In honor of the tenth anniversary of our first date, today I will poke fun (gently, of course) at my husband

I'm not sure if this is the lamest reason or the most awesome Brian has ever given me for requesting a ride home from work:

"If I pedal home in this rain, my hair will run."

I am *so* glad she is talking

At SFO last week, I took Adriana into the restroom with me.

"Mom pee," she observed. And when I didn't respond she repeated herself. "Mom pee! MOM PEE!"

Finally I gave in. Just as she likes us to say aloud the words she signs, she likes to have her words repeated back to her. "That's right. Mom's going to the bathroom."

"Mom pee! Yeah!" She exclaimed one more time. And then as I zipped up my jeans, she waved to the flushing toilet. "Mom! Pee! Bye-bye!"

The people waiting in line smiled at us as we emerged from the stall. 

A lesson learned

Look at this picture and see if you can tell what's wrong:



We had a wonderful day at a tree farm in the Santa Cruz mountains Saturday. We had planned on getting a tree at a local lot this weekend, but then a friend mentioned going to a farm to cut one, and I realized that would be such a fun way to spend the day. So I picked a farm, and we headed out.

At first, I felt overwhelmed: the farm was huge and there were so many trees to pick from. "You know that study about jam?" I said to Brian. "This is just too many choices." He told me that my problems was that I was an optimizer rather than a satisfier. Hi. We are nerds.

But it was a fun way to spend a day. We wandered around trying to pick a tree for a while, ate a picnic lunch in the sun, and then wandered some more. We studied trees from different angles, discussed their shape and color, and tried to imagine them in our apartment. It took a couple of hours, but finally, as we admired one and were close to selecting it, Adriana began to throw a tantrum (because--in what was clearly the act of a mean mother--I wouldn't let her hit me with a stick), and, realizing how long we'd been out and how far past nap time we were, Brian began sawing.

And then he went to get the car and hoisted the tree on top and got ready to tie it on. I stopped him.

"Shouldn't we close the doors and put the twine through the windows?" I asked. "That way the doors will close properly and we won't have to worry about them cutting through the twine." He shrugged and we rolled down the windows and did it my way.

And then the tree was on snugly and I began to giggle as I looked at the car.

"What?" Brian asked.

I laughed harder. "We tied the doors shut." I couldn't stop laughing. Once I got control of myself, I climbed through a window and Brian passed Adriana through to me, which she thought was fantastic. Then he climbed in and we drove back through the farm, debating who was going to have to get out at the entrance to pay for the tree. Luckily, they came up to the car to get the money and we didn't have to embarrass ourselves with our mistake in front of others.

Nevertheless: "I am so telling the Internet about this," I informed Brian as we headed back toward Highway 17. "It will help us remember for next year."

Hmmmm

At one point Brian was entertaining himself while reading The Paper Bag Princess to Adriana by telling her that it is a story about what happened to me when I was younger. And so I am not surprised when I read it to her and she points to the picture of Princess Elizabeth and signs "mama." 

But should I be concerned that yesterday, every single time we read her dinosaur book, she signed "mama" as she pointed to the picture of the tyrannosaurus rex?

I think we have a new family handshake

Tonight I didn't want to cook, so we went out to dinner at the Mexican restaurant around the corner. At some point during the meal, Adriana and Brian made some sort of deal (I think about staying in her chair). "Shake hands?" Brian said, extending his.

She looked at him for a moment and then studied her hands, obviously befuddled. Finally, she shook both hands in front of her, as she does after she washes them, to shake off the water. Then she went back to her rice and beans and fish, while Brian and I cracked up. 

"Should I teach her how to shake hands?" he asked.

"Oh, please don't. This way is just too cute."

Needs: Simple and few

I am always so happy to be home, even after a nice trip away. We had a wonderful time visiting Brian's parents for Thanksgiving. The Thanksgiving feast was fantastic, visiting with family friends was fun, having ready access to multiple people willing to keep an eye on Adriana was relaxing, and access to multiple kinds of pie at a moment's notice was a dream come true. But we came home on Saturday, and that was the right thing to do. Not only was it cheaper to fly on Saturday rather than Sunday, but the airports were relatively empty. After some trips we get home late on Sunday night with nothing in the house for dinner, and on top of our normal busy-ness during the week, I start off Monday with unpacking and extra laundry. By getting home on Saturday afternoon, we changed that. Brian took Adriana straight to the park while I unloaded the car, started laundry, sorted through mail, and defrosted some soup for our dinner. Then Brian came home and made margaritas* and we played with the kiddo, hoping she would get a second wind in spite of her very short nap. We ate dinner together and Brian bathed the baby while I cleaned up. And then she went to bed early.

Plus, now we have this extra day at home together. It's the same Sunday we have every week. I get up early to have some time to myself, and when Brian and Adriana get up we will all eat breakfast and ride our bikes to the farmers' market. We may pick up lunch and stop at the park on the way home, or we may just go home and have a park trip after Adriana's nap. 

