In case you’re wondering about my invective, go watch MoveOn.org’s latest ad. It’s pretty freaking powerful.
Archive for family
More gratuitous cuteness
Mother’s Day, 2008 (I know, it’s a bit past that, I’ve been a bit preoccupied). Léa and my mother at the brunch table upstairs at the Greenwich Ginger Man.
Walking down Greenwich Avenue toward the park:
Can you pick out the little dimples on the back of her hand and elbow? Too delicious!
The most beautiful child ever born (biased much?)
My niece, Léa Madeline (it’s pronounced LAY-ah, just like the Princess), who will be three this September, has finally started to really talk, in both French and English. My sister-in-law, Priscille, speaks to her almost exclusively in French, while my brother, Sam, uses only English (well, very little French, and with a really horrendous accent). You can ask her, “Quest-ce va tu desire pour dessert?” and she will answer unabashedly, “Glace!” “Vanille ou chocolat?” “Chocolat!” Right answer, every time (that’s chocolate ice cream to those who don’t parlez). She can count, “One, two, threefourfive!” and then, “Un, deux, troisquatrecinq!” She is simply enchanting, I cannot stop drinking her in. My mother says that this is what it was like when I was her age. I positively fawn over her. I ask her, “Bisou?” and she plants one right on my lips. I cannot believe how amazing she is, and I’m not even her mother. She does high-fives, and says “Ta-da!” when she’s done something particularly cool, and throws her hands up over her head and exclaims, “Cowboys!” (my brother is a HUGE fan, don’t even start with me.) So here are two pictures of her, and her mother and father (you can totally see from where she gets her looks), and the two birthday cards she drew for me. Can you see the face on each? Priscille helped with the letters, but otherwise, it was all Léa.
We went for dinner at Hanada Hibachi in Mohegan Lake to celebrate my birthday. It was Léa’s first hibachi dinner, and she was appropriately impressed with the chef’s antics. He completely played to her.
Today is Elisa’s (twelfth? thirteenth? I don’t remember which, I’m a bad aunt) birthday. We got her a nice pair of 5mm pearl earrings from Whitehall. She loved them.
On turning forty
I am having a hard time reconciling the fact that Friday, May 2d, I turned 40. Where has the time gone? I’m not where I thought I’d be.
To that end, I signed up for a jewelry design class at the Westchester Arts Workshop, which is affiliated with Westchester Community College. It is a for-credit class, so it will add to my paltry and widespread transcript. Jewelry design is something I’ve always been interested in, more consistently that any other field in my life. I began at age eight in summer camp, making crude (at first) copper jewelry with Red, the scary (to everyone but me) and ancient Silver Shop teacher. She resembled quite closely the shrunken apple head dolls she made with other kids. With her permission (and that of my parents), I quickly progressed on to working in sterling silver, setting stones (in particular a large picture jasper for Nanny, my father’s jewelry-loving mother), forging a linked bracelet (which I summarily lost playing soccer), each link by hand, never fusing two links together but soldering each one individually. I was Red’s pet, and I worked in the shop a huge lot of the time I was there. Each summer I returned, for six years, to work under the wing of the ever-more wizened, sharp-minded old woman. I continued on in high school, taking Advanced Jewelry Design with Diana, the eccentric art teacher. It escapes me what I produced in high school. Damned Wellbutrin.
To celebrate my fortieth, my father and stepmother provided G and I with a weekend of decadence. A weekend at the Waldorf=Astoria (don’t ask me why they put in an equals sign instead of a hyphen), including the horrifically expensive room service (see photo to see what a $100 breakfast looks like. There are four tea bags there). An amazing dinner with them Friday night at Daniel. “Passing Strange” at the Belasco Theater Saturday night. “Walking-around money” to do with what I would. I had some plans for us in the in-between time; Bodies…The Exhibition down at the South Street Seaport with maybe an excursion to Seaport Yarn, more yarn shopping, perhaps at Purl (we didn’t get there, only Stitches East). My allergies were totally kicking my ass and G’s were as well, so we moseyed down to Battery Park after the Seaport to relax on the green. I conked out for an hour and a half while G read. An exhausting, but fun weekend.
Edited to add: This is what G gave me for my fortieth; the most amazing stop sign ever. 5/8 carat total weight in brilliant, baguette, and radiant-cut diamonds in 14k white gold. No one else is wearing one of these!
Merry Christmas!
Before the kids got to their presents:
and after:
G’s big gift to me made me cry, he gets me every year with something spectacular (an Anya Hindmarch Be A Bag with this picture on it). Good wishes to all in the meantime.
Christmas presents all out
except for my mom’s and her boyfriend’s but we’ll make plans to see them after the holiday. I’m actually still waiting on some for my mom and my sister-in-law, my brother’s went out today (Express Mail) as did my in-laws’. We’re heading upstate for the holiday to G’s oldest sister’s for a few days, and are toting along their presents, plus ours from everyone else, plus four loaves of Stop & Shop wheat bread (no high fructose corn syrup). I can’t find the bag of stuff my nephew left here a few months ago; I suspect the cleaners moved it to parts unknown. At least we found Jack
G’s Theraflu is kicking in; time for sleep.
No news yet
on the Apple front. G says I’ll hear from them on Monday. We hopes.
We went to my mom’s tonight for Chanukah (yeah, I spelled it like that. You spell it whatever way you want.) to spend some time with her and her boyfriend B, my brother and his wife, and their gorgeous daughter, Léa. I had my camera with me but forgot to take it out, she was that captivating. We had a tea party, and she kept feeding me chips with a spoon (”mo’ tsips”). If you asked her for a “bisou” she’d come and plant the tiniest kiss on your cheek. G noticed that she’d say something in English and then repeat it in French. “Two” then “deux.” She had trouble with “ice cream” but none at all with “glace.”
For dinner we had my mother’s famous noodle kugel (ohmygoditwasfuckingdelicious) for which I need the recipe. We had the ubiquitous latkes, and flank steak, and then this dish that one of her residents suggested; asparagus with heavy cream, cheddar, and ham. Really fucking good. She gave each of us couples a 400-piece jigsaw puzzle “made especially for you featuring an extract from the US Geological Survey map base centered on your home. The jigsaw covers an area of 4 miles north-to-south and 6 miles east-to-west.” Your home is at the center, and the centerpiece is shaped like a house. Wicked cool, and I wish I could link to it, but the website returns an error. There are two email addresses on the back of the box, hopefully one will work for those of you interested: In the UK, sales@mapmarketing.com. In the US, orders@historicnewspaper.com. Visits to both of those sites led nowhere useful; perhaps email will. I don’t know how my mother found it, probably a catalog. I’ll take a picture of the puzzle one it’s finished.
Of kittycats and Christmas trees
What’s a knitting and spinning blog without any knitting? No good, I tell you, no good. Here is Harry glaring at Sock One of a pair for my father (due Sunday night — gadzooks!). To be fair, I spent the last three days in bed, sick, except for the interview, which went swimmingly (At one point she said, “We’re interviewing other people, but I love you!”). News on that front will be at the earliest, Friday, at the latest, Tuesday. Anyway, about the sock, it’s Colinette’s Jitterbug in Blue Parrot, knit on size 3 Addis, my own toe-up recipe. I’d started knitting these for myself about three months ago, but they were too big. I kept knitting, not really willing to admit my gauge error knowing I’d find someone they’d fit. After losing my job, my father said, “No presents for us! Knit me something instead, I know, socks! Can you do socks?” Can I do socks? You betcha! My very favorite thing to knit, in fact. I don’t know why, but there is something magical about turning that heel, every time.
We ventured out today to get Christmas trees. There is a lot down on Route 6 that benefits the Delancey Street Foundation, a noble, charitable cause. From their website: “We’re considered the country’s leading residential self-help organization for substance abusers, ex-convicts, homeless and others who have hit bottom.” All the proceeds from the sale of the trees go to the Foundation. G got our trees there last year, and while they were a bit more expensive this year (he got last year’s trees on December 23d for $10 each), the knowledge that the money is going to a worthy cause it heartwarming indeed. Here are pictures of Penelope and Pablo captive on the car, and Penelope, naked, inside (Pablo lives on the porch, pictures of him will come). They are eight and six feet, respectively, are Balsam Firs, and lived in Quebec before living in our humble abode. Welcome to our new additions!
Dinner for six (sort of)
Tonight was our Thanksgiving redux, replete with grilled turkey, stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes with cheese and sausage, pumpkin soup, and pumpkin bread. Everything except the bread (which I baked) was made from scratch. I can’t say enough about the stuffing. I’m a stuffing fiend, going so far as eating StoveTop for dinner, plain, when I was single. I’m lucky enough to have a husband who really puts everything he has into the dishes he cooks. You can taste the love with every bite. Joining us at our groaning table were our friends Josh and Tony, my sister, Carolynn, her husband, Tom, and their son, my adorable nephew, Zeke (in case you forgot what he looks like, here he is).
We all ate way too much (I have my nutritionist tomorrow morning, what an idiot girl am I?) and enjoyed each other’s company, and in the end, packed up all sort of leftovers to take to friends (I may feast on stuffing alone yet again!). The Clementines I picked up for dessert weren’t as sweet as I’d have liked, but edible. I’ll have another before bed, perhaps.
—–
On this day: Still good 2005
Happy Thanksgiving!
First, let’s get the adorable kin pictures out of the way. Here’s Léa, manhandling her apple pie á la mode:
And little Zeke, slurping on his daddy’s head:
Both youngsters were delightedly well-behaved. Léa even had some of G’s delicious Cheddar Soup (almost everyone else had seconds). We got home around 7 pm to re-watch the parade, since I missed seeing Hello Kitty Supercute and my sister informed me that she was definitely there. Meredith Viera even commented on her appearance, wrongly pointing out “her signature right-side bow.” If you’re looking at her it’s on the right, but it’s on Kitty’s left. Idiot wasn’t even paying attention. Oh well, she’s in the parade, that’s all that counts. I got all stupid and choked up watching the Rockettes and the marching bands. Why do I do that? A good day, all in all.
A few things to be thankful for:
My snoring husband, because this means that he is at home with me, lying next to me in our king-size bed with kitties akimbo, and is slumbering sweetly and peacefully.
The internet, for bringing friends to my virtual door.
My family, without whom I wouldn’t be as fucked up as I am, making life much more interesting.
Blogs, which a lot of the time, feel like group therapy, which in real life, I CANNOT STAND, but online, feel much less creepy.
My expensive medication, which is a lot less expensive than it used to be thanks to my new job and a fabulous pdoc who gifts me with samples, and allows me to live something like a semi-normal life. I’m striving for normal. I’ll get there someday.
My new job, which aggravates the shit out of me because they want me to be manic. But I have a job to aggravate me, and therefore, a steady paycheck with benefits.
Espresso. ‘Nuff said.
Tigger, who wakes me up at 5:30 am to pee by smacking my face, without whom I would not be here.
Pye and Harry, who have the awesome power to simply be and that is enough to make me smile.
Life is hard. Wear comfortable shoes.
—–
On this day: Thanksgiving morning 2005
