We made my friend Megan's chicken pot pie one particularly cool evening this week. If you want the recipe, you'll have to go ask her.
I cropped this photo, but first, see that vein in the marble to the bottom left of the pie? Doesn't that look like bacon? I just noticed it. Sadly, it is not bacon.
There you go crop-a-doodle.
By now we all know how lousy the lighting is above my stove.
Insides, with soup.
And leftovers!
So look who popped in just in time for dinner last Saturday?
Neel and I were cooking out, and when I came into the kitchen, there he was!
We tried to strike up a conversation, but apparently he wanted to sneak in, grab a snack and sneak out without chatting. After a brief respite on one of our kitchen lamps, Neel managed to encourage him to head on out and perhaps swing by another time.
Yes, I know it's been awhile since I've picked up my needles. There were some projects scattered here and there that I neglected to mention (and more importantly, forgot to photograph): a pair of socks for my mom's birthday, a scarf or two. Nothing too exciting.
I'm enjoying this baby sweater though, intended for my new nephew who we will meet for the first time over Thanksgiving. It's the child's placket neck sweater from Last Minute Knitted Gifts. Man, I love that book. There is project after project that I'd love to tackle in its pages. The yarn is a trip: Kollage Corntastic. Made out of corn! How crazy is that? Corn! And you know what else? Machine washable! And dryable! The color is moonstone, kind of a deep purpley blue, and I'm thinking of adding perhaps yellow stars or red firetrucks for the buttons. One sleeve and the lower body down. I'll keep you updated. Promise.
If you're keeping track at home.
On my run this morning, the count of yard signs and bumper stickers: 11 Obama, 7 McCain.
If you want to live in a hotbed of liberalism in my neighborhood, I can point you to just the street. The McCain folks were a bit more scattered.
Well, Callum started Lacrosse this weekend. It's his first foray into team sports, and it was time. He's been taking karate for for three years now, and really that seemed sufficient. Part of it, I know, was that Neel and I weren't ready to face hectic practice schedules and gear, but we also knew that when Callum really pushed it, it was time. Not before.
Well, he pushed it for Lacrosse, and here we are. A five-week camp held every Sunday at a local college by the college coach and team. This camp will get him ready to get on a team in the spring.
This boy continues to amaze me. How other he is from us in spectacular ways. His athleticism astonishes me, and his enthusiasm humbles me. Callum enters any project from Lacrosse to multiplication with excitement and energy. Sunday was his first day at this game. Sure he's tossed a ball in the yard before, but really getting out there? This was it, first time, full stop. And there he was, giving it his all. Talking to his coaches, asking for extra practice, wanting to get in the game.
The friend that Callum knew was coming made him happy, he was glad to
have a bud. For me it would have been essential to have someone I know
there. But then, I am tentative. I hold back. Not this kid. There is nothing tentative about him. Neel and I could hear him yelling across the field, "Over here!" and we thought "That's our boy."
I feel very passionate about this election. I've been following the process for months (and really years now), and somewhere deep within me there thrums the beat of near-frenzy as we wind down (or up) towards November 4. I feel passionate also about voting. Especially as a woman, I feel that it is both my privilege and my duty to vote whenever I can. Women suffered and sometimes died for my right to slide into that voting booth, and I do not feel that I have the right to decide that I'm too busy or not interested enough to get over there.
On my morning runs, I've developed a little game to distract me from the agony I'm enduring. I count political yard signs. I have very specific rules for this: signs and bumper stickers both count, I can only count signs that I actually run past (looking down a street and seeing a sign in a yard a few houses in does not count), while I can assume that if a yard has only a sign for the local Republican senate candidate that they are also voting for the Republican presidential candidate, I can not count that sign, and finally, if there are a couple of signs perched on the borders of side-by-side yards, I have to make a judgement call. Two yards or one? Let's face it, I usually decide based on whether or not I like the sign! (We're a battleground state here, and this morning Obama edged out McCain 5-4, btw.)
