Juno 1998-2011

We are now a one-dog household.

Iain Takes a Picture

The Mom, making the cake. Mmm...cake.

I Can Has Slippers?

Please note the total destruction of Chez Grandparents. I think we know who is to blame:

That's right: rocket man.

Every time we handed out a present, he would say, "Is it for me?" and "I LOVE IT." And we would say, "Open it!" Anything flat elicited, "I hope it's a book!"*

This is really the first year he's been fully aware of the Christmas concept. He recognizes Santa, he wants lights on the house (we told him he can have lights if he'll eat chicken and french fries. He said no.), and he actually went to sleep last night and tonight because of the promise that when he wakes up there will be special gifts. Also, he learned to rip off gift wrap this year.

*Proof we are good parents. Yes, I'm smirking. What of it?

College Plans

Me: "Iain, where are you going to go to college?"

[Pause]

Iain: "Dragon Mountain."

Me: "Is it hard to get in there?"

Iain: "Yes, a dragon lurks inside."

...

Iain: "You're my pet." [He pats me.] "You're a bad cat. A bad girl cat."

[Iain exits stage right.]

What Happens When You Get Up At 635am

Asleep in his snack.

Checking In

This morning, 635am:

I am sitting at the counter in the kitchen, reading the interwebs and drinking tea. Everyone else is asleep, or so I assume.

Iain appears, in his jammies, and says, "Everything ok here?"

Uh....yeah? And you?

He then played Legos for half an hour before breakfast.

I showed one of my students this.

He replied with this:

Ice Cream

So Iain disappears into his bedroom and reappears without his shirt. He eats dinner shirtless.

After the meal, the usual entreaty: "Can I have some ice cream?"

"Yes, but wait until Miss Olivia [who will be babysitting] arrives. You can have some with her."

"Oh. No. No."

"Why not?"

"Ice cream is private."

Oh.

Do You Think We Need a Downstairs Fridge?

So we take Iain out for dinner. Breakfast, of course.

He eats:

• One large pancake, with butter and maple syrup
• One large strip of bacon
• Two scrambled eggs
• A large pile of fried potatoes
• Two orange wedges
• A very large mug of hot cocoa

On the way home, we hear this from the backseat:

"I'm hungry."

And sure enough, he proceeded to drink a glass of goat milk, eat an entire large orange, and drink a glass of diluted cranberry juice.

We're doomed. Doomed, I tell you!

Preliminary Thanksgiving Menu

Ok.

Turkey. Naturally.

Dressing (not stuffing. Eww.)

Wild rice (alternative for those who don't like dressing)

Haricot Verts (tiny, skinny green beans)

Creamed spinach

Roasted sweet potatoes

Meyer lemon curd with something. Because.

So that's two starches, two greens, and a betacarotene infusion. Plus lemon curd!

That's my plan. For the moment. Iain, of course, will eat scrambled eggs and toast. Or a grilled cheese sandwich. Or noodles.

The What?

Iain's class had a "Friendship Feast." I presume this is a replacement for Thanksgiving (which is next week, anyway). We contributed turkey. Rolled up, deli-sliced turkey. Iain, of course, ate none of that.

Tonight at dinner we asked him about the feast. "The French Fry Feast?"

Yes, that one, son.

"I was invited by 3 Pre-K, actually."

Actually.

"It's nice to invite people."

In other news, it's snowing cats and dogs. We're forecast for a little accumulation (2 inches? 4 inches? Hard to know right now.), but it's so warm (40s!) that we imagine the snow'll melt away like magic.

It better. Tomorrow morning Iain's scheduled for another birthday party. This one's up a steep hill in a garden. Yes, a garden.

Scary Stories at Bedtime

Here's Iain's story:

There was a fishbear. With a turtle, racing. Then, they had pizza and cake (shaped like Cookie Monster and Elmo). Bearfish had cookie monster and the turtle had Elmo. And they were having a good time.

Then they played with a dinosaur. He grew really big. They blew party sticks. See below.

Then it was time for presents. The fishbear got a tire, a glue gun, a paintbrush, some pliers, cable, and a sander. Out of this, he built 2 racecars.

They raced around the world.

The end.

Sledding!

