eight is great

Dear Garrett,

You are taking your morning nap right now. You are so precious when you sleep. When I sneak into your room to check on you, cursing the creaking floors as I do so, I smile when I find you sprawled spread eagle, as if you collapsed from exhaustion after wrestling with the blankets, or curled up under the covers with your Lovey clasped in your hands. I'd love to continue to watch you sweetly slumber, but I think instead I'll take advantage of these few quiet moments to write you your letter. It is not the 30th, and therefore the day you officially turn eight months old, but rather February 29th, which I'll take because this is about as good as it will ever get.

You are such a big boy! You sit up very well now, and I can set you down to play with your toys without a pillow propped behind you to catch should you fall. As strong as you've become, you still sometimes topple, but you are getting quite good at catching yourself before your head smacks these old wood floors. You are not crawling yet, but you occasionally give me signs that you are interested in learning: you inadvertently scoot backwards and around in circles, often in an attempt to reach the toys you've pushed beyond your reach.

You love to play. You sing and babble to yourself, and apparently have much to talk about. You've discovered how fun it is to blow raspberries, and you are absolutely delighted by your mirrored reflection. Currently your favorite toy is your stacking donuts. Just like your dad, I often catch you contemplatively twirling your beautiful blond hair. While you are generally a quiet boy, you have learned how joyous it can be to belt out screams and shrieks of excitement when you are especially happy. Though these squeals always startle me initially, they ultimately make me want to join right in with you and your fun. You are still an incredibly ticklish boy. I am consistently uncovering new ticklish spots (this month it's been the bottoms of your feet and the backs of your thighs), and I'm sorry that I so often pin you to the floor and tickle you 'til we're both out of breath, but I so love to hear your happy, contagious giggles.

You don't have any teeth yet, but that hasn't hindered your love of food. You pant with anxious excitement when I pull out your bottle, and you scarf down your solids. I'm so pleased that, while you're still afraid of the blender, you enjoy the fruits and vegetables I prepare for you using that appliance. With a little patient persistence, you've come to love foods (like peas) that you initially pulled faces at. And even though mealtimes have become rather drawn out because you are so easily distracted by your surroundings, you eat heartily and, as evidenced by your eagerly wide open little mouth, enjoy doing so. Your love for ice water has only grown greater. Your dad and I can hardly pour a glass for ourselves without you reaching for a shared sip! We give you your own sippy cup, which you've taken to very well, but a part of you seems to be happier if you're gulping out of a glass.

You are captivated and enchanted when you watch other children play, and I look forward to the day you are mobile enough to join them. I am happy to see that, at least so far, you are not as shy as your mama - though you are very good at burying your head in my shoulders while occasionally peeking back out long enough to pull flirtatious grins at cooing adults (like Peggy at the laundromat). When you are tired of the attention, and tired of being awake, you start to drop hints that you're ready again for a nap: first you and everyone around you enjoys your glorious second-wind happiness; then a few confused whines escape you; and finally, when you begin to bury your head in my chest and wearily rub it back and forth, I know you're begging for some sleep in your crib. And so I put you down, give you your binky and tuck your Lovey between your arms, pull the blankets over your shoulders, and give you a kiss. After a moment spent admiring how preciously you sleep, I creep out of the room, cursing the creaking floors as I do so. You are beautiful, and I love you, my sweet boy.

Love,
Mama

children's reading list

At the request of a few friends, I've put together a list of books I've long loved (as well as a sprinkling of recent discoveries) that are or will eventually be in my library. They are in no particular order and if, in the very likely event that I accidentally leave a few out, I will add them in as I think of them. Feel free to share your favorites in the comments section.

I mostly have my mother to thank for my knowledge, love, and possession of the majority of these books. In addition, I must also credit my own bookstore browsing, the great and powerful amazon.com, Reading Rainbow, grade school book orders, and recommendations from friends and teachers.

I think Judy Blume was right when she said, "Some books you never forget. Some characters become your friends for life."

Enjoy the list! Use it well.