It's all so simple, so mundane, and yet it's exactly what I want, exactly why this is home, and exactly why I am so glad to be here.

*"Hmmm," I said, finishing mine, "I was hungry and thirsty, so I poured myself a glass of water and then drank a margarita instead." 

"Well," Brian said, "that shows a remarkable....sense of adventure."

Idea

Adriana is fascinated by crayons these days. As soon as she was out of bed and changed this morning, she found a piece of paper and demanded her box of washable crayons. She doodles lopsided circles, then points and signs "flower." She signs dog when she points and the purple lines trailing across her page. She presses down hard with bright colors to make bold scribbles. She also picks the wrappers of the crayon, which drives me slightly nuts, since I always wanted to keep my crayons as neat as possible and hated when I had to peel them in order to sharpen them again. And, finally, she chews on them. Other moms have always laughed when I hand Adriana something new to eat and tell her, "It's food. You should put it in your mouth." She's just never been the kind of kid who puts things in her mouth. But for some reason crayons appeal to her, and I have caught her sucking on them from time to time. I stop where when I catch her, but usually I just notice after the fact, when I see that there is some black drool on her chin or a streak of blue on her upper lip. I take comfort in the fact that the box says that they are nontoxic and that she doesn't seem to be taking actual bites out of them. Still, it got me thinking: eating crayons seems like pretty typical kid behavior, and the AAP is always concerned about kids getting enough vitamin D; couldn't Crayola just fortify the crayons and make everyone happy?

Halloween 2009: Planning already in progress

Brian's sister's birthday is on January 4th. There was a rule when she was growing up (that Brian still likes to remind her of) that she couldn't start talking about her birthday until after Thanksgiving. Without such a rule, she began planning her birthday on January 5th, or so I am told. So it is with some wariness that I am bringing up next Halloween just over a week after this year's, but since I married into the Addams family, I figure I will be forgiven.

Usually I dress up as something boring and not very scary for Halloween. The past three years have seen me as a cat, a simple witch, Hermione Granger. But I have a costume figured out for next year, one that amuses me and is guaranteed to terrify at least 52% of Californians: I'll team up with a female friend and we'll both put on wedding dresses and go around as two adults in a loving, committed relationship who just wish we could legalize our marriage.

To Michael Pollan and the editors of the New York Times magazine

You do not mean "like." You mean "such as."

Elitist

Seven hours into our nine hour trek home from a weekend up in Humboldt County:

Brian: I can't believe I'm letting Adriana just reach in to the bag of Pirate's Booty.*

Me: Why? Is that somehow worse than handing her pieces to eat?

Brian: It just gives me images of her parked on a couch, watching TV with a bag of Cheetos.

Me: But this is totally different. These are the Whole Foods version of Cheetos, and she's listening to NPR. In a Prius.

*Actual conversation did not contain hyperlink. Although that would be totally awesome. And also maybe possible if I had an iPhone. I'm pretty sure iPhones do that sort of thing.

Hi Mary Ellen!

Look! It's not a sandwich recipe anymore! Aren't you happy?

Instead, here are some pictures of a little girl eating corn:

Science lesson: Shattering Pyrex

Yesterday as I was putting away some dishes, two Pyrex measuring cups that I had nested together on a shelf above my head came crashing down and bounced off of my water glass on the counter onto the floor. I put the measuring cups back up on the shelf, stuck the baby in her highchair, and set about cleaning up the shattered water glass. Later in the day, when my friend Adam and I were getting ready to make margaritas, I pulled down the measuring cups and found that they were wedged together. It sometimes happens, since they aren't really meant to be like that, but unlike all previous times, just giving them a little twist didn't do the trick. I assumed the impact from the earlier fall is what made the difference.

Adam and I considered the possiblities as we took turns twisting and prying at the cups. Hot water? Cold water? Which would make the glass expand and which would make it contract? And besides, if they both expanded or contracted, what good would it do? Where was an engineer when the humanities and sociology majors needed one? (Oh, right. He was at work, celebrating his 30th birthday with a singing telegram in the form of a gorilla in a tutu.) We decided that ice would make the glass contract, both of us having some memory of water being an anomaly because it expands as it freezes. But then Adam started to worry about whether the glass would break if exposed to extreme temperatures.

"No, I think Pyrex is meant to survive temperatures like that. That's why you bake with it," I said. "Besides I think it was made for like train lanterns or something initially. I read an article about it once. Maybe in the New Yorker. I mean, doesn't that sound like a New Yorker kind of article? A twenty-page exposition on the history of Pyrex?"

Adam turned to Google, typing in "nested pyrex stuck," or something along those lines. And then began reading articles about an investigation into exploding Pyrex. After a few of those he came to a message board where people had discussed exactly our problem. Drinking glasses would be easier to separate, as Pyrex by design doesn't expand or contract quite as easily with temperature changes, but it could be done. I filled the one-cup measure with ice and poured water of the top of it and then submerged the quart-sized measuring up into a sink of hot water.

