Our local mall has opened an ice skating rink for the holiday season, and Callum went with some friends on Friday. Despite several falls, a suspected concussion and some achey muscles, he couldn't wait to get back.

We got there early, before they even opened and unexpectedly met up with some friends. It was a perfect day to be out. Not too cold and sunny, and even watching the Zamboni was a treat.

Another treat was a Zamboni Photo-Op!

The nice man let Neel sit on the Zamboni too!

I was not physically brave as a child, and I appreciate so much that Callum has bravery in spades. He's willing to try anything, and leaps headlong into it, seeking to master the skill.

All three kids were incredibly brave, and the transformation they made in just a couple of hours was remarkable. Not just our kids, but everybody there. Even the ones clutching the wall for dear life eventually made their way around the rink fall-free. An impressive feat on the feet.

After skating, lunch at the boulangerie (la boulangerie!).

Callum double fisted soup. Warming up from the inside out.

I think I mentioned last week that we were planning to have some friends over for brunch on Sunday.

I love brunch. What's not to love? The food is good, the drink is good. There is a relaxed ease that doesn't always come at dinner parties. We hosted this time, and any time someone would say, "Please don't go to too much trouble." I'd say, "As soon as I finish flinging out this ballroom wing." But I find the process of setting the table and getting out Neel's mother's lovely dishes so wonderful and meditative. It's nice and easy to get ready for a Sunday of food and friends.

Of course there's always the Bloody Mary too.

Everybody brought a dish to share, and I'm sorry, but I don't have a picture of the pumpkin bread that was such a hit. I got the recipe on epicurious.com if you're at all interested. We had a potato gratin (thanks, Ina!) and a wonderful egg dish along with the most amazing bowl of fresh fruit.

I was initially concerned that I'd overdone it on the bacon and made too much, but as it turned out we managed to plow through that plate quite nicely until there was nothing left but crumbs.

The kids all know each other. Most of them went to school together at one point and haven't seen each other in awhile. It was in the house and out of the house. In the house and back out again. All afternoon. We had a perfect fall day.

Brunch captured their attention for a bit, as did the webcam, which is where they are in these photos. They're good kids. All of them. Where else can you find a group of kids that range from second through seventh grade who can all have fun together? What a delight.

Ultimately, I'm not a very good feminist. (I know, way to jump around, right? Bear with me here.) I had a roommate once in college (isn't that when we're supposed to be all radical?) who chastised me for daydreaming with another girlfriend about the day when we'd be all grown up and at "the beach house" together. Our kids would be playing in the sand, our husbands on the porch drinking beers, and we'd be chatting in the kitchen, making everyone ham (it had to be ham) sandwiches. She saw that as a sign of my supression: me in the kitchen/he on the porch with the beer. I don't know about supression. Sounds pretty nice to me.

And then on Sunday, after the plates were cleared, the kids headed back out to toss the corn hole bags at each other and discuss the newest Harry Potter trailer, while the guys sat around the table sampling Old Smokey. Tracy, Debbie(Cate), and I moved into the kitchen. In between, "Is that your new lipstick?" and "Is it weird that my hip hurts this much?" we did the dishes and got them out of the way. Suddenly Tracy said, "You guys, we're married!" I knew exactly what she meant. Debbie(Cate) chimed in saying that just the other day she'd walked up to her husband in a store saying, "We have two kids." Like, oh my God, we have two kids. How did this happen? Here we are. As women, we know we all love each other. But also, we're married. Our husbands like each other too. They're sitting around the table together! We're grown up! We're all grown up, and here we are having brunch.

I couldn't help thinking back to that conversation, all those years ago. Had I even met Neel yet? It had to be a long time ago. Over twenty years. The men around the table, talking talking. The women in the kitchen, cleaning and talking talking. My old roommate didn't know the wonder of what she could be missing out on. Who is suppressed here? On any given night, Neel is the one breaking glassware in our sink as he does the dinner dishes. This was just three families gathered together. Gathered happily. It was perfect. The whole day was perfect. I was just where I wanted to be.

