plums in the path

Our days in the sun

2012-01-27T00:09:00.000-08:00

It is not news to anyone that Seattle is gray this time of year. Although I choose to live here, this is the time of year, every year, that I question that decision. Seriously question it. It's also the time of year I regularly check flights to Arizona and Maui . . . a good deal should not be missed. In all honestly, the only way we make it through the gray months is to leave and go find the sun now and then.

Last month we managed to soak up some vitamin D in Baja, Mexico with Jill, Mark, and Sadie (the sister-cousin). We had a great time of it -- relaxing by the pool, playing on the beach, wandering around town, grocery shopping, going on a whale watch, cooking together, talking, reading, laughing, eating . . . you get the picture.

The place we stayed is a lovely resort in the corridor between San Jose del Cabo and Cabo San Lucas -- a place where we had adjoining rooms with a kitchen/living room suite facing the ocean. Each morning we woke to a lovely pink sky, the sound of crashing waves, and little woodpeckers drumming on the palm trees outside our room. Occasionally there was a pelican floating in the pool.

We were there the week before Christmas, which meant the lights and decorations were lovely. The resort even hosted a Posadas -- a traditional religious Mexican Christmas celebration that reinacts the journey of Joseph and Mary on their way to Bethlehem and their search for lodging. The Posadas included traditional Mexican Christmas foods like churros, spiced coffee, and tamales of several varieties. The evening was capped off with fire works and pinatas for the children. I thought it was a really special way to enjoy our last night in Mexico.

Although my tan is now fading, and I am back to taking 2000 IUs of vitamin D a day in order to function properly in this dreary place, I haven't forgotten even a little how much fun we had together.

Epilogue

2012-01-25T23:24:00.000-08:00

As you may recall, I posted here about all our nasty ailments this month, casually remarking that fortune had smiled on Wyatt and me, and we had not gotten Byron's stomach flu. Well, I spoke too soon.

At 12:46 a.m. on MLK day Wyatt got it. Three days later: me. Then Herman. Then Becky . . . Arlo . . . Darcy . . . Ryan . . . and possibly Darren. Basically, we contaminated everyone we love within a half-mile radius. It has been like a cruise ship "plague" around here (albeit minus the ship and activity director). We are very sorry, everyone.

Although recovered from this latest round of illness, Wyatt seems determined to pack as much physical discomfort into the month of January as possible and, accordingly, has set about growing himself four molars. This is cranky work. His gums are swollen and red and he has had a fever, off and on, for the past five days. Aside from nursing, he won't eat anything but grapes, yogurt, and the occasional "o." He has actually lost about a pound. Poor little guy.

He's managed to get three teeth through the gum so far this month, one left to go. If the rate we're going through baby ibuprofen is any indicator, it should be here within hours.

He's quite miserable when his mouth hurts so much. I suppose it could only be made worse by poking him with needles . . . Oh wait, we did that on Monday -- four immunizations in his cute little thighs at the 12-month check up. Now I'm told he may get an "impressive" rash about a week out from the measles or chicken pox vaccines that he received.

All I can say is we've got six more days in January -- bring it on.

Neither colds nor stomach flu nor teething keeps Wyatt from doing his favorite thing -- unloading the dishwasher (and sometimes trying to load himself into it).

What I saw

2012-01-17T23:51:00.000-08:00

The snow that fell today made us want to venture out. Wyatt was intrigued from the moment he saw it coming down. So when the flurries cleared, I bundled him up and took him for a two-hour walk in the neighborhood -- to the coffee shop then home by way of a meandering route that I'm certain I couldn't repeat.

Maybe it was the snow or just that I had a camera around my neck. Whatever the reason, today I saw things differently.

Ebelskiver morning (with instructional video)

2012-01-16T23:47:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we started the day with little spherical pancakes filled with tasty things. Of the fillings, I think my favorite is Nutella. Wyatt liked the blackberry jam filling, with lemon curd coming in a close second. Byron mostly sticks to the ones filled with homemade strawberry jam.

Ever since our friends Bonnie and Joe gave us an ebelskiver pan for Christmas a few years back, we've been making these Danish breakfast treats, especially on winter weekends. Turns out, they are the perfect size for a one year old to feed himself. And our one year old ate three of them -- no parts of which were thrown to the floor (and that's saying something these days).

An hour later, he ate another one.

Today, he ate leftover ebelskivers. Three more down the hatch. Turns out they are every bit as tasty as fresh ones.

These golf ball sized treats are easy to make, and if you're up for a break from waffles and pancakes, give them a try if you can find a pan. Although I'm not usually one who likes making things like this from a mix, we use a Stonewall Kitchen mix that turns out great (I know it's available at Sur La Table). We've made them from scratch, but haven't found a recipe that turns out as tasty as the mix. We'll keep doing research on that . . .

In the meantime, here's some photo inspiration from our kitchen, including a short, instructional video on how to eat an ebelskiver.

Click on the picture below for a short, instructional video on how to eat an ebelskiver.

We know, this photo doesn't look like a video clip, but just click on it.

The sick house

2012-01-16T23:08:00.000-08:00

That's where we've been living for nearly all of this month, so far.

Upon returning from all our holiday travels and fun, Wyatt and I caught nasty colds -- his turned into a cough and then an ear infection, mine gave me a record-setting sore throat and sat in my sinuses for a week. Lovely.

Our feverish little baby sleeping on his dad.

Herman made the mistake of coming upstairs to see us one evening saying, "Oh I'm tough, don't worry about me, I'll be fine." Of course, Wyatt put his fingers into his grandpa's mouth, generously sharing his cold. And that's how Herman got sick.

In truth, we were all very impressed that Byron didn't catch it.

After a visit to the pediatrician to acquire antibiotics for Wyatt and lots of tea and tissues for me, we managed to pull it together for Wyatt's birthday weekend, feeling good enough for company (my parents) and a party for Wy. Then, after everyone left, we had a bit of a relapse -- a couple days of feeling sick and fighting the snotty noses again while Byron was away on his jaunt to Switzerland.

We had Byron back home with us only about eight hours before he woke up with chills, fever, and nausea. He's convinced it was the smelly Ukrainian woman he sat next to on the plane who gave it to him. Her, or perhaps the nasty calzone that the airline served. Personally, I think it's what you get for spending 24 hours flying somewhere -- anywhere -- in January.

Regardless of where it came from, Wyatt and I wanted no part of it, so we relegated Byron to the bedroom, where he was happiest anyway. I fear I was not a terribly sympathetic or helpful nurse to him. I think I offered tea and toast a couple times, but he was pretty much on his own.

In our effort to keep the fever and chills at bay, Wyatt and I slept on a bed I made up on the floor in Wy's room. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but by 4 a.m. my back couldn't take it any more and Wyatt kept waking up trying to find his dad, so we came back to our soft, cozy, warm family bed and slept the rest of the night. Germs be damned.

Luckily, none of us caught what Byron had. And as of today, he says he's back to feeling good again. Herman is better too.

Tonight, we are all well. We're hoping for lots of snow in the next few days so we can take our healthy selves out into it and have some fun.

