Summer Reading

"MO-OM. Why are you SAD? Stop crying!"

Yes, sometimes I cry at picture books. Especially beautiful ones, at a page where a dad is packing his daughter's stuff into the car so he can drive her out of the city, away to college, and he needs that really useful piece of rope the family relied on years ago when they left South Carolina for New York.

"It just makes me sad to think of when you'll be ready to leave, that's all." (Stifled sob.)

"Stop it, Mom. This is not a sad book."

The callousness of a six-year old can be astonishing. Anyway. This Is the Rope: A story from the Great Migration is wonderful, and if you're me, it's also pretty moving. Wyatt, on the other hand, mostly loved the detailed illustrations, especially the ones of the children. He was also impressed with one of the later illustrations, where the mom has just come home from work and is teaching her daughter the "Miss Lucy" jump rope song.

We've checked out a bunch of books to read, all pulled from the list my friend gave me this spring. Wyatt will be getting his San Francisco Public Library Summer Stride prize in no time!

(My own reading has been put on hold for a bit while I finish a mess of work on some knitting patterns. Next for me is finishing Mo' Meta Blues and then diving into Lincoln in the Bardo.)

What are you reading this summer?

From Dye Workshop to Shawl

Check out this shawl I just finished. Isn't it pretty? Aren't the colors great? The pattern is Hiraeth (with a couple of modifications because I wanted to use as much of my 1000 yards of fingering-weight yarn as possible). And the yarn? Well, I DYED IT MYSELF! Maybe not all by myself, exactly. I also had lots of guidance, thanks to a workshop hosted by Sincere Sheep and Kira K. Designs at Sincere Sheep's studio in Napa.

The workshop was super fun and incredibly instructive. To be clear, I am all for DIY experimentation when it comes to art or craft. But with natural dyes and nice yarn? I want to feel like I might actually get a result I want. Left to my own devices, the threat of disappointment looms large. I love to learn from Brooke (of Sincere Sheep). Her dyeing set-up is terrific, her knowledge of natural dyeing is astonishingly deep, and she infuses her spirit of generosity into every aspect of her teaching. I chose this particular workshop because gradient yarns have always confounded me. I didn't know how they were made, and I didn't know how best to knit with them. Now I know those things, and more.

Here are some photos from the workshop, Natural Dyeing Gradient Yarns.

We started the day by looking at all our color choices, and then we sketched how we thought we wanted our colors to go, from one end of the knitted blank to the other. For gradient yarns, which are yarns whose colors change over the length of the yarn, you can get that drifting color effect by starting with a "blank." A blank is yarn that has been knitted (usually by machine) into a long rectangle. You then dye the rectangle of yarn (which has also been mordanted, so the dye will stick), and when dyeing is complete and the blank is dry, you unravel the blank into a ball from which you can knit. Brooke guided us as to which dyes to use and in which order to achieve our desired effects. I chose to do gradients of green, from light to dark, on one blank (I used fustic and indigo). On the other, I went with greys and purples (I used fustic, logwood, tannin, and iron--I think. I can't find my notes!)

I thought these two skeins would look pretty marvelous together, but I didn't have an exact project in mind.

Once home, I let the thoroughly rinsed yarn dry, and I gleefully unraveled (ripping with abandon!) the blanks and wound them into cakes.

I then began searching for a pattern that I thought would work. I looked for fingering-weight yarn patterns that would use about 1000 yards of yarn. Eventually, I chose Hiraeth, and I modified the pattern as I went along to use more of the green skein and then to not run out of the purple one. I had to rip out some rows after realizing I had miscalculated, but it wasn't that bad.

I finished this project in record time. It is my first shawl. For all the knitting I have done, I have steered clear of shawls mostly because I have no idea how to wear them so that they look good and I don't feel silly. But enough insecurity! 

I think I now understand why so many knitters are shawl-obsessed. Shawls like this one can be really beautiful and easy and meditative to knit. They can also feel interminable, but that's not really something special about shawls. Also, the things that can drive you to distraction when knitting a sweater or a hat, like gauge, size and fit, are not really important in a shawl. As long as you're pretty close to the gauge the pattern requires, you'll have enough yarn and your shawl will drape and fit just fine. Low stress knitting at its finest.

I love a project like this one that teaches me things. In addition to learning to appreciate shawls, I now also know how gradient skeins are made and how to knit something lovely with them.

My New Favorite Cookbook

... is Salt Fat Acid Heat.

I suspected it would become my new favorite after I volunteered to test recipes for it over a year ago. Marc, Wyatt and I agreed that all of the recipes we got were so good, I should save them to reference and use again and again until the book was published. So that's what I did: Tuna confit and sauces galore!

I bought my copy of the book from Omnivore Books a couple of months ago. This weekend, Wyatt and I headed over to Omnivore to meet Samin Nosrat and Wendy MacNaughton, and to get our copy signed by both of them.

We were a little late, and the shop was packed. So we waited outside and met some lovely people and their dogs, including Willy the Terrier (who did circus tricks for us) and Tess the Bulldog (who is so sweet, has one eye, and still manages to do all the important things in life). Our sidewalk status meant we didn't get to hear Samin and Wendy's talk. But never mind! We figured we'd just wait in line for the book signing. But like I said, it was packed in the shop, and after we had been in line for awhile, the line got reconfigured. Suddenly, we found ourselves totally OUT of the line, so I asked a woman who was still IN line if we could merge in front of her (doesn't merge sound better than cut?). She was very generous, we merged, and when I asked her what the talk was about, she gave me an incredibly detailed description of what went on. It was almost as good as being able to hear it myself.

We got our book signed, and we got some really heartfelt gratitude for having been recipe testers.

The book is unlike any cookbook I have ever used. Part extremely friendly textbook and part recipe reference, it reminds me a little bit of the online class I took and loved, Science & Cooking. By reading the book, you learn the "why" and "how" behind the four elements of cooking, but in addition to that, you start to build a deep understanding of how to best combine ingredients, flavors, and textures to make delicious food. There are beautifully illustrated charts, examples, and explanations. It's a book from which you can actually learn to cook and free yourself from being tied to recipes.

I've read the sections Salt, Fat, and Acid. I've just started reading Heat. And despite Samin's written admonition not to, I have skipped ahead and made some of the recipes in the second half of the book already. This weekend, we had the Vietnamese Cucumber Salad (I used toasted pepitas instead of peanuts). I served it with Baked Panko Rockfish (substituting GF flour and GF panko breadcrumbs) and coconut-herbed steamed rice. The salad was my favorite part, and the little bit that was left over was still terrific the next day.

Spring, Summer, and Strawberry Cocoa Jam

Spring is almost over, and summer is almost here.

I know this fact is true not only because Wyatt's last day of school is this Friday, but also because the fava beans are done fava-ing. This week, we learned that it's time to plant pumpkins, so we helped chop up the fava stalks, turned over the soil, and planted some pumpkin seedlings.

