multi-tasking is not conducive to the creative process. Or is it?

It's a Friday morning and I'm at home. Not at work, not traveling. Just home. And our little babe is asleep in her crib for a loooonng nap. Kitty is asleep cuddled up next to me. I can't remember the last time I had two minutes to rub together for such a quiet, unadulterated moment. And of course, the minute I realize, "I have MEEE time" I think of a million ways to fill it. So I clean the living room, delete old files off my computer, organize some photos, pay some bills and then I remember that I've been wanting to write more, so I open up my computer AGAIN.

But then I remember I had wanted to check my work email (why, oh why do I do that on my days off?). So I got distracted by that for a while. Then, only then, did I shut everything else down and turn towards my writing.

I remember that when I used to write in my journal, I would spend some time thinking about my day and what I wanted to remember from it—or learn from it. William Wordsworth described this moment as he lay on the couch as a "vacant or pensive mood" in which to be inspired. And so it was, I would seize upon a particular word or image, and then I would just let it flow. That used to be easy for me.

But back then, I was never very good at doing laundry or cleaning house.

Now, when I have one hand holding baby, another feeding the cats, another on my phone checking messages, another hand waving to Col as he gets home from work (and of course that dang work e-mail), and still another hand stirring dinner on the stove and stacking baby bottles in the dishwasher, the concept of quiet introspection seems comical.

And still, the drive to write and to be thoughtful is there.

I will never not want to write. So, maybe for now, when I start to hear whimpers from the nursery and my dang phone is dinging again and the washing machine is buzzing. For now, perhaps my writing needs to be short and sweet and inspired by the very chaos life has become. Perhaps a structured haiku poem to harness that chaos a bit? Yes, a haiku! Hang on, what are the rules for haiku again?

Hang on, let me Google it. Hang on...

Oh yes, haiku is 17 syllables, 3 lines in 5-7-5 pattern. Often about nature. Okay here's my Friday morning meeee time haiku (inspired by one of the loves of my life cozy next to me):

Cat, I love you, purr
Despite bites, blood, ER, pills
I still love you, Cat.

the babby room

We don't have a ton of space in our home, so when it came time to decide where to put our babby and all the babby treasures, we had to make a tough decision to give up the space in our beloved den to make room. We would move the sofa and T.V. out into the great room. The idea of it made me a little nervous. (Put the T.V. in the same room where we cook and eat? Ack!) But it was better than putting it in the bedroom. And after we came up with a design plan, we both felt pretty good about things. Then when we actually moved the furniture and set up both rooms, we wondered why we never did it this way from the start.

Here was the den before:

And here's our new nursery, which we love:

spring scenes in the city

I'm a country girl of sorts. But I find beauty in cities. There's something about a metropolitan skyline, juxtaposed with earthly elements, that just heightens your awareness of the natural beauty around us. A pink sunset reflecting off a glass building. An apple blossom canopy over a dingy old fire hydrant. Yes, there is beauty in these things.

Here are some images that I took recently (on my phone no less), one in Burlington, a couple in New York. Perhaps it's the dirty, man-made city stuff framing Mother Nature in such an unexpected way that makes her look even more charming and awe-inspiring.

running in the rain

For many people, I think inclement weather is considered good reason enough to put off a workout. Not me though. I don't even need that excuse. For me, a mere "I'm tired," is enough to keep me from putting on my running shoes.

But the rain, I could run in the rain all day. I love the cool, wet on my face. The sound of puddles splashing as I pass by. The verdant landscape all around me that seems to pop with a bright spring green in big contrast to the gray skies above.

I think this rain-running love started way back when I was training on the ski and cross-country teams in school. When you're training, you don't just not run because it's raining. Your coach will see to that. So you learn to enjoy it.

But like I said before, it's not bad weather that holds me back. It's my excuses and lack of motivation. Without a coach around to hold me accountable, I'm realizing that I need a support system to keep me going when "I'm too tired" seems to roll off the tongue so easily these days. So the other day, my sisters and I decided to be each others' support systems.

