The Cramer Lemon

No Longer a Fair Weather Runner

2012-02-14T16:59:00.002-08:00

I think I've finally broken my many-years-long streak of being a fair weather runner. I remember running through all the elements when I was in college but my commitment waned shortly after I graduated, and I'm ashamed to say that I've all too often reserved my runs for ideal weather. Needless to say, this minimizes my opportunities greatly. There were a few times while living in Maine when I'd run in the snow (but when would I have ever been able to run if I wasn't willing to brave some flakes up there?). My regimen over the past six months has been pretty sparse until recently. Having an almost-two year-old and a husband has done little to get me out, which is why training for a marathon is so helpful. I was discussing with some friends over the weekend about the ratio of women to men runners and we came to the conclusion that women were more concerned about their weight than men and thus more determined to log regular miles against all odds. I don't like falling into this category or for people to assume that I'm dragging myself out to lose weight. Over the summer I was jogging with Olive near the library when some men made the comment that I was "so close to losing the baby weight". Olive was nearly 18 months old at the time and the baby weight had been shed long before. I have to say, I resented the fact that it was implied that I was only running for that purpose and that purpose alone. I'm a runner. It's simply something that I have done for most of my life and will, God willing, do for most of the remainder of it. I do it because it's a great way to clear my head, improve my state of mind, keep my heart healthy (if not my joints), and set a good example for my daughter about the benefits of leading an active life. Staying "thin" is the least of the reasons why I run.

At any rate, I'm pleased that I have just gotten out of my rut. Though this one has been extraordinarily pleasant and mild, Pittsburgh winters aren't known for being kind, and we've been seeing more seasonal precipitation in the last week. Last Friday, thanks to a running buddy to keep me accountable, I enjoyed a lovely run in softly falling snow. Having broken the ice, I bundled up for another, longer, run on Sunday on very snowy sidewalks and temperatures in the teens. Today I took advantage of Rob's day off from the zoo and fit in my longest post-marathon run - a 2 1/2 hour jaunt across the Allegheny to the North Side around the aviary. It was cold, a little wet with a mix falling from the sky that ordinarily would've kept me indoors, and I was hungry, not to mention not accustomed to double-digit mileage just yet. Also, having realized that my iPhone doubles as a music player, I excitedly loaded two albums by my two favorite musicians, R.E.M. and Justin Townes Earle, onto it and plugged in the headphones. I'd underestimated just how problematic the headphones would be (they don't fit in my ears), and after stopping to readjust them by looping them over the fronts or backs of my ears, tying them around the front and back of my next, and recinching my running hood, I gave up one song into Harlem River Blues as I was approaching the 16th Street Bridge in the Strip and packed the uncooperative headphones into my pocket. Don't think for one second that I didn't order myself a set of Philips wraparound headphones on eBay as soon as I got home, because man, was that music nice! My head has been throbbing since mid-afternoon from exhaustion, as is usually the case when I run earlier in the day, but I'm so glad I did it. Maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to say I really trained for this marathon coming up in May, and that will feel really good.

Pretty Sweet Night

2012-02-09T05:19:00.000-08:00

Last night I attended Pub Trivia Night at Brillobox, a nearby establishment that had always looked appealing from the outside. A friend named Keith had mentioned trivia night and I excitedly said that I'd love to go, mentioned it to my friend and coworker, Dylan, and we met up last night after I went to yoga, put Olive to bed, and ate popcorn with Rob. Our team was comprised of seven members, five of them regulars, all of them highly gifted in the trivial knowledge department and consistently pull in third or second place in the weekly competitions. We huddled round the table as questions were asked, most of them more challenging than I had anticipated. One of the segments in the first round were television locales; a slide of an image from a show was projected onto the back wall and we had to name the city in which the series was set. For whatever reason I had thought that Happy Days took place in Kenosha, WI, not Milwaukee, so we got that one wrong. I was also really disappointed that I drew a blank when a shot from Freaks and Geeks, a favorite of Rob's and mine, was shown (Chippewa, MI - gah!). We then debated long and hard about the frequency of cicada appearances. Dylan immediately said seventeen years, which sounded right to me, but Warren, another teammate thought seven. Recalling the last time the bugs descended in 2004, I nixed that theory because they would've come last year. James thought it was more than twenty. Dylan wasn't positive, but we were right to trust his instinct. My favorite segment was the last, wherein portions of songs were played and we needed provide the title and artist. This is a game that my dad and I play on road trips all the time, so I felt like I could really pull my weight. This time, though, we also had to find the common theme for additional points. Most of the songs were easy, with Derek and the Dominos' 'Layla' playing first. We realized that all of the songs had long instrumental intros (The Stones' 'Can You Hear me Knocking', Dire Straits' 'Romeo and Juliet', Michael Jackson's 'Don't Stop Till You Get Enough', The Velvet Underground's 'All Tomorrow's Parties', The Temptations' 'Papa Was a Rolling Stone', Guns 'N Roses' 'November Rain', Van Halen's 'Right Now', and two others that I didn't know). Doing well in this section, despite missing a whole slew of the television ones, really gave us a good cushion and we listened, all of us on the edge of our seats, as the announcer gave the rankings. Once the fourth place winners had been named we were delighted to know that we had placed in the top three. Our adversaries at the table next to us who had won the first of the two rounds, got third place. The second place winners were announced, and then, the landslide victors: us! The prize, a $20 gift certificate, was used to purchase a large glass a dubious-looking concoction complete with seven straws . I used mine to slurp up the rest of my water and brought it home for Rob, who told me as I was leaving to "bring home the trophy." It really was one of the best nights I'd had in a long time. How I love being married and having a family, but sometimes it's great fun to do things that take me back to the days when I was living in Baltimore, hanging out with my college friends. That's a lot what this felt like. I pulled myself away at 12:45, said so long to my friends, and crossed the quiet street to my car, floating on the adrenaline of the evening but glad to be returning home to my dear, sleeping husband. I tickled his nose with my victory straw when I got in, then fell asleep with a feeling of great peace and satisfaction, appreciating so much the life that I have.

Figs, Birds, and New Friends

2012-01-30T11:37:00.000-08:00

This is the way my life works: I lose something important, I replace it, I find the original missing thing. The day after my new camera battery arrived in the mail, I was going through some things in the bedroom and found the extra battery charger and in it was the old battery. Ah! Under my nose all along. It's good to have two, though, just in case.

This morning Olive and I joined some of our new friends, Gabe and Ella and Courtney and Willa, at the National Aviary for a morning of bird watching (and feeding!). The three girls are all within six months of one another and are wonderful playmates. I also feel very fortunate to have formed a friendship with Gabe and Courtney, who I met at Music Together. We're now in the same class as Courtney and Willa and usually have a brief encounter with Gabe and Ella on their way in to the class after ours. During outings it's becoming increasingly challenging to keep a handle on Olive, ever adventurous, independent, and inquisitive. The aviary is a source of many wonders for an almost-two year-old, and at one point, while talking to Courtney, another mother brought over Olive and asked if she belonged to one of us. Sensing my preoccupation she seized the opportunity to make a beeline to the enclosure housing the green-winged trumpeters and toucans. She loved that exhibit most of all.

I'm going to start tracking the progress of my little fig tree. The thing has shot up with new buds and leaves appearing nearly every day. Just last month its first new leaf made its appearance and today I counted eleven. Truly miraculous. There's a chance of fruit this summer, I think, and I can hardly wait.

Buggy was smitten with the wattled currasows. I think she was inspired by their coifs.

Ella. Look at that face.

She will readily turn her face into a scowl upon request. It's one of the best tricks I've ever seen.

This rock wall provided just as much entertainment as the birds themselves. Put rock climbing gear on Olive's birthday list.

I really was impressed by this bird with its brilliantly hued metallic-looking feathers.

Ella and Buggy practicing good teamwork.

Just look at those lush leaves! And to think that it had sat dormant, just a few naked sticks, for four months!

Fig tree and Precious Junior, the rubber tree plant (it came with the name; we don't name our plants), enjoying the southward-facing window

Here's a sweet clip that Rob caught of Olive singing one of her favorite jams, accompanied by her ukulele. Not bad.

The Sleepover

2012-01-18T11:35:00.000-08:00

Last night Rob, Olive, and I packed an overnight back and headed up the street to the Khorey's house for an all-nighter. The kids' mom is on her yearly business trip to Israel and their dad had band practice, so my guardian services were requested overnight. Olive was tickled to bits at the idea of getting ready for bed - brushing her teeth, putting on pamamas, and saying goodnight to everyone in the living room playing Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader? (most of us were not, of course, which is the point of the game). I think the kids were, at first, a little sketched out at the idea of Rob staying over, too. They don't know him as well, but I thought it'd be a great opportunity for all of them to get to know one another a little better. After all, they're my other kids and he's my husband; they all hear plenty about the other. It went really well except for Buggy keeping me up until nearly 2:30. I made the mistake of setting up her Pack 'N Play in our room, not wanting to stow her all the way in the basement, where she usually sleeps when she's there. When she began crying in the midnight hour I wasn't so much afraid of her waking the others, who will undoubtedly sleep through the Apocalypse, but of not getting any sleep myself. Uncomfortably warm and thirsty in the liberally-heated house, I'd been tossing around since we went to bed at 10:30. By 1:50 I'd had enough of Olive's knocking her water bottle on the sides of her bed and handed her off to Rob, partially collapsed the PN'P, enough to drag it down two flights of stairs, ran back up for Olive and deposited her in her more familiar sleeping quarters. I grabbed a glass of water, turned the thermostat down ten degrees, and went back to bed, sleeping soundly until 6 when I needed to get up to wrangle the kids out of bed (Noah was particularly difficult to rouse because, he complained, "It was so cold"). Olive was gleeful when I greeted her and has been all day, showing no signs that she'd been burning the midnight oil. I was dubious about my ability to drag the two of us in to Music Together at 9:30 but I pulled it off. I'm sure I'll be feeling the effects tomorrow.

Also, still no sign of my camera battery. Olive will probably be nine by the time it arrives. Get your postal system in check, China!!!!

Goin' to California

2012-01-16T11:59:00.000-08:00

A huge relief is having found and purchased cross-country airfare for a steal of a deal. Southwest has always been my favorite airline, especially now when it's one of the few that don't charge fees when you need to check a bag or two (I'm still grumbling over the $165 fee I had to pay two years ago when I first went to Alaska). This will come in handy when I'm wanting to bring back cases of olive oil from the country's leading producer. As I've been reading Tom Mueller's new book, Extra Virginity, a highly informative olive oil primer, it's becoming increasingly important that I get the firmest handle on my business as I can. This means taking a sensory evaluation course where I learn to accurately detect different oils' unique taste characteristics and can speak more knowledgeably about my own products. Customers like that. So I pinpointed a great course offered by UC Davis' Olive Center, housed in the Robert Mondavi Institute for Wine and Food Science, the most advanced sensory laboratory in the world. I feel like I can learn a thing or two here. The great part is that Davis is only an hour's drive from Napa, home of dear friend Bruce, who will be hosting us for the week at his olive tree-surrounded ranch. Airfare was $159 each way from Dulles International Airport, a mite more expensive than fare from Pittsburgh, but since we're opting to leave Olive with my parents (a difficult choice), this made more sense. I wanted to bring her, but it was illogical: paying a couple hundred dollars for her plane tickets (she will be over two by March, the age at which most airlines began charging for non-infants), subjecting her to a 9+ hour flight and jet lag, and the having to work around her nap schedule while trying to make the most of our short time there all sound like bad ideas, aside from the joy of having her near. It's going to be pretty wild and weird to be away from her for so long. After all, this is less of a family vacation than it is an educational business excursion that will be written off of next year's taxes. I think she'll really enjoy the time she gets to spend with Mimi and Pop Pop, though; she adores them both and I think we'll all be thankful for all the time they'll get to spend together. And Rob and I will return (if we do decide to return from spring in the Bay Area) with a heightened awareness of the industry in which we've found ourselves and undoubtedly an even greater appreciation for our daughter, who I'm already missing terribly.

