a day to play

My previous 'time for mom' plans for today fell by the wayside when O spent the better part of last night crying from pain because his hip was hurting him. Off to the doctor's we went first thing. We came away with an order for bloodwork and an xray of said hip.

I am not a fan of bloodwork. I'm not a fan of needles anywhere in close proximity to my body. O put me to shame with his fascination as the needle went in and the tube filled with blood. "That's cool," he said. I was looking pointedly in the other direction.

Next stop was the xray. He actually giggled as the tech moved him into position; he is unbelievably ticklish. My whirling dervish son was remarkably still for the whole procedure. Again, very impressive.

We thought about eating at UCSF. In the end, blueberry muffins in the comfort of home won out. We played Wii games. We hugged. We watched old school Scooby Doo (there can be no other) off On Demand. I managed a conference call in between. It was beautiful out, and I opened windows to let the late spring air filter in. We laughed a lot, especially while playing a port of Super Mario Bros. 3. Clearly the reflexes have diminished greatly since 1988.

On the face of it, there was nothing memorable about today. No epoch-making moments. No revelations. But I'd like to think that our slower pace aggregates into a single memory of what our relationship was at this specific time.

footnote: all is well. a mild inflammation of the joint from a leftover viral infection that will go away in about a week. motrin at night and rest will cure. I am grateful. health is something we do not take for granted. 

what I'm reading now, and what I need to read.

The book stack is piling up again. I've got to get through the library books first:

• The Lacuna/Barbara Kingsolver: a rich, dense read. I'm going through it at a slower pace than usual because it's meant to be read at a leisurely place. Not speed reading beach fare at all. 

• Chronic City/Jonathan Lethem: several years ago I read 'The Fortress of Solitude' and dug it. It was my Chicago brown line reading for a while. I like his characters. I like that NYC is his setting. 

• Remarkable Creatures/Tracy Chevalier: on a whim. She's the author of 'Girl with a Pearl Earring', which was a perfect little novel, even though I usually don't like the 'mix fiction with reality' genre too often.

• Solar/Ian McEwan: I love his stuff and this one's on the hold shelf waiting for me. Picking it up is on the weekend to-do list.

and then the books that I need to read next that are hanging out in a reproachful manner on the bookshelf:

• The Lonely Polygamist/Brady Udall: the title says it all.

• The Wild Things/Dave Eggers: I'm willing to give this a shot. It's Dave Eggers, after all.

• The City & The City/China Mieville: interesting sci-fi more in the vein of Philip K. Dick than the robots run amuck stuff.

I'm hoping to wrap this all up by July. For the 4th of July Tahoe trip, it's going to be the new Anthony Bourdain book, which I've pre-ordered. Natch.

hmm. do we like this new template?

jury's out. It's a little girly for my taste, but I was ready for a change. Let's give it a week to see if it grows on me.

last day of school

Little Miss Z wrapped up her first year of kindergarten today. It sounded as though she had a very unstructured day, and rightly so. Her afterschool program had a barbecue and, to my delight, she tried everything. Except the hot dogs. Apparently they were too burnt. For the record, they probably weren't, maybe some charred specks here and there. But even one grayish charred speck damns the hot dog to an uneaten eternity.

She was able to accomplish a lot this year. She painted this butterfly for a project - a quilt made up of butterflies and various fabric squares for the school auction in the spring. Unfortunately, I didn't get to see it in person, but the mom who won it took photos of all the squares for us. She's becoming a better reader. Her artwork is stunning. She worked in the school garden and knows more about compost and worm farms than I do. She is learning to be responsible and respectful - as I like to put it, a good citizen of the world.

I learned a lot in kindergarten, too. I was lucky to witness a group of genuinely sweet and caring five and six year olds grow together. I met some fantastic, down to earth, no drama parents and am looking forward to spending the next five years with them in supporting our kids and the school. I saw the amazing efforts of a first-time principal who is dedicated to moving forward, not dwelling on past or present. I marveled at how skilled the k teachers were in corralling those kids and directing their energy positively.

Summer vacation is really not that long this year. Z starts first grade on August 16, not even three months away. She's eagerly awaiting zoo camp and the Y summer break camp. There's a trip to Tahoe over the 4th of July weekend. Plenty of ice cream and popsicles that require eating. Forlorn plots around the house that are crying for some kind of plant life; we'll experiment. Movies to watch, snails to examine, seasonal fruit to eat, Giants' games to attend, ribbons in swim school to get. And then we start our first grade year with eyes wide open, happy to be learning and being with old and new friends.

the catch-up and current events

It's been a while since my mind has been clear enough to post. Work was a priority - one massive project after another. One more deadline this Friday and no - I repeat, no - deadlines next week. I'm trying to line up some interviews for potential new staff. I need to trek to a few art stores to source portfolios to hold our collateral (oh, twist my arm). So, fun projects lay in the horizon to break up the routine.

During this time, I read a lot in between deadlines. I had no other way to destress. I picked up Hand Wash Cold by Karen Maezen Miller, a Zen Buddhist priest. Reading this book centered me, calmed me, readjusted some debilitating negative emotions within me. I'm still referring to various chapters when times get rough.

A bright spot to spring was our family camp excursion to Camp Jones Gulch. A big success all around, except for the bunk beds. I must be getting on because bed comfort was never a strong suit with me, but waking up completely sore was not the most amazing experience ever.

We hiked, explored the woods, poked around streams, kissed banana slugs (well, Mr. O did), played games, swam in the crazy cold pool (all but me, I knew better), gorged on classic camp food, watched part of 'The Princess Bride' on movie night, climbed a terrifying 42-foot tall rock wall (none of us made it to the top), rode horses, observed chickens, admired the garden and compost heap, and other things too numerous to list here.

One lovely memory from our long weekend was Z waking up at the crack of dawn and pulling opening the gingham curtains of our ramshackle cabin to see what was outside. She lay there for a good half hour, peacefully observing.

School is winding down for the year. Summer day camp starts next week for the minis. I feel that this is really going to be a kick-ass summer, even though it is foggy and damp in my part of town.

the csa box

I've joined a CSA on a four-week trial basis - not because I doubt the quality of the produce but more that I wouldn't do it justice. Work is intense this month, and I can visualize the wilted and yellowed vegetables that could arise.

I picked up the goods on Wednesday, and just now I'm starting to delve into it. Tonight I'm caramelizing the baby turnips as a side dish to my leftover-from-lunch tuna sandwich. Tomorrow I will make a pureed carrot soup for dinner. That with some good bread and cheese and the d'anjou pears hanging out on my kitchen counter will be a happy time. I have some Portuguese kale that will also be a soup green, I think. The savoy cabbage will be slowly sauteed in butter and finished with a knob of butter. A small head of escarole will be sauteed with anchovies - this is really good. Two perfect tiny heads of baby lettuces will be a salad with goat cheese and some dried fruit, tossed with the orange infused olive oil and one of the vinegars. Baby spring onions, I will find a use for you. Leeks, you're being sliced lengthwise, caramelized, and paired with scallops. The butternut squash will be thrown into the oven; I think I saw an intriguing recipe for a butternut squash flatbread somewhere. I am ignoring the fennel for now.

take a deep breath and go

I took a very active yoga class today, and it's safe to say that it kicked my ass. I'm used to a slow, meditative, reflective practice. I was sweating in this one. I don't like sweating. But my body knew better than to listen to my mind's feeble protests.

At first I thought that I didn't like it. Then I thought that it's presented a different facet of practice to me, that sometimes I need the energizing and the sweating and the sheer physicality of flowing from one pose to the next. This hour-long session cleared my mind. I walked at a leisurely, proud pace back to work.

I've also signed up for a hiking yoga session. Urban adventure, here I come.

no corned beef and cabbage for the likes of me.

It just occurred to me that, due to my Lenten no-meat vow, I will not be able to partake in my usual St. Patrick's Day corned beef and cabbage consumption. Booooo...but you know what, I'm booing only in theory. I don't have the desire to (gasp!) break my vow nor am I particularly craving the cb + c.

Going in, I thought that I'd have a harder time, a more resentful time, but I've been okay. It's not even highly annoying. Just an "oh well" kind of feeling. And then I'm over it.

What I'm really craving these days is a perfectly ripe avocado drizzled with toasted sesame oil and rice vinegar. Heaven.

what we ate at Japantown today

We had a family lunch at Mifune, my old Japantown standby. O got the bullet train bento with rice and tempura. I ordered chicken kushi katsu for Z - she will never turn down any kind of deep fried chicken, and this had the bonus of being on skewers. (for the record, she ate it all, one for lunch and the leftover two for dinner) I had the tamago donburi, though I really wanted the oyako or curry, and D got the seafood soba soup. For dessert, we strolled to May's Coffee Shop and got a couple of chocolate filled taiyaki. Taiyaki, for those of you who aren't familiar with it, are essentially pancakes filled with red bean paste, chocolate, or any number of fillings. O, to my surprise, was completely disinterested in his, but Z, who has had them in the past, ate hers with great gusto. She also watched one of the women behind the counter mass produce taiyaki. We got as far as watching the batter being poured into the line of pans before Z wandered off.

We paid an obligatory visit to the Sanrio shop but didn't buy anything - recession budget, you know - and admired some of the anime and tchotchke laden window displays elsewhere.

Times like this make me happy.

new and rather exciting Trader Joe's discoveries

Okay, maybe these have been hanging around for a while and I haven't noticed, but now that I have, they've reinvigorated my love for the TJ's.

Panang curry with vegetables and jasmine rice. This is a frozen meal, amazingly enough, and the curry is fantastic. The vegetables are just ok. I'll add some tofu next time. Tonight, I sauteed up some broccoli rabe and there was enough sauce leftover to dip. Yum.

Eggplant garlic dip. This comes in a wide-mouthed jar - a thoughtful touch for those of us who refuse to dump a portion into a small bowl the way civilized people do. Thick enough to be part of a sandwich as a condiment, perfect on its own. That, along with two whole wheat pita and some fruit, was lunch today.

And when I'm off this no-meat Lenten diet, there is a mango, red quinoa, and chicken salad calling my name.

coming up for air

Very hectic week. All of my good intentions for fully utilizing my gym membership have been lurking at the bottom of the priority list. I'm starting to feel a bit like Bullwinkle. "This time for sure!"

Ruminations about my lack of free time aside, I have been not missed meat terribly, but there is a Chinese chicken dish - one of my comfort foods - that hangs out in my consciousness, reminding me every so often that 1) the highest quality ingredients can make a simple dish shine and 2) I really like peanut oil. Herewith, the recipe, courtesy of epicurious.com and tinkered with by me.

Poached Chicken with Ginger Scallion Sauce

• 1 3 1/2-lb. chicken - get the best chicken you can find. Cut up, bone in chicken thighs or breasts work well if the chopping of the whole chicken into pieces is intimidating.
• 6 tablespoons peanut oil
• 1/4 cup finely minced fresh ginger (you can use more or less, depends on how much you like ginger)
• 9 scallions stalks, about a bunch, reserving 6 for the stockpot (again, you can adjust based on your preference)
• Salt

1. Place the chicken and six whole scallion stalks in a covered stock pot filled with enough salted water to cover the chicken. Bring to a boil and simmer about 20 minutes. Turn off the heat and let the chicken stand in the cooking liquid until just warm, about a half hour. Drain, reserving the broth for another use (though I can't imagine what...it'll be too weak for a stock...but I'm sure you will have ideas). Discard the scallions.

If you're using thighs or breasts, simmer for 10 minutes and steep for a half hour.

2. In the meantime, mince the ginger and the white and light green parts of the remaining scallions and set aside in a ramekin or small shallow bowl.

3. Cut the chicken into chopstick-ready pieces.

4. Heat the peanut in a small saucepan or small skillet (like an 8" one if you have it, nonstick rocks for this) , and when it is hot and smoking, pour into the ramekin holding the minced scallions and ginger. Add salt to taste. Stir a bit to combine the ingredients.

5. Get your chopsticks and rice - long grain white, brown, whatever works for you. Dip chicken pieces into the sauce. Eat. Enjoy. 

sort of a meh day for food

though I made myself a swiss cheese, avocado and tomato croissant sandwich for lunch.

good music and good food

First, to get my excitement out of the way, a new Gorillaz album is forthcoming next Tuesday. Then there's a collaboration called Broken Bells - Danger Mouse and James Mercer of The Shins - that on first listen sounds like my next favorite, ousting One eskimO from its long tenure. Both of the long plays (oh yes I did) are available as a stream off npr.org. Go check them out, do.

On food deck tonight - Trader Joe's cheese tortellini tossed with leftover diced tomatoes, Colavita extra virgin olive oil, and the rest of the mozzarella balls. Dandelion greens sauteed with garlic and chopped anchovies to round it out. Another banana muffin for dessert. The kids had a slightly different variation of last night's fruit salad. O had tortellini in tomato sauce; he is not a fan of uncooked tomatoes. It must be a texture thing. Z had one giant chicken tender from what clearly was a ginormous mutant chicken.

A quiet, solitary night ahead. I need this opportunity to recharge. But not until after the Broken Bells stream is done.

day of rest, aka leftovers can rock

We had brunch with friends at this buffet-type place, so I had loaded up on salmon and mussels earlier. The fruit selection was unbelievably pathetic - bad cantaloupe, honeydew and watermelon. When did these perfectly fine and luscious fruits become waterlogged filler, the fruity equivalent of iceberg lettuce? Shame.

All this greed in the a.m. meant a sluggish p.m. The adults in the household were not hungry come dinner, but of course the minis were ravenous. I poked around the fridge and found the leftover cheese pizza from Saturday lunch. Then I grabbed some real fruit - a gala apple, two pineapple spears, green grapes (not organic and definitely non-local, but I was bullied into getting them by the tiny dictators), strawberries (organic but non-seasonal), and blueberries (um, yeah, not seasonal either) - and made a gigantic fruit salad. They ate 95% of it, and we nibbled on the rest. After putting them to bed, I went to the supermarket for a few things, including an Amy's bean and cheese burrito for my own dinner, which was complemented by leftover tomato and mozzarella salad, a banana muffin from the batch O and I made this morning, and a packet of haw flakes.

And to all a good night.

yesterday and today

Friday dinner consisted of potato and leek soup, goat's milk gouda, La Brea Bakery baguette, sliced pear and grapes and a bottle of 2008 sauvignon blanc from the wine club. Lunch (at home because it was a work at home day due to logistics) was leftover Chinese takeaway from Thursday dinner. Sweet and sour fish (my ancestors are spinning in their graves) and the prawns with the walnuts.

So today I have ambitions to make a tomato mozzarella basil salad - not quite a caprese, more chunky I think is more in keeping with the last of winter - for lunch. Avocados drizzled with toasted sesame oil and rice vinegar and soba noodles for dinner. Edamame for the O. And maybe some sushi from the Japanese hole in the wall to round it out.

In the meantime, I'm making steel cut oats for the first time. FAIL. The proportions of water to oats on the canister say four cups to 1/4 cup. Really? It ain't working.

a house in the suburbs of SF

I picked up a lease today. We found a three bedroom, two bathroom mid-century house in the southwest side of the city, known vaguely as West of Twin Peaks. There's a playground/park and a library half a block away. The light rail stop is a couple of blocks, as is the mall, which I know sounds mildly horrifying but that means Trader Joe's is walking distance. Z's school (and eventually O's school) is a long-ish walk but doable for sure. And seriously, it has a white picket fence. Woot!

I love our current place, but we're getting a little cramped in the two bedroom and one bathroom set-up. I love our landlords, who are sweet and wonderful people. But the walkability factor for this new house - not to mention the space - is irresistible. What parent wouldn't want to live near his/her kids' school?

Moving is another story. I'll look on the bright side and use this as an opportunity to further purge and declutter.

broccoli di cicco and other excursions

Tonight was random greens night. I felt like having sauteed savory greens over brown rice with a couple of fried eggs. So, I chose to make the bunch of broccoli di cicco and chopped up the rest of the green garlic to cook with. The depth of flavor that green garlic can impart is nothing short of amazing. I will buy whole crops if I run across it now.

To save myself some lunch angst tomorrow, I'm stirfrying sweet potato chunks, halved white mushrooms, and lacinto kale with some regular ol' garlic. That'll go over the rest of the brown rice. Listening to One eskimO. Minis are sleeping away, D is in Vegas for a conference or somesuch. It's a peaceful, productive night.

a lazy post-work day

which meant grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup. At least I managed to slice one roma tomato from the last organic veg/fruit delivery for my sandwich. It was good and sweet.