Adam went back to browsing articles about Pyrex that had essentially exploded at high heat. I tried wiggling the measuring cups apart after a minute, but stepped away when I discovered they were still wedged together quite firmly. Adam read a paragraph to me, and I stopped him.

"Pyrex isn't supposed to do that. And those were probably at much higher temperatures that just the water from my tap." And then there was the sound of shattering glass, as the outer measuring cup broke. Big pieces came off the top, shards of glass scattered around the sink and onto the floor, and the bottom part sat in the sink full of little cracks.

Incidentally, this is the second time I've managed to do in some Pyrex. At one point I managed to drop a large baking pan on the floor at just the right angle to break it into several large pieces.

Recent conversations with Brian

While we listen to the music on this post from Rachel's blog:

Me: I actually like organ music. One time Cyndi and I were at Temple Square, and--

Brian: Let me guess. You didn't get drunk and have sex with anybody?

***

Out of nowhere as he is doing dishes:

Brian: You know, I really love proof by induction.

Me:

***

As I read his cousin's Facebook profile:

Me: Rachael likes your music and my music. She likes Jack Johnson and Simon and Garfunkel, and she likes Jurassic 5 and Ozomatli. Okay, basically she likes everything except country.

Brian: Oh, I'm sure if you asked her, she'd say all kinds of nice things about Shania Twain. California Jews love Shania Twain.

Me: (giggles)

Brian: I should feed you pizza and wine more often. You laugh at more of my jokes.

Me: Feed me pizza and wine? I made the pizza and opened the bottle of wine. And did the dishes afterward.

Brian: Wanna make out?

Am totally psychic

Yesterday I correctly predicted who was at my front door, just moments after I heard knock. Of course, this may have been mostly because on my way to answer it, I saw the huge puddle of water in front of my washer and when you are in an upstairs apartment and your hallway is flooded, the knock on your front door is pretty much certain to be your downstairs neighbor coming to inform you that her ceiling is dripping.

Sometimes I really want to buy a house. But then something like this happens, and it is quite nice to have an emergency maintenance number to call, so that someone else will come pull up the carpet, dispose of the pad underneath, and set a giant fan going. "Nice" because someone else is dealing with it, I mean. Having my hallway and bedroom carpet all pulled up isn't nice. Toddlers and exposed nails? Not a great combo. Adriana was good about staying away last night, but we're abandoning ship today. Grandpa probably needed a baby fix anyhow.

Words I like

• persimmon
• covert
  
• trousers
• indigo
• chuckle
• gossamer
• sea
• onomatopoeia
• rosy
• crud
• delight
• cascade
• ache
• riverbed
• stagger
• daffodil
• ombudsman
• silver
• bitterness
• bougainvillea
• sunset
• hobo
• curve
• arabesque
• mourning
• olive

Pet peeve

I hate it when people whose first language is so obviously not French talking to someone whose first language is so obviously not French insists on pronouncing "croissant" in the French way. What is the point? Other than to make me have a fingernails-on-the-chalkboard cringe when I hear you order your coffee and cwah-sahhhh?

Ah, the trials and tribulations of a white, upper-middle class liberal

On Tuesday I turned on KQED for All Things Considered, and after listening to the pledge drive spiel a couple of times, I went online and made my pledge. Then I kept listening to the program and kept having the news interrupted by the pledge drive spiel. When Brian came home, I complained, as I always do, that it doesn't seem fair that after I've handed over my credit card number I have to keep listening to them asking me for money. But you know what makes it worse? When they add cooler gifts further on in the pledge drive. Next time I am totally waiting to pledge until I hear them name off a gift that I want.

I think gracefulness comes later

Photos courtesy of Grandpa Andy.

Definitely back in California

Yesterday in Palo Alto, an older man saw me and exclaimed, "You have a baby on your back!" It's a reaction I get often, and I usually just nod and smile. (Brian thinks I should say, "Shit! How'd that get there?" or something to that effect.) This man stopped me, though. "What do you call this contraption?" He studied it carefully and asked me a couple of questions about it. Then: "My stepson and his husband are adopting a baby this year. I'll have to let them know about this."

Best husband I ever had, part 2

Last night we ordered pizza so that we wouldn't have to cook or do dishes, and after the baby was in bed we divided up some of the housework that needed to be done.

"I just don't know how the kitchen got so messy all of a sudden," Brian said as he emptied the dishwasher and cleaned off the kitchen counters.

"I haven't done the daily straightening up I do in here the past couple of days," I told him.

"Were you trying to make a point?"

I explained that, no, it was just that the baby had been a handful the past couple of days (that's what I get for gloating about the fact that she hasn't been teething--I think she is again), and since we had planned to go out on Wednesday night anyhow, I just hadn't done the normal clean-ups I do before I cook dinner. And then said something along the lines of being impressed that I can cope with the baby all day and still manage to do even minimal tidying up, and how sometimes on the weekends the amount of time he gets with the baby seems like a lot. Basically I don't remember exactly what he said, just that it warmed my housewifely heart.