The Triumphant Fig

2012-01-10T11:58:00.001-08:00

Over the summer I was given a potted fig tree from Mary of the Italian Garden Project. This was a very exciting acquisition for me, given my longterm hopes of having a plentiful homegrown fig supply. The little cutting was from Mary's grandfather's tree in the old country, so it's pretty special even though I don't know her grandfather and have only met Mary on a few occasions at the market when she hosts workshops. The tree sat on our front steps until the cold weather required me to transport it indoors for the winter. Within a few weeks the leaves began to drop, much to my dismay and concern, but the three branches remained green. After over three months of this, though, with no visible change whatsoever, I decided to relocate the pot to our bedroom where the light is best. I don't know if it's the improved light source or its close proximity to the humidifier, but a new leaf has unfurled itself - with another just behind it - in only a couple of days. Amazing. I'm thrilled about the potential of this little plant!

Observations on a Goon

2012-01-08T17:10:00.000-08:00

I can't tell you how much I'm loving the fact that I can now carry out a dialogue with Olive. This evening, for instance, after she'd gobbled up two clementimes (yes, she says it with an 'm' at the end), I asked her what else she'd like to eat. "Yogurt," she replied, and when I opened the refrigerator to get her some she spied the tempeh. "I want tempeh." So I put on some rice to boil, which she later mistook for quinoa. If I have to tell my child that her rice is another, superior grain in order for her to eat it, so be it. When she sees a necklace I'm wearing she'll ask me to "take it off" and I'll ask if she'd like to wear it. "YESS." She's really gotten a handle on the affirmative response; just a few short weeks ago "no" was her standard reply to anything, and now her no has diminished to a distressed and very understandable hand gesture that elicits too many laughs from Rob and me, which is probably incredibly frustrating to her. Or maybe not. "Pwease", "tenku", and "yuwecome" are often thrown into her exchanges with us, which makes me very proud. She's mimicking our behavior more and more. When I go to the bathroom to brush my teeth she follows me in, pulling out her step stool and requesting her brush. I was getting ready for bed early tonight so she witnessed me flossing my teeth, which she found pretty funny, so I let her have a go at it. It made me question the age at which I should start implementing this very important habit in her routine and I figured now is as good a time as any. Her teeth are still pretty spaced out, but I'd like for her to at least become familiar with it as something that accompanies brushing. This evening she picked up a telephone and held it to her ear. "Hewo? Yeah...yeah...yeah...yeah...yeah...yeah...YESS...yeah...{chuckles and gibberish}..." Sweet stuff. In the last week reading to Baby has become something she enjoys after I've put her to bed. She doesn't sleep with a light on in her room so I leave her door open so just a little light will shine in on her - just enough so she can see the pages. I love to hear her repeating some of the lines she's memorized. And tonight she was working on singing the alphabet song and doing a pretty decent job. The ABCD part she had down pat, and the more she sang it the more other letters began to show up, particularly in the QRS bit. She's going to be delighted to return to Music Together on Tuesday.

What a blessing it is to be the mother of this amazing child!

A Doll for Olive

2012-01-05T17:48:00.001-08:00

I'd had an inkling that Olive would be the recipient of a baby doll this Christmas. I know no one thought I'd ever throw in the towel and get her one, so my darling Nina, who saw how her little friend's eyes lit up when she saw a doll at their house, made it a point to get her a baby of her very own. Nina often speaks fondly of her Bitty Baby, American Girl's baby doll, so I had a feeling that this would be the gift. Since I was sick during the holiday when I would've seen the Khoreys, the gift had to wait until Tuesday when I first saw them again after their break. Nina excitedly corralled us into the living room, sat Olive on her lap and allowed her to tear through the wrapping paper. When she realized what was in the box she sweetly cooed, "Bae-by", in what Noah called a Tennessee accent. At the time she was just as pleased with the bear that accompanied it, but she's quickly become very attached to her little baby. Tonight when I put her to bed she requested that she have a book to read to Baby. I found a little board book about shapes. She struggled for a moment to get Baby into a sitting position so that her eyes would remain open (the opening and closing eyes are fascinating to her), and she giggled in satisfaction when I propped her up in an ideal spot. I hovered over them while my girl commenced reading, stunning me with the information and vocabulary I didn't know she had: "Circle, orange, heart, drum." Rob is the parent who does the bulk of the reading to her, and I love that this is something they can share. His time with her is clearly paying off. During a brief visit today to an out-of-town library while waiting to pick up olive oil for this weekend, she captured the attention of the librarian. The kindly woman offered her stickers and a Sesame Street booklet, and sensibly refrained from giving any lollipops. I almost felt guilty when I explained that she wasn't really familiar with Elmo and Big Bird, that she'd never seen the show, but Buggy quickly proved to her that she was, in fact, being educated at home when she began naming parts of a flower arrangement and some letters she recognized on a sign. How on earth did this baby of mine suddenly begin to know such things, displaying decidedly un-infantile behavior? It makes me thankful for the vestiges of her babyhood, the nursing and the diapering, which I'm all too happy to hang onto for as long as I can.

Pictures will be available sometime next week, hopefully. A new camera battery was ordered so I'll be back in the game (and my mother can enjoy my blog once again!).

Happy Goon Year!

2011-12-31T20:16:00.000-08:00

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

2011-12-29T17:36:00.001-08:00

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

2011-12-26T09:17:00.000-08:00

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

2011-12-25T07:58:00.000-08:00

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!

2011-12-19T06:54:00.000-08:00

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

2011-12-10T18:18:00.000-08:00

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

2011-12-10T05:57:00.000-08:00

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

2011-12-03T18:54:00.000-08:00

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

2011-12-02T18:17:00.000-08:00

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

2011-11-29T20:31:00.000-08:00

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

2011-11-25T07:44:00.000-08:00

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

2011-11-21T07:23:00.000-08:00

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

2011-11-15T20:22:00.000-08:00

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

2011-11-13T17:15:00.000-08:00

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

2011-11-09T20:05:00.000-08:00

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

2011-11-08T19:21:00.000-08:00

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

2011-11-07T08:06:00.001-08:00

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

2011-10-28T18:45:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-22T13:57:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-17T16:46:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-11T16:18:00.000-07:00

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?

2011-10-11T08:30:00.001-07:00

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!

2011-10-10T04:56:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-07T18:26:00.001-07:00

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

2011-09-28T19:40:00.000-07:00

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!

2011-09-24T12:07:00.000-07:00

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.

Earth-Shattering News

2011-09-21T18:07:00.000-07:00

I know this is of little consequence to most people, but when I read today that R.E.M., my longtime favorite band - my "spirit group", you could call them - announced that they were hanging up their hats as a band my head was reeling. Yes, it was bound to happen at some point, that much I knew, but I was so unprepared for such news. Everything has a way of balancing out. There I was, pleased as punch over the morning my girl and I had spent singing songs and banging away on drums, so when the news arrived I felt like I'd been sucker-punched. Bigtime. I was already disappointed that the band opted to not tour in the wake of their latest album released this past March, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that they'd take their show on the road in due time. Both of my parents are still using this tactic: "They'll do a reunion show!" But I'm not convinced. I've known this band a long time and they don't strike me as the sorts to rally like that, but who knows? I've been wrong before.

So suffice it to say that I am bummed. I called my parents' house after I found out and scared the pants off my mom when she answered the phone and, hearing my grief-riddled tone, got to thinking that seriously bad dealings had gone down on my end (conversely, when In Time, a best-of compilation was released in 2003 and I called her to express my fanatic praise of the record, her first thought was that I was calling to tell her I'd gotten engaged. Please!). I got home from a long evening at work and I got a sympathy call from my father, the man with whom I shared so much of their music, who took me to see them when I was only thirteen, and probably knows how this event affected me. He gets it because he feels the loss, too.

After polishing off a young coconut in a matter of minutes (including prep time!) and enjoying a tall glass of the delicious juice that Rob and I have been enjoying fresh nearly every day for the past three weeks (kale, apple, lemon, cucumber, carrot), I'm feeling a little bit better and am ready to proceed onward like a normal person. I remind myself that the world went through this when the Beatles disbanded, and on a much, much larger scale, but still. I absolutely adore these guys, but at least that much won't change.

Have a listen to one of my all-time favorite songs:

Music Together

2011-09-21T09:02:00.000-07:00

This morning Olive and I attended our first Music Together class at the Center for the Arts in Shadyside. I'd signed us up for the wrong session - the babies only class which caters to infants eight months and younger, but I hadn't read the fine print. I took a chance and showed up at the mixed ages class, hoping there'd be room for us, and luckily there was. The instructor, Karen, had been highly recommended by the mother of one of my younger piano students, and I immediately knew that she'd be a good fit for us. There were seven or eight other families in the large room (which had a mirrored wall that beckoned to Olive for much of the hour), and most of the children were right around her age. She was easily the most active of the lot, buzzing around happily which, thankfully, was encouraged. Part of me wanted to rein her into my lap to sit quietly like the other children, but I knew she'd react negatively to the restraint, and moreover I knew that that wasn't what Karen expected me to do, so I left her alone to explore the classroom on her own, circling back to me whenever she felt inclined (I'd intervene only when her curiosity drove her to the contents of other peoples' purses and diaper bags). We were one of the only new families there, so I got the impression that the other kids were simply more familiar with the space and format of the class. We started out with a greeting song that will be sung at the beginning of each class, followed by a series of songs with claps or other hand motions. Farther into the hour a bin of small percussion instruments was brought out and we all got to experiment with them, creating a grand cacophony. Olive took a particular shine to a shaker that looked like an orange, and held onto it tightly when the time came to put them away. Another little girl, the oldest in the class at five or so, was outraged over this but Karen kindly explained that Olive had grown attached to the orange but would return it at the end of the class. Once class was over the girl quickly snatched the shaker and delivered it to the bin. I fear that my gal may not have made a friend in this girl over that incident, but I feel like Olive's pleasant demeanor will prevail and win her over in the end. We closed with the lights dimmed, and the children who had strayed from their parents made their way back. I so wanted to take pictures but didn't want to be that mother, so I'm trying to recreate the experience as best I can through words. After this first day I'm very encouraged; it's a great way for Olive to get to discover more about music, something she's always loved, meet and interact with other children, and for me to be around other parents, something I feel is very important. I was very impressed with the quality of the class, with Karen's methods and kind treatment of everyone, and the wholesome atmosphere. This is something Olive and I (and Rob, when he can make it) are going to really enjoy this fall!

Time to Go to the Park

2011-09-17T18:05:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been awarded free Friday afternoons when my boss comes in and relieves me around 2. I normally get home around seven, just as Olive's getting ready to go to bed. Yesterday was the perfect day to be off early, and although I was dragged down with a nasty cold that I was fighting like mad with some homeopathic remedies, I was not about to miss a walk to the park with Rob and Olive in weather that has just started to call for sweaters. I stuffed my pocket with some soft flannel hankies and prepared to go.

Here she is before we left the house. Don't pay any mind to Rob's and my mundane talk - just look at that sweet little thing there in the hat. And yes, Mom, that pig sty of a living room was tidied up shortly after the video was taken.

Our little hiker:

And More...