There and back again

2012-01-13T23:26:00.000-08:00

The last few days have been beautiful here. Cold, yes. But lovely. On these clear, cold mornings the first thing I see when I look out the window is the snowy Olympic Range. I never get tired of it.

This morning, I stood and watched as the mountains turned from pink to white as the sun came up. The moon was still high in the sky. Breathtaking.

Byron had a view of different mountains this week. He was in Switzerland. Plus, he got to see every mountain range between here and Switzerland from the air. Pretty cool.

Byron was traveling on business. Not typical for him, but a neat opportunity to work with European colleagues. I think he spent more time in the air than on the ground this week (maybe not quite). We managed to FaceTime so Byron could get his Wyatt fix and so we could keep up with his goings and comings and what he was finding to eat in local restaurants. It seems the Swiss do potatoes lots of ways.

As you can deduce, Byron's trip meant a new adventure for me, too. Since Tuesday, I've been a single parent. Wyatt's pretty easy, as kids go, so it wasn't bad. That said, I hadn't showered since Wednesday because I couldn't find that much time to myself. Some things just fall by the wayside when you're always "on" I guess!

But after basically 24 hours of flying this week, Byron came home to us today. He and Wy are tucked into bed snoring even as I write this. Tired but oh so glad to be home -- and to have him home.

Wyatt and I had some adventures, ourselves, while he was away. We walked around Green Lake with Dawn and Gussie. Had a play date with two of Wy's favorite girls. Took in the sights and lights of downtown, doing errands and getting a hair cut (me, not Wyatt). Had dinner with our friends, the Zs. Visited the zoo. Made a trip to Trader Joe's . . . you get the idea. Big, big adventures. In truth, whether we went anywhere or not (and Wednesday we did not for most of the day), I found the few days of single parenthood to be a new challenge.

I'm a bit of a worrier, truth be told. I didn't sleep quite as well being the only one in bed with Wyatt -- or being in the house alone (technically, Byron's dad was downstairs and that helped somehow).

Although I always spend my days with Wyatt, these days felt different somehow. I knew Byron was a long way off, that he wasn't able to drop what he was doing and meet me at the emergency room, if necessary. This week he wasn't 30 minutes away, he was a good two days out.

Okay, so nothing bad happened. Wyatt even got more baths than I did. I guess my point here, if there is one, is that things (and especially parenting) are easier knowing that you have the possibility of help and that you aren't in it alone.

This week, as much as I felt Byron's absence, I also felt the presence of my extended community -- friends, family, neighbors -- to whom we are special (and they to us). People in my corner. The numbers in my iphone "favorites list." Those who would drop everything to help if we needed it. You know who you are. Thanks for being there. I knew I could call you if I needed to.

Three tacos, a cake, and a baby

2012-01-11T00:10:00.000-08:00

Last Friday we partied. My parents came for a visit so we whooped it up with them and a handful of others to celebrate Wyatt's first birthday. After spending such a fun week in Mexico in December, we decided to try to capture all those wonderful flavors and sunshine again with a Mexican food theme for the party.

I made three taco fillings: a roasted sweet potato with onion and Rancho Gordo New Mexican Red Chili Powder; veggie burger with onions; and my all-time favorite taco filling . . . . poblanos rajas. This one is the perfect combination of spicy and creamy. I really can't remember where we got the recipe. Could be a Rick Bayless thing. But the preparation is so simple that it can hardly be called a recipe anyway.

Poblanos Rajas
4 or 5 fresh poblano peppers
1 large white or yellow onion
Olive oil
1/4 to 1/3 c heavy cream
1/2 tsp. dried Mexican Oregano
Salt

Grill the poblanos over an open flame until the skins blacken and blister. I grilled mine on the gas range over the "power burner." You'll want to watch for sparks from the stems burning off, but otherwise, it worked great. Toss the blackened peppers into a small bowl and cover with a plate or plastic wrap. The idea here is you want the peppers to steam as they cool.

Once cool enough to handle, peel away the skin...even the areas that didn't blister, if any. Then slice them open and remove the seeds and the stem. Slice the peppers into strips. Reserve.

Slice the onions into boat-shaped pieces (cut from stem to root and then slice each half the same way) a little wider than the width of the poblano slices.

In a large skillet or saute pan, saute the onion in olive oil on medium-high heat until it just begins to soften. Add the poblano pepper strips and continue cooking another few minutes to heat the peppers through and until the onions are toothsome, but not crunchy.

Reduce the heat and pour in some cream -- just enough to make the peppers and onions creamy, you aren't making a sauce here. You want the cream to warm up but don't let it boil or it will break and, well, it won't be pretty (although it's still edible). Add dry oregano and salt to taste. Serve warm.

And to make the fillings even better, we enjoyed them on fresh tortillas courtesy of Byron. Rice, beans, chips and salsa and guacamole rounded out the meal. And then there was dessert.

Soggy cake is generally not my thing. I have never been much for trifle. And every tres leches cake from a store that I've ever eaten has left me wondering why everyone loves it.

This is why. When made at home, soaked with the right amount of liquid, and topped with mounds of lightly sweetened whipped cream it's not hard to know why tres leches cake is a true Mexican comfort food. I will admit that it's not much to look at. But who cares. It's awesome. I had never made one before but will definitely find a reason do so again -- soon! (MLK day could require cake, right?) In case you're interested, here's the recipe I used.

By 8 p.m. when we cut the cake, Wyatt was pretty much ready to go to bed. To his credit, he was curious about the cake and poked and pinched it to investigate. He thoroughly inspected the cherry on top before licking his fingers and deciding it was pretty good stuff. He wasn't sure how to get it into his mouth with any efficiency, however, so he seemed relieved when his dad offered him a few bites from a fork. The cake was a good choice, I think, for a little person with no molars to speak of. The rest of us didn't mind either.

Of course our celebration wouldn't have been complete without some decorations, extended family, and a few gifts. Thank you, all, for helping us mark Wyatt's first year.

Birthday boy with the grandparents Worrell

Reading books with his buddy, Arlo, on the afternoon of his birthday.

A festive party table.

Wyatt was aided in unwrapping his birthday gifts by older "cousin" Arlo, who showed him how it was done. (Photo by Darren Mutz)

Yes, there were hats. (Photo by Darren Mutz)

When it came to eating his cake, Wy opted for a little help. (Photo by Darren Mutz)

A little post-party reading of his favorite book with Uncle Darren. (Photo by Becky Worrell)

365 days ago

2012-01-05T23:30:00.000-08:00

I was spending the night in the hospital so my doctor could monitor me and my baby, who, at that point still inside of me, was not tolerating my mild early labor contractions too happily. I was four days past my due date, and I remember knowing that this was the beginning of what we'd been waiting for for the previous 40 weeks. That within a day or so we would meet our little baby.

They gave me a drug that was supposed to help my body get closer to being ready for labor while I slept. But I remember that I didn't do too much sleeping on this night a year ago. My contractions became stronger and more uncomfortable, and sometime in the early morning of the 6th, they gave me another drug to stop the effects of the first one. Grover wasn't liking the increased contractions and they didn't want to stress him out any more than he already apparently was.

