High-5

This is a time where Olive is picking up a lot of information quickly and responding to it with a greater degree of understanding. Though I was not here to witness this particular milestone, Olive said "cracker" over the weekend while I was either at work or teetering atop a 5-gallon bucket erecting deer fencing for our garden. I'm sure she'll utter the word again in my presence, though she hasn't yet. Sunday was fun because I tried teacher how to give a high-five in between shoveling spoonfuls of oatmeal into her mouth. She caught on with much fervor so now whenever a palm is raised she goes for it. Even better: she will grab an idle hand and place it in the appropriate stance for receiving her newly-learned hand gesture. She gets it. Rob is fond of sitting with her and a book in his lap - usually a Richard Scarry work, rife with busy and amusing imagery - and saying, "Where, where, where is the bug?" and waiting for her to point to the bug or whatever article he's chosen, and usually she will comply. Today she pointed to the donkey, shoe, rabbit, and bread I'd asked her to show me. Amazing.

Summer Resolutions

Having just crossed off a major art project on my ever-growing list, I feel a lightness that I haven't felt in years. I can now guiltlessly proceed onto other endeavors whose fun hasn't yet been leeched by the sheer length of time in which they've been on that list. This is going here on my blog in an effort to keep me focused and accountable. Here goes:

1. Noah's Ark mural for the 3rd Presbyterian Church in Shadyside. Olive and I went and purchased $148 worth of gesso and paint for it today, and I've been given access to our old apartment to use as a studio.

2. The five "pay it forward" pieces I volunteered to do as part of a Facebook-fueled act of goodwill that was going round at the beginning of the year. I no longer spend much time on FB, thank goodness, but I've got to honor my promise to create and dole out five paintings to friends and friendly acquaintances. I should've written down all of the recipients because I'm not entirely sure of who they are anymore. Actually, I think four out of five of them are in Maine. Fortunately I have until the end of the year to do this.

3. Train for marathon #4 in October. I did a pretty lousy job of readying myself for the last one but feel like I've already adopted a more sensible regimen this month that should hopefully result in my best time. This is not of utmost import, mind you; as long as I feel as good as I did after the last one I'll be happy. Plus I'll be running on the home turf - always and added bonus.

4. Do a painting of my child. I've done ballpoint pen sketches of her numerous times and even lovingly labored for a week or two on this little number (the water-damaged sheet of Clayboard makes it unfit for professional use). I have a website coming out very soon and would like for the homepage to feature - at the wise suggestion of my boss, Larry - a portrait of the goon-girl.

5. Use my grandfather's sewing machine. I was given my grandfather's old machine that was used but once - to fashion some window treatments for his van. I love telling people this. Nina is attending a Sew Your Own Clothes camp next month at a nearby sewing studio and I'm eager to learn from her.

6. Reap the fruits of our garden. Beyond the bumper crop of mulberries from the tree there, a single green bean, and some lovely-looking radishes (I wish I didn't dislike them, but I do), there's not a whole lot going on - yet.

7. Work harder on keeping our house clean. I've hit a point in my life where I have a much lower tolerance for clutter and messiness. And filth. The cats appear to be going nowhere so I'm prepared to work around them, but that does not help us with our ant problem. For the past month or so, if the slightest trace remains of anything appealing to an ant, the countertops and floors will be swarming with them. Though we've been scrupulous about wiping down all surfaces with white vinegar, they still find reasons to flock. If they force us to stay vigilant about our housekeeping habits, I guess I shouldn't really look at that as a bad thing.

8. Successfully toilet train the cats. This item requires no further elaboration.

9. Save my pennies for a birthday bike. Since Olive is now of bike-riding age, we've noticed the need to up our family's bicycle count by one. I think it'd be nice to have a family bike and a commuter bike since I am all for biking to work - biking anywhere possible, for that matter. On several recent trips to the Trek store this beaut caught my eye and has been speaking to me, rather loudly, ever since. The Atwood is part of the the company's new Eco line and uses all recycled materials. This was good to know, because I was sold on it based on aesthetics alone. That slate blue frame and white rubber tires made me swoon. Next time I'm taking her for a test ride and if, for some fortunate reason, I have $500 to spare, it's going towards an early birthday gift to Rob and me.

10. Continue my fight to keep skin cancer and signs of age at bay. This may be vain of me, but I like the fact that I look a little bit younger than a lot of women my age that I've seen. While it's true that I'm all for not getting skin cancer, or cancer of any sort, it helps that protecting your skin will also reward you by having nicer skin than your tanning bed-and-cigarette-loving contemporaries. This summer I haven't left home without my wide-brimmed sun hat and large-framed vintage sunglasses that my great-grandmother gave me. Oh, and a hefty smear of SPF 30.

