Category: Food

Mass damper

There’s a 720 ton mass-damper ball in one of the tallest buildings in Taipei – check out the footage online of it moving like a kid’s soccer ball in the storm last week. It moved more than during the last earthquake.

Last night we (Alex, Imp, baby Alex, Katie, Darci, Curtis, Abbie, Jasmine, Keith, Paul, Jeff and I) went to English Bay and thanks to Alex had a picnic.  Memories stick out…

Baby Alex sprint-crawling to the water.  Baby Alex biting a lemon.  Repeatedly. Shuddering from crown to butt. Playing lemon catch with Abbie. Playing the Ukelele Song with Alex (I figured out chords on the fly, go me). Pickled eggs (SOOOO GOOD Alex home-made them). Realizing that I made eight quarts of iced tea and it almost all got drunk, which is awesome.  A fiery pink sunset. Happy eating people.  Keith giving the Imp a shoulder ride.  The Imp playing with a frisbee in a very high wind and looking very very carefully both ways before crossing the bikepath. Abbie neatly eating a sandwich.  How tenderly her parents comforted her when she took a tumble. Alex saying “before you became a parent you never thought you’d have the urge to hold someone else’s vomit in your hands” as baby Alex puked into his mom’s hands. Assorted extremely yummy olives. New potato salad so good I almost cried, or maybe that was noticing it had extremely crunchy good bacon in it.  Not eating too much, just feeling the fellowship and food.

 

Thank you Alex for putting it together.  It was really wonderful.

a visit

Woke at 4:34 with a bug crawling on me.  Sigh.  I’m sure I have a mild case of RLS because I very often get ‘the crawlies’ but my crawlies don’t move, and bugs do, so that’s how I tell the difference when lying in bed at night.

I’m getting a new mattress.  This one is shite.  I don’t feel like spending any money.

Patricia and I got together downtown to (briefly) discuss my potential job application but mostly to drink a few sophisticated beverages, in the jungle that is the café at the VAG (no fewer than 4 species of bird and mammal came through).  We scored the best seats in the house. She asked to look at baby pictures.  I am extraordinarily proud of Alex (also Katie, who is doing a more than creditable parenting job under circumstances that are more difficult than what I experienced), but I don’t spend a lot of time talking about him, because his accomplishments have more to do with the quality of his vocalizations and his digestive processes than anything grownups consider remarkable.

Our server, Claire, a charming woman, talked to us a while about how people freak out about there being animals and she’s like, duh, it’s outside with 25 years worth of very dense foliage and food, and if you see mice there’s no rats, so whatevs.  Her attitude was very bracing, and damn us if we didn’t use the last of the pita to tempt Sir Sparrow and the Sire de Mousey.  And Patricia said something so complimentary I ain’t repeating it,  but it’s one of those things I’m going to be pulling out and mentally burnishing every once in a while for the next couple of weeks any time I have the Thrumps.

After two beers (Sunsetter Summer I b’lieve, and normally I LOATHE wheat bears and they give me an immediate headache but this was delicious and carried no such freight) and some hummus it was aff hame, except I said at Granville (exaggerating somewhat) CRYFACE O WHY IS IT I MUST LEAVE YOU MY FRIEND I WISH TO CONTINUE BEVERAGING.

I pointed to the nearest pub, and she had a better idea (she lives blocks away) and we went to a very nice bar called Uva, with extremely loud music (I need to find a bar downtown with music at a comfy level) and exceptionally nice washrooms and kindly servers, and I had a Raven, because I don’t get to go to Jericho Folk any more because they stopped (rent and exhaustion trending upward as I recollect) and that was the only place I ever drank it.  It was very, very good, even better than I remember although that might have more to do with how often the beer taps were cleaned at the Galley than anything else, because it was in a bottle.

So we chatted a while longer and I went home. Very pleasant to discuss the interface of domestic life with contemporary feminism, and on that subject I need make no further public remarks.

And now Jeff’s up and there’s tons on the PVR and it’s another smoking hot day in Vancouver and we are going to a family picnic tonight, yay! Also, it’s a resumé day, and I know better than to try to write more than one kind of fiction on resumé day.  I have the job description to hand, which will make things easier.

Writing will commence after the family picnic.  I am sure of it.  I was a little underfriended, and by the time I’ve done catching up with my dear ones I’ll be much closer to having a full tank.  Thank you Mike, Patricia and Alex for that!!

MUST EAT.

Grinding continues

267 words yesterday.

Mike took me to dinner last night.  We started at a restaurant I’m not going to name because I’m going to trash it so badly.

We walked in, and rather than the delightful scents of (not common but not unheard of subcontinental cuisine) we got incense and B.O., a combination that made my tummy (it was 7 and I hadn’t had anything to eat since noon) contract like a beercan idly squeezed by the Hulk.

Mike responded in the affirmative when I said, “Can you smell that?”

A two top and a four top came in while we were waiting.

In the brief time we were in there the server, who might have held some other position in the establishment, did the following:

stayed behind the counter fooling around with the touch screen cash register for about 7 minutes.  I know, because when Mike said, “Do you want to bail?” I said, “Let’s give him five minutes,” and more than that went by.

Left half a dozen menus on our table and used it as his source for menus as other people came in.  I have never in my entire life had the table I was sitting at be used as a menu holder.  I wanted to say something but I saw the expression on the guy’s face and I was concerned that I’d be scolded for commenting.

Brought round glasses of water en masse for everyone.

Served precisely one bowl of soup.  Every top was loaded and in seven minutes he served one customer.

Disappeared into the kitchen, once for quite a while, only reappearing with food the once.

Was short with anyone who asked him to take their order.  (Mike and I didn’t even try. EVEN THOUGH WE KNEW EXACTLY WHAT WE WANTED BEFORE WE SET FOOT IN THE RESTAURANT.)

Yeah.  I stopped being appalled after a minute or two, I was just trying to give everyone a chance, while ambiance soaked in.

When, a couple of minutes after we got the water we still hadn’t had our order taken, we bailed.  I am pretty sure the B.O. belonged to the customer closest to the door; I’m very tolerant of body odour, but this was the smell of a guy who lives on fenugreek and then marinates in his clothes in the hot sun for a couple of days in a row.

To illustrate…

To round out the glory of this experience, a three year old child was actively crying or grizzling the entire time in the corner, yeah Allegra do please backspace over something if you’re going to say something insensitive and racist so I’m skipping that little observation, and some of the worst music ever recorded and not sung in English was crapping out of the speakers.

So we up and flew away and went to Indian Bombay Bistro instead, where the chicken tikka masala and mogo and chickpeas and pilau rice were amazing.

Mike wanted his Cards against Humanity deck so we briefly dropped by Planet Bachelor and grabbed them, then back to Geekhaus for the mandolin (Edith, not Otto), and I offered some body work and pummelled Mike’s calves (still messed from the Beach, haw) and upper back until my hands got tired and then Mike went home about 9.

Shoot, I should take down the table so Jeff can exercise.  Welp, gotta go!

service plus party

Paul and I were very moved by the service for David Hamilton, who in death seems even more quietly mythic than he was in life.  A genuine, humble, intelligent, thoughtful, listening kind of man, with music in his very soul, the eulogies were funny and moving and real and the comments by his daughters-in-law particularly stood out as coming from two very different women, but uttering the same grateful praise.

We spent a lot of time catching up (I refused to look at my watch.)

So we were late to the restaurant, but it all came out okay.

Then back here.  We played Cards Against Humanity and had so much fun.  I haven’t heard Jeff laugh that hard in company since high school.  Both of us laughed until we were leaking, and at the point when we thought our ribs couldn’t take it any more we’d start laughing again.  Keith played games master. Also in attendance Cassidy, Mike (birthday lad), Joe and his gf, whom I’ve probably been introduced to four times but whose name I cannot remember, Brian and Chari, Paul of course.  Paul had the advantage, with Keith, Mike and Cassidy, of having played it before, and he came up with some combos that were hilariously unprintable.  I won a round with the best and simplest two card combo.

“For my next trick I will try to pull HOPE out of MY SEX LIFE.” Keith was the judge that round, ya shoulda seen his face.

I also won a round with “Dick Fingers”.  Since there was also “Five Dollar Foot Longs” coming up as a card in that round the group immediately came up with a  band name of Dick Fingers and his Five Dollar Foot Longs.

Yes, we had fun.

Jeff wore his Stargate “No Place Like Home” hoodie, squee.

I don’t even know who won and I don’t care.  It wasn’t the point.

Keith noted that you aren’t supposed to play it with family members but we managed all that quite nicely.  It’s an extremely rude game, and you may learn, as Jeff remarked, things you really didn’t want to.