Volunteering is good to do, right? So we started volunteering this winter. Volunteering in the Presidio Nursery was something tangibly good and family-friendly that we could do regularly in service of our community. The work immediately became something we looked forward to every week. And to be perfectly honest, if it hadn't been fun, we would have stopped going. I have learned that even the most easygoing six-year olds don't suffer drudgery or duty without whining and pouting, and I already have enough drudgery, duty, and six-year old whining and pouting in my life. In the last few months, we've gotten a t-shirt, washed, emptied, and filled pots, weeded, transplanted, pruned, watered, swept, repaired irrigation systems, shelled fava beans, found creatures, and collected seeds from native plants. It would be nice if every weed we pulled, every native plant we saved, and every new friendship we nurtured sent a grain or two of sand flying into the gears of the current federal administration. But resistance comes in many forms, and I'm content to know the work we have done has been good for us and our community.

As our schedule shifts into summer camps and less predictability for the next couple of months, we'll be in the nursery less. But we will fit in some Saturdays, and we plan to get back to more work in the fall.

But between now and fall, there's summer, which is berry season! Yesterday, we picked some raspberries, and we're eyeing our blueberries, waiting for them to ripen. Berry season is the best. Buy or pick organic ones. I'm partial to blueberries and raspberries, but if you find yourself either out of jam or with too many strawberries (either by design or by accident), definitely make some Strawberry Cocoa Jam from Marisa McClellan's book, Naturally Sweet Food In Jars. The jam is unlike any I have ever tasted. It's rich, dark, and frankly incredible.

Breakfast For Dinner

I know three people who love eating breakfast for dinner: Wyatt, our friend Margaret, and me. And when I say love, I mean we LOVE IT. We anticipate it, plan it, cook it, and eat it with a level of gusto that many people reserve for Christmas or Thanksgiving.

BFD didn't start out as BFD. It started as Margaret coming over to have drinks and do crafts with me after Wyatt was in bed. It was terrific. I got friend time while we worked on fun projects, taught each other new skills, and talked about big things. Also, her being game for a pretty scruffy and low-rent version of a night out freed me from the stress of worrying I'd be late meeting her somewhere or would have to cancel at the last minute because Marc was delayed. Soon, though Wyatt understandably began complaining that he wasn't getting any Margaret time on those craft evenings, so we invited her to come over for dinner, too. I cooked and served actual dinner food. That combination of dinner-crafts-and-drinks was even better. But, the evolution was complete when we realized our shared love of BFD. If you ask me, when you add art or craft to BFD, an evening reaches new heights.

I think BFD with Margaret may be a tradition already. We always make waffles,* bacon, and some form of eggs (scrambled, frittata, or mini-frittata-in-muffin-tins-with-chive-flowers-on-top). We also have salad--fruit or vegetable. One salad was roasted beets with greens, goat cheese, and a citrus dressing. Another was cut fruit. It's quite the celebratory spread. Usually, Wyatt and I cook some of the things, and Margaret brings some of the things and finishes cooking or assembling them at our house.

Last week, Margaret had a free afternoon, so she came over early. She gave us a drawing lesson.

And then we cooked together. I learned how to cook bacon in the oven, and Margaret got to see me make the waffles in real time. Wyatt thought the flowers growing on the chives would be a lovely garnish to the mini-frittatas, so he was Chief Frittata Decorator.

Then, we ate together. We all agreed BFD was even more incredible than usual. Marc concurred later (but his love of BFD is less overwhelming than Margaret's, Wyatt's and mine).

After Wyatt was in bed, Margaret and I had more time to catch-up, uncensored.

Going out is fun, and being fancy can be SO FUN. But "out" and "fancy" are hard for me to muster these days. Lately, I'm so grateful for a friend like Margaret who meets me--literally and figuratively--where I am.

*For waffles, I make a double recipe of Pamela's waffles. I substitute half of the baking mix with It's Wholesome Hi-Protein Pancake mix, add more water until the batter is the right consistency, and strategically drop in blueberries just before closing the waffle iron.

Art, Music & Dance

"Mom. Maybe we can bring the cassette player downstairs so I can keep listening while I get ready for my recital."

I wonder if I will ever have a better, more unexpected parenting moment than getting my son ready for his first dance recital to the wobbly-sounding tunes of dump-rescued cassette recordings.

Saturday was a huge day. It was Dance Recital Day. Fortunately it was also other things, too, like the reception for the Recology Art Exhibition, because it's a long day when the thing you're most excited about is at the end.

In the morning, Marc and Wyatt worked on some paper airplanes while I was at the gym and did some errands. Once I was home, we opted for an early lunch. Wyatt learned how to make tuna melts.

After lunch, Wyatt and I headed off to Tunnel Avenue to check out the art show (while Marc went on a super-secret errand to buy flowers for after the recital). We enjoyed the art show just as much as the last one. Wyatt loved Carrie Hott's exhibit the most, and Nathan Byrne's almost as much. The projects were so amazing that we had to keep reminding ourselves that every single thing, down to the paint, had been sourced from the dump. The "free table" was really fun this time--lots of cassette tapes. Wyatt chose to bring home two of them, a commercial recording of Diana Ross, and a home recording of Lionel Richie. He has been listening to both of them, punctuated occasionally with Marc's tape of The Cure's Greatest Hits, nonstop.

When we returned from Recology, it was showtime. Or at least time to great ready for showtime.

Thanks to the direction (and infinite patience) of guest teacher and choreographer Byb Chanel Bibene, Wyatt and his classmates performed a dance evoking the Mbouanda Celebration in the Niari, a department in the Republic of the Congo. In addition to having a solo, Wyatt was really looking forward to the body paint Byb promised to do for him, and he was awfully excited to hang out backstage without Marc or me and do crafts until his group's turn.

The recital was everything (and more) you'd expect from a performance of 160 children. We were thoroughly entertained for the entire 75 minutes. Wyatt's class performed the final dance, and Wyatt was the first one on stage. He couldn't have looked happier or have been more attentive to his performance. I smiled so hard for him that my cheeks started to hurt.

After the show, as Wyatt led me backstage to get his flip-flops and flannel shirt, he explained how fun it was backstage, how hidden the stage door was, and how I didn't know where anything was, but he did.  And he explained his body paint came from a big jar that Byb had brought with him.

"Look. Byb drew Congolese suns on my front and back. He didn't even have to use any brushes. I can't wait for the next show. When IS next year's show?"

Prince: The Painted Lady Butterfly

"Mom. Prince doesn't want to leave. Can you set the house back up so we can let him stay another night? It's kind of nice, actually, because I still have one butterfly left. It was sad to see all of them go."

On Mother's Day evening, as we sat on the sofa in the kitchen trying to decide what to do about dinner (after a large and delicious lunch that included this bloody mary for me at the Presidio Picnic), I heard a rustle-rustle. I looked over to the pantry, hoping desperately I was imagining things.

"You guys. I heard a rustling sound. I'm worried it's a mouse. I do NOT feel like unpacking the entire pantry right now."

"It's probably the butterflies, Mom. OH OH! IS IT THE BUTTERFLIES? DID THEY HATCH?"

Wyatt's grandparents sent him a butterfly kit for his birthday, and the butterfly house with chrysalides was right beside me, under a little table in the corner. We hoisted the house out, and sure enough, two butterflies were out of their cocoons, fluttering around. Within a day, the remaining three butterflies had emerged.

Today was the day we were planning to let them all go. But it was misting and raining a little bit, and Wyatt protested--it was not nice enough weather to send the butterflies off into the world. Eventually, though, when the sun emerged, he changed his mind and headed outside with them.