11. Go see Gillian Welch perform at the Strathmore in Bethesda, MD. I haven't seen her live since April '04 when I drove down to see her in Asheville. That had capped off a good run of seeing her nine times between 2003 and 2004 and I've suffered during the dry spell. She's releasing a new album at the end of the month and I'm excited to hear them play the new cuts. Whether or not I can make it is another question.

12. Go all Michelle Pfeiffer and deliver no nonsense tough love to a bunch of delinquent students. What's this? I'm going to be teaching art twice a week to inmates at the Allegheny County Jail. Pending my background check and official interview to be held sometime next week, I'm in the system. That I taught on an Indian reservation was my meal ticket; Rob's take on it: "Well, you already have experience teaching future criminals." True 'nuff.

13. Play a little more guitar. I've gotten away from it since Olive came to call, but it's nice to make time to make some music every now and then.

14. Successfully brew my own kombucha. A few quarts are fermenting on the kitchen counter right this moment. I just hope it'll be palatable.

15. Fill our wedding album. I've had the album itself - a gorgeous white leather-bound tome that was handmade in Latvia by a woman named Inga - for two years and had prints made several months ago. The only thing stopping me from placing them on the pages are the little corner tabs I can't seem to bring myself to buy. I'd do it next year but it might be nice to take on a simple task when some of the others are a little more daunting. Plus, Olive may one day enjoy leafing through the pages. Time to get on that.

Gals' Trip to Alpine Lake

Zoe surprised me by accepting my last-minute invitation to accompany Olive and me to my parents' Shangri-La-like rural lake retreat in Terra Alta, West Virginia. I had been eagerly awaiting my little vacation to reward my long-awaited completion of illustrations for Sage, The Sea Lion Who Lost Her Roar, the second book I'd done for a Boston accountant-author. I'd been working on this one for over two and a half years. It turned out pretty well, though, if I do say so myself, and I feel like I finally hit my stride as an illustrator. This little nook of the Mountain State has some of the most breathtaking scenery I've ever seen. Alaska's mountains have nothing on the green, lush beauty that abounds in this place. If there weren't so few job opportunities and little to do for the under-sixty-five set, I'd be pretty keen on moving there. Anyway, Zoe hadn't been a fan of the lake house last year when we first visited so the plan was for her to stay in Pittsburgh, but she seemed to really enjoy the three days she spent there, even though the second had her laid up for the better part of the day on the recliner with a painful stomach ache. It was wonderful to spend time with my family - dad, mom, brother, sister, nieces, and nephew - playing games, swimming in the lake, trail running, canoeing, bicycling, playing miniature golf with Zoe, and simply breathing in the cool, clean mountain air. Olive was a little out of sorts with a new molar that's been creeping in, in addition to a serious lack of sleep. She's no longer a car-sleeper - at least not for me - and she got barely fifteen minutes of shuteye on the three and a half-hour trip.

Despite the peace and relaxation, we bolted on Wednesday evening as opposed to midday Thursday. I've only been married for a little over two years, so at this juncture three days away from my husband is pushing it. I was starting to miss the guy something fierce.

Fascinated by patches of leaf mulch. Understandable.


Getting smoochy with Pop-Pop

Sweetiedoll Iris
Co-bathing cousins

The Great Migration

Rob and I are once again sharing sleeping quarters with Olive. I got up this morning, rearranged the furniture in our already modest-sized bedroom to make room for the crib. Zoe's going to be arriving from Maine tomorrow afternoon and I'm trying to get the last-minute details completed before she gets here (still on my list: splice some wires for a blue paper lantern to hang above her loft that can serve as a reading light). I've got to say that I was less than elated about bringing Buggy back into our space at night; after having her in our room up until she was eleven and a half months old, we really relished having our own room back to ourselves when we moved to our current apartment. It is nice to not have to tiptoe about, worrying that every creak the floor makes might wake your sleeping darling. Last night (as I finish typing this the next day) that was not to be, however. Rob had gone in before me to read in bed and the light didn't rouse or normally light sleeper. I sat on the edge of our bed and gazed at her perfect face as she slept, truly appreciating the opportunity to have her so close again at night. I did, however, notice that the mulberry-filled contents of her diaper had seeped out onto her onesie, causing me to interrupt what might have been a night without incident. If I can help it, I won't have her sitting in a dirty diaper, especially all night. I got her up to change her, but getting hero to go back to sleep was a hassle; even after her crying subsided she continued to kick her mattress for an impressive length of time, then woke me at 5:47. I had half a mind to stay up and be thankful for the early hour which would allow me to get more work done on the final batch of book illustrations I need to have complete by Friday, but instead I put her back in her crib and let all of us catch a few more hours of sleep.