But today, on the first day of the new motivated me, I texted them to see if they wanted to go running with me after work. Turned out neither of them could make it. I was feeling sorry for myself. For a little bit. But the thing about a support system is this: when all else fails you need to be able to support yourself.

So tonight I left work with all intentions to go running. I got home, fed the cats. I was hungry, so I had a snack. I could feel the urge to run waning with every minute I stalled. So I bargained with myself: "just go for a walk and if you feel like running, you can." That was enough to get me out the front door. But as soon as I got outside it started raining. A good, solid, steady rain. "I can't walk in this," I thought to myself. So I started running. I ran the whole way and got home drenched and hot and chilly all at the same time. But it felt so good. And I was so proud of myself for just doing it. All by myself. So I wanted to celebrate this little moment somehow. So here it is: I went running. Yay!

powder on the mount

One of the popular courses of discussion at my work, besides food of course, is the weather. That probably goes without saying at many a workplace. Especially with such a snowy winter as we have had. And what I've noticed from these kinds of conversations is that you can immediately detect the skiers and riders from everyone else. They're the ones that, when April 1 rolls around and the weather service puts out a winter storm warning predicting 6-8 inches of snow, are crossing their fingers for powder. Whereas everyone else just gets depressed. I belong to the former group.

So yesterday at work, when the only wet coming from the sky was a cold, damp rain, and some anti-snowy colleagues began to gloat, "I knew that forecast couldn't be true," I found myself slightly annoyed. "I'll show them!" I thought to myself and set my alarm clock for 6:45 a.m. this morning (Saturday). I dragged myself out of bed and called the Stowe line. They had 6" of fresh snow! With Colin on the other side of the world and my snowboarding friends out of town, I packed up my stuff and went to Stowe solo.

I found a quiet untouched corner and had powdery trails all to myself. "Where is everyone?" I wondered. I guessed they were probably back at home cleaning up their yards for spring. Or taking a run in the mud and puddles. Not me though, I was enjoying full-on winter up there.

I took some pics with my phone and texted them to Col. "Pow! Wishing you were here." He was just about to have dinner in Hong Kong. "Having pre dinner drinks overlooking HK," he texted back. (That text'll cost $0.25). I was about to ride a trail that's only open when there's lots of snow, because of all the rocks and drops. First time I tried it was with Col during the epic March snowstorm. Second time was now, by myself. So I sent another pic to prove I was doing it. He wrote back, "Wow... that's unfair! Shred the pow pow!" (Another $0.25, but so worth it: I miss my boy and having that little conversation was the next best thing to having him there with me.)

I wish I could say I stayed there all day, but after a couple of hours I was tired and ready to go home. And by that point, the snow was getting chunky and wet and slow. No, didn't last long, but it was long enough to get outside and enjoy this beautiful paradise we live in.

As I drove back to Burlington, the snow began to recede. It was a totally different world and climate less than an hour away. I walked up to my back door and noticed that the huge pile of snow that had accumulated on top of our garden is almost totally melted. I picked up a couple of stray papers that had blown around onto the yard and underneath one of them I found fresh green 2" shoots sprouting out of the dead chive patch from last year. My chives are up!

Winter at the mount, spring in the valley. I can live with that. It's the best of both worlds.

a rickety, but creative, process

During both pregnancies, my sister Emma had her baby bump set in a belly cast as a memento. Hannah painted a scene of an African savanna on the first one.

When Em told me she wanted me to paint the belly cast from Teo, I was at the same time excited and nervous. I didn't want to mess it up. And it's been a reaallllly long time since I've done any painting.

Emi asked if I could do a marine life scene. So at first I thought I might do the same color scheme as Hannah's painting, but instead of silhouette, I would make the water dark and the fishies bright and colorful. So I started with a bright yellow base coat.

Then I painted on the deep blue sea...

