platter, so it's not like we have tiny appetites...)

We split the leftovers between us, and while we were waiting for the bill, we decided to make up a story to tell Jacques. A gross-out story. Because we knew we'd be quizzed individually.

So we told Jacques that the restaurant was having a local special - live clam worms on a platter, served with little hammers so you could whack the things on the head and at least stun them before eating them.

Hee hee hee. If I remember right, he believed it for a little while.

Clam worms, by the way, if you've never encountered them, are ugly, creepy long worms that you find in beach sand when you're digging clams. They have little mouths and they bite. They're also used for bait, and it helps to cut the heads off before you try to put them on the hook, otherwise you run the risk of being bitten by the wriggling worm or stabbed by the hook as you try to rush the job.

Anyway, that was 6 years ago tonight.

I have, of course, omitted a lot of the rest of the story. That part's mine. ;)

2003-08-09T20:18:00.000-04:00

Random Notes

Alex could run for mayor. And win, if he spoke a bit more clearly. We went shopping today, twice, to several different stores each time, and everywhere we went he was friendly and smiling and babbled interestedly at the cashiers and the people behind us in line. He did everything but shake hands. Well, he didn't kiss any babies, either, but he was pretty much the youngest person we encountered today anyway.

Alex says "thank you." It sounds like "da-doo," emphasis on the "doo" part. He hands me a frying pan, I say "thank you." He extends his hand so I'll give it back, and he says "da-doo" with sincerity. I say "you're welcome." I think he's been attempting that occasionally, but he still hasn't sorted it all out yet.

At daycare the other day, when I was picking him up, the woman in charge of his room told me how expressive he is. (yes, that's MY son.) She went on to mimic several of the things Alex says, and included his "MMMmmm" at the end.

Then she said she was trying to teach him to rub his tummy when he says that.

Grrr. I hope he refuses.

It's not that tummy-rubbing isn't cute. HOWEVER, he has been saying "MMMmmm" successfully for quite some time now, and he doesn't need to rub his tummy. Everyone understands what he's talking about. It's cute all by itself. No tummy-rubbing needed.

She told me she's taught a bunch of the other children who have been in her class to say "mmmmm" and rub their tummies at the same time.

She also said she tries to teach them to do "nice eyes" or "pretty eyes"...I can't remember the exact thing she calls it. Selective amnesia, I think. And when she told me this, she cocked her head at a 45 degree angle to her left, sort of rolled her eyes back in her head, and fluttered her eyelids. Apparently that's nice, or pretty, in her world.

If she teaches that to Alex I will have to remove him from that daycare facility.

It's not something I want my son to do. In fact, it's not something I'd want my daughter to do, either, if I had one. It looks stupid, actually. And if my children ever look stupid, at least let it be original. Not the same stupid fluttery eyes the other children are doing.

So now I am trying to figure out what Alex needs to learn so he can get OUT of that room and move up to "middle toddlers" as soon as possible. She is a scary woman. And loud. All the fun artwork they do, and water play days, and singing songs, and playing on the slides and the wooden train outside - all of these things are fine. Just don't teach my kid to be a carbon copy of your other kids. Especially if they're doing stupid fluttery eyes.

What else...

Well, it's still muggy and hot and sticky here, in case anyone was wondering. We have not had a break. Thank goodness it's rained just about every night this week - at least the gardens are happy and thriving. I pulled 3 full-sized cucumbers off the vines this evening - hadn't even realized they were growing back there...pretty cool.

And the soybeans look almost ready to pick...I'll wait til Monday so Bill can have the thrill of it too...and our little hot peppers are looking good...and the japanese eggplant...and there are TONS of tomatoes out there...nothing ready to pick yet, but when they are ready we'll be inundated.

Made a quick pesto for lunch today, on pasta wheels. Alex liked it. "MMMmmm!"

Had fish for dinner, and spinach. He liked that too. Gave him a peach for dessert. He's asleep now. I've got the dishwasher running...have to empty the dehumidifier tonight...was going to do laundry but I think I'll leave that for tomorrow.

Gee, this is a thrill and a half, isn't it?

Bill flies home tomorrow. He'll arrive some time tomorrow evening. Which reminds me, I need to dig out the copy I made of his return ticket, so I know which flights he's on. He's had fun out there. But he says he's looking forward to coming home, so that's nice. I'm looking forward to him coming home too.

I had all these plans to accomplish all sorts of little projects while he was away. Haven't really done anything other than the necessary daily and weekly stuff that always needs doing.

And I'm hungry, and I have a fridge full of food...and I don't feel like eating any of it. I feel kind of adrift. I have books to read...things I could do...but the mugginess is dragging me into sluggishness...and I think I just want my husband back home.

That's all it is. Silly. I lived for years by myself, and was fine. And this week, while I'm not really by myself, since there's Alex, I'm still the only adult here. And I'm out of practice with that. Yes, it's been kind of fun and self-indulgent to dive into a couple of good books and read as late as I want to...but. Something's definitely missing.

I have a tremendous amount of respect for single parents...and spouses of the military...I've only been on my own with Alex for a week, and it's been a huge adjustment. I managed to get into a workable routine by Wednesday...but it's a lot of work when it's just you and the baby.

And that's it for the moment. There is not even a hint of a breeze coming into this room, I'm hot, sticky, drippy, and probably smelly. And still hungry. So I think I'll go and do something about at least one of those discomforts.

Talk to you later.

2003-08-05T20:54:00.000-04:00

Hi

It's only Tuesday. It feels like it should be further along in the week than that.

In addition to it being horribly muggy here, and Bill being in Seattle, Alex is getting some more teeth in...and as a result, he has not been his happiest, nor has he slept straight through any of the past several nights.

Bill went salmon fishing Sunday morning and I received an emailed picture of him grinning delightedly and holding the 10-lb salmon he reeled in.

I don't know which was more blinding - the silvery fish or Bill's teeth.

I had the picture set as wallpaper on my computer at work...for about half of Monday...and then I had to switch back to the picture of Alex that preceded it. I just couldn't take the big happy grin any longer.

Fine. I'm small and petty and shallow. But that doesn't negate the fact that he is out there in Seattle, for over a week, playing. He is having endless fun, eating Thai one day, fresh salmon the next, and all-you-can-eat sushi tonight. And I'm not.

And it's in the low to mid 70s in Seattle...and no humidity...and no mosquitos...and he's probably sleeping straight through the night...and I'm not....

But now the guilt is nudging me...so, yes, of course, I love my child and I am not UNhappy that I'm with him or that he's with me. Of course not. I just would like to sleep for several hours in a row at some point this week. That's all I'm asking.

HOWEVER...

There have been bright spots.

Alex and I were outside after dinner last night...touring the grounds...checking out the vegetable garden...and he gave a long, serious lecture about a tomato leaf. I have no idea what he was telling me, but it was lengthy and important to him. Something about that leaf...he touched it lightly a couple of times with one small finger...and spoke softly but urgently...and he made it very, very clear that I must listen.

I was going to write his little lecture phonetically, but it just looked like babbling when I typed it, and of course it was way more intelligent-sounding the way he said it. You'll just have to trust me.

He is very generous. He hands me things now. All the time. Pots and pans...his sippy cup...a cheerio from his mouth...dirt...a bottle of baby lotion...(clean) underwear from a laundry basket....and when I say "thank you!" and then hand something to him, he takes it and says "da-doo!" right back. (Hee hee hee!!)

On the flip side of that - he is learning "no" in a big way. In a couple of big ways....

He shakes his little blond head vehemently from side to side if he doesn't want something.

"No, do not want that bottle."

"No, do not want that piece of potato. (I know I liked potatoes yesterday, but I'm starting my terrible twos early, and so today, at just under 14 months, I don't want that piece of potato. But give it to me for lunch tomorrow - I'll probably eat it at daycare.)"

"No, do not want a piece of banana. In fact, I SO do not want any banana, even though other times I LOVE bananas, that I will CRY LOUDLY to reiterate the fact that right now, I DO NOT WANT a piece of banana."

And the other learning-of-NO that is happening is not so much "learning" as it is "thumbing one's cute little button nose at" what the word "NO" means (when Mommy says it).

And Mommy really doesn't overuse the word, either. Just for the serious stuff. NO means don't yank on the oven door. NO means don't stand on the chair (oh, yeah, he can climb up onto chairs and couches now, have I mentioned that yet?) and grin like that and fling yourself backwards because SOME DAY you're going to be facing the wrong way when you fling.

And then if I take him off the chair to emphasize that all fun will cease if he ignores "NO" - he wails. (Naturally. All fun has just ceased.) Passersby stare in horror at my house as the cries of anguish pour from every door and window. This is a house oftorture! I'm Big Mean Mommy and I don't let my kid have ANY fun! EVER!

And then a minutes later he climbs back onto the chair (triumphantly, I swear) all smiles and joy again. After all, it's quite an achievement to scale Everest...even if your mommy won't let you stand at the summit. Yet.

Okay. I'm done venting. And it's not even venting, really. Because with the exception of the waking-up-a-lot-in-the-middle-of-the-night part, it's not a terrible thing to be hanging out with Alex like this. He is truly fascinating. And beautiful. And he's learning to kiss me on the cheek without biting, which is a refreshing change. I'm savoring this time of his little life when he will willingly kiss me. I know it won't last, though it will return again, eventually. And there is nothing that lifts me up more after a day at a job that I don't love than going into the Early Toddler room and seeing Alex see me and smile and run across the room laughing. To me.

I do miss Bill.

But he missed the tomato leaf lecture.

2003-08-03T09:43:00.000-04:00

If You Can't Stand the Heat...

...turn the oven on and bake things.

It's muggy and hot and not at all encouraging of movement today. The best thing would be to lie still somewhere, with a fan moving the molecules of hot water and air back and forth above me, while I read the paper and drink something with a lot of ice in it.

Instead, I'm going to turn the oven on and, yes, bake things. Why not? It needs to be done - I want to prep things so I have food already made this week...I've already been to the grocery store with Alex, and so if anything's going to get done, I have to do it today.

So. I will just pretend, as I sweat gallons onto the kitchen floor, that today is one long workout (which I could use) and feel good about how hot and smelly I become....

And by the end of the day, I will have a fridge full of meals for Alex and myself, and everything will be done - dishes, kitchen floor, ironing for the week (I am ambitious today) - and I can relax, after Alex is in bed, and FINALLY read the paper.

If I read it while he's taking a nap, there is a definite danger that I won't get up and get moving again, so the goal today is not to sit (except as I type this) until everything that needs to get done IS done.

So - that's it for now. Must go and start cooking now. I need iced coffee, too. LOTS of it.

Oh - and Bill called me last night - he and his brother brewed up a batch of beer yesterday, and he's going salmon fishing today.

And - one more little thing and then I'm back on my feet and in motion - while I was at the grocery store, waiting for a pound of sea scallops, a tall gentleman in his 70's (I'm guessing) tapped me on the arm and told me that if I ever decided to sell Alex, I should call him. He smiled at Alex and patted him on the head, and Alex smiled back. I saw this same gentleman later in another aisle, with his wife. He pointed out Alex, and she laughed and said they'd had two just like him - 55 years ago. It was sweet. They looked happy. Like my parents, they are a peek at where I hope to be years from now...grocery shopping with Bill, smiling at little babies, remembering how it was only yesterday that Alex was that small.

Gotta go - this house just isn't hot and sticky ENOUGH!!!

2003-08-02T11:59:00.000-04:00

"So Kiss Me and Smile For Me...

...tell me that you'll wait for me, hold me like you'll never let me go..."

Bill flew to Seattle yesterday to visit his brother, Ray, for about a week. I dropped him off at the airport yesterday on my way to bring Alex to daycare and myself to work. It felt almost like an adult paper route - slow down, toss a bit of cargo out the window, and move on.

Only sad.

I am fine - I lived alone for a number of years before Bill was brought into my life, so it's not that. And I'm not alone anyway - I have Alex here, and the cat, and all the fish....(yes, I promise I will feed them daily!)

He arrived safely. His flight into Chicago was delayed, but he caught the connection and arrived in Seattle only about 30 minutes later than scheduled. And he called me as he was boarding that flight, just to say hi, I'm here, I'm on my way.

I spent a good part of my time at work tracking his flights.

I am not an enthusiastic flier. I have flown a number of times. First time was alone, too.

But after September 11th, I have not come remotely close to wanting to get on a plane going anywhere. And, by extension, I haven't been nuts about anyone I care about getting on a plane either.

But he needed to go.

He needed to go see that part of his family. He needed to visit Seattle again. He needed to get out of here for a bit.

He needed all of this about a month and a half ago, when the flight was booked.

He doesn't need it as much now, but he will still have a great time, and it will be good for him.

Last night, for instance, he and his brother were headed out to dinner at a Thai restaurant and then to a Mariners game.

I don't know what else is planned, other than a salmon fishing trip that Ray has arranged.

I've been salmon fishing out there. Once. About 5 1/2 years ago or so. My first year with Bill - and I went with him to Seattle for Christmas. I must have liked him an AWFUL lot, even that early on, to give up my traditional Christmas with my own family. I'm a homebody, I'm immersed in tradition and family - and so this was a huge thing for me.

Anyway, while we were out there, we went salmon fishing. A little charter trip. The captain, first mate, about 4 other men, Bill, and me. The girl.

It was a drizzley, damp, gray trip, and we caught very little. I caught a small flounder. Someone else caught something. That was it. About 8 hours out on this boat, damp, swaying, rocking, uneventful, and cold.

I made it a point not to put a hat on until one of the men did.

I made it a point not to eat my peanutbutter sandwich until one of the men ate lunch.

I made it a point not to go into the cabin and get out of the drizzle and wind and sit down until one of the one of the men did.

I was hard core.

I am woman. ROAR!

And I was also happy to get back to the dock and eventually get into warm, dry clothes and have something hot to eat and drink.

It would have been nice, though, if someone had caught something worth catching.

Oh well.

Anyway, so Bill is out there on the west coast, and here I am. And it's hot and muggy, and despite my great determination (yesterday) to get a lot DONE while Bill is away, I spent this morning reading and playing with Alex (he's taking a nap now), and haven't done a whole heck of a lot else.

After Alex wakes up we're going down to my parents' house for an early dinner of hamburgers and hotdogs with them and my sister and her kids. My brother-in-law works on the weekends, so it's just mom, dad, the girls, and their kids.

Tonight...I don't know. Should do laundry. Should wash the floors. Should vacuum. Should clear off the pile of bills and junk mail on the diningroom table. should should should.

But I'll see. Might also just lie in bed and read again. I haven't done that in ages....Just disappear into a novel....then that kind of groggy, coming up for air feeling after I close the book. Where am I? Oh. Yeah. Okay.

Anyway, that's where I am at the moment. I expect I'll write more than usual this week. Unless I get really motivated and overhaul the house....

We'll see.

2003-07-27T16:17:00.000-04:00

The Sound of Silence

Bill just took Alex down the street to Gorton's Pond. Alex has never been in the water there before. Before they left, Bill had changed Alex into his little swimming pants, which are supposed to be a leak-proof, waterproof substitute for diapers.... Anyway, Bill asked me to hold Alex so he could bring the stroller outside. I picked up Alex - "Why is he wet?" So they're not exactly leakproof....

Anyway, they just left a couple of minutes ago.

I have been trying to write, uninterrupted, this afternoon, but while I have successfully typed in some recipes from the clambake, I have also been successfully interrupted. Oh well.

It is hard to carve out time for me. And rather than blame anyone else for that, I admit (reluctantly, and after a lot of thought) that this is my own fault.

This post by Aimless and this post, which Aimless links to, by Venomous Kate are both great pieces in the vein of trying to carve out time while juggling "it all." Without feeling like I have to justify it. And without feeling guilty for it.

But anyway...

In my backwards way, I found Venomous Kate's through Aimless, and I read Kate's first. I read that one last night and it stayed with me. Exactly!!! I thought. I chewed on it for quite a while last night. I was going to excerpt sections of it, but I changed my mind - it's best read straight through. I want to say that she sounds a lot more tired, a lot more angry, a lot more pissed off than I feel at any given moment. I want to. But. There are times....