2011-09-13T09:06:00.000-07:00

Thanks to a late-night ballgame I was able to crank out more on the mural. It's nice to see some green filling in all the white space. And 'rillas, too (based on our zoo's own Harry and Ibo)!

Mural Progress

2011-09-09T19:25:00.000-07:00

Thanks to my encouraging and always wonderful Rob, I've been able to bang out some evenings of painting in the back studio (Rob will chat with me or we'll listen to Seinfeld reruns or he'll watch football). My deadline for this mural is less than a month away, but I work best under pressure. It's been a real relief to find out how quickly this project moves; this shot was taken after about three hours of painting.

I'd say I'm in pretty good shape. The piece includes another panel to the right and another full row higher, as well as two additional panels the go over a doorway and six to the far side, but those will have far less information and thus less work. I was actually dreading the ark itself, but that's proving to be a much less daunting task than I'd worried it would be. Still loads more hours to put into this job, but I'll get there.

My favorite part of the piece is the pair of lemurs, those white patches, particularly the one captured in mid-leap.

Flea Infestation

2011-09-05T06:26:00.000-07:00

Well, the cats are out of our hair now, being outdoor pets for the better part of the last month, but a new, perhaps even more vicious problem has taken their place. Fleas. Chances are they came in on the backs of the cats, mated, laid eggs, and now the eggs are hatching. Everywhere. I noticed the first one on Saturday as I sat on the couch. I felt a tickle then looked down at my arm where a small, dark spot sat. I went to brush it away and it sprung nimbly from its feasting spot. It had been a while since I'd seen a flea. Yesterday morning I was standing by the kitchen and felt the same crawling sensation on my ankles. There, swarming all over my socks like fruit flies, were fleas. I began to panic, realizing that the problem was quickly multiplying, and commenced vacuuming every surface, then left a message for an exterminator to give me a quote for services. All day long while I was at work I dreaded returning home, fearing that our home would be engulfed in a brownish haze of flickering fleas. Rob set to work researching natural remedies for home flea removal and called me while I was shopping for juice ingredients at Whole Foods to instruct me to pick up a hefty quantity of Borax. I got the stuff, dropped it off at home, then skipped out to give a first piano lesson to a three year-old girl in our neighborhood, then to a family meeting at the Khoreys'. When I got home I saw that Rob had gone into battle with the fleas: Borax was sprinkled over most everything in the living room. We can really only do one room at a time, which isn't necessarily the best way to attack these varmints; they'll simply relocate. This evening we'll probably do our room, then tomorrow Buggy's room. All the time I'm feeling phantom fleas, though it's hard to discern a phantom from the real thing since both are so fleeting. Their bites really don't bother me all that much; it's the idea of them that makes me shudder. I could hardly shake the feeling of having them bouncing all over my legs as I fell asleep last night.

One more reason the cats are never, ever coming inside again.

A Goon Devours a Kiwi in Record Time and Others

2011-09-03T18:57:00.000-07:00

Get a load of this girl and her kiwi. Annihilation, pure and simple.

Here's a delighted Buggy with Rob in hot pursuit. It's most definitely her favorite game.

Here she is busying herself in her toy chest.

And here we are just doing what we do:

Buggy

2011-08-28T18:43:00.000-07:00

This morning I dropped off my gal at the Ryans' for what is most likely her favorite day of the week (not that her time spent with us is dreadful by any means, but she makes it quite clear that her preference is with her cousins, particularly the littlest one). She's usually ready for a nap by the time we arrive around 9, and after I came back downstairs from tucking her in to the pack 'n play they have set up for her in Jack's room, Iris was excitedly babbling away, inquiring after "Buggy? Buggy? Buggy?" It tickled me to hear her called by the nickname we gave her by someone else - someone so small. Iris' vocabulary is pretty impressive already, and she's more than three months Olive's junior. I love seeing those two girls together - such sillydolls!

It's Our First 'Burghversary N'At!

2011-08-24T18:44:00.000-07:00

Wow. Has it really been a year since Rob, Olive, the cats, and I pulled into our new neighborhood of Highland Park? I can remember that evening so clearly: we arrived at our destination slightly weary and famished. We deposited the cats in our still-being-renovated apartment and set out blindly in search of Trader Joe's, which I recalled was nearby from my visit with Kellie and the kids the summer prior, and was amazed at the ease with which I found it (I give myself all the credit here, since I was the sole navigator for the first four months or so of our life here. In my beloved's defense, he was a total newcomer to Pittsburgh - to cities in general, so I accepted my role willingly). Lazily we grabbed a couple of frozen pizzas and rushed back home, burned the first one in the unfamiliar oven but scarfed both of them down in short order, nonetheless. The bedroom was sweltering, we had no bed and thus slept on the floor, giving Olive her crib mattress (I feared a fight would break out; I knew Rob was longing for a good night's sleep on that little thing). The level of physical discomfort that first night was disturbingly high, but our spirits - at least mine - were through the roof. After spending several years feeling distressingly out of place and homesick for a place that at least could feel like a real home, landing in this corner of Iron City was such a relief. That feeling hasn't waned since our arrival, and I feel like we're truly flourishing here, both of us having jobs that we not only enjoy but also allow each of us to be home with Olive every day but one (and we're thankful for that day, too, as that provides the opportunity for her to spend most of the day with her amazing cousins, aunt, and uncle. Living only nine miles away from them has been a real treat). We've made good friends and discovered a bountiful local food scene in the process, I've found outlets for artistic endeavors, recently taking on an art student and two piano students, all of whom are in our fantastic neighborhood and have great families (this makes an enormous difference, I have found), and we've been able to live so comfortably here, I'm in no hurry to ever leave. I can't stress what a contented feeling this gives me, what a remarkable place this Pittsburgh is.

18 Months!

2011-08-22T09:56:00.000-07:00

18 months seems like such a milestone in the life of a young person. She has suddenly transformed into a toddler - not so much a baby any longer. My Khorey kids arrived home on Saturday (while Rob and Olive and I were there picking up a load of laundry, in fact), and I've spent much of the last two days with them. They're all pretty amazed at the growth that took place during the four weeks they were gone; this morning Noah marveled at how she pointed to each person when I called out their names. I suggested she go play the piano and she pranced right over to tinkle away. These were things she most certainly was not doing prior to their trip. Last night the family celebrated Nina's twelfth birthday (it was on the 12th and most of her tight-knit family was unable to attend), and Olive and I were there to help celebrate. She seemed so glad to be back amongst that clan - particularly Granddad, Doug's father, who has always had a real fondness for the little gal, and she him. Nina and I watched delightedly when the two of them first locked eyes again - Granddad was outside by the grill and Olive was in the sunroom, but both of them lit up when they spied each other through the storm door. I've always been glad that she has another grandfather figure like this in her life; my father is fantastic, as everyone knows, and we're lucky to live only four breezy hours away and can see him far more often than we used to (thank goodness!), but it's always pained me that I never met my father-in-law and that Olive will never know her paternal grandfather. Having a local stand-in is certainly welcome. Not to mention all the other extended family members who treat me, the children's care-giver, like one of their own. I was really blessed to have fallen in which such a great lot of folks.

So I guess you could say that Olive and I piggybacked on Nina's birthday celebration with Olive's half-birthday falling the day after. It's hard to believe that she's only six months to two and halfway to three; it sounds like such a long way off but I know that it's not. I'm so excited to see everything that unfolds between now and then! She grows sweeter by the day. How I love my darling goon!

The First Cut is the Deepest

2011-08-20T19:09:00.000-07:00

Today while I was at work Rob contacted me on several occasions: the first to say hello, the second to tell me that Buggy had been flipping through a book and was pointing out images saying, "Wassat?" the way he does when he reads to her, and the third - oh, the third - to ask if we had any wound-wrapping material, Buggy's distressed cries audible in the background. My head started to spin as I tried to direct him to the roll of bandage in the bathroom closet. That poor girl had sliced the bottom of her big toe on a not-yet-discovered claw-shaped glass shard that protruded up from a wooden box near our dinging table. The thing was just waiting for someone to come round and step on it. Thank goodness it was only her toe; the injury could've been so much worse. Part of me - the mother part of me - felt frantic and wanted to be home to help take care of the crisis and comfort my child. Then the other part of me, the part that cannot stomach the sight of blood or even the thought of it, felt thankful that the situation was in Rob's capable and calm hands. By the time I walked through the front door she was on her feet (the injured foot in a sock), gingerly limping about, careful to avoid floor contact with the big toe). Kind of pitiful but kind of hilarious. The pain had clearly dwindled and she didn't seem bothered by it much, but before bed when we removed the bandage to dab a cotton ball soaked in tea tree oil onto the cut, heavens to Betsy did she howl! Inflicting such pain on her was more than I could handle. Don't think for one second that I was going to be getting at that toe with my camera - no siree. I'd like for it to heal up and be done with it, but I know, as my coworker Siena reminded me, that this would be the first of many, many similar incidents. I'm going to have to toughen up if I'm going to make it through anything else like this.

Concert Date with Mahself

2011-08-18T20:16:00.000-07:00

The only damper on last night was that Rob didn't accompany me to one of the better concerts I've seen in many years. Because of a pre-outing misunderstanding (Zoe went MIA for a couple of hours and I finally found her at the park, nose in a book; Rob was pretty rattled and had called the police) he stayed home to man the fort, so I did what I spent much of my mid-twenties doing: going to catch live music and scoring the sweetest spot in the house. The act? Justin Townes Earle. He'd been the opening act when we saw the Decemberists play in April, and I've learned to keep an eye on those openers - they can often be as good as the headliners, which is why I did a little research on Shovels + Rope, the outfit touring with Mr. Earle. It didn't take much listening to determine that I'd show up early for their set, and boy, was I ever glad I did! What a treat these two were - Carrie Ann Hearst and Michael Trent had southern charm to spare, her slow and husky South Carolina-by way of-Tennessee accent sounding a bit like Sissy Spacek's in Coal Miner's Daughter. The pair traded off on drums and harmonica and each played guitar and sang beautiful harmonies, her voice often sharp and so loud I wondered how she kept such control over the notes. His voice was softer and offered a mellow balance to her wilder pipes, reining her in before she skidded off the edge. They were tight, endearing as all get-out, and made me wish like mad - if only for a few hours - that I'd chosen the same path (Carrie Ann told the audience that back in her twenties she "studied real hard and got good grades before deciding that she was living kind of a dumb life" and she finally buckled down and really hit the music-making). There have been times when I've waited, itchy with impatience, for the opening band to just be done with it so we can get on with the main event; this was not one of those times.

JTE, who could be seen pacing about in the wing off the stage, didn't dally once his turn came. There's something larger than life about the guy, and not simply because his presence is so striking, standing well over six feet tall on the gangliest pair of legs imaginable. It has more to do with the feeling that he's of another era, taking cues from Hank Williams and his contemporaries in both his music and style. I absolutely love that kind of stuff. Not to mention his bass player, Bryn Davies, who rocked out on that massive instrument somethin' fierce. Again, seeing this got me thinking about how awesome it'd be to take up a new instrument; look where it got her! Since Rob was absent I made sure to take plenty of video to share with him and all of y'all. Enjoy the show!

In the Last Week

2011-08-16T16:59:00.000-07:00

Zoe spent all of last week in (in, not on) Mars at the Family Retreat Center for Language Camp where she learned French (campers had a choice of that, German, and Spanish. We went to pick her up on Saturday morning and saw the closing performance which included a skit and a few songs they'd learned. I was seriously impressed with the amount of French she'd learned and her pronunciation. She said that she found it easy to read, which is great; I do also, but recognize that many (her father, par example) do not. It appeared that she made a lot of new friends there - one of whom lives just a few blocks up the street from us and is also named Zoe - and is eager to return next summer. Good deal.