Picture Books

• Caps for Sale by Esphyr Slobodkina
  
• The Little House by Virginia Lee Burton
• Mike Mulligan and his Steam Shovel by Virginia Lee Burton
  
• Katy and the Big Snow by Virginia Lee Burton
• Pierre by Maurice Sendak
• Chicken Soup with Rice by Maurice Sendak
• Swimmy by Leo Lionni
• Frederick by Leo Lionni
• Owl at Home by Arnold Lobel
• Days with Frog and Toad by Arnold Lobel
• Frog and Toad Together by Arnold Lobel
• Frog and Toad are Friends by Arnold Lobel
• Frog and Toad All Year by Arnold Lobel
• Apricot ABC by Miska Miles
• Miss Rumphius by Barbara Cooney
• Rumpelstiltskin retold by Edith H. Tarcov, pictures by Edward Gorey
• Nana Upstairs and Nana Downstairs by Tomie de Paola
• Now One Foot, Now the Other by Tomie de Paola
  
• George and Martha by James Marshall
• George and Martha Rise and Shine by James Marshall
• The Mysterious Tadpole by Steven Kellogg
• The Little Red Lighthouse and the Great Gray Bridge by Hildegarde H. Swift
  
• The Saggy Baggy Elephant by K. and B. Jackson, pictures by Tenggren
• The Clown of God by Tomie de Paola
• "I Can't," Said the Ant by Polly Cameron
• Imogene's Antlers by David Small
• Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs by Judi Barrett
• Each Peach, Pear, Plum by Janet and Allan Ahlberg
• Jumanji by Chris van Allsburg
• The Day Jimmy's Boa Ate the Wash by Trinka Hakes Noble, pictures by Steven Kellogg
• Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst
• Blueberries for Sal by Robert McCloskey
• Corduroy by Don Freeman
• A Pocket for Corduroy by Don Freeman
  
• Round Robin by Jack Kent
• Madeline by Ludwig Bemelmans
• Ira Sleeps Over by Bernard Waber
• The Story of Babar the Little Elephant by Jean de Brunhoff
• The Story of Ferdinand by Munro Leaf
• The Mitten by Alvin Tresselt
• Harry the Dirty Dog by Gene Zion
• Harry by the Sea by Gene Zion
• I Was Walking Down the Road by Sarah E. Barchas
• The Do-Something Day by Joe Lasker
• The Egg Tree by Katherine Milhous
• When I Was Young in the Mountains by Cynthia Rylant
• An Anteater Named Arthur by Bernard Waber
• Pig Pig Grows Up by David McPhail
• There's a Nightmare in My Closet by Mercer Mayer
• The Runaway Bunny by Margaret Wise Brown
• Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown
• Sylvester and the Magic Pebble by William Steig
• Miss Nelson is Missing! by Harry Allard and James Marshall
• A Bargain for Francis by Russell and Lillian Hoban
• A Birthday for Francis by Russell and Lillian Hoban
• A Baby Sister for Francis by Russell and Lillian Hoban
• Best Friends for Francis by Russell and Lillian Hoban
• Bony-Legs by Joanna Cole
• Amelia Bedelia by Peggy Parish
• The House on East 88th Street by Bernard Waber
• Loveable Lyle by Bernard Waber
• The Story About Ping by Marjorie Flack and Kurt Wiese
• Freight Train by Donald Crews
• Round Trip by Ann Jonas
• Are You My Mother by P.D. Eastman
• The Carrot Seed by Ruth Krauss
• The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein
• The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams
• Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak
• Make Way for Ducklings by Robert McCloskey
• Time of Wonder by Robert McCloskey
• The Story of Holly and Ivy by Rumer Godden
• The Snowman by Raymond Briggs
• The Polar Express by Chris van Allsburg
• The Three Billy Goats Gruff by Paul Galdone
• Phooey! by Marc Rosenthal
• Curious George by Margaret and H. A. Rey
• The Snowy Day by Ezra Jack Keats
• Dr. Seuss's ABC by Dr. Seuss
• The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Seuss
• Green Eggs and Ham by Dr. Seuss
• The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle
• any books by Peter Spier
• Policeman Small by Lois Lenski
• Diary of a Worm by Doreen Cronin
• A Chair for My Mother by Vera B. Williams
• Mufaro's Beautiful Daughters by John Steptoe
• Runaway Marie-Louise by Natalie Savage Carlson
• Tales of Peter Rabbit and His Friends by Beatrix Potter
• The Random House Book of Poetry for Children ed. by Arnold Lobel
• Rain Makes Applesauce by Julian Scheer
  