A few minutes ago I finally read Aimless's piece in response to it, and she's also given me a lot to think about. Go read that one too.

I know - this is terribly unenlightening on my part. You'll just have to link to them. Go.

2003-07-27T16:10:00.000-04:00

Baby Buffalo Ball Sandwiches

We served these at the clambake too...

You will need:

My recipe for Buffalo Balls (see the second entry under Tuesday, April 1st...I couldn't link to it any better than this...)
Little sandwich rolls of some kind
Crumbled blue cheese

When you make the balls, form them smaller than you ordinarily would - about the size of a malted milk ball. Smaller than a walnut (in the shell) but larger than a hazelnut. Cute and little.

Brown these and then put them all in a big pot with the buffalo sauce and simmer slowly until the meatballs are cooked through.

To assemble - place 2-3 meatballs in a roll and top with some of the blue cheese crumbles.

2003-07-27T15:25:00.000-04:00

Basil and Nasturtium Pesto Crostini with Fresh Mozzarella and Candied Cherry Tomatoes

Or maybe they're Bruschetta. They're sort of both and neither. Feel free to correct me.

Anyway. Nasturtiums are edible flowering plants that seem pretty easy to grow, based on our experience. I knew the flowers were edible (my mother used to grow them) but I didn't know the leaves were edible until this year.

Candied Cherry Tomatoes

A pint or so of cherry tomatoes
Olive oil
Kosher salt
Ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 350.

Slice the cherry tomatoes in half, pole to pole (stem end to the opposite end), and arrange, face-up, in a baking dish.

Drizzle generously with olive oil and sprinkle generously with salt and pepper.

Bake until the tomatoes look kind of shrunken, about 20-30 minutes, with maybe a couple of the smaller tomatoes starting to turn dark brown at the edges. The aroma will be wonderful.

Remove the pan from the oven and let the tomatoes cool in the pan. If you make these ahead of time, store the tomatoes and oil in a sealed container in the fridge. Let them come to room temp before using.

The Crostini or Bruschetta Things

3 long baguettes (yes, baguette is a French, not an Italian, word. So it's a multi-cultural appetizer.)
Olive oil
About 10-12 nice-sized cloves of garlic, peeled and smashed, more if desired

Place garlic in a small saucepan. Cover with a very generous amount of olive oil - a cup and a half to two cups is good. Place pan on a burner on low heat. You just want to warm the oil and coax the flavor from the garlic.

While the oil and garlic are warming, preheat the oven to 375. (Yes, this is really fun to do in the middle of a muggy summer!)

Slice a baguette, on an angle, about 1/4" to 1/3" thick. Arrange slices on baking sheets. Place baking sheets on racks in the oven, and bake, about 6 minutes, until the bottom side of the bread is starting to brown.

Flip all the sliced pieces over and bake again for another 6 minutes.

Remove these from the oven and flip slices over again. Brush with the garlic oil and pop them back in the oven for a couple more minutes, just to dry the bread out.

Remove from the oven and cool. Store in sealed container.

Basil and Nasturtium Pesto

To make the pesto (and this is very general - I didn't measure anything as I was making it. Just taste as you go and adjust as you wish) you'll need the following:

A BIG bunch of fresh basil. We grow basil in our garden, but I'd used a bunch of it earlier and wasn't sure I'd have enough, so I bought a bunch at the grocery store. And I mean a BIG bunch. This was wrapped in cellophane like a generous bouquet of flowers, if that gives you any indication of how much there was. Oh - here's another - the leaves, after I removed them all from the stems, pretty near filled a large salad spinner basket. There you go! That's how much you'll need.

About 20 good-sized nasturtium leaves. More if you want more peppery-ness in the pesto, less if you don't. None at all if you just want a standard pesto. (I also used a few mustard green leaves, just for fun.)

Olive oil
Pine nuts or walnuts (we had walnuts, so that's what I used) to taste (I used about half a cup
Grated parmesan cheese (about 3/4 of a cup)
Fresh garlic to taste (I used about 6 cloves)
Salt and pepper to taste

Pick all the leaves and rinse off any dirt. Pat them dry on paper towels and place in the bowl of a large food processor, a handful or two at a time. Throw in some of the walnuts and garlic to weigh down the leaves, and process. Drizzle in some olive oil if the mixture seems dry and isn't pureeing nicely. Add more leaves, walnuts, garlic, and oil, and process again. Keep repeating until everything but the cheese, salt, and peper are in the processor, and puree until smoothe. (You can leave it chunky, but for my purposes I wanted it more like a paste. Chunky is nice on pasta.)

Pour green mixture into a bowl, and stir in the cheese. Add salt and pepper to taste.

To store, drizzle on just enough olive oil to cover the top, then seal the bowl with plastic wrap and put in the fridge. Bring to room temp before using. The olive oil on top keeps oxygen away and keeps the green from going brown.

~ Pesto also freezes nicely in ice cube trays. You still want to cover each compartment with a little drizzle of olive oil.

To Assemble It All

You'll need:

The baguette slices
The pesto
The candied tomatoes
Two balls of fresh mozzarella, each about the size of a tennis ball

Preheat the oven to 400 again.

Slice each ball of mozzarella in half, then put each half cut-side down on your cutting board and slice pieces about 1/4" thick, going the short way across. Set these aside.

Spread a generous teaspoonful or two of pesto on the oiled surface of a baguette slice. Top with one cherry tomato (cut side up) at one end of the baguette surface and a slice of mozzarella chese on the over half, with a bit of the cheese slightly overlapping the tomato. Place on a baking sheet. Repeat until the sheet is full, and bake about 5 minutes, until the cheese is starting to melt slightly. Serve.

These were pretty yummy. The nasturtiums and mustard greens give the basil a peppery kick, which is balanced nicely by the sweetness of the cherry tomato and the creamy texture and mild flavor of the cheese.

Hope you like them.

2003-07-27T13:50:00.000-04:00

Two Scallop Recipes

I made both of these for the clambake. Did each with about a pound and a half of fresh sea scallops....

A note about searing - scallops cook rather quickly, so at most these should be on each side about two-three minutes, depending on the individual size of each scallop. Overcooked seafood is a sin.

Sea Scallops with Lime

You'll need:

A pound and a half of sea scallops
A lime (all the juice and about a teaspoon of zest)
Some oil
Some fresh chives for garnish (optional)
A pan
A pair of tongs to turn the scallops over when you sear them

First, heat some oil in a pan
Place the scallops in the oil, not too close together, and sear, first on one end, then the other. (Scallops are shaped like little cylinders, if they're not smushed.)

When you finish the second sear, pour in the lime juice and swirl it around in the pan. Stir the scallops around a bit in the lime juice as it warms up, then remove scallops, place in a bowl, pour the pan juice over them, and sprinkle with the lime zest and the chopped chives.

We served these as appetizers at the clambake, but they'd also be nice divided between two hungry people, with some rice on the side and a green salad and the cold beverage of your choice.

Blackened Sea Scallops With Sauteed Bell Peppers

This recipe was adapted from a recipe for bluefish in the book Miss Ruby's American Cooking by Ruby Adams Bronz. I was going to link to it, but apparently it's now out of print. The bluefish recipe is called "Provincetown Bluefish" - and it's very good also*. But for another party we had once, I thought I'd try it using scallops instead, and it was very popular. I've lessened the amount of heat per scallop - but if you like a lot of heat, blacken both "ends" of the scallop instead of only one as I do in the recipe.

Here goes -

A pound and a half of scallops
Two green bell peppers and two red bell peppers, seeded, julienned, and minced.
1 T paprika
1 T black pepper
1 t cayenne pepper
1/2 t dried thyme
8 T olive oil (half for the peppers, half for the scallops)
8 anchovy fillets, drained and chopped
4 t balsamic vinegar

Okay.

First, combine the paprika, black and cayenne peppers, and the dried thyme. Set aside.

Pour 4 T oil in a large skillet, and sautee the bell peppers, stirring occasionally, until soft. Stir in the chopped anchovy and cook until it dissolves. Shut off the heat, and stir in the balsamic vinegar.

In another pan, heat the remaining oil. Tap one end of each scallop into the paprika/peppers/thyme mixture, and set, that side down, in the hot oil. Sear on one side, then turn over and sear on the other.

Arrange the bell pepper mixture in a large bowl, Then arrange the scallops, paprika/pepper/thyme side up, on top of them. I garnished this with a couple of dried red chili peppers, just to let people know they were spicy.

Again, we served these as appetizers, but they'd make a nice meal too.

* To make the bluefish recipe, just julienne the bell peppers, don't mince them. And substitute 2 1-lb bluefish fillets, skinned, for the scallops.

2003-07-26T11:17:00.000-04:00

How to Eat an Oreo, the Alex Way...and other Alex stuff...:

(His first Oreo ever, by the way...)

Hold this new edible item reverently and gaze upon it for a moment.

Look up at father, who is devouring most of the rest of the package like Cookie Monster, only taller, thinner, and not as blue. Or as furry.

Decide to proceed at a slower pace, and take a bite.

"MMMMMMmmmmmm!!!"

Move the broken piece of chocolate cookie around in mouth, just savoring the flavor and allowing it to melt.

Drool some of this chocolatey goodness down your chin.

Wipe chin with hand and bite off more of the cookie. This time there's some of the creamy filling in the bite, too!

"MMMMMMmmmm!!!"

Look up at parents in amazement and joy.

Continue as before, savoring, mushing, and drooling.

Repeat until cookie is gone, or can no longer be recognized as such.

Wipe mouth with other hand, too, so both hands and most of the face are chocolatey and sticky. Rub hand in hair.

Rub palms of hands on high chair tray, creating pretty black and white patterns.

Realize there are still a few uneaten cheerios still on the tray.

Pick these up, coat them thoroughly with melty chocolate.

Eat.

"MMMMMmmmm!"

Smile big for mommy and the camera!

Yell and cry in outrage when mommy spoils all the fun by cleaning off the tray, the chocolatey hands, the chocolatey face, neck, tummy, hair, etc.

Demand release from the chair, since obviously there will be no more cookies today.

Toddle over to the bookcase and pull 5 or 6 cookbooks off at random and dump in a heap on the floor.

Toddle into the living room, find a toy to punish, and throw it down the basement stairs.

Repeat.

Repeat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He is babbling differently now - a lot more variety in vowel and consonant sounds. It's his jazzing, scat-singing phaze. "De do de do de do ba bee do dwee..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He likes to help me in the kitchen by bringing pots and pans to me from the cupboard.

He brings me the smallest - with obvious pride - and I say "Thank You!" and put it on the counter.

He brings me the next-to-smallest one, still proud, and I say "Thank You!" again and put that one on the counter.

We repeat this with 3 more larger and larger pots.

He struggles with the largest one, but he is a mighty little man, and does not require assistance from a mere mommy-woman!

When I have all of them, I bring them back to him so he can do it again.

He loves this.

So do I.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Have to go now - he just woke up from a nap. Time to play!

2003-07-21T20:06:00.000-04:00

I Wish it Was Friday Again

But it's Monday. The kind of a Monday that gives other Mondays a bad name....

Anyway, our 2nd Annual Clambake/Cookout/Homebrew Fest thing went, overall, very well. The weather was perfect, and we were pretty well organized, so we found ourselves actually sitting around, about 1:30 on Saturday (the thing was to start at 3:00) almost twiddling our thumbs in boredom.

I did a count today, on paper, and we had close to 60 people in all (including children ranging from 10+ years down to about 6 weeks). The kids were cute - the main group of kids, once they got comfortable with each other, divided naturally into "girls against the boys" and did all the usual things like chase each other around and around the house, and lock each other out of places, play hide 'n' seek, and have a contest to see how long each person could keep their arm in the icewater surrounding our rootbeer keg. (I think it was Ceileidh.)

There was way more than enough food, and I'll post the recipes at some point, but I'm not sure if it'll be in this post - it's really muggy tonight, we're supposed to be getting a storm and showers, but I'm starting to doubt that...it's just going to stay muggy FOREVER!!!!!!

Okay. Other little bits and pieces from Saturday...

Alex had some adventures. Bill had propped a small boat (about 8') on an angle and filled the lower half with ice and water and cans and bottles of soda and beer. At one point, Alex fell into the icewater. He had been taking ice from the boat and putting it in the can that held the rootbeer keg...and he must have leaned too far and lost his balance. My sister was closest, and she grabbed him - he didn't fall all the way in, but his face and chest got wet. He let out a scream and cried a bit, but didn't seem too worried about it after a minute or so. I brought him in and changed him and he proceeded to have a lovely day.

Later on he ate about 4-5 wedges of watermelon. Or, rather, he would bite off huge chunks of watermelon, so huge his mouth barely closed, and then decide it was too much, so he'd remove smaller portions of watermelon from his mouth and drop them on my shirt. (Or Bill's - whichever one of us had him at that moment.) Then he'd chew on the rind and bite chunks off of that.

The kids loved Bill's rootbeer. Adults loved it too, but I think the kids really enjoyed the freedom they had to fill their own cups with rootbeer on tap. And, amazingly, no one squirted anyone else!

What else...

Bill and the various other diggers dug about 50-60 pounds of steamers in total.

My parents brought two vats of clam chowder and two watermelons.

My brother-in-law deep-fried two turkeys.

Someone brought stuffed portobello mushrooms that everyone said were great and I didn't even see them, never mind taste one. They went fast.

Next year we need to make sure we can cover the food - toward the end the flies had seriously crashed the party and we ended up just throwing out a ton of food.

Bill smoked up some bluefish fillets too, and that went fast, as usual.

I made two kinds of scallops, and crostini with pesto and fresh mozzarella and candied tomatoes, and my baby buffalo ball sandwiches. Everything I brought out went.

Alex really likes pesto.

I changed his diaper before I put him to bed tonight...pesto is very very green, isn't it....

My friend Julie and her husband brought their baby boy and he is just so tiny!! Hard to believe Alex was that size this time last year...

My kitchen felt like it was about 200 degrees at one point, and I also noticed that I was perfectly happy in it, even though under any other circumstance (except a bubble bath) I generally don't like being too warm.

Someone brought buffalo wings and I didn't get any of those, either.

Or the shrimp.

Or those really yummy looking cupcakes...

It was truly a wonderful experience to look around my back yard and see all sorts of family and friends gathered in groups, kids running around or playing in Alex's little pool, everyone looking happy and relaxed and content.

And I will stop there, for tonight.

2003-07-17T20:43:00.000-04:00

Really quick post...

We are having our second annual clambake/cookout/homebrew fest on Saturday and it's been a busy week getting ready. Did a lot of food prep tonight, and tomorrow will be a half day at work with the rest of my share of the food work done after that.

Bill and some friends (Rick, Tom) dug steamers (soft shell clams) this afternoon and came home with about 25 pounds of them. Tomorrow he and my brother-in-law and John and Rick (again - thank you!) will dig again, and also try to catch more bluefish, which will be smoked on Saturday morning.

This week is a blur - but a happy one. I love to cook, and, to steal a quote directly from Jamie Oliver ("The Naked Chef") - "I love feeding people an' I love 'em to be 'appy." Sums it up for me perfectly!

I'll write more another day. Lots of food to discuss. And should be a good crowd, too!

2003-07-15T19:20:00.000-04:00

Grilled Shrimp

This is for my cousin, Susan, who asked for a copy of this recipe. It's one of the dishes Bill cooked for me on my birthday...It's from "Betty Crocker's Mexican Made Easy" - which, despite the "made easy" aspect of it, is actually a pretty good, authentic-ish Mexican cookbook.

Anyway - here it is:

1/4 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup tequila or lime juice
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
2 T lime juice
1 T ground red chilis
1/2 t salt
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 red bell pepper, finely chopped
24 large raw shrimp, peeled and deveined (leave tails intact)

Mix all ingredients except shrimp in shallow glass or plastic dish; stir in shrimp. Cover and refrigerate 1 hour.

Remove shrimp from marinade; reserve marinade. Thread 4 shrimp on each of 6 8-inch metal skewers. Grill over medium coals, turning once, until pink, 2 to 3 minutes on each side.

Heat marinade to boiling in nonaluminum saucepan; reduce heat to low. Simmer uncovered until bell pepper is tender, about 5 minutes. Serve with shrimp.

