Well, it didn't feel exactly like vacation today, but boy did I need this day off. Why? I have embarked on a zealous crusade to declutter every part of this house. I got the main bathroom done a few weeks ago, and today it was the linen closet. The linen closet! Which I hadn't touched in the entire eight years we've lived in this house and what an education it was. Dental floss! Emery boards! Useless scented soaps! Melted candles that I never bothered to replace! One of the things I learned? At one time in my life I was really, really into incense. If you want to know how much, come and buy some at the end of June. That's when we'll be participating in the Irvington garage sale. Hence the decluttering project. My goal is to get every room in the house decluttered -- including the garage -- by the weekend before the June 30 garage sale. So, yes, for the next month I'll be doing this every spare night and parts of the weekend I have. Tomorrow and Thursday nights: The hall closet and the dining/living rooms. With luck, those of you who visit us will actually be able to hang up your coats.
I did have a sad moment today packing up Rachel's baby blankets -- most of which were hand-crocheted and we just didn't get the chance to use. I ended up calling Mom and tearing up a bit. "Does this mean I won't have another baby?" I said sadly, to which she replied, very nicely, don't be ridiculous. Really, it feels good to have a leaner set of possessions even though the project took me ALL AFTERNOON. I thought I could get it done in, oh, two hours. And this was without taking a break except to talk to Mom. I rewarded myself at dinner with a glass of the excellent wine our friend Anne brought over last night (who would have ever thought I'd like cabernet? This one is FABULOUS). I grilled mustard chicken and make roasted potatoes, and it was a lovely meal to usher in summer. Which I'm sure we'll get around to one of these days once it stops being cloudy and cold and rainy. So all of you who have perfect summer weather, complete with air conditioning? Don't want to hear it.
***
Rachel is busy talktalktalktalktalking these days. Mom had an excellent suggestion: Tell her to play with her imaginary friend in her bedroom. Great idea! Luckily when she got home from the science museum with Drew, she was perfectly content to color and play with her paper dolls in her room so I had time to get dinner going and finish the linen closet.
"I'm going to pretend yes is no and no is yes, OK?" Rachel asked at breakfast. "I have purple hair! Write that down!"
***
I told Rachel the story of the half-eaten candy in our pantry in 8K (remember, Mom and Dad?) that turned out to be the likely result of a mouse that made its way into the apartment, gnawed open the bag of mini- Almond Joys and Mounds, and for some inexplicable reason just took one bite of each candy and then went onto the next one. Mom and Dad stuffed some steel wool into the opening of a pipe and told Daniella and me not to open the pantry door that night....and the problem was solved.
"What if a mouse came in and ate all our food and ate up all the tomatoes and the salad dressing..that would be a DISASTER!" Rachel said.
***
One great thing about Rachel is that she really seems to have a deep connection to Valerie even though they've only met a few times. It's as if she realizes that Valerie is her only relative her age.
"Can we go to New York sometime and see Valerie?" Rachel asked at breakfast. "I love her as big as the city and the sidewalk and the whole school and the house. That's how much I love her. And the street! And all our clothes. That's how much I love her. She's not my cousin, she's my sister. SISTER VALERIE!"
***
"Who's sitting in that chair?" Rachel said, pointing to the empty chair near the window next to the driveway.
"Your invisible...." I started to say.
"Elijah!" my non-Jewish husband piped up.
"Who is Elijah?" Rachel asked.
"Who IS Elijah?" I said, temporarily forgetting.
"Elijah is a prophet," Drew answered.
"Yeah," I replied. "And he's listening to everything you say!"
Monday, May 28, 2012
Happy Memorial Day weekend, Part 2
So, yesterday (Sunday) was kind of a mixed day. I met a good friend of mine, Paige, for brunch at Podnah's, a fantastic barbecue place where Drew, Rachel and I usually go for dinner. Paige was in town from Eugene without her two kids; she used to work for the Oregonian but now writes while her husband is publisher of the University of Oregon student newspaper. We had a great talk.
On the way home I zipped into some open houses (just to get ideas about what to do about our basement), then came back to make a chocolate silk pie and do some light cleaning before our friend Anne came to dinner. Anne is a reporter with the Oregonian. She's a widow in her 50s with no kids; her parents (90-year-old dad and 85-year-old mom) live in Ohio and she has decided to take a three-month leave to take care of them (although she has already sold her house in Portland and held a garage sale, so our guess is she ain't coming back).
Rachel knows Anne well; she was a frequent dinner guest while Drew was at Columbia and was always game to come over on Sunday and extravagantly compliment me on my cooking (and she unfailingly brought a gift for Rachel, which I always appreciated). When Rachel heard that Anne was leaving town, she decided to give her a gift -- a snow globe she made in preschool -- and insisted on filling out a card with a message (dictated to Mommy, of course) and draw a picture. I could tell Anne was really touched by the gift, or maybe it was the multiple hugs Rachel gave her, unprompted.
Drew made duck and wild rice and salad; my contribution was the pie, which came out better than it ever has. We talked even after Rachel went to bed, and I was struck with how life changes so quickly. Anne lost her husband about the same time I lost my job, and now we both are in completely different situations, moving on. I'll never forget her loyalty after the Oregonian fired me unjustly, and how she took me out for lunch and told me it was the best thing that had happened to me, that I had won my freedom and I'd be able to write whatever I wanted, the way I wanted. At the time I didn't believe, her, and I'm still not quite sure I believe her, but there was a kind of truth to what she said. And now she's leaving, and although we'll keep in touch on Facebook it won't be the same. And that makes me sad.
On the way home I zipped into some open houses (just to get ideas about what to do about our basement), then came back to make a chocolate silk pie and do some light cleaning before our friend Anne came to dinner. Anne is a reporter with the Oregonian. She's a widow in her 50s with no kids; her parents (90-year-old dad and 85-year-old mom) live in Ohio and she has decided to take a three-month leave to take care of them (although she has already sold her house in Portland and held a garage sale, so our guess is she ain't coming back).
