#Dessertfordinner

Oliver and I had a peach and raspberry pie for dinner. It was a disappointing day for several reasons, most unbloggable.

The pie made up for it. Plus, there was no sugar in it and only pieces of top crust so we felt moderately virtuous.

Merriment

So, last night I made gnocchi with Italian sausage and Savoy cabbage. I'm using this very cool food service called Blue Apron which you should check out all on your own as this is not a sponsored post nor an infomercial (I only hawk friends' books and creative endeavors). That's Saint Carmen in the background, helping with Sophie. When the boys sat down to eat, I learned that they had made a bet on whom could keep their hands the straightest throughout the meal for the longest time.

They set the table that way. They got drinks from the fridge that way, including ice. They sprinkled parmesan cheese that way, and they ate and drank that way. They also laughed huge guffaws throughout the dinner while Carmen, Sophie and I shook our heads and occasionally burst out laughing, too.

Reader, you know how you wonder what dark secrets lie behind families' seeming normalcy?

There is no darkness here, and there might not even be light.

There is idiocy of the merriest proportion.

When Oliver started screaming that his hand was stuck and then, for real, started to nearly cry because of the pain, when I stopped drinking my 22 oz. bottle of hard cider long enough to rub his cramped hands vigorously, Henry declared himself the winner.

Later, I had to lie down to digest all the merriment and my 22 oz. hard cider.

How lovely are my branches.

A Whisky Sour and a Birthday Eve Dinner

Emily, Sylvia, Leah and I have been taking one another out for birthday lunches or dinner for over ten years, now, and tonight they took me to a fabulous new restaurant around the corner called Republique. I got there early and sipped an amazing whiskey sour that had whipped egg whites in it. I know that's standard and authentic, but I'd never had it and can I tell you that that was one outrageous drink? The rest of our meal was outstanding -- we ordered so many dishes that I couldn't begin to remember and do justice to them here. There were salads and sushi and soft shell crab and vegetables tempura and rich pasta carbonara and crusty bread with salted Normandy butter. We laughed and talked and caught up for several hours  and ate so much that we turned down dessert before rolling out and back home.

Thank you, ladies, for a beautiful evening!

A New Tradition: Sunday Selfie

Bad-Ass

Perhaps, Defeated Ass

Cry Uncle Ass

(fleeing the ship momentarily for dinner with girlfriends. Wish you were here.)

Brother "Conversation," No. 457***

The Brothers were instructed to make dinner -- cook the chicken for the tacos and dispense the sides -- salsa, grated cheese, shredded lettuce, refried beans. Oliver is a Master Griller (I'm not joking), and Henry - well -- he always looks glamorous. When faced with the plastic top covering the container of salsa, this conversation ensued. Add in irony and humor, because that was the general tone.

Henry: Mom, how do I open the salsa?

Me: Henry, you get a small knife and pierce through that plastic and then peel it off.

Henry: I'm gonna starve in college, right?

Oliver: Henry, you're so bad in the kitchen.

Henry: Oliver, shut up or I'll kill you.

***The word "conversation" in quotes is intentional.

School

Forgive my lack of posting today, but I'm bogged down in reading aloud tracts about impetigo and other infectious diseases, courtesy of 7th Grade Science. The reading aloud is courtesy of Dyslexia. I would educate you on the finer points of blisters, crusty, moist scabs and the attendant itchiness, but instead I'm lying down, face-first on my bed while the violin plays plaintive and I restrain myself from telling the Big O that it's all a bunch of bullshit, that he should flee school all together and gather ye rosebuds while you may. Dinner tonight is tacos with all the fixings. A shot of vodka, too.

Looking through windows

I brought my birthday zodiacal month (Virgo) to a close last night with a terrific dinner at a local wine bar. My friends L and C treated me to wine tasting, mussels, shrimp, small plates of olives, crunchy chickpeas and smoked salmon and a few spectacular desserts. The fact that we sat right next to a woman with the Loudest Voice and Most Obnoxious Laugh in the Universe did not stop our own wonderful conversation, and I am once again filled with gratitude at the blessings of friendship.

I'm off to the first baseball game of the season. It's Fall Ball for Oliver. I'm sure that the haircut, color and blow-out I had yesterday will stand me well for another season of sitting in the bleachers at baseball fields in the Valley. If only sitting in the bleachers of baseball fields was slenderizing and brought peace to the soul.

What's going on with you today?

One Night Dream

Those two girls (because we decided we prefer the term to ladies) came to my house yesterday afternoon, picked me up and drove me down to Manhattan Beach. We checked into a swanky hipster hotel with a rooftop jacuzzi.

We sat there for a few hours, drinking champagne and then beer and nibbling on calamari. When the sun started going down we went back to our room and changed for dinner. Here's our room:

Can you believe?

We walked into town and down charming little beach streets.

Although a tad on the precious side, here's the house I chose to buy for my alternative life:

We walked down to the beach and then along the beach until the sun set:

Then we walked back up to a wonderful restaurant, were seated and champagne was presented, a bottle of Dom Perignon from a friend who couldn't be there. The view of the ocean was spectacular:

We ate mussels and french fries, burrata and heirloom tomatoes, and I had wild sea bass for a main course. We drank champagne and had tiny sugared donut holes dipped in butter and jam for dessert. We then walked -- or rolled -- back to the hotel. The girls got into bed, and I took a bath. I think you need to see a photo of that, right?