Serves 6.

(or two gluttons...)

2003-07-10T06:32:00.000-04:00

The Coxsackie Virus

This is what Alex has.

In case anyone was interested in further reading.

2003-07-09T19:51:00.000-04:00

Variation on a Theme - Shrimp and Fettucine

I've got this idea of making a pesto with the leaves from our nasturtium plants. The flowers and leaves are edible, and both are kind of peppery. No, not kind of, they are peppery.

Anyway, tonight's dinner was sort of an easing into that idea. I figured I'd cut the nasturtiom peppery-ness with the traditional fresh, bright flavor of basil. So, out to the garden with my scissors....I snipped a bunch of basil and several big nasturtium leaves. Brought them inside, rinsed them off, and proceeded to make this dinner:

Couple of handfuls of frozen shrimp, thawed and peeled. (Save the shells in the freezer to make a seafood stock some time.)
Olive oil
Butter
Salt
Red pepper flakes
About 10 cloves of garlic, peeled, smashed, and minced
A handful of shelled walnuts, finely chopped
About...um...6 big nasturtium leaves, and about 30-40 leaves of fresh basil, assorted sizes
A slug of white wine (mine was a pinot grigio/pinot bianco blend - Luna di Luna, because that is what we had in the fridge)
Freshly grated Parmeggiano-Reggiano cheese to taste
A pound of whole wheat fettucine

Okay.

Start water boiling in a pot.

While that's working, put about 2 T of butter and about the same amount of olive oil in a pan and warm it to melt the butter. Add the minced garlic to soften.

While the garlic is softening, chop the walnuts. Add them to the garlic, stir, and increase the flame a tiny bit.

Chiffonade the nasturtium and basil leaves: Lay the leaves (do one kind at a time) on top of each other, roll tightly, and then finely slice. They'll be long, thin green strips. Mix the basil and nasturtium leaves together and set aside.

When the water in the pot comes to a boil, throw in some salt and then put in the fettucine.

While the pasta cooks, heat the oil/butter/garlic/walnut mixture so it's bubbling, throw in a slug of wine (probably about 3/4 of a cup) and cook to reduce and burn off some/most/all of the alcohol.

When the liquid has reduced and the mixture doesn't smell so obviously of wine, add your shrimp and coat with the mixture in the pan. Cook slowly, stirring and tossing the shrimp, until they are almost completely cooked. Add the nasturtium and basil, some salt, some red pepper flakes, toss to combine, reduce flame to the lowest setting, and cover with a lid.

Drain the pasta (when it's cooked to your taste).

Uncover the shrimp mixture, grate the cheese onto it, and serve over the pasta.

It was pretty good.

Next time, I'm making a straight pesto with mostly the nasturtiums...just to see how that is.

I'll let you know.

2003-07-09T16:42:00.000-04:00

The "G" Word

The phone rang.

"Hey, sorry to bother you, but it's going nuts here...so-and-so is freaking out about her delivery - did we commit to any specific dates? She says we did."

"No, I was told it was looking like the 11th or 12th, and that's what I told her. But nothing was confirmed."

"Well she's saying you told her it would be the 11th or 12th and the agent wants to deliver tomorrow and she doesn't know if she can take it."

"So she has a place? I've been waiting for her to call me back and let me know. She doesn't return phone calls. She's been difficult to work with."

"Okay, just wanted to check."

"Okay. Sorry it's nuts there and sorry I'm here."

"Don't worry about it. See you tomorrow."

"Don't worry about it."

So I immediately feel guilty about not being at work. And yet I know the place will certainly go on without me. And it is far more important that I be here, with my child, than there.

But still. I have an overdeveloped sense of responsibility.

If I could be in two (or twenty) places at once, I would.

Grrr. Just had to vent.

2003-07-09T15:36:00.000-04:00

Home for the Afternoon

So my son has hoof and mouth disease.

No, not really. But he has a contagious virus referred to as "hand, foot and mouth disease" because those are the areas of the body that manifest symptoms.

Alex's started with white spots and little sores (or lesions, but "lesions" just sound too big and scary to inhabit my son's sweet little mouth) in his mouth and throat, and today the sharp-eyed people at daycare found a little, teeny tiny blister-like spot on his left hand. So off we went to the doctor, and yes, he has the virus.

So he's home for the rest of the week. I'm here today with him because Bill is teaching. Tomorrow and Friday Bill will be home.

And for someone with such an icky-looking mouth, Alex is in a great mood. He also had a 2 hour nap when he got home from the doctor. And since he's been up he's had 3 little bottles of juice (assorted varieties: carrot-apple, apple, and pear)...he's working on another bottle of apple with some ice cubes in it. He likes to rattle it.

And he has industriously been tossing new things down the basement stairs.

Today:

his bottle
a mini-basketball
a little plastic person
a dustpan and brush

he tried to send a book ("Goodnight, Gorilla") down, too, but as he had grabbed it by some of the middle pages, it was open and flapping and could not fit through the gate railings. It is on the floor, near the gate, waiting for him to get ambitious again.

And I made him a toy: I took the big box that his new stroller came in, cut the flaps off one end, and cut a window/door at the other end on the side. I covered all the "raw" edges with packing tape, and voila! a tunnel. He was very happy with it. Crawled in one end, out the other, back in that end, out the other, in that end again, out the other, back in again, out the other end...and on and on.

Then he decided it was too quiet in here. So he hit buttons on two of his ride-on toys and I got to listen to Mix-Master Alex's blend of happy hillbilly instrumentals mingled with the fire-fighting vehicle chant ("Hurry, hurry, to the fire, I'm the fire truck. Hurry, hurry, to the fire, I'm the fire truck!")

Over and over and over.

Gotta go now - he's growling at me.

2003-07-07T20:43:00.000-04:00

Separation Anxiety

I couldn't fall asleep last night for an eternity. I don't know if it was the loud air conditioner in the room, or the mugginess when I shut off the A/C to get rid of the noise, or the billions of thoughts playing dodge-ball with my brain.

Among the billions were thoughts about Alex's daycare.

He has recently "transitioned" (as they say) from the infant room to the early toddler room. I believe I've mentioned this before. And I didn't initially like the woman in charge of that room. I'm gradually softening on that score, but still...I miss the old room, the old ways....I do not do change well.

We have to bring the crib sheets home on Fridays and back on Mondays in a pillowcase with our child's name on all of them. I brought in a dark green pillowcase - think nature, think masculine without being too stereotypical, think we had some spare dark green pillowcases and it was better, in my mind, than gray or pink - with "Alex" written on it in black fabric marker. His two crib sheets were to be "transitioned" over from the infant room, where they have been since September. (When your child is in the infant room, they launder the sheets for you. After that, the honeymoon is over.)

Well, last Thursday I took home a green pillowcase with stuff in it...stuff that I later discovered did not belong to Alex. So I washed some other little boy's sheet and blanky and dark green pillowcase, and spent way too much time last night being annoyed at all the confusion (sippy cups and bottles that aren't mine being returned in Alex's knapsack...things of mine - okay, Alex's - missing...food I send in for his afternoon snack served to him at breakfast...it's just anarchy in the early toddler room, I tell ya...) that was stemming from the change.

So this morning, ultra-organized Mommy had all the snacks and meals and beverages ready to go, along with (for water play on M,W,F) water shoes, waterproof, leakproof diaper-like thing, hat, and a towel, and two sets of spare clothes, and a plastic bag for wet clothes after water play, and the permission slip signed so the daycare staff can apply sunscreen to my son in the afternoon without fear of a lawsuit...oh, and the "tuition" check for the week.

Alex and I headed off to daycare, and I brought him in and put his cold things in the fridge, and his lunch bag with the rest of his things on the windowsill, and the backpack on a hook...had a civil chat with the woman in charge of that room, told her yes, I put sunscreen on Alex this morning...yes, it's okay if a tee shirt gets wet...and so on. Did not discuss the pillowcase issue. I forgot about it, of course.

And then I kissed Alex on the head and said bye-bye and headed for the door.

And Alex, who had been ignoring me while I talked to the woman in charge, suddenly did not want me to go.

He bawled. His nose and around his eyes turned red, as mine do when I cry. My baby boy.

I did what you're supposed to do in order to produce a well-adjusted child - I smiled reassuringly, said bye bye again in a confident, "this-is-not-anything-to-get-upset-about" tone of voice, and waved at my sobbing child as I went out of the room and shut the door.

I could still hear him yelling and crying. (When he was evaluated as a newborn, his cry was described as "lusty." It is that.)

I could hear him loud and clear as I walked down the hall and toward the front door, dropping my check in the little mailbox outside the office.

The sound of his cries ended when I closed the outside door of the building.

But not in my head. And not in my heart.

I felt horrible.

I wanted to run back in and scoop him up and take him home and stay there.

I feel like that often, but he hasn't cried like this until recently.

There have been plenty of days when I have dropped him off and have had to get his attention just to be polite and say goodbye.

"Yeah, Mom, whatever. I'm playing with this rubber ball. I'll see you later."

I have had days where I have to focus VERY HARD on something else so as not to cry when I leave Alex with other people. Those days I hate my job with a passion. I blame it for putting my son in daycare. They could have let me work from home. I could have handled it. But no. Two weeks before my maternity leave was up they finally made their decision: no. You can't. It would set a precedent. All the other moms would want to work from home, too.

I didn't have time to look for something else. We needed my paycheck. I went back.

I cried many mornings after dropping Alex off. Sometimes I barely got into my car before the tears started falling. And since work is just up the road, I didn't have a lot of time to recover. But I faked it well.

I got better as I realized that in some ways this was a good thing for Alex. I can remember being painfully shy as a nursery school student. Age four. Who knows - maybe if I'd been around other kids since infancy, I wouldn't have been so timid.

Who knows?

But in order to keep from being miserable every day, I have told myself that this is good for him...it teaches him to socialize...he won't feel scared and shy like I used to on the first day of school...he'll be accustomed to big groups of kids his age...he'll have an easier time making friends...yes...it's for the best.

And he was always happy to see the women and other kids at daycare. He developed relationships with them, they were additional aunts and great-aunts...and lots of little potential friends.

Plus there were a lot of toys there that he didn't have at home.

So daycare was fun. And it was okay for me to go.

But recently he has noticed me leave.

And it was the worst this morning.

He cried. And I wanted to.

I still do.

I try to remind myself that this is necessary. Ultimately this is for the best. This will teach self-reliance...independence...courage.

He will be the better for it.

It's harder, though, to convince myself that I will.

2003-07-06T08:25:00.000-04:00

The rest of yesterday...

Spent late afternoon/evening at my parents' house. My sister and her kids were there too (my brother-in-law had to work) and we had cheese and crackers, chips and salsa, and other "snacky" stuff...then salad and raw vegetables and dip, and chowder and clamcakes. And then lemon sponge pie (of course) and a blueberry pie for dessert.

A few snapshots:

Alex trying to play Houdini by grabbing a placemat and yanking on it. Unfortunately a plate of blueberry pie went along for the ride, flipped over mid-air, and landed face down on the carpet. Fortunately it was out on the porch, it's indoor-outdoor carpeting, and should be relatively easy to clean. I hope.

Alex and my parents' standard poodle, Rosie, playing "catch," sort of, with one of Rosie's squeaky toys. Alex is fascinated with Rosie. He calls her "dih da" - which translates as "kitty cat" - but pretty much covers any furry animal at this point in his life. Alex is a little taller than Rosie's back. But not much. She is a very tolerant dog, ignoring his over-enthusiastic "pats" on her back. Every time she walked by him and he got a chance to hit her on the back, he giggled with delight. Such a huge kitty cat....

Okay, only two little snapshots...Alex is tired of playing by himself now and is ordering me to get off the computer.

I hear. I obey.

2003-07-05T14:05:00.000-04:00

Chef Bill

What a lunch!

This is what Bill made for me:

Fresh guacamole.
Grilled shrimp marinated in a red pepper and chili sauce.
Quesadillas with cheese, mushrooms, onions, tomatoes, poblano chilis, and cilantro.
A kick-ass margarita.

It was fabulous. As he is.

And right now, Alex is taking a nap, and so is Bill.

So I'm sitting here, finishing the last slightly watery (the ice melted) sips of my margarita (I'll publish the recipe later - it's very good - way better than any mix) while my guys sleep.

Later, we'll head down to Wakefield for the family dinner.

More good eating.

But this lunch was spectacular.

2003-07-05T10:55:00.000-04:00

New Additions

I've added a few more links over on the right. Some (the food ones) I had up before when I had the old template and lost them when I switched templates. They're back.

And there are a few more "People to see"...and I've alphabetized them, and no, I have no idea why I keep getting a blank line right before the link to Sheila Astray...there's no blank line in my template. The blog's just messing with me, clearly.

Anyway, I thank Sheila for the link to Aimless Forest...she emailed me the link a couple of days ago and I am grateful.

I noticed Anne...straight from the hip when I first started my own blog. She was listed in Blogspot's "Blogs of Note" and I started reading her and go back every so often to see how she's doing.

The rest I have found mainly through Sheila's blog, and they are people I like to pop in and read when I have time....

Anyway, that's the latest.

Bill is making me lunch today (guacamole and chips...cheese and mushroom and cilantro quesadillas, and grilled shrimp with a red pepper and chili sauce, and a margarita. Just one - I'm on call this weekend.) and then we'll go to my parents' house for dinner with the family...chowder and clamcakes, salad, and lemon sponge pie for dessert.

Yum.

2003-07-05T10:32:00.000-04:00

I am Hestia...

No big surprise here...

Which Greek Goddess are you? take the quiz.

2003-07-05T09:15:00.000-04:00

Lemon Sponge Pie

My mother got this recipe from a friend of hers, and for years it's been my "birthday cake" of choice. Served chilled, with some fresh whipped cream (or not) it's perfect on a hot July day.

Here it is:

You'll need to have an unbaked 10" pie crust ready in a pie plate. Use your favorite pie crust recipe, or buy a pre-made one - they're in the freezer section, with the other dessert things. Keep it in the fridge until you're ready to pour the filling in.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

You'll need:

3 T unsalted butter
1 1/4 C sugar
4 eggs, separated
3 T flour
a dash of salt
1 1/4 C milk
Grated rind of two lemons
1/3 C fresh lemon juice

Cream the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy. Beat in the egg yolks, flour, salt, milk, lemon peel and juice. Set aside.

In separate, VERY CLEAN, dry bowl, beat the egg whites until stiff but not dried out. Fold those into the other mixture and pour into your pie shell.

Bake at 375 for 15 minutes.

Lower the oven temperature to 300 degrees and bake until golden on top, and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. This will be about 45 minutes or so, depending on your oven.

Let cool on a rack, and then put it in the fridge for a few hours or overnight. It can be eaten unchilled, but I think it's best cold. (Just my humble little opinion.)

And like I said earlier, it's nice with some fresh whipped cream, or you can sprinkle the top with confectioners' sugar.

One year my mother made a lime sponge pie, and that was very good too.

Enjoy!

2003-07-05T04:17:00.000-04:00

Oh this is just not fair.

I have been typing for the past HOUR and I just went to publish it and got a "Big Post ERROR MESSAGE" and everything I wrote is GONE.

I'm not going to write it all over again. I'm going back to bed now.

I want to hit something.

Oh, yeah, it's my birthday. I'm going to post a recipe for Lemon Sponge Pie later - it's what I have every year instead of birthday cake. It's very good.

I'm so angry.

Maybe I need to move on....

2003-07-04T10:16:00.000-04:00

Alex update

Some new things with Alex...

He's figured out how to sit down. Not on the floor - that's old news. No, he's learned how to back up to a chair (or toy, or parent's leg) that's at the proper height for him to sit on to, and then he sits. It's adorable to watch.

And sometimes he'll decide, from halfway across the room, that he wants to sit, for instance, on Daddy's leg, since Daddy's sitting on the floor and the leg is at about the proper height. So he'll turn and back up - from across the room - carefully, (you can see the focus and concentration on his face) until he feels Bill's leg with the back of his calf, and then he'll lower his little diaper-clad tush onto his father's leg...and sit.

And smile proudly.

It's a riot.

He has also discovered that throwing things down a flight of stairs is pretty interesting.

