The best kind of parenting

I slept in this morning 2 hours past normal waking time (till 8 a.m., people!). Col took Amelia for the first shift. (It's becoming a lovely Sunday morning routine.) I woke up refreshed and feeling mentally clean. Well, as clean as a groggy mind can feel at 8 a.m. on a Sunday morning. This statement of freshness did not prevent me from uttering a parenting criticism with the first morning breath.

"You fed her peas for breakfast?!"

"I fed her whatever that green stuff was in the fridge."

"It was peas. Why didn't you feed her fruit or oatmeal or something more breakfast-y?"

"It was the only thing in there." (Note to self: if I really do want to control everything that passes through baby's lips, must. leave. in. plain. sight. in. fridge.)

"Well, did she eat it?"

"Yup, all of it," he said proudly.

"Well, I guess it's ok to give her something savory for breakfast. We eat savory breakfasts sometimes right?" In retrospect I don't know why I cared so much. It's so silly. Why am I such a control freak when it comes to parenting? Is it because I'm the mom? Are all moms like that? Or just first-time moms? Or is it just me? 

Thankfully, I have a husband with pretty thick skin and a sense of humor. He didn't seem to mind my snarkiness.

Which leads me to my next awesome announcement of the morning: after that exchange, I put A down for a nap and went running (in my 5-yr-old running shoes that have been worn a total of maybe 15 times). It felt good. I felt strong. 

I used my run (as I always used to do) for the quiet introspection I've been looking for. It worked. It works every time. I thought about my goals and about my life and about my loves (Col and Meals) and family. I let lots of things go. That felt really good. I focused on breathing. I killed those hills. All of them. I added on an extra loop. I felt that good.

Towards the end of my run, I passed a little scene that humbled me a bit. It was a couple of young women (in their early 20s I'd say) getting in a car with a young child. One of the women looked like she had had way too much fun last night. Her voice was all raspy from too much smoking and partying. 

She yelled out to the boy, laughing, "Hey Ry, do you need some Dunkin' Donuts right now? Cause I definitely need some Dunkin' Donuts right now." He laughed back. I bet he was soooo excited to go to Dunkin' Donuts. And in that moment, I realized that this boy was happy. Even though he was being taken care of by women (mom? sisters? sitters?) who were probably not leading the best life examples, he seemed loved (from the 15 second exchange I witnessed) and he was laughing. Isn't that all that matters?

I thought to myself, "love and laughter—those are the two most important parenting skills." The love part I've got down. The laughter, which Colin always has in spades, I need to work on. Constantly. If only I didn't get so caught up with peas and oatmeal.

As the two women peeled away towards Dunkin' Donuts with the boy in the back-seat, they each flung their arms out the open windows in contentment, lit cigarettes in hand. That bummed me out and snapped me out of my rose-colored view on life.

Ok, so maybe the "love and laughter" thing is a little too simplistic. But minus the cigs and feeding second-hand smoke to a tyke, it was a sweet interaction that taught me a lesson.

And now I need to go apologize to my hubby and tell him I love him. He got Meals to eat her peas at 6 in the morning. How great is that?

homemade baby food for our little gourmande

We were a little slow on the uptake starting Meals on solid foods. She was almost 7 months by the time we got around to it, so we sort of skipped right over the baby cereal and right on to the real stuff. So far, our little baby (and this makes her mama so proud) loves any kind of healthy, delicious food we've thrown her way. Favorites so far include:

• Fruit compote with peaches, raspberries and banana
• Baked sweet potato and pears
• Roasted carrots and broccoli with cumin
• Sweet pea puree with fresh basil

Mmm, those sweet peas were so good I wanted to eat them myself! I have found that the trick is in the cooking. Roasting the carrots and broccoli brings out their amazing flavor. The sweet potato gets all caramelized when you bake it just a little bit longer. The peas (I use frozen) are only steamed long enough to turn bright green. They they're rinsed in cold water to stop the cooking. We've been having so much fun trying new combos and seeing her reaction. It's making me excited to cook again! And maybe, just maybe, I'll finally hit up the farmers' market this weekend.

solid (wood) foods

So far, we've tried: Pears? Check. Bananas? Check. Hunk of table? Why not!

homemade date rolls

I've been buying these amazing coconut date rolls at the grocery store, but they are super-expensive ($6 for 6 of them!). Why do they cost so much? They're just dates and coconut. But I've been willing to spend the money because they are so good and they're something healthy to snack on. (I didn't realize how obsessed I could be about healthy-satisfying-snacks-that-you-can-hold-with-one-hand until I started nursing. When that kind of deep hunger strikes, carrots sticks just won't do!)