A few of my co-workers and I went to Chinatown for our annual Lunar NY dim sum feast. I managed to stick to the shrimp and seafood related things, except for one small lapse when a piece of beef cheung fun appeared on my plate - I was on the phone and wasn't paying attention - and I ate it thinking it was shrimp. No regrets, though. Nope.

spinach + green garlic = heavenly

The only issue was that spinach released too much water. I would've preferred a more dry saute to make this dish really shine. Peanut oil heated to smoke point, toss in the green garlic (sliced on the diagonal), 30 seconds later, toss in the spinach in batches until everything just wilts. Eat with brown rice and be happy.

an old favorite for dinner tonight

Sauteed brussels sprouts in garlic infused olive oil with toasted pinenuts - all tossed into fresh fettuccine with parm reg sprinkled liberally on top.

There were two mangos in the fridge that became mango pudding with coconut milk. I thought it was okay - undecided on whether the two strong flavors were battling.

And the potatoes? Simmered in the rest of the coconut milk with peas with curry. It smells better than it tastes. Something's missing and a little research is in order.

All in all, a satisfying cooking experiment day.

any form of broccoli rocks with oyster sauce

Tonight was rapini sauteed in peanut oil with oyster sauce and mirin to accompany the soy-glazed salmon and leftover brown rice. We were rather sophisticated and had a cheese course for dessert because D had bought this Spanish fig almond cake from the Ferry Building and it was screaming for cheese.

I haven't been on this vegetarian diet for a week yet, but so far I'm feeling like I can do this. I feel more hungry in between meals; time to graze and snack. Trail mix is saving me right now. There's a good hunk of goat gouda left. And who can forget Laughing Cow's triangle cheese?

Yes, I can.

(oh yeah. potatoes. urgent action needed. check.)

so the sunflower sprouts were the first to go

I tossed them in extra virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and some chopped sundried tomatoes. Freshly ground pepper to taste. As you can imagine, they had a nutty, buttery flavor to them. They were good! A nice offset to the crab manicotti we had for dinner.

My red potatoes have suddenly begun to bud (well, okay, they have been hanging out on the counter for a couple of weeks...) so they will be dealt with tomorrow. Some may go into a kale soup, some may turn into a gratin. It'll all depend on how inspired I feel tomorrow.

diary of a CSA box

I have some fun cooking experiments coming in the next week or so. The big ol' bag of veggies that I got from a local CSA included:

• adorable tiny potatoes
• a small bunch of young Nantes carrots
• six fennel stalks and bulbs - big ones
• spinach
• green garlic (smells fabulous)
• brussels sprouts
• broccoli rabe (I think)
• sunflower sprouts
• escarole
• dandelion greens
• rapini greens
• savoy cabbage

First up is are the fennel - not my favorite vegetable but I found a recipe using copious amounts of butter and parmesan. Brussels sprouts - easy. Pan fry with olive oil, garlic and pinenuts, toss over pasta or brown rice. However...sunflower sprouts and escarole? That'll take some research.

and we're off to a good start

Spinach and mushroom quesadillas tonight with a healthy dollop of Trader Joe's chipotle salsa. Baked pears for dessert.

But...I'm finishing some chicken drumsticks that mom had made with love and brought over for Chinese New Year lunch. I think that's ok, don't you? It's a shame to waste food.

Lent. and all that goes with it.

I'm not religious by any stretch of the imagination, but lately I've been attending to my spiritual self as a means of refocusing and realigning. Which is why we had Fat Tuesday pancakes tonight and I'm heading to Ash Wednesday service tomorrow.

I will be giving up meat for 40 days. Not fish or eggs, though. I'm not sure what to expect. I love hot dogs and have regular cheeseburger cravings. I don't think I can drive by In-N-Out Burger until after Easter. Otherwise, I can do this.

I thought about giving up other things, like caffeine, shopping, endlessly surfing the web or whiling away hours on Facebook, and sweets, to name a few. I thought about going the extra mile and volunteering in a soup kitchen or Z's school. Then I thought I'd better scale back on these ambitions.

So, I'm starting with the meatless/pescatarian diet. I've got quinoa on deck. All is good.

it's been a while

I've been too busy just plain living life - too much going on and no inclination to document it. The new year has nothing to do with my posting for the first time in ages. Really. really.

Small pockets of grief have stayed with me this past fall and winter season. Grief over the plights of so many around me who are in unfortunate and dire circumstances. Frustration that I can't do more to alleviate some of that pain. Do the efforts of the individual count? Only locally, and in a small way. These are bleak times.

And having said that, I find joy in these grief-filled spaces. Love for my family. Standing in the backyard for a few minutes and listening to the ambient sounds of the 'hood. Reading library books while tucked away in my flannel sheets. Putting on quiet emotional music while cooking comfort food.

But anyway. I'm looking forward to this year. I feel that good things are going to happen, and the existing good things will be maintained. Not much to complain about, right?

fall = soup

We're all feeling under the weather, and I made some soup last night to combat that stuffy head feeling. I used:

6-ish cups of chicken broth (from scratch) that had been patiently waiting in the freezer to be used.
1 bunch of lacinto kale, roughly chopped
1 can of white kidney beans
lots of freshly ground pepper
generous amount of bacon salt

Bring broth to boil. Throw in kale and simmer until the kale is tender, around five to ten minutes, depending on how large the pieces are. Add beans. Season with bacon salt and pepper to taste. Serve in large bowls and enjoy. Don't burn your tongue. Serves 3-4 adults as a main course.

what I miss about Chicago

1. Summer concerts at Ravinia. laying on the picnic blanket at dusk, full of wine and whatever we threw together for dinner, listening to classical music, watching the fireflies swirl in the sky above.

2. Fox & Obel. my almost perfect grocery store. Almost perfect because it was nowhere near where we lived post-grad school, when we actually had money to splurge on food now and again.

3. the El. best place and time to read a book and listen to the iPod is on the commute to and from work. on creaking wooden tracks, no less.

4. Lincoln Square. we should've just rented here for the duration of our sojourn in Chicago. Lincoln Square had it all - food, movie theater, grog, shops, awesome toy store, Brown Line stations, farmers' market, all kinds of street fairs and music fun. I can't write any more. It's too sad.

5. Lake Shore Drive. it is a pretty drive, even during the evil rush hour.

6. Julius Meinl. for meeting friends and feeling rather Euro.

7. Paper Source. ok, there are outposts in SF, but there is the glorious sort of semi-annual warehouse sale where I've scored way too many cool things.

8. all those parks.

9. our house. never shall we find a comparable abode here.

10. the people I left behind. all the cool moms, kids, friends, and co-workers. At least we'll always have Facebook.

the kindergarten follow-up, two weeks later

So far, Z's kindergarten experience is a positive, exciting one. She loves it. I'm glad. And relieved. And feeling validated about our school choice. The only thing she's complained about is the lack of a two-hour nap time. This is from the child who refused to nap from day one.

1st day of kindergarten

Z started kindergarten today. She’s been outfitted with a new matching backpack and lunchbox set. With a horse theme. I said she should pick her clothes out, and this is what she chose.

Unfortunately, that outfit wasn’t much protection against the morning chill while we were waiting in the schoolyard. Z was complaining that her legs were cold. She eventually decided to lay down on the asphalt on her backpack, like a turtle that got flipped onto its shell. Fortunately it was soon time for the morning assembly. The entire school formed a large circle, said the Pledge of Allegiance, and listened to some announcements from the new principal.

Everyone walked en masse to the kindergarten pod. Z was on the subdued side of her personality but was responsive. We saw her settle into the circle of kids for circle time and waved goodbye when the parents were asked to leave.

Her verdict when we picked her up? “It was okay.” Which means success!

of course I Mad Men'ed myself too.

It's just a coincidence that D-Money bears a resemblance to Don Draper.

inexplicably happy and aimless

The weekend started with our Friday ritual Ferry Building dinner and wine with a chocolate mousse cake from Safeway (do NOT laugh because it was good. and moist, the way a proper cake should be) because it was Big Daddy D's birthday. We sat at the table and talked. More accurately, he and I sat at the table and talked, and the kidlets ran around playing some loud game of their own devising.