I had turned my dining room into a studio. I was getting in the groove again. It felt good.

But then I got stuck. I knew I wanted to do mamas and babies. But suddenly school bus yellow seemed totally wrong for the whales, basking in some sun rays from above. And I wanted to make the dolphins blue too. The palette was turning tonal. "That's okay," I thought. "I'll do a coral reef and tropical fish at the bottom and they be bright and colorful." Colin even started helping me by painting some of the coral reef.

Problem was, I didn't like it. Something didn't feel right, no matter how much I painted and painted, but I couldn't put my finger on it. So I put it away for a while. I sort of forgot about it for a bit, though in the back of my mind, there was a gnawing feeling. Must. finish. that. painting.

Then inspiration manifested itself in the most unexpected place. I was at a dinner party, where my friend Kadina was painting faces. The electric green animal print she painted on my face was super-cool.

Hannah snap a photo on my iPhone and we carried on with our night. But the next day, I looked at it again and suddenly I had the inspiration I needed. I pulled out the belly cast and all of my paints and art supplies and I got to painting. Green, lots of green. I muted the sea turtles. I painted over the fire orange sea horses. I green-tinted the crabs. I even covered up the yellow strips on the angelfish. The last to go was the coral reef. I left just enough coral-colored coral for a little pop.

Now, the only yellow that's left are little specs of the undercoat peeking through the deep blue water. It looks like electrified plankton drifting through the sea.

Dang, that felt good. It's done. I gave it to Em & Kev yesterday. I'm pleased. Here it is.

the radish

It's been a while. So let's ease back into things with something simple. A photo perhaps. Here's one of a watermelon radish I picked up at the farmers' market. I always thought I hated radishes. Maybe it was one bad radish that ruined the lot. Maybe it was because growing up "do you want the radish" meant "you're on thin ice." It was a warning more than it was a root vegetable. Any-who.

Now I've discovered I actually love them and I especially love watermelon radishes, which have a gorgeous hot pink inner core. They're peppery, which makes salt the obvious condiment. (Hannah and Richard got me hooked on this snack.) Here I've sprinkled slices with smoked sea salt that I bought in Kauai last year. It's the last of the lot. This is one bite that makes my mouth water!

who's afraid? not me

This week is the week of overcoming fears. Why now? It just so happens I have the opportunity to go outside of my comfort zone. So I am going to break my routines and try some new things. Some big, some not so big. This is going to be life-changing, whatever the outcome. Anyways, I started small today with a couple of things...


Fear #1: Car Repair
Status: Conquered squarely
Okay, so I know that my engineer grandfather is going to roll over in his grave when I admit this, but I have this strange fear of fixing anything on my car myself. It took me years to even feel comfortable pumping gas. I think it stems from the fear of doing something wrong and causing the whole thing to blow up. Any-who, speaking of blowing things up, I have never even blown up the tires myself. Until today, I didn't even know how to figure out what pressure they were supposed to be. But one of my tires was low and Colin is out of town. So I thought to myself, "You know, this is one thing I can probably do."

I looked in my car manual to find out the pressure. It told me to look inside the gas flap. And, tad-dah! There it was. There were two sets of numbers, 1 for front, 1 for back, 1 for heavy load, 1 for light load. Well, the first one was easy: Front! The second one I just picked one: that part caused my heart to beat a bit faster. But not nearly as fast as when I drove to the gas station, turned on the air pump and tried attaching the dang thing to the tire. (Again, I was picturing explosions left and right.) But finally I got it to work. I even figured out how to use the pressure gauge. And I did it! Done! Cross that one off my list.

Fear #2: Home Repair
Status: Still out to jury
Again, I think this one stems from the fear of doing something wrong and causing the whole house to fall down. But is a crack in the tub really that scary? Only if I do nothing about it and it starts to leak and cause the entire floor below it to rot. So I went to the hardware store and got a tub epoxy repair kit. Ok, the "epoxy" part sounds scary, but I'm planning to do it tomorrow night. Fingers crossed.