But these date rolls are breaking the bank. I decided to try and make them myself at home and see if that would be any cheaper. Turns out they are much cheaper and they are super-easy to make too. I just made a batch with Amelia in the sling. (She watched the whole thing and her favorite part was when I turned on the food processor. What a great white noise!)

Here's the recipe I made up. It's probably not exact, but you get the idea. Next time, I'll probably experiment with different nuts and flavors (pistachios and rose water? yum!) but the walnuts are pretty dang good. (It's important to use fresh dates in this recipe, not dried. My grocery store stocks them in the produce section.)

Homemade Coconut Date Rolls

10 fresh Medjool dates, pits removed
1 1/3 cup shredded coconut, plus more for coating
1/3 cup raw walnuts
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon orange flower water (or another flavoring of your choice)

Put all of the ingredients into a food processor and process for several minutes until the mixture forms a thick, smooth paste. It will be sticky. Portion out a generous tablespoon of the paste and with your hands, roll it into a ball. Dip the ball into some of the coconut and roll it around to coat. You can keep it as a ball or roll into a log like I did. Repeat with the rest of the mixture.

Makes about 1 dozen rolls.

papa papaya

Colin is working from home today, which meant we both lingered in bed a little longer this morning. He was happy to hold Amelia, while I went into the kitchen to make us coffee and breakfast. I've been ripening a papaya on the counter all week and it finally looked ready (which means it looked and smelled rotten on the outside!).

I look forward to simple kitchen rituals, which I'm quickly learning are few and far between with a newborn on my hands. I relished cutting into the stinky fruit to reveal the honey-tasting orange flesh inside. Perfect! I scooped out the black jelly seeds from the center, peeled off the mottled yellow skin,  cut up the insides into irregular little squares and tossed them into a pretty bowl. Usually I squeeze lime juice on it to bring out the flavors, but we had none in the fridge, so I used lemon juice instead. It still tasted wonderful.

Papayas always remind me of Papa Roger, my grandfather. He was master of knowing exactly how long to ripen them on the counter. Papaya prepared by Papa Roger always tasted good. Come to think of it, he was master of cantaloups too. And avocados.

I don't often buy papayas, but have started the custom of having a ripe papaya on the counter for Christmas breakfast. Just because we're with family and it's nice to honor passed loved ones when we're all together.

This year, I bought the papaya the day before I went into labor with Amelia. One week later the fruit was perfecty ripe. When we cut it up for our Christmas fruit salad, I thought to myself, that papaya has been in this house longer than our baby!

Like I said, I look forward these simple kitchen rituals. It's not really about the papaya, is it? It's about cutting into a piece of fruit, which inspires me to write these words, inspires me to remember my grandfather, inspires me to note a moment in time when our new baby was just one week old—about how long it takes for a just-okay supermarket papaya to ripen into a wonderful little morning treat with my coffee, while Papa gets his quiet time with our little daughter.

springish pasties

The kind of spring we've had this week—the cold drizzle and whipping wind, the smell of damp earth, the robin redbreast hopping about the mud puddles—reminds me of England. In particular, it reminds me of a walk along a certain Dorset footpath and through the wild windswept pastures of Worth Matravers, which slope down to the sea in a disquieting fashion.

It was after (or before? I can't quite remember) that walk, we stopped by the local pub for some of what our Uncle Richard told us were the best Cornish pasties and cider around. They certainly were. It was on that day that many traditions unfolded, not the least of which our famed Butterboots. I often think upon that day with such fondness and nostalgia. I would love to go back... But in the meantime, here is the Cornish pasty recipe that I tried to recreate with mixed success and which I'm thinking of trying again for a pasties & cyder night very soon.

some cheese please! (argentina style)

These days, Mondays have been living up to their sour reputation. I don't know if it is the chaos at work, the shift in weather, the dry air and itchy skin. Or if it's my attitude or other people's attitudes. Or maybe all of the above. Today, on the drive to work, the pledge drive on VPR didn't help. I love VPR; I'm a sustaining member. Heck, I even listen to the pledge drives out of solidarity. But on some days, when I'm already feeling cranky, little quips about artist mugs and "today is the day" really rub me the wrong way.