Today Iain saw the snow, asked to go outside to play in it, put on his boots, asked to sled, went sledding in the yard, and then went with us to sled in park. And he had fun. What a difference a year makes.

Insane. Holy Crap.

This.*

Ummm....yeah. We made this tonight and served it to friends for Halloween (as in: they brought their twins plus their baby, we provided dinner and then all the kids toddled out to trick or treat).

Amazing. One trick or treater, probably 8 or 9, said, "What's that smell?" I said, "It's pork. Is it good or bad?" "Good. Real good." Well thank you, young man. More candy for you!

Iain ate nothing (ok, he ate some jam, pulled off a bun with his fingertips, plus some golden kiwi), but he collected some nice candy - a pixie stick, a couple of little chocolate bars, an M&Ms bag, and a PEZ dispenser shaped like Spider Man. He refused to wear the fireman outfit (again), but agreed to wear a pair of Wall-E glasses Charles printed off the internet and cut out for him. He wore them for about 2 houses, but still. That's a step up from last year.

*Recipe: buy a pork shoulder about 3-4 lbs. Mine was labeled a "picnic" roast, but apparently shoulder is the same thing as Boston Butt, too. Mix up a rub with 1T plus 1t salt and the same amount of sugar per pound of pork. (since a tablespoon is 3 teaspoons, this means 4 teaspoons each of salt and sugar per pound of meat) plus some black pepper (ground). Rub this into the meat, then refrigerate overnight.

The next day, plop it into your cast iron skillet and roast in the oven at 250F for 6 hours. Let it rest 20-30 minutes, then pull it with forks. It's ridiculous. Hot, salty, and perfectly seasoned for eating with a warm bun. Crisp on the outside, tender on the inside...the most dangerous thing is the crispy pork fat on the outside. Better toss that, quick, or you'll stand there at the cutting board and ... I've said too much. You try it.

Halloween Maturity

I buy ten tons of candy and bring it home. Charles says, "Do you think we ought to put it where Iain can't see it?"

"Oh, no." I say, "I don't think Iain's ever seen this stuff. He won't know what it is."

Iain, ten minutes later:

"Candy!"

Autumn

Yo. Welcome to hiking, y'all. Until recently, I always "hiked" in my BOB, letting other people take care of the actual walking. But no more!

That's The Mom. I like to take photos sometimes. You know - when the staff's busy making my lunch.

This picture implies that I let The Dad carry me up Millcreek Canyon, but no. I actually walked my own little self up there.

Check it out:

Yep. That's me. And The Dad. We enjoyed the fall colors, walked a bit along a pretty trail, and otherwise experienced the great outdoors. Nothing like a little fresh air to make me hungry for pancakes (and bacon) (and pancakes) (with blueberries).

Utah in autumn. Not bad, even compared to New England.

Epic Fun or Horrible Nightmare? You Decide

Yes, that's Iain in a real, actual, authentic, not made up helicopter. It's an "exhibit" at a children's museum here. He LOVED it.

Gotta check your switches and buttons before you fire up those blades. Fuel? Check! Feet that reach the pedals? Uh...captain we might have a problem there.

Grr! I'm Iain and I'm going to fly this baby ALL NIGHT LONG!

So we went to a birthday party. Except that when I say we "went" to a "party," what I mean is that we spent 45 minutes trying to figure out how to access a party (25 minutes to drive across town at rush hour, 10 minutes parking, then 10 minutes walking across the Gateway only to look out and realize we'd walked in a huge circle), then encountered Iain's absolute and intractable refusal to participate.

He wanted to play with that helicopter, by God, and was not going to have any pizza, or cake, or costumes, or crown-making, or obstacle courses, or silk parachute flipping, or anything else. It was helicopter or freakout. Period.

Eventually, Mother and I convinced him to look at the rest of the museum, where he played with balls, a crane, a playhouse, a pretend farm, a Jeep (that you can gas up and whose tires you can inflate), and a water feature.

But when it was time to go? Howls. Screams. Wails. Protests beginning with the assertion that playing with the helicopter was "good for me!" and ending with demands to return "right now!!!"

