February 29, 2008

BlogFriends '08

Oh yes. We were there.
If you weren't, we may have talked about you.
You're just that special.

A series of photos is omitted from this collection. A baby is involved, one who prefers to remain incognito. His agents demand it. We cooperate without question because we're not like "Alice" on the L Word who signs a non-disclosure agreement and then outs a minor sports figure when it suits her. (Alice, what were you thinking?!)

Imagine, if you will, a large room containing a dozen or so convivial women, when in, astride one of his mothers' hips, struts an adorable six-month-old beautiful bouncing baby boy with a wide toothless grin. The delight was palpable, the infant amazingly compliant and seemingly equally as enamored of being passed from arm to arm and cooed over incessantly. Good times.

On to the photos then. Enjoy?


February 19, 2008

I Ate My Weight in Asparagus

It all started with a note left on our door last Thursday. A bright yellow 3x3 Post-It at eye-level on the carport door greeted me when I arrived home: "Would you like some fresh asparagus?"

I perked. Why yes, yes I would love some fresh asparagus! I did a little happy dance right there in the carport. Our benefactor arrived with the bounty, at least as excited as I was. I perked again. She gently handed over a large bundle; the stalks firm and fresh and thin, just the way we like them. She had found a great sale and purchased a ton (her unit of measure). I understood the impulse.

My mind immediately began listing things to make with that asparagus. Shall I just steam them? I pondered. Asparagus quiche is delicious. How about a bisque, a la that zucchini soup Wendy adored? Or maybe an asparagus and feta frittata for Sunday brunch! Or my grandmother's asparagus and cheddar casserole.... oh nom nom nom!

Friday afternoon I tripped down to Sam's Club to stock up on a few staples. I pushed my cart past the produce section and lo! There I came upon large quantities of asparagus bundled into humongous Sam's Club-sized portions! Oh yes, they were as lovely and fresh and thin as the stalks our neighbor had gifted us! And cheap! Resistance was futile and a mega-bundle soon topped my cart, my culinary imagination joyously on overload.

It became our asparagus challenge. Fortunately I had hungry stomachs to help me out. It took company over the three-day weekend and leftovers for dinner tonight, but every stalk has been devoured.

It's the reason for the season.


February 11, 2008

♪♫ Ground Control to Major Tom.... ♫♪

Travel preparation has long inspired anxiety in me. Precious routines are interrupted and timeliness looms even larger than usual. It's serious business. At least that's how I see it, even when I'm not the one traveling.

Inefficient packing makes me crazy, but if it's not my suitcase, why do I care? Forgetting to pack stuff doesn't have to be a big deal, yet for some reason I anticipate the potential act of forgetting something as a horror to be avoided at all costs (perhaps an explanation for why I consistently over-pack). My anxiety immediately dissipates once travel has begun.

Friday evening The Boy prepared for an o'dark thirty flight out of town. Rarely have I felt as blessed as when Wendy said, "I'll take him to the airport." Which explains why she was already asleep beside me and I was wide awake. Listening to him pack.

Into the kitchen, then out to the carport. Up the stairs to his room. The dryer buzzed. Down to the basement. Back up to the landing and into the bathroom. Footsteps, doors, cabinets, stairs, floors, drawers: each sound distinct, repetitive and comforting in their familiarity. Packing progress.

It's easier now that he's grown. Through the years I've gone from packing for him to helping him pack to trying to mind my own business and let him mind his. He'll let me know if he needs me. He's independent with proven competence; I don't need to worry. But I do it anyway. Old habits and such.

I lay there under the covers, Pixie stretched along the length of my left leg, Wendy cuddling my right side, Dudley curled along her back. The house got very quiet and I drifted off to sleep.

The Boy will be home again in two weeks. Three weeks later he'll board another plane, off to Asia for nine months touring as "Rolf" in The Sound of Music.

China. Thailand. The Philippines. Holy shit. I don't even want to consider the anxiety I'll be squashing while he's packing for that trip.

Meanwhile, my heart swells with pride at his accomplishments as my head tries to tell me it's just another job (albeit a really cool one!). Still. He's come a long way since playing "Romeo" in elementary school.