(At this point, if he were here, Col would be saying, "do you want some cheese with that whine?" and I would say, "yes please!!!")

On days like today, my defense mechanism is to be as mechanical as possible, to try to be professional (even if I don't feel like it), to sit through meetings, get my work done, and leave when I've accomplished what I need to. But that takes a lot of discipline. By 4 pm, I had already hit an emotional brick wall. By 6pm, I was delirious. "Can't wait... for... couch..." The drive home was tolerable though and the 6pm crew was well on their way to making their $10,000 goal by 7. Go public radio!

But I had barely walked in the door and still had my coat on when I got a text from my sister Hannah, "do you want to grab dinner @ duino?"

Omg, are you serious? I wanted to lay on the couch and stay there all night and be anti-social. But I rarely see my sister, and I meet her for dinner even less than that. And I've really been wanting to go back to Duino Duende. Not for the amazing tostones—as amazing as they are—but for Argentina night. Hannah's friend Richard has been doing an Argentinian themed menu on Sunday and Monday nights for the month of October and I have yet to check it out.

After ordering a huge mug of mulled cider for each of us, we started with a grilled provolone cheese that was drizzled with honey and had little slivered apples and a few arugula leaves sprinkled throughout. Maybe some fresh thyme as well if I remember right? There were some pieces of baguette underneath it all. It was very simple; very delicious. It sort of reminded me of my favorite salad that I get at Trattoria Delia sometimes that is grilled mozzarella atop arugula and grilled eggplant and zucchini. Only this was much cheesier. And gooey-er.

Then we ordered and shared two main dishes: one was a handmade squash and sweet potato gnocchi with a roasted green pepper and tomato sauce. It had a light smoky charcoal flavor that was very lovely—not too much, not too little. The gnocchi was very tender, like little pillows of fluff that just melted in your mouth.

The other dish was a flatbread made with lots of yummy caramelized onions and other fall veggies. Lots more gooey cheeeeeese. And each slice was topped with a triangle of traditional flat bread made from chickpea flour. I think it's called fainá. That dish was my favorite. It had a slightly floral herbacious undertone—I think maybe it was fresh oregano? Lovely.

Then dessert was was traditional cake made with cornmeal, then topped with dulce de leche and toasted coconut. It had this crazy anise flavor, too, which, together with the corn cake, was just very new and exciting.

Somewhere in between all this, Hannah and I decided to start a writing club. And she reminded me that I have a humidifier (yay) and I should start using it tonight and it will solve all my problems.

And there. See? I feel so much better now. That was definitely worth scraping up the energy to leave the house instead of indulging my bad 'tude. Good food and good company really does nourish the soul. If you think about it, the Monday night special thing really is genius. It gives us something to look forward to!

So, I think next weekend is the last weekend for the Argentina menu, but maybe Richard will be doing some more special nights featuring another country's cuisine? I'm not sure.

back to the berry farm

Bluebug season is in full swing, so we went back to the berry farm bright and early this morning before the clouds burned off to pick a few pounds. We went with Emi, Kevin and Sapphie. Our friend Mindy is staying with them for the weekend and she came too. Then we met up with Michelle and G-boy when when we got there. It was a fun little party!

The blueberries were so prolific that all you had to do was cup your hand under a bunch, jiggle your fingers a bit and catch the harvest that tumbled down. Colin developed his own technique for this and gave me a lesson. We picked 8 pounds in less than an hour.

When the parents were cashing out, I hung out with kiddos by the Imagine boat. Then we all booked it back to Burlington to hit up the Farmer's Market and get to the Plum Lady before she sold out. It was actually the Plum Man this time. And his son whose job it is to cut off bits of plum for people to sample. I always take a bite even though I know I'm going to get some. Some of them are still a little tart, but soo0 good...

a dinner to help heal

We all have our ways of taking care of people we love. For me, it's cooking for them. It's the ultimate form of nourishment—for the body AND spirit. So when I found out my girlfriend was going through a rough time, I decided to host a little dinner party with her and another girlfriend to get her mind of things.

So tonight, my friends are coming over for dinner at 7:30. (Colin's now in London with Mark lucky goose). I'm making homemade sweet potato ravioli with sage and brown butter sauce (that's Lauren's amazing recipe!) and my absolute favorite EatingWell salad recipe, a spinach salad with warm maple dressing (I add an apple for good luck and use Shelburne Smoked cheddar cheese). And for dessert, I'm considering breaking out my torch for some creme brulee. Sounds good huh?