He threw this fit all the way home. That's another 45 minutes, in case you're counting. Charles finally talked him down off the cliff, using orange segments and a firm but gentle insistence on quiet. Then Iain said, "I think I'll take a little nap."

Sweet silence. Sweet, sweet silence.

At Kyoto

What the twins (and their little brother) ate:

• California roll
• Rainbow roll
• noodles
• ginger
• tempura shrimp
• Salmon
• Eel
• Ikura (eggs!)
• Miso soup

What Iain ate:

• Two orange wedges
• Part of a lemon wedge

It's hard even to remember the baby who ate any old green/brown/red/orange/yellow thing I put in his mouth, so long as it was properly tarted up with cream, parmesan, or brown sugar.

Because I'm the Oldest

So we're driving to REI (20% off! I got boots, finally.). Iain's in the backseat.

[I chat with Mother]

Iain: "Can you be quiet? I need to make an important phone call."

[We giggle.]

Iain [into the phone]: "Hello? Are you there? Hello?"

Me: "IAIN! HEY PAY ATTENTION TO ME! DON'T MAKE THAT CALL, TALK TO ME PLAY WITH ME MEMEMEMEME!!!"

-pause-

Iain: "Mommy, I'm making an important call."

Me: "Yes, and you never let us make calls undisturbed. Why should I let you do so?"

Iain: "Because. I'm the oldest."

Oh.

Spaceman Spiff - To The Rescue!!

Oh, hai. Just your friendly neighborhood barefoot toddler here. I spent last Saturday playing at Liberty Park, then mixed it up on Sunday with a 2-hour visit to Laird Park. I'm training for a job as a park reviewer. Being a restaurant reviewer is so five minutes ago - parks are the coming thing.

In other news, I'm trying out a new pair of glow-in-the-dark pajamas tonight. They're covered in rocket ships, stars, and planets. Call me Spiff. Spaceman Spiff. I'll be here with my trusty Roox Cube [Rubix Cube], making plans and saving stranded space travelers.

Also, check out the above. My parents signed me up for rock climbing lessons last summer. Little did they know that I would sit out each lesson, playing with a puzzle and refusing to climb. But I guess something stuck because when I saw this incline I said, "Oh, rock climbing!" and scrambled right up it like a pro.

Night Night!

P.S. I'm sleeping in my tent tonight. On the floor. Because.

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Another Path to Happiness

As it prepared for the 2002 Olympics, Salt Lake City built a number of delightful little nooks around the city. One, above, was a play area in Liberty Park. There are rings intended to evoke the Olympic rings, there are fountains spraying water in four different ways (giant streams, a cool mist, gauntlets of sprinkles through the hoops...), there are castles and swings and little play crab shacks and tiny tunnels, and, and, and.

Iain - after making it crystal clear that watching state championship girls' tennis was a bore - enjoyed the playground this morning. The best part was undoubtedly running barefoot through the water.

Happiness.

New Truck

Happiness.

It's a Mystery

Whoooo could have been in the trash? Whooo could it have been?

Chat During Quiet Time

Iain, talking to himself:

Which treasure island are you going to?

We're going to the big one where all the treasure is.

It's behind the street.

And behind this big yellow thing.

Hmmm...I think this is one of those moments when Charles says, "That's your kid."

Give it a minute.

Beautiful. Check 3:55, when he does the routine backward.

Saturday Morning

UP, up, up this morning so we could race over to Liberty Park for a run/walk on behalf of the Cornelia de Lange Foundation.

We took a lap around the park (and were lapped by my students, running along at three times our pace), then played in the smaller playground. Finally, Grandma suggested a snack at Tulie.

Cafe au lait? Blueberry muffin? Steamed milk with vanilla for The Pasha? Yes, please.

Nightmares

No nap.

Epic fit at 530.

By 550, asleep at the foot of the Big Bed.

2am, here I come!!

Gah.

Gardener's Little Helper

I grew a cucumber. And nearly lost it.

How?

Iain and I spent a happy half hour outside, planting neglected grasses, watering (him), and harvesting a few tomatoes plus one ripe cuke.

At some point, Iain was wandering around the backyard with that cucumber, exclaiming that it would be good to eat. This is pure BS, of course, since he only eats fruit, dairy, and carbs. But I encourage admiration for vegetables.

