Pocket Aces

Fat Tuesday

Thinking about New Orleans today. Yes, because it's Mardi Gras, but also because I've been reading some books on this gorgeous city lately, and have made a few ill-fated attempts at a trip down there.

Did you know that after your Bananas Foster during Breakfast at Brennans, you can go out to their courtyard (everyone in the Quarter has a courtyard. I want a courtyard.) and visit their turtle family?

 

It's possible that their brother was in the turtle soup. Don't tell them. And yes, I am talking about flaming alcohol and fruit (but mostly alcohol) for breakfast. 

 

Wrought iron balconies are everywhere. I want one of those, too.

 

And little cherubs peek out at you from all sorts of places.

It's hard to describe New Orleans. It's such a dirty, beautiful, romantic city. Anything that can capture your imagination can be found there.

 

History. More history than you can wrap your head around.

 

Tiny old bookstores with chairs to get comfy in and tall, tall stacks of books all around you.

 

Food.

   

The unapologetically seedy side. (At a bargain, even!)

 

Liquor.

 

Pirates.

 

And after all that carousing, you'll be pleased to find that New Orleans takes it's religion, and it's churches, very seriously.

Also, of course, music. But I don't have any pictures of that.

Next time we go down, here's what we'll do:

 

Wander around Jackson Square with the people and the music and the pigeons. Look off to the right there, where I might see a piece of art that's perfect for Mason's bedroom.

 

Get ourselves some go cups and become part of the entertainment. That's never been difficult for us.

 

Find a bar and lose focus. Also, eat some really amazing garlic oysters.

Happy Fat Tuesday. Laissez les bon temps rouler!

(Photos from September 2007)

Two.

Dear Mason,

Yesterday, you turned two. And suddenly, right before my eyes, you grew up. Gone is the baby who needed to be in a stroller, and in her place is a little girl who runs holding hands with her brother. You got a brand new potty for your birthday that you are already excited about sitting on, and though you still sleep in a crib, you don't need to anymore. A big girl bed is in the works.

As should be expected, I'm both happy and sad at this development. I cheer your independence, love that you are determined to do anything your brother does - only better. I love that you ask me (ask me!) for more juice in the morning, and that you're learning how to play hide and seek. I love that, even though I am hardly a morning person, you never fail to make me smile with your cheery play when you wake up. I love that, after waking, the first thing you want to do is go find your brother and play. I love that when I put you down to bed at night, after a requisite snuggle and book in the rocking chair, you lay down in your crib and turn over and - all by yourself - close your eyes and lay quietly till you fall asleep. I didn't know such a thing was possible, until you.

But there are things I'll miss. It's very likely you are our last baby, and these days I find myself a little sad looking at clothes you've outgrown. Toys you're done playing with. Sippy cups abandoned for bendy straws.

Enough of that - this letter isn't really about me. It's about you, and how I never want to forget that right now you are a beautiful, energetic little angel who loves Mickey Mouse and the Backyardigans and coloring with crayons and eating yogurt with your very own spoon and your Lambie and climbing on all the furniture in the house and shoving all the wooden food into your toy microwave until the door won't close and dancing with your brother and your daddy and your mommy. And french fries. Oh, how you love french fries.

I may not be much at predicting the future, but I'm willing to go out on a limb and say that while some of the things you love will change, those french fries are probably here to stay. So are your mommy, daddy, and brother. We all love you very much.

Happy Birthday, Mason Angelina.

Love, Mommy

Oh! (Or, I am a lying liar that lies.*)

SNOW!!

 

Words cannot fully express how happy I am to get some snow this year. It's not much, but I'll take it.

 

 

I loaded the kids in the car and we went to the store. Needed chili supplies. And sleds.

I really, really miss snow. We get maybe one storm a year here, on average. I miss driving in the snow. I LOVE driving in the snow. Being from Colorado, I possess a fair amount of skill in it - not that I am better than other people who know how to drive in the snow - just that I don't have a problem saying that I'm better than most people in Maryland. There's something about it that makes me really miss driving a stick shift. It makes me want to get stuck, and then get myself out. Second gear, reverse. Second gear, reverse. Keep going, slowly, till you roll out. I really miss that. Driving an automatic has its perks, no doubt, but it's also drained some of the lifeblood out of driving. I really can't explain that one.

Side note: Marc is a wonderful human being, but without realizing it, can get a bit sexist on me in regards to driving in the snow. He'll pull that, "No, I should drive." And while I respect the courtesy in that, it also makes me enjoy reminding him of the time, years ago, when we were driving down from Winter Park. It had been snowing all night, all weekend probably, and was still snowing the following morning when we set out. It was going to be rough over the pass, and until we hit 70. I offered to drive - he gallantly refused.

Somewhere on the way down, on the tiny 2-lane road that is Highway 40, he pulled to the side and asked me to take over. Marc may jump in and deny this in the comments, as he often insists I remember things wrong. But not this one, sweetie. This is not a knock on you - you are an excellent driver, exceeding me and many others in myriad ways. Just not that day. Not in that weather.

*********************************************************************************************************************

A snow day here is a great time to run errands, because nobody else is out. And the world is just so much prettier with snow all over it, don't you think?