We slept in today - 7:30 a.m., people! - and lazed around. Around lunchtime, Zoe and I will be headed to her swimming class. Then back home for a quick lunch before we all head out to see Up at the local three-screen theater. After that, who knows? Maybe a pit stop at the playground, maybe grabbing some frozen yogurt. For once, I'm not worrying over being late, not getting relatively inconsequential tasks done. I don't even have a to-do checklist for the next two days!

We don't often get the eventless weekend anymore, and these open-ended days of rest are greatly valued by me. My lists are good for organization and a reality check, but some days it's great to shred those and see what happens with the day. Like today. And you know what, I'm happy, happier than I've been in a long while. There is something to this work/life balance thing. 

what I'm listening to

Around the Well / Iron and Wine. Love Vigilantes cover can be found therein as well as Waitin' for a Superman. No more needs to be said.

Tinted Windows / Tinted Windows. James Iha. Adam Schlesinger. Bun E. Carlos. and Taylor Hanson! Yes, that Hanson. And you know what, I love this stuff. Power pop at its finest.

KCRW's Winter Mix. It may still be available on KCRW's website. free tunes - you absolutely cannot go wrong with this, and you may find a new artist to love.

Union / The Boxer Rebellion. Good ol' fashioned alt-rock.

coming home

Now that we have Z into a school, we're thinking of buying a house and setting down some roots. We're not expecting to make this move for some time, though. There's the albatross of our beloved Chicago house. Even with all its sterling qualities, it will not sell at the peak price that we purchased it for. If only I could pick it up and bring it over to the west coast. It's not a huge house, but it was home for a few years and I have fond memories. 

Although we want to live near the school, it's in a fairly posh neighborhood, and housing prices are not compatible with our current situation. So we're tracking prices in adjacent neighborhoods, including the Parkside and Sunset. To tell the truth, I'm experiencing some ambivalence because I spent a good part of my childhood in these areas. I had always thought I'd never live in that area again, and to be looking at housing there is, well, weird. I never wanted to go home, so to speak. But there is some odd comfort in living in the same neighborhood: riding the N Judah, marveling at the stretch of Noriega that's become a micro Chinatown, going to Sunset Super (either location) for my comfort food cravings (fish balls...oh yeah), dim sum and roll cakes to go on Irving Street - and Yum Yum Fish is still there!

My feeling is that we'll rent a humble abode within walking distance (ideally) of school once we rent out the Chicago house and if we find something that works. Like most of the great things that have happened to me, it'll be by chance and very easy. And we can still go to the wonton house on Noriega for cheap, filling eats; the kids dig on the wonton noodle soup.

earth hour = lovely blip in time

We had the lights off and a single Method lavender lemongrass candle burning while watching "Mulan" on tv. Which, yes, sort of defeats the purpose, but laying in the big bed with the kids snuggled in on either side in the semi-darkness made for a cozy, lazy, winding down moment. We don't get enough of those.

I have been thinking about memory and what we retain from our childhoods. What would my two remember? Would they specifically remember that moment of warmth and love, or perhaps an impression of that coziness? Am I doing enough to create those positive memories? I am astounded by how much Z remembers from being three and heartened that they are primarily good memories - having ice cream, going to the playground, playing in the backyard of the Chicago house, her bedroom there, making snow angels. I can't shield her or O from the necessary components of growing up, though. Eventually, they will encounter grave disappointment, heartbreak, and loss. But from their positive memories, I hope they develop a foundation of trust in me, that they know that I would not turn them away or judge when unhappiness occurs.

Today was filled with loving moments as well as impatience and anger - all in a day's work when you're alone with two highly energetic children. At the end of the day, we came back to love in the form of snuggling on the bed, O kicking me sporadically. 

school, glorious school

The dust has settled. We got our first choice public school and were waitpooled on all four of the privates to which we applied. Happy, of course, that we have a solid school in pocket, but a little sad about losing the chance for a unique educational experience for Z and O, at least in the elementary years. People have tried to be upbeat and reassuring that the waitlists could clear over the summer, but I see this one opportunity dimming. We'll try again for middle school, but it will be no less difficult, if not more so.

I was seduced by the offerings from the privates. Beautiful campuses, warmth and a sense of community, a fully-loaded curriculum, and - if I had to be honest - a chance to give my kids a leg up in the world. It was a glimpse into an entirely different experience that neither D nor I had as children. It was a gift we wanted to give Z and O, and it was frustrating that we couldn't pull it off. 

We're being philosophical; God is pointing us toward the public. To reinforce that notion, there is a preschool next to the school's campus. I'm touring it in a few weeks, and if my gut says go, I'm submitting an application for O. The ability to minimize the impact of the double drop-off/pick-up is infinitely valuable.

I'm trying to not see this as a closed door but a turn in the road. It's hard not to feel a sense of loss, though. I'm wondering if the mere fact that my older baby is starting kindergarten in a few months is the root of my emotional reaction to the process. 

In the meantime, I'm indulging in fantasies of volunteering in the school library and chaperoning field trips.

work + parenting

I work full-time in a challenging job that by turns exhilarates and exhausts me. I am constantly terrified of screwing up. I have a deathly fear of failure, which I'm trying to get over because paralysis is not an option. 

And yes, I'm talking about both Career Job and parenting the minis.

Being a mother and working outside the home is tough. I have a compulsion to push myself, and it generally backfires on me. There are times when I feel that neither realms are getting the attention they need because I'm being pulled one way or the other. Eventually, everyone's annoyed, and I want to go fetal for a week.

The one lesson I'm learning is that I need to dial back and focus. Instead of doing 20 things, take 10 of those and do them very well. I can't get my act together to bake cookies from scratch with the minis, but I can read books until I'm hoarse. I'm not the most creative brainstormer, but I can ask people about their work and go deep with my understanding of that work. 

Now I need to get off my arse and do it.

her work

I gave Z one of my file folders in an attempt to corral all of the paper she generates. It's a sage green folder that I got during one of the Paper Source warehouse sales (and reason #59 why I miss Chicago). These include half-finished coloring pages and worksheets; she's taken to calling these her work. O accidentally found her notebook, another bargain though from Barnes and Noble, so between the worksheets and filling up the notebook pages, she's got a lot to do. 

Her preferred media is ink. She found some gel pens that I had purchased a couple of years ago so I could write on chocolate brown envelopes for some holiday cards or something, and she has a rather large carousel of Crayola markers at her disposal. 

Watching her work reassures me that she'll be able to do many things when she's older. My job is to remember to leave her alone and let her explore and make her own mistakes. 

a beautiful moment

Both kids are napping, both cats are napping, and I can hear the wind whooshing through the trees in the backyard. It's an all too rare moment of stillness in the house. I'm enjoying it by being quiet and still myself.

And apparently my very loud typing (my computer is in the master bedroom, where Z was crashed out) has now woken up the Z. She's happily eating an apple and two Bonbel circle cheeses for a snack.

this can't be a coincidence

Two bands that I currently dig have distinctly '80s vibes to them. Like this band that sounds like a mashup of The Cure and The Smiths, and a few dudes who put out synth-y, New Wave dance pop.

I likes both a lot. 

no cliches

but it's an awe-inspiring thought that my children will remember Barack Obama as the first of many presidents in their lives. It makes me misty with joy and trepidation. And I'm proud that I did my tiny share by way of tiny, tiny donations and voting. I even dragged the kids with me to the polls, during the primaries and election night. If they need to remember my crazy moments and that being one of them, hell, I'll take it.

trying not to overthink it

Z is in the playdate phase of the private school admissions process. My gut tells me that she's been doing well and that all we need to do now is sit back and wait until March to see what the results are. My brain, however, enjoys tormenting me with thoughts like "this is a waste of time", "we have no chance" and "she will be miserable here and tell you daily as you're bleeding money for the tuition and extras".

My gut tells me that the decision will be obvious and easy; the right school will be made beautifully clear to us. Clarity of the path has been a hallmark of the major decisions that I've made. But try telling my mind that.

birthday festivities

It's that time of year again. We weren't planning on having a party for Z but did anyway. It was on the 28th (coincidentally her due date), and thankfully we had a great turnout even though having a party during the winter break is a risky endeavor. The last thing you'd want to do is scar a child for life by throwing a party where no one came.

The cake was an ice cream cake from Baskin-Robbins. Classic was the way to go - chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream. I try to stay away from themed or branded birthdays, but I couldn't resist getting some Curious George paper goods and masks in lieu of hats.

Really, she did like it. Our current favorite nighttime reading material includes "Curious George Learns the Alphabet".