That was an hour ago. Just now, I thought "Where's that cucumber?" Not in the yard. Not in his tool bag. Not hidden in the grill.

So I asked him. "I put it in the watering can so it could have a bath."

Oh, of course. And there it was, wet.

Tragedy in the Land of Nod

Hubris. It'll get you every time.

Last night Iain fell asleep while we were walking him to the park. So we walked home. He crawled into bed (715) and we enjoyed our quiet evening.

Until, of course, about 230 am. At that point, he appeared and demanded Water! A Kleenex! Potty! His motorcycle! Snuggles!

This went on until 330. Then, at 430, he climbed into the Big Bed and elbowed his way into a spot. At 6 my alarm rang.

Woe. Woe is me.

Miracle Occurs: Child Sleeps

We've been fighting with Iain for months. The subject of our woe: bedtime.

Like every other kid in the history of mankind, Iain does not agree it's time for bed. Ever. Midnight? Too early!

When he was a baby (like, really a baby) we read Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child. It worked. At five months, Iain slept through the night and went down easy. In my arrogance, I read through the toddler sections (I couldn't imagine we'd ever get there), then gave the book away. Oops.

But when Charles said, "Maybe we should move up his bedtime," I remembered a critical passage. Weissbluth says that sometimes when parents complain that a toddler won't go to sleep he advises they move the bedtime up. That is: put that kid to bed earlier. Aha!

We also agreed, recently, to a campaign to abandon the board book. I recall listening to The Lord of the Rings around 5 or 6. If we're to achieve that level of listening, we need to start NOW. So I purged Iain's board books yesterday and last night Charles embarked on a read-a-palooza.

He started at about 715 with The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins. By the 453rd hat (or so), Iain was asleep. ASLEEP! At 725!! And aside from a not very important episode of crawling into our bed to kick us (at 430am), he stayed asleep all night.

So tonight I put Day Two of Charles' plan into action.

• 645 - bathtime
• 700 - 3 Dr. Seuss stories (long ones)
• 715 - Beatrix Potter ("The Tale of Tom Kitten," which is all about the riveting subject of getting your clothes dirty)
• 725 - sleep. Seriously. Blissful, zonked-out, land of nod sleep.

I hardly know what to do with myself.

Did I Mention the Puff Pastry?

Browsing teh interwebs two weeks ago, Charles ran into these. They are puff pastry turnovers filled with Nutella and marshmallows. Yes.

Here's the recipe: get some puff pastry. Cut it into pieces. Put in a very small amount (we used Iain's baby spoons) of Nutella and 2 or 3 mini marshmallows. Fold over, seal, bake at 350 for 20 minutes or so. Melt into a puddle of delirious goo. Repeat.

Amazing.

In other news, today we signed Iain up for his first ski lessons. For five weeks next spring (when he's nearly 4), he'll spend the day learning to ski with a bunch of other small people. Our neighbor, George, runs the program and he told us all about their activities (playing on a firetruck! Meet the avalanche rescue dogs! etc.). So here's to Iain becoming a little snowhound like his parents.

We got season passes, too. Because...mmmm....snow....

Bear Lake Raspberries

For the last few weeks of August, one stand at the Farmer's Market sold Bear Lake Raspberries. It was the picture of hilarious abundance: tons and tons of berries, obviously the product of a season in which all the berries ripened like a thunderclap.

They're gone now. But while they lasted? Fantastic. Mother made jam. I made raspberry ice cream. Iain doesn't care - he likes it all.

Spoonbread

I love corn. Corn pudding, corn on the cob, cornbread...it's all good. Charles even took me to the Spoonbread Festival when we first moved to Kentucky. That was a tad disappointing, but only because I'd imagined vast tubs of delicious spoonbread everywhere. Alas, no.

But now I can make my own! It turns out that my paternal grandmother's recipe is amazing, and I've got it because my dad kept a newspaper article for...50 years? That's him on the right, below:

Check out that perfect 50s family. The recipe, printed for the edification of the paper's readers, turns out to be easy, quick, and consistent. You can't ask for more than that.

7 ingredients, not counting hot water! And none of the ingredients is rare. All are probably sitting in your pantry or fridge right now.