The nice thing about cooking for other people is that the cook gets to enjoy it too. :-)

favorite fall weekend in pictures

Here are some pics from My Favorite Fall Weekend II.

Brunchies at Shelburne farms:

Shelburne Farms:

Apples, apples everywhere:

Blushing apples:

Juicy apples:

Our apple harvest:

Apple betty, mmmm!

A turning tree:

apples, apples everywhere

This weekend was one of those iconic fall weekends: beautiful crisp blue sky, foliage just starting to turn and apples, apples everywhere. Some would say, "Oh, isn't that nice" and "just be careful you don't get run over by them leaf peepers." But as twee as these Vermont country days do get, I never tire of them. A day in the apple orchard on a Sunday afternoon can make the most sinister being a believer in the Glad Game. Don't we all have nostalgia for our childhood—be it one we had or on we wish we had?

Well, Col and I decided to make a tradition of My Favorite Fall Weekend. This is the 2nd year to do it. The weekend falls sometime in October when the leaves are just starting to turn. This year seems a little late for foliage. Or am I dreaming? Anywho, My Favorite Fall Weekend starts with brunch at Shelburne Farms. I get a mimosa & veggies with my eggs Benedict. Col invariably gets the Bloody Mary and extra ham. (This time, he surprised me however, and dunked the two green olives from his garnish into his drink! Col doesn't like olives, you see, and usually lets me eat them.)

After brunch, we strolled the grounds for a bit. Then we sat in the Adirondack chairs and soaked up some sun.

Then we hopped in the car and headed for Shelburne Orchards.

Picking apples is much quicker than picking berries. The bag always fills up way too quickly it seems. We always say next year, we'll make a day of it and bring a picnic. But I prefer the brunch, truly.

We picked half a bushel of empires, macs and mutsu in less than a half hour. Then we went to the orchard store and bought cider, a healthy helping of Apple Betty with vanilla ice cream and a half dozen apple cider donuts. (I happen to believe that Shelburne Orchards makes the best cider donuts around, hands down. Apparently Au Lait thinks so too. She found them sitting out on the counter and nibbled a good chunk, before we could save the rest.)

Family dinner last night was all about the apples: I made a green salad with toasted almonds, chopped apples and a curry vinaigrette. Emi made an amazing mac & cheese with apples and squash mixed in. Hannah made a crumble with fresh apples and rhubarb from the freezer. Holy cow, was that meal amazing!

I've got pics and will post a few when I have more time.

xxx

sunday night dinner

We've started doing a family dinner on Sunday nights. It's a great way to end the weekend and start the week. And it's always pretty low stress because it's just family. Sometimes "family" is invited too. Usually we go to Emi & Kev's. There's even a ritual to it. Colin brings his frisbee so he and Kev can go play out back with the dogs. The aunties dance and play with Sapphie till her bedtime, then once the babe's asleep, we adults all sit down to a lovely dinner together.

Tonight, we had Family Dinner at our place for a change. It was good because I was in the mood for lots of chopping and Colin was in the mood for lots of vacuuming. I made: green salad, potato salad (tried out a new recipe, per Col, and he really likes this one—using Bubbies Bread & Butter pickles is key!) and grilled pizza with summer veggies. Emi & Kevin brought corn on the cob so we threw that on the grill too.

Oh, and for dessert, I made mint chocolate chip ice cream. I tried a different recipe that's all cream (no milk at all) and it was pretty fantastic, but I probably wouldn't do it again. Too rich! I served it our little espresso cups with fresh blueberries on the side. I wish I had've taken a picture cause it was so pretty. Oh well.

Looking back, it actually sounds like quite a production, but would you believe that just chop, chop, chopping away is the most relaxing thing in the world for me? I don't know who or where I get that from. I could just chop and mix all day.

And now the ice cream maker has officially made its debut this year (a little late, but just in time to make the most of all that fresh summer fruit).

the eater

When Colin's away for weeks on work trip, it seems I'm never lacking for company—or things to do. Just this past week, I had four dinner invitations. Sunday was a Mother's Day dinner with the family at the Bearded Frog, Monday was dinner with the girls at Elisa's, Tuesday was me myself and the Housewives of NYC, Wednesday was a fantastic Moroccan meal at Vanessa's and tonight I went over to hang with the sis & fam.

I think I take it for granted sometimes, all this good food and good company. I am taken care of.