Rachel knows Anne well; she was a frequent dinner guest while Drew was at Columbia and was always game to come over on Sunday and extravagantly compliment me on my cooking (and she unfailingly brought a gift for Rachel, which I always appreciated). When Rachel heard that Anne was leaving town, she decided to give her a gift -- a snow globe she made in preschool -- and insisted on filling out a card with a message (dictated to Mommy, of course) and draw a picture. I could tell Anne was really touched by the gift, or maybe it was the multiple hugs Rachel gave her, unprompted.
Drew made duck and wild rice and salad; my contribution was the pie, which came out better than it ever has. We talked even after Rachel went to bed, and I was struck with how life changes so quickly. Anne lost her husband about the same time I lost my job, and now we both are in completely different situations, moving on. I'll never forget her loyalty after the Oregonian fired me unjustly, and how she took me out for lunch and told me it was the best thing that had happened to me, that I had won my freedom and I'd be able to write whatever I wanted, the way I wanted. At the time I didn't believe, her, and I'm still not quite sure I believe her, but there was a kind of truth to what she said. And now she's leaving, and although we'll keep in touch on Facebook it won't be the same. And that makes me sad.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Breakfast conversation
Here are some gems from this morning:
Rachel (to me): How many names do you have?
Me: Three. Lisa Grace Lednicer.
Rachel: No! You have four!
Me: No, I only have 3.
Rachel: Mommy! MOMMY'S your fourth name!
***
Rachel: What does the Angel of Death do?
Drew: Wanna take that one, Mommy?
Me: When people die, the Angel of Death takes them away.
Rachel: When the rabbi dies, will the Angel of Death take him, too?
Me: Yes.
Rachel: Who will be the new rabbi?
Me: They'll pick a new rabbi.
Rachel: Maybe I can be the rabbi!
Me (stunned): Well, yes. You CAN be a rabbi. Boys AND girls can be rabbis.
(I don't even want to think where this will head).
Rachel (to me): How many names do you have?
Me: Three. Lisa Grace Lednicer.
Rachel: No! You have four!
Me: No, I only have 3.
Rachel: Mommy! MOMMY'S your fourth name!
***
Rachel: What does the Angel of Death do?
Drew: Wanna take that one, Mommy?
Me: When people die, the Angel of Death takes them away.
Rachel: When the rabbi dies, will the Angel of Death take him, too?
Me: Yes.
Rachel: Who will be the new rabbi?
Me: They'll pick a new rabbi.
Rachel: Maybe I can be the rabbi!
Me (stunned): Well, yes. You CAN be a rabbi. Boys AND girls can be rabbis.
(I don't even want to think where this will head).
Zoo day!
Today was the most relaxed day I've had in a while. Since it was forecast to be warm and sunny, I told Drew that I'd spend the whole day with him and Rachel (as opposed to tomorrow, when we'll be hosting a friend for dinner and I'll be meeting another friend for lunch). Drew made pancakes and bacon and we decided to take MAX to the zoo (after concluding that because the trains were running off-schedule and we had difficulty finding a parking space at the station, one of my pet peeves about this city that loves public transportation but makes it incredibly hard to use it). "Can I see the giraffes first?" Rachel said, and as soon as we got to the zoo that's where we went.
We saw a lion, some hippos, orangutans, insects....ate lunch at the grass lawn in front of the amphitheater where they hold concerts in the summer, and then took the zoo train, a delightful 40-minute ride through Forest Park, to Washington Park and back to the zoo. You feel as if you're riding atop the trees, which, in a sense, you are, and although Drew grumbled about my insistence on going, he was glad we did. For all of you who plan to visit during Rachel's birthday...we'll take you too! It's worth it.
Since Rachel skipped her nap, she ended up napping on Drew's lap on the MAX home. Then we decided to eat dinner at the Belmont Food Carts, and she was barely into her pizza before the skies opened up and it rained. And RAINED!!! The ground quickly flooded under the tent where we were sitting, and poor Rachel was terrified; she started sobbing and saying, "I want to head HOME!" I gave her my green fleece and she huddled under Drew's jacket, whimpering and complaining. I couldn't really blame her; I wish we'd been inside and warm and dry, but Drew brought up a good point -- we had talked about grilling steaks tonight, and that would have been impossible in the rain. To say nothing of being caught at the zoo, where there's no shelter.
So all in all, it was a fine day. Drew is putting Rachel to bed and I am preparing to bake the final loaf of quick bread for the woman who bid on my breads at the synagogue dinner and auction last year. I'm baking strawberry bread and throwing in an extra loaf to show my appreciation. Hopefully she'll actually call me up in case she has any catering needs.
We saw a lion, some hippos, orangutans, insects....ate lunch at the grass lawn in front of the amphitheater where they hold concerts in the summer, and then took the zoo train, a delightful 40-minute ride through Forest Park, to Washington Park and back to the zoo. You feel as if you're riding atop the trees, which, in a sense, you are, and although Drew grumbled about my insistence on going, he was glad we did. For all of you who plan to visit during Rachel's birthday...we'll take you too! It's worth it.
Since Rachel skipped her nap, she ended up napping on Drew's lap on the MAX home. Then we decided to eat dinner at the Belmont Food Carts, and she was barely into her pizza before the skies opened up and it rained. And RAINED!!! The ground quickly flooded under the tent where we were sitting, and poor Rachel was terrified; she started sobbing and saying, "I want to head HOME!" I gave her my green fleece and she huddled under Drew's jacket, whimpering and complaining. I couldn't really blame her; I wish we'd been inside and warm and dry, but Drew brought up a good point -- we had talked about grilling steaks tonight, and that would have been impossible in the rain. To say nothing of being caught at the zoo, where there's no shelter.
