Happy Goon Year!

At the end of my work day today, finishing up washing dishes at the sink, a fellow vendor said to all who were listening, "Happy New Year. May 2012 be better than the last year." Sure, it's always welcome if the next anything is better than the thing that came before it, but I said that I'd be positively overjoyed if 2012 stayed right on par with 2011. Heck, it'd probably still be cool if went a few notches lower; with the year that 2011 was, it can afford to. From what I've been hearing from friends and acquaintances, though, the past year wasn't kind and folks are ready to put it behind them. Not to gloat, but I have only the most pleasant of memories of the last year. I think it would do me good to reflect:

1. In February we upgraded to a nicer and larger apartment. It's not ideal, by any means, and we're still a tad snug in here, with scant kitchen space and natural light, but it's been an enormous improvement, nevertheless! And the wainscoting (which I plan to paint white sometime this year)...

2. We forked over way more money than we should've, but in the end we had all of our furniture and belongings out of our storage unit in Maine and back in our lives - hopefully for good.

3. Our Olive turned one. She immediately began walking, and finally, only two months ago, talking. It was a remarkable year watching this child develop and I always lay in bed looking forward to what the next day with her will bring.

4. I ran my third marathon and it was my best yet. I'll never be as fast or as committed a runner as I was in my younger days (committed, not fast), but I was pleased that after a child and weak training I could run 26.2 miles without too much trouble. I'll run my fourth in about five months.

5. Concerts! The live music we attended in a few short months made up for lost time during the years I was living in Maine. The Decemberists, Avett Brothers, Bright Eyes, Cirque du Soleil with Katrina (not quite a concert but in the same vein), Justin Townes Earle (along with Shovels & Rope), My Morning Jacket (with my Pop!), and Gillian Welch & Dave Rawlings made for a super entertaining spring through autumn.

6. Music Together. This program made such an impact on our already musical Olive. It's such a wonderfully warm, safe, and gleeful environment where she so obviously feels welcome. The winter session is about to start up again in mid-January and I'm eagerly waiting to see the strides she'll make this time around.

7. Rob began his stint at the National Aviary at the very beginning of last year. After six months of interning in the hospital there he was hired as a vet tech, a position which lasted six months. He was just renewed for another six months. Between that and interning and working at the zoo as an overnight educator, he's getting a lot of valuable experience that's been inching him up the Zookeepers' Ladder of Success. This arrangement also resulted in Olive spending her Sundays with her cousins, aunt, and uncle, a real treat for Olive and a huge favor for Rob and me.

8. New friends. True friends. The kind of friends who you'll still be friends with even when they move far away, because that's what friends do. Katrina, who was only in my life here in Pittsburgh for barely five months, is the real deal. Some people you have to take however you can get them because to not would be a real shame and an opportunity sorely missed. There are many more but she's the big one and the one who moved, but the one who'll never really get away.

9. A new Cramer family Christmas tradition. It was good. I thought I'd be nostalgic and weepy over not being with my original nuclear family this year, and I don't know if it was my groggy state of mind numbing me, but I wasn't. Not at all. It was wonderful to not feel swept up in the madness that accompanies an otherwise lovely time of year. Staying home, laying low, and reveling in all the gifts that we already have in abundance: this is what I think I can be very content doing at Christmas time.

10. We bought an olive oil stand! As outlandish as this is, it's probably the biggest change that the last year brought and will be an even bigger deal in the new year. It's a whole lot of work (I'm so thankful that Rob not only doesn't mind crunching numbers, he enjoys it. This will help keep me on track and always know where we are financially), but mostly it's fun. That's how any good job should be.

The one blight on 2011, the one thing I'd have gladly done without, was the September 21st (9/21, my own personal 9/11) disbanding of R.E.M., my longtime favorite band. My disappointment was quelled within hours of the news, however, their amicable split nursing my understanding of the decision. So even that wasn't all that bad.

So long, 2011, and thanks for the good times!

A Fun Visit with Friends

Ben and Rob's visit was enjoyable - particularly for a little girl. I've never seen her so taken with anyone, and she was doubly thrilled by the two newcomers (Ben she remembered, but Rob, with his dark, Lebanese complexion, was exotic and mesmerizing). I plucked her from her crib after they arrived and she stood in the doorway, delightedly taking in the gentlemen callers. She was lit up with their presence the entire time, staying up many hours later than normal to entertain her company, giddily bouncing on their beds and proudly saying their monosyllabic names. The five of us made our requisite trip to Nicky's Thai Kitchen and got all sorts of scrumptious curries and soups, and steamed vegetables and brown rice for Buggy. She ate a meager amount of these and only professed her desire for the rice once I'd thrown it in with my spicy meal. She thought it was oatmeal and couldn't understand why I wouldn't allow her to eat it (we did let her have some leftovers, however, in tiny, cautious doses just to get her acclimated to a little bit of heat). We had a failed attempt at a Razzy Fresh run on Tuesday night but the two locations that we tried were inexplicably closed. This was a major disappointment and hope that it was only because of the holiday week (perhaps they were figuring that, with their target audience of college students mostly away on break, it wasn't worth the effort). Another glitch has been my missing camera battery. It's always something with cameras and me. I'd left it to charge and my feeling is that Olive found it and made off with it, so it could be anywhere. I'm making due by using Rob's iPhone and our video camera, for which I finally got a working charger. It works wonderfully for taking video but its still shots in dimly lit rooms (like most cameras) leave much to be desired. This is why documentation from this week was blurry at best.