So my friend Mark knows me pretty well. Before nominating me for some kind of blogging award, he had to call and ask permission. He knows how private I am. And he's so sweet. No, really! I was flattered, so why the heck not. The only caveat that he told me about was the one where you pay the award forward and nominate other bloggers. Like I said, Mark knows I'm private, and even admitting to people the blogs I read is hard. If I'd known I was going to have to bare my soul too? I'm not sure I would have ever agreed. Clearly he tricked me. But I'm a rule follower, so here goes. Read carefully. It won't happen again. (And, uh, thanks Mark. No, really!)

1. If I mentioned above that I'm a rule follower, can that count as #1? No? Okay. If I mentioned in an earlier blog post that I love football can that count? No? Okay. Fine. Let me start again.

1. I have mentioned before that I spend a lot of time, too much really, inside my head. What I didn't mention is that there's mostly teen angst going on in there. I am constantly worrying about things like, "I wish I'd never sent that e-mail." or "He didn't seem as warm to me as usual. I must have said something to upset him." or "Is she mad at me?"  or "Why hasn't she texted me yet?"  So when people tell me they think I'm confident, I want to say Ha! If you could see inside my brain, it's like the set of Sixteen Candles going on in there.

2. There is a part of me (sometimes a big part, sometimes a small part) that wishes we'd had another baby. Can't wait for the comments to start on that. (I'm looking at you Marky.)

3. I have found that as I get older, there are things that I used to really dislike that I now really like. Patent leather for example.

4. I have in me a deep, deep desire to write a book. There are two finished and one unfinished manuscripts buried deep in my filing cabinets (and no more shall be said about that), but I really yearn to write more. Fiction, creative nonfiction, I don't know. The dream is there, but I fear that the drive and/or the discipline is not.

5. I don't sleep. I have had trouble with sleep for most of my adult life, and my recent bout with headaches (accidentally typed "hurricanes," how ironic is that?!) has made sleep particularly difficult. I sleep with a book and a my phone, used as a flashlight, next to me. We call my sleep "fragile." When reading, I can get incredibly sleepy, but if it takes too much effort to turn off the light or adjust my pillow, I'm awake again. At one point in the middle of the night a few weeks ago, the image of my sleep being fragile like an egg came to me. Later that same long night, I had the thought that sleep for me is an egg balanced on a bread knife. If I ever write that book, you will read that metaphor there.

6. I love weather. All kinds, but especially hurricanes. I'll admit it, it was a special thrill to move to a hurricane-y part of the world, and terribly exciting to experience one as soon as we got here! Ever since Hurricane Hugo ravaged the area where my family had traveled for so many summer vacations, I have followed the seasons and their formations. As I mentioned before, Callum's getting into it a little now too. It's not just hurricanes. Thunderstorms, record heat, record cold, snow, rain, mist, drizzle, mizzle, you name it...I love it. The problem with weather is that it will always let you down. You watch the storm of the century coming towards you that dumps 8 inches of snow (this is Tidewater, Virginia people, what do you expect?), and you're wishing, why wasn't it ten? You live through a winter of 80 inches of snow (not in Tidewater, Virginia), and you think, "Oh just one more snowfall." Callum is learning this as we speak. I'm sure that no matter how much rain Nearly-Tropical-Storm-Nicole (the system I can't quite understand) dumps on us, he'll want a few more inches and a few more gusts of wind. Heck, I will too.

7. I am in search of a thread. I'm re-reading a book by Orangette author (Do you re-read books? I do, it's a particular pleasure of mine...look at me letting the intimate details all hang out!) Molly Wizenberg, and she talks about how cooking is a thread in her life. And hey! She even wrote a book about it. I am in search of a thread. Sure I like to cook. I've been cooking for a long time. Sure I like to write. I've been writing for a long time. Sure I like to take photographs. I first got interested in photography a looooooong time ago (and queen of dropped thread that I am, left it alone a looooong time ago too). But what's my thread? That's definitely something I'd like to know.

And now that I've gotten started I guess there's a lot more that I could say. I like hot sandwiches but not cold ones. I need my windshields to be very, very clear when I'm driving, or even riding in rhe rain. I like a light to be on in the house when I come home after dark... Funny how that works. Revealing things. In honor of Mark, who I would nominate right back if I could, I'll put the link to the blog back on my facebook profile page. So all 40 of my friends can come check it out. Every new year I resolve to be more brave, so there you go. Now my old high school boyfriend can come see what this is all about, should he so desire (doubtful).

