Bed

When R asked me what I wanted for my birthday I said, "I'd like to sleep-in, snuggled in a hotel bed." Since sleeping-in at home is impossible due to two very persuasive wake-up callers, it needs to happen elsewhere. R surprised me with a night at Hotel Andra.

We checked in three hours early to relax and indulge in a disco nap. Our corner suite was roomy yet cozy and the sun streamed in through the south and west windows for a few bright moments. Once we settled in with our bags, we made a trip across the street to the Dahlia Bakery for some take out lunch to eat in the room. Then, nap time.

And by nap I don't mean sleep, just rather lay there uninterruptedly. Ever since having babies I haven't been able to sleep during the day. Even when I was sleep deprived for months on end with newborns, I couldn't nap. But I can laze around for hours if permitted. And laying in that hotel bed was the most relaxing non-nap I've had in as long as I can remember.

I removed the decorative bedspread, then slipped under the down comforter, which felt like light to medium warmth. The down pillows were a bit under-filled for my taste, so I smooshed them to my desired firmness and lay my head contentedly.

The mattress was soft, different from our own at home, but it was incredibly comfortable. It allowed you to sink into it, then hover weightlessly. The warmth of the cover and the muffled sounds from outside made it feel womb-like and protected.

The sheets were perfection. 300+ thread count crisp yet soft cotton with white-on-white stripes. Clean sheets are very high on my list of the most wonderful things in life (just under a clean house that I didn't have to clean). Their softness is physically comforting. Their purity is spiritually cleansing. I lay there in the quiet and listened to the down float under the fabric.

After a few hours it was time to get ready. Though I didn't sleep I was refreshed. And the next morning I didn't exactly sleep-in, but I didn't get up either. What a treat it was to have those quiet hours with no risk of disturbance. Thank you to those that made it possible for us to leave the kids carefree.

And thank you to everyone who celebrated with me at Vessel. It was delightful to see you and restful in a different but equally lovely way.

Now I'm off to my own clean sheets and sea of down.

Hey little sister, what have you done...

Billy Idol's White Wedding came on the car radio the other day and I turned it up as I've always done. For my own wedding I requested this be the first song played as our reception began. I wanted to open the night to my friends in a way that suggested that just because we were now married, it didn't mean we were automatically stodgy.

After I thought of that moment at my wedding, I imagined Harrison singing the song at Gigi's wedding (apparently Idol wrote the song for his own sister).

In my fantasy we are at the reception and it is late in the evening. The older guests have retired home or to their hotel rooms, so the youngsters are left to dance the night away.

Harrison is in his smart black tux, top two buttons opened on his crisp white shirt, bowtie torn off hours before. He has control of the mike again (he made a toast earlier, then handed it off to others, including Gigi's girlfriends who teased her about her past boyfriends, much to the dismay of the groom). The DJ has a special karaoke copy of White Wedding for Harrison to belt away, which he does with champagne gusto.

Gigi dances with her bridesmaids on the dance floor, tulle flying and chignons unraveling everywhere. She's grinning at her brother in wild amusement. They've put on so many family shows together as children that this is just another naturally nostalgic moment for the both of them.

Robin and I, in our own wedding costumes, are of course laughing hysterically because Harrison is behaving exactly as Robin did some 30 years earlier.

It's nice to look forward to things this weekend, or this summer, or next year. But there's also a comforting excitement in anticipating the far off future because it makes you feel young today. In thirty years I'll be 65 (which by then may be the new 35 anyway). I want to make it there and I want to be dancing. White wedding or not.

What doesn't send you to the loony bin makes you stronger

I think I'm doing pretty good. Not as a wife or mother, but in keeping sane. Yesterday I had one of those This is What I Do All Day days and I held it together, almost coasted.

In the morning there was a 7.8 tantrum by a 4-year-old followed by an extended time-out right before school.

At the coffee shop play area G managed to make three kids cry before I finally decided that sipping tea wasn't so relaxing after all.

At home G pooped on a rug.