"Mom, wouldn't it be great if we could just tie a little paper tag to their leg, that said, like, maybe, 'Josh,' so that when the butterfly flew back, we could be like, 'Hey, look! It's Josh!' Or maybe Michael?"

Yes, butterflies flying around with tiny nametags on their legs would be pretty great.

Four out of five butterflies eventually took flight and disappeared out of our garden. Of those, two stopped on our fingers or jeans to bid us good-bye, and the other two just flapped away furiously, as fast as they could, wanting absolutely nothing to do with us. Pretty standard butterfly behavior. The fifth butterfly, though, is oddly lovely--a little like a lap dog. The smallest and last to emerge from a cocoon, it was also the last one left in the butterfly house today. It wouldn't leave until Wyatt eventually coaxed it out. And then it flew around the garden three separate times, only to return every time to the wilted parsley stalk in Wyatt's hand. After over 40 minutes of playing with the butterfly (it was walking from Wyatt's finger to the parsley stalk, then to a chive flower, and back to the stalk , then back to Wyatt's finger, pausing with wings open, and wings closed, over and over again), Wyatt said, "I don't think Prince is going to leave today. I don't want to leave him outside. Can you set up his house and food again? Maybe he'll want to leave tomorrow. Or maybe not."

How could I say no? We'll see what happens tomorrow. Prince has been very still since he came back inside. I keep checking to see if he's dead, and every time I start to unzip the top of the house, I swear he waves an antenna or a leg at me: "Not dead!"

It was a great Mother's Day even before the butterflies emerged (and I learned it was not a mouse in our house). I got to read in bed in the morning, Marc and Wyatt made breakfast, then I went back and read MORE in bed. I am the proud new owner of a 16 kg kettlebell, and at school, Wyatt got to make MORE FELT BALLS for a Mother's Day felt ball necklace for me. I about died when I opened the gift. He explained he had to make five balls, everyone had to make five, but you could make more if you wanted. "WHY WOULD SOMEONE MAKE MORE THAN FIVE?" he asked incredulously. He, understandably, did the minimum.

I, on the other hand, have been doing more than the minimum in the kitchen, lately. Spring vegetables! They're so welcome after a winter of frittatas made from sturdy, leafy greens.

We had an amazing Salade Nicoise (The Un-Composed (i.e., Best) Niçoise Salad Recipe) the other weekend. Hooray for green beans! Make everything, including the potatoes, the way they say. They're astonishingly good! Also? These two guys are great at veggie prep.

We also had a quinoa salad for days (and no one minded the leftovers, for once), inspired by one of the meals we had with our friends in Los Angeles. For the quinoa salad, soak the quinoa seeds (grains?) overnight, and then drain and cook them according to the package directions, using vegetable broth instead of water. Grill or broil asparagus, some sugar snap peas and leafed brussel sprouts, grill (or just blister the heck out of on your gas stove burner) a sweet red pepper, peel it, and then cut all the vegetables (except the brussel sprout leaves) into bite sized pieces. Toss all of the vegetables together with some chopped herbs and the quinoa. Dress with a vinaigrette, add salt and pepper. Eat warm, cold, or reheated.

Do You Like Tangerine Vanilla Marmalade?

Last week, Wyatt found himself at the intersection of Jeffrey Steingarten (The Man Who Ate Everything) and Paddington Bear (profound lover of marmalade). Let me explain. 

When we returned from Los Angeles, I was confronted by about 10 pounds of tangerines that had been collecting in the refrigerator over the last few months, thanks to our bi-weekly veggie (and and tangerine) box. The tangerines were not delicious enough to eat on their own, and yet there wasn't anything actually wrong with them, so I kept sending them to refrigerator purgatory. I tucked them to the back of the crisper drawers and shelves until there was nowhere left for me to hide them, and there was little space to put other food we were actually going to eat.

Initially, Wyatt thought it would be great to juice all of the the tangerines for himself. He hand-squeezed about a pint of juice while I researched how to make marmalade. Around the time Wyatt's arms were ready to fall off, I had settled on a marmalade concept (Tangerine Vanilla) and had chosen a recipe.

"Mom. I don't even know WHY you're going to make marmalade. I don't LIKE orange rinds in marmalade, or in chocolate, or anything," Wyatt said as he wrinkled his nose and waved a hand in front of his half-open mouth,  as if even the concept of marmalade was putrid. "Well, Dad likes it, your arms are tired, and we might as well try making it with tangerines," I said. "Can't we just get a juicer?" "No," I laughed, "we're not getting a juicer." "Fine. I haven't tried tangerine marmalade. And I like vanilla. So I'll try it, but I don't feel like making it."

So I made it. I followed the concept in this recipe, but actually followed this recipe, ratios, and these canning instructions to get the job done, because it is only with the support of Marisa McClellan that I dare to can. I steeped and cooked one-and-a-half split vanilla beans in the marmalade pot, and once the marmalade tasted vanilla-y enough to me, I removed the pods, scraping the seeds into the pot.

Initially, the marmalade was too runny (I missed this part--save the seeds!), so I re-boiled it (what a pain, but worth it), re-canned it, and it set after that.

Marc loved the marmalade, I thought it was very good, and when Wyatt tried a taste the next morning, he immediately said, "This is great!" followed just a moment later by the putrid-face-hand-wave, "No. I still don't like it." It was the rind--he still couldn't stand it.

I gave a jar of the marmalade to my friend and her daughter (who's Wyatt's friend). My friend reported back that her daughter thought I had forgotten to remove all the pieces of rind, and that she didn't care for it. I understood completely. But three days later, things had changed. My friend explained,  "She tried it again this morning, and asked for more because she found she actually did like it!"

I told Wyatt about his friend's change of heart, and he suddenly got very serious. "Mom. How many days did she try it for?" I said, "Oh, I don't know. Maybe three or four?" He responded, "I only tried it for two. Give me some, now please, on a cracker. With butter." He started to nibble, then bite, and then he ate three more crackers with butter and a thick spread of marmalade, because as he said, "I LIKE IT NOW. It's really good."

It occurred to me this was some kind of weirdly positive (but possibly short-lived) peer-pressure situation that Wyatt had taken as a competition, and he'd just start avoiding marmalade again as soon as he reasonably could. But no. He has continued to eat marmalade, discuss it, and hoard it with the zeal of the newly converted.

When kids come around to liking challenging foods or flavors, like the bitterness in marmalade, we praise them and congratulate them for being open-minded and continuing to taste new (or old) things. But this type of encouraging response isn't one I usually offer to adults, and I probably should offer it, albeit in a more subdued way. When reading the hilarious (and accurate) Oatmeal piece on core beliefs, it occurred to me that in addition to being willing to stop, listen, and change, we should also be ready to accept and embrace it when others change. What use is, "Well, you didn't USED to like marmalade!" or "I TOLD you marmalade was GOOD!" when really, all you need to say is, "Oh, wonderful! I'm so glad you like it. Would you like a jar to take home?"

How To Stand Up For Yourself

"Mom. Did those people just get arrested? Oh wait. Yes, they did. I see the handcuffs on them. They must have done something REALLY BAD. Hang on. I mean, the police must THINK they did something really bad. But WHY is that police officer taking stuff out of their car? Is he looking for something? What on EARTH is he looking for?"