About 7 a.m., after breakfast, my water broke. The rest is a bit of a blur.

Holding my baby tonight, putting him to bed, I wonder how he was ever small enough to fit inside me. He's more than 24 pounds now and getting longer every day it seems. Every night as he falls asleep and relaxes, he always wants to stretch out -- no curling up and cuddling with this baby as he sleeps. He needs his space. In retrospect, I guess he did from the start.

Happy Birthday, baby.

Wyatt -- 2 days old

Two scrambles

2011-12-30T23:04:00.000-08:00

Don't ask me why (My story is: "I had a baby this year"), but I waited until this week, yes the last week of the year, to finish my last ten continuing legal education credits that I am required to complete by December 31. Here I am on December 30, scrambling to get them finished by watching "on demand" seminars late at night streamed to my laptop. Only two more hours to go (and in true form I'm saving them for tomorrow so I can write this post before bed. ) What was I thinking putting off my CLEs? This is not fun.

What I would much rather be doing is sitting on a warm, sunny beach in Mexico enjoying cold beverages and delicious Mexican food with friends and family. Oh wait! That's what I did all last week. (I know, I brought this on myself . . . )

Byron, Wyatt, and I spent a glorious seven days with our friends (and family) Jill, Mark, and Sadie in Cabo San Lucas, coming home to their house in San Francisco on Christmas Eve. (I assure you that a separate post all about that fun week will be forthcoming upon completion of my CLE scramble.)

Current situation notwithstanding, the only scramble I've had occasion to think about lately is Mark's Mexican Egg Scramble, which I ate no less than three times (and possibly more) while in Cabo. This dish, topped with all manner of salsas and avocado, became my favorite breakfast. I suppose it was a good thing Mark whipped up this dish every day or so since we bought six dozen eggs (seriously) to eat over the week we were there.

I've taken a break from eggs for a while now that I'm home. But when I start eating them again, I'll be scrambling up some eggs like this.

Mark's Mexican Scramble
serves 4-6

4 (or more) corn tortillas cut into half-inch strips
a bit of oil
8-10 eggs, broken into a bowl and scrambled together with a fork
4 ounces monterery jack cheese, cut into pieces
salt and pepper to taste
Toppings: salsas, sour cream, hot sauce, avocado

Cut the tortillas into strips and toast them until they have some color and are crispy in a lightly oiled, nonstick skillet. To keep the tortillas from getting soggy in the eggs, they have to be nice and crisp.

Add salt to the bowl of scrambled eggs, and pour the eggs into the skilled on top of the toasted strips, stirring up everything together. When the eggs just begin to cook, add the pieces of cheese, and scramble everything together until cooked to the level of doneness that you desire.

Top the scramble with freshly made tomato-onion-cilantro salsa, ranchero sauce, hot sauce, slices of avocado, sour cream/plain yogurt or whatever combination of toppings you like best. Eat.

A baby-proof Christmas

2011-12-27T22:52:00.000-08:00

Despite my best intentions to post about some of the things we have been doing to celebrate the Christmas holiday, life this month has blitzed by and somehow I never got to it. So I thought that before we take the Christmas tree down, which is slated for later today, I should tell you about it. Mostly, I just wanted to remember how much fun Wyatt has had playing with the lowest branches and how we came up with a fairly kid-friendly solution to decorations this year.

As is our tradition, we ventured out with friends Ryan, Darcy, and Arlo to get the tree the day after Thanksgiving. We took home a noble fir that smells great, even now. In an effort to keep the tree from being a child hazard and to eliminate one more "no zone" for Wyatt, we opted for simple decorations -- white lights and a felted wool garland.

Here's what I did: I recycled leftover half-inch-thick wool carpet padding for the garland. My friend Carrie and her daughter, Mia, and I spent a good part of the day cutting the material into squares and little bird shapes and stringing them onto wool yarn. Wy and Will crawled around amid the piles of felted wool, enjoying the tastes and textures. We made garlands for both families. Now that the garland is on the tree, I see Wy touching it periodically. It's a bit rustic looking, but I don't mind. It's also soft, non toxic, and easy to repair if it comes apart.

As for the lights, I used cool-to-the-touch LED white lights this year (in a warm white color) so that when Wyatt touched them they wouldn't be hot. Inevitably, he put them in his mouth a few times but we taught him not to fairly quickly. Now he swings the branches, lights, and garland every time ambles by.

Will and Wy amid the garland making.

Will and his mom, Carrie

Wyatt tangling himself up in the felt

Wyatt, Decemeber 8, 2011, with our tree.

December 15

2011-12-16T23:50:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we celebrated -- all day long -- the birthday of my dear friend Jill with a bit of a road trip. After dropping Sadie at school, Mark, Jill, Wyatt, Byron and me headed to the Napa Valley for the day.

We managed a stop at Rancho Gordo to salivate over beans and bean accoutrements. We bought a few -- I loaded up on the Christmas limas -- and the birthday girl even came away with a squatty clay cazuela. And we enjoyed a leisurely lunch at Bottega, one of Michael Chiarello's restaurants, in Yountville. The man does know his food.

Wyatt, who had slept all the way to the Valley, was ready to eat by the time we'd arrived at Bottega. He happily gobbled up a majority of our polenta appetizer (creamy polenta with Parmesan and wild mushrooms and a balsamic-game reduction sauce) while the rest of us enjoyed nibbling on the others: burrata with walnut crostini, calamari, and focaccia from the Model Bakery with a garlicky Parmesan spread. We moved on to salads of Brussels sprouts with citrus, and beets with blue cheese, then progressed on to entrees that included a spinach and ricotta raviolo with a poached egg and black truffles, pan fried potato gnocchi with winter vegetables, short ribs, and skirt steak. The bottle of zin from Brown Estate that we shared went well with everything.

Part way through the main courses Wy decided on another nap, which provided yet more time to savor our time together and order another course and coffee. For dessert: a super creamy panna cotta with pineapple compote and candied grapefruit, affogado of coffee over salted caramel ice cream with a crunchy Marcona almond cookie, and, of course, the mini doughnuts with creme anglaise and raspberry jam. Oh so good.

Three hours later, we ventured further up the Valley to St. Helena to wander main street shops and enjoy the holiday lights. Our trip was not completely without agenda, however, as we really wanted to give the English muffins made by the Model Bakery a try. Apprently they have quite a following.

Half of the dozen muffins that we bought turned into dinner later (although at the time we bought them we didn't think we'd ever want to eat again) . . . a dinner of toasted muffins with butter and strawberry freezer jam and mugs of tea. Tender, light, fluffy, a bit like a savory doughnut, actually. I think we'll have to learn to make them ourselves given how far away we are from Napa.

Before lunch, Jill and Mark also generously accompanied us to visit some friends from law school who now live in the Napa countryside -- Helen and Jason and their little girl Marina and Helen's dad, Richard, and his lovely wife, Mary. We were so excited to see them again, and to meet Marina and to introduce them to Wyatt. They live in a wonderful spot. Vines, fields, woods with gnarled trees, hills, and blue sky above it all . . . beautiful even in midwinter.