Speaking of France, my Khoreys will be returning on Sunday, a day that will cap off with a belated birthday party for Nina who turned twelve (or twenty-two, which is what it really seems like) on the twelfth. It'll be great to have them back. Also, it will be sweet to be able to do laundry at my leisure again, rather than doing it once or twice a week at Kellie's house (thank you so much, Boot!) and having to use more disposable diapers than I'd care to use because I'm trying to stretch the cloth ones till the next wash day. Having laundry privileges at a place of employment is a benefit of such magnitude - particularly for a family of four with one in cloth diapers - that words cannot properly describe.

On the home front I was hard at work on my mural, as it occurred to me that I need to be wrapping that up sometime next month and August's end is in sight. Rob and Zoe have been dutifully keeping me company while I've scampered all around the back apartment, jumping from panel to panel, turning them on their sides to align with their side or upper-lower neighbors. To convey what's going on in my "studio" apartment, there are fourteen rather large panels of medium-density fiberboard that weigh a whole lot more than they look like they ought to lining the walls of our old abode. The bulk of the mural - the ark and all non-winged animals - is happening on the eight largest panels, four across and two high, so planning is key. I can't go to the church to drill the panels up onto the wall only to find that they're not joining together properly. Aside from the birds that will fill the sky, I'm done with the sketch and nearly ready to commence the very exciting task of applying the paint! Another minor detail is getting reference photos of some of the animals in the mural that also live in the zoo here, just to make it a little more personal (if to no one else but Rob and me). Mrithi and Ibo, the lead silverback gorilla and the silly, expressive little ball-shaped female are featured, and I plan to have Gracie, the aviary's beloved and recently deceased toucan, perched at the helm, with a fictional mate flying alongside her. Zoe brought up the question that I hadn't even considered: "Are you going to paint Joseph?" I assumed she had her Biblical tales crossed, but then she realized her error and switched Joseph to Jonah. I reminded her that Jonah was the one that landed himself in the belly of the whale - in a similar vein of the ark, I suppose - and that she meant Noah. I probably ought to paint old Noah somewhere in the mural, right? He's the one who made the voyage possible, the captain. But who will be my Noah? Could it be Rob bedecked in Genesis-era garb? I can think of no other candidates. Stay tuned for some images in the coming week.

Pianists

2011-08-13T17:31:00.000-07:00

Maybe I'm just blinded by love, but I think she's pretty good. Thanks to Rob for keeping her regularly exposed to the piano since birth - it's working, my sweet!

My Morning Jacket, My Dad, and My Goon that Won't Sleep

2011-08-11T12:10:00.001-07:00

I'm up typing at 1:47 am because there's a little girl who's been yelling to beat the band back in the bedroom for the past hour and a half. Not really crying - just an incessant yell that's so much more nerve-grating than a cry. After she'd been at it for a while and it had escalated I decided to check her diaper and, sure enough, it needed my attention. Since that's no longer the case I could stand it no more. I'm frustrated because I'm tired. I got home at 11:30 from a concert where I'd been on my feet for five hours straight and wanting nothing more than to get some solid sleep. She refused her afternoon nap so I should've expected this.

I need to focus on the positive, though. At 6 o'clock Buggy and I drove down to the zoo after hitting the farmers' market at the Phipps Conservatory (returning with two sweet pounds of red Russian kale with which to make kale chips, a new favorite of Buggy's, and hot dogs in our basket) to pick up Rob so I could make it down to Stage AE to meet up with the "Other Rob", Rob Magnien (my dad's good buddy and former longtime boss), his son, and son's girlfriend, for a My Morning Jacket show. This was my first time seeing them and Rob's dozenth. The guy is a nut for this band. I've always loved that level of fanaticism and appreciate it even more when it doesn't wane with age. My dad and Rob are seeing the guys play on Friday in Maryland. Doors opened at 6:30 and I was trying to make it there as close to that as possible since I know Rob's penchant for scoring the choicest spots in the house (on the rail, preferably, at the feet of Jim James). Rob called to say that they were close to the front of the line. I was just a few minutes' walk away but didn't spot them in the line. Who I did spot was my dad! (I know - this called for two words italicized in one sentence). It all made sense, since my mother, with whom I'd chatted on my way over to the venue, had placed a little more emphasis than usual on my upcoming concert venture, even saying something along the lines of, "Who knows what surprises await you..." I certainly didn't know what she was talking about, though did find it sort of strange for her to be saying (thinking it was far more along the lines of something my dad would say. So I guess it made sense). Even my dad didn't know he'd be coming until an hour before he and Rob left; they'd hatched the plan late the night before, but my dad had hemmed and hawed; he had a workshop to attend, it was his son't birthday ("All the more reason for you to go see My Morning Jacket!," was Rob's rationale. My dad was sold). So there I was, spending the most delightful evening we'd had in months, weather-wise, being treated to several hours full of the positively golden voice of Jim James in the fine company of two of my favorite 50-somethings.

Not only am I glad I took these videos for posterity purposes, but they'll also provide some much-needed entertainment now that Olive has decided that sleeping isn't really for her (she woke a six to commence her awful hollering for two hours. She went down for her afternoon nap nearly two hours ago - not that she's having any of it). How quickly things changed from her placid state two nights ago!

She Knows Her Nose

2011-08-09T16:53:00.000-07:00

The other day I was playing around with Buggy, prompting her to make her whispery dog barking sounds, and I asked her to show me her nose, not at all expecting her to reach right up and touch it. Apparently she's been paying attention. Then, just to see what else she knew, I asked her to show me her ear (she did), her feet (yes again), hands (she clapped), and belly (this one I knew she knew; she likes to lift her shirt to admire her impressively round melon of a tummy). Another advancement is the move we like to call "goonwalking", since it's not unlike Michael Jackson's trademark Moonwalk. She skids her feet backward until she butts up against a stationary object.

Resolutions Addressed

2011-08-08T12:57:00.000-07:00

I decided it was time to take a look back on my list of summer resolutions to see just how productive I've been over the last couple of months. Not great, but not horrible, either.

Number 1 (Noah's Ark mural) was worked on a little today as I put the remaining coat of sky blue-tinted gesso on the MDF panels. A rough sketch (my sketches are very rough; I have a hard time spending too much time on something I know is only a preliminary draft) has been drawn and a good plan is in order. I need to work fast before my landlady rents that apartment and my sweet studio space is yanked out from under me. For this reason alone, the mural is my top priority.

The painting of Olive is most of the way done, and I plan to do more (on this one, and will do more paintings soon once the mural is finished). Here 'tis:

Since the sewing machine is in Zoe's room, I'm going to wait until she's gone to explore that. I've gone twice this summer to Loom, a wonderland of a fabric store down in the Strip, and its wares have filled my imagination with so much inspiration I'm itching to get down to business - but it will have to wait till the fall.

Our garden stinks, to put it plainly. I'm still not too down on it, though - as it was my maiden voyage with such an endeavor I'm pleased that I've been able to pluck yellow squash, peppers, lettuce and kale leaves, and a fine selection of herbs. Having a garden in our own back yard would make things oh, so much easier, but I'll take what I can get.

The housecleaning has actually been pretty successful. I've taken to vacuuming at least every other day, and an allowance deal has worked wonders for getting Zoe to keep her room looking less and less like the Allegheny County Landfill (I only wish I was exaggerating here). The house is usually, while by not means pristine (nor will it ever be), in a very manageable state thanks to my floor and bathroom cleaning and Rob's attentiveness to the kitchen.

The cats, I'm convinced, will never be trained to use the toilet, much less their litter box. It's a lost cause. What's not a lost cause, however, is Rob's cat food enterprise. Here he is, posing proudly with his brand new Tasin meat grinder. No more evenings spent laboring and sweating (and bleeding!) over the old manual grinder. In fact, he just walked in the door with a canner, a $20 score from one of our neighbors, so he can start selling his product to the public. On that note, if anyone is interested in organic, local, free-range, grain-free cat food, contact us and we'll ship it to you! He'll make it to order, too, depending on your pets' needs (Ché, for instance, is going to be given a "lite" chow from now on - chicken with the fatty skin removed. Our little gray cat will get the full-fat version for the foreseeable future).

I still can't believe I'm married to this guy.

We're no closer to getting my dream bike, but on the other hand, I'm still cancer-free, so I'll call that one a wash. I did, however, get this amazing dress on eBay (I have two weddings to attend in the coming year and didn't have an appropriate frock for the occasions). I'd been watching it for three weeks and got it with the "Buy It Now" option the night before the auction ended. If only I could find a way to commute to work on it.

No Gillian Welch in Bethesda for me this year, but only because I learned that she was coming here on October 19th, so I opted to save my gas and see her play locally. I'm kind of excited about it, and eager for Rob to finally witness the guitar wonder that is David Rawlings.

I'm still not certain what's going to become of the jail job. I'm going in to be fingerprinted tomorrow and work for them short-term until they can find someone permanent.

Guitaring is still at a stand-still, but I've been singing more to Olive which she seems to enjoy - mostly R.E.M.'s "You Are the Everything", a sweet little song, no? I should break out some accompaniment one of these days. Also, is anyone else wondering why Michael Stipe never got more credit for sporting that hair triumph in the mid-'80s?

The kombucha production is well under way! I've been enjoying some of my iced brew during these scorching days and it's almost as good as the Red Star brand stuff I get at the market that's made locally. I just need to perfect my recipe and work out a few kinks in order to get my drink to be as fizzy and snappy as that gal who cranks it out in Troy Hill.

Look at that SCOBY (symbiotic culture of yeast and bacteria)! That's one fine specimen.

Oh, and the album from that wedding that happened over two years ago? DONE. I ordered two boxes of archival "olde white" tab corners on eBay and the day after they arrived I sat down to allow myself the satisfaction of truly being able to strike one of the tasks from my list. All while Rob chatted on the telephone with his mama and pizza dough rose. It was one productive Friday afternoon. Have a look! And there's plenty of pages remaining to be filled with shots from our vow renewal ceremony. (I think I'm kidding, but then again, the idea of marrying that guy all over again is pretty appealing - and next time with more family and friends! Three family members and two friends with whom I still keep in contact left me with a few regrets about the actual day, but what I look each day at what I came away with I really can't be too sorry).

Cousins

2011-08-01T20:37:00.000-07:00

Since Rob is now gainfully employed at the National Aviary, Kellie so generously has been keeping Olive for us on Sundays, the day he and I both work. Yesterday when I went to pick her up I was eagerly awaiting her joyous response to my showing up at the door, having missed me all day. But what I got was so much better: the ever warm and impishly gleeful welcome from Jack and Gail, with two same-sized grinning gals, Iris and Olive, who had clearly enjoyed their day together. Olive was only mildly glad to see me, but was still happily distracted by her playmates. Having not seen Iris for several weeks since the Ryans were vacationing in the Midwest, I was astounded by her progress in the walking area. I knew it was right around the corner, but boy! She's on par now with Olive, it seems, and is leaps and bounds ahead of her verbally (though our gal has been getting more and more proficient with her mimicking. Having her older sister around this summer, I'm sure, has helped with that a lot). My heart swelled when my eyes met hers and I could read what a good time she'd been having. I feel so fortunate to be so close to my sister and her family now, after all those years of living nearly a thousand miles away. I love that Olive's getting to spend this time with her cousins, who are all such sweetlings I can hardly stand it. Plus, I could scarcely dream up a better caretaker than my wondermother of a sister. But I know the day will come when she won't want to come home with me, but I guess that will be okay, too, I suppose.