We took the door to the basement stairs off shortly after we bought this house because we never closed the door anyway. (The litter box is down there in the boiler room, so the cat needs constant access.) And then when Alex became mobile, Bill installed a really good gate to keep Alex safe and still allow the cat access to her privy.

Alex knows he can't open the gate - he's tried. Shaking it like a prisoner demanding release doesn't work. So if he can't get down those stairs, at least he can throw his toys down them instead.

So that's what he does. First it was the little things - the little ping-pong ball sized plastic balls and pop beads...one by one they have been flung. He watches them bounce down and slam against the wall at the bottom. Then he goes and fetches another missile.

Now he's up to his plastic garden tools. The spade made it all the way to the bottom. The little rake thing landed a few stairs down and stopped.

He has a ball, about 6 or 7 inches in diameter. I watched him decide, in the living room, that this would be a good thing to throw...he took it in both hands and toddled toward the kitchen...past the gate at first, just onto the kitchen tile, then he turned around and stood at the gate...raised the ball above his head - and above the gate...and threw it. Bounce, bounce bounce thud-bounce. All the way down.

And he's so serious about it, too. He doesn't laugh or giggle or anything. It's like a science project. Something this size and of this composition will travel this far and bounce this many times when the trajectory is at this angle and the rate at which the object is thrown is this many miles per hour....

He is, obviously, brilliant.

2003-07-04T08:12:00.000-04:00

Happy 4th!

I was awake at three this morning and almost came downstairs to write or fiddle around with the template...but I stayed put, figuring I should sleep while I have the opportunity....but maybe tomorrow morning, if it happens again, I'll get up.

Anyway, my sister Meredith sent me this link, which her friend Kate sent to her, and it's pretty cool, and appropriate for today, so I'm passing it along to the masses (haha) (or at least the few!)

Happy Independence Day!

2003-07-03T17:06:00.000-04:00

I'm experiencing technical difficulties...

2003-07-03T16:01:00.000-04:00

What My Birthday Says About Me...

(My birthday is July 5th...yep, coming up a bit too soon again...)

Extraordinary taste
dignity
cultivated airs
loves anything beautiful
moody
stubborn
tends to egoism but cares for those close to it
rather modest
very ambitious
talented
industrious uncontent lover
many friends
many foes
very reliable.

I got that from Abraca-Pocus...and I agree with some of it...actually a lot of it (I am definitely moody...not one of my more lovable traits, I admit)...I'm wondering why I have many foes, though...and also what an industrious uncontent lover is...ants spring to mind...and worker bees...(the industrious thing)...I don't know....and cultivated airs, extraordinary taste...I sound like a snob, don't I?...or that white Persian cat in the "Fancy Feast" cat food commercials...

Anyway, if you want to see what your birthday says about you, go to here.

2003-07-02T19:38:00.000-04:00

Aha!

Cool, I got rid of the orange title. There's no stopping me now...

...so, what else do I want to play with....

2003-07-02T19:37:00.000-04:00

testing...

2003-07-02T06:27:00.000-04:00

Okay, I'm better now

After an okay night's sleep, here I am again trying to fix my mess. I had time to add back a couple of links, and I'll have to finish this project later, as my "quiet time" is about up, have to rouse Alex, get him and myself dressed, and head off into the world...

I'm not sure about the green...I like green...maybe it's the orange title...maybe I can change that, too....

2003-07-01T22:07:00.000-04:00

And the font size seems HUGE.....

2003-07-01T22:06:00.000-04:00

Enough

Okay, I'm done playing with this for tonight.

My eyeballs are drying out.

And I'm annoyed with myself.

Sort of.

And so that's it. I'll finish putting my little links back another day.

Grrrrr.

Goodnight.

2003-07-01T21:53:00.000-04:00

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

Well, I went and changed my template and I'm not sure if I like it and I lost the links (few though they were) from my old template (I think) and why did I decide to do this NOW???

I need to go to bed before I do something else impulsively...like have another meal.

2003-07-01T21:43:00.000-04:00

Okay, something weird is going on with my blog...

2003-07-01T21:38:00.000-04:00

I did 50 crunches and 10 push-ups a little while ago.

........it's a start.

And I seem to have some weird rash or reaction to something happening on my legs...at first, a few days ago, I thought I had been attacked in a few places by gangs of gnats. (Do gnats bite?) Itchy, but no big deal...just part of summer.

But...either I'm being attacked every night by bigger and bigger gangs of gnats, or, as Bill suggested, it's some kind of rash.

Lots and lots of tiny red itchy bumps on my legs, mostly. A couple on my left wrist.

Why just there? What's the connection? I don't get it.

Part of me wonders if it's a reaction to the antibiotic I'm on for the lyme disease...I should look it up and see if this is one of the side effects...hmmm.

During the day, at work, I don't notice it...but at night, at home, wearing shorts instead of pants...I am itchy.

And sometimes I can't stand it, and I scratch my legs fuchia.

And then I stop.

Aren't you glad to be reading all about this?

I need to get some anti-itch stuff at the store tomorrow.

Unless the gnat gangs get me tonight....

2003-06-30T20:53:00.000-04:00

I'm thinking of changing my template. It's starting to feel too dark and murky to me.

Or maybe I'm not feeling as dark and murky as I used to...

Hmmmmmm..............

2003-06-30T20:45:00.000-04:00

Running, Haircuts and Strawberries

Alex and I went to hang out at my parents' house yesterday morning while Bill went off to MA to fish in a tournament. (I won't use his exact phrase, but suffice to say, he didn't do well. Not at all.)

Alex had his breakfast there, at Mom and Dad's house. - a fruit-and-cereal bar, and some toast, and some strawberries that Mom had left over from strawberry shortcake the night before.

Alex is trying to master the art of using a spoon. It's not as easy as it looks, you know. He has a pretty good idea, but he's still working on it.

For a while he was eating with his hands, and I was spooning strawberry slices onto his tray for him to pick up. Then he decided it was time for spoon practice, so he took the teaspoon in his left hand, and started whacking the lone strawberry on his tray with the back of the spoon. Whack! Whack! Whack! The strawberry skidded across the tray in fear. After a few more whacks, he reached for it with his right hand, and as he did this, my mother said "There, it's dead. Now I can eat it."

We laughed hysterically. That's exactly what seemed to be happening.

After that we walked down to the end of the street to watch my nephew, Calvin, who is 10, run in a 4 mile race through town. Actually we just watched him run past us. He did the rest of it unattended by family. I'm so proud of him. Little athelete. He finished in thirty-something minutes and thirty-something seconds (35 and 36, or vice versa...I'm a terrible aunt - I didn't memorize his time.).

I snapped one picture of him as he went by - I hope it comes out somewhat clearly.

Impressive to see all the runners...the very obviously fit people zooming by first, (women with bare midriffs who made me very conscious of the fact that I haven't done a sit up or a crunch in a long, long time), one father pushing a jogging stroller with his little kid inside...and other people, not as fit, but still running, determined....kids mixed in with the adults...Calvin running side by side with his friend, Billy...and one much older gentleman mixed in among them all. My sister told me later that he finished first in his age group - which was the over-80 group. Good for him! And toward the end, the people who were walking the 4 miles. Good for all of them - they were participating in whatever way they could.

After all the people had gone by, my parents and I (and Alex in his new stroller), went back to the house and hung out on the back porch, doing not much of anything. Maybe having coffee...talking, not much else. It was nice.

Later, after the race, my sister and her kids stopped by. We congratulated Calvin on his run, and saw the tee shirt and other free stuff he got for participating.

A bit later, I went over to my sister's house - actually no, that's not completely right - I gave Mere and the kids a ride to their house in the new truck. As Calvin used to say, when he was about 3..."Biiiiiig TWUCK!"

And at Mere's house, Alex had his first haircut.

My little baby boy. Mere trimmed his bangs and the hair at the back of his neck and a little above the ears. Not a lot of cutting. But still. He definitely looks more like a little boy and less like a baby.

I saved the hair in a little plastic bag for his baby book.

Of course.

That night after dinner Bill picked strawberries from our strawberry patch. These are little intense berries that put the "store-boughten" ones to shame. Most of them are about the size of a grape, or smaller...but the flavor is the size of a grapefruit. They're wonderful.

And Alex loves them. LOVES them. "MMmmMM!"

And they're also very juicy. So each one Alex held in his little hand dripped red juice onto his tray and down his arms, all over his face, down his bib, his bare little belly...at one point he had part of a berry mushed into the hair on his forehead.

He looked like an extra in a horror movie.

I took a picture of him like that. He looked very pleased with himself.

2003-06-29T06:08:00.000-04:00

Generosity

I was awake several times during the night because Alex was...and while I tried to get back to sleep various unhappy thoughts fought for attention in my mind.

One thought - is Alex eating enough of a variety of vegetables??? (The "I Must Be A Bad Mother" theme song...it has a lot of different verses...I'm new at this, so I don't know all the words yet, but I've got some of the first part memorized...I'm sure I'll learn the rest as I go...)

And the other thought - or gang of thoughts circling me - was kicked off by this by Sheila and her link to this by Dean Esmay.

I read both of those and felt (wrongly, I know...I just take everything VERY personally...) that they were talking directly to me.

I haven't listed many other blogs over there on the left. I updated Sheila's when she got her own domain recently, but that's been all the activity there for a couple of months.

I'm sorry.

You know what, I don't read a lot of other blogs with any regularity. I'm writing now because I got up early with Bill - he went fishing - and Alex is still sleeping, and I have some time.

I know that's a poor excuse, too.

But back to the blogging thing...so I have added a couple of blogs to the left. Rue, of Abraca Pocus, sent me a lovely note when I had the miscarriage back in April, and I should have added her in at that point but I didn't. And I apologize for that, too.

So that's it for now. I will try to add others - there's one I forgot but Alex is crying now - I think he sensed that I was typing...

I'm going now, and if Alex falls back to sleep, I'll be back again soon. Otherwise...I'm going to Wakefield this morning. My nephew, Calvin, is in a 4-mile race through town...and so I'm going to try to see him run, and also visit my parents and my sister and Calvin and my niece, Natalie.

I apologize again for being a slacker...

2003-06-28T18:53:00.000-04:00

Green Spaghetti

When I was a kid my mother would make spaghetti with just butter and chopped parsley sometimes. She (and we) called it "green spaghetti."

I'm not a huge fan of parsley, but we are growing it anyway. (Just like I'm not a huge fan of broccoli, but we grew some of that too this year...thank you, John.)

Anyway, the parsley is doing very well, so I suggested making green spaghetti tonight. We have left over whole wheat spaghetti in the fridge, so it would take very little time to prepare. Bill went out and harvested parsley...and some basil...some chives...and the last little florets of broccoli. He roughly chopped all the green stuff, and threw in some chopped olives and some capers....(hmmm...this is no longer the original green spaghetti...and I had very little to do with the creation of this dish as well...oh well...I was giving Alex a bath.)

I heated some olive oil in a pan, tossed in all the chopped ingredients, and just basically warmed them slowly in the oil. Sprinkled that with some salt and pepper, and warmed up the spaghetti in a ziploc bag in the microwave. There was a little bit of spaghetti sauce on the spaghetti, too, so there was that little tomato element thrown into the final dish. When the spaghetti was warmed up I put that in the pot with the greens and oil, tossed them all together, and we served it with some grated parmigan. Alex shoved handfuls of it into his mouth. He likes everything. He eats his veggies without a complaint. (He likes sauteed chicken livers too, with a little onion, served over some couscous mixed with diced tomato, basil and olive oil...honest!)

Anyway, dinner was very nice, very quick, very simple. I love having the garden. Bill is the gardener, as he has more time in the summer than I do...and he likes to do it. He is, in this respect, his mother's son. Which works for me. I'm looking forward to later this summer, when the "bigger" things start coming in...eggplant, tomatoes, squash, cucumbers...different kinds of salad greens...herbs...the peas are just about finished, now that the hot weather has arrived...oh, and we have asparagus...horseradish...raspberry plants that were Bill's mom's...not a bad little farm this year.

I look forward to fresh tomatoes, sliced, with slices of fresh mozzarella, mixed with fresh basil and olive oil and a little salt....or fresh eggplant and zucchini on the grill...a thick sliced tomato sandwich with mayo and a pinch of salt. That is the flavor of summer to me.

2003-06-28T12:30:00.000-04:00

Lazy Morning...

This morning we slept late. Even Alex. Maybe it's the weather - it's been horribly humid these last several days...I've felt like a wilted petunia.

Anyway, got up, showered, and gave Alex some breakfast - cut up peaches and a fruit-and-cereal bar. He loves to shove as much food into his mouth as he can, mush it all up, and then make growly noises, mouth opened, nose wrinkled, and eyes scrunched nearly shut. He really enjoys his meals.

We cleaned Alex off, wiped most of the peach juice out of his hair, and set off on our planned journey.

We went Krispy Kreme Doughnuts.

A Krispy Kreme Doughnut shop opened up in Cranston not too long ago and everyone I've spoken to who has had a Krispy Kreme Doughnut has raved about the experience. My sister told me they melt in your mouth. Other people have said similar things. One of Bill's students had brought several dozen in to school and so Bill got to try them too. I have been waiting.

And so this morning, the journey to doughnut mecca...

The drive-thru line wrapped around the building. The parking lot was full. Parking a big truck is an interesting experience when you've only ever driven relatively small cars before. But Bill did well and no other cars suffered in the process.

We went into the building and found ourselves at the end of a long but quickly moving line snaking past a big window through which we could view the entire doughnut-making process. Kind of cool. Little rings of dough ride on a conveyor apparatus that's kind of like a ferris wheel, but instead of riding around in a circle, the little doughnut rings ride up and down, up and down, through a proof box. By the time they reach the end of that ride, they are puffy and light. Next they ride a different conveyor over the surface of hot oil, they are flipped over and cook on the other side, then they ride out of the oil, over a little hill that doesn't seem to serve a purpose other than to give them time to dry a bit. Next the warm, happy little doughnuts ride under a waterfall of honey glaze, and after that, they are ready for eating.

And the lovely thing at Krispy Kreme is that they hand out fresh, warm, sticky, melt-in-your-mouth "original glazed" doughnuts to the people who are standing in line, trying not to drool.

And yes, they were very yummy. Melt-in-your-mouth yummy. Alex enjoyed them too. "MMmm!" We fed him little bits of ours, much to his delight. Except for on his birthday, he has never had so much sugar at a time....

We bought a box of a dozen assorted doughnuts, and then went to our next stop: The Badass Coffee Company. Badass Coffee originates in the town of Kona, on the Big Island in Hawaii. We stayed in Kona on our honeymoon, so it's kind of nice and brings back happy memories of that 10 day period a few years ago. Bill got hot coffee, I got iced, and home we went.

We sat out on the deck, under the umbrella, and ate doughnuts and drank coffee.
And it kind of felt like Hawaii, or at least our memory of how we felt while we were in Hawaii. Which is...no obligations...no feeling of having to be somewhere soon so we'd better eat fast and suck down the coffee and get going...no need to do anything or be anywhere at all...other than right there, outside, in the warm morning air...sky slightly overcast...not as humid as the last few days have been...bits of blue sky peeking through...birds visiting the feeder...squirrels on the ground shoving fallen seed into their cheeks...Alex happily smearing red doughnut jelly all over himself...Bill and I talking...and not talking...just sitting...eating (too many) doughnuts...drinking our coffee...and that's it....

It felt like Hawaii. A nice, lazy morning.

Aloha.

2003-06-26T20:30:00.000-04:00

Alex, the Early Toddler

Alex has moved up to the "Early Toddler" room at daycare. Wednesday was his first day. I think it was more upsetting to me - a whole new routine to get used to, different things I need to make sure he has each day...and the woman who seems to be in charge of that room...hmm...how shall I say this kindly.........I don't like her. She's bossy and kind of condescending of the parents new to her room...I just wasn't happy to have to ask her questions...

...but anyway, at the end of the day, I picked Alex up and a different woman was there - a nice one - and as Alex came toddling over to me, his hair damp and curling, a big drooly smile on his face...she told he he'd eaten chalk. Yellow chalk, apparently, judging by the bits clinging to his face and hair, and the chalky swipe marks on his shorts and his chubby little legs. Yep, my boy ate his first non-toxic art supply.