Fear #3: Traveling alone in a foreign country where I don't speak the language
Status: It's all happening
Let's get one thing straight: I am proud to say I've done quite a bit of foreign travel by myself. But it's always been to a country where I spoke the language. If not, I've always been with someone who does. Well, I'm going to have to just get a little brazen and assert my English, because soon I'll be going to Austria for a few days. And while I will be meeting my lovely husband on the other end, I first have to arrive in Munich, Germany, find the shuttle that goes for 2 hours to some tiny village in the Alps, make sure they have my reservation and get on the dang thing. Then I have to find my husband in that tiny village. But that seems like the easy part somehow.

Fear #4: Wild card
Status: Still to be determined
While I'm in Austria, I want to do at least one, maybe two things that really make my heart beat. What will they be?

find a new recipe, cook soup

My mum has been sending me an email every day, with updates on how her "home therapy" is going... It's been inspiring me to keep going, even though I'm having a hard time finding the motivation. So on Day 9 (last Thursday), the task was to find a new recipe and cook dinner. I didn't do it. And I didn't do it Friday night and I didn't do it all weekend.

Isn't that strange? I mean, I love cooking dinner. And I love trying new recipes. Heck, my job is all about that. But even I get in a rut sometimes. Plus, I get preoccupied with other things. (Sometimes I get annoyed that we humans must eat every day. Do you? It just really takes up so much time!) But finally I got my inspiration back tonight.

Mummy had brought me a pumpkin and a butternut squash from her garden a couple of weeks ago and I really needed to use them up. So I found this recipe from work that I've always wanted to try: Roasted Pumpkin Apple Soup. I peeled and seeded the pumpkin. I peeled and seeded the squash. I cut up some apples. I roasted them all together with some sage, salt and pepper. Then I pureed them up into a yummy soup, not unlike my Autumn Elixir. Col made grilled cheeses to go with.

It was nice and simple. And now we have soup dinner for the rest of the week. And (hopefully!) roasted pumpkin seeds too if we can get our act together.

the year of tarragon

I tend a small kitchen herb garden by the back entrance of our home and every year it flourishes. My lavender especially. By whim, this year, I decided to plant some French tarragon. It's pretty and I thought maybe I could use it in some recipes (even though until now I hadn't used it very much at all).

Over the summer, I became obsessed with its sweet licorice flavor and started snipping it into everything from fresh green salads and dressings to lemony pasta and mussels steamed in white wine.

My other herbs got the cold shoulder this year, but I believe they've have their fair share of time in the sun. This year is the year for tarragon.

And it's still flourishing—even amidst frosts and snow flurries.

This morning, I discovered a new sweeter side of tarragon and my taste buds were just blown away. I was making myself a breakfast parfait with a chopped honeycrisp apple, some banana, plain whole milk yogurt, a touch of maple syrup and some granola on top. I wanted to snip some basil in, but the basil in my garden has gone by and there's no mint either. But tarragon? Yes, there's still tons. And I thought to myself, "This might be crazy, but I'm willing to give it a try!"

And you know what? It was really quite wonderful.

Now I'm sitting here typing and nibbling on some fresh tarragon leaves—tastes just like candy!—and I felt the need to share my obsession.

autumn elixir with mumma

I put other things aside last night to have dinner with my mummy. It was sort of a last minute thing. I can't remember the last time the two of us spent time together, just us. She's been staying with my sis this week, so came over as soon as I was done work. We chatted as I cut up squash, onions and apple to roast for a soup.

I told her how inspired I've been by this whole 20/20 cure project. [Update on that is here: Yesterday's task (day 4) was to give one thing away. I actually have 3 things to give away (a chandelier, a small table and some chair covers), but I'm waiting till tomorrow to bring them to Recycle North. Today's task (day 5) is to get some "green" home cleaners. That wasn't hard, considering I try not to keep a lot of chemicals in the house. And the one bottle of bleach I do have scares me. I keep it hidden away in the basement...]