 

Mason agrees.

 

Riley was about to agree, but was distracted by the UPS man. Rain or shine, indeed!

And my feet (and red scarf!) make it unanimous. Hooray for snow!

*My misinformation campaign worked, it seems. I knew as soon as I publicly announced I'm taking a break from the blog, I'd have things to say. Victory is mine!

We fly 1700 miles to go bowling.

What we did today:

 

 

 

 

Gotta work off the gravy somehow.

Hope everybody had a wonderful holiday. Life's good here in Boulder.

All the leaves are brown.

We don't get a lot of leaves in the fall, which is plenty fine by me. I've lived on a tree-covered lot before, and I loved it except for the three straight weeks I'd spend cleaning leaves.

Here? Only a few leaves. But enough for jumping. Wanna see?

 

Riley's learning to do his share of the work. Only fair, since he'll get all the fun later.

 

"What, me help? Hmmm. Let me think about it."

 

"Yeah, I don't think so. Other things are requiring my attention."

 

"Like having the trampoline all to myself."

 

"And practicing my best poses. Am I doing it right, Mommy?"

 

Back in the front yard, things have progressed nicely. See that tidy pile of leaves? Yeah. I can totally deal with that. Just enough for some jumping, then it's gone. Can I get a Hallelujah?

 

Hallelujah!

 

The jumping commences. Neighbor kids join us, because we so totally rock, dude.

 

Sweeet.

 

We try to get Mason in the game, but she's not digging the leaves yet. This was the photo before the one where she's crying. Oh well, next year.

 

Yeah, Riley, better check out those leaves before they're gone. Won't be long, now. Daddy's gone to get the lawnmower.

 

One more jump? Well, ok then. It DOES totally rock.

Now, bring on the snow. I'm ready.

And now, on to more serious topics.

Like the naked monkey infestation that has taken over my shower:

 

Seriously, where did these monkeys come from? And how is a girl supposed to get clean around here when they're always in her shower? AND ARE THEY USING MY EXPENSIVE SHAMPOO???

Not cool, monkeys. Someday, someway, I'll get you back for this.

Fried food makes the people come together.

I've always read about the Tuscan tradition of eating squash blossoms, but had never come across any to try. Until, that is, I found a bunch in the pumpkin patch. After checking with the owner (who hadn't heard of fried squash blossoms, and therefore did not know of the wonderful bounty right there in his pumpkin patch), I made off with a bagful.

 

Egg wash, light flour and parmesan cheese batter. A little kosher salt. Lovely.

 

Make sure and save a handful of parmesan for sprinkling. You MUST sprinkle.

 

If this isn't a unifier, I don't know what is. Maybe I'll write it in on the ballot. You know, I can fiercely argue politics and still want to give the person I'm arguing with a hug when I'm done, provided I liked that person to begin with. But if this is too fried, too decadent, too weird for you? Well. I'm not sure we can ever truly understand one another.

Goodbye summer, Part II

As previously stated, here's Ocean City, MD - mid August.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And much like these photos of children running at dusk, it was all a blur. A really fun, really noisy, often sticky with ice cream running down your chin type of blur. See ya next year, Summer.

Goodbye, summer.

**Edited to clarify any photographic images that may or may not be me.**

Fall is officially here, and I'm starting to collect the photos to prove it. Before I can post any of them, however, I have to finish off summer. I'm gonna go chronologically, and probably won't work all my faves into one post.

First, let's finish off Vero Beach, FL - end of July.

 

Her first pigtails! It was a very big deal. I'm pretty sure that means college starts next week. Also, despite there being a visible foot in the shot, this is not me. It's my sister.

 

Also my sister.

 

Hey! This one IS me! Don't say I never show off for y'all!

 

None of those people are me.

 

Still not me.

 

Try and think really hard about this one. "Let's see... there are feet, so it might be her. But there is leg, which I doubt she'd show, since she's obviously a big scaredy-ass."

Answer? Yeah. It's me. Look at me getting brave with the ankle baring.

 

Though I have been topless on a beach in the past, this one's not me.

 

 

 

These last three? Not me. They're my sister. She's pretty and everything, but I discovered she doesn't take fantastic low-light beach photos. (Sorry, Jill.) So apparently, I DO have to do everything around here.

 

I'm very, very tempted to say this is me, if only it could get me out of having to ever post a photo of myself. What do you think? Would you fall for it?

Up next - Ocean City, MD.

I'm just looking out for the kid.

 

If I don't get a hole-in-one soon, I'm going to shoot somebody with my "laser".

Last night, as Riley and Mason are jumping together on the trampoline (I have been exiled to the steps), and Riley continually tries to roughhouse with his sister:

Riley: :::pushes Mason down, cackles with toddler glee:::

Mason: NO! No, no, no.

Mommy: RILEY! Don't you push your sister!

Riley: Don't push Mason!

Mommy:  That's right. No pushing. Also, no hitting and no kicking.

Riley: And no biting!

Mommy: (impressed) Yes, that's right. Don't you bite.

Riley: Or baby will be SO sad.

Mommy:  Yes. Also, she will kick your ass. Be warned. 

Wouldn't you like to know my favorite song this week? Here it is: