Goldie's Field of Dreams

Because I was bamboozled by my friend Leora, I signed Goldie up to play T-ball team this summer.

The first practice was last week. After school I asked Goldie to change out of her dress, which she wore to preschool graduation, and into something more appropriate for practice.

She came downstairs in the following "ball"gown.

So, I sent her back to put on something more appropriate. She came back in suede boots, terry cloth Daisy Dukes and a cardigan.

"That's more like it," I said.

She had a great time and keeps asking when the next practice is. And I love the batting helmet the coach gave her. At least I did, until Clay asked why she needs a batting helmet for T-ball, since there's no pitching.

Because it looks adorable, obviously.

Anyway, back to Leora, who requested I sign Goldie up for T-ball. She said we could sit on the field chatting about important stuff, like baking, while the girls played. Conveniently, she wasn't at the first practice and I sat by myself.

And she'll miss the second practice because she'll be out of town. I'm on to you, Leora, and your bamboozling ways.

But I do love that pink batting helmet.

Bok Bok!

There is so much going on here that for once I'm speechless.  Our sweet family of five has now become a family of 9.  When Mike left us back in November for NY we had to fill his shoes somehow and we adopted 4 beautiful chickens from our friends Molly and Zack.

Look at them. It's hard not to love them and their fabulous eggs, which have kept me very, very busy this past week.

Porter Bread (with recipe!)

Sometimes I need a break from talking about how stupid (or fabulous) I am and need to focus on other people and how stupid or fabulous they are. Or in this case, why their pets are stupid. (Remember Crazy Person of the Month?  Maybe it's time to bring that feature back.)

Last night Clay and I ran into old friends of ours. They're an amazing couple, who are so busy enjoying life that they haven't had time to get married. And they've been together FOREVER!

As we were catching up, she told me about the movie that was just filmed in her house. It's called The Details and it stars Laura Linney, Ray Liotta, and Toby Maguire (Yes THAT Toby Maguire!)  While the film was being shot, the studio put them up at the very plush Sorrento Hotel. And they were able to come by and hang out on the set during the day. Sounds dreamy, doesn't it?

Like I said, they are interesting and fun.

Here's a less glamorous part of their lives. It involves their dog Porter.

One day Lisa was going to bake a loaf of bread. She left the dough to rise on the kitchen counter and went out to run some errands.

When she returned, she smelled a foul yeasty sort of odor she could't identify. As she walked closer to the kitchen, the smell got stronger and she noticed her bread dough lying in a pile on the floor.

"Darned, Porter. He knocked over the bowl," she thought.

She picked up the dough and realized it was oddly slimy and very stinky. She then realized what had happened.

Porter had jumped on the counter, eaten the dough and was probably as happy as could be until the yeast started to rise. It rose in his tummy until it could rise no more. It then erupted out the top hatch onto the kitchen floor where she found it.

And the really funny part is that she went ahead and baked it and gave it to the noisy, inconsiderate neighbors. And they never found out...

OK. I made that last bit up. But don't you think that would have made the story even better?

Porter Bread... Mmmmmm.

Bad dog! Bad bread! Good story.

This is exactly why we are getting chickens in six days!  Stay tuned to meet the girls and hear Scene Two of Baking with Robin.

He's Just Not That Into You. Or Your Cookies.

ACT ONE: A while back a barista at my favorite coffee shop on Capitol Hill encouraged me to bake cookies for his friend who just opened a coffee shop on Capitol Hill. He apparently had great coffee but no baked goods. "Maybe you could sell them some," he suggested.

The next day I went in, introduced myself as Matty's friend, and handed them a very full jar of warm cookies. The first thing out of the owner's mouth was, "Where'd you bake these?" I got nervous and started talking too much and too quickly and explained that I had baked them at my house and was interested in baking and wanted to sell my baked goods, if they were interested. He looked at me like I was a fool and said, "You can't do that. Health department violation."

Then I got even more nervous and explained that he should try them and if he liked them I could get access to a commercial kitchen. (Big. Fat. Lie.) He looked at me like I was a crazy lady, took the cookies and nodded in agreement when I told him I'd be back for my jar.

The next day I went back for my jar. (I brought Clay with me so they could see that I do have friends.) He recognized me and handed me an empty jar and said nothing. NOTHING! He doesn't say, "Thanks for the cookies." He doesn't call me an asshole. He doesn't comment on my shoes. Or my friend. He says nothing. I gather up my cookie jar and hand him my sad and very dated little business card, which has a bird on it and an AOL email address.

I tried to hold my head high as Clay and I walked out to the car. Once inside, I looked at Clay and said  "He's never going to call." And Clay sadly agreed, "Nope. He's never going to call." And he didn't. END OF ACT ONE

While You Were Out...

You may remember me talking a few years back about a reality show I was going to create. It was the one where husbands got "kidnapped" for a few months and "while they were out", things got "fixed." For example, five-car garages got torn down and beautiful backyards were created in their place or old moldy showers from the 6os were replaced with soaking tubs.

You know. Those kinds of projects.

Today we went to Camano Island where my parents have a house and Clay and I thought of another potential hit reality show. This one is called, "While You Were Out Some Things Got Broken and Smashed and Hauled Away to the Dump."

It's where you hire someone to come into family members' homes and make things disappear that should have disappeared long ago.

I know. It's a tough concept. I'll give you some hypothetical examples to help you visualize.

The following is a vase in the shape of a lady's head. It's never had a plant in it and someone colored her eyes with a ball point pen. Smash!




This is a sea bird wind thingy that, of course, is stored in the guest bathtub. Poof!



This is a ceramic duck. It's squatting on a kitchen shelf amongst the spices and cookbooks. If you flip it over you'll see an address and phone number boldly written with a Mr. Sharpy, which is smart because should it ever go missing, the owner would be able to head to the local precinct and positively ID it. Ka-Pow!



And these are some fabulous fake flowers and ferns from the 80's. They still consider Cindy Lauper a role model. Whack!



How 'bout it? Anyone know someone in Hollywood who can make this show happen?

George's Room is OUR Canvas

Take Two.

George and I are hanging out in the kitchen. He's telling me about his day and I'm making cookies.

Upstairs we hear the lovely sounds of Goldie and Milo playing nicely.

Every few minutes there is a giggle and my heart is happy.

Clay enters the kitchen and asks if I've checked on Milo and Goldie lately.

"No", I reply. "They seem happy. I can hear them upstairs."

Clay, whose motto is trust but verify, goes upstairs and I hear his booming manly voice that he saves for special situations say, "This is NOT okay!"

George and I look at each other and rush upstairs to see what's happening.

Not again...

This time they've emptied my toiletries, the dirty laundry, the clean laundry and almost every drawer in the house onto the floor of George's room.



It's official. I am the worst mom ever.

My Brother's Room is My Canvas

Last night I was upstairs changing sheets and Milo, who wasn't interested in helping me, headed into the bathroom where he decided to unroll the toilet paper. I checked on him a few times and decided I was fine with this project mostly because he was;

A. Letting me get stuff done
B. Staying out of trouble
C. Having such a good time

A few minutes later Clay walked in and put an end to the fun.

When Milo wouldn't stop crying at the loss of his freedom of expression I decided to let him continue. How bad could it get? It's just a roll of toilet paper.

Soon the "project" began to expand:



To George's room:



And in another 10 minutes I found this:



And then this:



And then Milo proclaimed his installation piece finished.

Only later, while downloading photos, did we realize he had also found the camera and documented his achievements.






The good news is that I was able to get the bed made. And to think, Clay wanted to take the toilet paper away. Silly Clay...