Birthday Boy

Watching Jack at his third birthday party was such a joy. He was so thrilled by every little thing, from the cake the cards to the Hot Wheels to the books. He seemed to love it all and be genuinely grateful for the food, the company, and the presents. Jack is just such a sweet kid. Why, oh why do they have to grow up so fast?

Giving Thanks

There's always so much to be grateful for, and we don't need a special day to remind us of those things: four healthy kids, enough to eat, a roof over our heads, so many loved ones. We're lucky to get to celebrate most Thanksgivings with James' sister Jill and her husband Bob, and all of their kids and grandchildren. The table in Jill's dining room gets longer every year, and there's still room to grow. They live in a wonderful house right on the Delta, and Claire and Wynham made a brief stop in their whirlwind of play with the cousins to peer into the swirling waters. A big brother taking the time to take his little sister's hand -- I am truly thankful for that sweet, quiet moment...

Squeal of Fortune

Claire was so thrilled to get the easel she's been begging for on the occasion of her sixth birthday, she squealed with delight. Her presentation of the gifts she received would make Vanna White proud. I lamented to my friend Deb that Claire had already gone through an entire roll of paper, in less than 24 hours. She said, "What are materials in the face of creativity?" Claire obviously agrees with that sentiment: this morning when I suggested she go a little easier on the amount of paper she was using, she replied, "What do expect me to do, Mom? Art is my passion; it's my LIFE!" Sigh. Who am I to stand in the way of greatness?

Pot Pie, Oh My!

When I asked James what he wanted for dinner last night and he said, "pot pie," I was only too happy to oblige. Back in June I asked John, one the owners of the wonderful Dipsea Cafe, if he would be willing to divulge the recipe for the Dipsea's fabulous Chicken Pot Pie -- it's really the best I've ever tasted! He was so nice about it: not only did he send me the recipe, he tweaked it to a home-sized portion.

At first I thought I was reading it wrong: the recipe for six pot pies calls for almost a pound-and-a-half of butter. That's nearly a stick of butter per pie! I was beginning to understand why their version tastes so darn good...

I sautéed the leeks, carrots, celery and onion in a pan, and Chloé sifted in the flour as soon as the veggies were soft. After that, we added the chicken stock and watched a gorgeous gravy form -- I love food science! I chopped up chicken to mix in with peas and potatoes, while Chloé drifted off to play romantic melodies on the piano.

Claire jumped into the project at that point -- anything to do with pastry is right up her alley. I have to say, I fail miserably in this arena. Always have. Always will, I'm afraid. But Claire rolled up her sleeves and rolled out the sage-infused crust, and the Chanticleer on top was her own idea, a final flourish.

The pies were beautiful, the filling delicious, but my crust didn't achieve the golden perfection of the ones served at the Dipsea. Sadly, pastry is my downfall. Can anyone out there help me get over this problem? Everyone slurped it up, so it wasn't total failure. And if you're pastry proficient, you can indulge yourself with this recipe, posted on Coco's Kitchen. But I have to tell you: next time I get a craving for chicken pot pie, I'm going to the Dipsea Cafe.

Ethereal Echos

I'm still at a loss for words to honor my grandmother; she was so completely divine in so many ways, and her legacy is so far-reaching. Here is a humble start; just a few memories and photos.

Autumn Leaves

Claire, Jack and I paid a visit to see "Auntie" Laura in the East Bay today, spending about three hours at Tumble & Tea, a great cafe/playroom where adults can have a (relatively) undisturbed conversation while kids bounce off the padded walls. It's a little different from the triple espresso get-togethers Laura and I used to have at Cafe Roma 25 years ago (after French 101 classes at U.C. Berkeley), but we take what we can get. Claire, ever the prowling artist, found some woodgrain contact paper and some sponges and created this tribute to the colors of fall. I love it.

Star Light, Star Bright

Often, when I wake up in the wee hours of the morning and the sky is clear, I'm comforted by the familiar sight of Orion hovering above the western horizon. I know he has something of a bad boy reputation, but I consider him a friend, a confidant. From where I lie, clinging to the last few calm moments of the day, it seems as though he's leaping off the eaves of our roof into the vast black pool of the Pacific Ocean, just beyond the hills of West Marin. Sometimes, I want to go too.

I wonder what he's doing: Is he paying his dad an early morning visit? Is he weary from his constant journey? Is he having any fun? What would Orion say about Intelligent Design? James says I think too much and he's probably right, especially here, in the quiet, in the dark. I savor this complicity with the stars, though, and I know that when the sun cracks the day wide open, I won't have any time to think at all. I'll save the rest of my questions for another night, after Orion's had time to hunt for some answers...

Aged to Perfection

November is a busy month for birthdays amongst our friends and family. Although Karen says she doesn't like birthdays, you'll have to agree that she looks pretty darn good for thirty-nine-again. She requested steak for dinner and cheesecake for dessert, so we pulled out all the stops and made butter-and-cream mashed potatoes and a Cabernet reduction, too. (Wynham is itching to snag the dregs of the wine glass as soon as I'm not looking...) Going out can be good, but staying home can be better!

I Scream for Ice Cream

The recent spate of record-breaking high temperature days was the perfect excuse for a stop at our local ice cream spot for a refreshing scoop. Jack's usually a vanilla purist, but he went wild with a chocolate/vanilla frozen yogurt swirl, and judging from his expression, I'd say he was pleased with his choice...