Helen and Jason built a house for themselves on the same property that Helen grew up on, down the hill from her dad's house. In February, they will welcome a baby boy into their family. We were so pleased to spend a little time with them catching up, telling stories, seeing their pizza oven, cellar and still, relaxing . . . and being reminded how glad we are to know them and consider them our friends.

Although the drive back to the city required fighting more traffic than we'd hoped, Mark got us all home safely after a thoroughly enjoyable day together.

At the risk of sounding a bit sentimental, I must also add that when Jill and I met way back in 1984 and nearly instantly became friends, I had no idea that I had just gained one of the richest and best relationships of my life. Happy Birthday to my smart, funny, interesting, capable, strong, and beautiful friend. I am so privileged to know and love you.

A whole year

2011-11-17T22:23:00.001-08:00

Last year on November 15 we moved Byron's dad from Canada to the U.S. He's been living with us for an entire year now. Seriously hard to believe. In honor of this milestone, I made a special dish for dinner on Wednesday night -- our weekly family dinner with Herman.

Herman is mostly vegetarian, and he is a big fan of homemade gluten steaks, mashed potatoes, and gravy. When Byron's mom was alive, she made legendary gluten (also called seitan, commercially). I had never tried to make it, but given the occasion I decided to give it a try so I dug out her recipe. It's a cinch to make. The texture turned out nice and tender, just like I remember hers being. But the broth, which gives the gluten its flavor, wasn't quite right. We decided it needed Vegemite -- something not in her recipe but something that we are pretty certain she added.

After making the gluten and simmering it a while in the broth, I breaded and fried the gluten steaks. Our dinner also included mashed potatoes and mushroom gravy, a greens-radicchio-fennel salad, and pumpkin pie. It was a hit.

Herman pronounced the meal "more than edible!," which I believe means he really liked it. He tells me, however, that Elvie, a woman from his church back in B.C., makes the best gluten in the world. Maybe I'll email her and see if she will share her secrets.

Gluten can be seasoned many different ways by changing the contents of the simmering broth, and it can be used in everything from stir fries and casseroles, to eating it alone or, as I have been known to do (and greatly enjoy) breading and frying it and making it into a sandwich on homemade bread.

Esther's Homemade Gluten

Mix together:
3 cups 100% gluten flour (Bob's Red Mill makes this)
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup white flour

add 3 cups cold water
Mix well and knead into a ball. Cover with plastic wrap and let it sit at least an hour, or overnight, in the fridge.

When you are ready for the next step, remove from the fridge and cut pieces of dough off the ball -- about half the size of a golf ball -- and stretch them thin (don't worry that the edges will be thicker than the middle). Drop the stretched pieces into simmering broth (recipe follows). Simmer the pieces at least 30 minutes, but an hour or more is good since the longer it simmers the more flavor the broth will impart to the gluten. The gluten pieces will puff up as they cook. After simmering, cool and remove the gluten pieces from the broth. Store the finished gluten in the fridge for a few days, or freeze it if you won't be using it right away.

Broth:
6 cups water
1 cup tomato juice
1 Tbs. McKay's chicken seasoning
1/2 cup soy sauce (I use more)
1 tsp. garlic powder
1 tsp. onion powder
1Tbs. Vegemite (secret ingredient?)
salt

The broth should be too salty to eat alone in order to flavor the gluten adequately.

Makes a lot.

Nothing gold can stay

2011-11-16T22:42:00.001-08:00

We didn't realize it at the time, but it seems that yesterday might have been the last time we'll see the sun around here for a while. Today it's rainy, windy, cold, and generally icky. It's the day all the pretty leaves get stripped from the trees, making way for the gray to set in. Robert Frost was right.

But before I start bitching about Seattle in the winter and am forced to embrace The Season of Darkness and Holiday Lights (as I like to call it in our neighborhood), I wanted to post some photographic evidence (which I shot with my new iphone) that we did have a fall and that yesterday, in particular, was lovely.

Wyatt: 10 months 5 days

Mother and BOB self portrait

This is a very good life that I have

2011-11-11T00:00:00.000-08:00

The past month or so has been different. Finally. It's given us opportunity to sit still, share meals with friends and family that we have not seen enough of in the past many months, and just be. I desperately hope this kind of slowing down can continue. Our lives have been so full and, unfortunately, also full throttle for the past 18 months. Finding a pace that feels more like normal and less like the "we can get through this, we know we can" mode that we had gotten use to would be wonderful.

This week I have reason to be busy again with preparations for a family visit this weekend and a minor flood caused by a water hose coming loose from the back of the refrigerator. But I've done my best to stick to my slow living plan.

I lead a very good life, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. Long to do lists aside, I am determined to take time to savor the people I'm with and the day itself, whenever possible (and did I mention savor the food, too?). On Monday, Wyatt and I treated ourselves to tacos boniato at Agua Verde after an appointment nearby. Afterward, we spent an hour walking along the marina and the waterfront, admiring the brilliant leaves and watching squirrels and ducks and gulls. Wyatt was cold as an ice cube by the end of it but he seemed to love every minute. Yesterday I had the most pleasurable afternoon drinking coffee and eating an outstanding canele in the company of a lovely friend and her 11-month-old daughter. Our conversation ranged from food to law to dreams to travel to babies. And speaking of the babies, they took naps on our laps. Quite perfect, I'd say. Today Wyatt and I lunched with Byron near his office, something I'm pleased to say that we have done almost every week for the last month or so. We finished the afternoon with a stop at our local coffee shop, just the two of us. Coffee for me. Cheerios and a milk break for Wy.

And in case you're wondering. Here's what slowing down to enjoy this very good life looks like.

Poulet à la Fermière

2011-11-10T21:33:00.001-08:00

We have entered the season of one-pot meals. I made a batch of chili over the weekend. Tomorrow night it'll be a pot of soup. And last Friday it was Poulet à la Fermière (chicken by the farmer's wife) accompanied by a good loaf of bread and some stinky cheese.

I make a vegetarian version with soy chicken, which is actually quite tasty, but it can be made either way. Our recipe is adapted from one that appeared in Gourmet magazine, back in the days when that lovely publication still existed.

I'm sharing the recipe here because every time I make it I vow to make it more often and then I misplace the recipe. Now it'll be among those on my blog and I'll have no excuse. And, well, we all need a little inspiration and a new recipe now and then, right?

Happy fall and happy cooking.

Poulet à la Fermière
adapted from Gourmet March 2001

2 lb chicken thighs and drumsticks. (I often use soy chicken torn into pieces i.e. Worthington Chiketts or one of the Quorn products.)
1 tbsp unsalted butter
6 sprigs parsley
2 sprigs thyme
1 bay leaf (not California)
4 carrots, cut diagonally into 1-inch slices
2 cups pearl onions
½ cup white wine
⅓ cup chicken broth (or veggie broth)
1 lb small potatoes (peel or not)
⅔ cup crème fraîche
1 cup baby peas
1 cup grated Gruyère

Best pan: Le Creuset covered casserole or large covered saute pan

Pat chicken dry and season with salt and pepper. Heat butter and brown chicken in batches, 8–10 minutes. Remove from heat and pour off all but 1 tbsp fat.

Make a bouquet garni of the parsley, thyme, bay leaf and add to pan with carrots and onions. Add wine and deglaze over high heat until volume is reduced by half.

This is what browned soy chicken looks like.

Fingerling potatoes work great in this recipe.

Add broth and chicken, skin sides up, and simmer covered about 10 minutes. Add potatoes, some salt and pepper, and simmer covered until chicken is cooked and potatoes are tender, about 15-25 min. (If I use soy chicken I add the chicken and potatoes together.)

Preheat broiler and remove bouquet garni. Stir in peas and crème fraîche and correct seasoning. Sprinkle Gruyère on top and broil until browned and bubbling (takes longer than you think).

Serves 4

My sous chef -- good luck finding someone as cute as him to help you out.

The color of dark chocolate

2011-11-01T20:29:00.000-07:00

The house has been painted and it is the color of chocolate. This is lovely on so many levels.

Notice, please, that I did not say, "we painted the house." Because, strictly speaking, that is not true. We did not do it ourselves and, honestly, that's one of the nicest things about it! We actually hired out a task that, technically, we could have done. This could get addictive.

I knew I wanted a nice rich, dark shade of brown. Not a red brown but a grayish brown that wouldn't clash with our slightly gray-blue roof. Something that would match the dark splotches in the tan brick on the east side of the house. We tried a few shades that we picked up at a home improvement store that all looked promising. The shade we chose is called dark cavern.

The painters spent most of their time prepping (which is good because the house was in tough shape) but they also managed to put about three coats of paint over the tinted primer (it's a long story how we ended up with that many coats), and it looks great. Plus, the house will never need to be painted again in my lifetime. (I'm only half kidding.)

We now have our work cut out for us to finish landscaping the front yard before it turns into a mud pit this winter. Hopefully, by this time next week I'll be posting pictures of Phase I of the front yard for you to admire.

My vision is that within a couple years the plants will grow in nicely in front of the light-colored brick and compliment the rich hue of the house. I have lots of dark-leaved and fall-color plants -- a couple Diablo nine barks, Japanese maples, oak-leaf hydrangeas, a chartreuse smoke tree, and well -- you'll see it when it's done.

One thing at a time.

Doughnuts with Sadie and other fun

2011-10-23T23:30:00.000-07:00

Last weekend we had a wonderful visit from Jill, Mark, and Sadie. It was Mark's first opportunity to meet Wyatt, and, of course, Wyatt liked him instantly.

As always, when we get together there is much eating, walking, and talking. We ate pho and banh mi, Ethiopian, Snappy Dragon, and even made homemade doughnuts. We walked a couple times around Green Lake, and we visited several playgrounds. All of this was only made better by good conversations of the sort you can only have with those whom you have known for what seems like always.

Without doubt, one of the highlights for me was making Cinderella pumpkin doughnuts with Sadie. She carefully measured, stirred, and mixed the entire recipe, including separating one of the eggs herself, while I read the recipe directions and made sure nobody turned the Kitchen Aid all the way up to 10. I've always enjoyed cooking with kids and this was kid cooking at its best. Once the dough was mixed we let it chill for only a fraction of the recommended time -- well, because we wanted to eat them of course -- and then patted out the sticky dough, cut it into doughnuts, and passed them on baking sheets to Byron at his outdoor frying station. After they were fried, Sadie and Jill dipped them all in a cinnamon glaze (which sounds spicy but really was perfect). And just about as fast as they were glazed, we ate them. Excellent fun!

The weekend went way too fast, but we did out best to eek all the fun and together-time we could from the three days we had with them. My pictures from our time together are spotty as I was too busy having a good time. Jill also posted some pics and stories from our time together here.

One other highlight of the weekend was the whole suitcase of hand-me-down books and toys and puzzles that Sadie generously brought to give to Wyatt, including Dressy Bessy and Rody, which he is thoroughly enjoying.

We missed them the instant they got back on the plane, but we're looking forward to our next trip together in December -- to the sun!

Walking (or riding) around Green Lake

Story time with Jill and Sadie

The doughnut frying man

Doughnut cheerleaders

Chef Sadie measured all the ingredients for the doughnuts and made the magic glaze for our doughnuts

Turns out babies love doughnuts too

Rody -- one of the toys Sadie gave to Wyatt -- has delicious ears

At the playground at Green Lake

October in The District of Columbia

2011-10-17T22:18:00.000-07:00

The Washington Monument at night from a moving vehicle.

We had great fun on our recent trip to Washington, D.C. Wyatt and I mostly just played, went sightseeing and to the museums while Byron spent his days at a scientific conference. We enjoyed the good company of Bonnie, Joe, and eight-week-old Oliver each day and their cats, Milo and Jax. Thanks to their generous loan of a stroller, we walked everywhere we could, hopped the Metro a few times (oh, if only Seattle could get one of those . . . ) and almost took the Tourmobile. We had dinner at Luigi's, enjoyed homemade portabello cheese steaks, and on our last day, ate a delicious lunch at Lalibela Ethiopian Restaurant near Logan's Circle. Our week sped by too quickly, but we certainly enjoyed every minute.

Outside the north gate of The White House

Union Station architecture

Calder mobile in the East Wing of the National Gallery

From the permanent Calder exhibit

More Calder

Wyatt and I had a picnic on The Mall -- Fig Newmans, bananas, and yogurt for him, a pretzel with mustard for me.

Serious topaz at the Smithsonian Natural History Museum

T-Rex

Julia Child's kitchen

The Washington Monument on a sunny afternoon

At the National Zoo

Luckily, Wyatt liked the actual Giant Pandas

Oliver and his dad

Oliver (in a bit of a milk coma) and his mom, Bonnie

Wyatt and his adventurous new feline friend, Milo

It was dusk for two and a half hours

2011-10-10T12:03:00.000-07:00

Every now and then I have a moment where something ordinary strikes me as beautiful. Our flight home from Washington D.C. was like that. We lifted off from Reagan at about six in the evening and as the plane circled around to head northwest, the sun reflected in a thousand windows at once. Washington D.C. and Virginia were made of gold! I saw the Capitol and the Washington Monument, the Potomac (which, thankfully, isn't quite as brown as it used to be), a gorgeous golf course, and parks and playfields galore -- all rosy with the late day's light.

As our flight settled in at 35,000 feet, the sky was cloud free, which gave me a great view of the meandering Ohio River. Beginning in the Ohio River valley, the patchwork patterns on the ground gave me pause to think about the rich, hardworking farmland in the "middle" of America. I wondered how much of what I eat is really grown there. From my vantage point, every few squares of the earth was a different color -- sometimes red brown, sometimes black, sometimes greenish. Groups of squares bounded by narrow gray roads and the occasional ball field or river.