So all in all, it was a fine day. Drew is putting Rachel to bed and I am preparing to bake the final loaf of quick bread for the woman who bid on my breads at the synagogue dinner and auction last year. I'm baking strawberry bread and throwing in an extra loaf to show my appreciation. Hopefully she'll actually call me up in case she has any catering needs.
Memorial Day weekend begins....
...with an anniversary. Yes, folks, Drew and I have been married for 15 years as of yesterday. Here's a look at the Lednicer/DeSilver balance sheet:
8 residences
7 cities
6 employers
5 bikes
4 cars
3 overseas vacations
2 fellowships
1 career change
1 book
1 adorable little girl who is a way better gift than either of us deserve
We watched fireworks yesterday night as we were driving home from dinner. (Drew was driving because I'd had one too many Lemon Drops). One of the nice things about living in Portland, as he remarked, is that if you pull your car to the side of the road where a parking space doesn't exist, a cop isn't gonna come and bug you if there are fireworks going off.
We spied a couple with a "Just Married" sign on their windshield. I knocked on the window, the bride rolled it down and I said, "We're celebrating 15 years today!" She looked a little put out, so I quickly left.
When we got home, Liz the babysitter said some nice things about Rachel. She wants the same books read to her that Liz's kindergarten students listen to. "You must have been reading to her for a long time," Liz said. As we were heading to dinner Rachel got very clingy, but Liz said that as soon as we left Rachel said, "I'm glad you're here; I don't mind that Mommy and Daddy left." Relief!
8 residences
7 cities
6 employers
5 bikes
4 cars
3 overseas vacations
2 fellowships
1 career change
1 book
1 adorable little girl who is a way better gift than either of us deserve
We watched fireworks yesterday night as we were driving home from dinner. (Drew was driving because I'd had one too many Lemon Drops). One of the nice things about living in Portland, as he remarked, is that if you pull your car to the side of the road where a parking space doesn't exist, a cop isn't gonna come and bug you if there are fireworks going off.
We spied a couple with a "Just Married" sign on their windshield. I knocked on the window, the bride rolled it down and I said, "We're celebrating 15 years today!" She looked a little put out, so I quickly left.
When we got home, Liz the babysitter said some nice things about Rachel. She wants the same books read to her that Liz's kindergarten students listen to. "You must have been reading to her for a long time," Liz said. As we were heading to dinner Rachel got very clingy, but Liz said that as soon as we left Rachel said, "I'm glad you're here; I don't mind that Mommy and Daddy left." Relief!
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Here's how we find out what Rachel eats for lunch
Last night while I was at a retreat of the Oregon Area Jewish Committee, Rachel informed Drew: "I'm getting smarter."
"Yes you are!" Drew replied.
"It's because I eat tuna melts," Rachel said.
Like I said, this is how we follow Rachel's eating habits at St. James.
***
After Rachel was in bed, I gave Drew a blow-by-blow account of the board retreat, including some of my frustrations at the pace of things.
Drew's take: "Your people are neurotic and disputatious!"
My reply: "YOUR people are repressed and drunk!"
Drew: Yeah, but we get shit done.
"Yes you are!" Drew replied.
"It's because I eat tuna melts," Rachel said.
Like I said, this is how we follow Rachel's eating habits at St. James.
***
After Rachel was in bed, I gave Drew a blow-by-blow account of the board retreat, including some of my frustrations at the pace of things.
Drew's take: "Your people are neurotic and disputatious!"
My reply: "YOUR people are repressed and drunk!"
Drew: Yeah, but we get shit done.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Weekend Rachel sayings
Rachel is such a good helper; if I mention my neck hurts she'll run to get the hot pack; if I need to sweep the kitchen floor, she'll get the broom and dustpan and try to sweep up herself. And does a pretty good job!
On Sunday she tried to lift my purse but couldn't quite manage it and left it near the kitchen table.
"This is where I put your purse when I was trying to carry it," she said.
"It was too heavy?" I said.
"Yes. I couldn't BEAR to carry it! It was too heavy!" she said.
***
"Wouldn't it be funny if an eyeball arranged a playdate?" she asked over breakfast.
Why yes, sweetie, it would!
***
"Time to hop in the car!" I said as we headed to the light rail station.
"Look!" Rachel said as she walked into the garage. "I'm being very efficient!"
***
I managed to cut all of our roses that popped into bloom while I was away, and put them in a big vase. One advantage of living in the Pacific Northwest -- the roses. They're as big as baseballs. Almost as big, in fact, as Rachel's head!
"I'm keeping a sharp eye look for the bugs who eat our flowers," Rachel informed me. "Can we save just a little bit for them?"
On Sunday she tried to lift my purse but couldn't quite manage it and left it near the kitchen table.
"This is where I put your purse when I was trying to carry it," she said.
"It was too heavy?" I said.
"Yes. I couldn't BEAR to carry it! It was too heavy!" she said.
***
"Wouldn't it be funny if an eyeball arranged a playdate?" she asked over breakfast.
Why yes, sweetie, it would!
***
"Time to hop in the car!" I said as we headed to the light rail station.
"Look!" Rachel said as she walked into the garage. "I'm being very efficient!"
***
I managed to cut all of our roses that popped into bloom while I was away, and put them in a big vase. One advantage of living in the Pacific Northwest -- the roses. They're as big as baseballs. Almost as big, in fact, as Rachel's head!
"I'm keeping a sharp eye look for the bugs who eat our flowers," Rachel informed me. "Can we save just a little bit for them?"
Weekend recap
So, after getting home and unpacking and processing the whole Patagonia experience, I turned to some writing I needed to do on Saturday. Drew needed to take our VCR in to get fixed (and yes, why bother, it's an ancient technology, but all the readers of this blog know who my husband is. 'Nuff said). I ended up spending most of the afternoon alone with Rachel. We played "baseball" outside -- it was a warm and sunny day -- and, man, is she a good hitter! Wish I could sign her up for tee ball RIGHT NOW, but the earliest I can do so is age 5. Sigh. Hope that gives her enough time to get good enough for softball scholarship to Stanford...
Then we read a couple of books. She is enchanted with a series of stories about girls at horse camp who end up helping rescue Fairyland pets from Jack Frost, who wants the pets for himself. These are LONG chapter books -- 60 pages or so -- and Rachel pays complete attention. (We started reading "Charlotte's Web" the other week, but that apparently was put on hold while I was in California). We've also started playing a word and letter game that Drew invented -- Rachel says a word and I have to say another word with the first letter of the word she said. Then we switch. She really likes this game. Need to find a similar one with numbers.
On Sunday Drew headed to Seattle for his weekend shift (only two more weekends in June to go and he is DONE with this stupid shift for the rest of the year, hurrah!) and Rachel graciously let me sleep in (I awoke with a start at 9 a.m.! to find that she had stayed in her room coloring in her Hello Kitty coloring book. Where did this kid come from? How did I get so lucky??). Then we headed to the Children's Museum on the MAX train, which Rachel loves to take and I do too, it reminds me how much I love public transportation. We met her friend Lila Ann for a playdate, and had a great time even though I was groggy from taking Benadryl the night before (allergies due to pollen in the air, ugh) and got sick during lunch and had to rush to the bathroom. Suzanne, Lila Ann's mom, and Steve, her dad, graciously watched Rachel while I recovered. When it was time to leave, Lila Ann pitched FIT -- sobbing and screaming -- and Rachel watched, wide-eyed, before turning to me and saying, "I won't do that." "Good," I murmured.
Luckily (or not so luckily for Lila Ann), we ran into another one of Rachel and Lila Ann's friend from St. James named Sadie. So, as soon as Lila Ann left, Rachel and Sadie tore through the museum, me and Joe (Sadie's dad) following behind. They played with various plastic water toys in the water room, visited the treehouse room and the dig pit, and the theater room and another exhibit before I insisted to Rachel that we needed to leave. She was sad and got whiny before I ordered her to stop. I knew it was a good idea to leave because she fell asleep on the MAX ride home, then slept almost THREE HOURS before I finally woke her for dinner. She had a minor meltdown, sobbing that she missed Daddy, which I think was because she was disoriented after waking up. She quickly cheered up and had some good suggestions as to what to buy Daddy for Father's Day.
And then it was bedtime.
Then we read a couple of books. She is enchanted with a series of stories about girls at horse camp who end up helping rescue Fairyland pets from Jack Frost, who wants the pets for himself. These are LONG chapter books -- 60 pages or so -- and Rachel pays complete attention. (We started reading "Charlotte's Web" the other week, but that apparently was put on hold while I was in California). We've also started playing a word and letter game that Drew invented -- Rachel says a word and I have to say another word with the first letter of the word she said. Then we switch. She really likes this game. Need to find a similar one with numbers.
On Sunday Drew headed to Seattle for his weekend shift (only two more weekends in June to go and he is DONE with this stupid shift for the rest of the year, hurrah!) and Rachel graciously let me sleep in (I awoke with a start at 9 a.m.! to find that she had stayed in her room coloring in her Hello Kitty coloring book. Where did this kid come from? How did I get so lucky??). Then we headed to the Children's Museum on the MAX train, which Rachel loves to take and I do too, it reminds me how much I love public transportation. We met her friend Lila Ann for a playdate, and had a great time even though I was groggy from taking Benadryl the night before (allergies due to pollen in the air, ugh) and got sick during lunch and had to rush to the bathroom. Suzanne, Lila Ann's mom, and Steve, her dad, graciously watched Rachel while I recovered. When it was time to leave, Lila Ann pitched FIT -- sobbing and screaming -- and Rachel watched, wide-eyed, before turning to me and saying, "I won't do that." "Good," I murmured.
Luckily (or not so luckily for Lila Ann), we ran into another one of Rachel and Lila Ann's friend from St. James named Sadie. So, as soon as Lila Ann left, Rachel and Sadie tore through the museum, me and Joe (Sadie's dad) following behind. They played with various plastic water toys in the water room, visited the treehouse room and the dig pit, and the theater room and another exhibit before I insisted to Rachel that we needed to leave. She was sad and got whiny before I ordered her to stop. I knew it was a good idea to leave because she fell asleep on the MAX ride home, then slept almost THREE HOURS before I finally woke her for dinner. She had a minor meltdown, sobbing that she missed Daddy, which I think was because she was disoriented after waking up. She quickly cheered up and had some good suggestions as to what to buy Daddy for Father's Day.
And then it was bedtime.
Rock on, Patagonia!
So, catering for Patagonia was EXCELLENT. (This is why the blog has been silent for so long, folks. My apologies). Anyway...Dan, my catering partner, and I arrived in Ventura, CA at 7 p.m. last Sunday. The Patagonia folks were kind enough to put us up in a hotel on the beach, provided us with a rental car, and paid our food bills while we were there. Dan hired a local caterer, Ernest Romero, who turned out to be a diamond in the rough. Short, squat and swarthy -- a combination of Mexican/Native American ancestry -- he was the top chef at the freakin' FOUR SEASONS HOTEL IN BEVERLY HILLS before chucking it all because, in his words, he couldn't take the corporate bullshit anymore. So, he caters in Ventura, supplying his homemade sausages to a local butcher shop and, oh, he's also a trained pastry chef. Which turned out to be an unexpected bonus because he doctored up my banana pudding recipe to a FINE example of dessert (i.e., added three kinds of liquor, including bourbon, spritzed on the Nilla wafers, in the custard and on the whipped cream. Too bad y'all weren't there to receive a sample).
Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were all prep days. Our task was somewhat easier because Ernie supplied us a crew of about six people to do the drudge work of chopping veggies, whipping the custard for the pudding, shredding cabbage for coleslaw, etc. (The menu, a real Southern pig pickin', was: Brunswick stew, hush puppies, pulled pork, cole slaw, an assortment of grilled veggies and salad for the vegetarians, and banana pudding, which Patagonia's design director, Lee -- a former prep school classmate of Dan's who also met me while he was living in Portland and working for Nike -- called the "piece de resistance."). I had expected to be doing most, if not all, of the drudge work, so I was pleasantly surprised that that didn't happen. I did plenty of work -- pulling pheasant and rabbit from the bones for the Brunswick stew, and let me say that if I ever cook either of those damn birds again, they will come de-boned or I will likker up before I start -- pulling pork, making the roux for the Brunswick stew (which I stirred for about 45 minutes before realizing the flame on the propane-propelled stove had gone out), oiling and salting the hog before putting it on Ernie's rig, consulting on the pudding -- but it was great not to be totally exhausted by the time Wednesday arrived. I got a good amount of sleep, which helped, too.
So by 5 p.m. Wednesday we were ready to serve. Dan and I manned the pig, which we dressed up with an apple in its mouth, pineapples on either side and edible flowers at the edges -- and my hands quickly cramped up "tonging" the meat (using tongs to place the meat on people's plates). The line went on forever. Forever! Turns out we served 500 people at an event that wasn't supposed to draw more than 300. Luckily Dan had bought 30 more pork butts and a bunch of extra ingredients for the side dishes. Bottom line: Almost no food was wasted, and Ernie thoughtfully arranged the leftovers to go to a homeless shelter nearby (and the Patagonia cafeteria, where employees gorged on banana pudding the day after the feast).
The event was for the company's annual sales meeting, so they flew in people from all over -- Asia, Europe, distant parts of the U.S. -- and I got into some fun conversations with a guy from Bloomfield, NJ ("I'm from Hackensack! We played you guys in tennis!" I said), and a guy who'd grown up in North Portland, lives in LA and really misses Oregon, and a couple who just moved to SoCal from Lake Oswego. We were invited to the company's fashion show for the Spring 2013 line, and heard all about the company's great year and plans for expansion (13 stories in China next year), its involvement with a movie about dams and the controversy surrounding the building of them and whether they need to be torn down, etc. etc. People were warm and genuine and they swooned -- I mean swooned -- over the food, all of it, even the dessert (my responsibility, and I think I've finally convinced Dan that desserts are, in fact, important. It's not all, or even mostly, about the meat).
Patagonia's founder wasn't there, but his wife and son were. We signed books, gave away Dan's barbecue sauce (recently voted the official Eastern Carolina barbecue sauce of the Democratic National Convention, which is being held in Charlotte this year), then stumbled onto our planes on Friday morning. When we got back, we heard that the meal had been the talk of the sales meetings on Thursday. Oh, and the wife of Patagonia's founder inquired whether Dan and I are "mobile." As in, could we travel elsewhere to put on a similar show? Yes, ma'am. Have knives, will travel.
Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were all prep days. Our task was somewhat easier because Ernie supplied us a crew of about six people to do the drudge work of chopping veggies, whipping the custard for the pudding, shredding cabbage for coleslaw, etc. (The menu, a real Southern pig pickin', was: Brunswick stew, hush puppies, pulled pork, cole slaw, an assortment of grilled veggies and salad for the vegetarians, and banana pudding, which Patagonia's design director, Lee -- a former prep school classmate of Dan's who also met me while he was living in Portland and working for Nike -- called the "piece de resistance."). I had expected to be doing most, if not all, of the drudge work, so I was pleasantly surprised that that didn't happen. I did plenty of work -- pulling pheasant and rabbit from the bones for the Brunswick stew, and let me say that if I ever cook either of those damn birds again, they will come de-boned or I will likker up before I start -- pulling pork, making the roux for the Brunswick stew (which I stirred for about 45 minutes before realizing the flame on the propane-propelled stove had gone out), oiling and salting the hog before putting it on Ernie's rig, consulting on the pudding -- but it was great not to be totally exhausted by the time Wednesday arrived. I got a good amount of sleep, which helped, too.
So by 5 p.m. Wednesday we were ready to serve. Dan and I manned the pig, which we dressed up with an apple in its mouth, pineapples on either side and edible flowers at the edges -- and my hands quickly cramped up "tonging" the meat (using tongs to place the meat on people's plates). The line went on forever. Forever! Turns out we served 500 people at an event that wasn't supposed to draw more than 300. Luckily Dan had bought 30 more pork butts and a bunch of extra ingredients for the side dishes. Bottom line: Almost no food was wasted, and Ernie thoughtfully arranged the leftovers to go to a homeless shelter nearby (and the Patagonia cafeteria, where employees gorged on banana pudding the day after the feast).
The event was for the company's annual sales meeting, so they flew in people from all over -- Asia, Europe, distant parts of the U.S. -- and I got into some fun conversations with a guy from Bloomfield, NJ ("I'm from Hackensack! We played you guys in tennis!" I said), and a guy who'd grown up in North Portland, lives in LA and really misses Oregon, and a couple who just moved to SoCal from Lake Oswego. We were invited to the company's fashion show for the Spring 2013 line, and heard all about the company's great year and plans for expansion (13 stories in China next year), its involvement with a movie about dams and the controversy surrounding the building of them and whether they need to be torn down, etc. etc. People were warm and genuine and they swooned -- I mean swooned -- over the food, all of it, even the dessert (my responsibility, and I think I've finally convinced Dan that desserts are, in fact, important. It's not all, or even mostly, about the meat).
Patagonia's founder wasn't there, but his wife and son were. We signed books, gave away Dan's barbecue sauce (recently voted the official Eastern Carolina barbecue sauce of the Democratic National Convention, which is being held in Charlotte this year), then stumbled onto our planes on Friday morning. When we got back, we heard that the meal had been the talk of the sales meetings on Thursday. Oh, and the wife of Patagonia's founder inquired whether Dan and I are "mobile." As in, could we travel elsewhere to put on a similar show? Yes, ma'am. Have knives, will travel.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Mommy and Rachel Shabbat
So, kind of on a whim tonight, I decided to take Rachel to synagogue with me. At first, when I picked her up from preschool, she said she wanted to play in the Park Blocks, but when I said I thought we could go to synagogue together, she immediately said yes and then told Teacher Erin, "I'm going to SYNAGOGUE!"
It was a lovely service, as usual, and the rabbi told a great story about how an ancient rabbi had saved his people by grabbing a scroll of names from the Angel of Death and throwing it in the fire, and I promised Rachel I'd tell her the story again in the car but we never got around to it. Then when we got home, she bustled around making "cupcakes" while I heated up some chicken, noodles and challah. "Can I say the prayers with you?" Rachel asked. "Of COURSE!" I answered, and she accompanied me as I said all three.
While she was helping clear the table she accidentally knocked over a bottle of hard cider that I hadn't finished, and I grabbed her arm and shoved her away from the mess -- which immediately made her run away and cry, loudly, in the bedroom. Instead of rushing in to comfort her, I finished cleaning up and called her in. "I'm folding my laundry!" she said, and indeed, she was. I sat down on the kitchen floor, took her into my lap and said it was OK, I wasn't angry at her.
Then we went into her bedroom and finished folding her laundry, which I hadn't gotten around to doing this morning.
"We're folding laundry together!" she said delightedly.
"Yes!" I answered. "I like that."
"I do, too," she said. "I especially like it because I'm folding laundry with YOU."
Now do you see why I constantly want to cover her with hundreds of kisses and hugs??
***
Cute Rachel sayings of the past few days:
Drew brought Rachel to chorus rehearsal Wednesday night because she said on the way home from preschool: "I really, REALLY want to see Mommy sing tonight!" They had to duck out of rehearsal when Rachel got tired, but I managed to run out to the parking lot and was rewarded with big hugs from my little girl.
"Are YOU going to be a singer when you grow up?" Drew asked Rachel.
"I AM a singer," she insisted. "All girls are singers. Boys are watchers."
It was a lovely service, as usual, and the rabbi told a great story about how an ancient rabbi had saved his people by grabbing a scroll of names from the Angel of Death and throwing it in the fire, and I promised Rachel I'd tell her the story again in the car but we never got around to it. Then when we got home, she bustled around making "cupcakes" while I heated up some chicken, noodles and challah. "Can I say the prayers with you?" Rachel asked. "Of COURSE!" I answered, and she accompanied me as I said all three.
While she was helping clear the table she accidentally knocked over a bottle of hard cider that I hadn't finished, and I grabbed her arm and shoved her away from the mess -- which immediately made her run away and cry, loudly, in the bedroom. Instead of rushing in to comfort her, I finished cleaning up and called her in. "I'm folding my laundry!" she said, and indeed, she was. I sat down on the kitchen floor, took her into my lap and said it was OK, I wasn't angry at her.
Then we went into her bedroom and finished folding her laundry, which I hadn't gotten around to doing this morning.
"We're folding laundry together!" she said delightedly.
"Yes!" I answered. "I like that."
"I do, too," she said. "I especially like it because I'm folding laundry with YOU."
Now do you see why I constantly want to cover her with hundreds of kisses and hugs??
***
Cute Rachel sayings of the past few days:
Drew brought Rachel to chorus rehearsal Wednesday night because she said on the way home from preschool: "I really, REALLY want to see Mommy sing tonight!" They had to duck out of rehearsal when Rachel got tired, but I managed to run out to the parking lot and was rewarded with big hugs from my little girl.
"Are YOU going to be a singer when you grow up?" Drew asked Rachel.
"I AM a singer," she insisted. "All girls are singers. Boys are watchers."
Monday, May 7, 2012
Rachel and Mommy go on an adventure
"Turn on some African music, Mommy," Rachel said today as we headed to preschool.
"OK," I said, always pleased that she loves African music. "Promise me you'll go to Africa someday, OK?"
"You have to come with me!" she insisted. "You have to tell me what plane to catch."
Pause.
"Daddy can stay home and take care of my babies!"
"OK," I said, always pleased that she loves African music. "Promise me you'll go to Africa someday, OK?"
"You have to come with me!" she insisted. "You have to tell me what plane to catch."
Pause.
"Daddy can stay home and take care of my babies!"
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Fabulous Sunday
Well, we had another great day today -- helped by the fact that it was in the high 70s and sunny. Portland gets drunk on sun -- I haven't seen so many people outside since I don't know when. Drew was here until 11, and as soon as he left for Seattle Rachel and I hauled a cooler's worth of food over to my friend Amy's house. Amy is recovering from surgery, so we brought her baked chicken and pasta for dinner; salad, bread and cheese for lunch; and a banana pudding that I was test-driving for a big catering job I have in California next week.
The banana pudding was a huge success; it was 3/4 gone by the time we left (and I left the rest for Amy, her husband Greg and sons Jake and Tony to finish). Rachel amused herself by playing with one of the boy's puzzles, and then managed to charm every man present -- Amy's younger brother, Jay; Greg; and 8-year-old Tony -- to push her around in the boys' toy wagon. "I'm going to CHINA!" she hollered. "Write when you get work!" I yelled back, to her puzzlement. She was so cute taking such delight in riding in a wagon; I need to look for more opportunities to do this kind of thing. Maybe the Zoo Train again, or the old-fashioned train between Portland and Lake Oswego?? I love how she gets excited by the simplest things.
