Playdate

Iain loves young ladies. One of his favorites lives nearby (and, in LA terms, nearby is an hour away). She came down here for a playdate on Wednesday.

One reason we like the LB place is that a park, library, police station, and city hall sit right across the street. So over there we went and the Young Lady and Iain played like maniacs for an hour while the grownups debated education policy.

Before that: Legos! Books! Plants vs. Zombies! iPad! Building a barricade in the hallway and giggling while trying to distract the old people with a "dance performance."

After: chocolate hippo cookies, juice, a public reading by our resident Reader-in-Chief, and a loving sendoff.

We can't wait until June. She's promised a pool-related playdate then. Iain is excited by the prospect.

Chalkboard

This door conceals the A/C unit. 

In our house, we use a small, magnetic chalk board to keep track of grocery lists, phone numbers, and items that can be easily forgotten (thank-you notes, usually).

So here we wanted the same.

Unfortunately, it turns out that magnetic paint doesn't really work. I mean...it works ok. You can get the magnet to stick to it. But if you wanted to stick something to the door using the magnet? Not really.

Chalkboard paint, though? That stuff is great. Two days of modest craftiness (as in: paint a coat, go on with your life, six hours later paint another coat, go to bed. Next day: pull off the tape and enjoy!) yielded a great surface for recording our schedule and to-dos.

Bean Bag (and other stuff)

Iain received a gift certificate to Pottery Barn Kids from his grandparents. He wanted a bean bag. Charles stood for a long time in front of the Darth Vader embroidered pillow and matching sheet set but Iain wanted a bean bag.

He also chose the cover. Madras, y'all. Because nothing goes with superhero mask sheets and an aquamarine bookcase like madras. It's all color all the time around here.

We've spent our last few days in shopping marathons, seeking not just furniture but the many, many little things necessary for a functioning life. Today, in search of a plug for Iain's bathtub, we also acquired cookie sheets, kitchen towels (and a rack), a better potholder, a knife block (sorta - one of those boxes with cork sheets in it), and some coasters (also cork - a theme today).

Oh, and we went to the Lego store. [Iain's brain exploded] [see photo above]

Furniture Shopping

Our casa in LB. Empty. So, so empty. Note the child eating his brekkie at the kitchen counter, sitting in our office chair. Very classy.

So we bought some stuff. Above, a credenza to lift up the television and hold some electronic stuff. It's not old. It's brand new. Because (as Elizabeth pointed out) our modern A/V needs don't really suit older media consoles.

Next, a pair of chairs. Also new, though made to look old. New upholstery, though. They're darker and more tweedy in person than this photo suggests.

We bought a sofa. I failed to snap a photo with my phone. Boo. I was distracted. Partly, I blame the pretty little side table above. Partly, I blame the rambunctious little tater tot below. Holy Toledo, Batman. That kid can wiggle. You try keeping track of the wiggle in antique and furniture stores all over LA.

He tried on a biker jacket. Under duress. Should I be pleased that he didn't like it, or sad? He wanted to pick out a sparkly dress for me, though, and a cowboy hat for himself. I'm pretty happy that the one item he really, really wanted to buy was a vintage typewriter (the kind with a carousel of letters that pop up when you hit a key).

The furniture arrives after lunch tomorrow. We'll finally have something to sit on. Still to find: a dining room table and chairs, a carpet, a coffee table, side tables for the bedrooms, and some lighting.

Not much, right? Easy peasy.

Menu

For the very first time. Ever: standing rib roast.

I had it, once, at a friend's house in California. It came off the grill and while it was "resting" we stood in the kitchen and picked bits off the edges. At least twenty people stood around upstairs, drinking, talking, and nibbling other dishes. Unlucky for them.

So I'm making one, hoping I can manage a result nearly as good.

Also: broccoli, asparagus, and latkes (made by Mother, so doubtless delicious). Christmas Eve is the last night of Hannukah so we're beef&potato-ing as an homage to both occasions.

Chicken Marbella

On November 22, friends joined us for dinner. These friends have three children so our combined families require food for 8 people. I thought I'd try Sheila Lukins' famous recipe Chicken Marbella.

Essentially, it's chicken pieces braised in white wine, olive oil, herbs, garlic (as in a head of pureed garlic), prunes, capers, and olives. Very tasty but because the prunes and olives are whole people who don't like such things can just pick them out.

I went to Whole Foods for my chicken because it's nearby and I figured I could get a better product. Remember, please that this shopping excursion occurred on the Sunday before Thanksgiving. A high-traffic time for groceries, you'd think. Lots of people. Wanting food. Because that's what groceries do. (sell food).

But you'd have thought, based on the level of readiness at WF, that it was a Tuesday in February.

What was in the butcher's case? NOTHING. Photo below. Not that the case is empty. As in: empty.

There's more. When I asked for chicken pieces, I went round and round with the butcher about it. How much? He had no advice to offer. Thighs and breasts? No opinion. Finally, I just told him how many I wanted and he popped into the back area.

He emerged with two plastic-wrapped parcels (the kind that regular groceries put into the meat section) which he pulled open. They had been frozen. He then weighed out the pieces I wanted and wrapped them loosely in paper (loosely wrapping chicken is the best way because then the juices leak out onto other foods, flavoring them).

While I watched him do this, I read the orange sticker below:

So true. So, so true.

Then I went looking for the other items on my list. Each and every aisle was blocked. Every aisle.

Above, a dolley with boxes. Below,  stacked crates and a cart full of broken-down boxes.

Boxes. More Boxes. Just laying on the floor.

Was anyone unloading them? No. Was this because the staff were quite busy with customers? No. they were, mostly, standing around the checkouts and customer-service desk, chatting.

I was...not amused. But I had chicken! And prunes (more prunes than anyone would ever need but they sold only one size and at that point my mood had turned sorta sour so I didn't think I should go anywhere else).

I made the chicken. It was good. I followed the recipe almost exactly (bought the wrong olives at WF so I had to use a slightly different olive) and the one thing I'd say is that another 20 minutes in the oven wouldn't be amiss. Otherwise, delicious.

Me, checking the dish by giving it the evil squinty eye. If it fails to flinch you know it's done.

Recipe.

Wow

So let's say you're working on an activity for students. You'd like to use a cartoon by an American political cartoonist. Thomas Nast, for example.

You use Google to find the cartoon you want but most scans omit the caption. It matters. So you look for a better scan.

Yay! The Library of Congress has one. Really hi-res, too. Double Yay! Except...when you click on the link, what do you get?

That's right. A massively pixelated, unreadable, ugly photocopy. Totally impossible to use.

The LOC is a beautiful place. I'm sure its collections hold impressive, rare, valuable materials. But this is just embarrassing.