I have donated money to my candidate's campaign, my friends and relations know where I stand and who I will be pulling the lever (or touching the screen) for in a few short weeks. I have passionate conversations with like-minded individuals, and I can hear my son pick up the (also passionate) drumbeat of our beliefs. I'm proud of him for that. I will not however, put a yard sign in my yard, a bumper sticker on my car or a pin on my shirt.
This baffles my son. He's as out there for his candidate as he is for his football team. But he's nine and the nuances of these adult issues (fortunately) elude him. Am I not passionate enough? If I felt it more strongly, would I have a sign out there, proudly declaring? I don't think it's that, exactly. I am surrounded, both here and in my home by people I love very much. They also happen to be people with whom, in some cases, I disagree quite ardently. Our relationships are not about liberals or conservatives, Republicans or Democrats, left or right. They are not about these things, and I do not want them to be. In my world, we all ultimately want the same thing, it's nothing more than semantics to say that we disagree about how to get there.
On the way home from school one day (we count signs and bumper stickers in the car too), Callum finally asked if we could put the sign that's sliding around in the back of the car into our yard. When I said no, here's how I explained it to him: We know that some of our neighbors will be voting differently from us, and that's okay. (It really is!) We know we disagree, and we love each other enough to be respectful of those differences. How would you feel though, if every night when we got home we had to look at a sign for the other guy in their yard? He got it then, I think. Suddenly our friendships would be about more than what they are, and not in a good way. That sign, that vote, would become the thing, highlighting the differences between us rather than what we all already share.
So here, and out in the front yard, is all I'm going to say about that. Those who know us know where we stand, and those who disagree with us also know that I respect and love them enough to not make it a part of who we are. All I'll end with is to say, go out and vote on November 4th. I can't wait to do it. I can't wait to stand up and participate. It's the process and the participation that's the key.
We're having a bit of weather around here today. This nor'easter is far worse than T.S. Hanna Huff-n-Puff (And I know, I promised more pictures from the ocean that day, but then Ike hit and it just didn't seem like the right thing to do...you know posting pictures of our baby storm, but I will post them. Promise.), and the turbulent weather is matching my turbulent mood.
It poured all day, the wind blowing sheets of rain across our soccer field at school and flooding the Breezeway. The rain had stopped when Callum and I were leaving, and I thought we were good to go. Of course the commute that ensued was quite probably the worst of my life. Thirty miles an hour with the hazards flashing for most of the freeway trip, and it took us twice as long as usual to get home.
We just managed to scoot into the driveway. The flooding starts just past our neighbor's house and promises to get higher with high tide coming up soon.
In fact, I need to scoot back out for a bit. Our recycling bin seems to be floating away.
All it takes is one cloudy day in the mid-seventies and I'm ready to pull out my sweaters and scarves. I was chilly all day yesterday, and when we got home from school the house felt damp and cool too. Perfect weather for an after-school cup of tea. Seriously those Brits have something figured out, for sure. What better invention than tea time? Callum decided to join me and as soon as the kettle was on (now that was fun to write!), I knew we needed to assemble a little bit of something. The tea hit the spot, and I can imagine no better way to usher in autumn than a cup of tea and a good book. Callum's starting Harry Potter. What fun he has in store.
We straddled the seasons with dinner however, having Alicia's corn soup (although I had to add bacon. and cream.) and BATs (bacon, avocado and tomato sandwiches). Oh the joy of a perfectly ripe avocado.
Now realistically I know that autumn in the Tidewater is a long time coming, and that on Halloween I'll most likely still be wearing short sleeves, but even my Golden Rain Tree says a change is in the air.
We had our Back to School Picnic last night, and this was Callum's dinner. Chick-fil-A nuggets and black olives.
Then he came home and had more chicken as he finished the last bit of his homework.
You can't really get through this day without thinking about where you were and what happened seven years ago. We were on the West Coast back then, living in San Diego and Callum had just turned two. My friend Sarah, who was then home with her own daughter, called us as we were starting our day to say, "Turn on the news. I think something really weird is happening in New York City." Do you remember how long it took to figure out what was actually going on? Callum was in a swim class on Tuesdays and Thursdays back then, and as we drove to Pacific Beach on eerily empty freeways, I listened to report after report, fearing that a wave of horrific violence was washing across the entire country. That the next report would come from Memphis and then Chicago and then Denver all the way to the Pacific Ocean. Thank God that didn't happen. What did happen was awful enough.
That was the first time the battery on my cordless phone actually died. That was when I started listening to NPR. I was a doula back then and had a client due to deliver any day. Her husband was Middle Eastern, and when we did go to the hospital a few days later, as more and more information was trickling in about how this had happened to our country, I actually worried about the reception we'd receive. I needn't have worried. Because time marches on and life is precious and what a beautiful respite it was to leave the leave the tv and the radio behind and focus on nothing more than bringing a tiny baby into the world. For a little while at least the whole world was this hospital room and helping this mother and welcoming her baby.
There is very little more exhilariting than bearing witness to the miracle of birth, even if you've been awake for 24 solid hours to watch it happen. I would always stay with the mother and father for about an hour or so after the baby was born, to get them settled in and help where they'd need it. By then, they are always ready to be alone, to revel in the seismic shift their lives have just made. It was daylight, morning, when I walked back to my car, and it had been full dark when we first arrived. I had that familiar gritty feeling of having been up all night, and the sunlight was almost a shock. A new day. When I turned my car on, there was NPR and Morning Edition, my faithful companions over the last days. But back in that hospital there was a new family, and not just my new family, but many couples welcoming their babies. Families for whom the world was not only buildings and planes and fires and terror, but awe and wonder at the miracle, the newness. Awe and wonder at tiny feet and squashed noses and shocks of hair and blue-gray eyes. I turned NPR off and drove home in silence. It was a new day.
I have had A. Day. One blow of craziness after another. A few weeks ago I bought two of these new drink mixes from Williams Sonoma, and for my whole drive home tonight I was thinking, "I need a Remedy." How perfect is that? Except we'd already finished The Remedy so I had the Spiced Pineapple Cooler. Neel brought me a sip from a straw as I peeled shrimp for dinner (Never say that man can't recognize a desperate situation when he sees one.), and he worried that it was too spicy for me. It wasn't it. I chugged it. Now I'm ready for bed.
And along the lines of "things I never dreamed I'd hear" we sent Callum to his room after school so he could calm down a bit before tackling his homework, and we could hear him wailing, "Please let me do my math. Please! I want to do my math." I don't even know what to say about that.
I've been trying all day to come up with a lengthy post about this boy, how I feel about him and being his mother, his birth even. But I just don't have the words. My heart is too full of love and pride and awe at this fine young man.
We have no greater joy than being his parents.
Happy birthday, sweet prince.
Love, Momma and Papa.
Empty Boardwalk
View to the south.
Tropical Storm Hanna is on her way, and what do I do today? Windex my gridless windows! Must be the domestic equvilant of wearing clean underwear in case you're in an accident. We're off to a neighborhood Tropical Storm party, I'll be back tomorrow with more pictures.
I still want things. The problem with deciding to simplify your life is all the new stuff you need to do it. I really do want to get rid of the clutter that is continuing to weigh me down, but in order to really do it right, I'll probably need these. And this. Add both of those things to my Christmas list. The second in red. Of course a new yoga mat would help me maintain my serenity...ooh! Never mind! Thanks Mom! I love it! Still, in case that doesn't do it (serenity can be mighty hard to come by), some yoga clothes would probably help too.
See? It doesn't end. But that's not a long list, really. And they're all things I need, right? To simplify my life and all. Of course when you add the thing I really, really want to the list, the thing that I'd need to take on a second job to pay for, then we really get down to the brass tacks of want and need. Or, the black cameras of want and need. Oh gosh I want that camera. Give me long enough and I'll find a way to rationalize needing it.
Our kitchen/family room is in a five year old addition onto our Depression-Era house. It has two sets of ginormous, gloriously tall French doors looking out onto the back yard. Each door had these wooden grids tacked over top of the glass to look like panes. As with much with this addition (including the doors themselves), they weren't installed properly, and they rattled around like anything and crumbs and dust got trapped underneath. So yesterday Neel did his weekly ritual of wiping dog paw and nose prints off the windows and POP! Off came the grid from one of the doors. Stealthily, he popped the other off, so that one of our ginormous, gloriously tall French doors was grid free.
Neel says, "Hey, look at this."
Lauren says, "Ohh!"
So we take the grids off the other doors. I swear, I can NOT believe the difference that the absence of those dinky little grids makes. Every time I walk in our front door, I think the back door is open! It feels like a whole new kitchen, and that fact alone almost prompted a discussion about our kitchen that I was very anxious to have. A discussion in which I tell Neel the changes I want to make to said kitchen. And I say almost because as soon as we started to talk we got interrupted by neighbor Paul who had some ideas about how to fix the improperly installed doors. Which was good because neighbor Paul saved us some of the imaginary money that Neel was planning to spend on getting said doors fixed. To my mind, this frees up that money (imaginary or not) to do the things I want to do. Now these were not big changes like a new six burner gas stove, new counter tops and possibly a new sink...he already knows about those things. These were changes more like this:
It's an elfa wall system from The Container Store. I like the stove too. We have glass encased cabinets on one side of our stove, and I'm pretty sure I want plain shelves on the other side. (See Neel, I told you I'd have to tell you on the blog!) And wouldn't all my new white dishes look pretty on those shelves? It's all about simplification, baby.
"Here's what I wrote that I wanted to learn in science this year: Microbiology, cell biology and viro biology."
Our neighbor Tyler grew up on the water, and his dad still lives there. James often stops by and offers to take Callum out in the boat and teach him some rowing. This past Sunday we took him up on his offer and I tagged along too.
From the house, you take a marshy channel out to the open river.
The rowboat came along too.
James readies the boat for the rowers.
Sam, a kid who joined us, went out first and got a lesson. Then it was Callum's turn.
Mastering rowing was not as tricky as surviving a hot and constricting life jacket.
Callum only needed help once to steer free of some marsh grass.
We popped Sam in with Callum and towed both boys back to the house before setting out for some sightseeing.
Open water.
Those giraffes in the distance to the right of the picture above this one are these up close. Off-loading at the container terminal.
Past the naval station.
We met this big guy on our way back home. That black thing coming toward us? The police. Telling us to stay away. This ship was bearing natural gas and the police suggested we keep a wide berth. We were only too happy to comply.
The coast guard also keeping us safe.
Full speed ahead back home.
Back to the marsh.
The dock is waiting.
It's the last day of summer vacation, and again this year Callum and I followed our annual tradition of a late-season boat ride. We first did this five summers ago, on Neel's first day of work at his present job, and we've done it every year since. And should you ask: no he was not terribly disappointed to not be with us. Neel + boats = barfy.
This was the boat we took last year. We went with friends on that trip and again this year, but instead of the more sedate Flipper you see here, we took the Rocket-tour of the coast line.
Past the resort area...
to the quieter, Northern beaches where we usually park our towels and chairs. Here we stumbled on some dolphin-y friends.
Up to a requisite coastal lighthouse (or two) before heading out to sea. It was a rocking fast and fun ride, and I'm always reminded of how much fun it is to play at being tourist in our own town. I have to admit to being just the tiniest bit smug when I hear people talking about heading home in a day or two. School may start tomorrow, but this ocean is always here for us.