Just as I started cooking dinner G dumped a watering can filled with mud onto the kitchen floor.

While washing hands in the bathroom the kids knocked a glass onto the tile. Of course everyone was barefoot and the dinner pots were boiling over, so I rushed around keeping bare feet from broken glass, cleaning it up, and minding dinner at the same time.

And what was for dinner? Spaghetti. Well now I was just asking for it.

Just to keep things interesting, I tried making myself a salad (I don't like spaghetti) while the kids made a mess of their noodles. G needed help, so while feeding her I burnt my pine nuts in the toaster oven. Twice. Do you know how much pine nuts cost?

To top it off, it was R's running night, so I was solo putting the kids to bed.

Through it all I maintained composure (mostly). I don't know if it's because I'm finally getting used to this SAHM gig or because I have things to look forward to or because these kinds of days only come once or twice a week instead of every day like they used to. Whatever it is, I hope it means I'm building up an immunity to insanity. That can only be to my benefit as the years creep up.

Potluck Perfection

While rummaging through our basement bookshelves I found this recipe card from 1970. Jellied Chicken Salad. Does that look tasty or what?

I'm not showing the recipe side because I don't want anyone to steal it from me. All I'm revealing is there's a lot of pimento product in it. If you want to taste this delectable dish, you'll just have to invite me over for dinner.

No End in Sight

Since this week marks the fifth anniversary of the US invasion of Iraq, might I recommend the film No End in Sight.

I've watched films, read articles and blog posts, even saw a play about the Iraq war, but it seems every new interview and piece of information adds to the messy puzzle. The play and most of what I've read dealt with the political actions and deception that led to the decision to start the war. By contrast No End in Sight deals more with the utter absence of war-planning that caused serious mistakes, the insurgency and a complicated mess.

The film mentions that there were two years of planning prior to WWII, but only 90 days before our invasion of Iraq. As a result, looting and lawlessness broke out immediately and got worse from there. The cost (at the time the film was made) of looting alone cost $12 billion. Rumsfeld didn't help gain respect for the US military when he mocked the reports of the destruction. While Iraq's National Library and Musuem were looted, the oil ministry was the only building protected by our military. Telling.

The film also goes into the ill-planned military decisions that led to the insurgency, most notably the surprise disbanding of the Iraqi army which put 500,000 bitter soldiers (who knew where to find weapons) out of work. One image that struck me was of a map showing who controls what parts of Baghdad. It's a bloody mess.

The costs of the war are also laid out. The film says $1.8 trillion. However, an excerpt from The Three Trillion Dollar War in this month's Vanity Fair estimates that it will eventually cost, you guessed it, $3 trillion.

Anyway, not much detail in this post, just wanted to give a recommendation.

No Country for Old Men

My friend mentioned yesterday that he saw No Country for Old Men, but wouldn't talk about it or even say whether he liked it until I saw it myself. That meant of course that I (R) had to run out and rent the movie right away. I wavered about whether to spoil it in my post by listing all my questions, but I won't. However, I will say openly (and disappointingly) that I couldn't enjoy it. Maybe this was a case where reading the book might have been the better option.

I'm going to sound like a bore even to myself, but the movie left me weary. Perhaps I don't have the patience for that kind of violence anymore or I just wasn't in the mood to be up half the night with questions swirling around my head.

I respect good direction, cinematography, acting and dialogue. Parsed out, each was brilliant, and I pointed them out while we watched. But I couldn't ignore the blood enough to appreciate them, and ended up disagreeing with the movie's Best Picture win. In my frustration I even thought that if a movie has to resort to that much violence to entertain the audience, it lacks creativity and doesn't deserve to win. Then again, The Departed is one of my favorite movies and Sweeney Todd didn't bother me. Is it because Javier Bardem was so convincing a psychopath? Probably.

I know my aversion has much to do with being a mother. Before I had little ones I had a stronger stomach for violent movies. But when you spend all your waking hours trying to protect children, you're repulsed and angered by anything that threatens their safety, even if that threat is remote or only in the form of a nightmarish image. Maybe I should accept that I'm no longer the target audience.

Some say these types of movies are cathartic, and I was going to dismiss that, but then realized my kids looked a bit different this morning. Their toothy smiles took on an extra significance - innocence emblazoned across their fresh faces. Sometimes you need to see the devil to appreciate the angels.

My opinion of No Country for Old Men might be simplistic because it ignores the movie's heavy undertones of human nature and our helplessness to prevent it. So be it. Maybe I'll rethink my opinion by discussing it. I'm open to suggestions.

2 Days in Paris

I had planned on watching 2 Days in Paris by myself, but ended up with two charming dates.

My first date was H, who I couldn't get to go to sleep. He kept walking into the living room, looking at me with his big, blue, bewitching eyes. Actually he was looking at my salad, so I let him sit with me and pick at my croutons. I figured there was no violence in the film, so it couldn't hurt. He sat with me for about ten minutes and through three curse words, after which I made a better effort to coax him to sleep.

But before putting him to bed, he made two comments. The first was when Adam Goldberg's character says, in reference to some American tourists, "They voted for Bush." H turned to me with the most perplexed look on his face and questioned, "They VOTED FOR BUSH??, as if to say, "How crazy are they!?"

He's four, so I don't think he really knows who Bush is, but the comment couldn't have been delivered any more appropriately. Like he needed another reason for me to think he was cool.

The second comment was when Julie Delpy and Goldberg go into her parents' Parisian bathroom and Goldberg points out the dangerous mold on the wall, while Delpy tries to convince him that it's perfectly harmless. H turns to me, holding his nose closed with one hand and simulating hand-washing with the other and says, "Oh, so they (French people) have to wash their hands with only one hand." I lost it.

Right as H fell asleep, R came home from running and looked curiously at the TV. So I let him catch up and we watched the rest of the movie together. I don't remember the last time he and I laughed so hard watching a movie. We had to pause repeatedly to get the giggles out. Even if you don't have French heritage, there's lots to laugh at. Julie Delpy wrote, directed and starred in it (how sexy is that?) and Goldberg plays his character spot on.

It's one of the funnier romantic comedies (I think there are ten total), so I'd recommend it as a treat to enjoy over champers and nibbley things.

Toast

Tonight while watching No End in Sight I had the craving for some tea and toast made with a dense multi-grain bread I'd never had before. When I used the bread to make lunch for H earlier I thought, "This is going to make the best toast ever."

I paused the movie and went to the kitchen. I toasted the bread and laid three thick pats of butter on top (I like my butter partially melted, but still visible in its creamy form). Then I spooned the freshest tasting cherry jam on top. It looked good. Next to the toast I placed a ceramic saucer which would hold my tea bag.

Since my tea was still steeping, I decided to prep for breakfast. This may sound nerdy, but I'm telling you that making pre-coffee breakfast while a child is screaming for food is disorienting. It's nice to have things laid out in advance.

Anyway, when I reached up in the cupboard for the kids' melamine plates, the plates slipped and fell onto the saucer, shattering it into pieces. Something about the way the plates fell made the saucer shards fly up and land on my toast, sprinkling it like powdered sugar. It was toast.

So I tossed the shrapnel'd toast and made a new one. It was indeed the best toast I have EVER had. Later I made another slice and called it a night.

Sprechen Sie Roach?

A few days ago I spotted some ants in the kitchen. The sight of them made my body so tense that I hurt my back picking up G. With the exception of spiders (who eat evil flies), the sight of bugs within the walls of my home puts me beyond edge.

I pretended to be an ant myself and crept along the kitchen floor hunting for where their lair might be. After finding it in the space between the wall and the chopping block cabinet, I promptly got rid of the visible ants.

Harrison caught me stepping on a crunchy one and gasped, "You're killing NATURE?!" Uh-oh.

I explained that sometimes nature invades a space that should have nothing to do with nature. The inside of a suburban kitchen is one of those spaces.

Actually, I simply said, "Ants in the kitchen are yucky. I'm just going to tell the ants they'd be happier outside." He reluctantly accepted that answer.

Then I disinfected the floor and the cabinet under the sink and inspected all other spaces for drops of anything sweet.

Online we learned that boric acid is effective in getting rid of ants. It liquifies their insides after they eat it. So I called our local mom and pop General Store and asked if they carried it. They did.

When I got to the General Store I searched for the stuff but couldn't find it. It took three employees to figure out that although their computer system listed boric acid as an inventory item, the product they actually carried had other ingredients in it and was displayed under a different name.

Product:
Safer brand Roach & Ant Killing Powder

Ingredients:
Boric Acid - 40%
Inert Ingredients (Flour, powdered sugar, release matrix) - 59.995%
German Cockroach Pheromone - .005%

Umm, I want German Cockroach Pheromone in my home be-cause WHY??

All I could think of was dabbing the powder behind my ears, then lounging around sipping a cocktail, waiting for a troop of studly, stern-faced roaches wearing shiny black boots to pick me up.

I bought it anyway, desperate to get rid of the ants.

At home I banished the kids to the other end of the house, put on my long gloves, held my breath and squirted the powder into the crevice that harbored the army. Then I waited.

The next morning I saw one large ant limping pathetically in plain view of my slippered foot. He was a strong one I guess. No roaches demanding schnitzel, thankfully.

Probably not a story to be read over breakfast, but I thought it might provide some useful info should anyone find themselves eye to eye with the buggers.

Parlez-vous Enfant?

The mom's group I've been a part of for almost a year has been dwindling steadily, so it was serendipitous that I stumbled upon a new group during one of the last meetings of my old group. I overheard the moms chatting in French, which immediately piqued my interest. A French-speaking moms group? Could it be? Parfait!

You see, I've been trying for years to become more (at all) fluent in French. And after the kids were born, the effort started feeling more like necessity than indulgence. It could be something I'd teach them in addition to the lessons in manners and not biting kids smaller than yourself.

I've made a handful of efforts over the years. When my mom visits I vow to converse with her only in French. She humors me (thanks mom), but after a few hours I just feel silly starting a new habit to replace an old one that's 35 years strong. So the effort once again lazily shies away.

But with strangers, it's more natural to start a habit because you're starting from scratch. Also, because there's more social discomfort with strangers, there's more of an impetus to practice and get better. I attended my first French-speaking moms meeting this week and plan on being a regular. Maybe this will finally provide the motivation I need.

To help things along, R burned our dusty Pimsleur French CDs to our computer so I could put the lessons on my Shuffle and listen to them at the park while pushing the swing (or doing something equally challenging). No more excuses, right?

Bonne chance a moi!

On it goes

A big part of me wanted it all to be over after yesterday's primaries. I wanted to move on and focus on the Democratic win in November. I wanted the Hillary bashing to stop and the Republican debating to start. I wanted to see the Democratic party rally together for one person and forge ahead.

The negativity coming out of the Hillary and Obama campaigns is counterintuitive. They're pointing out to the whole country their opponent's flaws and lowering their own respectability at the same time. Maybe it gets a few votes, but it also seems to give the Republicans talking points to use in the near future.

I was especially disappointed to see Hillary's Red Phone spot. That kind of fear-mongering should be left to the Republicans. They own it. Maybe Hillary also ran it in the hopes of seeming tough against McCain. In any case it was in bad taste and I'm sorry she had to resort to that.

If what they say about the math is true - that it is impossible for her to regain the delegate lead needed to take the nomination - it does no good for Hillary to continue her campaign and could further divide the Democratic party.

While she may be more qualified than Obama, most of what I'm hearing and reading points to the fact that that's not enough. It may be enough to be President, but not enough to beat McCain. I'm terrified that there are many Obama supporters out there who would rather vote for McCain or not at all than vote for Hillary. That scares me enough to let her go, and I'm thinking there are super delegates who feel the same way.