After we finished up there, it was time to go home for nap. I zipped a chocolate chip cake into the oven for our second playdate at Rachel's friend Devin's house in Southwest Portland. I love going there; their house is set in the hills, so high above the street it feels like being in a treehouse. We got there at 5:30 and stayed until almost 9. The girls had a ball dressing up in some princess clothes that Devin has (and I found out where Devin's mom, Linda, got them, so guess what Rachel's gonna get for her 4th birthday??). Devin was in blue; Rachel was in pink; and she even got a little tiara and a necklace to wear. They looked ADORABLE scampering around, walking up the stairs to the 2nd floor of the duplex, then down, then eating dinner (noodles and carrots, so each got to eat chocolate cake) then settling down briefly to watch "Ramona and Beezus," and then the water gun fight. Ah, yes, boys are not the only ones who like to shoot water at each other. The guns came out toward the end of the night, when it had started to turn cool, and Rachel was devastated when I told her we had to go. She cried and cried and cried. "I want a SLEEPOVER!" she said, and when I carefully asked her if she was absolutely sure she was OK staying overnight at another person's house, she said yes. Maybe she's really 8 years old after all?
***
Cute Rachel sayings:
When we were driving to Amy's today, Rachel said:
"That guy was walking across the street when you came, so be careful not to smoosh him. He may be a daddy. Or an uncle!"
***
"Lila Anne is EXACTLY weird!"
"Why?" I asked. "What does she do?"
"She says, 'oh, hello, DUUDE!'"
The banana pudding was a huge success; it was 3/4 gone by the time we left (and I left the rest for Amy, her husband Greg and sons Jake and Tony to finish). Rachel amused herself by playing with one of the boy's puzzles, and then managed to charm every man present -- Amy's younger brother, Jay; Greg; and 8-year-old Tony -- to push her around in the boys' toy wagon. "I'm going to CHINA!" she hollered. "Write when you get work!" I yelled back, to her puzzlement. She was so cute taking such delight in riding in a wagon; I need to look for more opportunities to do this kind of thing. Maybe the Zoo Train again, or the old-fashioned train between Portland and Lake Oswego?? I love how she gets excited by the simplest things.
After we finished up there, it was time to go home for nap. I zipped a chocolate chip cake into the oven for our second playdate at Rachel's friend Devin's house in Southwest Portland. I love going there; their house is set in the hills, so high above the street it feels like being in a treehouse. We got there at 5:30 and stayed until almost 9. The girls had a ball dressing up in some princess clothes that Devin has (and I found out where Devin's mom, Linda, got them, so guess what Rachel's gonna get for her 4th birthday??). Devin was in blue; Rachel was in pink; and she even got a little tiara and a necklace to wear. They looked ADORABLE scampering around, walking up the stairs to the 2nd floor of the duplex, then down, then eating dinner (noodles and carrots, so each got to eat chocolate cake) then settling down briefly to watch "Ramona and Beezus," and then the water gun fight. Ah, yes, boys are not the only ones who like to shoot water at each other. The guns came out toward the end of the night, when it had started to turn cool, and Rachel was devastated when I told her we had to go. She cried and cried and cried. "I want a SLEEPOVER!" she said, and when I carefully asked her if she was absolutely sure she was OK staying overnight at another person's house, she said yes. Maybe she's really 8 years old after all?
***
Cute Rachel sayings:
When we were driving to Amy's today, Rachel said:
"That guy was walking across the street when you came, so be careful not to smoosh him. He may be a daddy. Or an uncle!"
***
"Lila Anne is EXACTLY weird!"
"Why?" I asked. "What does she do?"
"She says, 'oh, hello, DUUDE!'"
More stories
The other day, Rachel asked for a spooky story but then decided halfway through that she wanted it to have "a cheerful ending." So here goes:
Once upon a time there were two little girls named Valerie and Rachel, who went to summer camp together. Summer camp is where you do fun things like swim in a lake, learn how to paddle a canoe and row a boat, and sleep in cots in tents. They went together and had a great time learning how to do all those things. The counselors -- those are like teachers in preschool, but at camp they're called counselors -- warned them to stay out of the woods unless they went there with adults. The other kids in the camp told stories about those woods, how they were filled with monsters and terrible creatures. One kid, in fact, had disappeared from the camp years ago after a walk in the woods. His name was Billy, and the other kids said that sometimes you could still hear the trees whisper his name when the leaves rustled: "Billy! Billy!"
Well, Valerie and Rachel stayed out of the woods until one day Valerie decided it was time to go exploring there. Rachel didn't want to go, but Valerie talked her into it. They both took their flashlights and went deep into the woods...further and further...and Rachel got more and more scared because it got more and more dark...until they came to a cabin that was all lit up inside.
"What's a cabin?" Rachel asked.
"It's like a little house in the woods," I said. "When we go camping with PopPop and Auntie Amanda and Auntie Jenn this summer, we're going to stay in a cabin."
Rachel told Valerie to go and knock on the door, but Valerie was very reluctant. Rachel reminded her that it was her idea to go exploring in the woods, so both girls grabbed their flashlights again and went to the door and knocked. A nice old lady answered and said, "Why hello, girls! My name is Mrs. Posting. What's yours?"
"Umm...Valerie," Valerie said, her voice shaking. "R-R-Rachel," Rachel answered, her voice shaking too.
Mrs. Posting told the girls that she actually owned the summer camp where they were staying. The girls got more comfortable and told Mrs. Posting about the legend of Billy, the boy who disappeared years ago.
Mrs. Posting laughed. "Billy didn't disappear," she said. "He's my son, and he was a counselor at the camp. Then he went away to college and he never returned to the camp. So everyone thought he disappeared, but he really didn't; he's still alive!"
Valerie and Rachel didn't believe her, so Mrs. Posting pointed out a tall man in the living room. "That's Billy right there!" she said. "He's home for a visit."