Ingredients:

2 cups of boiling water

1 cup cornmeal

1 teaspoon salt

1.5 teaspoons sugar

1 Tablespoon butter

2 cups of milk (I used 2%)

2 eggs (whisked in a bowl)

2 teaspoons of baking powder

Directions:

• Preheat to 400. Grease a baking dish (I use the Corningware casserole you see in the photo) generously.
• Pour boiling water over the cornmeal and stir with a whisk to prevent lumps.
• Add the salt, sugar, butter, and milk, keep stirring (this is like 30 seconds - fast!). Add the eggs.
• Add the baking powder, stir it in, then pour the batter into the greased casserole.
• Bake for about an hour, or until brown on top. It will look like a souffle (but not so tall) and will deflate a little as it sits. Mine tends to take 50 minutes, but my oven's a bit wonky. When it's golden, pull it out - trust your instincts.

That's it! And it's really delicious - savory and full of corn flavor. Like the best polenta, but so much easier.

New Doors!

We replaced the basement door with a new glass door. It's amazing to have so much light downstairs during the day - but I keep walking past and thinking "Oh no! The door's open!"

On the landing, we replaced a mostly-solid door (it had a small fan light) with a three-quarter light. So now we can see into the yard and sunlight floods the stairway all afternoon.

So nice. If we can get the brick repointed and the front porch light replaced (in other words: put in an actual light fixture instead of a bare bulb), we'll have accomplished all our summer goals for the house. Whew!

Loving This

Oh Nom, Nom, ZZZZzzzzzz

The other day Charles served Iain his dinner, then sat down to read while the kiddo ate.

But after a while he thought, "Hmm...it's kind of quiet back there."

Well, yes. Because Iain ate his dinner, then put his head down and went straight to sleep, ketchup-face and all.

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Tomato Freakout 2011

Lots and lots of little, tiny tomatoes. The larger ones are tastier, but the smaller ones are available in glorious profusion.

Meanwhile, in carrot-land:

That's the entire harvest. Let me give you some perspective on size:

Yeah. I did something wrong, obvy. Better luck next time. Care for a tomato?

Digits

Dialog:

[We are sitting at the table, eating dessert. Mother baked fresh brownies and served them with vanilla ice cream.]

Iain [coming out of the bedroom after the end of an episode of Busytown]: "Can I have more Busytown?"

Charles: "Come try this"

Iain: "Oh, ok."

[He eats all of Charles' dessert.]

Charles: "Iain, did you enjoy that brownie and ice cream?"

Iain: "Uh, huh."

Charles: "What do you say to Grammy?"

[Looong pause]

Iain [looking at his grandmother across the table]: "Can I have some of yours?"

[Scene]

The Fence

Above, the fence before. Our dilemma was this: how can we justify a new fence? We hated the color and the toothy look. But the previous owners installed this fence and it's only about 2 years old. To rip out a practically-new fence seems wasteful and profligate. What to do?

Our solution was a face lift for the fence. We asked Dylan the Fence Guru to add trim to the top, sort of like adding crown moulding to a new condo. On the inside, that's all you see (above). But on the outside he added a few strips of trim to add some depth to the fence and to give it a flatter, more square appearance.

Above, you can see the extra trim and the way it makes the fence look more like our house - a low, prairie bungalow. Below, a closeup of the trim Dylan added. You can see that it's basically just a mask over the original fence.

Then we turned to the side yard. Recall that our yard is shaped like an "L." Behind the house is the short end of that "L," and Charles suggested making it into a private garden. Eventually, we plan to install a hot tub on the concrete pad back there. But even before that, making this portion of the yard private (ie, fenced and gated) allows us to keep the dogs back there. Dogs in nook = no poop in the main yard. Hallelujah!

Above, the pergola in progress, with part of the previous fence removed. Those are the steps down to the basement.

What replaced all that? Below, the pergola and fence to the side yard. I took these photos tonight at dusk (in an excess of zeal to get them to you) so it looks darker than it does in bright sunshine.

We employed the ever-useful interwebs to find a fence design. Then Dylan modified it for our bizarre, wonky space (No two panels are exactly alike because the space was all tilty, turny, wide and narrow and it had to parallel the garage and the house and the fence. Poor Dylan!).

