In 48 hours, we will be on a plane and grandma-bound. The following five weeks will be hikes and mud pies and raspberries and good microbrews. There will be lots of hugs and slow mornings. I'm excited, and I'm probably tuning out until late July.
We'll kick off the summer with a birthday shout-out to dear JC. May all her birthday year dreams come true. And may our upcoming flight be toddler-drama-free. Yahoo!
I get giddy when design, digital connections, science, and art intersect. Add NPR to that mix, and I'm a sloppy fool. So, when Radiolab ran a story that led to this blog post that led to this art, I had to share it with all my students and all my teaching buddies and annoy over 70 people.
But the connections are REAL and the world is SMALL and art and writing matters. I want those folks to see that. Case in point: The husband and I spent our two years in Prague packing this book around to pubs and also reading the author's occasional writings on blogs and in the English language newspapers. On Goodreads.com recently, P posted a review. And last week the author wrote to P, thanked him for the review, and sent an advance copy of his next book for P to look over. Wowsers!
Lastly, to keep the conversations going and link lives, a gaggle of colleagues and I are ending our year with an eight week sketchbook swap. So proud of these brave sketchers.
'Tis the season.
P is back from a week in Boston (he says we'll live there someday) with treats:
Grand treats.
When he is away, I don't sleep great, so I sometimes have midnight drawing bursts. And in the words of Gus, the Christmas cards are "Over!" A sneak peeK:
I attended a few holiday parties. Thankfully, I have good friends willing to be my dates at all of 'em. It looks like I'm particularly merry, but the truth is, I'm just relieved to not have to walk in that restaurant alone.
It's so good to have P back. The stockings are hung, the tree is trimmed, Gus requests the same Christmas book every night, and it's the second Saturday of Advent.
These pre-Christmas weekends are sacred. We slow down. We light our Advent candles. We take walks. It's a sweaty holiday season on the equator this year, but it almost makes it more special to have to fight against the external forces that try and tell you it's not Christmas. It is Christmas, indeed. And I'm so happy to have both boys home for our celebrating--even if we're hunting lizards rather than throwing snowballs.
A friend reminded me a couple weeks ago about Teacup Theology. That's when you look at the cup of unknown tea you've been handed by your generous host and you decide if you're going to take a sip and savor it and let it do you the good you're intended or if you're going to dump it out and brew your own pot with your own leaves at your own strength. Okay, at it's essence, it's sort of pithy. I'm simple folk these days and needing simple truths; it's giving me pause. I've got a cup of tea that is brimming with tropical goodness: warm afternoons by the pool, long jungle runs, and blooming frangipani. This cup lets me work and travel and be a mama. This cup is filled with really great places and really great people. That's how I know I'm a little off kilter and that this too shall pass, as I'm sniffing the cup and dreaming of something with a bit more autumnal depth: spices and fall colors and hearty root vegetable soups. I'm ignoring that the second pot also comes with wintery burdens that even farmers' market pumpkins can't outweigh.
I've adjusted to an international move three times now, so I know that the awkward month comes. I'm in it. I'm missing the ladies in Prague that taught me to be a mother and loved my boy. I'm missing friends on other continents who used to be here. And I'm knowing that my sister is in her favorite season of all, marbling paper and knitting mittens and probably baking something outrageously good (of course, as I write this, she is hunkered down with extra gasoline and chocolate for what could be some scary days, thanks to nasty Sandy). October is the month for tea with neighbors, and I'm just not feeling it here.
I've been writing Neighbor B long emails and skyping with tough-as-nails LM. I've been making weepy lists of art projects that will just have to wait until holidays. I've been dreaming of learning this, and envying the talented gal that does this. When you're in the awkward month is seems that everyone and everything is being creative and productive and spinning all the plates in the most beautiful ways. And you're just a lady that hasn't even made time to get waxed. And that's a necessity when you're living a tropical cup of tea.
So. What do we do? We come home and take a nap. Because that's one of the perks of this tropical living. And we eat the best bowl of char siew soup anyone could hope for and marvel that our son is learning to use chopsticks. We laugh when he thanks us in Chinese and then clarifies, "That's Mandarin, mom". We read a lot of young adult novels, we dream of afternoons filled with drawing, and we take long walks amongst the mango and banana trees rather than the falling maple leaves. We're back from an island vacation and only four sleeps away from an adventure racing weekend with three outrageous ladies. It's okay. It's more than okay. It's just awkward October, and this too shall pass.
Usual awkward segue:
And because it really is okay, and I can't stay all that reflective for all that long, we're also relishing a delivery of a great tea chaser. Who says beer is expensive in Singapore? You just have to go to the source. And my source has Aventinus.