I couldn't be more proud.

2003-06-26T20:25:00.000-04:00

Lyme update

I had a follow up appointment this morning - apparently I was in the early stage of lyme disease, but it was caught before it had a chance to really get into my system too severely. I'll finish up the antibiotic I've been put on, and go back in a month for follow up bloodwork to make sure everything's back to normal.

It's amazing how much better I feel now, compared to less than a week ago...

And that's it for the moment. It's sweltering here - in the 90's today, not my favorite temperature, and it's humid...especially since the AC in my car needs to be fixed. Anyway, I must go to a different room - it's way too hot in here to type. My fingers are sliding off the keys....

2003-06-24T11:15:00.000-04:00

Other things

It's been such a busy few weeks, too...didn't have time to write, and then last week didn't have the energy to. So now I'm thinking I need to go back and recap everything that had been going on.

And now, as I'm sitting here typing...I don't even feel like it.

Well,

Nope, really, I don't.

Okay, made that decision. I think I touched on some of it a week or two ago anyway - my cousin's wedding, our niece staying with us...Alex's first birthday...work is busy...on and on and on.

But you know what? The immediacy is gone. (I just typed "goine", by the way)

So...sorry...never mind. I'm just going to stick with the present, instead.

So. We have a new truck. Bill's car finally said "No, I don't think I can" and so we now are the proud owners of a burly Ford F150 with a V8 engine, quadcab, and an extender for the bed. Did that sound burly? The truck is black too. Nice, burly, manly color. The quadcab ( I think that's the correct term...I might be spelling it wrong, though...) is nice - we can put the car seat in there no problem...the whole thing seats 6 if necessary, but 5 is more comfortable. Air conditioning, CD player...apparently the gas and brake pedals move to accommodate the driver's height (or, in my case, lack thereof), which is nice. I haven't driven it yet. We just got it Saturday, and I held up just long enough to sign paperwork and drive home. Then I took a nap.

Bill, on the other hand, just swells with manly pride when ever he gazes upon it...and then spoils the effect by practically giggling when he has a reason - or non-reason - to drive it.

It will tow the boat, which is one of the reasons we got a truck instead of a car. And truck instead of an SUV, so we can throw smelly lobster pots or mulch or whatever in the back and not worry about the interior getting dirty and stinky too. So it's functional. And it's pretty and shiny right now, but it will be smelly and ugly by the end of the summer, if my husband has his way.

It's nice to have goals.

Here are the goals for tomorrow.... Bring large things from his mom's house to our house. Large things and things from the shed (i.e. things that might have dirt on them and should definitely go in a truck.) His friend John is coming over to help. The other goal is, of course, to make John drool with manly envy and cry and curse his genital inferiority at the sight of Bill's big, burly, badass truck. This is a guy thing.... I'm glad I will be at work, and not have to witness all the gnashing of the teeth and beating of the chest and swinging from tree limbs that will have to accompany the above ritual. Afterward, of course, they will climb into the truck, friends no matter what, and Bill will magnanimously invite John to drive it. Later, they'll have lunch and a couple of beers together...peace and harmony restored.

But there will still remain that little tiny grin tugging at the corner of Bill's mouth...and there will still be that little look in John's eye....and the little grin will say "who's the man?"....and the little look will say "you bastard."

And then they'll play a few games of darts and I'll get home from work with Alex, and they'll show me what they've done and tell me who's won the most dart games, and then we'll have dinner, and all in all, it will be a nice day for everyone, I think.

That's if for now.

It feels good to type in here again.

2003-06-24T10:49:00.000-04:00

Hi again...

I'm planning to go back to work tomorrow, so I am trying not to take any naps today, in preparation for having to remain upright at my desk tomorrow...though, of course, I can probably look like I'm working and nap upright, phone to my ear, facing my computer...it would probably be a while before anyone noticed. Unless, as I mentioned the other day to my sister, I started to drool...

This has been a weird week. The aches, the chills, the not sleeping well, then the constant sleeping from Friday throughout most of the weekend...I don't know when I've slept that much. And it wasn't something I could argue myself out of. It was really strange. I'd just suddenly say to Bill - I have to go lie down - and march upstairs and flop on the bed and thrash around a bit trying to get comfortable (which is nearly impossible anyway - we need a new set of mattresses)...and then zonk out completely for a few hours. I never do that.

Yesterday I had to go have an ultrasound on my right leg, to rule out a blood clot. I did not think I had a blood clot, and I don't think anyone else really thought I did, but they have to rule it out. So I went over to the radiologist's yesterday afternoon and had my ultrasound.

The only other ultrasounds I've ever had have been abdominal...pregnancy-related. So I was kind of curious about this one. It was pretty similar - the radiologist, a woman, drizzled warm goop down my leg for the ultrasound thing (let me know if I'm getting too technical here) to slide around on, and then she started up at the top of my leg. She found the main vein that runs the length of my leg, and showed me that on the screen. Both the vein and the artery that hangs out with it. Then she'd press on my leg to compress the vein. If it winked, on the screen, that was good - no clot. So she went down my leg, stopping at various points, checking the wink. She also switched to a different screen, with sound this time, and pressed and had me flex my foot and then let go. This was apparently to make sure the blood was flowing properly. I watched the indicator on the screen track the flow on a graph - and listenened to the accompanying "swoosh" sound as I flexed and un-flexed. This went on all the way down to my ankle. It hurt when she went over the red area on the back of my knee, a sharp little pain, like I've got glass jammed in there. But I didn't kick her or anything, so we got along just fine.

No blood clot. I showed her the red area on my leg again, and we discussed how it may have happened - if, indeed, a tick got in there and poisoned me. And that was it. I limped out of the building and went home. Fun fun fun.

The doctor also has switched me to one of the antibiotics usually prescribed for lyme disease, just in case. I have to take this twice a day for 28 days!!! Ugh. And one of the little warnings on the label says to avoid prolonged exposure to natural or artificial sunlight. Which is okay - the sun makes me squint and gives me a headache anyway, but still...being told not to go out and soak up the rare bit of sun we've been given so far this year just makes me want to. Like I'd had big plans to work on my tan this year. hahaha.

So that's the update with whatever's going on with me, physically.

2003-06-22T09:28:00.000-04:00

I'm still here...

Haven't really written in quite a while, and this isn't going to be much more than a quick hello...I am wiped out. Since Tuesday I've been achy, had chills, fever, little appetite, incredible fatigue...and so I went to the doctor on Friday and they siphoned off a few gallons of blood to test...I also noticed a weird looking pinkish red thing on the back part of my right knee...and more red/pink around it. And the calf on that leg feels sore this morning - like I've recently had a charley horse in that muscle...anyway, I was talking to my sister on the phone this morning, and she was on her computer, so she looked up lyme disease...and damned if I don't have pretty much all the early symptoms. The dr has already put me on antibiotics while they run all their blood tests...but I think Dr. Meredith has pretty much diagnosed me. I'll call the other dr monday to see if they've got any results back.

And I'm thinking why would I have lyme disease? We don't have a whole lot of deer (and their little tick friends) in my neighborhood...so how??? And wise-woman Mere reminded me - we were at our cousin Steve's wedding a couple of weeks ago. At Colt State Park. Which is a woodsy place, most likely crawling with ticks, hungry for human flesh.....anyway, she's probably right. That's the only place I can imagine encountering a tick. I was wearing a long dress...wouldn't have noticed it crawling up my leg.....yick.

And this is about all that I have the energy to type today. I want to go lie down again.

I'll write more eventually.

2003-06-14T14:40:00.000-04:00

Solitude

A rare moment: I am completely alone. (Except for the cat, who is snoozing, and the fish in the tank downstairs.)

I am completely alone.

It's been a full couple off weeks since I last wrote...work is very busy, our niece, Lisa, who is almost 17, is up from Florida and has been staying with us...my cousin, Steve, got married last Sunday and my mother and I did some baking for the reception...Alex just turned one, and we had a party for him last night and so I've been baking (his cake) and cooking for that this week.

Today, Lisa is visiting other aunts and cousins...and Bill just left, with Alex in tow, to go to a couple of Gaspee Day cookouts. I was invited, and ordinarily I would have gone...but it's so rare that I have time all to myself, and Bill offered to take Alex with him...so here I am.

And I don't know what to do with myself.

No - that's not quite it.

I have too many options. I'm writing, which was one of the things I wanted to do. But I'm not going to write the whole time. Because I also want to just...relax. I want to do absolutely nothing. I picked up a couple of magazines at CVS when I went to pick up the pictures from last night's party...and I could sit out on our deck, under the umbrella, with something cold to drink, and read forgettable articles in "People" and "Cosmopolitan"...or I could take a nap, which actually is tempting.

.....................................................

Just sitting here, listening to the faint hum of the computer modem and the trickley water sound coming up from the fishtank in the basement. Those are the only sounds I hear, except for when I'm typing...or, distantly, a neighborhood kid yelling up the street...or a car driving down Post Road...there's a dog barking now.............but still...it is quiet.

I think I will stop typing for now. The keys are too noisy. I want to soak up the silence for a while....

2003-05-31T16:02:00.000-04:00

Gardens

Just an update...

Our vegetable garden is full - and Bill has planted other things behind it and nearby...we've got rhubarb, baby peas, carrots, broccoli, nasturtiums, tomatoes, squash, peppers, asparagus, beets, soybeans, and more that I can't think of at the moment. He's also growing hops, which are amazing - they grow about a foot every day, I think. And our flowers are all doing well.

The irises, in particular, look great this year. I love them - tall, elegant, stately. We've got two kinds of purple, two varieties of white, and a newly discovered rust color that we didn't know we had. And we bought some more...

Gotta run - Alex is crying - he's got a viral infection -sore throat and ears. Not a happy little guy today.

More on the garden later...

2003-05-28T19:29:00.000-04:00

Dinnertime

Snapshot:

We are sitting at the table, dinner is over, for the most part. (Ground turkey browned with small-diced mushrooms, a shallot, salt, pepper, chili powder, garlic powder, onion powder, worcestershire sauce, and a little ketchup, dished up with warm flour tortillas, fresh guacamole, some salsa, shredded monterey jack cheese...) (and for Alex-cut up waffles dipped in some of the guacamole...some of the ground turkey...one taste of the salsa (he made a face)...and juice from his sippy cup)

Anyway...we are sitting at the table.

Alex has the remnants of dinner all over his hands, arms, face, and in his hair.

He and my husband are blowing raspberries at each other - loud, juicy, joyful noises. Bill. Alex. Bill. Alex. Bill. Alex....

This went on for about 5 minutes.

I watched it...like a tennis match...with volleys and lobs...of rude noises, smiles and spit...back and forth...back and forth...back and forth....

They are funny people...my males.

2003-05-26T10:41:00.000-04:00

It Always Rains on Beer Brewing Day

It's true. Well, almost always true. Just about every day set aside for brewing is wet, chilly, and generally unpleasant - at least for the madmen standing outside watching the water boil....

So, yes, it is raining, and has been raining for enough days in a row that I'm wishing our boat was big enough to be called an ark.

And today is the day Bill and John set aside to brew up a batch of red ale to offer at our clambake/cookout in July.

Bill started heating water at 7 this morning. He got everything measured out last night, ground the grains, got all the equipment ready, and checked off these tasks on his "to do" list. (Beer-brewing is the only thing in his life that motivates him to actually type up a to do list. Everything else he wings.)

And John was supposed to arrive at 8 this morning, but, because he is John and is chronically late, we all knew 8:00 am was pure fantasy. However, this morning he surpassed himself. The phone rang at 9:30 - "I overslept. I'm leaving now." He is here now and they are getting ready to start the second batch of beer, which is a raspberry stout, and will improve with age, so this will not be consumed until the fall or winter. (11 12-ounce bags of raspberries in this 5 gallon batch. It's an investment, but it's very, very delicious stuff.)

Alex is taking a nap right now, which has afforded me these few minutes to type uninterrupted.

2003-05-25T17:54:00.000-04:00

5:49 pm

Snapshot:

I am searing large sea scallops in olive oil. I've already made a warm potato salad.

Bill is sitting at the dining room table looking over his beer-making notes.

Alex is in his high chair eating Cheerios and having a conversation with himself.

2003-05-24T21:30:00.000-04:00

Calvin

We just got home from seeing my nephew, Calvin, receive his Junior 1st Degree Black Belt in Karate. He is 10. The ceremony, with all its demonstrations, was spectacular - though I missed some of it because Alex wasn't quite as happy to be there as most of the rest of the audience. Bill and I took turns letting Alex crawl around behind the bleachers, hoping he would work off some steam and consent to sit still, quietly, for the rest of the evening. That didn't happen.

But - I got to see all of the demonstrations Calvin was in, including and especially the solo piece he choreographed to the first part of Rush's "Tom Sawyer." He was something to see - all motion, focused energy, a serious blur of white-clad arms and legs.

I took pictures - I hope they come out. I used 800 speed film...we'll see. I think my last shot will come out, at least. At the end of the event, each student was called up to receive a new jacket with their name embroidered on the back, their new black belt, a handshake, and a rose to give to his or her mother. I got a nice shot of Calvin giving my sister her rose.

I watch Calvin with both pride and amazement...and disbelief. I can't believe my sister's little baby boy, with his chubby little legs and his fat cheeks, has grown into this long-limbed boy in perpetual motion, whose feet are the same size as mine. Little Calvin, who called me "Ah-dee-dee" (Auntie Jayne) when he was tiny...my sister's first child, who, in some ways, was my first practice child. He, and then his sister, Natalie, paved the way for my eventual mommy-hood.

Calvin, you were exciting to watch tonight, and I am proud of how hard you have worked to get to this point. Keep up the good work. But just remember: you will always be my ticklish little nephew, and I can drop you to the floor with just a wiggle of my finger...no matter how black your belt is. :)

Love, Auntie Jayne

2003-05-24T10:06:00.000-04:00

Creme Brulee

Tuesday night when everyone was over I made Creme Brulee, which is an egg custard slow-baked in a water bath, then chilled, then sprinkled with granulated sugar, and then the sugar is caramelized either under a broiler or with some kind of blow torch. After it melts and browns, the sugar hardens, so when you dip your spoon into the dessert, you hit a crackly layer of sugar and then the rich, creamy texture of the custard. It's a nice contrast.

The recipe I used is from my Baking & Pastry Formulas book, which was one of my two "bibles" when I was a baking and pastry arts degree candidate at Johnson & Wales University a couple of years ago. I didn't finish, which bothers me if I think about it too long. But I learned a lot while I was there, so it was not wasted time.

Here is the recipe for 12 servings of Creme Brulee (which translates as "Burnt Cream"):

(Just about all the measuring was done by weight, not cups, so it helps if you have a kitchen scale. If you don't have one, send me an email and I'll figure out the conversions for you)

You need:

12 4-ounce ramekins
2 13 x 9 metal cake pans
A fine-mesh strainer
A couple of bowls
A whisk

9 ounces of egg yolks
4 1/2 ounces of granulated sugar
vanilla extract to taste (or any other flavor you might want to use. This is the basic recipe.)
3 pounds of heavy cream

Preheat your oven to 325 degrees F.

Whisk the egg yolks and sugar together.

Whisk in the vanilla extract.

Whisk in the heavy cream.

Strain the mixture; remove any foam on top.

Distribute the mixture evenly among the 12 ramekins.

Place the ramekins in the metal cake pans - 6 in each. Leave space in between each ramekin and the sides of the pans.

Pour some warm water into the pans, and then have more warm water ready to pour.

Place the pans on the center rack in your oven. Pour more water into each pan until the water comes about half-way up the sides of the ramekins.

Close the oven and bake until firm. And in this case, firm means "set" but not "hard as a rock." When you shake the ramekin (gently), there should be a little jello-like wiggle in the center.

The length of cooking time will depend on your oven. Check them at 30 minutes, and then about every 10 minutes or so after that. The nice thing about baking things this way is it's a slow, gentle process. The only way to overcook them is to completely forget about them for a few hours.