And what's a birthday post without some cake eating?

photos courtesy of Derrick Wong

new year's eve supper

I was going for a good luck theme:

La Brea Bakery french baguette

Trader Joe's spinach  + artichoke dip

cioppino courtesy of Whole Foods

scampi

deep fried fish stick things for the kids, also courtesy of Whole Foods

very quickly sauteed savoy cabbage with a dash of soy sauce and rice wine

rice pilaf with lentils, Whole Foods rice mix in a box, but hey, it works

tater tots for the kids

The kids and I stopped off at the BR for our free birthday scoops. Rainbow sherbet for the Z, chocolate for the O, and strawberry for me. So, no dessert, I think, though we do have some leftover chocolate coins.

on 2008

I would not say it's been a year of complacency. We've had two job changes, a cross-country move, a major car accident resulting in the loss of my beloved station wagon, and an economy that is not cooperating with our wishes. But all of these upheavals are what makes life less humdrum.

We have our health. We've celebrated five years of marriage and 13 years of a life together. We are parents to two lovebombs of children who never cease in delighting us. We are repairing neglected relationships with family and friends and forging new connections as well. We have our necessities covered.

We count ourselves lucky. Although that knowledge doesn't prevent us from wishing for more creature comforts, we are allowed a little envy. After that wave passes, we emerge to see our children ready for hugs and kisses, the smell of something good wafting from the stovetop, and a stack of books on the bedside table.

neighborhood envy

Today we crashed the playground and library of the neighborhood where we want to live eventually. It's a little posh, but then again, not too much of SF is not posh these days. The big draw is the convergence of three or four Muni train lines at the tunnel that will take you straight downtown - a beauty of a commute. Plus, the library is cozy with a separate children's room, and the playground is smallish but contained and with a bonus grassy field for running with complete abandon.

It's not to say that our 'hood is unacceptable, but having a more direct commute to the working world makes life much easier. And having a three screen  movie theater within walking distance seals the deal for us. When D-Money and I lived in Tarzana, we were a five-minute walk from the local multiplex and a quick drive from an independent movie place in Encino. In Chicago, we lived in Lincoln Square for a while and loved taking in movies at the Davis, which cost $5 per ticket - perfect. If we stayed in Chicago, we would've hunkered down in LS or headed out to Oak Park with its architectural history and - yes, you guessed it - movie theater on the main drag.

Not so much to ask for, right? Will it happen? We can only hope. And play the lottery a little more often.

best moment of the day

Because D-Money is home for the holidays and can wrangle O, Z and I had a luxurious half hour of mama-daughter time, which we spent reading. We like Richard Scarry's books for his nearly OCD attention-to-detail illustrations and spend more time talking about the pictures than actually reading. 

I like these impromptu moments. Some nights we don't even get to reading, unfortunately. And I wonder if the kids will remember these positive times or the times when I have had it and lose my temper. 

I thought I was immune to caffeine

but it's past midnight and I'm still wide awake. Granted, I took a brief unexpected nap in Z's bed earlier because she wanted a little co-sleeping time. But I'd like to think it was that Thai iced coffee at 2 p.m. I can give or take the 'bucks but Thai iced coffee, how I love thee!

At least I got one private school app done. Woohoo!

we're in an economic downturn?

I wouldn't have noticed because I'm always broke, or close to it.

what Sundays are like.

A chicken is roasting in the temperamental oven, Z is coloring, it's close to six p.m. and O is still napping. Laundry folded and ready to be put away. Making a to-do list for the week.

important now

[psst...the pic on the left will make sense if you read the last paragraph in this post first]

This fall I've been consumed with the whole process of finding a school for Z and O. They're spending the next, oh, six or even nine years there, so it behooves us to pick a solid one.

The public schools that we've toured are pretty darn swell. We looked at one top SF public and came away underwhelmed. It's not to say it didn't deserve its good rep, but in comparison with others we've seen, it was comparable to a host of other district schools. We have one that is our top choice - we plan on eventually moving to that neighborhood, the principal is down to earth and straightforward, the parents who led the tour we were on were also down to earth, and the kids looked like they were having a good time. So we'll turn in our app with seven choices and try to forget about the process until late March when the results roll in.

We've toured four private schools as well. They also have their strengths, and, to be honest, they will be a better fit for the kiddos in the long run. However, the admissions process is competitive, based on a number of factors including parent interviews and screening of the kids. It's more personal and, as a result, generates many feelings of insecurity and inadequacy, at least on my part. We'll do our best to provide thoughtful answers to the essay questions, be ourselves at the interviews and tours, and submit our apps, then wait for the March letters.

All in, we're applying to 11 schools - 11 schools that'll work for our family. It's an incredibly stressful experience; even though we've done our research and due diligence, what if we're completely wrong? Part of the whole torment of parenting is that feeling that somehow you're going to screw things up no matter what your good intentions are.

***

I took Z to a family open house at one of the private schools. It was two hours; I fully expected to stay a hour tops. But Z had a ball. We hung out in the kindergarten classroom for a good hour, took a snack break, then headed up to the library. We didn't even hit the art room (I'm starting to suspect that she, like me, likes to create in solitude) and revisited the kindergarten classroom to close the day. I rarely get to see her in action in this kind of setting, and I have to say it was pretty neat to see her pretend play with these old school Fisher Price Little People toys. We're talking the ones from the '70s, like this a-frame house that I had when I was not that much older than her. Now I kind of want to find one just to have. I know, good luck with that, right?

just like home

The dust has settled from our near cross-country move. Camping out in an empty house for a week whilst waiting for your goods to show up was an experience. It wasn't horrible, but I have no desire to repeat it.

The kids are sharing a [very pink] room and have adjusted quite well. Better than I had hoped. They are stressed out, though. Naptimes are random and unpredictable, middle of the night awakenings more common than not, tantrums more explosive, appetites wane and wax. Despite the disruptions, they've been flexible and forgiving. It is wonderful to open the doors separating the master bedroom from the deck that leads directly to the backyard and have dinner there. The kids next door have taken a shine to my kiddos, and it's sweet to hear them playing together, albeit in our respective yards.

My happiness at being here is tempered by melancholy. I miss Chicago and the friends I left behind. I have great love for a number of people, places, and things. I'm glad that I had the opportunity to live there and to develop relationships with all sorts of wonderful characters. I have to believe that these ties I established will never be severed. We may drift apart but will come back together. I have friends from the LA years whom I've rediscovered recently. I hope that holds true with my midwest peeps. For me, it's always about the people.

shifts

Here's the story on the move.

On a whim, I applied for a job in my field for a great company that's located in San Francisco. In my mind, I thought I didn't have a shot since I live in Chicago, and this is not the kind of job for which you would recruit outside of the city. Lo and behold, I got a phone call for an interview that snowballed into a job offer. I accepted it, and have spent the last few months in cold sweats and sudden panic attacks.

Moving is one of my least favorite activities in the world. To date, I have not packed a single thing, though I have gotten rid of bagfuls of random assorted items. I have to confess that I'm overwhelmed. This would be one of the opportunities where a magical fairy being would be really, really helpful.

Z is excited about moving to San Francisco. She's looking to the future. O has no concept yet; it'll hit him after we move. Regardless, it'll be a rough year. I'm fully not expecting us to feel comfortable for a while.

I will say that, as I was randomly driving around Monday evening and cruising down streets that were slowly becoming familiar to me again, I thought, "this is home. I've run away, and now I'm coming back. but not in shame or defeat. I'm not the callow person I was when I left, and maybe I've seen far too much of a lot of things, but I'm coming back as a wiser adult. would that make things different?" I was an angry young woman when I fled for L.A., and I'm not sure how much of that anger has truly dissipated. I know better than to blame people for old wounds. Perhaps I've come back at this point in time to make peace.

karmic balance

bad:
frickin' tree in our backyard dropped a huge branch in the yard. 'twas large enough that it covered most of the backyard and took out a dead cable line.

good:
no one and nothing was seriously damaged by said huge branch.

bad:
tree has lived past its prime, according to our tree guy. so it needs to come down. no shade come summer for poor D.

good:
we'll plant another tree.

bad:
kiddos and I won't be around to enjoy the new tree.

good:
but the robins and squirrels will.

what I'm pissed off about today

I'm conducting my annual purge the closet exercise, which is all the more urgent given that we're getting ready to relocate to my beloved hometown of San Francisco [more on that saga later], and I came across a pair of dark brown leather pants. They are simple, stylish, not overtly rock 'n' roll, with a slim cut, no pockets, and a subtle boot cut leg. I try them on. I cannot pull the zipper up. I am flabbergasted. For you see, these fancy pants are pre-pregnancy, pre-Chicago, pre-a whole lot of things. They fit perfectly well seven years ago!

Goddamn it.

I'm not sure why I'm even perturbed about it. I've had no occasion to wear leather pants, first of all. I can't complain about not shedding any pregnancy weight gain. I can't even complain about my post-pregnancy body because, yes, things are not as jaunty and firm as they once were, but neither has everything gone to pot. Entirely. I know better than to bare my midriff these days, at any rate. My vanity has only gotten a flesh wound in this instance.

But they're cute on, and it kills me that they will never grace my body with their cuteness again. Off they go to the thrift store [where I found them in the first place] for some other soul to discover.

to Z on her fourth birthday

success!,
originally uploaded by urban mama.

My memories of you. Falling asleep on my chest after nursing in the waning hours of the night. Your tentative delight of being in a warm bath. Your exertions and accompanying vocal effects when you were trying to lift your head for the first time. The grin when you took your first steps toward me. The refusals to nap. Eating lunch at Café Selmarie and then spending endless minutes in the toy shop up the street. Your curiosity and calm when your brother made his first appearance into the world.

The limitless love I have for you is tinged with exasperation at your burgeoning defiance, fear that you are prone to giving up too easily, concern that I’ve passed along my obsessive-compulsive, perfectionist, fear of failure tendencies to you. You exhaust me with your sheer joy and the ebb and flow of your energy. Yet, somehow, you’re able to step up to the challenge at precisely the right moments and wow me with your empathy, your innate understanding of the world, your capacity for deep wells of emotion.

You have already called me your best friend and that you always want to be with me. Although I make light of it, I am touched by the pureness of your love for me. I've done nothing but bring you into this world, and I'm not sure if I've fully equipped you just yet. I will try not to screw it up, though I’m afraid eventually I will disappoint you. It is inevitable. But, I will always be your mother and your safe haven.

[almost] first snowfall of the season

Shuttling groceries and other sundry items between the garage and the house, I stopped for a minute and listened to the falling snow. You can hear the quiet it brings. It sounds like a whisper.

Something about snow dampens and softens the sounds of the city. Street noise is muted; it's almost as though the main drag near the house moved further away.

the time sucker known as Facebook

So I've jumped the shark and started populating my Facebook profile, which was originally set up in 2005 - eons in the social networking world. I can't remember exactly why I started messing around with it, but, suffice to say, it's taken up precious minutes that should be spent filing the mound of never-diminishing paperwork on my desk here at home, sorting the laundry, preventing the kids from making new holes in the drywall, and other important activities.

The thing that takes up a vast amount of time is navigating the add-ons for Facebook. I still haven't figured out the Flickr app and have taken more movie compatibility quizzes than I care to admit. The most time-sucking of these apps is Scrabulous, an online Scrabble game which is terribly, terribly addicting. Particularly when good friends beat the pants off you and you desperately need to save face. But immediately.

happy birthday, little man.

happy birthday, little man.,
originally uploaded by urban mama.

I’m gonna tell my son to grow up pretty as the grass is green
And whip-smart as the English Channel’s wide...
Liz Phair, “Whip-Smart”

Mr. Guy,

I cried when the nurses put you on my chest for the first time. Maybe it was because I wasn’t expecting you for another two weeks. Maybe it was because your sister - all 21 months of her - was present for your birth since the sitter came down with strep and was sitting in an emergency room waiting for treatment. And maybe it was because it was the start of an incredibly complex relationship between me and you, mother and son. You were born when a show called “The Sopranos” was big and that deals with the ramifications of a twisted mother/son relationship, among other things. You’re not allowed to watch it until you’re at least 18, by the way. I don't need you going all AJ on me.

I promise you that I will never hold you back from what you want to do, unless I sense that what you’re about to do has nothing to do with what you feel in your heart but more about what other people are telling you to do. I had a friend once whose mother was slowly dying of cancer. He wanted to move across the country to live out a dream but didn’t want to leave her. She made him go, saying that it would be selfish of her to keep him tethered when he had an entire life to life. That’s how I feel about you and your sister. You have grand opportunities waiting to be seized. Don’t hold back.

For now, as you turn the Important Age of Two, I will delight in your open mouthed kisses, your tackle hugs, your fake whiny cry which sounds a little like a broken ambulance siren, your anger at being thwarted from causing yourself real bodily harm, your willingness to try anything on my plate - even the garnish, your persistence and patient determination in opening doors you’re not supposed to open, and your mischevious, grabbing life by the balls, joyful disposition. In the words of Marge Simpson, you’re my special little guy. And yes, you can watch “The Simpsons” before you’re 18. It’ll probably still be running.

it never fails.

You're dressed in a drop dead killer outfit, wearing heels that cause other women to stop you and ask you where you got them, walking in a full on confident stride that screams, "I am an independent, strong, self-assured woman and I kick major ass", and you trip on a flippin' sidewalk crack.

eaten alive.

For the first time in years, I'm being attacked, gleefully, by mosquitoes and other blood-sucking critters. It may have something to do with the torrential rainfall we've experienced here in Chicago lately; them skeeters like humidity and pools of standing water. I've slaughtered three that I found in the house today. Hell, it's not enough that I'm feeding the little bastards - they want to hang out here rent-free? Forget it.

the eating habits of the very young homo sapiens

O has the palate of a burgeoning gourmand. He has sampled lobster and requested more after the first taste. He has been witnessed running around with a chicken and apple sausage clutched in a pudgy hand. He likes a bit of avocado with his soft tacos. He is not a fan of fast food, though like Jeffrey Steingarten and the late, great Julia Child, he loves McDonald's fries to the exclusion of any other offering from the golden arches. In fact, he prefers Boca burgers. There's nothing in the world that smells like a toddler who's had a load of garlic-infused soy.

Z, on the other hand, is a fan of processed foods. The faker, the better. She does love any sort of fruit - fresh, dried or hanging out in liquid, which offsets her love of the dinosaur-shaped mystery chicken nuggets. I considered it a major coup that she'll eat the chicken from the chicken chow fun we order from the local Chinese takeaway. It's difficult for me - someone who loves everything from four-star restaurant fare to $1.50 greasy cheese pizza slices - to accept this resistance to the myriad possibilities of food. As long as you need to eat, you may as well have some fun keeping yourself alive, right?

All this talk about food is making me hungry. Where are the wasabi peas?

if I were a Simpsons character, I'd look like this.

when the f*** did I get so old?

I dropped off a package at a client's office a few days ago and decided to walk most of the way there and back. This was probably about three miles in all. A leisurely stroll down Michigan Avenue and Upper Wacker Drive in high humidity. I wore some Diesel kicks. Not a strenuous walk, right?

Right, except that by the time I got to Washington and Wacker from Erie and Michigan, my left knee was feeling a little sketchy. Not that it was making noises but it felt sore. Tired. Unhappy with my walking. It was none too pleased that I was trying to live a sustainable lifestyle by not taking any form of transportation requiring fossil fuels.

The following day, I crashed into a doorframe while chasing the kids around. Now the right knee has a bruise.

I've also been extraordinarily tired for someone who doesn't do damn much during the day in terms of physical labor. I've taken to passing out on Z's floor when I'm putting her to bed; she likes me to stay for a while after kissing her goodnight. So I lay on her rug with a giant floor pillow under my head and one of her tiny blankets covering me, and I fall asleep before she does.

I'm used to being Indestructible, Resilient Amy. This slow falling apart is not cool. I was the one who could drink copiously without fear of hangovers. I could out-eat most men. I went to the gym regularly. Now red wine gives me a major headache, I get heartburn, and my body after two kids has gone to mush. Even thinking about joining a gym exhausts me.

And the checkout girl at Whole Foods didn't even card me when I bought the giant bottle of Belgian Trappist Monk ale yesterday.

Getting old sucks.

it is done.

I finished the last Harry Potter last night. I am sure I'm not saying anything new here when I say that it's a fitting finale to the series. Now I have an urge to reread all seven books to pick up on everything that I missed the first one or two times.

The best "children's" books - and I don't even want to call them that because it's a limiting label - are the ones you have on your bookshelves when you're well into adulthood. I for one have the "Wrinkle in Time" trilogy and the Narnia books from my youth and the "His Dark Material" trilogy [Daniel Craig as Lord Asriel - nice bit of casting in the upcoming movie version of "The Golden Compass"] and Harry Potter from the recent past. And as I'm typing, it hits me that these books deal with alternate worlds and realities inhabited by very human characters. All are variations on the classic hero's quest construct as popularized by Joseph Campbell.

Reading is an immersive experience. We expect to take something away, be it raw knowledge, escape or a different perspective. Phrases stay with you. Visuals inhabit your waking life. You reference the book in everyday conversation. I'm not expecting to call anyone a Muggle anytime soon, but I do love the "Voldemort Votes Republican" bumper sticker I saw on a beater of a car recently.

brb

Like practically everyone else, I'm reading the new Harry Potter. I expect to finish it in a week. Smell ya later.

sky blue sky

the view from the lawn,
originally uploaded by urban mama.

The best part about Ravinia: laying on the grass after a little vino and seeing this above your head.

cooking = love

I read an article on nytimes.com today, where the writer, Leslie Kaufman, discusses how to cook meals for entire family consumption with the understanding that certain younger members of the family will eat one thing out of the seven you bring to the table.

The one line that resonated with me was:

"I committed to cooking a family meal when my first son was born...not because of any psychology study about the well-being of children, but because it gave me comfort."

Cooking for la familia is a means by which I express my love. Even if we're having hot dogs, there will be fresh fruit and maybe a vegetable or legume snuck in there. I put a lot of thought into balancing flavors and food groups. By cooking, I feel as though I'm extending a part of myself to those who consume the meal. Through the meal, I'm saying, "I want you to enjoy this meal in the present, and it's okay if you don't remember it in the future. When you eat what I prepare, I want you to feel comforted, loved, relaxed."

I work full-time, so my time spent at work is vague and incomprehensible to the minis. It doesn't make an impact, yet, to discuss things like wages, inflation and the cost of living. But if I can manage to assemble dinner daily - okay, we get takeout every so often - I'm hoping that I'm establishing a ritual of sorts. Long after they've left for college or other pastures, they will retain some internal memory of mama providing something to eat almost every day. It'll be part of my legacy.

everything they say is true.

Proportion,
originally uploaded by urban mama.

1. They grow up so fast.

2. They're frickin' cute kids.

3. O looks like me, and Z looks like D.

4. Boys are from Mars, and girls are from Venus.

5. At least Z isn't wearing pink this year.

today's playlist: music for deadlines

Sound of Silver | LCD Soundsystem
Renegades | Rage Against the Machine
Is This It? | The Strokes
Decksanddrumsandrockandroll | Propellerheads
Paul's Boutique | Beastie Boys
Hot Fuss | The Killers
Beaucoup Fish | Underworld
Reggatta De Blanc | The Police
American Idiot | Green Day

set adrift on memory bliss

I've been the proud owner of a Mac Mini for more than a year, and I love that li'l white box. Its predecessor was a bondi blue G3 tower with a now laughable 6 gig hard drive. We had wonderful times, the G3 and I. That's a post for another day.

Last night I finally pulled my personal work off the G3 - portolio, tax returns, cover letters and resumes, and the piece de resistance: fiction and columns spanning nearly 20 years. Twenty! I reread the novel, a work in progress since I was 18. I looked at articles written for webzines and friends' websites. I found a chat transcript from 2002 where W. and I were attempting to resurrect our '90s webzine; five years later, we're still talking about it.

I came away with a single happy thought: I found my voice around 2000. The voice hasn't changed, but the writing, I'd like to think, has become more fully realized and complete. And the voice is one of wryness, honesty, rapidfire wit, passion, a "screw it, I'm going to say this, and people can take it in whatever way they want" mentality, a little precious, maybe too much in love with being clever.

I miss writing. Specifically, I miss the luxury of time + energy + inspiration that jumpstarted the flow. Looking over my past work last night has relit the fuse. I've a book in me yet. Or, I'll collect my various bits and bobs and label it a collection of my best of.

why I love the peeps at America's Test Kitchen

Today's e-mail newsletter had this wonderful, genius tidbit of advice:

KITCHEN ADVICE: Leak-Free Ice Cream Cones
The real tragedy of a dripping ice cream cone isn't the mess, but the loss of the last little bit of ice cream. One solution to a leak-free cone is to create a barrier between the melting ice cream and the cone tip. Two kid-friendly obstructions are an upside-down Hershey's Kiss and a mini marshmallow.

Brilliance, I tell you. Sheer brilliance!

snapshot: today's iPod playlist of music for working girls

Feels Like Home | Norah Jones
Corinne Bailey Rae
Poses | Rufus Wainwright
Plans | Death Cab for Cutie
various NPR Fresh Air and Music podcasts
The Mix-Up | Beastie Boys

parlez-vous français?

I am pleased to report that one of Z's favorite songs right now is "Sympathique" by Pink Martini. Lyrically, I think it's about ennui; my French skillz are less than poor, so I'm not the most reliable translator. There is something about smoking: "Et puis je fume". But the tune is catchy so we sing the song phonetically in the car and call it a day.

In related news, O has a huge aversion to Prince in all of his incarnations. Any Prince or The Artist Formerly Known As Prince song elicits shrieks of dismay and protests. And a general, emphatic "no!"

to the left, to the left

I'm listening to Beyonce singing "Irreplaceable"*. It is a sterling example of a pop song done right. Catchy melody, girl power theme, kicking bad boyfriend to the curb - what else does one need?

The premise of the song is interesting. Seems that Beyonce's man has been misbehaving - "Because you was untrue/Rolling her around in the car that I bought you" - and he's a kept man to boot. She's kicking him out of her house, taking back all the gifts, telling him, "I can have another you in a minute/Matter fact, he'll be here any minute."

Snap!

Despite all the tough chick posturing, she allows one moment of vulnerability: "So since I'm not your everything/How about I'll be nothing/Nothing at all to you?" That's why we fall in love; we want to be the center of the universe, the locus of our lover's life. And when we fall out of orbit, it's a disorienting feeling. We feel betrayed, unwanted, insecure. We reach the crossroads: do we continue with this person for whom we fell so deeply, or do we roll the dice and find another?

The trade-off for high passion and the rush of being with someone new is tending a slow burning and oftentimes unexciting flame. Let's be honest - relationships are hard work. Otherwise, you wouldn't see as many people giving up as you do. But there are times when something has run its course, and we need to be intuitive enough to recognize it.

Then we can step off to the left and move on.


* yeah, I know this song was released ages ago. And it's still damn good.

J'aime voyager.

I've got it in my head that my next off-the-beaten-track excursion should be to Montreal and Quebec City. Many good reasons to travel there exist for these destinations:

1. I've never been to Canada.

2. Chicago is not far from these cities - a two+ hour flight.

3. I can pretend I'm in France.

4. The subway system in Montreal seems efficient and a good way to get around.

5. I need to get more stamps in my passport.

6. It's not terribly expensive overall. Unless I choose to make it so.

7. It would be a recon mission to explore the possibilities of dual citizenship in case I need to flee the US.

I should take a crash course in traveler's French just for fun. If nothing else, learning the correct pronunciation of various words will make it easier to order something with, say, beurre blanc sauce at a schmancy restaurant.

today's car conver

Z: I'm the sun! Mommy, you're a cloud.

me: I'm a cloud?

Z: yeah, and O is a cloud too!

me: okay, so you're the sun, and O and I are clouds. Gotcha.

Z: and Daddy is the rain!*

No, I don't know what this all means either.


* D-Money's brilliant quote re: post: "Every Mommy has a silver lining and into every life a little Daddy must fall."

eq

Z is now getting into the habit of saying "I love you" at spontaneous moments. I thoroughly encourage this. When she gets to be of a certain age, the ability to say "I love you" without reservation to the love[s] of her life will be crucial.

I didn't grow up in an emotionally open household; to this day I repress a lot of things that I shouldn't. It's plain unhealthy. This is one thing that I don't want to bequeath to my children. The repression, I think, keeps me from being completely emotionally involved in relationships. True intimacy is very scary. When I've tried to be more open with my feelings, I've been shot down, ridiculed, dismissed. And that makes me even more angry and withdrawn and disinclined to be deeply and truly involved.