And while the birthday girl that got this art doesn't partake in the Aventinus herself, she's another great reason to make it through the October melancholy. Living on the same island as Betsy for the second time is a dream come true. She keeps me laughing, thinking, reading, and drinking the occasional Pokka green tea. So happy to get to wish you a happy birthday in person this year, Betsy H.
Gus and I are celebrating one month in the loveliest of limbos today. We left Praha behind (and apparently this blog) for the mountain views, mud puddles, tractors, sprinklers, sandboxes, lakes, good dogs, small town parades, snakes, fresh picked raspberries, Mexican food, hikes, and overall amazingness of many good Grandmas and Grampas. If you are under the age of three, clothing is optional and you've probably added the phrase M & Ms to your vocabulary as well as an inch and or two to your height. Gus has had his first dental appointment (Success and smiles thanks to the best dentists on the planet), chicken nuggets, fish-catching, bear-sighting, and fire truck ride. Life is good in the Wenatchee Valley.
P arrived a few days ago, and the fun factor has only increased. We are tan and can't find our shoes. There are Northwest microbrews in the fridge and neighbors with warm swimming pools. Our family can't be beat, and baby M is one day away from being overdue. Goodness abounds.
It's not just little M that's on the horizon, it's Singapore too. I usually want time to slow down here at the ranch, but this year I'm torn. We've landed a condo we long coveted and that was long occupied by some of the very best folks we know, so good juju fills those walls and good living awaits. I am anxious to move my boys into it, to show Gus the geckos that will share our home, and to take him to all of our favorite haunts. There is so much for him to eat and see and so few days before I'm no longer a stay-at-home mom. I'm trying to savor here and ready myself for savoring there. It's an odd balance.
But it's been an odd balance from the start--leaving dear friends in Prague and settling in to a few weeks of dear friends and family in the states and moving on to dear friends and colleagues in Singapore. At the playground, moms I meet ask where I live, and the answer is so complicated their eyes just glaze over and they shuffle their kids over to the slide and away from the awkward lady. I can't blame them.
I always wonder if we're doing the right thing during these times of transition, and this morning, at one of my less-awkward playground gatherings, a friend of P's quizzed us on overseas life. He and his family are teachers and contemplating a similar leap, and as we talked, P and I both got more animated and more excited. On the car ride home we enjoyed the buzz of knowing that whether in Singapore or Washington, we're doing what we love.
There is so much to love:
Lake Wenatchee. Sigh.
My attempt at Czech pickled hermelin.
Lucky, lucky boy.
There is more being doodled:
There are boxes being packed and refrigerators emptied. Dinners are lentil-heavy and lunches feature a lot of almond butter and brown rice cakes in the name of empyting the pantry. But this fiber is good (anyone need dried beans? come on by) because a recent goodbye-pub-crawl featured two kinds of outrageously stinky cheese, fried eggs on deep-fried toast, pickled camembert, steak tartare, and beef tongue. I really hope our cholesterol levels can hold on until our flight.
Lauren of North Africa is here! (Hey, L.O.N.A. is not a bad acronym for someone that Gus calls Aunt Lola. It just might stick!) Her arrival brings many things:
To begin, she got us out of the house in the afternoon. I can't remember the last time I saw the 4:30pm skies. Normally at 4:38 dinner prep has reached a delicate point and Gus is snacking on playdough and delivery men are buzzing and people are texting and I am running to the window to see if my backpack-wearing husband is on the corner and twenty seven seconds away. Once he's home, I don't like to mess with a good thing and we stay put. And today, after leaving Gus's play date because "if you are not going to treat your friends nicely we are going", I wasn't feeling too spunky. But Lauren brought revival and got us walking (or rather, we drug her on an errand in an effort to be fun and hip Prague-sters). The result was beyond our fathoming----a new and better beer store. And by beer, I mean Aventinus (Tap 6! Tap 6!) from Munich and Delirium Tremens from Belgium and gigantic Kocour bottles that we all carried home in floral shopping bags with glee.
She also brought this:
How can you not befriend someone that juxtaposes French champagne, canned mechouia, and halvah? It's not a complete photo. There was fierce and lively textured art created by one (or both?) of her talented young men. There was also a bag of macarons from a French bakery that Gus and I frequented last week near her Tunisian seaside home. And then there's her. Lauren is all goodness and real conversation and things familiar and deeply loved. She is family, that wicked-smart L, and we are happy to host her in the evenings while she visits Patrick's school during the daytimes to get even smarter.
Lastly, she brought a little organization. I spent Friday's naptime not napping and instead cleaned up a bit and made meals and snacks (I was all about leeks and spinach, so it's Rebar cookbook's Apple, blue cheese, spinach tart and SmittenKitchen baked potato--with leek and added spinach--soup). It's good to have weekend foods and someone with whom we can share them. Lona got me planning ahead, so Monday's sketchbook deadline is met, and we've nothing but free evenings (and possibly a few brews) to savor. Yippee!
We are back from lands of chocolate, cheese, hiking trails, and really great people. A weeklong road trip to Munich and Zurich proved to be exactly what this family needed to gain a little clarity and lose a little Euro (Take note travellers, it's not just Switzerland that requires a toll sticker. The Austrian fine is hefty!).
(fondue--followed by chocolate--with the lovely Rops)
Gus was a champ, sleeping like he'd never slept before and recovering from bronchitis in unfamiliar places. He mooed at Swiss cows and marveled at German forests. Our hosts were all amazing and our weight gains evident. What a great trip.
And now we're back and sorting out some big decisions with lighter hearts and darker German beers. Life is good in Prague. Fall has settled in with freezing temperatures, and homemade soup was on last night's menu. This is a season to savor.
I got a little gutsy and posted some designs to sell, but it's mostly to avoid over or under printing. I'm still not comfortable with seeing doodles in print, but maybe this will all work out. We'll see. In the meantime, I've got a sketchbook project this week and three amazing birthdays to celebrate (Steelie Dan, Bekah, and Annika--Woop woop!). With only six weeks left in the CZ before Oscar and I take full advantage of all the love Grandma and Grampa have to offer, we're living it up!
Our table is heavy with pottery and my belly is full of Polish cuisine. It was a successful 24 hours in Boleslawiec. Lovely drive, lovely ladies, and lovely wares.
The Blue Beetroot bed and breakfast lived up to its reputation. A winner.
The traveling companions were winners as well. And not afraid of a pierogi or two or six.
Hmm.
The pieces I'm keeping. No peeking at the gifts.
Of course, a little something for the Good Husband who skipped a hop festival to spend the weekend with Gus. WHAT a guy.
After listening to a Freakonomics podcast on the Economics of Parenting, I'm feeling a little better. Apparently my ineptitude will not derange the little guy as long as I'm warm and loving and happy for having him. Gus and I both breathe sighs of relief and take heart that we abandoned cleaning for a spontaneous zoo day. Whew.
Other joys were discovered. I revisited the quirky Holesovice market and found it far more navigable and charming without a squealing four-month old strapped to my sweaty body. Gus ran between the zillion stalls of oddities and Neighbor B and I bought the biggest and cheapest bunches of basil you have ever seen. In addition, when I need a copy purse, Gus sized guitar, Hungarian potato pancake, or I heart Prague sweatshirt--I'll know where to return.
For now, I'm content with the basil pesto filling my freezer.
On a buying-local high, the next morning we met Tracy and her patient-with-Gus daughter S at yet another fabulous Praha farmers' market (Jihiro z Podebrad). While S lovingly wrangled wily G around the square (the latter flinging his Vietnamese noodles--thank goodness for the abundance of dogs), Tracy and I bought local butter (from the actual cow owners)*, Moravian cheese, homemade pasta, Bohemia grown raspberries, and cold pints of microbrew. I appreciate a town where one can push her stroller with a plastic cup in hand and receive nary a raised eyebrow.
And today--today little G and I took on our neighborhood market at an hour most folks found appropriate for sleeping. We grabbed some produce, more pasta, the last of the local strawberries, and two packages of fruit dumplings (svestkove knedliky). Steamed Czech dumplings covered in melted butter are one of the greatest things about living here. They are also lunch in this house.
This farmers' market bender is peppered with a visit to an uber-friendly and shockingly reasonable Czech glass bead shop where the shopkeepers--gasp--took Gus from me and gave him a homemade chocolate chip cookie and a bucket of beads to sift, and yet again, fling. When I left, we were all crunching beads underfoot and yet everyone was laughing and smiling and telling me how wonderful that was. I don't understand it, but I support it and will absolutely return.
And, perhaps most joy-producing for me, there is a triptych completed and awaiting its new owner. We hope it adds cheer to her daughter's room.
*Butter note: I am told by smart Tracy (does everyone know this?) that fresh butter changes color throughout the year based on what a cow is eating. Fresh grass vs. hay will alter the color. This makes me want to buy even more butter while the grass is green.
I am getting over myself! As humbly happens, I recently went on a tirade about folks taking themseles too seriously. And then, heh heh heh, the same week I got all serious. Amy Carmichael wrote that we need to keep our spiritual "atmosphere" clear. If we allow even a "fugitive wisp of a cloud float across our sky"--that is, a wish for things to be different--then we create an overcast spirit.