Children's and Young Adult Novels

• Charlotte's Web by E. B. White
• Caddie Woodlawn by Carol Ryrie Brink
• A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett
• The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett
• Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm by Kate Douglass Wiggin
• The Bronze Bow by Elizabeth George Spear
• the Nicholas stories by René Goscinny and Jean-Jacques Sempé
• the Betsy-Tacy series by Maud Hart Lovelace
• the Ramona books by Beverly Cleary
• the Henry Huggins books by Beverly Cleary
• Ellen Tebbits and Otis Spofford by Beverly Cleary
• Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt
• Abel's Island by William Steig
• Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie
• Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech
• Love That Dog by Sharon Creech
• Strawberry Girl by Lois Lenski
• Stepping on the Cracks by Mary Downing Hahn
• Holes by Louis Sachar
• Harriet the Spy by Louise Fitzhugh
• Blue Willow by Doris Gates
• Long Ago in Oregon by Claudia Lewis
• The Boxcar Children series by Gertrude Chandler Warner
• The Borrowers by Mary Norton
• Half Magic (as well as the rest of the Magic series) by Edward Eager
• The Courage of Sarah Noble by Alice Dalgliesh
• Joyful Noise: Poems for Two Voices by Paul Fleischman
• The Good Master by Kate Seredy
• The Hundred Dresses by Eleanor Estes
• The Moffats by Eleanor Estes
• The Giver by Lois Lowry
• the Mrs. Piggle Wiggle books by Betty MacDonald
• Mr. Popper's Penguins by Richard and Florence Atwater
• Out of the Dust by Karen Hesse
• The Trouble with Jenny's Ear by Oliver Butterworth
• The View from Saturday by E. L. Konigsburg
• From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E. L. Konigsburg
• The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster
• Baby by Patricia MacLachlan
• Journey by Patricia MacLachlan
• Sarah, Plain and Tall by Patricia MacLachlan
• Skylark by Patricia MacLachlan
• James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl
• Matilda by Roald Dahl
• Princess Academy by Shannon Hale
• Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli
• A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith
• Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
• Caroline and Her Kettle Named Maud by Miriam E. Mason
• My Father's Dragon by Ruth Stiles Gannett
• Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery
• Emily of New Moon by L. M. Montgomery
  

causing a scene

So apparently there's this group based in New York City called Improv Everywhere (motto: "We cause scenes"). According to their website, the group "causes scenes of chaos and joy in public places," and to date they have "executed over 70 missions."

What sort of missions, you ask?

For starters, there was Frozen Grand Central where over 200 agents froze in place at the exact same time for five whole minutes on the main concourse of Grand Central Station, causing much confused amazement:

Then there's also the annual No Pants mission. In January, for the seventh time, approximately 900 agents rode three major NYC subway lines sans pants. Sadly (or happily), I missed it. But I certainly got a good chuckle out of the video report:

I haven't watched any of their other mission videos, but, after watching this clip from the Today Show, I continue to be intrigued. Just skimming through their Mission page piques my curiosity and makes me want to waste more time on the internet.

They seem to welcome new agents, if you're interested. Acting's really not my thing, and wearing pants really is, so becoming an Improv Everywhere agent isn't anywhere near my priority list. But I'm curious, would YOU join in?

car envy

This weekend I came down with a sorry case of car envy:

Symptoms:
- Pangs of regret over selling the car you had planned to drive 'til it died
- Twinges of sad fondness when remembering the adventures that car took you on
- Eyes which unconsciously well up when watching a Toyota Corolla commercial
- An anxiousness to cure that antsy itch by getting in a car and driving away somewhere
- Heavy, hum-drum, stuck feeling when you can't
- Weariness from walking and frostbite (or at least the threat thereof) of doing so in the cold, snowy, wet, yucky, gray outdoors

Things to Keep in Mind When Self-Treating:
- The car had a check engine light issue when we sold it anyway
- I have absolutely no desire to drive in this crazy city
- I don't have to pay for car insurance or car maintenance
- Rising gas prices are something I'm immune to stressing over
- No parking? No problem
- Living in New York is a grand adventure, an experience I wouldn't trade for anything
- Warm days will come to stay before too much longer which will make foot travel less tedious
- And in the meantime, the subways and buses aren't such a bad option

Don't worry, guys. This bout of car envy was relatively mild; I'm already on the road to recovery. It's beautiful and warm outside today; my walk to the grocery store was sunny and enjoyable. It's the end of February and summer really isn't too far off. So, little car, I still miss you and the suburban life you came with, but good things can't last forever because I have to make room for the great things that are always just around the corner.

endearing genetics

If I had to pick one word to describe Blake's hair, it would be tousled. Not truly messy, just tousled, as if fingers have been twirled through it. In fact, that is often the reason for its sticking this way and that way and every which way. He plays with it when he's thinking hard, when he's nervous, and when he can't quite think of the right thing to say. As if by an invisible thread, his hand is automatically and absentmindedly lured to the top his head to finger his thick, brown hair.

I'm told that his mother can attest to the fact that he's been playing with his hair since he was very young. When we were students at BYU, I'd frequently find him buried among the writings of ancient and not-so-ancient philosophers on the fourth floor of the library, one hand turning the pages of Plato or Merleau-Ponty, the other twirling hair on the top of his head. In fact, I used to be able to tell how long he'd been studying by how tousled his hair was. He also twirled it when nerves consumed him during the beginning of our courtship. A hand magnetically attached to the top of his head meant he liked me and wanted to ask me out again, but wasn't quite sure how.

Blake has grown up. He is no longer a student, but a working New York City professional who is trying to kick the childish hair-twirling habit. Our four-plus years of friendship have naturally calmed his nerves and he doesn't need fingers running through his hair think of what to say to me next. Consequently his hair isn't tousled as often anymore. I kind of miss it.

Luckily, though, it appears that this endearing little habit is genetic: Garrett, like I have mentioned before, has also started to twirl his hair. And, with the exception that he seems to prefer the tufts behind his right ear over those on the top, he does it just like his dad. It's the most adorable thing I've seen him do, especially when, in an effort to grab a chunk of hair, he misses and ends up flicking his ear. As he was waiting patiently for me to finish preparing his breakfast yesterday morning, I caught him in the act...and happily had my camera nearby:

sometimes i just can't resist

Good heavens, this boy is fun to tickle!

holy snow, batman!

I thought we were going to get away with a relatively un-snowy winter, but apparently Mother Nature has decided to make up for some lost time. After our local weathercasters finished one-upping their snow accumulation predictions from an expected 2-4 inches to an ultimate 6-9 inches in the city and non-stop snow for the last 12 hours or so, we've ended up with, I'm told, about 6 inches total.

But apparently I'm brave or crazy or both because I didn't let this stop me from getting out of the house and over a few blocks to the weekly playgroup. After all, if I can handle walking through waist-deep snow in sub-zero temperatures after Muncie's big blizzard last February, this would be a cakewalk.

So I bundled both Garrett and myself up and off we went. It was beautiful outside. So quiet, so white, so still -- so serene. And, happily, it was not too cold. Just snowy, just wet. So we had a lovely walk, made even lovelier by the fact that most of our route had already been shoveled. I fully intended to snap some photos, but because it was still snowing pretty heavily and I didn't want to be the one responsible for water-logging our camera, I didn't. (My friend, Rachel, however, caught a bit of the beauty before it turned too trampled and slushy.)

Of course I was the only one who showed up to the playgroup, but that was fine. I got to spend some quality time chatting with my friend, Kari, and her two adorably energetic girls (seriously, her daughter, Hazel, is the biggest reason nursery every Sunday is so entertaining). By the time we walked home, most of the snow on the sidewalk had turned to wet, puddly slush, worn warm by the many feet that had already trampled through it.

Back home and dried off, I snapped a few pictures from our windows. The first is a street view and the second is of the back of the building. Like I said, it's not nearly as pretty as it was earlier this morning, but use your imaginations (and, for those of you in Utah and other snow-ridden places, your experience), and I'm sure you'll get the idea.


Apparently the NYC Parks Commission is providing free sledding and hot chocolate in parks throughout the five boroughs today, which sounds like a lot of fun, but maybe for another time (like when Garrett's old enough to enjoy something like that). I feel like I've fulfilled my duty of going out to experience the snow, and now I fully intend to spend the rest of the day curled up on the couch with hot cocoa and books (or spread out on the floor with Garrett and his toys, engaged in a tickle fest, as the case may in reality be), enjoying it from indoors. And isn't that one of the most satisfying things about snowy days: the getting to relax and warm up indoors after having a good time outside playing in it?

But before I go, I have to dish with you the fabulous deal I got yesterday. I stopped in Payless to try to figure out exactly what shoe size Garrett wears (he's a 2, in case you were dying to know) and found the most adorable pair of blue and white velcro sneakers. I've been on the lookout for velcro shoes for him because his current pair have laces and I'll tell you what: infant, or even toddler, shoes should not have laces on account of the kicking that invariably occurs while trying to get them tied. The sticker price said they were $15, which, whoa, is too much to spend on a tiny pair of shoes for a baby who's not even walking yet. But then I saw the pink version of the same shoe marked at $7.99. I had the salesclerk price check the blue ones and sure enough, they were ringing up cheap: only $7 on clearance. They had them in size 2 AND size 3, so I thought, well, if it's gonna be essentially buy-one-get-one free, I might as well get them both, one for now and one for later, so I went to the counter to purchase them. Only THEN I was informed that they were having one of their buy-one-get-one-half-off sales. So instead of paying $30 for two pairs of shoes, I paid $10.50. For TWO pairs. I have to say, I walked out of that store most pleased with myself and my unwitting ability to get a bargain. And aren't they just so precious?

on being a tourist in your own town

When we moved to Muncie, we knew that we would only be there long enough for Blake to earn his master's degree -- about two years. Since we would only be calling that neck of the Midwest home for a limited amount of time, we wanted to make sure that explored all we could while we could.

