Weekend Snaps

Josie, smile!

"I'm going to the airport and the zoo." She wore this dress four days this week, snatching it from the hamper and insisting "it's not dewty!"

Making brownies for my cwass.

After a multi-day reseasoning process, I used my long-neglected cast iron skillet for thick cut steaks with herb butter and this brown butter chocolate chip cookie.

Josie takes a photo with the old digital camera that lives in the backseat.

I DON'T WANT A PICTURE.

Hanging out with the Sylvias at the Block to see Mike perform and enjoy the most glorious weather.

Margaret brought activities - when will I learn?

Second mimosa of the day. The first was a St. Germain mimosa at Liberty Bar during our Sunday brunch date - reading date. I read an interesting profile of a blogger I follow. Follow as in read not as in enact his advice. I'm a grasshopper >>> ant. LET ME LIVE.
 

The DMG.

Josie likes spicy food, including spicy chicken wings. Luke claims they've bonded over chile chicharrones. The rest of us shared pulled pork over a perfectly ripe halved avocado - something I need to try at home.

Climbing on bench...

Jumping from bench.

Spending time with Josie goes a lot like this.

She spies some fries.

Driving home by the Quarry during the Bird Time - thousands and thousands of birds flying, landing, taking off again. It's cacophonous.

Other weekend fun: watching the Oscars, 80% of The Wolfpack (Luke: is there anything you want to watch that isn't a cooking show?), a tough tough Saturday workout at Alamo 180, meal prep, a walk around Southtown after brunch, ordering Josie some more Sandra Boynton books because her teachers say she loves Moo Baa La La La!

Bright Eyes

“Life is your art. An open, aware heart is your camera. A oneness with your world is your film. Your bright eyes and easy smile is your museum.”

           Ansel Adams

The Many Faces of Clementine, age 3 (when she was just a baby here).

For-the-camera smile

A lot of this recently. Notice the inside out backwards leotard. I DO IT MYSELF!

Flipping through the new cast iron cookbook. I like 'amburgers... I like cinna-rohs!

It was a very blustery evening and the great gusts of wind startled her ... a big storm?

OK everything's fine now. She took apart the newspaper -- look, I make a carpet!

Making funny faces at my request.

Clem, make a ... SAD FACE.

A HAPPY FACE!

AN ANGRY FACE!

A SURPRISED FACE! (She was mimicking me here).

A SLEEPY FACE!

AN AWAKE FACE!

Mommy, I make a tiger face!

I'm a monkey!

I'm a-elephan'.

Josie v. The Banana

An Hour

from Mother's Milk by Edward St. Aubyn. The subject is the mother of two boys, the younger still a toddler. He's just fallen asleep.

When I feel stressed or resentful about the things I'm not doing, I think of the seasonality of life - I had years of my time, my schedule, my lunch dates, my nights of television and my mornings of reading books (reading books! in the morning! I did that!) Perhaps that is a drawback of being an older parent - mourning My Time, chafing a bit at continuous demands. Or it may be that I'm a person who needs a little restorative alone time, my tank feels a scant empty sometimes, and I long for the taskless moment and deadlineless evening (waking up at 4:30 in the morning wrenches the arc of the evening before, hurry hurry hurry, get to bed!)

But now is a glorious, maddening, hilarious time. Now is a finding one miniature ponytail holder per square foot of floor space, now is slicing strawberries, so many strawberries, now is reading the same book twice in row ('AGAIN!'). Now is the nightly search for Douglas the stuffed dog. Now is demanding that one apologize to the other and repeating that demand within five two minutes. Now is tiny white socks, everywhere, each a different size and slightly different degree of filthy. Now is the new routine of saying as we close the door, Goodnight Clementine, we're going to have a great day tomorrow and Clem shouting back 'WE WILL!'

Laughably, these are 80% of the books on my nightstand, as if I could delve into even one in the (maybe) hour I have between lunches made and lights out.

More Letters of Note: Correspondence Deserving of a Wider Audience  by Shaun Usher
Digital Photography (plus workbook, not pictured) by Henry Horenstein
Your Beauty Mark: The Ultimate Guide to Eccentric Glamour* by Dita von Teese
The Blue Bottle Craft of Coffee by James Freeman
Fodor's Montreal and Quebec City*
No-Drama Discipline by Daniel Siegel and Tina Payne Bryson
Secular Meditation: 32 Practices for Cultivating Inner Peace, Compassion, and Joy by Rick Heller of the Harvard Humanist Community
Siblings Without Rivalry by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish
Transfusion Medicine
100 Perfect Hair Days* by Jenny Strebe
On the Edge* by Edward St Aubyn
Bulletproof Cookbook* by Dave Asprey
Intraoperative Consultation in Surgical Pathology
Better Living Through Criticism: How to Think About Art, Pleasure, Beauty, and Truth* by A.O. Scott
1-2-3 Magic by Thomas Phelan

*library books that will eventually vacate the premises.

This pile of books reminds me of a Twilight Zone episode that I've never seen, I've only heard the synopsis from my dad: all a man wants is to be left alone to read his books and something happens to everyone else on earth -- free time galore! -- and THEN -- his glasses break and he can't read. Surrounded by books, can't read! I don't know why but this has taken on parable-esque stature for me, a cautionary tale about disengagement.