Do you realize that when you offer a meal to someone, it's absolutely the best gift in the world? When you nourish a person you give them so much more than physical sustenance—though that in itself is a noble gift indeed. When you feed a person you nourish their spirit and their sense of self-worth. You keep them healthy. You make them feel cherished. The table sphere is a safe place where amid the candle glow and the dinner din grows family and community. There is much joy in that kind of gift—joy to be given and joy to be received.

I can't wait to return the favor.

29

That is my number now. I'm totally cool with it. I like how it feels. Not so hyped up as birthdays past, but real and genuine and reliable. Maybe that's why yesterday was so great. I didn't hype it up, I didn't have unruly expectations. But Colin and I both took the day off work and that in itself was amazing.

We slept in (till 10!)—that never ever happens. We drank coffee in bed. We got up slowly and got ready to go into town. It was sunny and in the 60s—that also never happens on my birthday. My parents had arrived in town and we met for lunch at Magnolia, our new favorite brunch/lunch spot. Kevin and Sapphire joined us too (Emi was working).

My birthday lunch: coconut oatmeal pancakes with maple syrup and homemade strawberry jam and my first iced coffee of the season. Oh boy, it was good! I can't remember what everybody else got but they all enjoyed it. Sapphie was very well behaved and in very good spirits. She let us all hold her and pass her around and just kept giggling and cooing like a good little girl! Mummy and Colin were trying to stick spoons on their noses. Mummy finally got it. Then I said, "Mummy, What would Granny say to this behavior?" And she put her spoon down.




After lunch, we walked around a bit and did some shopping. Then we went home to rest up for dinner at our favorite Trattoria Delia. Mummy and Papa treated us all to a lovely birthday dinner there. I got what I always get: wood-grilled smoked mozzarella on a bed of arugula, grilled tomatoes, eggplant and zucchini. Then for dinner the orecchiette with fried tomato sauce. Nobody got dessert—we were all so full! But we did finish off with some espressos and cappuccinos. Em and Kev gave me a birthday present: an adorable little jersey dress with bell sleeves and a funky peacock print on the front. I think I might wear it tonight! More on that later... Here are some pictures from dinner. You wouldn't know it from the pics, but Colin and Sapphire were there too. Col was behind the camera and Sapphie was sleeping like the little angel she is in her carrier.






Now it's Saturday (love long weekends!) and we're getting ready to go to the farmers' market. Then Col and I are heading out of town for a romantic getaway—first to dinner at the Simon Pearce restaurant in Queechee, then for an overnight stay at the Woodstock Inn. What a lucky girl I am!

a chili day, not chilly

Poopy left today. I was sad to see her go. What a ray of sunshine that gal is. Don't ask me where I've been for the last week and a half. I've been with HER! And the whole fam. It's been really, really nice.

So I was already kind of bummed about her leaving.

And then, luck of the draw, it was raining on the way home from work. Raining! Couple days ago, it was 15 degrees. The rain was hitting the cold snow, which caused thick snakes of fog to envelope the road, making it impossible to see. I felt like I was in one of those movies from 60s, manically driving a big heavy car, clutching the steering wheel with white knuckles, windshield wipers flinging from side to side, flinging water into the darkness. I was tense, couldn't see a thing, and the headlights from the oncoming traffic almost threw me off the road.

Well, I finally made it home alright. It was the first night in a while that it was just me and Col. Do you know what that little bugger did? He cooked me chili. An EatingWell chili with three kinds of beans! God knows how much that boy likes his meat, but he made me a vegetarian chili from scratch and even put tomatoes in it—just for me, because he knows I love them. Col hates tomatoes. The chili turned out so well. So delicious! I whipped up a quick cornbread. And we ate the fine meal in front of the T.V. watching Mad Men on DVD.

What a guy. What a night. Miss you already, Sisthowr.

I love those girls

You know how sometimes when you have a thought—you're reading a book or watching a commercial—and you have a thought. And then everything from thereon in seems to concur with that thought?

Like, for example, you see something about penguins and it makes you think about relationships. And then the next day, you're walking to work and you see a stuffed penguin in the window of the toy shop and then there's a poster for the Penguin Plunge on the place where they post posters. And then, and then... you feel like you should do the penguin plunge out of principle. Or maybe you should just work on your relationship. In any case. The world is trying to send you a message. Right?