Mummy got inspired just talking with me about it, and said she couldn't wait to go home and clean out the storage room in the basement. Here's hoping you do, Maman!

It didn't take long for the veggies to roast, then I sauteed up some other yummy tidbits, added some spices, grated some fresh ginger and turmeric, and blended the whole thing into a flurry. I just happened to have a few candied walnuts leftover from my friend Elisa. I sprinkled those on top. We ate it simply with some warm baguette. It was just the ticket.

It was apparent that all beings in the house felt warm and fuzzy all over. Even our timid cat Suki came out of her social nut-shell and gave Mummy the special treatment, purring and rubbing up against her leg.

The soup, by the way, was delicious. I e-mailed Mummy my makeshift recipe (I realized it's not that easy to do when you're just throwing things in the pot). She replied saying, "This is the new name for your amazing soup: AUTUMN ELIXIR!!!"

Penelope's Curry Ginger Roasted Butternut Squash Soup (AKA Autumn Elixir)

1. Roast one butternut squash (cut in half, scoop, cut sides down on oiled pan, 40-50 minutes at 400)
2. In a Dutch oven or other big pot, saute: a chopped onion, a couple of chopped celery stalks, and some chopped garlic till tender and fragrant
3. Add 1 tsp curry powder, dash each of cumin and ground coriander
4. Add 1/2 bouillon cube and a few cups of water (or broth)
5. Add the cooked squash
6. Then grate in at least a teaspoon, I like more, fresh ginger. Grate a little bit of fresh turmeric too if you have some. Then cook it a little bit more.
7. Puree (Here's where my magic wand is really handy. What are they called? Immersion blenders?)
8. Add salt, pepper, honey to taste

Last when I made it for mummy, instead of doing halves, I peeled and diced the squash, then tossed it with a chopped onion, 2 or 3 whole garlic cloves, a chopped apple, some olive oil, salt and pepper. I cooked at 450 for 20-30 minutes...

day 3: feeling saturated & inspirational photos to sooth

There's something magical that happens when you first open a tube of watercolor paint, squeeze some of the saturated pigment into a dish, soften it slowly with water and a paint brush, then sweep it in light strokes across a piece of cotton paper. By way of the water, saturation inherits clarity and airiness. It becomes accessible and approachable.

I don't think this is necessarily a good quality that I have, but I tend to fit too much in. I have a hard time saying no to requests and invitations, I make commitments, and on top of that I set unrealistic goals for myself. Does this sound familiar? I think we've all just become really good multitaskers. It all seems to work out, though, in some uncanny way.

I know I'm over-saturated when every spare moment is spent (yes, even spare moments are spent doing something!) looking for moments of asylum and clarity.

I need something to water me down.

This 20/20 cure thing I'm doing is really helping in that regard. Today's task was to find inspirational photos for our home. It was perfect actually, because this month's Elle Decor was in my mailbox when I got home and I had no trouble flipping through and finding tons of photos to inspire.

Colin and I decided that our next project is probably going to be turning the basement into a guest suite. We're inheriting an amazing bed from Kevin's parents. For colors, we're really feeling warm earthy tones with lots of airiness to balance it out.

I keep thinking to myself: how would I want it to be if I were going to stay there for a weekend myself? I would want it to be a quiet get-away: an asylum; a calming space to wash away some of the saturation and turn it into a watercolor. Sounds lovely, right? I want our basement bedroom to be an airy watercolor painting.

These pictures make me think of that.

day 2: flowers before and after

I'm the kind of person who thrives on small goals—and deadlines. I get satisfaction from writing lists and checking things off. So, feeling the need to feed my creativity, I decided to do the 20/20 cure on Apartment Therapy as a way to get inspired to beautify the space around me. Every day, for 20 days, there is a simple assignment. Things like clean 1 room or hang artwork. I can do these things!

Today is day 2 (yesterday, day 1, was clean 1 room; I chose the bathroom. Now it's clean!). Today's assignment: buy flowers. Well, I didn't buy flowers, because I have some gorgeous lavender blooming out back. And so this, morning, I made myself a few minutes later than usual for work so that I could refresh a dead bouquet that's been sitting on the coffee table longer than I'd care to admit. It was well worth being late for work.

Hey, I'm putting myself out there posting these before & afters. Now you know one of my dirty little secrets: I have bouquets of dead flowers sitting around the house. But this morning, I dumped the dead flowers, cleaned out my beautiful bud vase and filled it with a fragrant bunch of purple buds. There, now I feel so much better...

Before:

After:

blueberries, finally

Just down the road from where I work is the Charlotte Berry Farm. It's a fabulous place with rows upon rows of beautiful berries—strawberries, raspberries, blueberries—and a very friendly family who runs it. Pick-your-own blueberries are just $2 a pound! When 1/2 pints are running upwards of $5 a piece at the local market, that's a steal!

But even though I love berry picking and I love the berry farm and it's just a couple minutes away, I've been meaning to get over there since June. I completely missed strawberry season. Boo! So I was determined to get over there before all of the berries are gone completely. I planned on going today after work.

It poured all day. But I was determined to go there rain or shine after work. And go I did.

The rain turned out to be a blessing, because it kept all the people (and bugs!) away. I practically had the place to myself. It was completely healing after such a stressful and crazy week, to spend some time alone in the berry bushes.

With every cluster of plump berries I plucked came a delicate shower of water too. It washed away the tension in my mind little by little. It was just what I needed. I was there for an hour and at the end had picked 3 1/2 pounds all by myself. All those berries and all that therapy for just $7!

Go berry picking.

pretty peas please

When the wind blows before a storm, it's hot and heavy. Basking in heat wind, you want to close your eyes and listen: because the trees are talking back. They moan at the force—they feel tired from the hot July sun, too tired and loose to stand strong—they bend to and fro. They say, "Leave me alooooone, I want to rest... grooooan." And if, with eyes closed, you listen, the leaves sound like a rushing stream, breaking and falling.

Really the best thing to do when everything about you is stirring and rushing—and you're feeling quite unsettled—is to sit and be as still as you possibly can.

Oh what a way to spend the afternoon: to sit out on the porch during such a rushing wind with a glass of white Bordeaux and a basket of peas in your lap. I sat there just now and shelled my peas as quietly as I could. Sometimes I closed my eyes. Soon the sun came out, but I know it won't last for long. Not with such a hot and heavy and foreboding wind...

The peas, we'll have for dinner. They'll go quite nicely with Hannah's roast chicken and corn on the cob. The plump peas are from my parents' garden, where we've been for the last couple of days. As are these beautiful flowers that I plucked just as we headed back home. They're quite pretty, aren't they?

persepolis

I was a total nerd in high school. I was a math geek, a science freak, an art lover and even a book worm. But there were two subjects that I despised: social studies and geography. Frankly, I found them boring and forgettable. And maybe I hated those subjects so much, simply because I wasn't very good them.

Maybe it was just the delivery.

The irony being, I suppose, that now I utterly love maps and traveling (though I'm still pretty bad at identifying places) and I absolutely love listening to public radio on my drive to and from work. The best days are when I'm running a little late and I catch both NPR news and BBC news back to back. I wouldn't say that I'm a history buff, but that I've learned to embrace the hiSTORY part. I guess that's my bookworm coming through.

But that's why I feel compelled to write about this book Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi, which I read last year for bookclub. Persepolis is more of a HERstory as they like to say. It's a memoir in 2 parts—a graphic novel—based on Satrapi's childhood in Iran during the 1979 Iranian Revolution. I just cringed as I wrote that last sentence. These books are almost impossible to ecapsulate in words. The illustrations are brilliant and grant access to a world that is inaccessible to someone like me via any other medium, be it a history book, full-length novel or any media outlet—even NPR. So I guess delivery does make a difference. You just have to read it (see it) to know what I mean. And how timely with so much media attention on Iran these days too. You read the book and then you hear the news and you can't help but wonder about the people. The real people.

