Backtracking!

Now that my laptop is back home from its road trip, we have to journey back to France to see the sights I didn't get a chance to upload earlier! The idea for this trip started around Mother's Day. It's been a life-long dream of Troy's mom to see France, and despite attempts to travel there, her plans always, sadly, fell through. She's got little Eiffel Towers and various French adornments throughout her house, which is decorated in a very romantic & eclectic style, and has wanted to see the country for years. The last stifled plan was the biggest disappointment, as it was the closest she'd gotten. She'd started a separate savings account to put away money for the trip, had a tour pegged, and was looking forward to travelling with three of her friends. She even started French lessons. One by one, however, the friends cancelled for various reasons. After having lost my Mom so unexpectedly, coupled with the belief that one cannot put these dreams off forever, Troy & I decided we should give her a little nudge, and to surprise her with a plane ticket. You know: "if not now -- when?" But we felt that she really wouldn't want to go alone, and, as much as he loves her, Troy declined the idea of a mother-son trip to Paris. So I was appointed. I know she would have had a really fun time with her friends, but I did my best & it was great to see her realize her dream. We started out in Paris, arriving in the early evening. After swinging by our hotel to drop off our bags, went out for dinner, and then walked over to see the Eiffel Tower, twinkling with lights. I wish Troy & his brother could have seen their Mom -- all those years of wondering about it and there it was, right in front of her!

Now we are three.

Baby turned three today! All he wanted was Hawk & Dove, and a big blue cake. Granted! He was so happy!

Things to love about Seattle...

Serious cappuccino/espresso/coffee anytime, anywhere. You do not have to ask for a double.Nordstrom shoe department...nirvana (that's I think where they got their name).
A million variations on Eggs Benedict. This is w/Dungeness crab & spinach -- yum.Sur La Table flagship...Labradors!
Amber likes cheese.
An abundance of fresh produce & flowers + flying fish.
Cafe Campagne -- authentic, top-notch French bistro fare.
Ryan & Yuko
The rain makes everything green & the flowers big!


Cool indie stores. (Not for long, I predict for Mr. Kennedy.)

The Elliott Bay Book Company. Awesome bookstore, cool staff.

Water, water, everywhere. This is the Puget Sound.

Homey takes a wife.

Tom is the best friend a guy could have. He's fun, smart, warm, and the one you call from the proverbial Mexican jail at 2 a.m. (not that that's ever happened). Troy met Tom when he was in 9th grade, and they've been friends ever since, through good & bad. And the thing about Tom is that, from the moment I arrived upon the scene, he treated me like his friend, not "Troy's girlfriend."
I love the human drama of a wedding. While most may follow a formula, they're never predictable, and rarely dull. With my feelings of happiness for Tom marrying Connie, the tears started before the ceremony when I choked up trying to wish him the all the best. And so it began.
Connie's 2-year-old niece hopped down the aisle as flowergirl, and then proceeded to WIG OUT and scream for her mama. Connie ignored her and started her walk down the aisle. My boys had given me the heads-up on the flowergirl, declaring her "troublesome." By the end of the ceremony, I thought we might have to arrange to put the little one into some sort of toddler witness protection program, as Connie was shooting her a look and trying to hold back from pouncing on the child.
But all went well, everything quieted, and Tom & Connie were pronounced husband & wife.



The reception was held at a rowing club off Troll Drive under the Freemont Bridge & overlooking Lake Union -- gorgeous!

Thai food buffet, and the coolest cake for the Seattleites.

One thing that I loved was that there was a great age range among the friends & family members in attendance. Generations! We had the littlest guy, Jonah, who, despite his age & size, was bustin' moves on the dancefloor from the time the DJ started spinning until the party was over. Midway through the reception, he changed into some Dr. Seuss-like pajamas and continued rockin'.

I was seated next to Connie's beautiful seventysomething aunt, who shared with me a funny story from her wedding day, and more than kept up her end of a wonderful conversation throughout dinner.

It was one of those relaxed, fun weddings and everyone we met was cool. I regret sharing the story about Tom's potent space brownies with the groom's co-workers, however, they seemed to take it in stride, and Tom is honeymooning in Barcelona, so he doesn't know anything about it.
I'm so happy to have been part of the celebration, and I wish the newlyweds a long & happy life together, they deserve it.

Love & a wedding

I didn't know it, but my weekend in Seattle was just what I needed. I fell into a real funk after returning from France. When Troy and the boys took off, the little ones ran me ragged and I was also faced with the stark realization that, even though I made it through the first year, my Mom is still not coming back. No, there is no prize for endurance, and though in the back of my mind I had thought (hoped) that my travels and escape would give me relief, which they did, the reality was that there is no cure for grief. The pain and a specific loneliness and sadness were compounded by the fact that my best friend was very ill. And so it was that I nervously left and boarded the plane and felt mostly drained, but looked forward to seeing the other half of my family, and our friends.
I guess I'd forgotten the power of love. Making the unitentional but wise choice to take a cab directly from the airport to the restaurant where the rehearsal dinner was still in progress, I surprised everyone by suddenly appearing tableside with my bags.

The welcoming smiles and hugs and kisses I got overwhelmed me with love, and all of those suffocating feelings of depression washed away as I stood there, in a dining room in Seattle, getting hugged by my family and friends. It was the best thing that could have happened, and just what I needed. I felt like a new person.
Onward to the wedding!

A taste of Mirabelle syrup

The lovely Julie gave me a pretty bottle of Mirabelle sirop when we saw one another in France. The Mirabelle, which I had never heard of, is a small round plum that ranges in color from golden yellow to red.
This was a thoughtful gesture on Julie's part, b/c , as she explained, the Mirabelle is grown in the Lorraine region where she now lives, and she wanted me to have something representative of her area. Having grown up playing in fruit orchards, I am always happy to learn about new fruits that I've never tasted and so, to me, are exotic. Mirabelles are also grown in Great Britain. I don't know if you can get them in the U.S. -- certainly I can't!
Returning home, I read about it in my handy, "Food Lover's Companion," which describes it as sweet but not acidic, and notes that it is delicious in tarts and preserves. When Terry took me to the market in Aix, she pointed out the Mirabelles to me so that I could see them first-hand (I didn't realize it was a plum, I'd thought it was a small sweet orange). Today I tried the syrup for the first time, poured over ice & mixed with sparkling mineral water.
It is intense but not cloyingly sweet, and the fragrance is very pleasant, almost dreamy b/c it reminds me of something nice, but I can't quite put my finger on what it is. As I sipped, I thought, well, it's such a pretty bottle & it also contains something special and substantial. Truly, just like Julie, beautiful inside and out. Cheers!

The other petit oiseau

While shopping with Julie in Paris, we happened upon a Pylones store chock-a-block full of good, fun things. Like the Nutella spreader! Feeling a little bad that Wyatt was getting all shopped-out, I promised him he could pick out a small toy. He quickly zeroed in on a little bird. A singing bird. A singing bird that is quiet until it is moved in any way, and then it sings. It is also magnetic, so, theoretically, you could set it out on your desk and paper clips would stick to it. And you could grab one, jostle the little bird, and get a brief song for your efforts.

We bought the bird, and I saw that it only needed to be activated by us pulling on a plastic strip. Voila! The bird started singing! Well, it really wasn't so much singing or chirping as it was like a tiny car alarm. Steady, relentless, and more high-pitched than a car alarm. You know: that car alarm that is kind of old-school -- the one that goes off randomly in the street and no one pays any attention to it, except to think, "GOD! I wish that car alarm would STOP!" So if you can conjur up a petite version of that sound, you can imagine what the little bird sounds like.
Almost immediately, we looked for the off switch.
There wasn't one. There was no way to turn it off. We popped back into the store to take a look at the other birds and see if perhaps we had accidentally picked up a manufacturing anomaly, but none of the birds had off switches (had not noticed that before purchase.)
So we continued on through our day, with the bird "singing" all the way. At some point, he was gently placed in my bag, where he continued to sing.
The next day, Wyatt insisted the bird accompany us during our day. Wanting my son to be happy, I agreed. So the bird sang again through the streets of Paris, and through the Metro, where we only got a few inquisitive looks.
I thought surely the bird would crap out after all these hours of singing, but he continued on the train to Aix, and then showed no signs of flagging when it was time to fly home. I was kind of concerned about bringing a high-frequency alarm-sounding small metallic object onboard the flight, so I secured him deep within the suitcase, swaddling him in two week's worth of clothes. You could still hear him. But, did not cause any trouble, nor was he confiscated.
And so it's been a few weeks now, with sporadic but steady play. Yesterday the bird was found by Harry, who wanted to take him in the car. The bird sang at ever bump and turn. Now, it is resting in a high perch, and I don't know if it's a version of Stockholm Syndrome, or what, but I have feelings of admiration swelling in my heart. Sure, there's annoyance there, too, but I have to hand it to Pylones, they made a good product.

Three less eggs to fry

What a bore it's been around here all week. With half the family gone, you'd think I would be relishing the relative solitude, but instead, I just ramble around, or chase the wee ones around shouting after them, "No!" "Shut that!" "Get out of there!" Don't open that!" and then muttering cuss words under my breath.
Then I think of something to do.
I start off my day with cappuccino for one. I've had to learn how to make a good cap, since Troy usually makes mine, and because he always does such a fine job as barista, I've never really gotten to know the Francis!Francis! machine. Now we're on such tight terms, I call it Frank.

I try to have "together" time at the table, but something's definitely missing.

Harry and Cooper just throw the food I make for them on the floor and laugh about it. High comedy. So we do sit together & eat, but now I read in between barking at them.

Today I read Nigel Slater's, "Kitchen Diaries," while I ate. Not to be rude or antisocial, but I've given up on trying to have a decent conversation with these two, and at least Nigel is a chatty chap who branches out beyond Frankensteinian-type language. Tomorrow I'll be dining with Anna del Conte!
Even the dog is bored.
Oh, no, wait. He's just trying to look nonchalant as he hovers under the high chair, knowing that the food throwing will soon commence. I don't think he's picked up any new skills this week.
The other day, we gathered key limes from Troy's tree.Usually, we look at them for days, while contemplating a key lime pie, and then just end up squeezing them into a rum & Coke. However, Troy isn't here to use them. God help me if I feel compelled to make a key lime pie in the days to come.

I made jam for the first time! Mannix's fig/Meyer lemon/fresh ginger jam, and it is excellent. Unfortunately, the little ones won't try it. Another very good thing I learned is how to make a Thai curry. This was my first, and it was excellent -- Thai hot. I would love to invite some people over to share it, but frankly, I'm too tired! Tomorrow will mark a real "she must be bored" first: the laundry will be done. This occurs less often than a total eclipse, so I may have to mark the occasion with...ah, no, not a pie. It would have to be a rum & Coke.

Life in the big house

There are days when I really feel like raising children must be a bit like being a prison warden. I joke about this to Kirsten often, as she really does work in a prison, in Denmark, where I would like to think that the inmates are slightly more civilized than in other places around the world. But I may be kidding myself. I digress.
I've noticed that when one of my inmates -- erm, I mean, sons -- is getting into trouble, sometimes that really riles the other ones and they start acting really rowdy and making monkey noises. "Oo! Oo!" And in my mind I flash back to all the prison movies I've ever seen, where the men start rattling their bars and making a ruckus. I run a tight ship, and I'd like to think I'm firm, but fair, like Robert Redford in "Brubaker." Anyway, today I snapped proof of my whole theory, as my baby, standing at the top of the stairs, gave me pause for thought.

Take thy beak from out my heart

In the continuing adventures of the action heroes, we were introduced to a new man this week, brought back from the travels of Jim & Gina: Mr. Edgar Allen Poe!

Leave it to Gina to find Edgar, complete with raven!

I felt immediately compelled to match-make again, and, considering Edgar's unfortunate romantic history (Lenore, Annabel Lee), I thought it best to set him up with Diana, a.k.a. Wonder Woman, the quintessential strong, healthy female.

I'll also be encouraging him to get outside a bit -- see if we can't do something about that ghostly pallor.