Painting Tutorial by Buggy

Not wanting to run the risk of being like the manipulative and exploitative father in My Kid Could Paint That, I got this on tape from start to finish.  I quite like it, but I like most things she does.  

The Family Bed

The three of us were hanging around on our bed this evening after we got home from work (Rob and Olive will often come and join me at the market on Saturdays). This is what usually goes on:

Silly Goon Stuff

Lately Olive's been a real nut. About a month ago she began what has become a daily chant: "Haddat, pease? You NEEEEEEED that!" (which translates to "May I have that, please? I need that!"). It's so silly that I can't help but laugh, and not I say it along with her just for fun. This afternoon, after she'd been put in her crib for a nap, I heard her shouting, "Headder! Need water...pease!" I did go in and bring her water, but after she let it seep onto her bedding and I took it away, I ignored her shouts for more. What's with the calling me by my first name, anyway? She's very good at communicating to others what she'd like them to say to her. For instance, she'll often greet people by saying, "I like 'a shoes," or "I like 'a dress." Perhaps it's time for us to start putting less emphasis on what she's wearing and complimenting her attire. Yesterday I was thinking aloud and looking forward to Olive being at the age when she could start going out for runs with me. Nina scoffed - "Girls don't run. Girls play princess and dress-up." Not that I'm going to forbid these things, but I like to think that Olive has a bit more of me in her than that.

Marathon Stuff

As many of you know, in three weeks I'll be running my fourth marathon and am raising funds for the Michael C. Snyder Memorial Fund. My ultimate goal is to raise $1000, which would cover both scholarships that are awarded, though half of that, the amount of one of them, would also be terrific. "Who is this Michael C. Snyder and why should we care?," you might ask. Well, aside from the appeal of helping high schoolers go to college, here's a little bit of background information:

Mike and I had been close friends for about five years. This guy really knew how to be a friend to everyone he cared about, and it's probably what all of us remember best about him - his selflessness, his kindness, his always putting others first. He was honest, and funny, and uplifting. His character was impeccable, and he taught me a great deal about humanity. For my birthday one year he gave me a box filled with rare R.E.M. imports and bootlegs. It was, as anyone can imagine, the most treasured gift anyone has ever given me. Mike loved monkeys - some even called him "Monkey Mike". Olive has a sock monkey and a sock frog, both of whom she calls Monkey Mike, and it makes me smile every time she says their names. He and I had made plans to hang out when I returned home from a family vacation at the beach. While I was away I received a phone call from his father, Dave, who left a message asking me to call him back. This was unusual so I immediately called Mike but was unable to reach him. Immediately my heart sank. Despite his joyful demeanor, Mike had not had an easy life. Recent events for him - being hit by a car on his bicycle, and a horrible car accident that required facial reconstructive surgery, among other things - would have been traumatizing to anyone, but he weathered these unfortunate circumstances gracefully and with good cheer. I fearfully returned Dave's call and as his voice broke I knew his news was bad: Mike, his only child - adopted - had been working for the state highway, holding one of those two-sided signs directing traffic to stop or drive slowly. A driver neglected to stop and hit Mike, killing him. The news was heartbreaking to everyone who knew him in his large circle of friends and family.

Dave and Mary, his parents, sort of adopted all of Mike's friends and loved ones he left behind. Quamain, Mike's longtime Little Brother, is still very close with them, and I like to think that he's taken on a bit of the duties that Mike would've gladly performed as their son. Olive, Rob, and I got to visit Mary briefly while we were in Maryland, and I'm lucky to have these people in my life because I know they helped make Mike who he was.

So when I decided to put my affinity for marathon running to good use by running for charity, this was the first thing that came to mind. I know that it doesn't hit as close to home for some as large organizations like the American Cancer Society, but it means the most to me. If I can help others remember Mike through funding the scholarship established in his name then I'm honoring what an amazing friend he was to me and to many. And remembering my friend is what keeps me, busy with a family and a business to run and a second job, running to help do the work that he'd still be doing if he were alive.

Forgoing the Face Washing

So you may remember a month ago how I talked about quitting shampoo...now it's face wash. It had long been my habit to wash my face twice a day - in the morning and before bed. Around the time I stopped sudsing my hair I cut back to nighttime-only face washings, feeling like a cleaning in the morning was excessive. Over the last week I've imagined my (albeit gentle) facial cleansers doing similar things to my face that shampoo had been doing to my hair, and developed a new routine. I now clean my face with olive oil and can say that, after about five days of this, it's working out just fine. What I do is this:

Pour a dime- to nickel-sized amount of extra virgin olive oil (lesser grade oil will not offer the same benefits, though I imagine that coconut oil would also do wonderful things. Jojoba oil, which I used while in California, was less than ideal, and made my skin a tad dry) in the palm of my hand then massage into my face. I let it sit while I brush and floss my teeth, then take a warm, damp wash cloth and gently wipe away only some of the oil. The rest can absorb into my skin overnight.

Not only do I feel like I'm doing my skin a favor, but I love being able to eliminate the need for more products round the house. I can do so many things with so few items (vinegar, baking soda, and olive oil) that it allows us to pare down on the stuff, and I like this.

A Few More Photographs from California

Here are Romeo and Rob, ready to visit the Oxbow Public Market. The Pittsburgh Public Market would be wise to take a cue or two from this place when designing their new space slated to open in 2013.

Front row at the Olive Oil Sensory Evaluation Course at the Robert Mondavi Institute. Not only was the class absolutely fascinating, but the breakfasts and lunches they provided us were better than most food at some of the better restaurants I've visited (though still not better than Romeo's cooking).

Speaking of Romeo's cooking, this here's a perfectly prepared octopus that made a delicious pre-dinner snack on one of our last evenings at the ranch. I think I'd really like to start painting some octopi, and not quite sure why I haven't before. How beautiful is this?

It was a sea-lover's feast that night: octopus, crabs, and poke, a raw tuna and seaweed salad that was marvelous.

Look at the color of these! They were the best grapes I'd ever eaten. Muscat.

The rear of the house looking out onto the green hills. The emerald color, we're told, gives way to an abysmal brown in the summertime, making it easier to understand why our friends would leave this haven for downeast Maine during that time.

The ladies of the ranch! They're raised to sell as organic beef at the Oxbow.

Rob and Rome out on a glorious early afternoon walk. Not that I'm complaining, but those meteorologists got it all wrong for the week we were there.

I fell madly in love with the trees in California - particularly the oaks. They're so different from the varieties I'm used to on the east coast. The way the branches splay out every which way gives them such splendid shapes. I could easily see myself slipping into an addiction of landscape painting if I was there more often.

Romeo and Iggy (I think)

Bruce and Annie (I think)

The three fellows relaxing in the sun at the pinnacle

Rob on the steps of the Culinary Institute of America at Greystone, St. Helena, California. We went to visit the Oleoteca Villa Campestri where we got to taste a selection of super-premium olive oils. The super-premium standard is substantially higher than the extra virgin grade, which isn't nearly as great as most people are made to believe. I was pleased to learn at the course that a number of the oils I carry (which come from Lucero Olive Oil in Corning) are in this elite category of fine oils. Thanks to the tutorial at Oleoteca, I now know that all it takes to kick up your food a few notches is a splash of good oil and a pinch of salt (we use Himilayan rock salt). This combination is also fabulous on ice cream, as Bruce will enthusiastically attest!

Rob and I strolled around downtown Napa on our second-to-last night in California while waiting for our table at ZuZu. Palm trees are such strange and wonderful plants, aren't they? I love the placement of the moon in this picture.

Just a few yards away from the palm was this mosaic-fountain. We were blown away by the intricate detail.

The streets of Napa. I really, really love it there. We'd probably be signing a lease right now if I didn't think that being in the olive oil business in that part of the country was an unwise business maneuver. It's the whole big fish in a small pond that makes my gig so feasible in Pittsburgh.

On our last full day we took a trip to the San Francisco Zoo and it was truly a wonderland. With the exception of a few exhibits, it shamed every other zoo I've ever visited. As usual, we spent most of our time there observing the gorillas. There was a five year-old in the group, bouncing this way and that, heckling the adults, and showing off for the visitors, that I could've watched for hours. His antics made me excited for our own zoo's new gorilla, and I'm glad to know that they don't grow too quickly. We'll get to enjoy his playful behavior, hopefully, for years to come. I feel the same way about Rob, obviously.

After the zoo we crossed the highway to feel the Pacific Ocean. We scored a few rocks and Rob found a sand dollar, which I smuggled back with me on the airplane.

I'm just delighted that my business gives me even more of a reason to travel to this part of the country on a more regular basis, and that we have such good friends there to host us when we're there. I've never spent a more comfortable and relaxing week away from home in my life. It'll be dangerous when we come the next time with Olive; we may never return!

A Sweet Runion

Not wanting to wake our soundly sleeping goon when we got back to my parents' house last night after many hours of traveling, I had to wait until I heard her stirring this morning before I could go in and see her face and let her see me and let her know that, yes, we really did come back. My folks had reminded me of how I behaved when they came to retrieve me from my week away from them, when they let me stay with my grandmother in North Carolina. They imagined me rushing into their open arms, but instead they found their girl, wounded and mistrustful, inching around the perimeter and retreating to the farthest point of my aunt's lawn. I punished them (and my grandmother) for the next ten years. This seemed unlikely to come from our loving child, but I was told that I'd been very sweet, myself, until that week away from them. I didn't want to delude myself into thinking that flowers would float down from the sky as Olive and I embraced and danced to rejoice our reunion, so I steeled myself for the worst.

When I first heard her chattering happily in her crib down the hall, I hurriedly went to grab her. I opened the door and she saw me; a look of confusion quickly passed over her face then a bewildered grin. She clambered up and held out her arms to me. The tightest, longest hugs I've ever been given by someone so small filled a large part of my day. She wanted precious little to do with my mother, though, and she nervously waved her off each time she got too near. That will pass, I'm sure; she's far too sweet to hold grudges for long. That valuable trait, needless to say, is one she inherited from her father.

Oh, how sweet it is to be back together again, our family just as it should be.