Don't I know it.
I re-entered Praha with more than my fair shares of wishes. There were colds all around and a bee sting of gigantic (you've never seen cankles like this one) proportions. There have been cold rainy days and outings in August in-gasp-sweaters. Wily Gus has been frustrated with his boring old parents and longing along with us for his out-of-this-world grandparents in very loud and parenting-skill-testing ways. We're on doctor's visit number three. Already. This house has rattled and shook with wishes, and I've felt the result of that stinking thinking in an overcast heart.
But, no more gosh darn it! How can one hope for otherness when one has so much goodness? I take note:
1. A kinder-than-he-needs-to-be Tony M gave me a completely random and treasured gift of DELECTABLE Delirium Tremens. I can count the bottles of the golden Belgian awesomeness I've been privvy to enjoy in my life on one hand. At 8.5% that's probably enough for a lifetime. Get thee to a specialty bottle shop and buy your own pink elephant.
2. The farmers' market is back in action. There has been blue cheese walnut sauce on fresh tagliatelle pasta and berry filled dumplings and organic carrot carrot cake and farm fresh egg and veggie quiche on our table.
3. We've brunched and happy houred and biked and brewery toured and walked and dined and breakfasted and Skyped and coffeed and teaed and desserted and jogged and baby grouped with good folks. Today's gathering honored a special guest who leaves our Old MacDonald refrains for the big kids at skola. Gus will miss his musical pal Dee-Dee.
Worried about the toothpaste decorating the cake? (famers' market carrots carrot cake!)
4. I've returned to the drawing table with commission pieces and celebration doodles.
5. There are library books newly checked-out, hand-me-down dresses acquired, new babies born, road trips planned, awfully nice neighbors relied upon (perhaps no longer with prepositions hanging out there like that), and Desigual sales attended.
Blue skies!
Neighbor B would not tolerate me bringing my own cake to dinner. Nor would she tolerate me celebrating her own special day last month. So she had to suffer unbirthday acknowledgments on my birthday. I think the marzipan/bitter chocolate combination opened her heart enough to forgive me.
Despite stacking it lopsided, overbaking the layers, and forgetting to toast the pistachios---the unbirthday cake was pretty tasty. Smitten Kitchen cakes are amazing. Always.
Rowdy Gus found wearing his dad's shoes (and clapping to himself) is amazing too.
And a homemade lacy knitted scarf in fab colors from a talented sister is really amazing.
Eating two slices of cake is not amazing, but it is enjoyable. Neighbor B's dessert took the prize; it was a flourless, mascarpone wonder.
My good day began with old friends, coffee, and pastries and ended with new friends, Leffe Brune, and Indian food. I'm a lucky girl!
That pretty, witty, and Northwesty Kaye Syrah. Her sweet potato alecheladas were dead on. I wasn't sure I was up for a mole sweet potato medley, but Kaye Syrah--you've done good! (of course)
Thanks to a fab potraviny, I've always got a supply of sweet potatoes within walking distance.
And thanks to a creative Gus, I've got at least 8 minutes to chop those potatoes as long as he has his play-dough and extra-long straw.
The results were delish. I told a neighbor to tuck a pb & j in her purse in case my efforts were a bust, but these enchiladas are now a part of the family rotation. I worried they would be cloyingly sweet, but the black beans, beer (Staropramen Granat), and chipotle balanced the rich sweet potato with the right amount of savory. I think our chipotle peppers and chiles must be uber-hot here in Praha, as I only added about 1/4 the amount KS listed and things were quite caliente. Likewise with the chile powder.
The guest tasters all seemed happy despite the four-alarm melt-down from Gus and my brain cells functioning only on a "did you hear Maria and Arnold split?" level. Sigh. Thank you, Kaye Syrah and tolerant Guest Tasters.
(insert transition to art here)
Sneak peek at something soon to be in the mail to celebrate a so-very-exciting-and-blessed wedding from, oh, a year ago?
My mother helped us fend off the "Christmas Greedies" with little gifts on each Saturday of Advent. Usually they were something for us to do or something that marked time or something that added to the festive spirit of the house: Advent calendars (thus my love of doors in art), coloring books (my love of coloring in the lines), ornaments (apparently didn't rub off on me--there's no tree in this house), etc. She called them Saturday Surprises, and they were simply wonderful. And so, this year, P and Gus shared in our new family tradition receiving special treats upon awaking this past Saturday. And wouldn't you know it? There was a Saturday Surprise for me too. And at 9.5%, I'd say it was exactly what this mama needed to feel festive.