Ha!

Seriously, though, that bath was awesome. I sprinkled in some bath salts and waited for the tub to fill up. You can't see it in the photo, but the tub was rigged for what the hipsters called Chromotherapy.  Evidently the pulsating lights -- both in the tub and overhead -- triggered certain feelings. Pink for romance, blue for tranquility, yellow for creativity, green for whatever, red for passion.We got a kick out of it -- at one point I slid the panel open and peered out at my friends who were reading in that bed. I told them that I was feeling POWER (that was the purple light). I settled for blue and relaxed for nearly an hour.

This morning, we woke up, ate a small breakfast and then I went PADDLEBOARDING! The instructor was about as cute as I could have imagined -- a dark-haired, dark-skinned surfer boy -- and he patiently instructed us (mainly me, because I'd never done it) on how to kneel, paddle a bit and then stand up. The first time I stood up, I kind of freaked out a little bit and had to go back to the kneeling position, but when we paddled out to a glassier area, he made me stand up and from then on to the end of the hour, I DID IT! There were sea lions barking and moaning on the buoys, we saw sting rays below us, the sky was hazy and peaceful, and I did it. Despite my feet going numb, I felt good and think I might be hooked to do it again. I wish I had a photo to show you, but then again, maybe I'm glad that I don't. I'd prefer you think of me looking like this:

I'm back home, rested, relaxed and energized. I'm still 49 years old but very much looking forward to being 50.

Next, mermaid tattoo?

Tequila and hot dogs

I told the boys that they were in charge of dinner tonight, that there were really good hot dogs from The Husband's butcher in the fridge and that we had french fries in the freezer. Get busy, I told them, and don't forget to make a salad.

I wandered in to check how things were going and was able to catch Oliver in a dance around the kitchen. Turn the volume up.

Laugh Out Loud

Fondue and Frogs

We ate fondue from Trader Joe's last night (thank you, Jesus, for Trader Joe's!) with crusty bread and a green salad. I wish I could say the conversation was interesting, but it consisted of both boys telling some inane joke using the word sausage so many times in you can imagine gross ways, that I finally croaked out STOP! And I mean croaked, because my voice is completely gone. The webinar I moderated the other day took the last audible sound out of me, so now I croak. I'd say it sounds husky and sexy, but it doesn't. And I can't yell at my kids. I guess I'll have to start spanking them. :)

Here's a poem that my dear friend Tanya sent me the other day. It's a perfect one for the season:

In Dark December 

            ~ Ralph Murre

Whatever you believe,
whatever you do not,
there are sacred rites
you must perform
in dark December.
Do this for me:
Pull together
the kitchen table,
the folding table,
and that odd half-oval
usually covered
with bills and broken pencils
and red ink.
Pull together family and friends,
cool cats and stray dogs alike.
Turn off everything
except colored lights,
the roaster,
the toaster, the stove.
Cook.  Bake.  Eat.
Yes, even the fruitcake.
Eat, crowded around
those assembled tables
with mismatched chairs.
Reach so far
in your sharing
that you hold the sun
in one hand,
the stars in the other,
and no one between is hungry.
Now walk together,
talk together,
be together
on these darkest nights.
Give and forgive.
Light candles and ring bells.
Sing the old songs.
Tell the old stories
one more time,
leaving nothing out,
leaving no one out
in the long night,
leaving nothing wrong
that you can make right. 

Dinner Talk

Not my kitchen -- from Conran's Kitchen Book

Some years ago my mother, I think, gave us a little Lucite box with a stack of cards, each of which had a "dinner conversation starter." I think I rolled my eyes at the little box and stashed it on a bookshelf, but when Henry pulled it out the other evening and began asking me questions from the cards, I realized that it was actually a pretty cool thing. The questions are all open-ended and interesting, particularly helpful for those kids who might answer all questions with a typical Uh Huh or I don't know. I learned that my sons would rather be spanked than grounded -- who knew? -- and that Henry would rather be a famous athlete than scientist. Henry also stated that he'd rather have a teacher who was less talented and more fun than a good but strict teacher. He answered that the times he has been most afraid were when Sophie fell during seizures and hurt herself. The boys learned that I have never cheated and that it's harder for me to get exercise than it is to eat healthy. They also learned that one of my greatest dreams is to see the Earth hanging in space from the window of a rocket.

As always, Oliver had the funniest answer to the question How will you know when you are a grownup? 

His response:

I'll know I'm a grown-up when the ladies start hitting on me.

I honestly don't know where the boy gets it!

Coping Strategy #1

Let Dinner "Go"

Menu

Cheese Dip made with processed cheese and a can of Rotel

(think about college boyfriend, love of life while melting in pot on stove)

Tortilla Chips

Spinach Salad with Crumbled White Stilton and Cranberries, Candied Pecans, Croutons and Vinaigrette

Chocolate Milk

Result:

Children are flabbergasted: This is dinner? Awesome!