Anyway, when they are done, CAREFULLY take the pans out of the oven and set them down. I say CAREFULLY because the water in those pans is hot and if you aren't CAREFUL, the water could slosh out and splash you and that would hurt and might cause you to drop the pan, in which case all the rest of the water would splash everywhere...and worse still, there would be 6 shattered ramekins with custard splattered everywhere that you'd have to clean up and throw out. This stuff is too good to waste like that, so, like I said, BE CAREFUL.

Remove the ramekins from the water bath (or bain marie, to trot out my culinary French), and allow to cool. When cooled, put them in the fridge for at least 4 hours, or overnight if you have time, until thoroughly chilled.

Before serving, take them out of the fridge and sprinkle some granulated sugar on the surface of each custard.

Now there are, like I said, a couple ways you can brulee them. One way is to put them under the broiler in your oven. If you're doing it this way, fire up the broiler and put the top rack about 6 inches below the broiler. Place the ramekins on a cookie sheet and slide them under the flames. You might want to just do a few at a time. Keep an eye on them - this isn't a recipe for blackened custard. You want to caramelize the sugar, so you want to watch for an amber/brown color. The color probably won't be even - it may look kind of blotchy. That's okay. Take them out before they burn! Hurry!

OR, if you want to have fun and play with fire, get a blow torch (they make little hand-held ones you can buy) and carefully move the flame back and forth over the sugar until it melts and browns. Keep the flame moving - sugar will burn quickly. This doesn't really take very long, and it certainly impresses people if they've never seen it done before. Fun party trick.

A few moments later, the sugar on top will harden and, voila! You did it! Your friends will be impressed as anything - and it was so easy!!!!

Have fun!

2003-05-21T06:05:00.000-04:00

Last night some friends came over and we had a small baby shower/get together for Julie, who is expecting her first baby next month. There were just 6 of us: Julie, Kerrie, Roxana, Kim, Blair, and me. No - make that 7 - Kim brought her daughter, Madison, who is 14 months old.

Madison and Alex got acquainted and played on and off most of the time. Madison is tall. She made Alex look small, which of course, at only 11 months old, he is. But compared to the little babies in the infant room at daycare, he's been looking big to me at times. But anyway, last night, he went back to being small.

Very different - girls and boys. (Astute observation, I know.) Alex likes to bang things - cupboard doors, toys against the floor... and Madison sat down and "read" a book. Alex likes to chew on books. Alex likes to tear pages from the phone book. But they both like to eat. And they crawled around, chasing each other and laughing at each other. It was great.

Back to the adults. We all know each other because we either work or have worked at the same place. Actually, Julie's the only one who left and didn't come back. Kerrie is her sister-in-law. And Kim and Roxana have been friends since they were kids. We're all at various places on the mommy spectrum: Rox has a son (11) and a daughter (7), Kerrie's son is 7, Blair's daughter is 5 (I think) and her son is 3...and then there are Kim and I who had our first babies last year...and now Julie.

Julie looks great. She arrived first and we were talking a bit about being pregnant...she said it's gone by fast and she's enjoyed it. But she's ready to have the baby. She's due next month. So exciting....

Everyone brought food, and we sat around in my dining room eating and talking and laughing. Eventually Alex started getting tired but was too wound up to go to sleep, so I brought him downstairs to Bill for a little while to calm down. Julie opened presents, protesting that she hadn't expected us to give her anything - this was just supposed to just be a visit...but the truth is, it's fun to shop for baby things. Little tiny clothes for little tiny people. Sizes Alex doesn't fit into any more...sizes he only fit in for a week or two...sizes so small he never would have fit in them unless he was born early.

And now it's another day. Feels like it should be later in the week than Wednesday.

Time to get ready for work.

2003-05-17T11:12:00.000-04:00

Saturday morning.

Alex woke up around 3:30 and wouldn't go back to sleep - who would with a diaper in need of such attention? I changed the diaper and got him a bottle and brought him into bed with us. He fell asleep and at some point rolled over onto his chest and knees, little bum up in the air, arms tucked under him...Bill was asleep on his half of the bed, and I think the cat was on the other side of him, though later on she moved over and slept near Alex's feet. I teetered on my edge of the bed until Alex woke up (always immediately alert and smiling) and crawled to the window to look out at his kingdom. This morning he kept pressing his lips against the glass, breathing, and then pulling away. I don't know if he just liked the feeling of the (very cold!) glass, or looking at the condensation his breath left, or what. Anyway, that was earlier.

Right now he is with Bill - on a beer-ingredient-getting mission. On Memorial Day John will be coming over and he and Bill will brew a red ale (I think) for consumption at the second annual clambake/cookout we'll have in July. They've got something else already made, too, either a lager or a pale ale. I've lost track. And he's also getting some of the ingredients for a raspberry stout. He made it last September for me, sort of. And it's very, very good. Especially after it's aged a while. So he'll make that some time soon and in the fall the flavors will have married and mellowed. Yum.

Anyway, so I've got the house to myself (and the cat) and I don't really feel like doing anything. I loaded a laundry basket with some whites and lights, and some hangers for the stuff that is already dry down in the basement and need ironing...but I haven't made it downstairs yet.

I'm also working this weekend. I've "got the phone" for work, which means I'm on call for any emergencies that pop up. Fun fun fun. Real emergencies are rare, but my stomach still clenches whenever I check the voicemail on it. Some people will call and leave messages that are not emergencies at all. They just happened to get someone's voicemail at the office and for whatever reason can't leave their message there - so they call the emergency number. And start off their message by saying "Well, this isn't really an emergency but I'm returning so and so's call from yesterday just to let her know I got her message and those dates are fine." Which is nice, because it's not an emergency, but still - there's the stomach-clenching feeling when you hear "you have one unheard message" no matter what.

I work for a moving company, by the way. My department handles corporate relocations. Three of us rotate the phone - the director and two managers. I'm one of the two managers. I took the phone in rotation even when I wasn't a manager. The pay is better now; I just have to learn to relax my stomach...

Anyway....

(...gee, this is a fascinating read, isn't it?)

I've been rereading Susan Powter's book Stop the Insanity. (Non sequitor, anyone?)

I was talking a week or two or three ago about trying to lose some weight, get in better shape again, eat better, and so on. And so what did I do? I bought several boxes of SlimFast bars for work and vowed to eat one for breakfast, one for lunch, and then "a sensible dinner." Only I was starving. So I'd eat one for breakfast, a snack, something terrible at lunch because I was HUNGRY, and then another bar in the afternoon. So that worked really well. And did nothing except make me feel horrible.

I've been drinking too much coffee lately, too. Need to cut back on that and drink more water. I bring a 64 oz bottle of icewater in to work with me, and it sits there on my desk, beads of water rolling off it and onto the dishtowel under it...and I drink the coffee. Or the iced coffee. So that's not doing me much good, either. The two plants I have at my desk have been drinking more of the water than I have. And they look great. So...

So the other night I picked up the Susan Powter book. I'd bought that when it came out, in 1993, partly because I was working for Barnes & Noble at the time and had a great discount, and partly because underneath the loudness and the crewcut, she makes sense. It really is simple - eat (the right stuff) and move. So far I'm halfway through the book. I've read it before, several times, so I'm kind of skimming along.

And I'm making progress, mentally, if nothing else. I called in to work (we have a couple people in the office on Saturday mornings) and asked one of my coworkers to toss out all the rest of the Slimfast bars in my desk. Fake food is not the answer. I should know better, but for a little while I thought - if I jumpstart things, and drop 5 or 10 pounds really fast, that'll get me motivated to do all the other stuff I should be doing anyway.

Of course that hasn't worked.

So, try, try again.

It just boils down to choices. I can eat anything I want - but whatever I eat will have an effect on how I look and feel. I can remain a mostly sedentary slug, or I can put my sneakers on and start moving on a regular basis. And running up and down the stairs with a laundry basket doesn't count.

So. Here I go...

2003-05-16T06:09:00.000-04:00

I'm not all that happy with my "Orange Juice and Water" post from the other day. I don't think I did a good job conveying just how torturous that evening was, and as a result, it looks like I'm really stretching just for the purpose of having something to write about. I think I come across as mean and snotty. It gives me the same little uncomfortable feeling I'd have as a kid if I'd done something I knew was wrong.

2003-05-15T05:58:00.000-04:00

Spring

Some things I like about spring:

Dogwood trees in bloom - especially the tree next door (Ann's tree), which is a showy pink just a shade or two shy of fuchia.

The smell of lilacs in bloom. We have a dwarf lilac and two "regular" lilacs. Our regular lilacs are very young, though, so the dwarf is actually bigger.

This spring - Alex exploring the world outside for the first time. Last night. Bill was putting the rest of the edging around one of the gardens in front of our house when I got home from work, and while I went inside to change, he put Alex down on the grass nearby and continued digging the trench for the edging. When I came back out, Alex was sitting there on the front lawn - a tiny little blond kid in blue sweat pants, a grey tee shirt, and white sneakers surrounded by mostly green. (Some is brown. We're working on it.) Our other neighbor, Shirley, was on her way out, but she had stopped to say hello to Alex, whom she hasn't seen in months.

After she left, Alex alternately walked or crawled everywhere he could...through the dirt my husband had dug up ("Look! He's helping!") and then along the side of the house and into the back yard. Along the way he'd stop and investigate little things...some dead grass (No, don't eat that), the branch of one of the Rose of Sharons that divides our property from Shirley's. He stood up and shook the little branch a few times, then continued on his way. I walked along beside him, barefoot, herding him a bit so he wouldn't decide to race-crawl into Shirley's back yard. He thought this was hysterical. He'd look at my feet, look up at me and laugh, and then crawl faster. He explored the back yard, and then crawled back to the front yard where Bill was finishing up. I took Alex inside, took off his muddy clothes and wiped the mud drool from his mouth.

Early this morning, lying in bed, I heard the birds singing...and on the monitor I heard Alex say "pa" - and that was it. Little practice words slip out when he is sleeping. I love that.

Gotta go. Time to wake everyone up.

2003-05-14T21:47:00.000-04:00

Orange Juice and Water

Last Friday when I got home from work, Alex in tow, I went downstairs where my husband and his brother (who arrived from Seattle earlier in the day) were hanging out, waiting for me to get home so we could all go out for sushi. (No, Alex didn't have any raw fish. But he had some miso soup, tofu, rice, a lemon wedge, baby food lasagne from a jar, and ice cream. And lots of waitresses smiled at him.)

Anyway, one of the first things Bill said to me was "Oh, by the way, someone's coming over here on Monday night." ("Oh, by the way" is usually not a good start to anything.) So, immediately suspicious and irritated at the pending intrusion, I asked who it was, and he told me someone was coming to run some tests on our water.

A few weeks ago we filled out a little postcard thing that offered us the chance to get a case of Tropicana orange juice. There was no fine print, no purchase necessary, nothing. So I filled out the card and sent it off. I figured maybe we'd be entered into a drawing or something. And after mailing it, I forgot about it.

So on Friday, someone called Bill referencing the case of Tropicana. But it was not anyone from Tropicana. It was someone from RainSoft - a company who, among other things, sells water purification systems for the home. The deal was, if we let one of their reps into the house to do some tests on the water, we could have the case of OJ. They said it wouldn't take any more than an hour. The rep would arrive between 6:00 and 6:30 Monday evening. They wanted both of us to be there.

And Bill said okay. Just some tests on the water. And he was kind of curious to see what the tests turned up, as knowing the levels of minerals and pH and toxins in our water is useful to him, both in brewing beer and in keeping fish alive in his 55 gallon tank.

They called on Sunday at some point to confirm the appointment.

And they called a few minutes after I got home from work on Monday - somewhere around 5:30 - probably to make sure we hadn't skipped town.

We fed Alex dinner, but figured we'd wait til after the tests to have ours. Just as Alex was eating his last couple of dessert Cheerios, a little after 6:00, there came a knock at the front door. Bill answered it and I sat there grumbling to myself.

The rep was a woman named Heidi. Bill led her into the dining room where I was wiping wet bits of cheerio from Alex's chin. We shook hands and she exclaimed over Alex for a moment.

Heidi was a narrow-shouldered woman with wide hair. She was about my height, but only because she was wearing black boots with about 4 inch heels and her hair was kind of tall, in addition to being wide. It was also very thickly highlighted and immobilized by some artificial means. She was very tan. She obviously has spent years in the sun.

And she had a very blinding, wide, lock-jaw smile. My face started to hurt part way through the evening, just seeing her smile. When she smiled, the look in her eyes would intensify and capture yours, willing you to agree with whatever she had just said. Her head would nod slightly, rapidly...like one of those bobble-head dolls people put in the back windows of their cars.

She carried a big black leather briefcase - twice the width of any briefcase I have ever seen. And a smaller metal case with all her vials of chemicals and her other props inside. She put the black bag on the kitchen floor, and placed her metal case on the counter near the sink.

We told her right off the bat that we were kind of puzzled by the need to have our water tested in order to get our juice, and she quickly assured us that we would get our case as promised. When we told her there was nothing on the tropicana card that linked them to a water purification system sales pitch, she just smiled her big fixed smile and shook her bobble head and said she didn't know anything about that. She also said she was in ADVERTISING. This wasn't a sales pitch. Oh. Yeah. Right.

First thing she wanted was some water from our hot water heater. I put Alex in his playpen in the kitchen so he could watch and maybe keep things interesting by throwing toys and saying "uh oh".... Bill brought Heidi downstairs and a minute or so later they came back up with a glass of slightly murky water. Heidi pointed out the few specks of sediment at the bottom of the glass and recommended we flush about 5 gallons from the water heater every year. Pure water heats more efficiently. We were to hear that word - "pure" - a lot.

Next thing she did was tell us the first test would be to check the pH level in our water. She started to explain what pH was and since we both know what pH is (Bill tests the pH in his fish tank on a regular basis), we nodded that way you nod when you want the person talking to skip that part and get to the next part. Bill even said, at some point in her lecture, "and pH increases exponentially, right?" (it does) - and she did one of those smiles again and bobbled her head...and continued until she had finished her scripted speech.

She did the pH test - our pH was 8.5, which is higher than desired - more alkaline...like drinking chalk, perhaps.

Her next test was for hardness. She ran some tap water into a vial, and then, with all the naturalness of a flight attendant pointing to the exits, she added a conditioner to the water - 5 drops. "One, two, three, four, five." Then she added another mystery liquid to the vial. She said the water in from our tap would turn red if the water was hard. (Of course, the stuff she added to it was red, but it turns out that didn't matter.) Anyway - 5 drops. "One, two, three, four, five." I suppose she counted along with the drops so we would know she wasn't sneaking an extra drop in there and skewing the test score. Then she pulled out a third vial and said she would add that liquid one drip at a time to our hard, red tap water, and the number of drips it took to turn the red water blue would tell us the harness of our water. Which sounds like a word problem...So she started. "one" - then swirled the vial to blend the liquids together. Still red. "two"...swirl swirl swirl...."three" swirl swirl - AHA! It turned blue. So our magic hardness number was 3. Which somehow worked out to mean that, if left uncorrected, the dissolved rock particles sneaking in through our tap would eventually form a solid chunk of rock in our sink. Good heavens! (There was much gravity of expression and concerned nodding of her head as she shared this with us.) And then she broke out her water filter. A cylinder about 8 inches long, about 2 inches in diameter, almost filled with black and gold particles. There was a rubber tube that went in one end of the cylinder and came out the other. One end had a larger rubber piece that gripped the faucet spout. She ran some water through her filter and showed us that her water was not hard at all. Know why? It's pure water. The charcoal (the black bits) and the resins (the gold bits) filtered out the rocks and left us with pure water that didn't turn red at all.

She tested for nitrates too, but had very little to say about that once our test score came in. Nitrates in your water are a result of animal feces and other happy things that your water may have encountered on its way into your rocky sink. Our nitrate level was very low, so no fun for her with that one.

I don't remember the order of the next bunch of tests.... She sent us on scavenger hunts - "I need a wash cloth, a towel, a mixing bowl, two clean glasses, and laundry detergent." Off we raced. My bowl won - it was bigger. But you know, I don't remember what she used it for.