But what I can do is not let this manifest in my kids. I've horrified myself by hearing the words "That's not a big deal, stop crying" come out of my mouth. Why not just say, "Whatever you're feeling is unimportant"? Same effect, no? I freely admit it's an ass pain to be endlessly patient, infinitely understanding, but I see in Z now that approaching problems with logic and compassion goes much further than saying "Because I said so." She's a fabulous little girl and goddamnit, I'm not going to hinder her emotional development in any way.

I don't let a day go by without saying "I love you" to each of them. Maybe I overcompensate by kissing and hugging them all too much. But I've never know a kid their ages to turn down a kiss and a hug. Somehow, I'm doing something right.

the happy prince

I've had a couple of days this past week with some heavy-duty mama and son time. I don't spend nearly as much time with O as I should because Z lays first claim to my free time constantly.

On one of the days, he had some 24-hour stomach bug that caused copious vomiting, and we spent the day at home recuperating. He wasn't that sick; he demanded a wagon ride around the block and enjoyed the sprinkler action on various lawns. I put him down for his nap and held his hand until he was nearly out. It's a special move that we have.

We had grandparents in town this weekend, and it was a whirlwind of food and activity. On Sunday, D-Money took Z down to Oak Park, where they were staying, so O and I trekked to the supermarket to get a few things. I broke one of my self-imposed cardinal rules and opened a bag of goldfish crackers so he could munch while we shopped. But he thoroughly enjoyed himself and was fascinated by the piles and stacks of seemingly endless food. Not once did he try to escape the cart - a new milestone.

The one thing I'm working on right now is weaning him from the milk bottle. He's ready. It's a bit of a wrench - though not as much as stopping breastfeeding - but he's been able to fall asleep without needing the bottle for the past several days. It's time.

So now I'm without a baby in the house. After three years, it's an odd feeling. Sad, but liberating. No more dragging of huge tote bags filled with baby paraphenalia - back to normal-sized, cute handbags for mom. No more double stroller - both kids demand to walk or run amok. No more special baby food - O will eat everything from gnocchi to lobster.

Back to my happy prince - he's a good egg. A destructive, highly energetic, mischievous, charming egg, but a good one.

these peeps are funny.

truly. go laugh at them. points if you can guess my connection to one of the hosts.

http://bwtmpodcast.blogspot.com/

a surreal moment

I took Z to a somewhat chichi kids' haircut place today. If you've never been to one of these places, they're usually stocked with toys, books, tvs playing kids' shows and video game consoles for the older child. The decor is whimsical Alice in Wonderland/fairy tale. So, a big hit with the mini set.

Anyway, we were walk-ins and hung out for a bit. We ended up watching a Wiggles segment, a wacky live action show from our Aussie friends. A musical number came up involving pirates and dancing, and the first line of the song sounded familiar. Very familiar. As the song progressed, I realized that it was "Six Months in a Leaky Boat", an old Split Enz song...which was confirmed by the appearance of a bemused Tim Finn playing guitar with the lead Wiggles guy.

Z was slightly riveted by the dancing pirates before wandering off elsewhere. I was completely riveted.

I have to say, though, that my favorite Split Enz song of all time is "I Got You".* Early Neil Finn [of Crowded House] songwriting. It's much simpler lyrically than his later work, but the darker undertone set against a cheery pop melody is very much in evidence.

*so many links in this post! To paraphrase a friend, I'm always peddling music for the greater good.

favorite words

confluence

unclear

mirepoix

allegedly

fabulous

well...

songs that moved me today

Hallelujah / Jeff Buckley

Accidental Babies / Damien Rice

what summer feels like

Hanging out in the park, surreptitiously sipping alcohol in plastic Solo cups and being nonchalant in front of cruising cops, enjoying the warm weather, watching people going about their business on bikes, tennis courts and softball fields, laughing, eating whatever everyone brings to the potluck, and watching other people set up the net and play badminton.

Summer is all about the total chill time. Summer weekends? Leave the watch and the Blackberry at home. Never be on time. De-accessorize. Libertad!

best. night. ever.

photo by joel didriksen for kingpinphoto.com

The day started off with seeing friends, eating cinnamon rolls and general fun 'n' games. Now I'm sitting here listening to Rufus Wainwright live in concert at the Gramercy Theater in NYC courtesy of NPR and the lovely peeps at WNYC. I really should spring for computer speakers; the one on the Mac Mini does not cut it.

RW is a lyricist in the old-fashioned sense - words structured in such a way that he says things quite plainly, but it hits you a second or two after you hear the line. He is heavily influenced by all that opera to which he listened between the ages of 14 and 24 [I think that's right], and that was it. No rock, no jazz, no folk. Just opera. Not only can he write circles around most, he sings with a whole lot of moxie and grace.

I can die happy right now.

why blog?

I've never kept a diary in my life, save the time when I was eight and wrote about a crush I had on some older guy [he probably was 12 or thereabouts] in Chinese class and my mom naturally read the entry and subsequently gave me a lecture on love crap that to this day makes me go red. Mortification, my soul is yours.

Anyway. Being publicly anonymous has its advantages. I'm speaking to an unseen audience and thusly can be freer in what I want to say. [note: what is the sound of one hand clapping?] I'm not interested in competing with everyone else on Blogger and elsewhere. This is a haven for me and random friends stopping along the way. Some inside jokes, some catching up with the news from my front, some thoughts that generally have no place in everyday conver.

It's also a good place to experiment with turns of phrase, such as "mortification, my soul is yours." My everyday speech is decidedly more pedestrian. Then again, I can't go around talking like a weird 19th century grunge refugee either.

awakening, part II

I'm now getting the itch to be outdoors, rather than indoors in a climate-controlled environment. Spending warm weekend afternoons lounging around the porch and backyard is contributing to my increasing flakiness. My eastward view looking over the Chicago River with representative buildings from every era - from the Lyric Opera building to the Sears Tower to shiny stainless and glass modern fare - doesn't help either.

I've never been much for the outside life. I am not a happy camper, literally; I prefer my nature bug-free and amenity-rich. Now I can sit in a swarm of gnats and not become too grossed out. Fat earthworms creeping slowly toward me is another matter entirely.

I'm even thinking about getting a bike (and those of you know me really well are thinking, "holy f***stacks! pang wants to get a bike!"), and I want one from these guys. Tell me that is not the best looking bunch o' bicycles you've ever seen. Give me the Townie in turquoise floral fade. And dang it, I want a basket in front.

omigod, omigod, OMIGOD!

In August I'm going to two cool concerts: Rufus Wainwright at Ravinia and Crowded House at the House of Blues. I've seen the latter maybe three or four times since the early '90s before they disbanded. Hot damn!

Now my project for the summer is to coerce someone(s) into going with me since I bought pairs o' tix and there's the looming chance that D-Money won't be interested in either. Campaign starting in three, two, one...now.

We're also getting a group of ex-co-workers-who-are-still-fast-friends together for Lyle Lovett and k.d. lang at Ravinia later this month. That'll be an interesting crowd, and we'll be part of it.

I am a music dork. I should wave the hipster card and go to Pitchfork like a proper indie Gen-Xer, but why be so predictable, right?

awakening

Since we moved to Chicago, I feel as though I'd been living in a period of dormancy insofar as writing and other creative pursuits go. Now that the kids are less dependent and I've found a cool, new group of friends who are invigorating and awesome in so many ways, the sleeper is awakening. For a month, I've been trying to write something, no matter how short, every day. The blog counts. I viewed my sad posting history; I'm going to surpass 2005 and 2006 with posts from 2007 alone! And it's neat to see the files piling up in their special folder on the hard drive.

I'm still working on the resolutions. Again, what is September going to bring? I need to get working on that time machine.

I'm getting good at this camera phone stuff.

mama and daughter ready for close-up,
originally uploaded by urban mama.

Today was a washout of a day in terms of social activities, so Zee and I walked down to the DQ for some icy cold goodness. I started messing around with the camera phone and took this groovy shot. I'm damn proud of myself. I wish I could've gotten more of her face, and less of mine, but still, not bad!

The DQ cone I got her was about as big as her head. It was allegedly a "small". Ha.

random moment no. 912

The minis having a "laughing party" - Zee's words - in the back seat of the station wagon during a supercraptastic commute home. I don't know what inspired the party, but I can report that there was chuckling, chortling, giggling, guffawing and full-on belly laughing.