A tall, 26-year-old man stood up. "I'm Billy," he said in a deep voice. "I didn't disappear. I'm here visiting my mom."
The girls were very relieved, and then Mrs. Posting said, "But you can't tell all the kids the real story about Billy because if you do, then they won't be afraid of going into the woods. The kids need to be worried about monsters and other things so they won't go into the woods without a grownup. Because if they go in the woods alone, even though there aren't any monsters, they might get hurt or get lost. So promise me you won't tell the real story of Billy."
The girls promised, and then Mrs. Posting asked if they wanted some cookies and milk. They all sat down and had a nice snack before the girls went back to camp. And they never told anyone the real story of Billy.
Once upon a time there were two little girls named Valerie and Rachel, who went to summer camp together. Summer camp is where you do fun things like swim in a lake, learn how to paddle a canoe and row a boat, and sleep in cots in tents. They went together and had a great time learning how to do all those things. The counselors -- those are like teachers in preschool, but at camp they're called counselors -- warned them to stay out of the woods unless they went there with adults. The other kids in the camp told stories about those woods, how they were filled with monsters and terrible creatures. One kid, in fact, had disappeared from the camp years ago after a walk in the woods. His name was Billy, and the other kids said that sometimes you could still hear the trees whisper his name when the leaves rustled: "Billy! Billy!"
Well, Valerie and Rachel stayed out of the woods until one day Valerie decided it was time to go exploring there. Rachel didn't want to go, but Valerie talked her into it. They both took their flashlights and went deep into the woods...further and further...and Rachel got more and more scared because it got more and more dark...until they came to a cabin that was all lit up inside.
"What's a cabin?" Rachel asked.
"It's like a little house in the woods," I said. "When we go camping with PopPop and Auntie Amanda and Auntie Jenn this summer, we're going to stay in a cabin."
Rachel told Valerie to go and knock on the door, but Valerie was very reluctant. Rachel reminded her that it was her idea to go exploring in the woods, so both girls grabbed their flashlights again and went to the door and knocked. A nice old lady answered and said, "Why hello, girls! My name is Mrs. Posting. What's yours?"
"Umm...Valerie," Valerie said, her voice shaking. "R-R-Rachel," Rachel answered, her voice shaking too.
Mrs. Posting told the girls that she actually owned the summer camp where they were staying. The girls got more comfortable and told Mrs. Posting about the legend of Billy, the boy who disappeared years ago.
Mrs. Posting laughed. "Billy didn't disappear," she said. "He's my son, and he was a counselor at the camp. Then he went away to college and he never returned to the camp. So everyone thought he disappeared, but he really didn't; he's still alive!"
Valerie and Rachel didn't believe her, so Mrs. Posting pointed out a tall man in the living room. "That's Billy right there!" she said. "He's home for a visit."
A tall, 26-year-old man stood up. "I'm Billy," he said in a deep voice. "I didn't disappear. I'm here visiting my mom."
The girls were very relieved, and then Mrs. Posting said, "But you can't tell all the kids the real story about Billy because if you do, then they won't be afraid of going into the woods. The kids need to be worried about monsters and other things so they won't go into the woods without a grownup. Because if they go in the woods alone, even though there aren't any monsters, they might get hurt or get lost. So promise me you won't tell the real story of Billy."
The girls promised, and then Mrs. Posting asked if they wanted some cookies and milk. They all sat down and had a nice snack before the girls went back to camp. And they never told anyone the real story of Billy.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
New identity for Mommy
"You're a princess, Mommy," Rachel said to me before I left for work yesterday. (Apparently that means I've been demoted from queen?)
"Really?" I said.
"Yes," she said. "Your name is Princess Tiana. I'm Sleeping Beauty and Daddy is Prince Charming. And I'm going to marry Daddy. You're going to marry another prince. And we'll marry in separate rooms of the castle."
OK by me, kid.
"Really?" I said.
"Yes," she said. "Your name is Princess Tiana. I'm Sleeping Beauty and Daddy is Prince Charming. And I'm going to marry Daddy. You're going to marry another prince. And we'll marry in separate rooms of the castle."
OK by me, kid.
Simon Says
Rachel has become quite good at this game. Apparently she learned it at St. James. So at night after reading books she'll say, "Let's play Simon Says!" and then proceeds to beat me at it. When I try to go fast -- "Simon Saystouchyourhead," "Simonsaystouchyournose" "Simonsaystouchyourmouth" "Touchyournose," she complains and says, "Too FAST!" and then prevents herself from getting caught every time.
"I don't want to play with you!" I've protested. "You're too GOOD!"
But I always capitulate because, secretly, I'm proud of her.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Rachel's view of the world, Part 456
I was backing the car out of the driveway on the way to preschool yesterday and almost hit a car coming down the street (or, more accurately, the car almost hit ME). I made some remark -- not a curse word -- and explained to Rachel that if that car had hit us, my car would've been damaged and I would've had to fix it.
"You can drop it off at the car machine," she said. "And then get a RENTAL CAR!"
***
We were talking last night about where all of us will live when she grows up.
"Where will YOU live?" she asked.
"Well, sweetie, we'll probably move to where YOU are," I said.
"When I grow up, I'm going to live in a purple house and if you want to visit me, you can go anytime," she said. "And every time you visit me, I'll give you something. Daddy can wear some of my underwear, and you can wear my stockings and my dresses. I wanna work next to Daddy. The house is going to be close to work."
"You can drop it off at the car machine," she said. "And then get a RENTAL CAR!"
***
We were talking last night about where all of us will live when she grows up.
"Where will YOU live?" she asked.
"Well, sweetie, we'll probably move to where YOU are," I said.
"When I grow up, I'm going to live in a purple house and if you want to visit me, you can go anytime," she said. "And every time you visit me, I'll give you something. Daddy can wear some of my underwear, and you can wear my stockings and my dresses. I wanna work next to Daddy. The house is going to be close to work."
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