She poured our tap water into two coffee mugs. She talked about the chlorine used by water companies to get rid of bacteria and other bad-for-you things in the water before it gets to your home. But she said that there is no need for there to be chlorine in the water once it's in our house. She poured something into one mug that would indicate whether there was chlorine present. There was. She had Bill stir the water in the other mug with his fingers for a couple of minutes. When he was done, she tested that water. No chlorine. His skin had absorbed it. Interesting.

She demonstrated how her PURE water needed only two drips of PURE detergent to get all nice and sudsy, and our evil tap water needed 10 drips. She made Bill shake up the vials of soapy water. "So whadday think???" She would say, after telling us that each drip represented a dollar's worth of laundry detergent and we were using 5 times as much of it because of our evil water than we would if we had some of her pure water. "Wouldn't we all like to save some money?" Smile, stare, bobble.

Then she looked at Alex (who was back in his high chair, eating cheerios and clapping when Bill shook the vials. And she said "Do you give him a bath?"

And that was the turning point. Do we give him a bath? No, we hose him off out back in the summer; in the winter we let the dirt harden and then chip it off with a nail file.

I gave her a look and said "Yes." She didn't say much, just basically told us that the ring around the tub after the bath was due to the bits and pieces of rock and junk in our evil water. I always thought it was the dirt we'd washed off him. But what she didn't say was that Alex's soft baby skin was soaking up all the chlorine, and we are basically poisoning him by allowing the evil water to touch him. She didn't say it, but it hung there above our heads. The seed was definitely planted and fertilized: You are BAD parents if you don't filter your water!!!

At that point I stopped listening politely and started looking up at the clock frequently, (45 minutes had gone by and she wasn't slowing down), smiling less, and silently cheering Alex on when he started getting a little fussy. He was tired. But I didn't want to put him to bed while she was there. I wanted him to disrupt her show. And no, my mother didn't raise me to be rude. I took it upon myself.

"Can you get some butter?" I stomped grumpily to the fridge. She had me smear butter on the microwave and wash half of it off with my dishwashing liquid and evil water. Then she washed the other half with her PURE water and a paper towel. Big surprise, there was no difference. All the butter was gone. She was very proud of that one. PURE water is a natural solvent.

And then she made me wash my hands. With Ivory soap, which, in case you didn't know, is PURE soap. (I think it's 99 44/100 % pure, according to the package...something like that) Anyway, she rinsed one of my hands off with her PURE water. She told me to fold my fingers down across my palm and slide them back, from the heel of my hand toward the base of my fingers...how did it feel? "Slimy" I told her. She glared a smile and said those were the natural oils of my skin. Her PURE water allowed them to remain. My other hand was rinsed, of course, in our EVIL tap water. Did the finger slide test...slippery, but not slimy. She said that's because all the oils were stripped away by the rocks and other bad stuff in the water. As it dried my hand would begin to feel tight. She dried my hands off with a towel and asked how they felt. "Wet" I told her. She clenched her smile face and told me they would dry, and my left hand, rinsed in PURE water, would feel silky smooth, like I'd just used a luxurious lotion on it. (I don't use luxurious lotions. They make me sneeze. I use Luxurious Unscented Lubriderm.) The other hand would turn to dust and fall off eventually. She asked me to smell the PURE hand. Sniff. What did I smell? Soap. Now smell the other. Sniff. What did I smell? Soap. An alarm sounded somewhere in her head. WRONG ANSWER! WRONG ANSWER! ALERT ALERT ALERT! She asked, still smiling, if one had a stronger soap smell than the other. Sniff. Sniff. Nope. And she had no response to that. She just smiled, stared, and bobbled her head at me.

About that time I was thinking to myself, Heidi, you have just spent over an hour telling us we have bad, evil, rocky, poisonous water. And that you have PURE and VIRTUOUS water. We are drinking and absorbing and exposing our baby to all sorts of chemicals and dangerous minerals because we don't use a filter like you do to get your PURE water. And yet, Heidi, you smoke. (I could smell it on her breath while she was washing, rinsing, drying, fluffing and folding my hands.) For one thing, if you're going to pitch healthy stuff to people, suck on a breath mint first. Second, have you been checked for cancerous moles? Or have all the years and years in the sun rendered your skin too leathery for moles to grow?

Soon after that she wound up her show with story hour - she showed us pictures in a ring binder of the good environment 50 years ago and the bad environment of today (someone colored the sky with a gray crayon). And there were charts and graphs and cost comparisons of cleaning product usage when you had EVIL water vs. cleaning product usage when you had PURE water. (Hm...wonder which situation costs you more?)

And finally Bill asked how much longer she was going to be, because it had already been over an hour. No offense to her, but we were annoyed that in order to get orange juice we had to listen to her sales pitch. She asked us just to fill out a little survey and she'd clean up her props. Then she asked if she could use our phone. And we let her. (Dummies) And she called in to "Charlie" to tell him "no, the Makers aren't interesed in fixing their water tonight." Guilt trip. Guilt trip. Guilt trip.

She packed up her things and left. Bill went out to her SUV and came back into the house carrying a case of 10 oz bottle of Tropicana orange juice and saying, over and over "I'm sorry. I am so sorry. Jayne, I am so sorry. Do you want me to get you some ice cream? I am so sorry. I will never do that again. Want me to go out and get you a really nice dinner somewhere and bring it back? I am so sorry."

I enjoyed that part. He did that for a while, then, "Do you want some orange juice?" NO!

We put Alex to bed and then sat downstairs and rehashed the entire experience. The tests themselves were interesting and have given us things to think about. (I decided not to take a bath that night, for example, though I have been wanting a nice long soak in the tub for a while.) It boiled down to two things. First - the fact that we had to listen to the sales pitch to get our orange juice. (I know, we could have said no when they called. But...wait....I wasn't home when they called....) And second - Heidi. She was nice enough, but she had clearly memorized her script but didn't know the subtext well enough to improvise when she should have. She could have skipped the whole pH thing. She also could have picked up on our diminishing patience and maybe skipped a test or demo and cut the pitch short. And it wasn't just memorized - it was choreographed. At one point when we were on the subject of the ring around the bath tub, she actually did a plie' and waved her hand as though gracefully wiping away grime and rocky build-up from inside the invisible tub in our kitchen. Honest.

Okay, I'm done complaining about it. I am tired. Perhaps it's all the rocks I've been drinking.

Good night.

2003-05-11T05:38:00.000-04:00

Mother's Day

Just a quick post for now - I wanted to wish a Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there...but especially to mine, Janice, and to my sister, Meredith, to my sisters-in-law, Nina and Diane, and to the memory of my mother-in-law, Elsa, who passed away in November, and to my Aunt Joan, to my godmother, Aunt Audrey, and to the memories also of my grandmothers, Emma Jane and Audrey Marie...and to all my friends who are moms, or moms-to-be...

Today we've got people coming here for brunch: my parents, my sister and her kids (my brother-in-law has to work), my husband's two brothers, who both happen to be here from out of state, and possibly one sister in law, if her back isn't bothering her too much this morning. And of course, my husband and Alex. And me.

Had shrimp, lobster, and corn on the cob last night with Bill and his brothers - Ray and Bob. Ray is here from Seattle, Bob is up from Florida. They're here because they/we are finishing up the sorting through of furniture and so forth from their mom's house. The remaining furniture (that none of them take) will be sold, and so will the house. As Bill pointed out, it's a weird coincidence that the one weekend Ray's and Bob's trips overlap is this particular weekend.

It's a bittersweet reunion. But last night was fun, and later this morning will be fun too.

Gotta go - lots to do!

2003-05-09T20:28:00.000-04:00

Alex

Well, hey, this is news - Alex has been taking his first steps. Usually when he's not thinking about doing it. The first steps he took were (big surprise here) in pursuit of the cat.

All his firsts have been cat-related.

His main motivation to crawl was to try to catch the cat.

His first intentional word(s): kitty cat (or teeteeta)

And now - the first couple of steps.

We were downstairs. I was sitting on the floor, he was standing near me holding onto a big rattle kind of thing shaped like a barbell with rings around the middle...and chewing on it. And then the cat came into view - maybe she hopped up onto the arm of the couch - I don't really remember. But I do remember Alex - both hands clutching the rattle, eyes on the cat, first one step, then another. He stopped then because the cat went off in another direction suddenly. But that was the beginning.

One of the women at daycare told me they're betting on which kid in Alex's class will officially walk next. He's ahead of some kids who are older than he is. I think most bets are on Alex.

And just a few minutes ago he took about a dozen steps across the living room. He was holding his bottle and staring at the tv. (Bill and Ray were also staring at the TV...they were watching something on the travel channel about top ten places to get a tan...the place at the moment was Waikiki, and of course there were bikini-clad chicks with perfect bodies, perfect tans, perfect smiles...laughing and riding around on a catamaran and getting splashed, shriek shriek shriek...)

Anyway, those twelve were the most steps Alex took to date. He's asleep now, probably worn out from his day. Daycare's not for the wimpy either...another kid bit him today (didn't break the skin but it left a mark), and he wacked his face on something there too - there's a faint bruise on his right cheekbone...but he will get banged up and bumped and bitten...in the wilds of childhood.

OH - and I got my very first official Mother's Day gift/card today. Last year didn't count - I was still pregnant on Mother's Day. This year is the first. And from Alex (and daycare) I got a purple sheet of paper with Alex's white handprints on the top, and a poem below.

Here's the poem:

Sometimes you get discouraged
Because I am so small
And always leave my fingerprints
On furniture and walls.

But Everyday I'm growing
I'll be grown up someday
And all those tiny handprints
Will surely fade away.

So here's a final handprint
Just so you can recall
Exactly how my fingers looked
When I was very small.

Definitely calculated to make the tears well up...and yes, it worked on me. But I don't care. It's true...he won't have these tiny little pudgy hands forever...and I'm glad they made this at daycare for me.

I have to get a box to store all these things in. A scrapbook is out - I will never keep up with it. A box would be fine, as long as I remember to write the date on things...

He's almost a year old...wow. Yes, it's true - it does go by fast. I'm excited about each new development, each milestone...but at the same time, I want to linger here...I want him to keep crawling for a while longer...and leave little handprints everywhere....

2003-05-09T20:04:00.000-04:00

I guess it's been a while...

I've been busy, lots going on. I'll write more later - maybe tomorrow morning if I can get up early enough.

Went out tonight for sushi - Bill and I, Alex, and Bill's brother, Ray, who is here from Seattle for the weekend. Alex enjoyed some miso soup, a tiny piece of tofu, some baby food I brought with us, a piece of lemon (yes), and some ice cream. The other three of us feasted on sushi, sashimi, maki rolls, and fried oysters with a horseradish sauce(an appetizer tonight). Yum. Haven't been out for sushi in quite a while.

My first date with Bill was for sushi. I should write about that as well some time.

What else...

Oh, who am I kidding? My eyes want to close, and I should really go hang out with Bill and Ray and Alex. So - until tomorrow morning or some time soon....good night.

2003-04-30T20:16:00.000-04:00

Aha. So that's how you fix that. Phew!

2003-04-28T21:14:00.000-04:00

I'm having archive problems. Half of them are gone...

2003-04-28T19:17:00.000-04:00

Cool Change (again)

First off - I don't dislike the song. (I had written about it in one of my posts yesterday). I like Little River Band, and I like that song. I was just over-thinking a few lines in the song.

And second, while I was washing baby bottles and listening to Alex make outboard motor sounds, it occurred to me that maybe the lines in question aren't really interconnected, as I originally thought they were supposed to be.

For instance -

I've never been romantic (just a general statement of fact)
And sometimes I don't care (about stuff that maybe I should care about)
I know it may sound selfish (and therefore not so appealing, like my previously mentioned traits)
But let me breathe the air (well...because it's there for all of us and despite my seemingly prickly personality, I have the right to breathe, dammit)

Anyway, that was the thought for this evening. The thought regarding that song, anyway. I have had a few other thoughts too in the last couple of hours. I plan to have at least one more before I go to bed.

2003-04-27T09:57:00.000-04:00

Whole Wheat Linguine with Leeks and Mushrooms

I made this the other night...

Trimmed and chopped a couple of big leeks and let them sit in a bowl of cold water for a while to clean off any dirt.

Poured some olive oil and some butter in a pan and when the butter melted I added the leeks and also a package of sliced mushrooms. Covered the pan to sweat them a bit.

Filled a pot with water and started bringing that to a boil...

Took the cover off the leeks and mushrooms, added some salt and pepper and a sprinkling of flour (to thicken the juices, eventually) and poured some sherry into it. Cooked that for a little while, then added about 2 cups of chicken stock. Kept it bubbling.

When the water came to a boil, I added some salt and a package of whole wheat linguine. (You could use any shape pasta you like. I will just insist that you use whole wheat. It has a great texture and flavor.)

When the liquid had reduced somewhat in the pan of leeks and mushrooms, I lowered the heat just to keep it at a very low simmer. When the pasta was done, I drizzled a VERY little bit of cream into the leeks and mushroom mixture.

Drained the pasta, put some in a couple of bowls for Bill and I, and spooned some of the leek/mushroom mixture over the top. Grated a little parmesan onto that, and ta-da - dinner.

2003-04-27T09:42:00.000-04:00

Ordinary Lips

Early this morning when I couldn't get into blogger to type all my tidbits of wisdom (HA!), I was looking things up online, here and there - actually I think I was shopping for shoes...And while I was clicking here and there, my computer froze up. So I had to restart it - and as I did that, naturally everything became unfrozen, and the page I wanted opened up briefly, and with it a pop-up screen that caught my attention - and was gone before I could check it out further.

The little square screen had a profile shot of some woman's big red pursed lips. And the caption, big (like the lips) to the left, said this:

KISS YOUR THIN ORDINARY LIPS GOODBYE

Aaak! Then there was a little button you could click on to find out how to KISS YOUR THIN ORDINARY LIPS GOODBYE (as the lip model in the picture had apparently done, or was doing) - but then everything closed down and it was gone.

And it's not something I plan to investigate.

But I have since gone to look at my own lips in the mirror in the "downstairs" bathroom. (It has the best lighting.)

And my lips look, well, ordinary. Thinner than some, not as thin as others. They look pale right now because there is nothing on them. There should be some moisturizer on them, actually, because they are kind of dry and chapped from blowing my nose eight hundred times a day these past several weeks.

But they do look ordinary. I'm not sure that I want them to look otherwise. This is my face. This is what it looks like, and I think if I made any drastic changes to it, I would no longer look like me. I'd do double-takes every morning. Who is she, with the big fat out-of-the ordinary lips? Oh, that's right.

I've always thought of myself as pretty insecure and self-conscious. I have spent years feeling ugly, in fact. But I have never wanted to have anyone cut my face or inject anything into me anywhere to change what I looked like.

And if I did consider slicing and dicing, or injections of any kind, my face, even on my worst days, would not be the place I'd start.

But I think, even, also, on my worst days, that for me, no amount of Barbie-izing would change the way I feel - or felt - when looking in the mirror. Because what I'm seeing has nothing to do with what I look like. It's all (of course) coming from what I'm thinking of myself at that moment. I could look like (insert most beautiful woman in the world in your opinion here) and still, if I'm down in a pit mentally and emotionally and psychologically - I will still think I'm ugly. I figure that's true for most of us, at one time or another.

I still do it. I have really horrible, miserable, crappy times and I hate myself. At that moment. Nothing changes it. Being married doesn't change that. Having a child doesn't change that. Earning a decent paycheck, living in a nice (if cluttered) house doesn't change that. It's all within me. I've lightened up on myself considerably over the years, but it still comes back. I just fight it better than I used to. I don't say all the horrible things to myself that I used to. Not all of them. I pull out of it faster. But. It's still there.

I've been going through a rollercoaster of emotion over the last couple of weeks. Much of it due, I'm sure, to the miscarriage. And the fact that I've been sick all month. (I've got a sinus infection now, and I'm on an antibiotic for THREE WEEKS!!! I'm sick of being sick.) I think some if it's also now due to the hormonal paddleball competition going on inside of me as my body realizes it's not pregnant.

I've been a waterfall some days. The littlest things have sent the tears gushing. Big things, understandable things, too, like the miscarriage, of course, will do it, too. But the amount of crying is over the top, I think. Even for me, and I cry easily.