Or it's like with my friend Elisa. Ever since we read The Picture of Dorian Gray last year in bookclub, she's noticed references to it pop up everywhere. If we never read it, would we still get those references?

I digress.

The whole reason I started to write this post tonight is because I've been feeling like half a person lately. I was kind of bummed the other night and I was talking to Col about it and he asked, "When was the last time you hung out with your friends?"

"I don't know," I said. "You're right. It's been too long. I really miss my friends."

So, at that moment, I grabbed my computer and e-mailed some of my gals and said, "Let's get together!" Within minutes a couple of them wrote back saying they've been feeling the same way. Sad, and missing the gals. My female friends.

Just give me a minute. I will get to my point.

The night after I wrote the e-mail, I went to Emi's to watch a movie. Elisa and Lauren and Heather were there too. (It was so good to see my friends!) We watched The Women. It was star-studded and kind of cute. But the most interesting thing about it was this: There wasn't a guy in the entire movie. Not even in the scenes where they were walking on the streets of New York City. Not one single man. All women.

I felt like the someone was trying to send me a message: get with your girls now.

Let me be clear: I love my man. I love my family. My coworkers. My alone time. But something about getting together with my girlfriends is so healing and so rejuvenating. We just haven't been giving each other enough attention lately.

We all hung out again together tonight for dinner. We were talking and eating and catching up, laughing and crying. So what have we all been up to? Emi's been nursing mainly and holding a newborn baby in her arms. Becky's been working hard and going to classes. Elisa's been raising a child and devising her new life plan. Lauren's been working hard and dogsitting and is taking scuba lessons and planning her next travels. I've been working and snowboarding and visiting family and planning a wedding.

But amidst all that, I've missed my girlfriends. They all left just now and we all promised to get together again next week. I really hope we do!

Some more fabulous gals:

Baby Sapphire and her mum

Mother Nature, she's been so fierce (and fabulous!) lately—that's her icing the window

Au Lait and Suki in the newly painted bedroom. I've heard female cats are harder to befriend—but look, they're sitting on the same bed now!

distractions and contractions at Christmas dinner

Well, we made it through Christmas—a day we'll remember forever—though looking back, it seems as though everything were on fast forward.

It all started Christmas Eve. Em, Kev, Colin and I went out for sushi at Asiana. We knew Emi might have her baby at any moment and so we wanted to make the most of our time together. Dinner was wonderful. It was so quiet all around town. We ate a lot of maki. Emi had the non-sushi kind. I got a crazy roll called Kiss the Dragon and my favorite mango martini. We got to ride home in Em & Kev's new car—a Passat wagon—that they had already outfitted with a baby seat.


The next morning was Christmas. Em & Kev came over for breakfast and my parents arrived with lots of prezzies and all of the stockings (apparently Santa was too busy to bring them to Burlington himself). Kev made some fabulous bacon—the thick-cut kind from his special pig. Emi had made cranberry muffins and cinnamon rolls. Col served mimosas and bloody Marys (an Alger family tradition). Emi ordered an extra-spicy virgin Mary. She later told us she thinks that was the thing that put her into labor—her contractions started right after that. They went home for a while to rest.

Kev got new glasses in his stocking:


A little later, slight chaos ensued. Auntie Lucy and Uncle John arrived. I started prepping Christmas dinner. Colin was working on his mom's famous crab dip. We put out the ham. The pastelles were steaming. Dinner was just about ready.




Suddenly, my knife slipped as I was cutting an apple into matchsticks for the salad—and it sliced into my pinky finger. The cut was pretty bad and my mom said I should probably go to the emergency room. So Col and I jumped into the car and sped off to the hospital. An hour and a half, one tetanus shot and a glued-up, bandaged pinky later (thank God no stitches!) we arrived home again just in time for Christmas dinner.


Emi and Kev had arrived. My sis was more flushed that usual. And she kept leaving the room every few minutes. Was it really happening?


We sat down to a wonderful dinner with ham, smoked trout, pastelles, rice & gandules, tangerine green beans, and the red & white salad that started it all. Then there was the figgy pudding to ignite. But Emi wasn't in the room.

"Em, do you want to see the figgy pudding?" we yelled out.

She came in for the figgy pudding. We lit it. We took pictures. We pulled the crackers and put on our crowns.




Emi was gone again. Then she was back.

"I think we need to go," she said. It was really happening... We all got up from the table and tried to keep busy.