As we left the beach today following a short (but soul restoring) sandcastle building session, we arrived at our car only to find ourselves crime-scene-adjacent. And because a police car was blocking my only way out of the parking space, Wyatt got a good, long look at everything that was happening. Fortunately, he didn't notice the collection of drug paraphernalia that had been placed on the roof of the suspects' car, so I didn't have to explain that. He did, however, watch one officer meticulously searching the car, another officer minding and questioning the two morose, handcuffed suspects seated on the curb, and he saw more officers arriving to assist. Shortly after help arrived, one of the officers moved their car and I was able to leave.

Here's an excerpt of my conversation with Wyatt on the ride home. WHAT DO THE OFFICERS THINK THOSE PEOPLE DID? I have no idea. WHY DO THEY GET TO LOOK AT EVERYTHING IN THEIR CAR? That's one of the things police officers can do when they arrest you--search your pockets, your car, your bags, that kind of thing. WHAT ARE THEY LOOKING FOR? Stuff you're not supposed to have. LIKE WHAT COULD THAT POSSIBLY BE? Ohhh, I don't know. Stuff you're not supposed to have. LIKE WHAT? Ummm. LIKE WHAT? Maybe you have a gun you're not supposed to have. A GUN? WHY WOULD YOU HAVE THAT IN YOUR CAR? Okay, good point, forget that. Remember when we flew on the airplane and there was that list of stuff you can't bring in your luggage? Like fireworks? Maybe they're looking for fireworks that people aren't supposed to have. WHY CAN'T YOU HAVE FIREWORKS? Because in some places, they're considered too dangerous. LIKE BECAUSE PEOPLE DON'T MAKE GOOD DECISIONS WITH THEM AND THEY LIGHT STUFF ON FIRE? Yes--exactly. BUT WHAT IF THE PEOPLE IN HANDCUFFS DIDN'T DO WHAT THE POLICE THINK THEY DID? OH WAIT! I KNOW. THEY STAND UP FOR THEMSELVES. THEY CAN BE LIKE ROSA PARKS AND SAY THEY SHOULD GO AHEAD AND ARREST THEM.  No. That's a different situation. It's called civil disobedience. But I can see why you're thinking about that. If you get arrested, you do your best to be respectful of the officers without saying much, even if you know you didn't do anything wrong. WHY? For two reasons. First, we respect other people. Second, you should really only be talking to the officers to ask to call your lawyer. HOW DO YOU GET A LAWYER? HOW WOULD I GET A LAWYER? I am your lawyer. Do you know my phone number?

It was really hard for me to make the concepts involved in this conversation age-appropriate. It was especially hard today because the killing of Jordan Edwards was very much on my mind. I mean, a kid can be doing his best, including leaving a party before the cops show up, and if he's black, the police still might shoot him in the head (and lie about it). 

After Wyatt reassured himself that he knows my phone number, I reassured him that he wouldn't have any chance of being arrested for a long time. I also told him it's great to know my number in case of an emergency. (LIKE WHAT KIND OF EMERGENCY? Like if you're out somewhere and you can't find me, but you see another parent, you could ask them to call me. OKAY.)

Ultimately, our conversation about criminal law came down to trying to answer the question, "How do you stand up for yourself?" We talked about how Rosa Parks stood up to the bus driver who told her to move. And we talked about how if you're arrested, you can stand up for yourself by insisting you need to talk to a lawyer. I also raised a question about what it might be like to stand up for a friend when you notice something isn't right, like the time a stranger started patting Wyatt's friend's hair. Wyatt remarked, "She was white, right? Why did she think she could touch his hair? Is it because his skin is darker than hers or because he uses a wheelchair?" "Maybe both," I said.

I suggested that how exactly you stand up for yourself or for your friends can change depending on the situation, and after thinking for a little bit, Wyatt agreed.

Watching police work was not the way I would have chosen to end our sweet little beach visit today, but I couldn't be more pleased to have stumbled on such a useful way to frame discussions around justice of all kinds.

La Brea...Tar Pits!

"No. I don't want a birthday party. I want to celebrate at school with my friends, but only at school. Let's do something else for my birthday."

This declaration came a couple of months ago. No party? No problem. And honestly, why would we even question such a declaration? Instead, we counted our blessings and then started brainstorming birthday adventures. There were plenty of ho-hum local options, as well as a more far-flung option: Southern California and the La Brea Tar Pits. I asked some truly dear friends in Southern California if we could come for a visit. It's important to know that for Wyatt, there could be no better present than getting to stay with these friends. Ever since our first stay with them about a year and a half ago, Wyatt began announcing regularly that he wished he could stay with them for the rest of his life. Ever the gracious hosts, they were quick to get on board with our proposed plan, and they even provided us with our trip's theme song: Felix Figueroa's Pico and Sepulveda. We sang it for weeks, wondering if, unlike in the song, our dreams might actually come true at the Tar Pits (Tar Pits!).

I am happy to report that our (fossil-related) dreams did come true. It was jaw-dropping to learn about the truly massive creatures that roamed the area we now know as Los Angeles a mere 11,000 years ago. Remains of sloths that could weigh up to seven tons, mastodons, wooly mammoths, saber-tooth tigers, enormous birds, and dire wolves have all been found in those pits. And archaeologists are still finding more and more remains, all preserved by that goopy, stinky tar.

Unlike the creatures, we steered clear of the tar. Good thing, because that meant Wyatt's other birthday dreams could also come true. In addition to going to the Tar Pits, he got to attend his cousin's birthday party at the beach, eat cupcakes and have a fancy seafood dinner out. On his actual birthday, he got to visit with a dozen friends, open presents, swim, eat cookies, cake, go out for ice cream where they had gluten-free cones(!), meet a seeing-eye dog, and then have his dream dinner, Al Bap (a fish roe rice bowl), as prepared by our hosts (who, in addition to their many other enviable traits, are also amazing cooks). I have no recipe to share; photos must suffice.

We had such a good weekend, it was really hard to leave. It was so hard, in fact, that Wyatt, in a fit of sadness and frustration, declared while we waited for our (delayed) flight at LAX that he wasn't ever going to eat anything ever again. I think he thought that vow would perturb Marc and me (it didn't). In case you're curious, he lasted about 2 hours.

I fully empathize with Wyatt's reluctance to leave, short-lived hunger strike and all. It has been more than ten years since I lived in Southern California, and while I have become very fond of San Francisco, I [still] Love L.A. Thanks to our friends, I felt as if I had come home for a weekend, and that feeling is one that's really hard to let go.

More Spring Color

I am delighted to report that Easter 2017 was our best year yet for egg dyeing! We lost only one egg due to cracking (during cooking, in the onion skin dye), and we lost one to the garden during the hunt. Fun fact: Naturally dyed eggs camouflage very well in nature.

Not only did we get amazing color from both of the methods we used (this tutorial and this kit), but the eggs were cooked perfectly. We steam boiled the eggs for the kit dyeing and with the homemade dyes, we cooked the eggs in the dyes. Whether or not the eggs are cooked well matters greatly to us because most years, I hide the eggs, Wyatt hunts them, and then we all work together to make egg salad of them for lunch. The steam boiled eggs were easier to peel than the others, but whatever. Our lunch was scrumptious.

I still have no idea where I hid that one missing egg. But my memory lapse probably made a raccoon's Easter pretty happy.

E. Bunny made Wyatt's Easter pretty happy, too. ("E. Bunny" followed by a drawing of rabbit ears is how the Easter Bunny signs notes to Wyatt. Same at your house, too, right?) Easter was so happy, in fact, that Wyatt reported the butterflies in his stomach continued fluttering around for hours even after he had discovered his gifts. Wyatt received a pretty large (but hollow, because E. Bunny knows our limits) chocolate bunny. It was the "best breakfast dessert ever." Wyatt also received a huge box of colored pencils and a sketchbook, just like he had been requesting for months. If the number of new drawings around the house are any indication, there's nothing like beautiful new art supplies to inspire creativity.

After spending Monday morning on housework (because spring break continues this week!) we headed downtown to check out the Diane Arbus and Matisse/Diebenkorn exhibitions at SFMOMA. Wyatt opted to leave his camera at home and bring his sketchbook and colored pencils instead. He requested that our first stop be at Richard Serra's sculpture, Sequence. We walked through it, and then he sat and drew (for just shy of two minutes) what he had experienced.

Once in the Matisse/Diebenkorn exhibition (which was crowded), we looked at the various paintings and discussed similarities and differences we saw in the artists' works. We also noticed a woman sitting awkwardly, perched on the corner of a bench full of people. She was fully engrossed in sketching a Matisse using two colored pencils, one in each of her hands. After watching her for a few moments, we walked on, and we talked about how amazing her drawing was. About mid-way through the exhibit, Wyatt suddenly stopped and scooted himself into a little spot on a corner of a different bench full of people. While I juggled the trays of pencils, he began selecting colored pencils that would match Richard Diebenkorn's Ocean Park #6. He then sketched for about ten minutes, totally oblivious to everything else that was going on.

When Wyatt was done, he declared he was starving, and we had to hustle through the rest of the exhibition in search of the cafe.

How better to top off magical artistic moments than by sharing a flourless chocolate cake at a table adorned with an orchid? Well, one way would be by having your very own flourless chocolate cake at that same pretty table. Regardless, shame on me for waffling on whether to renew our SFMOMA membership next month. Of course we will.

Spring Color

In honor of (the first of two weeks of) Spring Break, and in recognition of the fact that I have less than a week left to finish what feels like endless clearing out, this is a short post about three things.

First, we have reached another level in volunteering. That's right, there's at least one level beyond getting a t-shirt. Wyatt and I were invited to join the small crew of people who work in the Secret Garden. I think I'm permitted to tell you that we went, we weeded, and we found ourselves thoroughly charmed. But the rest? It's a secret.

Second, we have found a new vegetable to love: ramps (also known as wild leeks). In the past, I mostly avoided them because the annual hype surrounding them made me suspicious. What a mistake. I have really been missing out. We made David Lebovitz's Bear's Garlic (or Ramps) Pesto this weekend, and it was incredible. We had it on pasta, with a simple green salad, and Wyatt and I had bratwurst with ours. Why bratwurst? The butcher swore it was "the perfect sausage to go with ramps pesto." He was right. Also? I love that he offered such a strong, specific (and correct) opinion on this particular food combination. Next stop is pickled ramps. (Any ramp pickle recipe suggestions? Please leave them in the comments.)

Third, it's time to dye some eggs again! This year, we have a two-part plan. We will be using this kit. Believe it or not, I not only have but have also located the replacement kit the company sent me last year after I groused nicely in an email about how some of the color didn't work as well as in years past. We will also be following this tutorial, written by two of my favorite experts, Samin Nosrat and Kristine Vejar. If these two women say that we can get delicious and beautiful eggs by simultaneously cooking and naturally dyeing them, we must try. Better yet, we must do. Want to play, too? I'll post photos of our process on Instagram. 

Springtime!

It's April! This week, we're cleaning (so boring and yet so annoyingly necessary), cooking (asparagus! hooray!), and beginning to read 31 children's books featuring people of color.

As I have mentioned in several previous posts, springtime means clearing out our house. This weekend left me feeling old and dusty. We all cleared out the attic, which is where everything old (other than Marc and me) lives, and I continued on to the bathroom vanity and Wyatt's closet. I still hate the process. Also? ACHOO. But I am pleased with how our acquiring less stuff makes clearing out easier every year. And I love how when I finally get rid of a thing, it stays gone. I can't tell you the number of times I opened a box or door this weekend and thought, "Oh boy. I'm going to have to decide whether to keep [that thing I don't really want but feel bad getting rid of] this year," only to find that it was already gone! What a delightful surprise! And such a contrast to the repetitive nature of day-to-day life and all the things I do every day that get undone, or need to be done again (like cooking, or applying sunscreen), or the things I avoid doing, like repairs on shabby household items.

One of those shabby household items used to be our kitchen cart. It was one of the first things Marc and I bought for our house, and after eleven years of nearly continuous use, the finish on the top was beginning to fade away in the most unattractive dirty grey kind of way. Over a year ago, I bought the stuff to refinish it, and I have been putting off doing the work ever since. This weekend was sunny, not too windy, and we had time. So Wyatt and I washed, sanded, varnished, wet-sanded, and varnished the top some more.

The cart looks great now. In fact, it looks way better than the rest of our kitchen. Sigh.

Springtime also means asparagus. I made this recipe for Absurdly Addictive Asparagus (sans pancetta) and it's fabulous. I advise making it now.

Springtime is about renewal, too. It's a time to think about things in new ways, challenge old patterns, and make new friends. Wyatt and I participated in our first racial justice playdate last weekend. We met lots of new people, learned about each others' families, and did art projects about our ancestors while having a potluck lunch. I've also started following Embrace Race, an organization dedicated to "building an online community to discuss and share best practices for raising and caring for kids, all kids, in the context of race." Their emails are full of excellent resources, including podcasts, articles, and more.

Our family is also about to start reading some terrific books that, in one way or another, champion diversity. The other day, I was chatting with my favorite Cheese Monger/Elementary School Librarian over the cheese counter (of course). She was bursting with excitement because she had just been to Marcus Books ("Offering books by and about black people everywhere, since 1960") in Oakland. For her own reference, she had taken photos of the covers of many of the outstanding children's books she had found, all of which feature people of color. Because I am shameless around cheese and books (and she is infinitely patient), I took a photo of each of the 31 photos of books in her phone. Then, I compiled a list of all those books. That list appears below. Some of the books tackle challenging subjects. For ease of reference, I have included the publisher's recommended age or grade ranges.

I have read very few of these books, and I can't wait to dive in. It will also be fun to find more by the same authors and illustrators. If you have more suggestions for similar books, please leave them in the comments.

Happy spring reading (and cleaning and cooking, too)!

(When I checked, listings for individual books were limited on Marcus Books' website. I've included links to Amazon here. Please remember to support your local library and local booksellers by borrowing or purchasing from them whenever possible.)