Jaunt to Maryland

2011-07-29T16:19:00.000-07:00

Shots from my Tuesday evening run on Buffalo Road. Despite the onslaught of new real estate (deliberately avoided by the camera. It's what you can't see on the right side of the road), the left side still has retained its bucolic beauty as I've always remembered it. I've probably run hundreds of miles on this road over the last fifteen or so years, and I love it.

Ah, going home. I love Pittsburgh, but of the fours states in which I've lived - Maryland, Tennessee, Maine, and Pennsylvania - there's nothing like my Old Line state. I wish we could've spent more time and seen a few more people, but Olive and I managed to squeeze in a blissful three days with my family and a few friends. Tuesday we enjoyed the company of my friend since the age of nine, Natalie, and her three year-old son, Jackson - a boy through and through with five new stitches in his little chin. They're always a fun pair to see, and spending time with Natalie is so wonderfully refreshing; never have I known someone who has changed so little in the twenty-one years I've known her. And she still towers a full head over me.

On Wednesday we made the harrowing-yet-nostalgic trek down I-495 to Falls Church, VA, to see Sam, my adorable college roommate and her arguably even more adorable ten month-old ice cream scoop of a son, Grant (seriously - his round, velvety-bald head resembles a heaping scoop of Breyer's vanilla. The rest of his body is comprised of marshmallow). Though she's got seven months on him, he outweighs her by a few pounds and his head dwarfs hers, making her appear even more pixieish. Later on that day my goon-girl and I took our first dip in Ben's mom's new pool. The water was warm and Buggy was eager to submerse herself herself in the saltwater-chlorine oasis - with her old Buddy and his doll of a sister, Jenna, to boot! This was pleasing to me since she hadn't taken what anyone would call a real shine to the Highland Park pool. Perhaps the water was always a little too chilly, or the kiddie pool a mite too crowded - or she was intimidated by the thirteen month-olds confidently paddling around her. Understandable. I could easily have spent another month down in Maryland, most of which would probably be spent at Ben's, but work called. Oh, and my husband. My dear, good, kind, and sweet husband. We arrived back home on Thursday night, and it felt so good. It was great to be away (the AC set at 81 degrees felt positively heavenly compared to the swampy air in our apartment), but it's great to feel such a sense of home-ness in our corner of this beautiful city.

Position in which I found my sleeping goon on night before I went to bed. She'd entertained herself for two hours before finally succumbing to slumber by pulling down Roma's box of football cards.

Grant "Scoopy" Fiddy, our son-in-law-to-be, gazing lovingly at the goon.
Grant had this rad stuffed tapir (!) - easily the coolest stuffed animal I've ever seen.

What to Do?

2011-07-27T16:24:00.001-07:00

I just returned home from a fantastic day spent with friends - the morning with Sam and Grant in Falls Church, VA, and later with Ben and his sister, Jenna, at their pool just down the road. Great, quandary-free day. However, when I checked my e-mail a message read that the full-time prison art teacher was not returning for the year and they'd like to hire me on to replace her rather than being the summer substitute. Listen, I have come in to fill the shoes of an art teacher who opted to not come back to her classroom, and I can honestly say that that was not the most pleasant experience, unless you count meeting Rob and bearing Olive as a result of that job. Now that I have secured those treasures in my life, I need not look to an art teaching job to obtain such things. This job would also fall on two of the four days per week that I watch my beloved Khorey kids. I'm not willing to give up that job in favor of this one, but I don't see how I can do both. I feel inclined to give this one a shot. I was dubious about my job in Maine when I was offered the position (in part because I was severely under-qualified; now I feel far more well-equipped to work with the criminal element), but great things were in store for me, I'd soon learn. It's selfish of me, though, to approach this decision with a "what's in it for me?" attitude. I know what I can bring to these inmates, for whom it is a great privilege to take these classes. I also know that it will be a humbling experience for me, and that I may, in fact, have a little to learn from some of these men and women. It's certainly more in my field, professionally, but I adore my nanny job and grow fonder of those three kids each week. I love that I get to bring Olive with me and the interaction that all four children have. I love that it's .7 miles away from our home. I also love that I'm able to provide consistency and structure in a busy household, and I'm honored to have been chosen to care for a family's kids. It's not a small thing.

Is it any wonder I'm sitting on the fence over this?

In the Last Week...

2011-07-21T19:44:00.001-07:00

...we've endured a bit of a heat wave. Though it's been in the 90s mostly the heat index has risen to above 100. I don't love it, Rob is melting, and Olive has been especially sticky-bodied and cruddy in her neck creases. Twice-daily cold showers do little to rinse away the sluggish feeling that this kind of weather elicits; I wouldn't bother except for the fact that they feel so divine. And we're still kickin' it without AC.

And while I'm on the subject of no AC, I have the opportunity to work in third world conditions where the temperature yesterday hit 98 indoors. Of course I've experienced hotter, but it was definitely the hottest I've ever been for that long a time span (9 1/2 hours) with no relief but a weak oscillating fan that blew around the fetid air. Mmmmm. I biked down to the market and didn't stop sweating until I walked outside at the end of the day. It was not at all unlike being in a sauna for far too long. I drank just under three gallons of water - an exorbitant amount of fluid, folks! - while I was there. It simply had to be done. Needless to say, no one was coming in to shop for oils that day, so it made my being there that much more depressing. Today, on the other hand, was a mild, almost autumnal 90-92 degrees. The customers all complained and carried around small paper fans, but all of us who stuck it out in the crematorium yesterday told them to be thankful that they hadn't been through the day before.

Amidst this unpleasant run of weather, we were visited by Rhett and Amanda, Rob's older brother and sister-in-law, who had driven from Oregon and are on their way to Hartford, Connecticut, where they're relocating for Amanda to attend pharmacy school. Of all the times for a couple of Alaskans-by-way-of-Oregon to come to our city! Both times Rob's siblings have come to see us the weather has been inhospitable (his older sister, Schelly, came in October to spend her one day with us in the chilly rain). We did decided to break out the window unit to make sleep possible for them in the back apartment where they stayed. Rob proudly gave them his behind-the-scenes tours of the aviary and zoo each day. I didn't get to see much of them because Thursday saw Olive struck with a fever so she and I stayed behind. She's been getting in a few more teeth, but I'm not sure the two things have anything to do with one another. The heat certainly wasn't alleviating the situation. Fortunately it only lasted the day and she was back to her old tricks the following morning.

I've been spending my evenings this week at the Khoreys' helping them get their house ready for a French family that is coming to live there for nearly a month as part of a house swap that they're doing. Nina, Lisa, and Alex, in turn, will be staying at their home in Marseilles. It's times like these that I wish I was a nanny to a passel of wee tots and I'd have to travel along with them on trips such as this. But then I wouldn't have an amazing and precocious almost-12 year-old with whom to spend my time. And since I can't go to France I'm taking the opportunity to go down to Maryland to see my family (my dad's sister, Holly, will be visiting from Florida while we're there) and all the friends I can possibly see in three short days.

A couple of videos, the first of which showcases Buggy's decidedly avant garde fashion sense:

Blueberry Sickness

2011-07-17T20:20:00.000-07:00

One of the advantages of having Olive's crib in our bedroom is that we can be at the ready should she ever wake in the night in a vomiting fit - or three. On Thursday night/Friday morning we were awoken after fewer than two hours of sleep to the miserable sound of an earlier premonition coming to pass. As I was putting Buggy to bed that evening I considered removing her shirt in case she should throw up. This has happened very seldom - so seldom that one would wonder why I'd even take precautions, but it crossed my mind. However, I dismissed it; she'd given me no reason to expect her to, yet I had, just prior to laying her down to sleep, allowed her to shovel nearly an "Amish pint" of blueberries into her face. This is what led me to believe that she wasn't, in fact, sick-sick, but merely sick of blueberries. I sprung from bed and leapt the foot and a half to her crib to find her in a puddle of purple mash. We removed her sheet and shirt, covered in the stuff just as I had feared, comforted her and put her back to bed. An hour passed before she was at it again. The third time it happened, not two hours later, I'd used up the last sheet so had to put down towels on her mattress. When we all woke at 6:30 she was fine and in good spirits. I'm convinced that it was simply a case of overindulgence.

It'll be a while before she has blueberries again.

A Nuddy and Nutty Goon

2011-07-15T19:31:00.001-07:00

Since I've been lax on the Buggy pictures lately, here are a few from the last week. She's been sweeter than ever lately, and I mean sweet. If someone had told me when I was pregnant that I'd have a child like her I would've said they were out of their minds - what did I do to deserve someone this absolutely delightful, this pleasant? (But I guess I could say the same about Rob; how did I land such people?). She's been a complete surprise.

Speaking of which, can she really be turning 17 months old next week?

Guitaring

2011-07-08T19:51:00.000-07:00

I found myself with no plans this Friday night. Rob was working late at the zoo (though not an overnight - those aren't fun for either of us), Zoe went to her grandmother's, and I was enjoying Buggy's company playing a game of Run and Hug where she'd run off just out of sight and spin round and dash at me with open arms. She'll lessen the distance between us each time till she's mere inches from me before she turns to deliver the precious hug, nearly choking with laughter. It's a game I enjoy quite a bit. Her literary choice this evening, Good Night Moon (or Good Night Goon, as I like to refer to it) was a series of more affectionate gestures: she made sure to kiss each and every character as the pages were turned. How I love those sweet kisses she gives. She's pretty generous with the ones she gives us, too.

I had a mind to break out the old guitar tonight after hearing a live version of Springsteen's Thunder Road on the radio, and Katrina must've read my mind because she called to see if we (or I, rather) wanted to have a music night. She came over shortly afterward, we played with Olive who went to bed very easily after setting her up in her crib with some reading material (she's always been a bit of a book nut, but tonight they were especially tickling her fancy. She sat in the large rocking chair in the living room for nearly thirty minutes babbling over The Very Hungry Caterpillar). Kat and I prepared a simple-yet-delicious dinner of sautéed broccoli, green beans, snow peas, and onions over whole wheat rotini pasta, then got out guitars and my Beatles songbook to play and sing. She had me teach her a few basic chords since she's always wanted to learn guitar and it was kind of nice to be back in the role of guitar teacher again. We're looking forward to more music nights in the future - especially when she can bring along her saxophone and Rob can rock out on the trombone.

Swamped

2011-07-02T18:05:00.000-07:00

It occurred to me this week that I am going to be utterly and completely bogged down for the duration of the summer. My cherished multiple-times-weekly pastime of posting on my blog will have to take a back seat to the wild and rip-roaring summer that is bubbling around me as I type. It is advantageous that I still haven't heard back from the folks regarding my teaching position at the local slammer; where did I think I was going to fit in that job? My criminal background check and child abuse clearances came through (whew.), so who knows? What I do know is that I needed a fourth job this summer like I needed to bleach my hair. The garden's already in danger of going to seed and Katrina and I have been working like serfs to whip the plot into shape and keep the rabbits and other vermin at bay. It's been terribly discouraging to witness the fruits of our labor chomped to nubs each time we go out there. Also, my running regimen has dwindled considerably in the last month. I'd been going strong in early June but having one more child in the house has taken up more of my time than I'd imagined, and I'm not keen on the idea of taking Olive out in the jogging stroller in the 90-something degree heat of the day. Sure, I could run the Baltimore marathon in October if I really wanted, but I'm not seeing how I'm going to be able to train properly for it until September at the earliest and thus I will wait until next year, I suppose.