Colin and I finished the rest of the Abbot's Table while we video chatted with Hannah for a while. We pretended to eat popcorn together and chink our glasses in a toast. Then we took pictures of each other as though we were at the same party. We kind of were. And the party was fun.


The next morning, we woke up and got ready to go visit Colin's family in New York. Papa had news about Em—they had checked into the hospital at 5:30 in the morning. Holy cow!

We were packing up the car when Papa cried out, "it's a girl!"

What?! We were all in shock. So soon? Then we were all crying and hugging each other. She did it! Emi did it! I don't know why I think I expected her to be pregnant forever. The baby thing felt kind of surreal.

But she's real. And she's beautiful. And she's a really great suckler. Her name is Sapphire. Holy crap, I'm a auntie!

gift wrap

Tonight after work, I picked up a big brown box from Em & Kev's house. It was filled, I knew, with prezzies from the West Coast—our sister Hannah wrapped them with care and shipped them off to arrive just in time for Christmas.

When I got home, I place the cardboard box untouched by the Christmas tree. I let it sit there while we cooked and ate dinner, while we did some things around the house. But finally, when Col relegated me to the living room for some personal time, I sat face to face with the cardboard box.

So, I decided to open it up.

I cut into the tape on the top and let the flaps fall open. Inside the box, Hannah was everywhere—she was in the beautiful wrapping paper, the artfully placed ribbons, the intricate hand-cut tags and graceful writing.

I felt my eyes begin to tear. I miss her. I do. I wish she could be here for Christmas, to see my ring and to be here when Baby Kouri arrives.

I pulled out one thoughtfully wrapped gift after another, and as I carefully peeled away the bubble wrap and blew off the packing peanuts, I felt somebody else's presence in that box, too: Mama Sonia.

Mama Sonia always used to send us boxes filled to the brim with prezzies, wrapped in luxurious papers, labeled with embossed stickers advertising the local gallery or special boutique where she bought them. She was always so thoughtful with her gift-giving. So thoughtful with the presentation. The whole package, which always included a Harrington's ham, smoked turkey breast and a huge round of Stilton cheese.

Hannah, you reminded me of Mama Sonia tonight and I felt like both of you were with me by the Christmas tree—the tree that witnessed Col's proposal, the tree that was felled in a fit of love and bliss. Now you (your prezzies) are posing prettily under it. And Mama Sonia (her hand-stiched angel) is perched at the tippy top. And the Harrington ham is chilling in my fridge (Poopy, I just read your blog about the chicken, so I know you can especially appreciate this point!)

You're here in spirit. xoxo

o christmas tree, oh my!

This weekend, Col and I went to get our Christmas tree. It's going to be our first tree in the new place, plus we're hosting Christmas dinner this year, so Col had his heart set on 1) the biggest tree ever and 2) cutting our own.

He did some research and found a tree farm in Stowe, called Paine's, not far from the mountain access road, so we went there after snowboarding on Saturday.

When we arrived, we asked one of the guys, "where are your biggest trees?" He told us we'd have to walk all the way to the back of the property to find them. The walk was at least a half mile, but we were up for it. So we grabbed a saw and were off. We held hands the whole way. It was quite romantic actually.



We finally found the tall ones. The were really tall. But kind of scraggly around the middle. So we kept searching, zig-zagging in and out of tree lines, over stumps, under branches. Suddenly, I backed myself into a ditch and my foot landed in a deep puddle of ice water. It was so cold and wet! But I was determined to keep my spirits up. So we kept looking.

Finally, we found it. Our tree. It was perfect! Full and beautiful. And perfect. Here it is:

So we found it, but then we had to cut it down. Col got down on his knee to inspect the trunk and bottom branches. Then this happened:


"Will you marry me?" he said and burst into tears. That's right, Col pulled me down under the tree and proposed right then and there. It was the most romantic thing in the whole world. I was completely surprised and unprepared, but I managed to squeak out an "Of course I will!" before we both turned into puddles. The man in the tree tractor drove by at least once. He must have wondered what the heck we were doing.

After our little romantic session, we still had to cut down the tree. You know what they say about big trees: Big trees, big trunk. It took a while, Col was still shaking from the whole ordeal, but finally that man of mine cut down the tree.

We spent the rest of the weekend calling family and friends, drinking champagne, and of course trimming the ginormous tree, which, by the way, fits perfectly in our place.

And tonight we made some origami peace cranes for ornaments. Aren't they cool?


Holy crap, we're engaged. Loveyoubye