• Drum Dream Girl, by Margarita Engle (Author), Rafael López (Illustrator) - Grades 1-4
• My Name is Celia/Me llamo Celia: The life of Celia Cruz/la Vida de Celia Cruz, by Monica Brown (Author), Rafael López (Illustrator) - Grades 2-4
• This Is the Rope: A Story from the Great Migration, by Jacqueline Woodson (Author), James Ransome (Illustrator) - Grades K-3
• A Dance Like Starlight, by Kristy Dempsey (Author), Floyd Cooper (Illustrator) - Grades 1-4
• Kenya's Song, by Linda Trice (Author), Pamela Johnson (Illustrator) - Ages 4-8
• Buffalo Bird Girl: A Hidatsa Story, by S. D. Nelson (Author) - Grades 1-5
• Hiawatha and the Peacemaker, by Robbie Robertson (Author), David Shannon (Illustrator) - Ages 4-8
• Sweet Music in Harlem, by Debbie A. Taylor (Author), Frank Morrison (Illustrator) - Ages 6-9
• I and I Bob Marley, by Tony Medina (Author), Jesse Joshua Watson (Illustrator) - Ages 8-11
• My Night in the Planetarium, by Innosanto Nagara (Author) - Grades 2-5
• Jimi Sounds Like a Rainbow: A Story of the Young Jimi Hendrix, by by Gary Golio (Author), Javaka Steptoe (Illustrator) - Grades 4-8.
• Leontyne Price: Voice of a Century, by Carole Boston Weatherford (Author), Raul Colon (Illustrator) - Grades 2-5
• Dear Primo: A Letter to My Cousin, by Duncan Tonatiuh (Author) - Grades K-3
• The Girl Who Helped Thunder and Other Native American Folktales, by James Bruchac (Adapter), Joseph Bruchac Ph.D. (Adapter), Stefano Vitale (Illustrator) - Grades 3-6
• Esquivel! Space-Age Sound Artist, by Susan Wood (Author), Duncan Tonatiuh (Illustrator) - Grades 2-6
• There is a Flower at the Tip of My Nose Smelling Me, by Alice Walker (Author), Stefano Vitale (Illustrator) - Ages 4-8
• The Princess and the Warrior: A Tale of Two Volcanoes, by Duncan Tonatiuh (Author) - Grades Preschool -2.
• Joelito's Big Decision: La Gran Decisión de Joelito, by Ann Berlak (Author) - Grades 2-4
• Thunder Rose, by Jerdine Nolen (Author), Kadir Nelson (Illustrator) - Grades K-3
• Pancho Rabbit and the Coyote: A Migrant's Tale, by Duncan Tonatiuh (Author) - Ages 6-9
• The Upside Down Boy/El nino de cabeza (Rise and Shine), by National Geographic Learning (Author) - Grades 2-5
• Her Stories: African American Folktales, Fairy Tales, and True Tales, by Virginia Hamilton (Author) - Ages 4-8
• Hip Hop Speaks to Children: A Celebration of Poetry with a Beat, by Nikki Giovanni (Author), Alicia Vergel de Dios (Illustrator), Damian Ward (Illustrator), Kristen Balouch (Illustrator), Jeremy Tugeau (Illustrator), Michele Noiset (Illustrator) - Grades 4-8
• Ruby's Wish, by Shirin Yim Bridges (Author), Sophie Blackall (Illustrator) - Ages 4-8
• When the Slave Esperança Garcia Wrote a Letter, by Sonia Rosa (Author), Luciana Justiniana Hees (Illustrator), Jane Springer (Translator) - Grades 3-6
• Rad Women Worldwide, by Kate Schatz (Author), Miriam Klein Stahl (Illustrator) - Grade 6 and up
• The Story of Ruby Bridges, by Robert Coles (Author), George Ford (Illustrator) - Ages 5-9
• Of Thee I Sing, by by Barack Obama (Author), Loren Long (Illustrator) - Grades 2-5
• Tasi & Matina: The Story of the First Clown Fish, by Alison Taimanglo Cuasay (Author) - No age range listed
• Just the Two of Us, by Will Smith (Author) - Ages 4 and up
• Daniel's Ride, by Michael Perry (Author), Lee Ballard (Illustrator) - Grades 2-4

Monday, Redeemed

On Monday, I woke up with Marc's alarm and swore. I had been dreaming it was still the weekend and I was in no mood to be an adult. To make things worse, for the next hour, most things I did--or even touched--confirmed I really should not have gotten out of bed. I became so grumpy, in fact, that Wyatt started remarking on my face, eventually saying, "Every time you come out of the laundry room, you look more and more grumpy. I think you're thinking about the stuff you just dropped behind the dryer and that you can't reach, right? Maybe you should stop going in there."  And then he gave me extra hugs.

I got Wyatt to school on time, and then I organized my day around a bunch of stuff that didn't end up happening. But I focused on the bright spot: Monday was the day our new quilt was arriving! Or so the package tracking report said.

Have you ever made a quilt? Me neither. But my Aunt Lauren has now made several, including ours. My role was merely to help plan our quilt. In case you're interested, it's the green quilt in this collection, but in a queen size, which looks like this (and not the colors I wanted), so I did some pattern tracing, color reassigning, and yardage calculations to start. Then Lauren did all the actual work, cutting, piecing, quilting, and hand finishing it. She shipped the masterpiece to me a week ago.

As Monday continued to slip by with no visit from UPS, I mused that they only seem to deliver late in the day when I'm waiting for something. And while they probably would have left the package for me, I didn't really want to risk not being home for it, so Wyatt and I hung around all afternoon.

Around 4:00 pm, I could wait no longer to get ingredients for dinner. I decided to just leave a note for the UPS driver. Wyatt and I walked over to Baron's Meats, the butcher shop that had opened, for the first time, four hours earlier. When we arrived, we saw full cases of meat and seafood, but no signs identifying cuts or prices for any of their wares. I asked about the missing information, and one of the butchers explained the signs were stuck in traffic on a UPS truck. Imagine that.

I let Wyatt choose dinner, and he went for mussels. We cooked them using the recipe for Steamed Mussels with Parsley and Pepper from the cookbook Simply French. This recipe is pretty similar to the one I used. I made a green salad with red wine vinaigrette, and Wyatt fried some potatoes, because why not. We also had some homemade gluten-free sourdough bread on the side. I saved a third of the mussels to cook for Marc when he got home.

At 7:00 pm, just as I was resigning myself to the quilt arriving on Tuesday, it came! The quilt is so much more amazing in person than I had imagined it would be. Marc and I are thinking it deserves (and, yes, we deserve) at least some new sheets and shams to do it justice.

Talking With Kids About Race

Remember the classic example of the loaded question? It's "When did you stop beating your wife?" If you don't have a wife, or the only thing you've ever beaten in your life is an egg, you'd probably be taken aback by that question.

Another example of a loaded question is one I heard this weekend when I volunteered at and participated in a workshop at the San Francisco Public Library called Talking With Kids About Race. Workshop leader, Dr. Micia Mosely, had just finished providing a few definitions, including one for race.* Without getting too much into the details, the first question a workshop participant asked Dr. Mosely was based on the idea that the eugenics movement was right, true, and founded on science.

Is this a shocking view to hold in the Bay Area in 2017? I thought it was. I wondered under my breath whether the person had been planted at the workshop by some hate group. I even started to wonder if the person would have to be removed. What happened next reminded me how to do better than that useless train of thought.

Dr. Mosely showed me how important it is to listen well and speak truth. She listened to the person intently, without interrupting, and then stated firmly that she would have to disagree. She explained that science has proven again and again that eugenics is baseless. She then went on to find, buried under all that white supremacy talk, something the person mentioned that was worth elevating: the richness of differences among humans. I still don't know exactly how she turned the question around, but I found myself wanting to listen to Dr. Mosely talk about pretty much anything, anytime.

My friend, Margaret, then reminded me how important it is to be bold. At our next workshop "break," Dr. Mosely instructed us to go introduce ourselves to at least five people we didn't know, stating our name, our race, and what had brought us to the workshop. My first introduction was to the person on my right, "Hi! I'm Kelly and I'm white. I'm here because I'm a parent." Margaret, on the other hand, made a beeline across the auditorium to introduce herself to that person who sounded like they thought eugenics was science. When I asked her about it later, she said in her matter-of-fact way, "That's just what I do. And did you see? That person stayed for the WHOLE workshop and appeared to be listening to everything!"

I have pages and pages of notes from the workshop because that's how I approach learning. I never want to miss or forget a single thing, so I write it all down. But my notes do not reflect the experience of the workshop itself, or the little transformations that happened (and are still happening) for me. I cannot recommend more highly a workshop like this, this workshop in particular, or, let's be honest, any of Dr. Mosely's events.**

After the workshop, I began some specific homework Dr. Mosely assigned, and I started doing some research on my own. I'm planning to read this dissertation by Gregory Peters which addresses in depth how to work through issues around race. As I understand it so far, the steps are: (1) Work Alone (journal, read, watch, learn who you are); (2) Work in Affinity (talk with people who are like you to work through issues); and (3) Work Across Difference (when and only when you have done steps 1 and 2, you can begin to bridge differences between groups). Even just knowing what to call these specific steps is helping me to plan my own work.

I also enjoyed watching "How I Stopped Worrying and Learned To Love Discussing Race" by Jay Smooth, and reading this piece, addressing how perfectionism is an aspect of white supremacist culture.

I took away a lot from Dr. Mosely's workshop, including: The sooner you can get right with yourself and figure out who you are with respect to race, the sooner you can start bringing race into everyday, developmentally appropriate conversations with even very young children.

I'm ready for the work. I hope to see you there.

*In the workshop, we used the following definition of race: "[a] historically shifting, socially constructed human classification system to establish power by grouping people primarily by physical appearance/markers. Race is not a category that biological science can establish. It is therefore both an illusion--a social construction--and a reality: a lived experience with real-life consequences."

**As a white person, I've found SURJ to be an incredible resource for learning.

Shirts, Citrus & Salt

Mom. I was NOT expecting that they would give us t-shirts! But now we match the other volunteers. I LOVE MY SHIRT. Can you please fix mine tonight or tomorrow so that I can wear it next week?

Last Wednesday, we leveled-up in the volunteer world: Wyatt and I were invited to choose "Golden Gate National Parks Native Plant Nurseries" t-shirts. We both went with the smallest ones they had: Adult Small.

Today, I leveled-up in sewing alterations. The volunteer shirt was the third in the stack of shirts I had promised to alter for Wyatt over the last six months. This tutorial was a really helpful starting point. I saved the volunteer shirt for last because it was the biggest, and I needed to work up to it. I won't lie; things got a little stressful, and I had to improvise beyond the tutorial. Part of the way through the volunteer shirt alterations, Wyatt said, tearfully, "I AM IN A PIN TRAP. Mom, you need to go read your tutorial again because this shirt feels DUMB." But we stuck with it (ha!) and now it looks, as Marc said, like I popped the shirts in the oven and shrank them perfectly. One detail that went a long way towards making the alterations look less like a hack-job was my double line of stitching along the new hems. Fancy!

I have decided that getting three shirts off the mending pile and into rotation is as good as clearing out drawers and closets today (and for the last three days). It isn't, really. But I cannot help bargaining (with myself) and attempting to refine "the rules" so that I still feel like I'm on task. I guess I'm a puritanical six-year old at heart.

We cooked up a storm this weekend! Friends were in town! We started with the citrus sorbets (Grapefruit-Champagne and Tangerine) that would end our dinner.

Dinner itself was whole Tai Snapper baked in pounds (and pounds) of salt (an astonishingly fun, impressive, and easy process--read about it here), herbed steamed rice (which I actually forgot to serve anyone), white mushrooms with garlic and parsley, as made in Logroño (out of Tapas, a taste of Spain in America, but very similar to this recipe), and a salad of dandelion greens with almond vinaigrette and dried ricotta. I recommend making as much of this dinner as you possibly can, and remember, if you forget the rice, too, it reheats really well.

Camera Love

"Mom. The art show was great. I took pictures of as much of the artwork as I could before I thought my camera battery was going to run out. I even took one of the entrance. That way you can see what the show was like! Did you know you walk into the gallery through a cafe? And in the front of the gallery, they had drinks and in the back they had snacks and I had TWO cookies?"

I mean, I couldn't ask for much more, could I? There I was, stuck in bed, violently ill, missing out on Rose's art show reception at Gallery House in Palo Alto this Sunday, but Marc and Wyatt brought me what they could. The fact that there is a blog post at all this week is thanks to them. "Reflect" is on display through March 25, and you can find more details here.

When Wyatt was about three years old, I gave him my old Kodak EasyShare camera. After watching us take photos with our phones and the fancy DSLR, he understandably wanted in on the action. I made him a wrist strap out of ribbon. I told him he absolutely had to wear it whenever he used the camera because the camera would break if he dropped it. I also showed him how to turn the camera on and off and how to keep it in the case. He has taken his responsibility for the camera really seriously, and I love that. Flipping though the photos he has taken over the years is hilarious. Little kids have a point of view, and as grown-ups, we don't often get to see the world from their perspective.

Initially, Wyatt had real misgivings about allowing me to share these photos. He may have even howled about how he didn't want anyone to see them. But he eventually came around after seeing that the lighting in the photos wasn't as bad as he thought it was. I wish I were kidding.

Here are the highlights of the show, according to Wyatt. (The low-resolution is on me, since it's my old camera.)

And here he is cooking dinner for Marc on Sunday night. And of course that's him at the top of this post in his Symphony finery. The things I miss when I'm ill are astonishing. Maybe this is what it feels like to not be the primary parent. Maybe I should complain less.

I've gotten into the habit of including a recipe in my posts most weeks, but I'm really not quite there yet with the whole eating thing. I can, however, suggest you get some reusable glass straws. They don't affect the taste of your drink like a metal one can, and they are much better for the environment than the disposable kind. I can also highly recommend the Avgolemono Soup I made today. Those of you who have known me for a long time will enjoy the irony of how I ended up with a child who prefers Greek chicken soup over all other kinds, and how it's now the only kind of chicken soup I make. Anyway. Try this recipe (but skip the dill and consider using whole eggs unless you have a special plan for the whites), or this recipe, or come up with a hybrid of the two. I go a little bit light on the lemon to start and add more to the pot as I taste. You may also need to adjust the salt as you go. Finally, you absolutely have to temper the egg-lemon mixture with the hot soup the way the recipes say, or else you'll end up with egg-drop soup instead.

Bye, February

Welp, there went February. And on March 1? We begin the annual 40-day clear-out. Marc and Wyatt are soooooooo excited. (That's what it means when you groan and roll your eyes, right? That you're excited?)