Even better, they made a film from the graphic novels. (It was nominated for an Oscar - Best Animated Film - in 2008.) We watched it tonight for bookclub. We do that sometimes when we get tired of reading books.

Again I was blown away by the illustrations, the animations were brilliant. So much was said between the text—I felt like I understood. Like I knew a little more and was a little more hopeful. Art is so powerful in that way.

Satrapi says:

If I didn't know any people from other countries, I'd think everyone was evil based on news stories. But I know a lot of people, and know that there is no such thing as stark good and evil. Isn't it possible there is the same amount of evil everywhere?

If people are given the chance to experience life in more than one country, they will hate a little less. It's not a miracle potion, but little by little you can solve problems in the basement of a country, not on the surface. That is why I wanted people in other countries to read Persepolis, to see that I grew up just like other children. Read more.

So you have to read the book AND see the film. In that order. And then you'll probably want to go back and read the book again and then compare your own personal timeline to hers. It might make you sad, but it also might make you feel some gratitude and hope.

Maybe I won't turn on NPR tomorrow...maybe just for one day. I'll listen to music instead.

when it rains, dance

I guess you could say it's been raining a lot here over the past few weeks. I actually love the rain. One of my favorite things is waking up in the morning to the sound of rain falling on the street outside. The best is when a car goes through a puddle splashing the water all around. I love that sound.

Of course, to really enjoy the rain, you must have a stylish umbrella or two. And you must have a good attitude.


Hannah and I went to a parade last weekend in Burlington. It was for the Champlain Quadricentennial celebration. It was a big deal and they had invited a lot of fantastic performers from all over Vermont and Quebec.

It rained on the parade. Lots of performers had to drop out at the last minute, but the ones that did march down the Union Street to Union Station promenade definitely made up for it.

I mean, they were DANCING in the RAIN! They were dancing and singing and banging their drums. It was impossible not to get caught up in the energy. I mean, that's just so fantastic. They were exactly right. Why feel down about something that's totally out of our control? Why not just dance?

Here are some of my favorite pictures from the parade.

Bread & Puppet Billionaire Bail-Out Club:

Hannah learned some African dance moves:

This was one of my favorite performances. The man on stilts looked like an elegant spider wizard dancer.

The Bail-Out Club again:

Crazy bikers from Old Spoke's Home:

My friend Laura and her husband in their vintage Citroën:

robot room: before & after

Just as modern time is referenced by B.C. and A.D. so our kitchen is now defined by B.R. and A.R.—Before Robots and After Robots. It's the Robot Room now.

You see, my boy loves the clangy tin thing-a-ma-jiggies. When we go to New York, to Paris, to London, to Hong Kong, to anywhere, we inevitably return with at least one boxed-up gem complete with working innards and gears and a metal key to wind it up. Some of them play drums even. You could say Colin's like is somewhat of an obsession actually (the hard drive on his Mac, for example, is named ROBOTO).

Since we moved into our new place, however, his cherished friends have been relegated to a forgotten shelf in the basement. Gathering dust and rust. Never to see the light of day. Until now.

While Col was away, I decided to surprise him and not only finish painting the trim in the kitchen, but also to find a way to display his robot collection in full view for everyone to enjoy. I got this great idea from a picture on Apartment Therapy. I decided to mount a display shelf above the sink (maybe he would enjoy doing dishes then!). Emi and Kevin gave me some shelves. They're the perfect size.

Of course, being my father's daughter, I couldn't keep the secret till he got home and ended up showing him the shelves over video chat. He was thrilled. So here are some pictures B.R. and A.R.

Before Paint (before we even bought the place actually—so plain!):


Before Robots:



After Robots: