Photo Journal: Sunday Farmer's Market

I never thought I'd like living in Silicon Valley. I always viewed it as this sprawling concrete jungle, confusing freeways clogged with yuppies driving like psychos in hybrid cars to their techie jobs. My sister told me to give San Jose a chance before casting my verdict, make friends with my new home, go on some dates and prove my prior judgement wrong.

I was wrong.

Yes, there is still the traffic and tech companies and fast-paced energy of business and innovation in certain areas of the Valley, but I never realized that the "sprawl" I perceived was at least eight different cities all mashed together, connected by the same streets so you don't know where one ends and the other begins. And each city has it's own energy, people, downtown scene, activities, and price tag (the same apartment in Palo Alto vs. San Jose can be a $700 difference). I love the town we currently live in. It's very laid back, relatively affordable, centrally located so we're an hour north of Monterey, an hour south of San Francisco, and 25 minutes to Santa Cruz. The downtown area is extremely kid/dog-friendly. One of the luxuries of living in central Cali besides the weather is the variety of local produce we have access to on a daily basis. Our favorite part of the week is Sunday when we walk ten minutes to our local farmer's market, rain or shine, and buy our groceries for the week. Besides the usual fruit and veg, we can get free-range eggs, raw milk, oyster shooters, and great Indian food for lunch. Here are some photos I've taken from several Sundays past...

New Project: Learning To Love You More

I have an enormous girl-crush on Miranda July. She's a writer, performance artist, actress, movie director, seer of souls, beautiful lady-extraordinaire. Go watch her movie Me and You and Everyone We Know, and read her book No One Belongs Here More Than You. She knows how to move something inside of you. Along with artist, Harrell Fletcher, she created a series of assignments to be carried out by the general public and shared on the website, Learning To Love You More, which was later published as a book. Although the website has stopped accepting submissions to display, they still encourage you to continue the project on your own, which is what I am doing. I've been meaning to start for a long time but hello BABY, and I forgot about it until I stumbled across the book on my bookshelf last week.

Miranda July

I'll try to post at least one assignment at week. I'm admitting now that I'll do some of the easier ones first because I don't have the courage right now to ask my neighbor if I can record and photograph them playing an instrument (but hopefully I can work up to it!)

Without further ado...

Assignment #27
Take a picture of the sun.

This was shot from my living room window. It was late in the afternoon and blindingly sunny. I think it looks like something exploded in the sky and formed a white hole that's about to suck up our world.

What's In A Name?

Although we have yet to get our hands on Addie's birth certificate, Zach and I have decided to legally change her name. We wanted to do it now so she never knew her original middle name confused many people into thinking it was "Nada", as in "none", or her Japanese counterparts didn't think of farts when they heard Nara---so very close to "o-nara" (which yes, means fart). Truth was, we didn't prepare her name very well in the first place. Sure, there were hundreds of options, potentials that Zach vetoed right off the bat. "Sounds like cheese." "No way, there was a girl in school with that name and she was a snobby bitch." Adeline was the one completely random name he didn't hate--when I suggested it, he paused for a moment thinking about it, and said, "Yeah, Adeline. That's pretty." And that was that.

I may be o-Nara-ing right now.

Given we waited to find out the sex of the kid until he/she was born, we never fully settled on a full name to give either boy or girl. We liked Jack for a boy. Addie for a girl. And we figured the middle names should be Japanese to reflect her background and give her relatives a fighting chance at speaking or referring to her. "Adeline" would be be pronounced "Ade-lai-ee-nu"--long and clunky to say the least, so it was shortened to "Ade-chan". Zach liked the name Nara because it was close to Inara (a character from Firefly, who, um, happened to be a high-class escort), and it meant "oak tree" in Japanese. We ignored the fact that it was confusing to pronounce in English with the rolling "r", so people would respond, "Nala? Nada?", whenever we informed them of her full name. It's become awkward. Plus, none of our family seem too fond of it, even the Japanese side, because Nara is still a weird name to give your kid in Japan...like naming your kid Apple or Zuma Nesta Rock (erm...sorry, Gwen).

In addition to the whole awkward-middle-name-fiasco, there is the issue of her last name. It's Zach's, which is great. I love the sound of his last name, and it obviously reflects that she is his daughter. But what about the person who carried her around in her body for nine months and gave birth to her? Where am I? Maybe it's narcissistic and self-centered, but it feels strange to have my child bear no name-relation to me. The whole taking your husband's name issue is very touchy for me. There's the feminist/political stance of doing away with the sexist tradition of being passed down from father to husband by assuming husband's name, but that isn't really the main reason I want to keep my name. I like my name. I like my family. It's who I've been for twenty five years. It's probably going to die out with my sister and I because we are women and don't get to pass it down to our children (yes, we have many cousins who will pass the Johnson name down, but still...).

Would a Johnson be a Johnson by any other name?

Plus, it's 2009. Why is it such a preposterous idea for the man to take the woman's last name instead? When I asked Zach if he would change his name to Zachary Johnson, he said "Um...no", and I said, "Exactly." Call me a femi-nazi (god, I hate that phrase) but if changing a woman's name that she's identified herself by her whole life isn't a big deal, than why should it be a big deal for a man to do the same? Luckily, Zach is an evolved man (heh) and has no issue with me keeping my name if we ever get married. I like many traditions, but this is one I can't get behind...personally. And that's what it is, a deeply personal issue. Some women don't think twice or invest a lot of energy into it, happily changing their names to their husband's. Many don't believe a name is what defines them, while others think sharing one family name makes them a stronger unit. I've read women say that they never felt a close tie to their maiden name because they hated or never knew their father, and gladly shed their old identities for new ones. Or it's an aesthetic issue. If your last name was unfortunate sounding and your husband has a much cooler one, why the hell not?

You could even switch BOTH man and woman's last names to a hyphenated double last name (gasp! they're on equal footing!). There is keeping one's maiden name professionally and taking your husband's last name personally. So many different choices, which is awesome, because that's what being a women today is all about--having a CHOICE. The choices become stickier when you have a kid, however. What name do you give your child? I automatically assumed Addie would have Zach's last name, which is funny since I was so conflicted about whether or not to keep mine. It was a situation where Zach cared more about it than I did, so I said that's fine, she can have your last name. After she was born, I was kind of sad that I didn't think about it more.

Now, we have the chance to change things and I think I'm happy with our decision (which isn't 100% sure quite yet). We absolutely don't want to stick her with the dreaded hyphenated last name (PERSONALLY. totally cool if other's do it)--it just makes it complicated and confusing and annoying to spell out so many letters every time you write it down or tell someone the spelling. So we're going to make Johnson her second middle name. I kind of thought second middle names were semi-pretentious, with no basis or evidence of why that was, but my dad just informed me that giving two middle names is very common is other countries. Hell, FIVE middle names is common is some places. This way, her middle name reflects my side of the family, but she won't have to write Adeline Johnson-Pereyo on every homework assignment and forms throughout her life. Happy compromise, no? As for Nara, we have no familial or personal connection with this name. I was thinking Helen, to honor Zach's maternal grandmother and my paternal grandmother; both women died young, hailed from Washington, and unfortunately were never able to meet their grandchildren or great-grandchildren. It seems we'll be saving that name for another hypothetical child since Zach suggested Josephine (a name I love and associate with Jo from Little Women), after his father's middle name, Joseph. Another happy compromise, I think.

Grandma Helen McCormick Johnson

So pretty soon, our little girl shall be known as Adeline Josephine Johnson Pereyo. I think it sounds better to the ear to switch Johnson and Pereyo, but we pick our battles... ;) And if she decides when she's sixteen that she doesn't identify with her name and wants to change it to Rainbow Samurai Valentine? That's fine too.

Guessing Game

How many teeth do you see?

Four, you say?

..............

Look closer

..........

....FIVE TEEFS!

(which would explain the abnormal levels of she-devil crankitude lately)

A Light Turns Back On

It's been a month since my last post. Why? Mostly due to fear. And doubt. Something that I've dealt with so often in the past, and have been working to overcome the past few years with increased success. But it rears it's ugly head all the time. Fear of failure, fear of judgement from others, fear of making mistakes. Fear of living a life of mediocrity. I feel like I'm in a state of limbo. Sometimes I'm confident and peaceful in the situation I am right now as a mother who is taking care of her young child. Other times, I feel panicked. Anxious about finishing school and establishing what I'm supposed to do as a career. Rediscovering my passions. The thing that moves me wake up in the morning and make me a better version of myself. A better mother, partner, and friend.

I'm starting a new project on the side this week and I'll be posting the results on my blog--it's not of my invention but I was inspired to finally start it after this past month of non-creativity. Hopefully it will be the impetus to start working on other goals I have been procrastinating.

On a lighter note, things in the P-J household are well. Addie is growing--her body lengthening and stretching thinner and thinner. I saw her ribs today and worried we weren't feeding her enough, which is an outrageous statement considering she eats more than Zach and I put together. I could say her favorite meal is lamb and eggplant but in truth, she will devour all that is placed before her. All of her baby fat is melting away, revealing a beautiful little girl with bright, blue-green eyes and a gap-toothed smile. Her light auburn hair shows the beginning of wispy curls that frame her face. I can't believe this little person came from me.

She is welcoming and sweet to all strangers. She's stubborn as all wiggly hell when we try to get a new diaper or clothes on her. She loves Mr. Noodle on Sesame Street (yes, I finally succumbed to letting her watch television). She always tries to sneak into the kitchen and play in Zoe's food and water bowls when I'm not watching. She falls asleep on her stomach and her body undulates as we gently rub her back. She can pick up food and feed herself. She learned to crawl this past month, but it's not a normal crawl, it's a gimpy crawl where one foot stays grounded beside her and propels her forward so only one knee has to make contact with the hardwood floor. Drumming to her own beat, this one. She is still head over heels in love with Zoe, especially now that she can follow her around the house (much to Zo's chagrin). She clings to me whenever she is scared or tired or needs comfort. I am her source of love and laughter and nourishment and security. I love this girl more than I thought was humanly possible. Super-human love.

I know I've already said before that I would be better about writing consistently and I've failed at that promise. What can I say, I'm an imperfect human being who is still learning how to be accountable to herself and others, stumbling every bit of the way. What counts is that I don't give up altogether; I keep writing, keep singing my story, I keep waking up and praying that I live this day for all it's worth.

On Children

"And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, Speak to us of Children.

And he said: 

'Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies not but their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but see not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.'"

(from The Prophet, by Kahilil Gibran)

She's asleep. I'm awake.

I was rocking her to sleep last night, quietly singing Sea of Love and Moon River over and over into her left ear. With just enough light seeping through the crack of the door, I caught a glimpse of our blurred silhouette in the mirror and something hit me. It hit me so hard that my chest contracted and tears started to form.

I'm still trying to figure out how to express what it was, but I think it's partly that recognition of holy-crap-I'm-a-MOM, mixed with the more gradual realization that I am a part of this world. A world I'd chosen to reject and withdraw from for five years because I thought life was without worth or meaning. That there wasn't even a point to waking up and getting out of bed for it. I should probably explain.

As for the first part, I have to say: When I became pregnant with Addie, I was secretly REALLY worried that I wasn't maternal enough to have a child. I had held an infant once or twice in my life before her (besides my little sister, but only photos prove that), and I had changed diapers, hmmm, probably never. I never shrieked in delight when there was a child in my vicinity, and I was usually the one rolling my eyes and giving the stink-eye to the fussy baby in the restaurant (karma is such a bitch). In fact, it was a running joke in my family that I hated babies and loved feasting on them in various manners and methods.

Preparation for twenty years in the future.

So I waited for that "mom gene" to kick in, bestowing me with infinite patience, jeans that made my ass flat (the horror!), and a full compendium of nursery rhymes. But those things didn't happen, or they haven't so far. I'm still me, the Ariel that existed before her. Still selfish sometimes, still impatient, still utterly confused as to what age any given child is. Still blasting Blackalicious in the car, reading gossip websites, hoping to get hit on once in a blue moon. Forgetting to pack diapers or sunscreen every time she leaves the house because she has yet to purchase a proper diaper bag which would remind her to fill all those little compartments with stuff. Still feeling like a child herself. The infantile leading the infant.

Luckily after almost nine months, I now realize that I can still be that girl while raising a decent human being. What can I say, I'm a slow learner.

I swear I'm not just the nanny.

The second part? Things have changed a lot since I felt that way. I won't go into details, but I will say that freedom from depression and addiction has changed my life more than I could ever properly describe (even more than having a child). I feel PRESENT in my life today. No longer living in the past or fearing the future. Letting go of resentments, self-hatred, and regrets. Finally able to recognize and enjoy the beauty in the world that didn't seem to exist before I got sober.

Having moments like last night are just further proof of the miracles I get to experience now that I'm finally awake to them.

Gerbera Infantallis Grandiflorum

Chicken soup for the Sickly and Postpartum

My whole week has felt topsy turvy since all three of us have been sick. Zach got the worst of it, some godawful flu that's kept him from work three days in the row. His fever finally broke last night and he's no longer hacking up bits of lung matter, but still, poor guy. That's why I made an abbreviated version of our favorite chicken orzo soup yesterday. We originally made it with turkey around Thanksgiving time, but it's so tasty that we make it more often with chicken.

Simple roast chicken: Coat inside/out with olive oil. Salt and pepper inside/out.

Stuff with fresh herbs, garlic cloves, cut-up lemon. Cook 1 1/2 hours at 425 degrees. Voila.

You can go the easier route and just buy a roast chicken and stock/broth at the store, OR you can go the labor-intensive route of brining the bird overnight, roasting it the next day, making homemade stock after you've taken the meat off, and then begin the soup. The latter produces SUBLIME results. The meat is so moist and flavorful from the brine, and the broth is a rich, golden brown color. The veggies go: mirepois (carrots, onion, celery), garlic, and then whatever root veggies you like. We use rutabaga, parsnips, and turnips. Throw a little bouquet garnis in there (fresh herbs tied up with a string or put in a small bag) while it's simmering, orzo, fresh parsley and chicken at the very end, and you're done. We like eating it with freshly grated Parmegiano Reggiano on top, along with a squeeze of lemon juice.

Hastily taken photograph. Wish I took some better ones.

I made a double batch yesterday so I could bring some to my friend who just had a baby boy last week, but I skipped the brining and making stock-part. Still turned out pretty tasty.

I also tried a new recipe, Ginger Tea Cake, that I read in one of my books, After the Baby's Birth: A Complete Guide for Postpartum Women. The book itself it great because you normally just read about the pregnancy/labor portion and forget about what happens to you AFTER the little bugger is born. It borrows extensively from the Ayurvedic lifestyle practiced in India, including recommendations of food that are given to postpartum women like ghee, honey, milk, almonds, and coconut rice. The recipe was so simple, I'm going to write it down from memory since I just lent the book to my friend.

- 1/2 cup of boiling water

- 1 stick of butter (1/4 lb)

- 1 inch of fresh ginger, grated (or 1 tbsp. of dry ground ginger)

- 1/2 cup of blackstrap molasses

- 1 egg, beaten

- 1/2 cup brown or raw sugar

- 1 1/2 cups whole-wheat flour (I used AP)

- 1 tsp baking powder

- 1 tbsp cinnamon

- 1/4 tsp salt

(the photo above is for double the normal recipe, hence, two eggs and two sticks of butter)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Pour boiling water over butter and ginger to melt. Stir in the rest of the ingredients and beat until smooth. Bake in a buttered 8 by 8-inch pan, for approx. 35 minutes, or until a toothpick stuck in the center comes out clean. Best served warm with tea.

My verdict: I may sift the flour, mix more thoroughly, or let the batter rest a minute next time since there were tiny bits of uncooked flour in the cake. It still tasted great though, a lot like the gingerbread cake my great-grandma used to make and serve with whipped cream on top. It's not too sweet, and delicous with a cup o' tea. (I also used a 9 by 9-inch pan which worked fine, and will probably even use a muffin tin next time. Just adjust the cooking time.)

Not the prettiest cake I've made, but mighty tasty all the same.

One more dish I made last night was a cucumber salad with mint and feta. I won't write the recipe down here because I snagged it off a great blog called Simply Recipes, so check out this link if you're interested in making it. Again, a very simple, light, refreshing dish, perfect for summer. I used apple cider vinegar instead of white vinegar, I'm sure you could even use balsamic or red wine if you preferred.

I won't let go of summer. I won't.

Have a great weekend everyone!

-A.

Work It

And Now For Some Lighter Fare...

Forgive the terrible shaky camera work, mismatched clothes, and thirty seconds of taping my leg rather than the giggling child. I was too busy growling. 

Things I will do in my life.

I'm starting to put fingers to keyboard the things I would like to do before I leave this Earth. Some are doable right at this moment, others will take a little longer (and a lot more money). I'll keep adding on whatever new things I think of, and cross them off as they've been completed. 

Write one yourself, it's amazing how motivated or excited you may feel after seeing it written down. 

1. Graduate from college and walk onto the stage to pick up my diploma.

2. Play guitar on a busy sidewalk.

3. Live in Japan for a year and re-learn my first language.

4. Go deep-sea fishing.

5. Grow a veggie garden.

6. Work at a radio station.

7. Produce a story for This American Life. 

8. Sky-dive.

9. Get dressed up and see an opera. 

10. Eat at Masa's in NYC.

11. Teach little kids how to cook.

12. Learn how to play piano again.

13. Open an IRA.

14. Sew Addie a dress.

16. Sing karaoke in a crowded bar.

17. Write a book.

18. Help other women through recovery.

19. Run a bed and breakfast.

20. Visit every major tourist attraction in San Francisco.

21. Repel down a rock. 

22. Bellydance for Zach.

23. Look in the rearview mirror of my car and see two sleeping children.

24. Own land.

25. Learn to hold yoga handstand--Adho Mukha Vrksasana--for longer than a minute.

26. Take Addie camping in Yellowstone National Park.

27. Stay at Esalen for a retreat.

28. Spend a day of meditation in Big Sur. 

29. Make something from the French Laundry cookbook.

30. Finish reading Don Quixote.

31. Create a comic strip.

32. Dance to Pink Martini live at the Oregon Zoo in Portland. 

33. Climb a mountain in Nepal.

34. Lay on a beach in Thailand.

35. Hot-air balloon.

36. Get a pet snake.

37. Be the breadwinner of the family.

38. Learn how to make foam art for my cappuccino. 

39. Ski and hot springs in Hokkaido. 

40. Ride a horse.

41. Visit my friend, Marta, in Prague. 

42. Eat at Ferran Adria's restaurant El Bulli in Spain. 

43. Try stinky tofu.

44. Light fireworks in my grandparent's backyard in Japan.

45. Take a molecular gastronomy class.

46. Bake croissant. 

47. Make a music video.

48. Don't use any technological devices for a week.

49. Walk along the Great Wall of China.

50. Ride a camel.

51. Get another tattoo.

52. Record interviews with members of my family about their childhood. 

53. Enter a baking competition.

54. Go sailing in the Bay.

55. Be an audience member at the Daily Show. 

56. Road-trip from coast to coast across America.

57. Go snow-shoeing.

58. Travel by bike on a four or five day trip. 

59. Start modern dance again. 

60. Volunteer at a shelter.

61. Make home-made ice-cream. 

62. 

Not Until I've Lost A Leg...

...will I ever go to the hospital again.

I almost started to cry tonight when Zach opened the bill for my finger/blender accident two weeks ago, because it says we owe them $2,079.00. TWO THOUSAND SEVENTY NINE DOLLARS FOR A FINGER WOUND.

I interacted with the doctor for literally seven minutes. I declined X-rays and sutures. All she did was put Derma-bond on the cuts and wrap it in gauze and tape. TWO THOUSAND DOLLARS.

I am so determined not to let this incident control me and ruin the evening, but I'm just going to mention this. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH OUR HEALTH CARE SYSTEM? Seriously, if you are a fiscal conservative/Republican/libertarian/someone who thinks social healthcare is the demise of American capitalism, PLEASE TELL ME HOW YOU THINK THIS CURRENT SYSTEM WORKS. Even for people who are able to get health insurance.

Because I am one of the millions of Americans who cannot afford health insurance. Up until a week ago, Zach's job didn't offer insurance. We had to go the private route. All of the insurance companies we went to DENIED me, for "past records", meaning I was denied for being honest on my application about the very brief time I was on mental health medication. Otherwise, I am the picture of health. Our only other option was Cobra, which would cost us $500/month for catastrophic insurance, not including Zach or Addie. Uh, huh. Sure. If I, a healthy 25-year old woman, cannot afford health insurance, what chance does ANYONE have? And when a finger wound costs TWO THOUSAND DOLLARS to treat, what happens when I break my arm? Or find out I have cancer?*

Could I have skipped the trip to the hospital? Probably. Although Zach is a worrywart, and the doctor said it was good to have it looked at to check for nerve damage or chances of infection. But should those be my only two options? Risk infection and possible complications later on, or pay $2,000.00?

I know at least fifteen people close to me who don't have insurance, either because they were denied by private companies, don't work enough hours to qualify at work, or they can't afford it. They are one accident away from complete financial ruin and homelessness. And many who do have insurance through jobs still feel anxiety in this economy, because they are one pink slip away from being in the same boat as the rest of us.

Yes, this is the number one topic in the national news at the moment, and we need to be paying attention. What I have just described is WHY we need to pay attention. I don't think what happened to me is even all that bad, placed within the context of what is happening to others in this country. I'm chalking this up to one big very expensive mistake we made. But it makes me sad and frustrated. Sad that millions of people have to live in fear of receiving health care, frustrated that this great country we live in cannot move forward with a universal healthcare plan. I'm not up for discussing the politics of this right now. For me in this very moment, it is black and white.

*Speaking of which, Fresh Air on NPR was very interesting today. Terry interviewed two women who had/have cancer in their 20's, what their experiences were like with health insurance, treatment, and how they (and others) use humor to get through it all. If you want to listen, go here.

What's this here blog-doo-hickey

I'm still new to blogging and I'm figuring out all the features I can change, comments being one of them. I didn't realize that I had the setting on where you had to create a User ID just to leave comments, which is a giant pain in the ass, so I just changed it and now anyone can leave me a message, anonymous or identifiable.  But remember what your mama said: if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all. Or if you do say it, expect me to reply and call you an idiot.

Thank you for taking time out of your busy day to read Babe and the Beast. I would love any and all feedback!

Grateful Labor Day

1. The weather was beautiful all three days, both in Pacific Grove and Campbell. Sun was bright and happy, but the breeze kept us cool.

2. We were able to spend the day with my sister on her actual birthday, something I haven't done in at least five or six years. It was fun going for walks in downtown PG and Carmel, eating sushi, and hanging out at home.

3. Zach and I puttered around the yard, clipping and mowing and being all grown-up-like. It was fun except when Zach watched me prune the bushes like a hawk, mentioning every ten seconds how poor of a job I was doing. This isn't the gardens of Versailles, buddy (but I appreciate your attention to detail)!

4a. Today, we went to the birthday party of Addie's buddy, A., who turned the big numero UNO on the same day as my sister. It was birthday madness this entire weekend, four people I knew celebrated them.

4b. PLUS, a little boy celebrated his entrance into the world on the 6th. So make that five birthdays. Congratulations to the V. family! Can't wait to meet S.'s little brother.

4c. And Happy Birthday to my Great-Grandmother, Doris, or Granny as she is known to all, who turned 99 today. She's lived a long, interesting, sometimes difficult life; surviving the Depression, running a family and a farm, raising her two young grandsons when she probably thought she was through with the kid portion of life. I hope she ate lots of chocolate cake and her favorite Italian prunes today...

5. Many little things I'm happy for this weekend: Peet's Lemon Rose Tea, Zach's new job letting him have the Monday off, homeopathic teething tablets, Zoe's infinite patience, my awesome camera that I'm beginning to use again, celebrations of life, cupcakes with melted icing, messages from friends on Facebook, my comfy bed with soft sheets, talking to my parents on the phone.

Being able to recognize the blessings in my life.

Good night, A.

Weekend Update

Even though we still have one day left of this Labor Day weekend, it already feels like it's coming to an end. The same way it feels when it's very late Saturday night, and you know that when you wake up on Sunday, it will zip by so quickly that you'll blink and already be a new pair of underwear (hopefully), saying goodnight, and waking up to Monday morning.

Live in the present, Ariel! We're still in the middle of the weekend!

We spent a lovely, albeit too short, Saturday in Pacific Grove to celebrate Boo's birthday. We gorged ourselves on fresh sashimi, sushi, homemade tofu, broiled eggplant with hachi-miso, and grilled yellowtail. It felt so strange to be eating at Akaoni without our mother who has always accompanied our visits there, and uses her clout (translation: speaks Japanese) to order "off-menu" and basically take the reins of our meal. Zach, my sister, and I all looked at each like lost children, unsure of what and how much to order, but we managed alright and enjoyed the most delicious meal. I wanted to take photos but Addie was asleep, then awake, then hungry, than attention-hungry. So all I got was this:

oh, and this:

Eating miso eggplant for the first time. She loved it.

We took a stroll down to Carmel Beach after dinner, and it was pleasantly bustling in the usually subdued town. It was nice to see large groups of friends and families mixed in with the usual rich, elderly couples window-shopping at Thomas Kinkade (barf) and various kitsch stores. Zach bought a latte at a local coffee shop, deemed it disgusting, and launched into a grand diatribe about the gross neglect of the poor coffee beans perpetrated by the teenage girl.

"The way she tamped it! Psh! She barely tapped it! You're supposed to put at LEAST 40 pounds of pressure in there! And she let an entire shot go to waste while she was pouring mine!!" (I gasp) "Where is the CARE, these days? Do we no longer take PRIDE in what we do?"

Here is where I come in. I have a sick compulsion to tell store owners/employees when a service or product is unsatisfactory. Now, before you label me a self-righteous bitch-customer from hell, let me preface by saying that I am very nice when I let them know that the coffee was terrible or the teething necklace I bought Addie fell apart the minute I put it on her. I don't act like a raving lunatic, and I will let most things go if it's not worth the trouble (e.g. I don't demand to speak to the manager if a server is rude/apathetic/acts like it's such a huge inconvenience that I exist in this world). And 99.9999 percent of the time I do give feedback, the response is kind and understanding. Which is funny because sometimes, I create these epic hypothetical scenarios in my head about how they're going to flip out and kick me out of the store or just glare and give me the finger...and surprise! It never happens. Remind me to write another post about how crazy I am.