Okay, so maybe no one is really excited about doing it. But we'll be lighter and happier when it's done, so we'll get there. Or we'll get through it. Either way, it's happening.

But February! I shouldn't be so dismissive. It has been as good a short month as anyone could ask for. Last week was "ski week" for people who do that. For us, it was just a regular week, only there was no school. We visited the Botanical Garden one day between rain storms. We sat by the fountain and explored all the paths. We saw camellias, daffodils, and magnolias in blossom.

We also spent three glorious hours working in the Presidio Nursery on Wednesday afternoon in the sun after days and days of pouring rain. We're planning to go again this week. Weed by weed (and for me, call by call as well), we are becoming the volunteers and citizens we need to be.

I also finally made it to an Asian grocery store to find the ingredients I was missing so I could cook from the amazing book that Sarah sent me, The Food of Thailand: A Journey For Food Lovers. The grocery shopping adventure was humbling. It took me 90 minutes, but I got the five items on my list. Tonight's dinner was Neua Phat Bai Hohrapha/Beef with Thai Sweet Basil Leaves. If you follow the recipe here and substitute 1 medium onion, finely sliced, for the shallot, you will have the recipe I used. If, like Marc, you want to skip the beef, substitute 1 large Asian eggplant, cut into 1/2 inch cubes, and stir-fry a few minutes longer with about three tablespoons of oil.

And speaking of Sarah! Wyatt received the most delightful craft from Benjamin today. Perfect timing, once again, after a rough day getting back into the school groove.

Wyatt lifted the box and shook it gently, remarking, "This is so light it feels empty! I AM SO EXCITED TO SEE WHAT IS AS LIGHT AS AIR!"

Is this not the most delightful, quizzically-wise-looking needle-felted owl in a nest? After examining the owl and taking it in and out of the nest, Wyatt remarked, "Mom. Can you BELIEVE Benjamin made this whole thing? It must have taken him FOREVER, because you know how hard it is to needle-felt big things like this owl...and the nest! Look how they fit so perfectly together. Do you think we should make some eggs for the nest? We could, right? They're like the balls we made for the trivets."

Of course we could make eggs for the nest. (And how great is it to give a craft to someone who knows how hard you must have worked on it? I love that part.)

The owl is currently keeping watch over everything important from Wyatt's nightstand.

Twelve and Seven

This was us seven years ago at City Hall, on the fifth anniversary of our first date. It was the day we got married! It was such a good day, as you can see on our faces.

(Also, notice the stick sculptures in the trees above our bright, shining, rested, smooth faces? That's a glimpse of an art installation made of willow branches, called "The Upper Crust," by Patrick Dougherty.)

The last seven years have brought a lot of change, most of it thanks to becoming a family of three. Our current life bears no reasonable resemblance to our carefree existence of seven to twelve years ago. I mean, there was actually a time when we were decent resources for on-a-whim travel, amazing restaurants, and movie recommendations because we traveled lots of places (sometimes on a whim!), ate at terrific new restaurants regularly, and saw lots of movies whenever we pleased.

Now? You'd need a macro lens to see what we've been up to, other than bringing up a child. If I let you zoom-in, you'd notice, in addition to some new fine lines, lots of challenging, internal work we've done separately and together. You'd also see how we've shared some amazing, terrible, and solidly in-between times along the way. You'd be impressed at what we've learned, shocked at what we haven't, and unable to stop laughing at how we continue to step in it. I'm grateful every single day to have a partner who loves me to distraction. And being in a relationship that demands, in the best ways possible, that we each support the other person's growth? You can't beat it.

The traditional gift for the seventh year of marriage is wool. And if I had bothered to learn that fact sooner than the night before our anniversary, I could have done something really terrific with that knowledge. Instead, I kicked myself and proceeded to look at dessert recipes. I made chocolate pie, and we happily shared it with friends who unexpectedly dropped by around dinner time. I used this recipe, along with the gluten-free frozen pie crust from Whole Foods. And if you don't have pie crust? It's great just as pudding. Breakfast pudding even. Don't ask how I know.

Also, I have good news: We got a mini wine fridge. This means we can get back to making cheese. We have been on hiatus because after the washed rind cheese, I finally admitted we did not have the temperature control we needed to get good, reliable aged cheese results. After much discussion and shopping, we finally bought a not-too-fancy cheese (wine) fridge with the money we got from selling Wyatt's old stroller. So far, we feel like this was a win for all three of us. Wyatt and I started an aged goat cheese. Maybe the third time trying this recipe will be the charm. It should go in the cave tomorrow. (Tasting video to follow, maybe.)

Inspired By

Happy Valentine's Day from this little mouse (and me).

My inspiration levels have not been overflowing lately. Shocking, I know. I have had only just enough spark to take someone else's work and riff on it.

This hat is a good example. I loved Bristol Ivy's Peace de Resistance Mittens pattern, but I hardly ever wear mittens. Hats, on the other hand, I wear all the time. So, I turned the mitten pattern into a hat.

I finished the hat on Sunday, and I have posted my project notes on Ravelry in case you would also like to make a hat like this one. I like mine so much I almost slept in it Sunday night.

I then turned to knitting a gift for Wyatt for Valentine's Day. For the last two years, I have knitted him a little Valentine's present. The first year was a red heart pillow (that I scented with lavender flowers and is now worn and pilled from love) and the second year was a bouquet of lavender flowers (that sit on his nightstand).

Last week, Wyatt reminded me that Valentine's Day was coming and asked if I had already started working on his present. (I do love how there is no chance my child will wait and wonder whether I will meet his expectation for a present. I mean, why hope quietly, count on mind reading, and risk disappointment when you can SPECIFICALLY ASK?) I hadn't, so I looked through Hansi Singh's book of Amigurumi Knits, and I opted to make him a banana slug, inspired by the snail in her book, the endless amount of rain we have been getting this winter, and my lack of lovely yarn for a shell. But, the problem was three-quarters of the way through the body, the slug looked a lot like a gangrenous-colored peen warmer (as my friend Sarah correctly observed).

So Monday afternoon, I bought the pattern I had found last week before I talked myself into making that stripped-down snail. I knitted furiously from when Wyatt went to bed until the wee hours of Valentine's Day morning, knitting, embroidering, and assembling a Valentine's Mouse. The mouse is adorable, and way more time-consuming than I had anticipated.

And for dinner? Inspiration has been lagging a bit there, too. We had lots of soup last week. But this Saturday, after another afternoon volunteering at the Presidio Nursery (weeding this week!), I tried making Cabbage Pad Thai for the first time. I know, I know. The rallying cries of "Zucchini noodles!" or "Cauliflower rice!" followed by, "You won't even notice the difference!" is utter nonsense. Of COURSE you will notice a difference. If you don't, you're not paying enough attention to your food. The question should be whether you like the substitution, not whether there's a difference. Sometimes I like the swap, and sometimes I don't. Same goes for Wyatt. He actually scowled when I said it was Pad Thai made with cabbage, and said, "WHAT? NO NOODLES?" And he wasn't wrong--we all really do love cabbage in many forms, but cabbage is not noodles. So I made the recipe as written but added a two bricks of brown rice noodles I had just pre-cooked (mixed them in with the cabbage at the end). We also added a sprinkle of mung bean sprouts, too. We had just enough for the three of us for dinner.