On the surface, Muncie doesn't exactly sell itself as a tourist trap, but we quickly learned that that didn't mean there wasn't interesting things to explore. First there was the Jar Museum, which we visited at least a half dozen times. Who honestly knew that a museum (and I use the term "museum" loosely; this place was nothing more than some guy's enormous personal collection of old canning jars displayed/stored in the garage on the side of his house) dedicated to fruit jars could be so interesting? And yet, every time we stopped by, Mr. Robinson had something new to show us. We visited the Academy of Model Aeronautics a handful of times, as well as the grounds and mansions at Minnetrista. At the very least, we'd drive through the older streets of town, ogling at the architecture of homes and other original buildings, and spent Sunday afternoons getting lost on narrow country roads and exploring ancient cemeteries.

We also toured beyond the bounds of Muncie, driving over the Matthews Covered Bridge and stopping for ice cream at Ivanhoe's more times than I can count. Twice we drove to the north of the state to walk amongst the Amish in Shipshewana. We explored Indianapolis: downtown and the art museum, to name just a few stops. And then there was Mooreland, a little town about a half an hour south that you'd miss if you blinked at the wrong time. But even Mooreland had much to offer: it was the setting for two of my favorite books, and if you stopped by in August, you could enjoy Mooreland Free Fair by casting your penny vote for the fair queen, wandering around the fairgrounds, or watching the parade.

And we did our best to take advantage of our close proximity to other states. After a morning temple trip, we explored some more of Columbus, Ohio. We drove west to Illinois to visit family and to see Nauvoo. We never did make it up to see Chicago, though, which was a little heartbreaking because I really wanted to see it. Nor did I take the opportunity to see the Emily Kimbrough house in Muncie, which I seriously regret because I love her books. But I guess now I have some reasons to go back to the Midwest.

Anyway, the point I'm trying to make by telling you all this is that you don't have to live in a place like New York City to go out and explore (though, I won't lie, it doesn't hurt). If you keep an open mind, do a little research and digging, I can promise you that there is something near your home that you can find pleasure in exploring. Heck, if we could do it in Muncie, YOU can do it no problem. After almost every one of our NYC adventures, people tell me via comments on the posts I write about the experiences or during face-to-face conversations that it makes them want to go out and do something. And so I challenge you, all of you, to go out and "do something." Go exploring. Be a tourist in your own town. Don't waste another minute. After all, you might only be living where you are for a short time, and I'd hate for you to have to move away with that sinking feeling deep in your gut that you wished you had gone and done something, but just never got around to doing it. And above all, have fun!

Now if you'll excuse me, as soon as Garrett wakes up from his nap, I'll need to head up to downtown Brooklyn to see about getting excused from jury duty by way of the "caregiver clause." But before we pack up and head out, I think I'll do a little digging to see if there's anything worth wandering around for while I'm up in that neighborhood in the event that it warms up a bit. (Right now the weatherman is telling me that it's a windy 11 degrees outside, which is a combination I typically don't like to spend too much time outside in. So we'll see how much actual exploring I get to do today.)

Ciao!

loving the lower east side

Because we try to be glass-is-half-full kind of people, we took the "50% chance of rain" weather report to mean "50% chance it won't rain" and, along with our friends, Emily and Adam, decided to do some exploring in the city. I told Blake that I was all over a President's Day Weekend excursion -- so long as we visited some place we hadn't seen yet. And so today we all tackled the Lower East Side.

And because we're apparently not only optimists but kids-at-heart as well, our first stop was to a 70-year-old candy store called Economy Candy.

This place was amazing! We're talking a sugar-filled paradise of wall-to-wall candy, with everything from vintage varieties to upscale imports. So cool.

Armed with some Swedish Fish and Sixlets, we next trekked along the Bowery, saw the entrance to the Williamsburg Bridge, and walked in and around Chinatown in search of Little Italy:

You should all know, too, that Chinatown smells strongly of fresh fish and spices, while Little Italy smells like fresh mozzarella and marinara sauce. Also, you know you're in Little Italy if you start spotting parking meters, street signs and fire hydrants painted green, white, and red, just like the Italian flag:

We walked along Orchard Street, which was fun and a great place for bargains, even though it wasn't the Sunday Market, and past the Tenement Museum (which I will one day tour, so stay tuned). The buildings in this part were old and definitely reminiscent of the fact that this was the settlement destination for countless scores of fresh-from-Ellis-Island immigrants. We also walked by the impressive old Police Headquarters, and just before we did, bumped into a group of guys I knew from my days living at Southridge. Small world? Yes, indeed. But it didn't hurt that Blake was wearing a BYU sweatshirt. (For the handful of you who are on the edge of your seats, wondering who it was we saw, I will tell you that the only guy we saw whose name I remembered was Joe Dixon. And yes, he seems to be doing well.)