Summa Cum Kitty

I tell you, nothing in my lengthy university career prepared me for the intellectual requirements of my current life. Knowing that it's for the aide and benefit of first grade math studies brings some honor to the task, but do you have any idea how challenging it is to draw a kitty face on a lima bean? Just try it, I dare you.

Meet Mr. Gingrich

We encountered this charming little newt on a recent stroll around Lake Lagunitas. He seemed very sleepy, but he was cordial nonetheless. Claire and Jack wanted to bring him back to our house, but we explained that he probably needed to get home for dinner...

Arty Party

Claire's early birthday party happened over the weekend, and of all the partys we've thrown for all the kids, this one was probably the biggest hit. There were eight little girls who spent a couple of hours at Art Start doing fabulous art projects -- sculpting, painting, glitter and glue. They were so wrapped up in what they were doing, it was hard to get them to stop at the end of the afternoon to have a cupcake and head home! See the rest of the photos here.

The Red Phone

On Veterans Day, my Grandfather was asked to speak about his experience as a career officer, and to tell a story of particular importance during that time -- something that marked his life in the military. This is what he related.

In 1963-64, during the Cold War, Grandfather (a Colonel in the U.S. Army) held the post of Commanding Officer of the 69th Air Defense Group. He was responsible for six HAWK missile battalions (about 3500 troops) in the NATO air defense belt covering a large part of Western Germany. Those missiles were pointed at Russia, so as you can imagine, the situation was tense.

His duties required a Red Phone, that ubiquitous symbol of power and fear, firmly planted on his nightstand (If the Russians started any funny business, Grandfather needed to be among the first to know). His boots were by the bed, and if the Red Phone rang, my grandmother was supposed to get my then-13-yr-old uncle in the car and hightail it to Italy. The gas tank was never supposed to be less than half full, and the bags were always packed.

His Red Phone was regularly tested, but it only rang for real one time, in the middle of the night. The call was from Cheyenne Mountain and the voice at the other end of the line belonged to an Air Force General with NORAD, so obviously, it was a matter of international importance. That General was my Granddad, and he had called to tell my Grandfather the news of my birth in Colorado Springs!

Now, that's a war story I can love.

(when Grandfather told me this story the other day, it reminded

me of another Red Phone story I saw in Smithsonian magazine,

entitled My Cold War Hang-Up. It's pretty funny,too.)

Back In the Blogosphere

Yup, tempus does fugit -- at warp speed, it seems. But I'm nearly back to normal, whatever that is. Here's a quick nod to the last couple of months in pictures...

Just after the start of school, the kids enjoyed a warm but windy ferry ride over to the city to meet Daddy for dinner. The gusts nearly knocked Jack off his feet!

In early September, we finally got notice from our contractor that he could come in and repaint/recarpet the whole house. We had about ten days to basically completely move out, and the TO DO list was understandably long...

Pease Porridge Tot: With all the toys in the house packed away, the kids were reduced to playing with empty instant oatmeal packets (James' clever idea). I especially love Claire's Picasso-esque faces.

Chloé gets a job! As soon as she was eligible for her Driver's Learning Permit, she decided she better earn some money to buy a car. She started as a bagger and has already been promoted to cashier.

Barely has school started, it seems, than the kids have a day off from classes. We flee the hotel where we're living for a few weeks and head to Point Reyes. There are several hundred steps down to this lighthouse, and even more coming back (!).

My beautiful, amazing grandmother, Gigi, passes away peacefully in her sleep on September 25th. I miss her so much, it feels like a light went out in my soul.

My elegant Grandmom, Mona, came to California for a visit and we celebrated her 88th birthday at a mini-reunion down in Santa Cruz.

October 12th: Angel Island, site of James' annual 4th-of-July camping trip, goes up in flames. We've moved back home and can see the great clouds of smoke from our house. Half the island burns, but none of the historic structures.

October 14th: What would have been my mother's 65th birthday.

I miss her, too.

My Grandfather (sitting next to me) turned 90 on October 23rd, and we threw him a surprise party with nearly fifty people at one of his favorite spots, Gibson's BBQ ("Too Much Pork for Just One Fork").

While back in Alabama, I had the happy chance to meet up with my own First Grade teacher, Mrs. Brown. She's still one of my personal heros to this day.

I missed Halloween all together, but the trip to the pumpkin patch was a huge success this year. James got into the spirit of things (and in costume) and took the kids out for two rounds of trick-or-treating! We're only about a third of the way through eating the sugary haul they brought home.

I was home just in time to vote in this historical election. Even though James and I both have permanent absentee status, he says he likes to go and get the sticker, so I proudly displayed mine, too.

Bloggin' Blues

I got the bloggin' blues, now, baby,

Ain't had time to write;
Thinkin' 'bout all the posts I done missed,
Well, it keeps me up at night.

I got the bloggin' blues, now, baby;
Oooooooooo, I got the bloggin' blues.

The tragedies and triumphs,
The plight o' the human race;
I'd write my bloomin' heart out,
But my young'uns set the pace.

I got the bloggin' blues, now, baby;
Yeeaaaaaah, I got the bloggin' blues...