Here's something way cool, though:

Rob was just offered a part as a stand-in for Batman in the newest movie that's going to be filmed here in Pittsburgh. He supposedly has the ideal height and build and no tattoos which make him a prime candidate. Unfortunately he had to turn it down because it requires availability on weekends and he just began part-time work at the aviary on Sundays and Mondays and his being there is critical. Still, we felt that it was a rad thing, indeed. If he weren't administering meds to sick birds, folks, you'd be seeing my dude in various shots all over the film. If it were me I'd have gone for it, but I do admire how committed he is to his work. Plus, I'd take Rob over Christian Bale any day.

High-5

2011-06-28T11:15:00.000-07:00

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

2011-06-23T13:19:00.000-07:00

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

2011-06-23T09:00:00.000-07:00

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

2011-06-15T11:21:00.001-07:00

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

2011-06-13T16:59:00.000-07:00

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

2011-06-12T17:10:00.000-07:00

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

2011-06-10T18:31:00.000-07:00

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!

2011-06-07T18:19:00.000-07:00

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

2011-06-07T05:52:00.000-07:00

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

2011-06-02T12:27:00.000-07:00

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.

The Work of a Goon

2011-05-30T10:04:00.000-07:00

Have a look at Buggy's latest:

Rob commented the other day as she methodically tapped away, "She's stippling." I hear a lot of folks observing that she looks just like Rob, but with this I can safely say that she's my child. She's kind of special, our little gal.

An Evening with the Avetts

2011-05-27T20:34:00.000-07:00

Taking full advantage of our urban locale and no longer being complete and utter paupers, Rob and I are treating ourselves to more and more live music. Last night was an evening with the Avett Brothers (not to mention about a quarter of Pittsburgh's under-35 smoking demographic). I'd been dubious about the crowd prior to going and my suspicions were confirmed, but it was a wonderful performance, nonetheless. Into the final leg of the show I got used to the cloud of noxious fumes and gave in, recalling the summers of 2002 and 2003 where I spent the majority of my off-work hours with Elaine, an old friend who blew through packs of Camels like they were her lifeblood. I hadn't been around so much secondhand smoke since then, so it was an adjustment, but leaving the venue was my only solution, and missing out on the show didn't seem worth it. I suffered for the cause, you could say. For those of you who are down with it, enjoy some vicarious clips:

Our sweet Katrina came and watched Olive for us and Rob came and picked me up from work. The Goon was more than happy to see him go and be left to wile away the evening with her pal. It's nice for the two of us to get out alone every once and a while. He's a sweet date, that Rob Cramer.

A Walk with a Friend

2011-05-25T10:47:00.000-07:00

Last week I met Catherine and Dylan when they came to our home to meet us while searching for an in-home nanny. While the position wasn't going to work out, I was thrilled to've found another mother in the neighborhood with a child not too much younger than Olive with whom to spend a little downtime. Catherine contacted me this morning to invite me out for a walk with her, Dylan, and their dog, Barley (Olive was duly pleased to have a "cat" along for the outing). I slathered Olive with sunscreen for the first time, fastened her sun hat under her chin, gave myself a liberal application of the SPF 30 and donned my own wide-brimmed hat, and off we went to meet our new friends. We strolled up to the park entrance then meandered on down to the child-friendly Farmhouse Park that has recycled rubber matting beneath the playground. Olive was far more interested in crawling through the tall grass (note to self: check for ticks!) but did take one trip down the largest of the slides before leaving. The plastic slide wasn't compatible with her rubber-soles shoes, so it was a leisurely ride for her, but she appeared to enjoy it nonetheless. Unfortunately I couldn't locate my camera today so the morning was not documented in pictures, but I know there will be many more like it to come. Oh, and did I mention that Catherine is British? Just listening to her is a joy in itself, and as a result I'm finding that I'm thinking with an accent. Funny how that works. She also lived in Baltimore when she first moved to the States, so there's that, too. What a pleasure it is to be living in such a wonderful place that is bursting with great people. What's the catch, Pittsburgh?

Dem Pirates

2011-05-24T09:34:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I will make an exception for pirates, those vile, vulgar, and absurdly over-hyped miscreants of the seas: our major league baseball team. While I used to immensely enjoy hitting a ball in the backyard with my dad, briefly collected baseball cards, and, for a period when I was eleven, slept with my head cradled in my glove, I never took to baseball as a sport in which to invest. Still, I wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to go to a $10-a-ticket Pirates game with Katrina, Rob, Olive, and Alex. There was a volunteer appreciation event going on there for those that helped out at the marathon, so Katrina was able to invite some guests and we were honored to be her plus fours. Before the game we sat round on the grassy lawn outside PNC Park eating pasta salad that was provided by the caterers and letting Buggy tool around to her heart's content. Kat and Alex feel pretty hard for each other during the course of the evening; I can tell when Alex is really keen on someone. She was attentive and silly with him, and he revels in such companionship. Neither Rob nor I had ever attended a professional sporting event, so the novelty factor was pretty high. The weather, which was predicted to be rainy and stormy, couldn't have been better for the occasion, with a pleasant breeze to combat the mugginess from earlier in the day (a pretty violent thunder storm hit once we'd gone to bed later on). We found our way to our seats and were pleasantly surprised when they were decent. The game didn't begin until 7:05, so we knew we'd be pushing it bigtime with Olive's bedtime (we were able to slip in a third nap today with this in mind); we wouldn't stay for the entire game, obviously, but we wanted to make it worth our while. By the time the 6th inning ended Olive was starting to come unglued, wriggling and bucking like a hostage while Rob, Kat, and I tried to keep her amused. She was already nearly two hours past her bedtime so we exited and were home by ten, but it felt more like midnight.

I love Alex's face here. So typical. I love that kid.

Do You Know What Today Is?

2011-05-20T16:24:00.001-07:00

It's our anniversary. I've been playing the song by Tony! Toni! Tone! in my head since yesterday afternoon. Though I've got to sling olive oils all day we're going out to celebrate the occasion at Nicky's Thai Kitchen. My friend and coworker, Siena, is coming over to man the fort while we dine. Olive will be in bed - ideally - so she won't have much to worry about.

Over the last week I've been flipping through this book I found at the Khoreys' called Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage. It was written by Elizabeth Gilbert, the author of Eat, Pray, Love, which I've never read - not really my style. If they're making a film adaptation with Julia Roberts (no dissage, J. R.! I love My Best Friend's Wedding, Erin Brockovich, and Steel Magnolias), it's probably a little too chick-litty for me. But what I've been reading in this Committed book is an interesting take on other societies' approaches to marriage versus our own. Here in America we expect to be made boundlessly happy by our spouse and feel cheated if things don't measure up to our absurdly high expectations all the time. In some cultures, choosing a mate is not a matter of love or even feeling, but of practicality and perhaps being in the right place at the right time. Ya hear that, Tina Turner? Love's got nothing to do with it. But here the love aspect is paramount, and once the bloom is off the proverbial rose, that's when marriages start to tumble downhill fast. Having been married for a whopping two years, I've yet to experience that dreaded descent into the Marital Abyss, but then I am reminded of the man I married. His constant quest for knowledge, improvement, and curiosity (sometimes perplexing; my busy mind can't be bothered, my sleep not plagued by wondering how long a centipede lives) for the minutiae really prevents things from going dull in our house. Without a doubt, I am in love with him, but even more than that, I like him a great deal. When I think of all the many people I like, admire, and whose company I enjoy, Rob is at the very top of the list. It's pretty easy to be married to someone like that. I'm awfully lucky that this amazing man feels the same way about me.

Note the blue collared shirt in both pictures of Rob. He thinks he looks pretty nice in that blue-and-brown combo. Well, he's right.

Yep, still pretty happy together after all this time. I'm hoping pictures we take in twenty years will reflect the same sort of contentment.

B'More or Bust!

2011-05-18T16:55:00.001-07:00

My nostalgia-induced desire, when I was visiting Maryland last month, to run the Baltimore Marathon this fall was legit. Three days after the big race I'm psyching myself out about hitting the streets again for another 42.195K jog. I figure that I might as well keep going when I'm already in the habit of running some longer distances - why start over again? And I am a sucker - an absolute sucker! - for that course and that time of year. A long run through my home state during my favorite month of the year when the air is crisp and clean (relatively speaking; it is Baltimore, after all) is hard to resist, especially when I felt so good after this last race. The day afterwards I was tempted to go out for a leisurely run with Olive round the neighborhood (though I did not. The rains have kept us housebound most of this week), which said a great deal about how my body recovered; in years past I was nearly immobilized, particularly when it came to descending stairs, for the next two days. So yes, I am going to register for the October 15th race and work hard this summer to get down to a sub-5 hour time. I think it's totally doable.

Second Word

2011-05-16T11:19:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, as Rob, Olive, Ché and I lounged around on our bed post-race, Olive was uttering her usual "Cat!" shout-outs to the black one. We have lately begun to try to familiarize her with the cats' names and reply, "Yes, cat. Ché." And then she said it very clearly: Cheh, repeated it several times. No names used in association with Rob, me, any of the Khoreys or others with whom she's familiar - just Ché. Pretty cute.

What was not cute was getting a call this morning while at the Khoreys from Rob requesting advice on what to do since Ché had relieved herself on his khaki pants he's required to wear to work. "Should I just put deodorant on them?," he asked, in all seriousness. Not to mention making a real mess of his already sodden trousers, the stench of the two substances combined would have him sent home early for sure. I recommended a liberal sprinkling of baking soda. An extra pair of khakis are also in order. I really didn't think that the cats could do more to put their stay with us in jeopardy, but this morning nearly put me over the edge. Last night before bedtime Wendell made a break for it while I was releasing a stinkbug. Unable to lure him back indoors I went to bed, knowing he'd be back in the morning begging to return inside. Sure enough, sometime in the 4 o'clock hour I heard him outside our bedroom window howling like a wounded fox. I went to the door (but oh! I was able to walk without much difficulty!) to let him in but come, he would not. The meowing continued and I asked Rob to let him in, and he cooperated. Having to wake up before five on consecutive mornings isn't my idea of acceptable, especially when one of those times isn't necessary. These cats are costing me my precious sleep and Rob his friends at the zoo. I was about ready to put them both up for adoption - ideally with a loving family here in the neighborhood - till Olive and I stopped at the Family Dollar to pick up a box of cat litter (though their box was clean when Ché committed her act, I can't give them more reasons to choose our clothing over the appropriate waste receptacle) and was enthralled by the abundance of feline imagery in the pet aisle. "Cah! Caah! Cat!", she bellowed, overjoyed by the presence of so many dear and recognizable friends. How could I get rid of the cats? They've become far more of a nuisance than pleasure in the last year, but Olive has already grown attached, and as much as I dislike it for myself, I do like the idea of her having pets, as they teach her to care for and be respectful of other living things. So this is why we remain a home with cats...until the next episode.

26.2 Through the City of Bridges

2011-05-15T14:30:00.000-07:00

I learned two things today as a result of running my third marathon: Light rain is ideal weather for a long race and Percocet should not be taken on an empty stomach. Yes, I'm embarrassed to admit that I cracked open my old bottle of the stuff (issued after Olive's birth) to help me get through the remaining six miles of the race despite nearly debilitating pain in my quadriceps. This morning I had my traditional scrambled egg pre-race breakfast, but I'd worked off those before eleven when I ran into our house for a bathroom break. Totally not worth it, especially since they did little to alleviate my discomfort. Shortly after finishing I was swallowed by a wave of nausea, and as my dad and I walked to meet Rob and Olive I had to stop and hang over a guardrail, though the feeling passed without incident. We walked to our car, which Rob had parked near the aviary, then swung by the market so I could retrieve my glasses I'd left there yesterday. I walked a few paces from the car and then WHAMMO - I vomited up all of the cups of water and orange slices I'd consumed. All over my shoes, but it was okay because it was just that - water and orange - not nearly as gross as it sounds. After we got home I had some watered-down juice which also made a quick exit. There's no way I'm about to eat food with my stomach rejecting everything that enters. Best to stick with the light stuff.

But back to the race. It was a wonderful morning to run with the rain falling softly. We never got the thunderstorm that was predicted, and the overall lack of sunshine (during the final mile the sun finally broke through the clouds) made conditions a lot more manageable. Aside from my quads giving me grief, I really had no other physical complaints (no chaffing, no blisters, no backaches), which is nearly miraculous considering all that can go wrong when running for upwards of five hours. Speaking of times, I completed the race in 5:15:16, nine minutes slower than my last race, but eight faster than my first. I never expected to beat my 5:06 time - not today, anyway; I'd heard that the course was more difficult with more hills, and my training left much to be desired. I beg to differ about the part about the course being more difficult, though. There was talk about a formidable hill at mile 11 leading into Oakland (home of Carnegie Mellon, Pitt, and the museums), but it was modest compared to some other hills I know in Pittsburgh (I'm looking at you, Hill At South Negley and 5th Avenues), and hills I conquered on the Baltimore course. This hill was a pleasant surprise, to say the least. Folks were out in droves (thanks to the weather that reined itself in for everyone's benefit), and it was great to see Kat passing out water at mile 16, then some neighborhood friends just before mile 20. I don't know the cause of my emotionalism, but no fewer then three times during the race did I nearly break down in sobs of joy; the first was when the race went beneath a bridge and the crowd cheered. Why this got me I'm not sure. When I was running down Negley Ave. towards our house and I first spied Rob's curly head poking up above our hedge did it, too. These are intense things, these marathons. I'm not sure if I'll do Pittsburgh again next year, but definitely the year after that. We'll see what kind of time I have for training with a two year-old.

Marathon Eve with Pop Pop

2011-05-14T18:30:00.000-07:00

Well, here goes! I'm feeling well, free of any aches and pains, the forecast for tomorrow predicts a diverse array of weather patterns that should keep the race interesting, and I'm heading off to bed. At 5:50 am, the "Half Marathon Party Van" is picking me up on my corner (they're making an exception for me, thankfully), so I'll be bringing a book with which to entertain myself for the hour before the 7:00 start. My father is here in Pittsburgh, which is always a treat. He met me at work then drove me home, visited with Olive and dined with us on some tomato basil red pepper fettuccine I bought at our pasta stand. With a belly full of pasta and popcorn (Rob and I just watched the final episode of Twin Peaks, a show that left a lot of loose ends untied, not to mention a pretty awful taste in my mouth. All in all a perplexingly entertaining show, but that's the early '90s and David Lynch for you!), I am retiring, ready for all that tomorrow has to offer. This time tonight I'll be finished!

Happy Birthday, Zoe

2011-05-10T11:29:00.000-07:00

Today Rob's daughter, Zoe, turns eleven. Hard to believe (so I can only imagine how Rob must feel about it). I can remember the first time I saw her when the local youth strings program came to play at my school; I'd already met Rob and knew about her, and when I saw her there was no doubt that she was his daughter. She was seven at the time, a little pixieish with a spring in her step (she still walks on her tiptoes and claims it's from trying to avoid broken glass while walking barefoot). I met her a year later, at age eight, and I've got to give her credit: if my divorced dad had gotten a new girlfriend I can't say I'd be too pleased and certainly wouldn't have taken pains to disguise my disapproval, but she immediately accepted me. What makes me feel even better is how often she voices her emphatic agreement about our partnership; she really feels like I'm the best person for her father, which means a great deal to me. That kind of support is priceless. It's strange to have watched her go from a little girl to the 11 year-old she is today (though I won't see that for another month or so). She's growing so quickly and she's turning out to be a pretty neat kid, which comes as no surprise, given who her father is. How could she not?

Happy birthday, Zoe Ramone!

Gardening at Night

2011-05-10T11:10:00.000-07:00

Last night Katrina and I went to work in our garden. I soon realized we had more than enough space in our double plot so invited Kat to come utilize the space - and offer up some of her advice, gardening knowhow, and capable hands. I'd neglected to factor in the time commitment when planning this garden, and am finding it very difficult to get in there and do the work that needs to be done with Buggy; tilling and weeding with a baby on the back is both tiresome and trying for her, so I don't do it. But now with Kat on board I'm finding the motivation and partnership I needed all along to get this piece of land whipped into food-bearing shape! She and I headed up there last night at dusk and worked until our eyes, adjusted to the dim light at 9 o'clock, could no longer make out the task at hand. The beauty of the situation - aside from the always-pleasant companionship and the joy of working in the ground - was that, at long last, I was living the 1982 classic R.E.M. number, "Gardening at Night". Such a fantastic song that always conjured up images of a bent-backed, green-thumbed old Georgian codger fumbling about in the overgrowth. Listen up, y'all:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m6uSU_TQBmE

Despite the fact that we logged only an hour or so of labor, we were impressed by the ground our two sets of hands covered. Our plan was to lay down sheets of cardboard to stifle weed growth, then lay down layers of compost and leaf mulch, but when we arrived we found that the combination of plentiful rain followed by a few days of sunlight had created a jungle of tall grasses and weeds, so we tilled and pulled up about a sixth of the plot. We will return on Wednesday evening for more of the same, then maybe one more session of maintenance until we can prepare the ground for our seeds. It's going to be one glorious garden, to be sure!

Gal About Town

2011-05-06T18:24:00.000-07:00

I've been feeling a bit more social than I have in many years, which is good in a lot of ways. I'm making new friends here whom I really cherish, and cultivating these relationships involves more hours spent away from home. Tuesday night was a regular late one spent with my Khorey kids closing down the Oakland branch of the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh (we love that place!), then dining at Little Asia. Wednesday night I joined Katrina and her friend, Erika, for tapas at Ibiza, a Spanish restaurant on the swanky South Side, and arrived home after Rob had retired for the night (he had an early aviary morning the next day). Last night I did turn down a tempting invite from Kat to see some live music put on by one of her coworkers in favor of relaxing with Rob. After putting Olive to bed tonight I left with a paper bag full of popcorn to bring to a housewarming party at Katrina, Shauna, and Cornelius' new place. As much as I was looking forward to officially celebrating their new residence with them and their other friends and sampling from the smorgasbord of edibles and potables, I was a bit dismayed that I was once again having to leave my husband and sleeping child behind. Early on in the evening I was filled with hope when, glancing at the doorway and the party entering the house, I saw a bald baby in the arms of a tall, dark-haired man. Rob and Olive!, I thought (as did Cornelius), before realizing that I'd driven over in the car and the man with baby was only Nathan, Shauna's boss, and his year-old daughter, Emerson. Rats. Nathan's cool, and it was nice to see his girls totting about and playing with the household's rabbit and talking to his wife, but in no way do they hold a candle to my favorite two. I visited for a while longer before loading up a plate with snacks for my Rob and beating a hasty retreat back home. Friends and evening outings are enjoyable from time to time, but with my husband is where I most love to be.

Kat and Shauna (that's fourth housemate, Mark, slinking across the background)

Alex, at 15 months - easily the youngest astronaut at the party!
An unknown near-eastern appetizer that sat untouched on the stove for the duration of my stay
Vanilla meringues made by Sarah, one of our very talented coworkers at the Public Market. She was not at the party because - get this - she has to get up at midnight to start baking her delectable goods for the next day of work. Mad props to Sarah.

Day at the Park

2011-05-05T10:49:00.000-07:00

Today was a much-needed deviation from the normal wet and chilly weather. I was almostcomfortable in my t-shirt, but only if the air didn't move about too much. Olive and I biked over to our lovely (I not not use that word loosely; I really do find Highland Park one green, tree-filled, easy-on-the-eyes place) neighborhood park, but not before wheeling around and giving the oblivious driver of a Home Depot delivery truck a severe talking to for blowing through a stop sign without so much as glancing in our direction. He seemed to not realize that a sign was at the intersection, being too consumed by his delivery location on the opposite corner. I let him have it; I've been nudged before by a motor vehicle while on my bike when the the driver wasn't being as observant as one would hope, and I've let it go, but when Olive is riding with me I have very little patience for folks who aren't paying attention to others on the road. Hopefully next time he'll look.

Anyway, we met up with Kellie and the kids, who passed me on my final ascent to the park. The Highland Park Super Playground was a real treat for Olive, who was enthralled by the seemingly endless network of steps and passages. It will be fun when she's a little older and will be able to play with her cousins, but now she's most content exploring on her own - and by on her own I mean completely independent of anyone else. When I try to steer her to a better area or away from the street she pulls at my hand insistently, then wails if I pick her up. Such is our pattern with parks, I've noticed. Thank goodness for water fountains.

She Has the Hives

2011-05-02T17:50:00.000-07:00

On about a weekly or bi-weekly basis, Olive contracts a mean-looking bout of hives. It always seems to not bother her, but the splotchy red rash that covers her legs and arms can be an alarming sight to a mother. I did some research on skin conditions and was relieved to see that Olive's spots closely resemble hives and not some of the uglier dermal disorders. Hives I can handle; impetigo I cannot (my brother had it as a baby and still wears the scar). Or Fifth's Disease, aka "Slapped Face Syndrome". Who wants to go round looking like they're slapping their 14 month-old? Not me. The problem with this rash is pinpointing the cause. She'll have sudden breakouts, as was the case this afternoon, and it's difficult for me to recollect specific things that may have led to her reaction. Today's occurred shortly after a diaper change, and Rob once speculated that it could be something as subtle as the wash cycle not rinsing out all of the detergent, though I doubt this is it, but who knows. I'm now looking into dietary causes. I think we can rule out wheat, as she frequently snacks on Trader Joes' stoned wheat crackers and Cheerios, and soy she consumes but not as often. She's still had no eggs, dairy, or shellfish, and has only had peanuts on two occasions, once being this afternoon, post-hives. The very first time we saw the spots we guessed they were bites of some sort, which is still a possibility. Though she's around the cats daily, I still haven't ruled them out and am happy to keep them high up on the list of likely perpetrators. If they're causing her hives - benign as they seem - they're out. I feel like I need just one final reason to send them packing, and if this is it, so be it. I can only handle so much more of stepping in and cleaning up Wendell's vomit after he's knocked over a box of crackers then feasted on the spillage, or Ché's recent affinity with spraying in laundry baskets.

Buggy's Maiden Voyage

2011-05-02T09:31:00.001-07:00

As soon as Olive rose from her morning nap we rode over to the bike shop to have her bike seat installed. It was a quick job and the two of us went out for a test ride as soon as we got back home. I'll have to get Rob to snap some shots when he's home so you can get the full effect of her in motion. And I'm going to have to get used to the change in weight; obviously the balance is a little askew from the 25 or so extra pounds in the rear, but it's nothing I can't handle. It's sort of like biking home, as I did yesterday, with a front basket full of food, work stuff, and a bouquet of flowers, except the consequences of me tipping over are far greater. The consensus: Like her ma, I think she's a fan.

"Just call me Jeannie Longo"

Back on solid ground

Mesmerized by the pebbly path at the Union Project next door

Sunny Days and Bicycle Seats!

2011-04-28T11:54:00.000-07:00

The past fews days here have been of the fabulous variety - warm, breezy, sunny - perfect for bikerides. Not that I've been out on the ol' Trek in a few weeks (it was, until yesterday, locked away in the rear apartment after a temporary tenant moved in and the landlady mistakenly locked us out and away from our remaining stored belongings). Today I became the thrilled new owner of a baby bicycle seat and will take it over to the Trek store as soon as I can to have the boys down there professionally mount it. I've got the instruction manual, but where's the sense in jimmying with this sort of contraption that is meant to safely contain my sweet goon-child when someone whose done it many times over will do it for a nominal fee? I can't begin to say how excited I'm getting just thinking of strapping her in with the little helmet atop her melon; she will be a sight to behold!

We've been getting out on more runs lately, too, and Rob has been taking one for the team and pushing Olive in the jogging stroller alongside me, then bidding me farewell for the rest of my run after he's done a mile. I'm pretty proud of him. I think I just might be able to pull of this race I'm running in two and a half weeks, thanks in large part to the new pair of Saucony Grid Ignition I got two weeks ago. I blame my recent back pain to the shoes I was wearing - New Balance something or others that were also new. I've been running in NBs since the late '90s and they'd always done well by me until this last pair. When I started feeling tension in my achilles tendon I knew something was amiss and immediately commenced the running shoe research which led to my next purchase. They're easily the ugliest pair of running shoes I've had in a long time - sugary-purple and silver, but I can't be bothered now with cosmetic details. I'd wear Disney princess tennies at this point if they promised to get the job done.

One more subject of note: I have just met and fallen hopelessly in love with a house in the neighborhood that is newly on the market. It's a steal at $399K but still very much out of our price range. It has six bedrooms, a pool, was built in 1920, a beautiful lawn, is on my favorite street in Highland Park, and butts up against the Khorey's backyard. I may just have to run another marathon to raise funds to go towards the downpayment. All contributors will get to come and live rent-free for a year!

Easter

2011-04-24T17:28:00.000-07:00

For the first time in four years I attended church on Easter Sunday. When I lived in Maryland it had become my tradition to take my great-grandmother to church then maybe go out to lunch afterwards. Then I moved to Maine which curtailed our Easter outings. This morning I went for the first time to East Liberty Presbyterian Church with Katrina. It was a beautiful service with songs that I knew (and made me a little weepy at times remembering singing them with Gi-Gi when I'd go to church with her), and a welcoming, diverse congregation, and I'd like to start attending regularly on Wednesday evenings since I normally work on Sunday mornings.

This evening we went to dinner at the new home of Katrina, Shauna, and her husband, Cornelius. Libby and Tucker, friends of theirs I met at church this morning, were also there and we shared a delicious meal of salad that we brought, fruit salad from Libby and Tucker, mashed potatoes and deviled eggs Katrina made, and breakfast sausage and mushrooms by Shauna. Their three-story rowhouse is a dream - light, airy kitchen, lots of fireplaces, a decorative staircase, and large windows. I love that I have friends to visit who live in such a neat place!

Shauna and her sausagey labor of love

Katrina told us all the fill our mouths with food and smile for the camera. Looks like I was the only one who followed directions.

I love that foam wallpaper made to look like pressed tin that was used on ceilings in days gone by. My parents had the same kind of stuff in the sunroom in their old house. Nice touch, and nice color, too.

Me, Shauna, Libby, and Katrina

First Post-Olive Date/Concert Review

2011-04-24T17:26:00.001-07:00

Thursday night was not only a big deal because we went on our first outing together without the Olive since her arrival, but the occasion was to see the Decemberists and Justin Townes Earle at the Benedum Center. Wow, wow, and wow. Katrina was a dear and came to babysit the goon, who had already been put to bed (but because being on the road all day for Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday her sleep was thrown off course a little bit and she woke up not long after we left). With it being my fourth time seeing the Decemberists live I knew what to expect, and though I enjoy the music of J.T.E. I was not prepared to be as awestruck as I was. The guy was phenomenal. Channeling Hank Williams circa 1949 like nobody's business, all gangly legs, pointed-toe boots and Tennessee shuffle. It was just him and a fiddler/backup vocalist and they put on a flawless show. After witnessing Earle's booming-yet-melodic twang and mind-blowing guitar work I could've gone home happy but I knew more good stuff was to come. The Decemberists did what they do best by pulling out some of their longer, more epic works (frontman Colin Meloy quipped that, "Whoever wrote the set list must've thought we were a "prog" band. We're a folk band," referring to the group's recent departure from their prog(ressive) rock reputation in favor a simpler, more folksy sound. I hadn't heard much off of their latest album, The King is Dead, released early this year, but it's obvious that my favorite, R.E.M., was a big influence; they even pulled in Peter Buck, the band's guitarist, to sit in on a few tracks on the album. During their performance on one of these numbers, "Down By the Water", just when I was thinking of the particular R.E.M. album that would feature that song, Rob leaned over and said, "I can just imagine them singing FIRE! right now." And he was exactly right. Take a listen to the video clip I've included and tell me that this isn't a total "The One I Love" knockoff. Tell me. I would've taped more of the show but I was being a renegade and disobeying the Benedum's "No Recording Devices or Cameras" policy. I didn't want to push my luck. They played quite a few of the new songs, which I knew they'd do, and in my preoccupation with being a mother I neglected my normal pre-concert homework of getting to know the album front and back. They did do one of my favorites: "The Bagman's Gambit", a really, really cool song about star-crossed lovers - one working for the U.S. government and the other a Soviet spy. Meloy has a real gift for intelligent songwriting that veers refreshingly from the trite, and his language is so creative, if not over-the-top at times. It was little wonder that their set was only fourteen songs long; their first encore was the just-under-twenty-minutesThick as a Brick-esque five-part suite, The Tain. I'm still not sure what it's about (the theft of a cow, or so I'm led to believe) but I am sure that it's amazing. They capped off the night with a tender "June Hymn", an ode to early summer, and it brought a tear to my eye. It was oh, so very nice to attend a concert again. I've come a long way from the days when I'd catch at the very least a show a week, but it's good to dip my feet into the waters from time to time.

Feeling like a tourist in the theater district

Get a load of this chandelier! Twenty feet tall. I love it.

Spring Break Quick Trip

2011-04-22T20:00:00.000-07:00

This post is going to be rife with visual aids, so it will hopefully make up for the recent ones where I skimped on photos.

Since I was off work for four whole days this week Olive and I zipped down to Maryland on Tuesday morning after dropping off Rob at the aviary. I was doubtful that the trip would happen since the goon was feeling less than perky the evening before with a low-grade fever, but when 5:30 am rolled around she had most certainly come 'round. We only had two days to pack in all the visits that we wanted to have (and still missed a few, regrettably), so there was a lot of time spent in the car. Expertly gauging and avoiding the DC beltway traffic, we went to visit Sam, my college roommate and 7 month-old son, Grant, who is still wonderfully bald as day is long. Sam's mother, brother, and stepfather were visiting from Massachusetts, so it was really good to get to see all of them, too. Her husband, Howard, got home from work right as we were getting ready to leave. Always a treat. Olive was delighted with Grant, gently touching his velvety head and giving him sweet kisses. I'm glad to have had the cats because I think they've taught her to handle other living things with care.

Wednesday was gorgeous and 80 degrees. Ben graced us with his presence, and when Olive and I went to greet him in the driveway it was clear from her immediate grin that he was no stranger to her. I'm looking forward to seeing the many photographs he snapped of her out on the deck. When she rose from her afternoon nap Ben left and she and I left for Baltimore, first to visit Amaryllis, the jewelry store where I used to work, then see Christina and Teresa, two of my old coworkers from there. Allie, my beloved old boss, was working and it was delightful to see her as always. Olive wasn't at all interested in the jewelry in the cases but in the fax machine on the floor - very telling. It was so great to be back in my old city and see my friends, some of whom I've known for nearly ten years. I'm always a little sad that I don't live there any longer and probably won't again. It's just not a place I see raising my family and I've already spent a good part of my life there, so I can be satisfied to leave it at that, though when driving through the northern sections of the city en route to Teresa's house in Towson I was tempted to think about signing up for the marathon in the fall. We'll see how the one here goes in three weeks before I commit to anything I can't handle.

Getting comfortable at the in-laws'
That's him, the boyfriend.

Uncle Trev
Buggy and Sam's mom, "Oma"

Trying to make sense of Christina's hair

The handsome rowhouses of Baltimore's Charles Village

Blueberry Goon

Happy Birthday to My Sis

2011-04-19T17:57:00.000-07:00

Today my little sister turned 27 years old. Though I have a number of friends who are a few years younger than her it always strikes me as funny since she's always sort of been a little girl to me (don't worry, Kell - I regard you much more highly than that, but I think you know what I mean). Though I didn't get to see her today, I know she rung in her 28th year with lots of sweet tots by her side.

Hope to see you soon after we get back to Pittsburgh, Boot!

Going 'Round the Bend?

2011-04-16T18:00:00.000-07:00

To use a phrase favored by my mother, I swunny. Today I finally started feeling like the walls were closing in on me. Though I was able to make it out the door to work this morning without having to call in the S.W.A.T. team to locate my car keys or forgetting to bring something critical like the cash drawer with me to the market, things are beginning to pile up and go awry. I honestly don't know how my sister does it. It's not like my job is all that taxing, but it does involve some take-home business for me wherein I utilize my never-impressive mathematics skills to balance the earnings of not one but two booths (I know, I know. Woe is me for having to count cash and bottles of olive oil when some folks' work consists of circumventing the intricate network of arteries to perform life-saving surgery). I left work early to be home in time for Rob to get to his overnight educator job at the zoo. While walking to the car Olive's full bottle (that we'd just found under the couch not thirty minutes prior) fell out of the diaper bag and landed with a heartbreaking shatter on the cement. We'd done remarkably well with our two Dr. Brown's glass bottles over the last year, so it was really the loss of milk that pained me most. Olive and I dropped him off then headed back down to the market because I'd not brought in the correct key for the zippered envelope for making bank deposits so I needed to go back to take care of that, only I couldn't find those keys while I was home (where were they?, you ask. Oh, just right on the shelf where they always are, just hiding behind a box of batteries).

I think my biggest problem is that our apartment is trashed and I can't live here with a clear head so I'm constantly going around in an addled fog. This must be how a drug addict must feel, I think sometimes. I can easily see why people hire housekeepers - because they simply cannot maintain their spaces themselves. I fear that I am one of those people, and it's really starting to drive me batty. I work all the time, Rob works quite a bit, too, and I have a hard time tearing myself away from those sweet moments together with my family to give the place the thorough reorganizing it needs. It may be time to hire a professional.

Oh, What a Glorious Day!

2011-04-15T04:23:00.000-07:00

After being thwarted numerous times by unfavorable weather, sick children, or scheduling conflicts, our plans to visit the zoo with the Ryans finally came to pass. As Iris had never been there outside of the womb - their last trip was made just three days before she was born last May - I'd say it was high time. While Olive and I waited for them to arrive we took in the gorillas to see what sort of hijinks our old pals were up to. We browsed the grounds more once Kellie and her brood arrived and I was once again amused by how worked up Jack becomes over the small things; while standing by the fence surrounding the giraffe and elephant enclosure, it was the school of fiery orange koi that had his rapt attention. "Momma, I've never seen a fish before!" Because wildlife of the African savanna is commonplace in his world but fish...well, fish are the epitome of exotic.

Because we got to the zoo right about the time Olive would normally have been bedding down for second nap, she was contemplative, quiet, and a little bit irritable, so we departed as the Ryans were setting up for lunch near the sea lions. She dozed sweetly in the stroller (it was a little warm for the Ergo) on the 30-minute walk home and transitioned easily to her crib once we arrived back home. After a day spent in the sunshine that's been pretty rare this month, I would've gladly done the same.

Sweetiedoll Iris
Jack and Gail. Little did they know they'd get to see fish at the zoo!
The new African painted dog puppies. Ridiculously cute little mongrels.

Another cute mongrel