Thank you to Jeff for getting the pinballs going – Joe and gf, who is apparently a pinball enthusiast from way back, went downstairs and made pinging noises for at least an hour and then dropped into the middle of the CaH game.

Around 9:30 I realized I could no longer stay upright so I went to bed.  Also, darkness equals bugs.

Thank you to all the beautiful people, friends and Beaconites, who made it such a perfect, and perfectly exhausting day.  Now I can’t sleep.

 

Are you Mary?

Instant mini housefilk at Cindy’s place; me and Paul and Cindy and Miss K for appreciative audience. SUCH A GOOD TIME. Also we gave blood then we ate Indian food and went to the Bloedel Conservatory and I got into a discussion with a parrot and then nearly passed out from being down a pint and Paul sat with me for the 20 minutes it took for me to recover… all this happened before the housefilk. Feeling fine now but tired obvs, it was quite a day. Funny story… go to give blood at the Oak St Clinic, gal at reception asks “are you Mary?” which I hear as Are You Married, and I say no we’re divorced. So now on top of everything else I need to get my hearing checked.

 

Mental illness

I did have a rough couple of days.  Feeding Ayesha was the only reason I got dressed and left the house a couple of times. But my friends as usual helped me feel better.  I was reading Jenny Diski’s latest review about insanity and being committed, and reading about the continuing horror and debility of the mental unwellness of an acquaintance on fb, and I just had to stop and thank a few people.

Sandy for telling me to go back to taking vitamin d, which was the smartest of many smart things she’s told me in the last year; Paul for taking me for a WONDERFUL walk in Queen’s Park (we haven’t walked there in 15 years, I’d guess) where we saw a gazebo, and pigs in the petting zoo, and kids having fun but NOT SHRIEKING, and gingko trees, and roses, and a completely deserted outdoor exercise space for adults; Jeff for indulging me when I said, “Gee whiz after watching the last ten minutes of True Detective (wherein there was an incredible gun battle) I want to rewatch 44 Minutes: The North Hollywood Shootout!” and he said sure, so we did, and I have to say it’s held up very, very well; Sue for always being a positive and loving force in my life; Tammy for listening; mOm and pOp of course for so much practical and uncomplicated support now and earlier; both kids for various kinds of help; John, who seems to pop up everywhere in my mind these days and I don’t know why this picture of a dog reminds me of him; Margot for being so relaxed about not being normal; Bounce for being one of my happiest memories.

 

After the wonderful walk yesterday (all those beautiful tall trees!) Paul took me to the Taqueria Playa Tropical, which is such a good restaurant it doesn’t serve desert (of course not, and as I re-read this I note they don’t serve dessert EITHER.)  I ordered a beer and Paul had a Margarita, can you credit it? And the server swapped the drinks because GENDER ROLES, which occasioned harmless mirth.  I had the Tosta Carnita, and for seven bucks I got the tastiest sandwich I have ever, ever eaten. GOD IT WAS GOOD I AM STILL IN THAT HAPPY PLACE. Paul had the enchiladas and the way they were plated I wanted to take a picture, but I am damned glad I didn’t because that shit’s rude.  And I left my phone in the car.

Happy to have friends.  All I meant to say.  Because they are the people standing between me and the bughouse.

400 words yesterday.  Babies tumbling down stairs and being weird.

I am working on more songs and more writing, but all the songs have not had lyrics of late.  I am practicing!

661 words today – Song #3 of 50 Gabriola Camping Trip

I need to make up the deficit from yesterday, but at least that’s only 339 words.  I used the trick of going downstairs and working on the 60 inch screen.  There’s something about seeing my words on the tv screen that I find very amusing and heartening.

Mike took me and Keith to the Union Jack yesterday (I always eat the same thing, and it involves Yorkshire Pudding).

Keith demonstrated great strength of character yesterday.  And he left his hat here again. He walked home from the pub. (It is delightfully close; I can contemplate walking there without horror.)

Then Mike came back here and I assembled the massage table and beat him up for a while.  Then, declaring that I wasn’t happy with the outcome, I beat him up again.  (He was trashed from a yoga retreat with a hike in the middle, and his hamstrings were a nightmare).

There is so much smoke in the air that it’s horrifying.  Yesterday the air quality was so bad I turned off the airconditioner.

So 661 words AND another song.  It’s a call and response, as any fool can plainly see. (The correct response is: I can plainly see it.)

Gabriola Camping Trip – in meter it’s like a Marine Corps running song

I’m not nearly high enough

Chorus
Who say, who say
We’re not nearly high enough
and so say all of us

I’m not nearly drunk enough

Who say, who say
We’re not nearly drunk enough
and so say all of us

Think I’ll take a naked swim

Who say, who say
Can’t get out if you don’t jump in
and so say all of us

Think I’ll piss in the ocean now

Who say, who say
Someone better show you how

on account of

you are drunk
and so say all of us

Wind came up and the tents blew down

Who say, who say
We’re not sleeping anyhow
and so say all of us

Monday morning comes too quick

Who say, who say
Half of us are puking sick
and so say all of us

 

The bliss of a perfect summer day

I went to IKEA yesterday with Mike; we met up there with Jarmo and Susanna and Ville.  His hair is as satisfyingly rotund as I remember it – like a scale model light brown version of Phineas – and that is more than enough for me to say on the subject.

Then Mike purchased blackout curtains and I purchased what seemed like a good deal in plastic containers, plus another IKEA bag to take it home in.  Hey, they come in handy for laundry.

We sat on the deck and looked at the conjunction of Venus and Jupiter and drank beer and he went home.

Today Paul came over around 1:30 and we walked in the shady part of Oakalla.  Everything is dry and still and creepy – leaves crashing off the trees.  The only critters were a tiny flash of a great blue heron, a cute little butterfly, a couple of towhees, and a russet thrush up in the trees trilling.

He accompanied me on a shopping trip so I loaded up on veggies.  Now I’m waiting to hear from Keith to see if he’s saved us a seat at the pub at the Quay in New West where we can watch the fireworks.  I know from twitter that the fireworks barge is already there.

If he can’t reserve us a seat, and who knows what will happen, I’m thinking I borrow that stool of Jeff’s and grab a blanket and then I can sit wheresoever I please.

Wrote yesterday but can’t remember the count, 497 words so far today.  It was so pleasant to watch the word count tip over 50,000.  Only 40,000 to go. Writing today has been infill and closing chapters for further addition.  Sometimes I feel very penny dreadful in the way I have to always be throwing something new and potentially scary at the reader, and then very nursery-sloppy about how I try to soothe the reader after the scare.  I’ve tried hard to give my lead character’s language a jarring, neo-Victorian feel.  And that’s way more than I should talk about because that all sounds like I’m taking it seriously.  I do, but it’s supposed to be fun and I’m trying to write it that way.  I think I have vast reservoirs of fun in me, but difficult of access at times.

I feel very blessed to be among my friends and family.

I should probably go chop vegetables and what not.

May you all have a good Canada Day, and I salute the First Nations of this land, without whose continued stewardship, under such duress, we could not be as we are.

 

Justice is what love looks like in public

Here’s another take on the Flag of the Army of Northern Virginia.

Three hundred words yesterday.  I really kinda did take the weekend off.

Yesterday I went to Mike’s AGAIN for lunch and he fed me andouille sausage with red pepper and asiago and the salads we had yesterday.  Then we exchanged body work (for me my back, for him some muscles I can’t pronounce because his martial arts training as a 20something included snap kicks which literally pulled the femoral head out of its normal spot and he’s got pretty much permanent pain 20 years on, plus he had a family meal Saturday and it was a cascade of underslept monkey vs. weasel family meshuggas). Then we napped.  Like adults do when they are two beers drunk, well fed and laying about in the sun. Mike hadn’t slept for an atrocious length of time and he was much refreshed.  Then I got up and rode my bike home (it was around 7 pm) and it was deliciously cool since it was mostly downhill, and then I asked Jeff if he wanted to go to Sunset Beach with us (he was too sleepy) and I grabbed Otto and Mike grabbed his parlour guitar and we traded instrumental and lyrical songs and addressed the bay while the sun went down, and the light made rippling rows of Loch Nessie clones roll up and down the bay. We toasted each other in beer in plastic cups. I thought of John, and how proud of me he would have been for all the song writing I’ve been doing, and how he would have laughed his ass off at the books I’m writing, and mocked me roundly for my many errors and just how jeezly much I miss him.  I will never hear him wheedle me again “Dear sweet, kindly, agreeable sister in common law…” when he wanted a haircut or some assistance wrangling his succession of massive and inconvenient cats.  Then mosquitoes the size of hummingbirds silently arose from the ground and swarmed me and we fled to the exceedingly conveniently parked car, because Mike’s parking-fu is of a calibre to excite the comparison “Magical”.

For a while our only audience was a Canada goose, who booked it when a dog named Jack got too close to him, and a pair of mallards, who sat right at our feet.  I knew they were hoping for schnacks but still it made me feel good, as did watching a pair of herons fly over 4th Avenue. Then other people sat down without crowding us so we had company.   This is the weird bunch of signs from behind where we were sitting.

IMAG0968_BURST002

Going there we went through Richmond, and we didn’t hit a light until we were were on Granville. Going back we went through town and we counted the number of pot dispensaries on either side of Kingsway after Main before Boundary and there were four on his side and three on my side and one hydroponics shop.

Then he took me to Phó Boi and I had a small number 3 and ate ALL of it. An insanely attractive interracial couple was having their first date at the table next to us and Mike and I tried to drown their inanities out with soup slurping, but there’s only so much you can do with the audio when the man next to you is mansplaining how he doesn’t know how to order phó.

Mike was shaking his head as we left.  “Phó for a first date is a terrible idea.”

In the morning yesterday I was in church, Sue came and got me, and John H. was there, first time he’s come since Anita died, and we many of us wept to hear him mourn her, and Debra, who has her earned her bread with us with great skill, asked us to be silent for a while after he spoke.  We gave a cheque for $2700 to a local charity which helps homeless people and I took what were probably not very good pictures of the handoff.  We mourned the deaths in Charleston, and thanked all our volunteers, and broke for the summer recess.

It was a good day.  Today I have no plans but to write.

 

The salmon of wisdom

Mike fed me lunch and then we lazed on his balcony until he had to go off to his parents for supper.  It was salmon with fresh dill and garlic, store bought tater salad and a salad of my own concoction, being tomatoes, cucumber, cilantro, feta, green onions and tiny amounts of lemon juice and olive oil.  REALLY GOOD.  I had seconds and thirds of salmon, and spent the afternoon in a state of pleasant repletion, to quote James H. Schmitz.

Today is the last day of church before the summer break.  I won’t be going to the father’s day picnic afterward.  I may go to Wreck – it’s supposed to be another awesome day and I think my symphisis problem has died down to the point I can at least think about it.  Wreck on Solstice / National Aboriginal / Father’s Day is purty awesome.

Forty (ha) words yesterday.  I got a break from the screen, and that was good.

Weeping with joy

So I wanted to whiff on church yesterday because hey no surprise I always do. But it was very very worth it.

Preamble: I walk in the front door grouchy because having left it so late I had to park in the Gods up on Keary Street. The Minister approaches with a look of what I interpret as horrified concern, but she tells me to kick the rock away from the door so it can close and then says “Oh and good morning!”  (He is risen, he is risen, he is verily risen).

One, I need to put my Secret Buddy letter in an envelope (it’s a church thing to help us get to know each other and make stronger intergenerational bonds.)

Two, it’s new member Sunday, and old members should show up and show how happy they are FRESH MEEEAAAT FOR COMMITTEES.  Or BRAAAINZ, I can never figure out what I should be moaning…..  I couldn’t – I was too busy crying.  Because I was so happy that 9 ADULTS AND 5 CHILDREN joined our church.  I got intensely drippy, and it was wonderful. Yeah sure they mostly came from other congregations but the two sets of young families did NOT.

Three, I always like to light candles.  I got up during the service and was grateful for the thought provoking meeting yesterday.

Then Luc and Carol got up and announced that they had ELOPED and BROUGHT CUPCAKES.  You can well imagine (I hope you can) which of these two announcements stirred us most.  The cupcakes were freaking awesome. Oh, and congratulations Luc and Carol.  (Hopefully the out of town Unitarians who occasionally read my blog and know the principals will be dancing around, much as I did.)

Rob W. came late, as is his wont, (this from the woman who looks every week for an excuse NOT to go to church) sat next to me, and as part of our ritualized sideways hug when he sits down, we accidentally bonked heads realllly hard, and then both cracked up because it was funny. Hugs n concussions r us.

Two of our beloved church elders are dying of cancer, and it makes me really sad.  One of them I loved since the first time I spoke with him, and the other kinda grew on me, until now I’m just as sad as if two of my relatives are dying.  We were talking about that at the meeting on Saturday, how good it is that people are joining, because people are literally dying out of the church.  We sing “Gathered here in one strong body” but sometimes the body ain’t so strong.

The choir mistress got a lovely  bunch of fleurs for her service.  She has really moved the choir along in terms of dynamics and intonation.

The sermon about moral beauty had me nodding in a couple of places.

I talked to a couple of people after church and then went home and very late in the day wrote about 650 words.

I made curried pork chomps.

The carafe of cold coffee is calling my name. I have an interview at noon and see the financial advisor at 9.

A bit of writing

SO DISAPPOINTED in Mad Max, yes I already said that

232 words yesterday.  It was emotionally satisfying to be writing again. A cop gets a nutshot, so that was fun.

Chronic Tacos does not make as nice a sopa de tortilla as Pamola.  Srsly. I got takeout and will finish it here, but Chronic doesn’t make their own broth, unless my tongue has completely yielded up differentiating home style from bottled.

SO GLAD I got to the lawn before the landpeer got here to police up the flower beds.  Bert sat in the shade in his wheelchair while Kim worked.  Kim’s over 70 herself now.

Temporarily done with the churchy project. I’ve been asked to go to the Worship services meeting on Saturday and I think I will go, it will be a good group and for a number of reasons people who’ve been quite active can’t be so anymore.  I’ve been on the committee when Lutina was chair (the good old days) and I’m not doing much at church since it’s hard for me to do the coffee when I can’t stand for a couple of hours with my symphisis all hissy.  I still do homilies when asked.

I don’t think mOm has seen this – check out page 11 of this pdf from Beacon. There I am singing two years ago (with a balloon tied to my mandolin).

What a meal

I thought Mike was going to feed me in a restaurant, but he made pot roast, with veg, mashed potatoes and gravy, and afterwards (since we started late and I had eaten myself in a ‘pleasant state of repletion’) I faceplanted. Awoke at quarter to six and walked home.  What a glorious morning!  The sky is a pearly pale blue and it was just the right amount of walk.  Mike gave me about 20 minutes of very pressure conscious massage on my lower back last night and something let go with an almighty crack, and I remember waking up and thinking “no pain!”.  Course, no cpap either, but o well. I got Mike with about 20 minutes of calf massage – he tried the Wreck Beach stairs for the first time this season this last weekend and he was a hurting unit (should have heard him moaning as we went down the basement stairs).

I am still in prodrome, but I’m doing my best to ignore it.  The hardest part is knowing that whatever mood I’m in, super agitated and cheerful, or super sludgy and meepish, is all, if not false, then certainly questionable,  and that the dishes must still be done and phone calls returned.

I am working on a song for BB King.

Buster, after giving me such a scare with his absence yesterday, was on hand to greet me and thank me for filling his dish, and all in all the world is a very pleasant place this morning, and it will be even yet more amazing after coffee, toast and eggs.

Jeff should be back today.

Lots and lots

Yesterday I wrote 1700 words, only 1200 of which will end up in the novel unless I tweak them hard.

Keith came over and blitzed through GoT after taking me for a walk (we went to the Twist and got beer, which Keith kindly carried home, which is good, because I am very sore), and I made bread rolls, which was pretty much all I had to do to get Keith to come over.  (I think in some ways Keith considers my cooking to be pretty good.) The rolls are incredibly dense and chewy.  I will have to do that again, this time when Jeff’s here and before they vanish.

1.2 hours.

Margot and Buster are irritated that Jeff’s door is closed. Margot mewed as loudly as she could to wake me up this morning, which is not very loud but reasonably effective when she’s jamming her face under my door (the gap is very big.) Margot’s in the living room right now and Buster is on the top bunk sleeping in my suitcase.

Back to writing.  Pharos and George are working their way through a long to-do list.  mOm is enjoying it and so I wonder what I’ll dream up today.

Saw Alex today

and wrote 1222 words, and had phÆ¡ for dinner and really life is okay even if not a single person responds to any of the resumes I’ve sent out in the last two weeks.

Alex is sitting up, crawling, grinning and in general running his mama ragged. By which I mean: Alex can crawl at what I consider a goodly pace. He smiled politely at my attempts at baby talk, and then got into a disagreement with one of my Crocs. (Katie will verify that he indeed made noises of displeasure at my shoe. Not the left one, the right one, since one of you is sure to ask.) And he slept like an angel during our meal. I am a topped-up grandma.