Today marked my first day working at the market as owner/operator. It wasn't much different from any other day, except this time I was calculating costs of rent, insurance, and other overhead. The cool part was being able to select some bottles that my dad requested as a gift for his friend Rob, and just mark them on my inventory sheet as having been taken, without having to pay for them - they're already mine. I had a far more successful day than I was anticipating, being open on an odd Thursday, a day we're not normally open, the first day open after the Christmas Binge, and it was exceptionally cold, a factor that can sometimes keep customers from coming in the door. Hopefully tomorrow will be extra busy with people coming in to gather goodies for their New Years festivities.

I arrived home this evening to Rob and Olive on the couch watching animal videos on his phone. He's been showing her cat footage on a somewhat regular basis for a while now and she realized today that she could request other animal "shows": "Iwanna see tapir", "Iwanna see owl", so he'd find a good video of whichever animal struck her fancy. Oh, that little girl is wonderful.

In Business

Yesterday I spoke too soon and rode out the remainder of the day with some residual flu nausea. Hardly any food for two days but now, with a pot of oatmeal and blueberries in my stomach, I'm back in the saddle. I'm busy doing multiple loads of laundry and preparing the house for some Maryland guests: Ben and his boyfriend, also named Rob (and shares my birthday), whom we've never met, so I'm very excited. There's so much more to be done this week, namely preparing for my first weekend as owner of Olio Fresca. I need to get myself to the bank to open an account, having decided to remain at the same bank for convenience, the fact that they're open on Saturdays, and I'd like to keep my business earnings separate from our family account just so things stay nice and neat. Then I need to link that account to the Square, the little smart phone attachment we've been using to accept credit card payments. It's really handy, but useless if the funds are being transferred into a nonexistent account. The business itself, all of the equipment that comprises the stand, has been paid for, just not the product, so I'm not by any means out of the hole. It'll be a few months, I imagine, before I start to make anything resembling a profit, but I'm looking forward to it. To make matters more exciting, I'll be toting Buggy in to work with me on Thursday and Friday since Rob had to pick up some more days at the aviary with much of the hospital staff being on vacation. Let's hope her demeanor, being cooped up in a Pack 'n Play without a proper nap, is such that people will be encouraged to buy and not the other way around.

Also, today is a special day because it's my father's birthday. He's the most wonderful man, and thankfully modeled to his kids what a good husband and father was, so my sister and I chose our husbands accordingly. He's kind, loving, patient, and calm, and never misses and opportunity to let his family know how much we mean to him. I'm sorry I'm not getting to spend the day with him, as I did for so many years, making the five-hour drive to my grandmother's house in North Carolina, happily singing along to the classic rock stations we'd tune into along the way, playing our game of naming the artist. I miss that today. What a terrific guy. I love you, Pop!

Sick Christmas Eve

I wish I could say I was using sick in the cool sense, but I was stricken down with the flu. I felt it coming on during the night and woke yesterday feeling mighty unpleasant. I showered, hoping that would put a spring in my step, to no avail. It was my last day as an employee at Olio Fresca and was looking forward to spending it with my wonderful bosses. Rob was encouraging me to stay home but I went in, feeling like if I powered through the queasy, achy feeling would disappear. During our first sale of the day I realized I'd left both the smart phone with the Square (the device with which we swipe credit cards) and the keys to one of the bank bags at home, so off I went, retrieved the items, and zipped back down to the market. I was visibly ill so Larry and Kim sent me back home. Olive was a little out of sorts herself, and I found her draped over Rob's arm, fast asleep in our bed. I climbed in and slipped into a sleep much longer than what it felt like and woke when Olive did. She lolled about sweetly but was very needy. Rob took her out of the room so I could get more rest and I slept for another four hours. I was thankful that my symptoms didn't include vomiting, but I'd only consumed a few grapes over the course of the day. I'd been a bit sad that we'd decided not to travel south to my parents' for Christmas this year - my first away from them - but I was glad to just be home in my state. Rob and I wound down the evening watching the eighth and final installment of The Beatles Anthology, a documentary we'd been watching most evenings. I've also been reading Wonderful Tonight: George Harrison, Eric Clapton, and Me, the autobiography of Pattie Boyd, the absolutely darling model who was married to both musicians, making them "husbands-in-law", as the two friends put it. By the time I was ready for bed I was feeling the sickness wearing off and woke up at nine o'clock this morning refreshed, rested, hungry, and completely well. Though I miss my family today, I'm feeling thankful for the exceptional quiet and calm in our house, my loving husband, and daughter who takes after him more and more with her loving sweetness.

The Baby Swiss Walk, Roulette, and Qanina!

The last week was pretty jam-packed. I'll start with the walk we took last week when Rob opted to take the day off from his internship at the zoo (such a treat since he and I so rarely have a coinciding day off). The weather was sunny so a walk was in order. Since time was a factor (I had to be at the Khoreys' later), we went only to the unofficial dog park near the end of our street rather than our usual walk to the main park. En route we found a 3 lb wheel of baby Swiss cheese, all wrapped up with a bow and everything. What a score! We scooped it up and kept going. There's an opening to the woods at the base of the hill and we proceeded to try out the trail which wound around the back of the King Estate, the $2,100,000 8-bedroom manor that's been on the market - and wallpapered in Bradbury & Bradbury, the company my great friend Bruce established years ago! I think we'll buy it when my olive oil ship comes in. The trail was wonderful - hilly, mysterious, and hardly a building in sight. A creepy-looking trestle bridge, which I loved, loomed off to the side. It's a really magical place. This is one of the hundreds of things I love about where we live. Of all the cities I've called home, Pittsburgh is filled with the most wonderfully wooded areas; the marriage of the forests and urban setting suits our family quite well, I think. This is definitely a place where we'll return often now that we know it's there.