In this particular case, after much resistance from Zach (who hates confrontation/being an inconvenience--translation: one of those "difficult" customers), I brought the latte back into the coffee shop and very pleasantly asked the girl if I could simply exchange the latte for a regular coffee. She was more than happy to oblige, and after I finished stirring my cream and sugar into the cup, tapped me on the shoulder and handed me some cash. Totally unnecessary and totally cool. See? It pays to be honest AND nice!

Too bad their plain coffee was even worse then their latte. At least their hearts' were in the the right place. :)

So what else happened? We ate fancy miniature cakes from Parker-Lusseau Patisserie in Monterey, and Boo opened her presents from us. Year twenty-two was more pragmatic then previous birthdays. Binders, notebooks, documents organizer, Trader Joe's candied pecans, Hanes mens t-shirts, and some trail-mix. Everything a poor, starving grad-student needs.

Wish we could have stayed the rest of the weekend, but I had to go sell baby paraphernalia to the weekend crowd.

Happy 22, Boo. We love you...

Passing The Mantle

Tonight, I retire my childhood nickname of Little Cherub. I think she deserves it now: 

Rumble In The Crib

The other day, I had a moment where I felt quite proud that I outsmarted someone. A baby. My eight month old baby. I know, I can see the look on your faces now...

The weather's been like the surface of the sun as of late so Addie is naked most of the time. Very cute, but problematic since she's figured out how easily she can rip the tabs off her diapers. Rii-ip. Stick 'em back on. Rip. Rip. (evil giggle) Back on. It's become a futile game we play.

When I was worried enough she would pee on our bed again, I finally grabbed a pair of dirty shorts crumpled on the floor and shoved them on her. Ha! Take THAT, baby! I thought triumphantly. She kept clawing at herself for a minute, figured the game was over, shrugged her chubby little shoulders like she was going, "meh, whatever gets you off, crazy lady," and tried to roll off the bed.

Small victories...

"You may have won this battle, but you will not win the war!"

(also, she's not in floating in purgatory, our bedsheets are black.)

True Romance

Courtesy of a dear friend who will babysit Addie, Zach and I are planning to paint the town CRAZY RED next week with......DATE NIGHT, people! Something I've realized as being SO vital to maintain one's sanity and keep any semblance of a romantic relationship after you've had a child. 

Here's the conversation we had last night discussing the anticipated event. (I promise we weren't Skype messaging each other in the same bed. He was working late that night.) 

Ariel 11:39 PM

yeah, i'm good for whatever. i'd be happy watching freakin First Daughter as long as its just the two of us

Zachary11:39 PM

seriously

Ariel11:39 PM

lets eat somewhere yummy

11:39 PM 

and overdress

11:39 PM 

hahaha

Zachary11:40 PM

alright

11:40 PM 

then maybe we can have loud sex after then get our daughter

Ariel11:40 PM

ha ha

11:40 PM 

we shall see

Zachary11:41 PM

hey date night, if I pay, you put out!! and if you pay I put out

11:41 PM 

win-win

(LOVING the male logic. Good think he's not serious.) The conversation ends in the usual manner...

Ariel11:41 PM

want to see POTTA in regular or 3-D?

11:42 PM 

if they're still even showing it by next week

Zachary11:42 PM

not sure, haven't been to one of these new fangled 3d movies

Ariel11:43 PM

(shaking fist) Gaaah! You kids and your new-fangled colored glasses with thingamajigs poppin out the damn screen. Now hand me a Werther's.

Zachary11:44 PM

when will the craziness stop

11:44 PM 

GET OFF MY LAWN YOU STUPID KIDS  

I'll share how it went next week!