I've been having periods of depression too. I've always had those. Less so in recent years, but they do not go away completely either. And mornings have been the worst. I just cry and cry and can't pinpoint what has set me off. (Again - probably the cocktail of miscarriage sadness, sinus infection, and hormonal upheaval). I don't remember being this way with the other miscarriage. Not sure why I'm like this now.

My doctor's office called on Thursday to set up a schedule of blood work. They want to monitor my hormone levels to make sure they return to a non-pregnant level. I think, judging by how I've been feeling, they are doing that. Loudly.

But when the nurse was telling me this on the phone, it just seemed like too much. I already felt lousy, I have already taken enough time (in my opinion) out of work because of this, I have a baby and a husband and a cluttery house and grocery shopping to do and laundry and I just don't feel like revisiting the miscarriage any more. I don't want to have any more needles taking blood from me for a while either.

I am fixated on the blood. Don't know why. Maybe it's the D&C and its aftermath. But on Thursday, when I got that call, I felt like growling and snarling and snapping at the poor nurse. Get away - you've taken enough blood from me. That's the irrational feeling that keeps resurfacing. Totally irrational. They aren't leeches, or vampires. I guess something's stuck in me - some synapse is misfiring right now - and I can't get out of that thought pattern. It's like a broken record, and I'm having a hard time moving on to the next song.

But I'm getting there.

And I'm trying to take a break - physically, but especially mentally - from trying to have another baby. I think this was too soon. I need to take some better care of me for a while.

So, back to the unrealistic expectations - I've been perusing back issues of Shape magazine, planning to "Have a Bikini Body by June!" and other such fairy tales...(I've never had a bikini body. Don't think I'd know what to do with it if I ever reached that pinnacle of Barbie-hood...) But they do have some good recipes now and then, and that's really my first step toward taking better care of me. I need to get back to eating better. (This sinus infection is helping tremendously - I can't really taste anything, so I have no desire to eat anything yummy that's bad for me. There would be no fun in it.) And I will go back to doing yoga. I miss that. And Pilates. I had started that a few months after Alex was born and didn't stick with it when I went back to work because it was such an adjustment and I could only juggle a few chainsaws at a time...) But it felt good and made me feel good.

But that's the plan. I doubt I'll have a bikini body by June. Certainly not this June, anyway. I don't really expect to have one ever. But there's that little "yeah, but what if?" in the back of my mind. It sounds like a giggle. So who knows.

And yeah, what if? Nothing would really change, except I'd have to buy all new clothes (oh darn)...I'd still have ugly days in the mirror.

Unless I kissed my thin ordinary lips goodbye....

2003-04-27T08:02:00.000-04:00

For some reason this song has been going through my head this morning. One section of it. Four lines, actually. And they are:

I've never been romantic
And sometimes I don't care
I know it may sound selfish
But let me breathe the air

I don't get it.

And for whatever reason (probably lack of sleep, earlier this morning) I had it in my head that Christopher Cross had done that song (probably getting it mixed up with "Sailing" or something...). Anyway, just to make sure I had the lyrics right in my mind, I looked it up. (I also did that because after my initial post very early this morning, I couldn't get back into blogger, so I couldn't say all the stuff I had planned to say while Alex was sleeping. Now he's awake, so I have to type fast.)

Anyway, so I stand corrected - this was done by Little River Band, not Christopher Cross. And I like Little River Band. So I was somewhat dismayed when I learned that they had written this. (Because I'm not a huge Chris Cross fan, and so I wanted to be able to poke fun at him, or whoever wrote the lyrics to the song.)

BUT NO MATTER - whoever wrote those lines - I don't get it. And so those four lines are playing themselves over and over in my head as I try to figure out what not being romantic has to do with being able to breathe the air. It's not selfish at all to want to breathe. But it's got nothing to do - that I can see - with being romantic. If it does, or if I'm just not "getting" it, please, anyone one of the handful of people who actually read this blog, please enlighten me.

So anyway. That is one of the things I wanted to say this morning. It's not huge. It has no impact on world events, or even local events. I probably won't even discuss it with my husband when he gets home because he's probably not a fan of either Chris Cross or the Little River Band and wouldn't care either way because he's less interested in the lyrics and more interested in the music itself.

He does, however, like to spend time on the water, so maybe I could use that as the hook....

...No pun intended, but I'm kind of happy that I wrote it that way.

2003-04-27T03:55:00.000-04:00

Good (yawn) morning...yes, another early fishing trip. The egg and cheese (I originally wrote "sheese") sandwich is made, coffee is brewing, I hear water running in the bathroom upstairs, so Bill is up...his lunch (tuna sandwich, banana, cool ranch Doritos, and some girl scout cookies) is packed...he loaded the car last night. He's meeting his friend Steve somewhere and they'll ride the rest of the way in Steve's car. Going to somewhere in Massachusetts.

Bill joined a fishing club this year. His friend Steve had joined last year and really wanted Bill to join. Bill wasn't sure if he wanted to. But he has joined for the year, and we'll see what happens next. He did it mostly because Steve is his friend and a nice guy.

I'm going back to bed now. See you later....

2003-04-26T11:07:00.000-04:00

Alex has just woken up from his morning nap. I'm listening to him on the baby monitor as I finish up the dishes...he is shaking the crib...but not out of impatience - it's fun.

I think he feels powerful.

I hear him breathing...have no idea what he's doing, but he sounds very focused.

Occasional babble...oh, now I hear his music box.

He can turn that on and off by himself... okay, now he's had enough of solitary play...he's starting to sound annoyed.

Could be because the batteries are low in the music box, too...and the lights aren't as bright.

He's quiet now...nope, he's definitely had enough.

Okay, time to go. I will write more later...I have stuff to say and I think I will have some uninterrupted time this afternoon. Perhaps at afternoon nap time...we'll see....

2003-04-21T15:47:00.000-04:00

Home Today

I took today off. I needed to rest. I had that nap on Thursday, and that's been it. And my husband has been sick with a sore throat since Friday night, and like I mentioned yesterday, Alex has an ear infection. And a cold. He's been up a couple of times each of the past several nights, and therefore, so have I. So I took Alex to daycare and came home, had tea and toast, took a hot shower, and then took a nap. Woke up to someone banging on the front door. I ignored whoever it was. I'm not here!!!

And then I got up around noon, had something to eat, and realized that part of what has been making me feel tired and out of sorts is all the clutter everywhere I look. (Except for the "main" living room. We rarely use it. The last time anyone was in there for more than a few minutes was when Bill's guitar ensemble students were here - they practice in there. Which is probably why the room is so tidy at the moment.)

So anyway - I put away the clean laundry and brought the rest of the dirty stuff downstairs (Bill had done a bunch of it over the weekend). I folded the stuff in the dryer. I put more stuff away. I put all Alex's clean bottles and things away (we're back in the kitchen now), and the clean dishes in the dishwasher, and washed most of what was in the sink from this morning and yesterday. I brought down three piles of books that have been sitting in the upstairs hall collecting dust for probably a year. They are now on a bookcase in the living room. Not organized, but at least off the floor. Opened all the windows upstairs. Brought a bunch of coats downstairs and hung them back in the closet by the front door. That's where they came from. They've been upstairs since the end of November, when we needed to use the closet for other peoples' coats...

And what else...straightened the slipcover on the downstairs couch. (It's one of those "Surefit" slipcovers - and it sure doesn't fit. It's loose, and supposedly this problem is solved by tucking in the excess slipcover material "just like you normally do" (that's what they said in the catalog. But until I bought this thing, my experience has been that slipcovers actually FIT.) So anyway, for the moment, it's tucked in and looks like it fits. Until someone sits on it.) Put new pillowcases on the two pillows that are on the couch. Decided that when I go get Alex in a little while, I will also go somewhere and get little bins or something for his toys. I don't care if he pulls them all out - I just want a place to toss them when he goes to bed.

Um...well, it seemed like a lot while I was doing it. I'll have more laundry to do. And I'm making chicken soup for dinner tonight - we could all use some, I think.

Tomorrow I'll do the "big" grocery shopping trip. So I've started that list.

And I look around at all the other things we just haven't gotten around to since we moved in...or since Alex was born. Or since...??? I don't know. I have projects that pre-date electricity, I think. But hey, at least my house looks a little better. And I feel better for it.

So that's my post for today. I don't think I'll have a chance to write more today. I will be playing with my son, and folding, and ironing, and cooking, and maybe throwing some clutter OUT... all those things that, if I really think about it, are the things that make me feel planted. Centered. Connected. Not all the things...but some of them.

There's a verse from Fiddler on the Roof, in the opening song - "Tradition" that I like - it's the wives, or mamas, singing:

"Who must know the way to make a proper home,
a quiet home,
a kosher home?
Who must raise a family and run the home,
so Papa's free to read the Holy Book?"

Of course, in our home, Bill's holy book would be anything by Charlie Papazian, home-brewing guru...

But the rest of it (okay, I'm not Jewish, we don't keep kosher, so I guess we have to cross that line out too), appeals to me. I guess the line it boils down to is "a quiet home." To me, that means peaceful. It means welcoming, it means comfortable. It means a sanctuary, it means a haven. It means an invisible, all-encompassing embrace. So okay, I suppose I didn't need to trot out the whole verse. But too bad. I did.

Gotta run now. Time to go pick up Alex.

2003-04-20T12:57:00.000-04:00

Happy Easter!

Happy colored eggs and bunny rabbit day to all...

Don't have much time to type (I think I'm going to have to start getting up at 4 in the morning again to accomplish this with any regularity...) - we are going to my sister's house for dinner this afternoon, and in a moment I have to put Alex in his little dressed-up-boy Easter outfit, me in something better than jeans and a tee shirt, and Bill, also in something more dressed up. I have a light blue dress that I might wear, but it's not too good for sitting on the floor with a baby...

Speaking of a baby - mine has another ear infection, he's teething, and he has a cold. He's not too happy, and not too cooperative, judging from the "Alex, no...no...Alex, no" that I hear coming from downstairs. Now he's crying. He is overtired, but he doesn't want to take a nap. He just wants to bang stuff and grab stuff and fling himself backwards if anyone picks him up. I hear "ssshhh" and softer crying - Bill has picked him up and there is peace for now. I think the half hour car ride will help too.

I made a lemon cheesecake for dessert...if it turns out good I'll post the recipe. No reason why it shouldn't be good - it's from the most recent copy of Cook's Illustrated magazine, and I have yet to be dissatisfied with any of their recipes. There's a layer of lemon curd on top of the cheesecake - yum. Love that.

Okay, have to go. We need to leave in half an hour or so.

Oh - and Bill took Alex outside earlier, while I was in the shower, and he swears Alex said "tulip" several times. Of course, he refused to say anything remotely like tulip once he was inside....

2003-04-18T13:25:00.000-04:00

Thursday

I just didn't feel like typing any more yesterday. I had made lots of mental notes at the hospital, planning to come back after everything and write about it all...but I just don't feel like it.

So these are just my "notes" -

We left the house by 5:30 in the morning. It was dark and chilly out, and reminded me, in a way, of family trips to New Jersey to visit my mom's parents before they moved up to RI. We always left the house in the middle of the night, it seemed. Always dark out, always stars up above, and there was always an undercurrent of excitement humming below our sleepiness.

Alex babbled the whole way down to my parents' house - he fell asleep about 3 minutes before we arrived there to drop him off.

(didn't publish this until now - the 20th...)

There were more mental notes, but I have run out of desire to chronicle Thursday morning. I'm closing that door and moving on...

2003-04-17T14:07:00.000-04:00

GRRRRR...I had just typed a bunch of stuff about this morning, and then my left pinkie hit something over there on the keyboard, and now it's all gone. I don't know what I did, but it wasn't anything I WANTED to do. Maybe I'm hungry. I haven't had anything today since two slices of toast after I came out of the anaesthetic this morning. (It was the best meal I ever had...). So maybe I'll go eat something and try this again later.

But I am fine. Things went without a hitch this morning, and I came home and took a nap for over two hours. Right now my husband and son are asleep on the couch downstairs. They look so beautiful.

I will write later. Thanks to all of you who have been thinking about me - it means so much.

2003-04-16T18:04:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow

I have to be at the hospital tomorrow morning by 6:30. I can't eat or drink anything after midnight tonight. I must not wear makeup or perfume or jewelry, except my wedding band and engagement ring (it would be a struggle to pull either one off anyway), I must not bring any valuables, I must have a ride to and from the hospital...I must probably sign paperwork, give them some blood to run tests on, remove my clothes, don a hospital johnnie, submit quietly while they attempt to put in an IV needle (it often takes them a few tries, and both of my hands), and doze off under the bright OR lights, and wake up, slowly, warm under all the hospital blankets, with all the other post-op folk, in a long room, slowly rising back to the surface, aware of what has happened, sad that it had to happen, and glad the "procedure" is over. At some point they will wheel me back to the little room I started in. My husband will be fetched from the waiting room. They will bring me into the bathroom and help clean me up. I will be brought back to the bed, and offered toast and a beverage. When they feel confident that I can walk under my own power, I will be allowed to put my own clothes back on and leave the hospital.

I have done this before. I know what to expect. I remember with my other miscarriage, waking up from the anaesthesia crying. The nurse asked why I was crying, and I told her: Because I'm sad.

Yes. I am sad.

I have pushed that down, out of the way this past week or so. I have been casual, matter-of-fact...calm. And on some levels I am those things. But buried beneath that, working its way back to the top, is sadness. I would have been twelve weeks along this Friday. The first trimester just about finished. Most of the danger of miscarriage past.

And even though I've been through a D&C before, and it's a pretty routine procedure, I am edgy and tense about it today. I left work a couple hours early. Not enough to do there, too much time to think.

I just don't want to go. I don't want this done to me. I don't want to be knocked out. I am a tiny bit scared.

And I am sad.

2003-04-15T18:35:00.000-04:00

This and That

The peas are starting to come up in the garden. And there are buds on some of the tulips...and a hyacinth started blooming yesterday...and it was in the 70's today - never mind spring, we just jumped into summer. I guess it's supposed to get colder again, so that was just a preview.

I have friends who love summer, friends who hate summer. I don't hate any of it. I'll complain, at times, about whatever season I'm in and long the one opposite it...but I do that all year long...and I think what I really like the most is not any one particular season over the others - I like the change. I like the fact that where I live, we have 4 seasons. We have different weather conditions throughout the year. I don't think I'd be happy living someplace that the weather is the same year round. I love the changes.

We're getting a new trailer for the boat. Actually, Bill put a down payment on one today. The one we have is rusting and falling apart - a spring popped on it last fall when Bill and my father were taking the boat out of the water...so we need a new one. Need a new boat, eventually, but not this year.

Okay, thought I could write more but no, Alex is done with his bottle and requesting my presence in the other room....

2003-04-12T13:28:00.000-04:00

Trout for Lunch

Pretty simple - all I did was this:

Heat some oil in a pan - about a quarter of an inch or so.

While it is warming up, mix about two parts flour to one part cornmeal in a bowl. Add some salt and pepper. If you want to season it more than this, go right ahead.

Pat the filets dry with some paper towel. Dredge each filet in the flour mixture and place on a clean, dry plate.

When the oil is hot (it sizzles immediately when you flick some water into it), place a few filets in the pan. Watch out for the splattering.

When the edges start to look opaque, turn the filets over and finish cooking. They should be a pale golden brown on each side.

Remove the filets and place on paper towels on another plate. Keep the plate and fish warm in your oven (on very low heat - about 200 degrees. You don't want to dry out the fish.)

Repeat the frying with the rest of the fish.

Serve with tartar sauce, lemon wedges, hot sauce, or whatever you like on your fish.

You can also serve other things with this, like rice or fries or potato salad, but there's also something kind of cool and fun about just having the fish by itself. Especially when it was caught just a few hours earlier.

We gave Alex some little bits of fish (double-checking for bones, first) and he loves it. He had already had his lunch, his fruit for dessert, a teething cookie, and a few Cheerios. But after the first little taste of fish, he wanted more. And more. He liked it with tartar sauce, and also with the lemon. He can try hot sauce a bit later on in his life.

Anyway - we had a very nice lunch. And there's more fish in the fridge.