Thursday night was the holiday party at the National Aviary. Nina kept Olive for us since drinking and gambling were going to be involved - no place for a babe. Rob and I were really just going for the food which was rumored to be quite good. We have no interest in alcohol and really none in gambling, but since door prizes, which included four Kindles that struck Rob's fancy, were to be awarded at the end of the event, we decided to sit in on some Roulette to earn chips to be traded for raffle tickets. Five minutes in I was itching to go back to our table and stuff my face with more of that incredible sweet potato-sage-and-walnut salad, but decided to buck up and be a sport for Rob's sake; my sweet had it bad for those Kindles. And wouldn't you know it? I hit some sort of stride and started cleaning up. Bigtime case of beginner's luck (but isn't Roulette about just that?). I won nearly every time, my red plastic cup nearly overflowing with chips (Rob ran out, but we more than broke even between the two of us). Unfortunately we did not go home with any of the Kindles but I won a sketchbook and a really rad box of Pittsburgh trivia cards and Rob got two tickets to a tour of one of the local furnaces (and an Orange Crush t-shirt that he'll give to Zoe. I almost was into it for the R.E.M. reference, but then thought better of it. Plus, she's really into men's t-shirts that are many sizes too large for her. I am not). Luckily we both are really into learning more about the history of where we live so we still came out on top...aside from my newfound gambling problem.

On Friday we were delighted to have our dear friend Katrina in for a visit. She's been in Boston since August, in her first semester of grad school at Tufts. How we've missed her. She joined us for quiche (made with broccoli, shiitakes, sun-dried tomatoes, artichoke hearts, and - what else? - the baby Swiss), butternut squash and pear soup, and several rounds of Bananagrams. Olive Christened her "Kanina", the spelling of which we changed to "Qanina" during the game while discussing q-without-u words. It's so nice to have old friends back, even for a short while. It felt like she'd never left. So all in all a pretty grand week!

My beautiful blue-eyed child

Always fascinated by a grate or manhole cover

A papa and his Buggy, the most precious things in my life

Rear view of the King Estate

Olive and Qanina, happily reunited

Berry, Buggy, Buck, Mills, Me

When two separate aspects of your life collide the results can be either disastrous or delightful. Today I enjoyed the latter.

While I was at work today I received a message that Buggy had been captivated by a little cd-sized book I'd picked up at a Tower Records in London (the only thing I saw fit to purchase while I was there, believe it or not). The little paperback mostly filled with text, so not a lot of imagery to hold her attention, which was the part that baffled Rob the most. She plucked it from the bookshelf and went to town, obviously drawn to some part of the book. After I got home I sat her down with a larger paperback biography filled with photographs (and a card in it from Gi-Gi with twenty dollars in it, to boot!), pointing out the members and saying their names. Shortly she was repeating most of their names - Michael Stipe, Peter Buck, and Bill Berry (this one was probably easiest as it sounds so much like blueberry. She also will point to him and say his name without any hints; it has to be the eyebrows). We're still working on Mike Mills, but I know she'll get there soon since she calls her uncle by that name, as well as her sock monkey, Monkey Mike (named for my late, great friend, Mike Snyder, a guy who loved a good sock monkey). For whatever reason she has a real interest in my favorite band, whether she knows that or not. This is one of the many things that makes raising a child so amazing. I'm feeling inspired to write and illustrate a children's book about R.E.M.. Mom, you can hold me to this task. There may or may not be a market for this sort of thing, but it would probably be the most enjoyable project I could ever do, and I have a feeling I know just the girl who'd want to read it.

Christmas Time

This time of year, by nature, is especially busy. I don't feel like I'm doing much to further that, but I'm barely finding time to update the blog. Though I love this time of year, I really don't do any decorating of my own, but I love when lights around the city start going up, and maybe I inherited this from my dad, but I adore the sound of Christmas carols, even when they're played prematurely in November. We're not particularly big on gifts, for economical reasons as well as the fact that I don't love that Christmas has become such a secular holiday. Rob reminds me of this when I mention how odd it would be if I got Hannukah presents, lit a menorah, and got all dreidel-happy this time of year, especially since I do not embrace the Jewish faith. Since the true meaning of Christmas seems to be all but lost on much of the mainstream - shunned or ridiculed, even - I prefer to keep our Christmases light on the frills and our budget uncompromised so that Olive can avoid being caught up in the "All I Want for Christmas" mentality that turns so many children into, well, you know. She may resent us for it one day, but she's still happily unaware of her entitlement (ha!).

There are paintings being done and more yet to finish and do, most of which are not Christmas gifts. Like this one I did for my friend Bryan, who will be embarking on Valentine's Day for a transatlantic row.

This will be auctioned off for a fundraiser for his trip to benefit veterans. Over the last four years I've become Bryan's personal artist, a role which I'm proud to fill. I've decided, too, to do some little paintings to put up in my stand - some little marketable pieces to help promote my art. For now I'm going to make them relevant to the business - olive grove landscapes mostly, then get some feedback from customers to see what other subjects might be an easy sales.

It's Business Time

This morning I attended a small business workshop put on the the Pittsburgh chapter of SCORE. I was treated to four hours in an underheated (a clever ploy to keep us alert and awake, perhaps) classroom in the downtown YMCA, listening to presentations by gentlemen who are seasoned experts in the fields of marketing, litigation, taxes, and business planning. If I thought I'd be spending my Saturday morning doing such a thing about a month ago I would've scoffed at such a notion; right-brainers like myself have no business learning about cash flow Excel spreadsheets or debating whether or not to become an LLC - or do they? The fact is, these are the things I'd prefer to not think about, but I knew that it would be in my best interest to get as much coaching on the minutiae of running a small business as possible. Just a few weeks ago my boss-buddy, Larry, approached me with the idea of turning over his business to me. He wanted to scale down and be strictly an olive oil wholesaler. On the day he asked me I all but declined, but over the next couple of days the wheels began spinning in my head. I talked to Rob (who reminded me that our last name literally means "shopkeeper), he ran numbers: there seems to be little risk. Initially I thought of opening a storefront, something in which my customers have expressed interest for well over a year in supporting. I registered for the workshop, which was every bit as informative and comprehensive as the website promised, developed a Facebook page for the business, and am slowly scouting spaces for the eventual shop. In the meantime, however, I'll be able to transition into owning and running the business that I've been managing for the better part of a year while remaining in the familiar space at the Public Market. I'll ride out the winter there (which will be a struggle itself if last year was any indication), or longer if need be, until I'm ready and the ideal space is available. It's so interesting to me how, what began as a job I took in desperation when I wasn't finding work even as a telemarketer (though I knew when I first read the ad on Craigslist then went and met Larry and Kim, both of whom are now more like family than employers, that I'd be happy working there, at least for the short-term) grew into something I sort of adopted as my own and has suddenly ballooned into me owning a company. My ownership will go into effect December 26th, my Pop's birthday. When the store comes to fruition I will need a name; for the sake of ease and continuity at the market I'll keep the same name, Olio Fresca. The right name hasn't hit me yet, though I'm worried about using the word "Olive" for obvious reasons. Any thoughts?

From the Mouth of a Goon

Inspired by my sister's growing list of things that that sweetiedoll Iris (my youngest niece and Olive's favored playmate) is saying lately, I'm going to compile my own for Olive to date (she was a late bloomer as far as talking goes, so these things are big news to us still):

I'us (Iris)

Ahguh (Abigail)

Djack (Jack)

Kell

Mimi

Pop Pop

moose

mouse

horse

house

deer

b'fy (butterfly)

boot

shoe

sock

dog

jeans

coat

juice

apple

nurse

owl

stick

waddie (water)

mole

Pappa/Pappas

Mamma/Mammas (she'll sometimes pluralize these for reasons unknown. It's adorable and makes her name for Rob sound Greek)

Neen (what I call Nina)

Ayux (Alex)

Noh (Noah)

Doug

Cheeyos

beebee (baby)

pie

potato

pamamas (pajamas)

soup

cackie (cracker)

ohmeah (oatmeal)

Tistie (Thirstie - her diaper cover)

yeaf (leaf)

book

fox

piggie

ki'i (kiwi)

cwock (clock)

yogi (yogurt)

nucky (monkey)

'innow (window)

Buggy

Ahma come up (signifying her desire to climb up onto the couch or bed to be with us)

Come on

Bye-bye (to Papa, Mamma, shoes, 'arry, Kim, etc.)

Nuh-night

And my favorite word of all was inspired by Richard Scarry: the green-suited pig who is forever chasing his wind-swept hat, Mr. Frumble. To Olive he is simply a garbled Fhrummew. She can't be bothered with proper titles.

Fenksday Residue

Just out taking in the sights at Chancellorsville Battlefield (a few miles up the road from our hosts). We Cramer gals have a real penchant for Civil War history.
Questioning whether these very rocks could've seen the boot soles of Generals Lee or Hooker. Perhaps, sweet child.
Joining the menfolk on a walk around the property in the balmy November sun while waiting for the grand meal

First of all, I find it difficult to say or write "Thanksgiving" most of the time, thanks to a game of Balderdash that took place (whoa) nearly ten years ago. "Fenks" was a word that we had to define and Kellie and I found it very funny and we've used it regularly ever since. Fenksday has replaced Thanksgiving, though the Michael sisters are no less thankful for everything we have. Now that that's cleared up, I found some leftover pictures I'd taken on our trip last week that had not yet been loaded onto my laptop. This video delights me each time I view it, though I must apologize to Jeff and Amy for sitting by and allowing my child to torment their boxers, Sura and Max. Olive was in heaven.

The Wednesday Before Thanksgiving

I managed to get the week (Monday though Friday) off so that our family could travel down south. I loaded up the car on Monday, picked up Rob from the aviary and zoomed down to Maryland to get in some time with Mimi and Pop Pop. On our way there we told Buggy who we were going to see, not thinking that she'd attach the names to their faces, but sure enough, once we walked in the door and she saw my mother, "Mimi" was the first thing she said. Same for my dad when he got home later that night. We had a delightful - though very brief - visit and then departed for Fredericksburg, Virginia, where Rob's longtime friend Jeff lives with his fiancé, Amy. It took us longer to reach the normally 90 minute-long destination than it did to get from Pittsburgh to Mt. Airy (we did that in 3.75 hours when it usually takes us 4). Still, Buggy was in pleasant mood, entertaining herself with Richard Scarry books, and Rob was the exceptional travel partner that he always is, so the traffic outside of DC and along 95 wasn't as unbearable as it could be.

Buggy stayed up several hours past her bedtime last night, wired with glee from being freed from her car seat. After putting her to bed, Rob, Jeff, Amy, and I gathered round the table for several hours of Bananagrams. Such fun! I turned in at 11:30, tucking in with my newest read:Olive Oil: From Tree to Table, by Peggy Knickerbocker. It's fascinating and is filling in a lot of the gaps I had in my oil knowledge. I feel so much better equipped with information and can now pass on more intriguing tidbits to my customers. Rob and Jeff sat out on the front porch talking, and their voices, a few feet outside my window, kept me awake after I'd turned out the light. I'd fallen asleep before Rob came in at 2, but not long before. Olive woke at 7, so I woke at 7. And then I completely misunderstood the plans. Rob's brother and sister-in-law, Rhett and Amanda, were flying in from Connecticut and Jeff, Rob, Olive, and I were going to drive up to DC to pick them up at the airport and, from what I'd understood, spend a little time in the city. I was delirious from fatigue and Olive hadn't taken a morning nap, so staying behind seemed the wiser choice. However, the District beckoned, so Olive and I left shortly after Jeff and Rob. The traffic going up 95 was atrocious, as I knew it'd be. We met up with Jeff and Rob at the airport; Rob got in with us and Rhett and Amanda got in with Jeff. I followed, not sure of our destination, until Rob said he was just going back home. Mind you, it took nearly two hours to get from the house to the airport, and the attractions of the nation's capital were within view. There was no way I'd driven in sluggish traffic just to witness and airport pickup and drive back to the house (which reportedly took them three and a half hours). Rob was down for some enrichment so our first stop was Ah Love Oil & Vinegar in Arlington, VA. I'd heard of this shop and was curious to check out its wares and see how they compared to ours. We sampled a few of their balsamics (our traditional is better) and infused oils and all of the monovarietals, but none of them excited me much. Our next stop was my favorite destination in Washington:Dolcezza. They have a good selection of dairy-free sorbettos so we got Olive a cup of the cranberry apple cider flavor. Rob and I went the more decadent route with thai coconut milk, salted caramel, and chocolate peanut butter (Rob) and valhrona chocolate amargo (a dense, dark chocolate for me). We savored our treats then, to make the most of our visit and to try to avoid some of the anticipated traffic, we meandered through Northwest before finally stumbling upon the National Museum of Natural History. We wanted Buggy to see the dinosaur and mammal exhibits in particular, the latter of which I hadn't seen before. It was pretty spectacular and just as good as a zoo in many ways. Go see it if you haven't.

Getting her first taste of Dolcezza

Fascinated by the fish at the museum

Coming face-to-face with some life-like owls
The sunset was exquisite as we left Washington

A spent goon

Reading a Book, Singing a Song

I've got to hand it to her - she really can entertain herself. The song she sings sounds a lot like "Walking Through the Woods on a Cloudy Day", a song we sing at Music Together and is one she can be heard singing often. I had to abort filming because she was showing no signs of stopping (she went on for another six minutes).

A Very Special Day at the Zoo

This was probably the sweetest zoo trip ever for our family, and just when I think Rob can't do more to impress me and remind me of why I chose him, we have a morning like this one. Olive was in rare form, in desperate need of a nap, and burst into tears each time I prevented her from following a zoo employee through a closing door, getting nose-to-nose with Cliff, the alligator, reaching out to pet Penelope, the porcupine, or poking her fingers inside the cage of a snap-happy owl (with a bloody and beheaded mouse at its feet, no less). But no matter. This trip was meant specifically for Jack. Kellie sums it up best in her thoughtful and witty blog post. For the full story complete with photographs of our privileged tour, wander over to her site (and take a look at some of her adorable knits. When I complimented Jack on his store-bought vest this morning and asked to borrow it, he suggested I make my own. I could hardly blame him; his wonder of a mother makes - or can make - practically anything).

And it goes without saying that I'd like my own pet kinkajou now.

Beautiful November

Until this year November wasn't one of my favorite months. I've always remembered it as being brown, dreary, chilly, and a threat of the coming winter, with the few bright spots being Thanksgiving and my mother's birthday. This November, however, has been glorious. Already over a third of the way through the months, we've enjoyed mostly sunny and warmer than usual days with the fall leaves peaking. I have to say that I was disappointed with the color in October, the month when things usually are at their most beautiful, so I was in for a belated treat this last week. The golden hues have been breathtaking but I was unable to capture anything. Alas, we are still without a standard camera, but I ordered a charger for our video camera so I'll be using that to take still shots as well for the foreseeable future.

Buggy has been a sweet. Bigtime. Nothing much new there. She continues to babble regularly, and one of her new games is identifying all of the moles she can find on me and saying, "mmmmooowl". She loves drinking juice with Rob and me and downing chunk after chunk of skin-on sweet potato (she can almost say this) with spinach. She's definitely not one to turn up her nose at vegetables. She confuses us with her standard response: "No." We have to read her other signs to determine the real answer. If the no means yes, it's usually accompanied by a giggle, or sometimes I can answer myself. A true no comes with a troubled tone and expression, often with fidgeting hands. I feel like she understands the word yes; she's used it in the past to convey an affirmative response, and when playing finding games like, "Where's ____", she will point to the object and say, "Yeaaaah" with such satisfaction that my heart melts into a little puddle. She'll get it one of these days.

Yoga Wednesday

I believe tonight was the first time I'd done yoga since I was pregnant. It'd been on my list of things to start doing again, particularly with my severe back pain back for a visit, but it kept eluding me. Thankfully Nina had expressed an interest in improving her flexibility so I looked into a yoga class she and I could attend together. And wouldn't you know, that Union Project, our next-door community mecca, holds pay-what-you-can drop-in classes every Wednesday evening, so we checked it out. I feel a bit silly having lived just yards away from this place for over a year and never taking advantages of its offerings until just this week. The class was great, and was also the first actual class I'd ever attended. In college my sister and I enjoyed ourselves some power yoga with Rodney Yi on VHS, the Hawaiian waves crashing in the background, Yi's calming voice guiding us through the poses, but there's something to be said about being in the atrium of a church with nine or ten other practicers to really help you get in touch. What I am seeking is, like Nina, more flexibility, as well as assistance for my temperamental lower back. Extra strength is always welcome too, of course, but I feel like that's one area where I can honestly say that I feel pretty good. On my first attempt I was able to execute and sustain a crow or crane pose. This feat made up for my lack of grace with the hula hoop last night. I'm looking forward to these back-to-back nights of group physical activity with Nina each week, and getting back into my running with my British pal, Catherine tomorrow. I'll also be taking my brand new Mizunas out on their maiden run. I got them on Monday having done a lot of research on the best shoes for back troubles, so I'm excited to experience a run in shoes with more support than I've had before.

Oh, and Buggy's eye? She looks rough, but as a grandmother at Music Together pointed out this morning as Olive and I dismounted our bike, "When kids look like that it means that they're really living." This is true. I'm sure she'll be out for more hula hooping next week.

Her First Shiner

Still without camera (Rob will take some shots with his iPhone tomorrow), I was unable to capture the painful sight of a little girl with a bruised left eye. Nina and I took her to the Tuesday night hula hoop group that gathers on the lawn between our house and the Union Project which amused her greatly. There were just as many young children as adults, and Buggy was mesmerized by the sea of hoopers with colorful metallic-taped - and some with lights! - hula hoops. More than those, though, she was engrossed in a rock hunt, plucking little pebbles from the dirt caked in the sidewalk. Rocks have recently become a big love of hers that started on a walk we took a month ago to the zoo: on one stretch of the road large rocks are placed on the grass between the sidewalk and street and it was on this walk that she needed to visit each individual rock and touch it gently, saying, "Hi, rock!" Anyway, tonight she was happy to dig up rocks and share with Nina and me her findings - a tricky task given the obstacle of the hoops. At one point Nina didn't see her coming and Buggy caught an eyeful. Bad. I couldn't tell in the low light just how or where she'd been hit, but I scooped her up and brought her back home to Rob. When I returned a little while later after having taken Nina back home, I saw a that the hoop had, indeed, clocked her square in the peeper, or just below, and there was plenty of redness and swelling. I dabbed a little arnica ointment on it over her howls, hoping that it would reduce the puffiness enough to keep her out of the state's custody. I worry a little about bringing her to Music Together tomorrow morning; she's always the most beat-up looking of the tots there, as she won't leave her scabs alone so little wounds not only don't heal quickly but are made worse by her picking. Besides, how credible a story is getting hit by a hula hoop?

Letter Learner

I lost my camera last week. I'm sick. The last place I remember having it was at the zoo (it hasn't turned up in their lost & found), and I jumped for it last night when we found Buggy at the refrigerator door naming the letter magnets - most of them correctly (T, O, C, etc.). It was pretty great. I'm working on replacing the camera with a Lumix I found on craigslist because we really can't go a full week without one, especially with all that Olive's been doing lately.

Chatty Video Clips

These videos were taken this evening and showcase her constantly-expanding speech. The quality is poor but the sweetness makes up for it, I like to think. Rob and I enjoy watching and reliving these moments after Goongirl has gone to bed.

20 months

It pains me to think that our girl is a short four months away from turning two, a number that is beginning to sound terrifyingly old, very unbabylike. But oh, what a dear, sweet, silly joy she is! The last week has seen a flurry of new vocabulary as she's catching on and repeating the words she hears us say. Owl (and the hooos that go with it), all done, nigh-night, pumpkin, vacuum, nurse, Buggy, and Olive are some of the things that she's enjoying saying lately. Yesterday she showed a blatant preference for me getting her out of her crib; Rob went in to get her when we first woke up while I was in the bathroom and she withdrew, peering around to the glow of the bathroom light. While no fan of being favored over Rob, I still found it kind of sweet. She's also taken to clinging to my legs and grinning up at me. I absolutely love this. And the hugging. How I live for those sweet hugs. Being a mother to this amazing child could not be more wonderful.

Our goon sporting the most luscious of Van Dyke juice goatees. She can't get enough of the stuff (shown here: kale, parsley, ginger, carrot, celery, lemon, and apple).

There and Back Again in 33 Hours

Yesterday Buggy and I headed south so that I could attend the wedding of an old friend in Arlington, Virginia. My dear friend Sam, who lives in nearby Falls Church, graciously volunteered to watch Olive for me while I attended the ceremony (being that I didn't know anyone else there and went without a plus one, the ceremony alone sufficed). It's always great to see Sam, her husband Howard, and their precious little egg of a son, Grant. Howard's mother, Carolyn, was visiting from North Carolina, and they gave Olive the stuffed tapir Carolyn had given Grant, but he'd shown no interest and Olive had. He is a very welcome addition to our family for sure.

We arrived at my parents' house early enough to let Olive visit with Mimi and Pop Pop for a while before she went to bed. She delights in the wonders of their home - particularly a duo of elves at an antique toy piano that my mom made some years ago. It's pretty magical, actually, even to an adult, so I can only imagine the fascination it evokes in someone her age. On this visit, however, she seemed more perturbed at the elf sitting on the bench (the other one is posed in song perched atop the piano itself) with his hands crowding the keyboard. Being the avid pianist she is, she didn't take kindly to him not leaving enough room for her hands. We worry that she'll cause some harm one of these days so my mom will have to remember to stash these two away the next time we come to call.

Another source of immense pleasure for my gal was Jo, my brother Taylor's cat. She took to calling out the name, "Kitty", while we were there. She was also greatly amused by the double staircases, the climbing of which was facilitated by handy banisters and carpeting. That girl is quite fond of her silly grandparents, too; we're going to have to make an effort to get down to visit them more often.

My folks had to leave for work the next morning before we awoke, but we were able to get in some more time with Tay, Kitty, and her great-grandparents who live downstairs. And then Ben, or course. No Maryland visit is complete without seeing our beloved buddy, whom met for breakfast at Café Nola in downtown Frederick where Ben and I met for tea - our first outing together - over three years ago. The two of them have a pretty special relationship and it's sweet to see each of them light up when the other is around. After breakfast it was back on the road to Pittsburgh, the bright mid-Autumn sun beaming down all the way home.

It's blurry, but this is one of my favorite shots.

When I'm in Frederick I like to drive past Gi-Gi's house. Alice doesn't live here anymore, as they say, but to me she always will.

Those Sweet Kids of Mine

Well wouldn't you know it - those Khorey kids threw me the best birthday party I've had since I turned eighteen. It may've been the only birthday party, but the thought that went into it was impressive. The older two gave me a bit of a scare when they arrived home thirty minutes late (Obama was in town and caused horrendous traffic jams), and Nina seemed eager to have Alex home. While having a snack I mentioned to her about Rob's birthday being tomorrow and she remembered: "Aren't your birthdays close? Did I miss yours?" Yes, but I told her not to worry about it. She then told me that I could pretend to forget about his birthday and then celebrate, and that I'd understand later. Alex arrived and seemed especially peppy. He asked me to come outside because he wanted to show me something he'd found, then led me to some interesting fungi that was spreading beneath a tree in their front yard. When he started babbling about a bees' nest somewhere else I started to think something was up. We headed back indoors and Nina summoned me into the dining room to help her with her homework. There on the table was not her homework but a cake and a large gift bag. They'd all planned it out well ahead of time. Nina rummaged through drawers to find a candle, sat me down at the head of the table, turned out the light, then stood at the ready with a camera to capture the moment I blew out the flame after they sang for me. This girl knows how to do birthdays. We passed around plates and ate half of the cake that she'd baked herself between the four of us. Nina gathered the gift and the three cards that each had made for me and moved us to the living room where I sat to open the package. Alex had been eager to hint at the contents: "What's your favorite store?", he prodded. "Walmart", I told him, just to throw him off. I lifted out a beautiful ivory box and unwound the cord that held it together. Inside was an unusual and completely gorgeous trench coat-dress. I've never seen anything like it and that's what I love so much about it. The thing about me is that I like what I like, and perhaps a bit too much, because most of what I have is so much like other things I also have. But this coat is perfect in that it appeals to my aesthetic without resembling anything else I own. And it will look grand with my new flowered boots I found on eBay last month. It's nice when people know me well enough to pick out a great gift - especially as picky as I am. Here's a hint:

Thirty?

Yesterday I celebrated my 30th birthday. My birthdays have passed without much fanfare for the past nine or so years, which is okay by me, and this was no different, really. We decided to go out to a nice dinner, though, to Eden, a brand new restaurant in Shadyside that specializes in local raw vegan fare. The food was right up my alley: beet-carrot-cumber and apple-pear-ginger juices, a beet and apple salad with lemon, mint, and cinnamon, and our entrées, pad thai for Rob and kale and mushroom pizza for me, followed up by Rob's pumpkin pie and my bosc pear sorbet. The evening was warm so we dined outside on the sunken patio. Buggy was making quite a mess of the salad and juices she was sampling so we dispensed with her dress and she amused herself with her napkin as an accessory. She was unusually grumpy for much of the evening but I caught her on camera during her silly spells (there was no middle ground with her last night).

I ushered in 30 in the most pleasant of ways, eating delicious food with my two favorite people in the world (all of the runners up I spoke to on the telephone), then relaxed back at home with a bowl of popcorn and an episode of Boardwalk Empire with a sweet guy by my side and a sweet gal in her crib. I think this will be my best decade yet.

Success!

After one more evening of painting the fully-erected mural on Saturday evening I got it to a place where I felt comfortable showing it to the public. Just a little color blending at the seams, painting over the Spackle I'd put over the screws, and filling in a few still-neglected areas was all it took. The sense of relief and lifting I experienced when walking out to my car at 8:15 was divine. I could go home and not feel pressured to head back to the studio apartment to paint during my free time. I could finally be home in the evenings again to put Olive to bed. It had been days since I'd done that and I was really starting to feel like the mother who works far too often and misses out on the little milestones in her child's life. Rob had been reporting to me the many words she'd been saying to him last week - none of which I've heard yet - so I really felt that much more removed from my family and life. She now can say new words like "hand", "doggy", and "toad", though I've also heard her say a pretty good "water".

Yesterday the church had the dedication of the mural. It was done in memory of two members, now deceased, Mary and Dwight Brown, whose daughter and husband came in to town just for the occasion. Rob and I were able to skip out of work to attend and we showed up as the pastor was leading a prayer and introducing the crowd gathered outside the room. They were all very pleased and I received so many wonderful compliments and praise for it. Many were under the impression that I'd done a small painting and were blown away when they saw that it spanned the entire wall. When I stepped away from it to see what they were seeing I agreed; the colors were beautiful and it's a great mural for the space. Children will love it.

My favorite part of the piece, the pair of foxes that were so effortless to paint, yet more successful than many of the other animals, I thought. Perhaps this will lead to a fox mural in Olive's bedroom.

The Beast

This thing has been hanging over my head since the beginning of June and I'm about to wash my hands of it at long last. I had the foresight a few weeks ago to hire someone to assist in the installation when I realized that Rob and I could not do it alone. I'm a little bit proud to say that, aside from being the supportive, loving, and helpful man that he is and tying the panels to the top of our car and making a number of trips to the church, Alina and I did it ourselves. Yup, Alina. Rob questioned my choice when I hired the only female applicant, but her twenty-plus years of curatorial experience spoke to me. The moment we met earlier this week I knew I had made the right decision. There was no way on earth I would've gotten it done without this little trooper's help. She is tiny. I, at 5'4 1/2", towered over her. Anyway, the lady knows her way around with the power tools, was filled with wisdom, and makes sure she does her job the right way. We finished in two sessions, yesterday logging eight hours hefting those heavy-as-lead MDF panels up and down the ladder while the church staff would periodically peer in on our progress. I learned a lot. For instance, just because it's a wall does not indicate that the line is straight, much in the same that I'd be a fool to assume that my boards were also cut straight (not that the guy who did the cutting inspired much confidence in me in the first place). It's usually going to be a lose-lose situation whenever you're not both designing and erecting the building and cutting your boards in your own shop. We ended up doing a lot of remeasuring, cutting, tilting, leaning, and faking the boards to fit the space. The mural is wonky, but that's okay. Such is the nature of things when you're not painting directly on the surface, which is exactly what I plan to do the next time I get involved with a project like this. Maybe when Olive is all grown up and I get tired of hanging out with Rob. In other words, probably not too soon.

Diaper Story

Real quick:

Today while making our weekly eBay ship-off at the post office (by the way, it's amazing what people will buy from you on that incredible site), the clerk, looking down at Buggy who was holding my hand, made this comment: "You're lucky you get to use Pampers and not diapers." HA! "Oh, sir," I began, "I do use diapers." He looked at me like I'd just told him that the package he'd just checked in for me contained Anthrax. "Does it cost you less money?" (probably assuming that I used a diaper service) "Sure. I wash each of them myself and don't really have to buy new ones." This was big news to this man. He said he remembered having to rinse out his baby brother's when he was a boy, and was probably thinking how times, blessedly, had changed, and there I was telling him that I was scraping and rinsing my own dear child's diapers each and every day of my own will! I guess it is one of those things that, when not used to it, cause many folks to turn up their noses in mild (or severe) disgust, but for me it gives me a tingling rush of excitement when I toss another soiled nappy into the bin or when I'm folding all the clean ones, all fluffy and warm from the dryer and thinking of all the chemicals and chlorine and Disney characters we're not putting on her bum. That and all the money we save by choosing cloth, but I wasn't going to go into all of that with the gentleman behind the counter.

Schelly!

To help gloss over my recent loss we had a visit from Rob's eldest sister, Schelly. I like Schelly, and not just because she's Rob's family member I know the best. She's an artist, she's smart, she's funny, and she really loves her brother. She also doesn't want to be that aunt of Olive's who lives in Alaska and never sees, so she pays her expat family a visit whenever she and her husband, Tim, travel east. Her stay was short but very enjoyable, filled mostly with lively conversation (she and Rob often talk of their family, their childhoods - she's six years older - and their father) and punctuated with several nice meals (Salt of the Earth. Wow.), a tour of the National Aviary, and Bananagrams. Rob and I declared Olive an FAS baby (Full-a-Sweet, not the Fetal Alcohol Syndrome baby topic that had spurred this in the first place) while Schelly was here; she was particularly lovable and instantly warmed to her aunt, bumbling into her bedroom to wake her in the mornings, learning to say "cow" in response to the cow-shaped humidifier, and being captivated by Schelly's candy-colored pink purse and the wonders inside (especially the little compact mirror). We are looking forward to Schelly's next Pittsburgh trip, when she'll hopefully have Tim and her son, Zac, in tow for a more extended stay.

My Full-A-Sweets

Olive enjoying her brunch at Pamela's Diner in the Strip: toast, a bowl of strawberries and bananas, tomato slices, and an egg white and vegetable omelette.

Schelly's scallops at Salt of the Earth. That frothy stuff is saffron foam.

I got the tofu dish - I can't pass up tofu, and yuba (tofu "skin") was on the menu, served over popcorn grits and dotted with a huitlocoche sauce (it's a mushroom that grows in corn. Who knew?)

And Rob got the squab. Squab is a farm-rasied pigeon and very good to eat.

And THIS was my dessert: Berry pretzel jello. Mesquite-herbed cream cheese at the base sprinkled with crushed pretzels and topped with local golden raspberries and huckleberries. Unbelievably good.

Schelly's got the Swiss Maiden dessert, finely shaved Swiss Maiden raw cowsmilk cheese topped with bull's blood microgreens all over a line of almonds, apricots, and maple.

Rob's s'mores may've taken the cake. Rich chocolate patties with the texture of flan, a scoop of maple ice cream, toasted marshmallow, crushed Golden Graham cereal and elderberries with orange zest curls. It was stunning, really. Go to this place if you ever get the chance.