I really do appreicate you thinking of me Marky. And you dear readers, all 12 of you should go and check out his blog. You'll learn a lot more about him than you ever would about me! He and I have been friends since we were baby-adults (newly hatched grown-ups), and he is still one of the best, funniest people I ever met. And I still think that after discovering that half of his facial expressions come from Homer Simpson. Seriously, that man tells the best stories. Way better than mine. If he wrote a book, I'd read it, and I'd try very hard not to be jealous.

And as far as the nominating goes? I have to pick my friend Megan. That's MEE-gan. At Megan's Blog. That's MEE-gan's Blog. Not only a versital blogger, she's one of the most versitle people I know. A little funny too. And she's a great writer. Brilliant posts. I'm hoping this award will encourage her to write more of them.

This weekend was the annual wine tasting at my friend Catherine's church. We look forward to this get-together every year, a glimmer of fun in deepest, darkest February. They always feature Virginia wineries, and this year's guest was Rosemont Vineyard. Of all the years we've been, this is my favorite vineyard. The owner told a wonderful story about how he was jogging along on the treadmill of life, not feeling inspired and with his health showing the effects of his hard work. He woke one day, knowing that he didn't want to live like this anymore, so he came home to his family's estate. He walked the land, and slept in late, and one day decided that he needed to come home permanently and open a vineyard. That was only three years ago. His son now works with them as the vintner and they're winning awards all over the place. Cool story, huh? Makes me think we need a 15 year plan. That's gonna be a tricky one for Neel, I think.

We were a table of twelve and everyone brought munchies and delectable treats to nibble on. In fact, I think we were nibbling on nibbles, right Catherine?

And then the wine! Pretty good stuff too. We had generous pourers, and by the time we got to tasting number 12, everyone was chatty and happy and much warmer than the cold air outside.

The wind picked up overnight last night and so did the rain. It whipped around our heads, riling up the trees, now nearly denuded of their leaves, all night long. We're having sustained winds of 30-40 .m.p.h. with gusts over 55. By the time this is done, sometime tomorrow, we'll have over 8 inches of rain. All the schools are closed, even the medical school where Neel works. We couldn't have made it off our block anyway, much less through downtown. Many streets are underwater. High tide is still hours away.

I had a chat with my friend Debbie yesterday about the differences in our essential natures. She prefers clear skies and being out and about, while for me, well, I wish these unchained windy elements that send me homeward would last for days. I can picture her, restless at home, and I bet she's picturing me, happily settled in.

Last week was my birthday, and much like The Very Hungry Caterpillar, I ate my way through the day.  It started at our Volunteer Breakfast at school where I tagged along to take pictures and was serenaded by the most beautiful rendition of Happy Birthday I've heard in some time.  (I highly recommend getting professionals to sing for you on your birthday, next chance you get.)  That meal was the zucchini quiche, and I forced myself not to go after a second piece.

After that, can you tell?  Lunch at PF Changs, of course, with some dear girlfriends.

Hello, lettuce wraps.

Good-bye, lettuce wraps.  Although lunch at PF Changs was weird because it took forever, and our server wasn't great, but it really seemed a kitchen thing, the reason we were there so long (two hours).  The manager came and apologized and said he'd take something off the check, but then he didn't so my friend Tracy asked very nicely, and he comped us the whole meal.  I told everybody that it was as if my birthday was my little gift to them.  Free lunch.

We were supposed to fix a nice dinner that night after lacrosse practice, but after a two hour lunch, I just couldn't face another meal, so Callum and Neel ate my leftovers for dinner and after lacrosse we came home to this:

Cupcake Heaven!  Catherine made these, aren't they amazing?  I was just speechless.  I still am.

So we all tromped across the street to where everybody was waiting, and Jean with Champagne Punch, and another singing of the Happy Birthday, and I felt so warm and cherished and just they way you should feel on your birthday.

My Champagne Punch.

Finally all those cupcakes came out and the kids just couldn't believe it, and the grown-ups couldn't quite either.  Each of those little ones is like a bit of sushi, two perfect bites. 

We loved it all so much that we did the same thing all over again on Friday night, right down to the punch.  And then, well it was time for the Sunday dinner, so we did it all again but by then we'd moved onto a new dessert.  Can't imagine a better birthday.  Don't even want to try.