Max

I love this photo of my nephew Max on Camano Island last weekend. If only he had corn stuck in his teeth it would be the perfect picture of summer.

Kew-ter than Pat-ewter

See that empty dish I'm holding? With the red sauce in it? Our dear friend Margot, pronounced 'Mar-go,' made delicious strawberry shortcake tonight and I had two helpings. She added cornmeal to the biscuits, which is ingenious if you ask me. I never spontaneously add cornmeal to baked goods. By the way, Milo would have been named Margot had he been a girl. My grandmother was Margot. She pronounced the T at the end.

Oh, and the bunny! I almost forgot about that cute bunny. Margot has 7 of them. Not my grandmother. She's dead. And they are tiny little things, the rabbits, I mean. Clay has had a lot of Belgian beer tonight and he's normally my editor. Belgian beer has a lot of alcohol. So if this post seems diffrent somehow, you'll understand why. You really haven't seen anything cuter. Cuter than the rabbits, that is... Couter. Kewter. Que-ter.. What a strange word... Margot's daughter is selling them if anyone is interested, meaning the rabbits.

By the way, Goldie put her hands on my hips yesterday and called them "hippos". Not sure what she was implying. Clay is drinking an awful lot tonight.

Does anyone have a good editor looking for a side job? If so, have them call me. Kley things I need him as an editor. But I don need him. He thinks hes so good. I can do just fine without him.

Surprise!

We just got home from a surprise birthday party that our friend threw for his wife. He rented a cool venue on Capitol Hill, hired a band, decorated, had it catered and had the Molly Moon's ice cream truck show up. They even had a special sundae (ginger ice cream, whipped cream, fudge sauce and kumquat puree) in her honor!

This got me thinking about my big birthday, which is just around the corner. I'm far too picky for a surprise party. It would never work. Here is the alternative: I'm thinking of throwing my own surprise party.

I'll send out the Evite, under Clay's name of course. I'll forget to leave off the part about no gifts and I'll order a big delicious meal from a great caterer and serve cake for dessert. And when we reach the magic moment of Surprise!, I'll give an acting performance that would make Meryl Streep jealous. I'll look stunned. I'll openly weep. I'll consider fainting, depending on the mood.

What do you think? Good idea?

Thanks for Nothing.

You know how sometimes you look in a mirror and realize you have a piece of parsely in you teeth or your skirt is tucked into your underwear and you wonder how long it was like that and then you wonder why no one told you. Well, I had one of those experiences today.

Tonight at 7 p.m. George asked me why my sweater was on backward. At first I thought, "oh, kids and their adorable questions." And then I realized "Yikes! he's right." And it's not as if it's the sort of shirt that could go either way. There's pockets in the back! I mean, in the front.

This has been going on since 7 a.m. and no one told me. We're they afraid to say something? Did they not want to embarass me? For future reference, friends, (meaning you - Leora - who saw me three times today), I want to know when my shirt (or hat, or pants) are on backward. At least then I'll know why I'm getting the funny look from the checker at QFC.

Sensitivity Training for 5 Year Olds

This morning was a rare instance when George and Goldie were being very sweet to each other. While Clay was getting Goldie dressed, George said "When I grow up, I'm going to marry Goldie."

Clay explained that that's not legal, at least not in this state.

George thought for a moment and said, "Hmmm... Then I guess she can just be my maid."

Here's the little chauvinist today with Henry the worm.

Sassy!

I love this little butt!


"I can ride my bike and whistle while thinking about Harry Potter."
Says George.



The first item from our garden was ready for pickin' today.



In case you can't spot it, it's a three millimeter radish hanging from that green thing.

A Day in The Life

4 a.m. - Woken up by a kid we like to call Goldie who cant sleep.

6 a.m. - Tired of the tossing, turning and constant trips into her room I finally give up on the idea of sleep and get her dressed and take her to exercise class with me.

6:43 a.m. - Aforementioned child lays on my yoga mat and prevents me from doing any sit ups and then loudly and insistently instructs that "it's time to rest." Does the same thing when it is time for push ups.

8:10 a.m. - Drive George to school.

8:23 a.m. - While driving home get pulled over by the police in front of my own house in full view of scandalized neighbors. Get ticketed for "doing 30" in a school zone. Am suddenly $189 lighter than when I started the day (at 4 a.m.!)

8:33 a.m. - First email from neighbor comes in. It reads, "What's with the cop car in front of your house?"

9:00 a.m. - I drag myself to Volunteer Park Cafe for a pity party and complain to everyone I know there about my brush with the wrong side of the law. Annie the barista gives me a free London Fog. Shannon soothes my pain by saying at least it wasn't a DWI. ( I take this as kind encouragement all the while thinking "Huh? It was 8 a.m. What are your mornings like") Peyman suggests the name of a top-notch lawyer who can help me fight this thing. Nancy, my new neighbor, talks about how nice Clay is (huh?).

9:30 a.m. - Neighbor across the street, whose burglar alarm was ringing while I was getting my ticket, asks me why the police were at our house when his burglar alarm was going off, which is a good question.

10 a.m. - I can't remember 10 a.m. 'cause by this point I'm too tired and I want to forget it all.

Fast forward to

3:30 p.m. - At swimming lessons George jumps off a diving board for the first time in his life and expertly swims to the side. (While walking down the diving board he earnestly asks instructor if it can hold his weight, which is 41 lbs.)

This makes me smile every time I think about it and I've forgotten all the unpleasantness of the morning.

Someone Put Their Spaghetti in My Hot Dog.

George is uninspired by food. Any food. (With the possible exception of chocolate chip cookies, which he ate for dinner last night. Three of them.)

Last weekend I made several lovely meals and he disliked them all.

But I think I've hit upon an inspiration. Look what he's getting tomorrow night.





I will stop at nothing to get that kid to eat. Nothing!

I'll let you know how it goes.