We will have to go back to the Lower East Side again sometime because even though we stopped for a by-the-slice pizza in Little Italy, we still need to try Katz's Deli and maybe also find a delicious Jewish bagel shop because ohmygoodness: New York bagels (which were brought here by Jewish immigrants) are to. Die. For. But this was a good trip to whet our palates.

(And by the way: though it came awfully close a time or two, it didn't rain. The day was instead an incredibly pleasant 50ish degrees. So I guess the glass-is-half-full is the way to go.)

the museum of modern art

Friday nights are free at the MoMA, so last night Garrett and I met Blake in the city for a peek at their collections.


It's a funny thing about New York City art museums. No matter which one I'm wandering around in, I automatically feel smart just doing so. I see a painting I recognize from a humanities class or a name I heard dropped in a round on Jeopardy! and all of a sudden brilliance oozes from me: "I remember learning about that guy!" or "That's a famous painting" or even just "Wasn't he the one guy who started that one movement...you know the one?" Perusing an art museum does wonders for my ego.

Anyway, our visit was whirlwind and dizzying, but here are a few highlights of what we saw:



There was one room solely devoted to Claude Monet. You walk in and are completely blown away by the enormity of the three-panel Water Lilies. I was seriously thisclose to actually sitting on the banks of Monet's pond in Giverny. It was breathtaking.



Until the end of March the museum has a special exhibit on display titled "50 Years of Helvetica." Who knew a font could be so awesome? The poster above was one of my favorites.



And let's not even start talking about the MoMA's spectacular Picasso collection. We'll just leave it at the fact my love for Picasso and his brilliance is pretty much undying.



My own personal highlight of the visit, though, was getting to see Van Gogh's The Starry Night up close and in person. Oh my goodness, you guys: there is a reason this painting is so well-loved and famous. I kept having to go back and look at it just-one-more-time. And then I had to pinch myself because I was standing in front of one of Van Gogh's most beautiful pieces.

So, quiz time: How many of these other pieces we saw do you recognize?


And more importantly, does this vicarious visit to the MoMA, one of New York City's most fabulous museums, make you feel any smarter?

Good. Because it should.

what lips [these] lips have kissed

The first boy I kissed...

...is now my husband.

The second boy I kissed...

...is my first-born son.

And, in case you were curious, the first (and very slobbery) kiss he ever gave away was to his own reflection:

Happy Valentine's Day!

lapping it up

Looks like Garrett loves a glass of ice water as much as the next guy.

On second thought, maybe he loves it just a little bit more.

chasing the clouds away

There's something about this picture,

which I clipped out of a magazine in my 10th grade biology class, that is just so ticklish. Something deep inside my gut wants to squirm from a surprised fit of giggles every time I look at it. At the very least, it turns a gray mood into a sunny one. I remember thinking back when I clipped it that if I someday had a baby whose grins gave me the same giddy reaction, I would be one lucky mama.

Today I thought I'd conduct a little experiment. Does this picture


make me want to roll on the floor and tickle the little guy until we're both gasping for breath through our uncontrollable laughter?

Yes. Yes, it does.

At the very least, it turns cold, cloudy, rainy, snowy, icy, slushy, stuck inside, yucky days like today into brighter, happier ones.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a little boy here who needs to be tickled.

he scoots

A few minutes after I finished filming this last night, he continued his scooting expedition right on into the hallway and around the corner. I caught him before he picked up a board book and backed into the bathroom. (Because, really, it's a mite too early to think about potty training, let alone perusing the printed word while doing so, don't you think?)

So now if he can figure out how to move forward and do it on purpose (I'm pretty sure his current scoots are beyond his control), we'll be in business.

Funny boy.

book report

Sometimes it feels like I have the entire collection of the Brooklyn Public Library checked out and sitting in stacks in my living room. Anyway, for the last, oh, really long time, I've been plowing through them, as evidenced by "recent reads" list on my sidebar. As a book-loving blogger, I sorta feel like it's my duty to tell you about them. So here is a long overdue book report. I'm going to let amazon.com tell you what the books are about (just click on the linked titles) and, because I'm pretty sure my apartment was blown away last night all the way to the frigid South Pole by the bitter winds whipping off the bay, which left my fingers in a frozen state, I'm going take it easy and just share my thoughts concerning them.

Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader by Anne Fadiman
Pretty much the most fabulous book about reading EVER. Seriously, if you are as devoted to books and the reading of them as I am, you need to check this book out. If you want to know more about what I thought, see the post I wrote about it here.

Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life by Amy Krouse Rosenthal
Also fantastic. It's a memoir written in encyclopedia format, which - hello?! is totally and utterly creatively awesome. Added bonus? It's hilarious. Because I want to be in the same Cool Club as Rosenthal, after I read it, I wrote a post mimicking her style (which was as fun to write as it was to read her book...seriously, I think she's onto something with the encyclopedia format).

The Epic of New York City by Edward Robb Ellis
Even though it took me, like, three months to read, I give it two thumbs way up. Heck, if I had a green thumb, I'd throw that one up high as well. Maybe I'm just biased because I call this place home now, but seriously, it's a great narrative history of the city covering from its discovery by Verrazano in 1524 up until its publication, roughly in the middle of the 20th century Civil Rights movements. It's not boring to read (which, again, as a history major, I might be biased here) because it's told in story format and looks at glimpses of the lives of actual citizens to tell the larger story. And where else would you get to pick up fascinating tidbits such as the fact that Broadway was built over an old Indian warpath and that the extravagant Waldorf-Astoria hotel was built because of an Astor family feud?

The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls
If you're into memoirs about squalid childhoods, you'll probably like this one. It's a page turner that leaves you wondering what possessed this girl's parents to think like they did. It will also make you want to kick her parents in effigy because, seriously -- if your kids, who are starving to the point that they'll dig for food out of the bathroom garbage cans at school, find a two carat diamond ring amidst the trash on the family property, you DON'T chose to wear the ring because you feel you've been denied pretty things instead of cashing it in to feed your children. Come on.

I Feel Bad About My Neck by Nora Ephron
I liked this one, even though I'm not in the age group targeted to enjoy it (it's a collection of essays about aging). But Ephron is funny and she writes about New York City, which, yeah, appeals to me. There's also an excellent essay in here about reading, which ranks up there with Ex Libris.

Big Fish by Daniel Wallace
For those whom this might be an issue for, yes, the book DID come before the movie. And yes, I thought the book was better (which is really saying something because I LOVED the movie). As I read it, I felt like I was sitting on a rickety Southern porch listening to some old guy in a rocker tell me tall tales. Wallace's written voice in this book is superb.

Daddy-Long-Legs by Jean Webster
This is a children's classic, written in letter format (which is almost as fun as encyclopedia format) that I should have read a long time ago. But then, I'm a sucker for turn-of-the-century coming of age stories.

The Hours by Michael Cunningham
I loved the movie that this book was based on, so I thought I'd give the book a try. It was beautifully written, and I could almost hear the movie's soundtrack (which is hauntingly gorgeous) playing in the background as I read. I also loved how the lives of the characters were so intertwined. But the homosexual lifestyles of some of the characters got a little tiring for me.

The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio by Terry Ryan
Also picked this one up because I loved the movie, but, even though the book was good, I think the movie did a better job portraying the overall mood of the story.

The Ultimate Cheapskate's Road Map to True Riches by Jeff Yeager
I liked his frugal philosophy and his idea to go on "fiscal fasts" (a pre-determined period of time where you deny yourself the spending of any money) every once in a while. He's a funny, straightforward guy whose mouth, I think, could use a good wash with soap.

A Little Bit of Paris by Jean-Jacque Sempe
A wordless book of cartoonish sketches of life in Paris, as depicted by the famous New Yorker artist, Sempe. A lot of fun to browse through.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J. K. Rowling
Like many of you, I spent many wakeful nights reading this one, but it was a newborn, and not necessarily the story, that kept me up page-turning. Despite that, though, yes I loved it.

A Chainless Soul by Katherine Frank
A biography of Emily Bronte. Depressing, as are most biographies of the Bronte's, especially as she argues that Emily was suffering from anorexia, which I'm not totally sure I agree with. But I'm a sucker for that family and devour anything and everything written by or about them.

In God We Trust, All Others Pay Cash by Jean Shepherd
This was a second reading, so yes, it's that good. And oh so funny. If you liked A Christmas Story, you'll love this book. It's Ralphie and the leg lamp and bb gun and so. much. more.

The Making of a Story by Alice LaPlante
An excellent book on how to write a story. I think it's often used as a textbook, but that didn't seem to stop me.

The Baby Book by Dr. Sears
A good resource for the days when parenting is confusing.

Twilight by Stephenie Meyer
Read this because everyone else was. However, I think I might be the only person on the planet who hated it. I seriously spent the entire book waiting for it to get fantastic like everyone told me it would. But, no. Still waiting. So I won't be reading the rest of the trilogy.

Deceptively Delicious by Jessica Seinfeld
Never had a chance to make any of the recipes (because apparently everyone else in Brooklyn wanted to check this book out from the library, too), but they were intriguing. Don't know, though, that I'd ever have the energy to puree all those vegetables.

All righty then. There's my report. And now the next time you're wondering what book you should pick up the next time you're itching to read something, you have a whole slew of options. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go clean my "recent reads" list and start fresh.

a boy after our own hearts

Garrett is his mother's son because he is apparently freaked out by unusual things: vacuums, blenders, and, judging by the fearful shrieks and tears produced by the sight and sound of it, he is also is mortally afraid of styrofoam.

He is his father's son because his hand automatically reaches up to his head to twirl his hair around his fingers, only instead of grabbing locks on the top, he prefers the straggly bit above his right ear.

And Garrett most assuredly belongs to both of us because even at this tender age, he is becoming a voracious reader -- literally.


At least he has good tastes.

aunteater

I am...

a daughter, a sister, a wife, a mother, a granddaughter, a cousin, and a niece, who has been itching to tell the world since it was beautifully announced to our family during a happy but rare moment when we were every-single-one-of-us gathered around the table for Christmas dinner that now, thanks to these two:

this fall I'm going to be an AUNT!!

Congratulations, Tyler and Amanda! And thanks for giving Garrett his very first cousin!

the nicholas club

I know I've mentioned before just how hilariously fantastic I think the recently-translated-to-English editions of the adventures of the French schoolboy, Nicholas, are. But my love of these stories went up a notch a few days ago. Let me tell you why.

First of all, I don't know if you've noticed, but there seems to be more good quality, classic books, especially those in a series, out there for young girls than there are for young boys. Maybe it seems this way to me because I AM a girl and read books which appealed to little girls when I was younger. But after having a conversation with a friend of mine about a year ago, I realized that I wasn't the only who thinks and is a bit troubled by this. So when I discovered that the Nicholas stories, which I'd originally been introduced to in my French classes, are in the process of being translated to English, I jumped all over them. Currently we have in our possession all four English translations, which are gut-bustingly funny and so, SO fun to read:

Nicholas,
Nicholas Again,
Nicholas and the Gang, and
Nicholas on Vacation.

Tucked away inside one of the books was a postcard-sized registration form for the newly created Nicholas Club. How fun, we thought. It was totally free, and so, even though he was only a few months old, we signed Garrett up. Because, after all, as a potentially rambunctious little boy who will no doubt spend many hours listening to me read Nicholas's adventures out loud to him, he's bound to grow up loving these stories.

A few days ago, a package arrived in the mail, addressed to Garrett, from the Phaidon Press sponsored Nicholas Club. Not expecting anything more than an occasional e-newsletter from the club, I opened the envelope and was more than pleasantly surprised to find this:

A pencil case, inside of which were a pencil, an eraser, a wooden ruler, a rubber stamp with an image of Nicholas, and a metal pin depicting Nicholas doing a back flip, as well as a handwritten membership certificate. I don't know if at this point I need to tell you how awesome this stuff is, but I will anyway: It is WAY awesome. I wish I'd signed myself up, too! (Heck, maybe I will...I'm not sure yet if there is a one-per-household rule or not.)

So anyway, here's my plug for the Nicholas books and the corresponding club. Go sign your kids up! But don't forget to read the books, too; they're so funny, they're more than worth the time it takes to read them, and I imagine, too, that the club will be a bit more meaningful if you do.

celebrations of a giant variety

Apparently we're a mobile good luck charm for professional football teams. Last year, when we lived in Indiana, Indianapolis won the Superbowl. And this year, it was New York. Only, judging by the people shouting in the streets, the blaring car horns, and the general buzz of drunken ecstacy, I think it's safe to say that New Yorkers are much louder celebrators. This is a video, taken from our fire escape, shot shortly after the game ended. They've been at it for over an hour now, with no clear indications of quieting down. I suppose I can console myself with the fact that this is Brooklyn, not Manhattan, where I'm convinced it's much louder, and the bars here close at 4:00 am, so it's bound to end eventually. Until then, go team.

quilt equation

A pile of Goodwill-bound clothes
plus
an idea to salvage what I could from the pile
plus
a few years of collecting
plus
many hours cutting squares
plus
even more hours quilting the squares
plus
a couple weeks sewing the squares together
multiplied
under the weight of the blanket's growing heaviness
plus
two days cutting the fringe
multiplied
by an ocean of tiny threads all over my floor
plus
a trip to the laundromat to give it an industrial strength wash and dry
plus
a wee bit of frustration at having to patch up a few mistakes just when I thought I was finished
equals

one heavy and enormous, but memorable, warm, and lovely rag quilt made by yours truly.