We flew over Lake Erie and then Detroit, a remarkably beautiful city from the air at twilight. I have never visited that city and actually hadn't realized it was right on Lake St. Claire, a perfect little carved-out body of water with Lake Erie not far away.

From there, we popped up above a layer of clouds. It looked as though we were flying above a dessert of pink and gray sand dunes, miles and miles of dunes, all reflecting the brilliant-yet-fading western sunset. The best part was that the sunset didn't fade -- at least not for a long while. There we were, two hours into the flight and it was still dusk.

From there the clouds got lumpier, with mountains and valleys of clouds that we passed through on our journey. Periodically, I'd see a cluster of twinkling lights break through the clouds, and I had a sense it was darker below us than above. The last thing I saw below, before the last light faded from the sky, was lots of ribbon-like roads.

Not long after the sky went dark, the captain came over the speaker and told us that if we strained our eyes to the left of the plane, we could see the lights of Billings, Montana. Hmm. A bit of an odd landmark I thought (apologies, Darcy).

And then my baby woke up. After three and a half hours of peaceful, damp, snoring-softly sleep, Wyatt was awake and wanted to look out the window with me.

As we neared home, we spied the Grand Coulee Dam, the Columbia River, and then after the darkness of the mountains, the glowing light of the Greater Seattle area. On our descent, we saw downtown Seattle and the Space Needle. And then we landed at SeaTac, which for this nervous flyer, was also a beautiful thing.

Seeing the sights in D.C.

2011-10-05T07:59:00.000-07:00

Outside the North Lawn of The White House, October 2011

I haven't been here in a while, in part because we are spending the week in Washington D.C. while Byron attends a scientific conference. Lucky for us, this town also contains some terrific friends -- Bonnie, Joe and their new baby boy, Oliver. Wyatt and I are having a great time seeing the sights and hanging out with Oliver and his mom. More stories and photos when we return!

A year examined

2011-09-23T00:04:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking lately about all the change I've experienced in my life over the past year. Hands down the most welcomed change is that our lives have slowed down a lot. We lived in total chaos and at a hectic pace last fall -- getting the downstairs remodeled in time to move Herman down from Canada, getting ready for a baby, and then all the other stuff we added to it. These days life is still full, but its more fun and less frenzied. It's also more focused on the important, rather than just being caught up in whatever is most urgent at the moment.

Most of the change has been good. Of course, giving birth to Wyatt and having the joy and fun and adventure that comes with adding a child to your family has been the best of it. I've also gotten to see a new side of my spouse as he gets used to being a dad. It's fun to see how happy being a dad makes Byron, how good he is at it, and how much Wyatt loves everything about him. After being together for more than 20 years, it's pretty special to share something so meaningful and to get to see a new side of your partner.

It's been a great relief to get Herman's suite nearly finished. Having him move in with us and become part of our family has also been nice. I didn't really know what to expect when we decided to create a multi-generational home a few years back. Now that we're living it, I like it. That's not to say there haven't been some challenges -- mostly health-related as of late for Herman -- but so far they haven't been anything we can't handle together. I know a lot more about hearing aids than I used to. And it's pretty handy to have a neighbor downstairs from whom I can borrow an egg if I need it (and I have). Plus, it is really fun to see Herman, now 87 years old, light up the moment he sees his grandson. I'm glad Wyatt will know him and I'm glad Herman is surrounded by family once again.

Some of the changes have been less than ideal -- the jiggly nature of my midsection now, the lack of quality sleep (why am I still up?), and not having time to finish (or even begin) home projects as planned. But, I'm exercising more, Wyatt is beginning to nurse only about once in the night now, and we've decided to get someone else to paint our house this fall. This is progress.

Just for fun, here's a look at then . . . and now.


Wyatt (known as Grover in utero) -- September 20, 2010

Wyatt using his eight teeth to go at a cob of corn -- September 20, 2011.

Fall and remembering

2011-09-19T22:37:00.000-07:00

Summer has given way to fall, and no season rushes up as quickly or is as welcomed by me as this one. I swear the air is different. The locust trees have begun to drop their gold leaves and the wind is kicking them around in the street. My dahlias are past their prime. We even had our first rain, yesterday.

Fall means lots of things to me. Among them: chili and cornbread, oatmeal for breakfast, and more things with crusts like pot pies, fruit pies, pumpkin pies, and cobblers. It means you can get out your sweater and slippers from the back of the closet. And if you light candles at dinner, it actually gets dark enough to see them while you eat. Fall means travel and gift planning for the holidays, it means driving around town and having to stop behind school busses, and it means my towel will actually dry between showers because the house is warmer and drier thanks to turning on the furnace. And then there is the doughnut making.

Making doughnuts is our fall tradition. It's also an act of remembering. My mother in law, Esther, passed away 15 years ago tomorrow. She made doughnuts in the fall, too.

Esther was a lovely woman. I knew her for only about six years and she was in her 60s then. I remember one time that she and Herman came to visit Byron and me at college when we were dating. He was playing in a hockey game and I was sitting in the stands with Esther and Herman watching the game. She was so concerned that I stay warm enough that she nabbed the bedspread off their hotel bed and brought it along to the hockey rink, insisting that I wrap myself in it. I always felt that she was genuinely thrilled to have me in the family when I married her son.

She was many things: a caring mother who always tucked a $20 bill into notes to her son, a baker of good bread and even better cinnamon buns, and a connoisseur of classical music who followed along with her own score when we took her to The Messiah one Christmas. I also remember her nutty phrase like "Heavens to Betsy" and "I've had the biscuit." I say them occasionally and think of her and smile.

Before she married Byron's dad, she had a life full of adventure as a single woman -- pursuing a master's degree in nursing and then teaching obstetrics nursing in Boston and Los Angeles and Portland, Oregon. Only after doing that for many years did she marry at 43, move to Northern British Columbia to set up housekeeping with Herman, and have a baby of her own at 44.

Each fall we make homemade doughnuts using her recipe, and in doing so, we try to keep her memory alive and not just in our heads. In remembering her this fall I can't help but think about how much she would have loved Wyatt.

I miss you Esther.

Sunset over the Olympic Mountains as seen from our deck in September 2011

This old dog has a new trick

2011-09-17T22:44:00.000-07:00

Believe it or not, my dad is now a blogger.

Last week, I helped my dad get started with a blog about his hobby -- cutting gemstones. His new blog lets you keep up on his latest projects, and it also has pages that showcase some of his best work -- examples of the stones he cuts and the lovely jewelry that the stones often end up in. Eventually, he plans to show stones that are available for purchase. You can check out his blog here.

I'm proud of him. For wanting to learn something new. For listening to all those who urged him to get a web presence. For venturing outside his comfort zone and into cyberspace. And for being so good at his hobby of gem cutting that lots of people want to see (and buy) his work.

Go dad!

One of dad's faceted gems

What to do when it's coming out your ears

2011-09-17T22:00:00.000-07:00

We've been overrun with produce lately. I'm not really complaining. It's just what happens around here each summer. Luckily, year after year I seem to find a way to dig out.

Lately I've been contending with zucchini and regretting, a bit, the three hills I planted in our home veggie garden. According to my friend Chelle's dad, half a hill of zucchini is too much. I'm beginning to agree. Zucchini management, which, if you're curious, involves shredding and bagging and freezing a lot of zucchini, takes a lot of time. One of my plants grow a giant squash that, alone, produced nine cups of shreds. (Honestly, I'm not sure if I should be proud of that or shamed by it . . . ) I suppose the upside is I can make my favorite zucchini bread all winter long now.

I'm about a third done with my annual applesauce project of working through 50 pounds of akane apples. A few weeks back I dealt with 15 pounds of pickling cucumbers (it's going to be a pickle-themed Christmas this year). And last week, I also made my first-ever batch of blackberry jam, which yielded six little jars of pure gold. Dad got one for his birthday, but I will not be sharing the rest. FYI.

I bought a 20 pound box of peaches not long ago that I was going also going to jam (we ate our first box that came over the mountains from Walla Walla with friends), but again we ate most of them. Maybe I'll try again next week, assuming I can still get some good peaches at the farmers market and that the applesauce is behind me.

This summer's deluge is also due, in part, to our CSA share, which we've been enjoying for the last 12 weeks -- sadly, just six more weeks to go. I got my bulk share of basil from the farm and had to make pesto for three days straight. Now I find myself peeking into the freezer sometimes just to see the line up of bright green jars.

I use the pesto all year long to dress pasta as a base for spicy white beans and greens -- something we eat often during colder months. Mine is a version of this recipe, using lacinato kale instead of the escarole.

Large-Scale Basil Pesto

1 cup good quality extra virgin olive oil
1/2 cup toasted walnuts
2/3 - 3/4 cup finely shredded Parmigiano Reggiano
1/2 tsp. kosher salt (or more depending on your taste)
2 cloves garlic, peeled
6 - 8 ounces basil leaves and stems, washed and mostly dried
pinch of ascorbic acid (to help it hold its color)

Combine everything but the basil in a food processor and process until well combined. Add the basil in three or four batches, processing until the leaves are chopped small and the mixture is fully combined and emulsified. If not using immediately, store in a jar in the fridge (or freeze it) with a thin layer of olive oil on top to keep the air out.

Makes about three cups.

On Friday, I made all this worse by picking blueberries while visiting my parents in Oregon. Somehow I came home today with 40 pounds of beautiful late season Rabbiteye berries -- Centurions and Powderblues. I'll keep about half of them and share the rest with my sister and friends who haven't had time to pick their own this year.

I'm sure I can think of at least 20 ways to use mine. For starters, it's blueberry buttermilk pancakes for breakfast tomorrow . . .

No pain, no gain

2011-09-04T23:11:00.000-07:00

For Wyatt it was a week of tears and grumpiness and sore gums and lots of nursing. The upshot being that he has new teeth sprouting through his gums, he is longer and a bit skinnier around the middle, and he's acquired some new skills. Byron also insists that Wyatt can now tell his right arm from his left, but I'm not so sure.

I wouldn't say he is crawling exactly, but he has progressed in no time flat from sitting in one place reliably to launching himself forward -- sometimes on all fours and sometimes by pulling up on something. Yesterday we think we saw him move himself forward on hands and knees before collapsing back to earth. But until he gets crawling down, he rolls and pivots and, between the two, can get himself most anywhere.

These days there is much shaking of his toys and he has started jetisoning objects out of the crib. He turns the pages of his board books now. And he is absolutely crazy about opening the doors and flaps in his book-of-the-moment "Where's Spot?" (thanks Dana and Robert!).

I periodically catch him studying things too. Sometimes its his reflection, other times its the zipper on his hoodie. He can sit for what seems like hours and rearrange the wood beads on one of his toys. And of course labels, especially the yellow and white warning labels on strollers and carmseats and sun visors . . . , are the most interesting of all.

Wyatt is also keenly aware of the cat now. He will stop whatever he's doing when he hears Oggy meow and then get a big grin on his face. Much to Oggy's displeasure, Wyatt can launch himself toward the cat, shrinking the space between them considerably more quickly than Oggy is comfortable with. This makes Oggy leave the room, which causes Wyatt to cry, which in turn causes Oggy to run in the opposite direction . . . this cycle repeats itself several times a day.

I know we are enjoying the final days of Wyatt's non-mobile period. I'll miss my mostly-stationary baby when he is gone, but I know that once Wyatt gains the ability to move on his own it will lead to lots of fun and discovery for him -- and for us. In the meantime, we are baby proofing.

Building a garden and a family

2011-08-23T12:16:00.000-07:00

It's debatable whether this summer has been a growing season at all here in the Pacific Northwest. I have little to show for the summer, garden-wise. So far, I've picked three zucchini and four padron peppers. Oh, and there were several half-pints of raspberries. But when I stop and think about it, those aren't the only things this garden has been yielding this season.

The veggie garden in progress. The clump of raspberries (on the left) got transplanted to the bed against the fence.

Putting in the garden was a full-family affair that began with my father-in-law single-handedly digging up the sod under the entire garden footprint. Next, Byron built the garden beds out of untreated 2x4s (yes, we'll have to replace them sooner, but no leaching chemicals in the meantime . . .) and we set them in place. Our paths are roughly three-feet wide, give or take. Byron hauled dozens of wheelbarrows full of dirt around the house to fill the beds, Herman leveled the dirt, and I amended it with a good dose of lime, plus a mixture of cottonseed meal, kelp meal, bone meal, and more lime. I got the beds planted by the end of June. Wyatt came along for the ride.

Me and my garden gnome.

We all like the result. The orderly boxes, straight rows, and leafy plants have made us all feel like we've accomplished something -- together.

The tomatoes had a foliage extravaganza, which, luckily, has turned into a fruit-setting extravaganza. Although all are indeterminate varieties, no fruit has ripen yet. And, I'm suspecting that one roma tomato plant has the dreaded tomato blight . . . yellowing leaves. Argh. The good news is that I've managed to ward off leaf curl and blossom end rot this year (must be all the lime).

A happy padron pepper plant.

Nasturtiums and garlic chives.

We have onions and peppers that seem to be slowly growing, but growing nonetheless. The zucchini, cucumbers, and summer squash plants have suffered a bad case of powdery mildew, but with all the rain and dew I'm not surprised. We have three kinds of string beans growing. Oddly some of the leaves look quite yellow and others are dark green. Not sure if it's the sign of a deficiency of some kind or just the variety of bean. All are blooming and setting beans.

The hubbard squash, which I've never grown before, is growing gangbusters and in three directions. We chose to grow a hubbard since it's one of Herman's favorite varieties. He assured me that it is superior to all other winter squashes when baked. We also put in some corn at the suggestion of Byron's dad, who has always grown it in his gardens in British Columbia. We put in seven corn plants and they tassled and are now filling out with 11 ears. I'm hoping they will develop into more than those tiny ears you put on your salad . . . In any case, we might get a family dinner of corn and tomatoes and squash out of all our efforts. I'm looking forward to it.