Eventually, we plan to plant some interesting things back there (like maybe hops to climb the pergola?). In the short term, the dogs have a private space away from the street. We thought they might bark less, but in fact they're so irritated at being separated from the sidewalk that they bark to get back inside almost immediately. Hmph.

Below, the fence proper. Stained to match the roof of our front porch, the fence is much, much darker than it was. We had to go dark in order to neutralize the incredibly red stain already on the fence. But dark has its virtues. This fence will absorb (and thus, radiate) more heat in winter, keeping the trees happier. It also looks a lot better against the red of our brick house and the sage green of the trim paint.
And I like the way the trees pop against it, too. At first, Iain didn't like it and said so. Repeatedly. But now he likes to point out "my new fence."

Freakout

So I'm on the phone with Miriam, chatting about the day's events.

When...

She starts screaming and freaking out and the house is apparently shaking. It's a four-story house, y'all. That's a lot to shake.

Once outside, once the world again stabilized, things calmed down. But she commented, "I'm so glad I don't live in California." Yes, I think that would be a bad idea, given how much she really, really hated that earthquake.

5.9. Centered in Virginia. You don't experience that every day.

"I Say Interesting Things"

So announced Iain tonight.

Anyway, tonight was the annual block party. Somehow, I found myself part of the Triumvirate of Deciders last week. As a result I spent this afternoon shaping hamburger patties and making cucumber pickles (sunomono) for the crowd. My co-conspirators brought sausages, condiments, tables, chairs, linens, paperware, and a PA system complete with a real, live crooner. He sang Sinatra and Jimmy Buffet, so you can't beat that.

And sure enough, at 6 o'clock people began to come out of their houses and join us for grilled meat (courtesy of Charles, who cooked off about 60 hamburgers and hotdogs), assorted salads, fruit and chips. My neighbor used the PA system to get people to sign an emergency contact list and to think about whether they want to petition City Hall for a residential parking zone.

Even Iain got in on the action. He played trucks, trucks, trucks with three little boys from our 'hood, and I think he might even get a playdate with one of them next week.

I dribbled sausage juice on my shirt, of course.

But stay tuned! The fence is complete and tomorrow I will photograph it after Iain's morning playdate and before his afternoon playdate. His social calendar might require us to hire a secretary.

Summer Garden - August

Above, the late-summer garden. Note the empty spaces.

The Herbs are great. Curly parsley, sage, thyme, lemon verbena, tarragon, and rosemary all thrived this year. The blueberries seem kind of meh, but I'm not sure what the problem is and I'm waiting and seeing on that.

These are the blue planters from the backyard. With help from Iain's Nana, I replanted them in early July and they're thriving. It's a big improvement on the conifers I planted in spring (they died, so that can't be called a success).

But the veggie garden as a whole is about 50/50 this year. The herbs, tomatoes, lettuce and edible peas (snow/Sugar Snap) worked well. Lettuce was a huge success, in fact. But the summer was a challenge, partly because I didn't really know what to plant for hot weather. I put in some cucumbers and bell pepper plants, but they grew without setting any fruit. And you know what happened to the carrots. Ahem.

For next year, I need to figure out what to plant for hot days and when to plant it. I'm thinking bush beans and maybe even melons. I avoided those this year because they take up so much room. But it would seem that I have plenty of space. So.

Tomatoes! (But No Carrots)

So the carrot experience: not a success. It was my first time growing carrots, and while I know they didn't have any trouble penetrating the soil (raised beds!), something must have gone wrong.

The cherry tomatoes are doing great, though. They're covered in tomatoes, many ripening, and some have already gone to their reward (in my belly). All the rain we've gotten this summer really helped, but I also attribute some success to the seedlings we bought. They're heirlooms grown from seed by the local community garden. In other words: grown by someone other than me.

So far, the herbs, tomatoes, and peas (sugar and snow) have been a great success. Oh, and the AMAZING incredible lettuce, too. Spinach, chard, and carrots are a bust. The bell pepper plants are doing well, but I'm not harvesting anything. So we'll have to wait for a verdict in that case.

There are big changes afoot in our garden, though. Stay tuned for photos.

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