Bedtime

Soon I'll get some footage of Olive brushing her teeth, a habit she's recently picked up. A few nights ago while I was starting to go to work on her chompers she pushed my hand aside. Fortunately this was not a gesture to display her dislike of the act itself but to demonstrate her desire to do it herself. She swiped the toothbrush from me and commenced maneuvering the wand around her mouth. Each night since I've allowed her to brush independently, then do a touch-up myself for good measure.

This is a little clip of her and Rob during their usual evening routine that oftentimes involves a little Richard Scarry. Please excuse our mess of a home; it's actually a lot worse most of the time. And that is not, in fact, an empty bottle of liquor on the floor - just olive oil.

Fashionista

I came home from work this evening to this marvelous sight:

Rob said that she insisted on this winning getup all day - nothing more, nothing less - and I wholeheartedly approve, even though we're not a shoes-in-the-house family. She's so smitten with footwear of any kind - boots, her soft-soled pea pod slippers, Alex's soccer cleats, my boss Lisa's running shoes - and will often present us with her shoes to be placed on her pudgy little block feet (dead ringers for my own, heaven help her!). We made a family outing, sans helmet, to the garden for some mulberry picking and light weeding, then to the co-op for Member Appreciation Day, where we enjoyed 10% off our purchase of things that are handy to have round the house (Bulk baking soda for cleaning the home and teeth! Local organic hot dogs! Almond yogurt, walnuts, grade B maple syrup, brown basmati rice and whole wheat couscous!). Olive is usually most pleased to romp about in her diaper, but also really fancies trying on new things. With the warm weather, long sleeves are out, but tonight I dressed her in her cool weather owl pajamas so her little limbs wouldn't get too chilly in the night, and she marveled at the cuffs at her wrists and giggled as I buttoned the placket. Silly goon-girl.

Bright Eyes

Another concert. Probably the last for a while - for me, at least. I think I'll let Rob do the honors of taking his firstborn to her second concert next weekend (Taylor Swift. Needless to say, I'm not heartbroken about not going, though seeing They Might be Giants, the gig we took her to see two Novembers ago in DC, would always be a welcome outing); I'm starting to feel a little old to be standing in the middle of a pit of teenagers and early twenty-somethings who don't know how to behave themselves. Plus, the standing in one place for three and a half hours is killer on the legs and feet, the decibel of noise emitted from the speakers leaves my eardrums ringing for hours afterward. But man, if it isn't great seeing live music, watching folks whose songs I've loved for years doing what they do so well just yards away! This was easily one of the best shows I've seen in a good long while, and the only one that I've ever been able to compare to an R.E.M. show (an event that always leaves me deliriously happy). It certainly wasn't quite to that level, but I was impressed (as was the gentleman behind us who kept on raving about how bowled over he was by the performance, how it "wasn't at all what he was expecting"). One thing I will say about Conor Oberst, the brains behind Bright Eyes, is that the kid could really benefit from logging a few hours in the sunshine; he resembles a nocturnal basement dweller with his lank, dark hair, hollow, sunken eyes and ghastly pallor - not a becoming look, but he sure can write some good lyrics. Besides going a little overboard with an audience member for calling out, "Freebird!" (he went on a venomously sarcastic chiding spree that would've been witty if he'd dropped it at praising his perseverance and being a "true traditionalist", but he veered into that tiring tangent of bringing up George W. Bush. Nearly three years later...), he seemed like a pretty decent dude and even went so far as to honor the request for "Landlocked Blues" that the kids beside us screamed out at the top of their lungs no fewer than fifty times. If it were me I would not have delivered just on principle; they were annoying the living daylights out of most of us. In their defense, it is a good song, so I wasn't all that disappointed when he brought it out during the encore. Here it is, along with a handful of others.

Happy Birthday, Gail-Bird!

That cupcake there? Best I've ever had. Kellie made these banana cakes with sliced strawberries on top that looked like butterfly wings. Even the frosting, of which I'm hardly ever a fan and winds up being scraped into the garbage, was delectable. Good work, Boot.

Today my first niece turned three. I like how Kellie's kids' birthdays are all within a month and a half of each other - it certainly makes it easy. Gail got to pick the guests to invite to her birthday outing to My Little Outback, and she chose to invite the Wards (the Ryans' good friends who have three little girls close in age to Kellie's kids) and Olive. As her caretaker I got to go along, too; an invitation by proxy is still an invite, I say! All of the kids really seemed to enjoy MLO and its plethora of toys and entertainment, though Jack was less than impressed by the place's "socks only" policy. Since we were unaware of this rule ahead of time, socks had to be purchased there (very tricky of them, but great way to pull in revenue. Kudos). Like Jack, Olive is a very independent player and explorer. When on a mission to take care of the serious business of playing, Olive wants nothing to do with me. I reach out for her hand to guide her, she deflects my grasp and runs off. She had a grand time, though. So did all of the kids, but especially the birthday girl. Happy third year, Gail!

See this? There's the solution to our problem. Looks just like Ché but it can presumably keep its bodily functions in check.

Though she took a passing interest in the myriad of dolls (in a rainbow of racial profiles, no less!) that floated around the toy corral, she was far more captivated by the trucks.

No More Empty Threats

For the past few months it seems like I've been saying, One more time and the cats are out! Well, the last chance (two chances, actually) was used up this morning. After walking into Olive's bedroom and sniffing out the telltale sign of a cat who's veered astray of its litter box, I climbed up into Zoe's loft bed to discover that - Ché, most likely - had wet the bed. No way was I going to stand for that (What can I say? I'm just that good of a stepmother). Moments later, I was delighted to hear scratching sounds in the bathroom - what I naively assumed were made by a cat prepping the litter, or covering up the evidence. It is important to add here that yesterday we began Phase 2 of toilet training the beasts. For the past three weeks or so we'd been getting the cats accustomed to hopping on top of the toilet where their little box was set. Then Rob ordered a CitiKitty cat toilet training kit which arrived by post yesterday. Boy, were we excited. Our days of litter crunching under feet in the bathroom and Wendell tracking horrid footprints all over the bathtub were numbered! A little baggie of catnip was included in the kit for added enticement, in case the act of perching on the bare toilet seat wasn't encouraging enough. Well, the cats are not falling for our plan. Those scratching sounds were not the sweet music of a cat making good choices; Wendell made a sizable puddle on the floor where the broom stood, which seeped into the closet soaking the area under the bag of Swheat Scoop litter I'd just purchased last night for the occasion. Big mess. I've got to give him credit, though; unlike Ché, the kid knows to at least find a more appropriate place to relieve himself than Zoe's bed or Rob's work pants.

So after this unfortunate double-header of episodes, I posted a cats-for-adoption ad on the listserve while the cats spend the day out of doors. I can't be having another accident to clean up or it's going to drive me to drink.

Idyllic Day

There's been a bit of a hot spell recently here in the 'Burgh, and I've been trying to be a good sport about it and not complain too much. What's the sense in complaining about the weather (Should we talk about the weather? Sorry - I couldn't resist the R.E.M. reference)? We all know it's hot. If I couldn't handle climate extremes I'd have bought a one-way ticket to San Diego ages ago. Anyway, the stickiness has not been ideal, particularly when there's no air conditioning to offset it. For the record, there is a window unit still keeping it real in the recesses of our closet and I'd like to be a trooper this summer and not break it out. After all, we are blessed to live in a first-floor dwelling where the builder, back in the '20s, had the foresight to go light on the windows (ie. it's cooler than it could be), and I believe that the heat becomes that much more oppressive when you get too accustomed to basking in the frigid, dry air of the old AC. I'll be the first to say that I'm a complainer of the highest order, and on summer trips back to Maryland when I was living in Maine (or coming from Alaska), the stifling 82 degrees at which my folks keep their house could get to be too much to bear. But in the interest of continuing to keep our 'lectric bill rock-bottom low and letting our bodies adapt to the changing seasons as nature intended, I'm going to try my best to keep my yap shut and make the best of it.

All of that said, today was not at all unpleasant. Quite the contrary. I can't stay inside today. First thing this morning Olive and I set out on a brisk run through East Liberty to hit up Whole Foods and the Trek Store, since Buggy was in need of more Amande almond milk yogurt and a new bike helmet. She needed a nap as soon as we got home, but I sat on the front steps reading and working a little of the New York Times crossword puzzle while she snoozed. Upon waking, I plopped her sweet new helmet on her melon and we took off en vélo to the park where Buggy trotted around the fountain, played on the playground, and laughed maniacally at the geese down at the pond. I'm sitting out on the steps again as I type, loving the cool breezes that sail past. There's not a cloud in the sky on this perfectly clear day, aaand I just received word from Lisa, my boss, that I can take the evening off! This means I'll be able to squeeze in a little bit of time at the garden where the goal is to place a row of sugar snap peas between two rows of white Russian kale, right before jetting off to catch the opening night of Noah and Nina's performances in Alice in Wonderland.

One more thing worth mentioning: Last night Katrina and I went to see Cirque du Soleil. Photographing the show was strictly forbidden, so I've got nothing but some lovely shots of Kat to show for the evening (and the little mayfly she named Evinrude that lit upon her bosom during intermission), but it was fantastic. Our minds were sufficiently blown to shreds.