The herbs are doing well, and I've managed to successfully grow basil for the first year in a while. (In previous years it would get all woody and die on me).

Beyond that, we have an entire bed of raspberries -- all of which we transplanted mid-season under the supervision of Byron's dad who was the grower of legendary raspberries when he lived in Smithers, B.C. We harvested a couple pickings, but generally the plants have been focused on not dying rather than fruit-making. Hopefully with some pruning and a wet winter, the patch will be wonderful next season.

I must say, too, that the cedar wood chips on the paths look great. With their fresh smell, soft feel underfoot, and clean look, they they might just be my favorite feature in the garden this year.

The view of the veggie garden from the deck above.

We still have some unplanted dirt in one of the side beds, so next week I'm putting in a fall crop of kale. I'll teach Herman what to do with it (he still cooks for himself). Turns out that he hasn't ever eaten it once in his 87 years . . . or so he claims. Once the beans and squash are finished I'll put in favas to overwinter.

Despite the mediocre performance of our plants this season, we've had solid growth in the way we all work together, share ideas, and enjoy the fruits of our labors. Turns out garden building is really family building too. Our beds are built and ready so we can start gardening early next year. By next summer Wyatt will be eating veggies in a form other than a puree, which could impact what we decide to grow. And Herman might have some more ideas about what to grow too. I'm certain potatoes will be high on his list . . . .

The rub

2011-08-17T01:00:00.000-07:00

I find myself pulled in too many directions. Mothering this sweet little boy of mine is my first job, but there are many other jobs around here that need doing, too. I won't list them for you, but aside from the basics of laundry, dishes, meals, cleaning, and bills, there's the two gardens, the father-in-law, a front yard to landscape . . . you get the picture.

Nomatter all the things to start or finish, I find myself drawn into the moment when I'm with Wyatt. It's his rub that stops me -- and by that I mean Wyatt's habit of rubbing everything.

He rubs my side when he nurses. And wakes me in the night to eat by rubbing his feet on my side. When I rock him, he rubs his hand up and down my arm. I catch him tickling his own face with strands of my hair. Then there are the times he reaches out and not-so-gently rubs my face with his fingers when we play together on the floor. When he wants to be goofy while nursing, he rubs his hand against my mouth and then I kiss and nibble on his fingers, which always makes him giggle. These days Wyatt explores all surfaces, people, and objects he can reach by rubbing and scratching them. Oh, and then there's his expert ability to rub his feet together so to rid them of all socks (annoying but clever).

I am grateful to this round, smiley little boy for the way he is teaching me to pay attention, to feel what it is to love, and to be in the moment. Before him, I was always thinking ahead, using the moment to plan for tomorrow or making long to do lists so I wouldn't forget anything.

Now I work away at the things that need doing, but I stop, often, to be with him. Sometimes we play. Other times we nap. We nurse and laugh and sing. Sometimes I just want to hold him. And most days we even get a few chores accomplished: he hangs out in the garden with me and when it comes to folding laundry, he's a big fan of the socks.

I get less done than I used to yet I know my time is more wisely spent. Today his face changed. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. It's all going so fast . . .

Friends in the Olympics

2011-08-16T14:17:00.000-07:00

This weekend we met up with our friends Sam, Debbie, Layla, and Rachel, on the Olympic Peninsula for a beautiful hike at Hurricane Ridge and camping at Lake Crescent. We had a gorgeous day in Olympic National Park -- above the clouds that have lurked over Seattle for most of the summer. Plus, we got to hang out with graduate-school friends we rarely see (they live in San Diego) and talk about books and food and travel and all kinds of interesting things.

It was Wyatt's first hike and camp out and he seemed to really enjoy it. Of course, he is happier outdoors than in, and by all indications he really liked riding in the backpack for the hike. Byron got his workout lugging our 20-plus-pound baby a mile and a half up about 1,000 feet to the top of Hurricane Hill at 5,757 feet elevation. I just had to haul myself, which was work enough. But it was all worth it because from the top we could see Vancouver Island, the Olympic Range, and Mt. Baker and the Cascades. Byron took the panoramic photo, above, of the Olympics. All of us but Wyatt came home with lots of mosquito bites. Go figure.

We joined our friends at their Lake Crescent camp site for the night and enjoyed an evening of good food and conversation. I even got to make s'mores over the campfire. Wy, Byron and I all slept pretty well, and we stayed warm and dry, making it an unqualified success in my book.

Sam, Debbie, Rachel, and Layla

Wy riding in the backpack under his blanket for shade

Alpine lupine and snow-in-the-summer blooming on Hurricane Hill

Wy, staying warm in his smart wool socks, etc.

Tent with a view of the lake

Hanging in the tent

New buddies: Rachel and Wyatt

42 is the answer

2011-08-09T09:06:00.000-07:00

I had a birthday back in July. Some years my birthday seems harder to get through than others. This one wasn't one of those. I'm 42. And as we all know, 42 is the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything. (See Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.) It's also just been a good year for me. This year I'm happy to be who I am. I'm comfortable in my skin. I love the roles I play in the lives of my family, friends, and community. And I really like not working outside our home -- a surprise, I must admit. Happiness seems to make all the difference.

I had a lovely birthday with flowers, friends with babies, a few thoughtful gifts, and pizza at a local spot for dinner with my sister and her beau. Low key and just right.

We managed to keep the celebration going with dinner and homemade cookies a few days later as well, courtesy of Darcy, Ryan, and Arlo. I'm trying to get the recipe. If I do, I'll share.

The wedding of the summer

2011-08-08T23:02:00.000-07:00

Our friends Dawn and Jeremy were married in late July surrounded by their family and close friends at picturesque Triplebrook Farm on Vashon Island. We were privileged to join the festivities and share in their happiness. And they couldn't have ordered a better day from the weather gods. It was a beautiful celebration. We wish them a long and happy walk through life together. Congratulations you two!

Snapshot

2011-07-22T23:35:00.000-07:00

It's been a particularly busy week of disparate activities. Yet somehow, weeks like this one weave themselves together into a rich life -- one that I love. That's why I'm jotting it down. And so I won't forget the parts that make the whole.

A day of immunizations, a new tooth and walks in the neighborhood with an out-of-sorts baby. A day of audiologists and new hearing aids. A day of five baby poops. A day of working in the dirt at my p-patch, cutting a bouquet for my sister, watering the garden, picking raspberries. Laundry. Breakfast with Byron. An afternoon devoted to working on a project I had committed to. An evening and then a morning of meetings for worthy organizations. A visit to my former workplace to stay connected to former colleagues and friends. Laundry. Going to the dentist. A day of sitting without falling over and lots of belly laughs and baby kisses. One glorious two and a half hour morning nap, for both of us. Bills paid. A gray and rainy day, or two. News that a far away friend had a baby. Baths and groceries and loading and unloading the dishwasher. A seven-hour stretch of sleep. Sunny walks around Green Lake and 17 turtles and a heron. Friday lunch with a good friend and a social hour with other moms who are learning to use sign language with their babies. BLTs and corn on the cob.