The Kitchen Table

Blink

This time last year, my mom and stepfather were in town to help with Juniper while Mister and I set off for NYU to have number two. A baby about which I knew little except that it liked to kick a lot, wiggle like mad, stretch obscenely given the small space. 

I had in my head it might be a girl because we had a girl and two would be cute, right?

Out popped Rabbit. Light-haired like his sister, and like his sister, I had to adjust to something I wasn't sure of. 

I thought he might bring frankincense. 

Family portrait, the C-section way. 

Sweet. He had a good cry (I verified with Mister), big hands, a funny nose. I worried his belly button would be weird (it isn't) because drying umbilical cords are like shriveled alien connectors.

Already perfect. Health check with Papa in the next room. I could see them through the glass.

So big. 8 lbs., 13 oz.

We inked him twice. 

It's hard work, being a baby.

Bama holding Rabbit, a very important role for her: Chief Rabbit-holder.

This will be easy!
A visit with Grandmother.
Sister protector.

Clean. He is hilarious in the bath. He tries to climb in. He leaps around. He splashes. He is amphibian, I'm sure.

Cool kid on the swing.
Same kid eating dirt.
Look at the size of those hands. Seriously. Where did they come from? Mister and I have the same size hand (my palm is larger, his fingers are longer; perhaps Rabbit inherited the biggest from each of us.)

Cuddles at music in the park.

Music Together last summer. The music box is one of his favorite places to explore. He even cracks the rhythm sticks with rhythm. They also taste good.
One of his favorite places to be is on Papa's shoulders. Usually, he gives Mister a lick of appreciation.

Oh yes, pears are good. Two teeth is all you need!

Drumming!

Rocking horse fantasy at the library. He's quite good. 

Hi!

We were working on stairs. And then the ball just seemed more fun.

Cheeky bugger.

Rabbit's an incredible light in my life. He has a fast smile for people, a lovely sweet snuggle for us. He pats me on the back the way I do him when he needs comforting. Somehow, he knows when Mama needs a little love of her own. He is insatiably curious in a very different way from Bama. For one thing, this child needs to lick everything in his path. Ladders at the park, tables, sand, whatever. It's horrifying and funny. Mostly horrifying. I keep saying it's all about the anti-bodies.

Where Bama would study people, he will lick them. He is open in a way that is foreign to Mister but I recognize. I think he's a bit like my dad, the guy who will talk to anyone, anywhere. Bama does it now, and I think he'll be even chattier. Oh my.

I love watching him explore the boxes and cubbies of toys. He's deliberate. He'll take out a block, lick it, carry it around, take out some more, put the first one back. Maybe he's like a kid you know, but this kind of search, seek, wonder is new to me. 

He's not saying much beyond Mama and sometimes Papa, but he can sign for milks, water, more, and all done. He understands change (for diaper) and potty, stars, moon, cow, and a bunch of other animals. He, like Bama, loves books. He helps choose what we read (we offer two, he deliberates, then selects), and picks up books when he's playing, too. New fun, blowing kisses, touching noses, and waving.

He is a sweet and funny monkey, Rabbit is. I cannot claim any ownership to his generosity of spirit, his curiousity, his love, but I hope to nurture all the bits of him that will help him continue to be the lovely person he is.

Off the Needles

Since I'm all kerfuffled about posting these days, it seems, here is a quicky to show what's cast-off, woven in, and done.

An Irish hiking hat for Grandpa who's chemo-d head needs a bit of soft warmth this winter. Nice, don't you think? I modified the pattern a bit (one change was deliberate, one was accidental). More info on ravelry in my projects.

A tasty scarf for the wife of a high school friend. Six plus feet long, about 9 inches wide. I'm happy with how it turned out. Rumor is, she is, too. Two people from my NY knitting group gave me scraps to liven it up. Sweet.

Rabbit, a blur in his new Milo. Note to self: mark the right side of your projects so that you remember where you are. You have two small children, after all. It will eliminate the need to frog. 

Officially, Milo will be one of his birthday presents. It's a rich, dark burgundy brown color. The yarn is, wait for it, Lion Brand. Yep. Superwash Merino. Natch.

Quick, Get Me Some Sage!

I play Dungeons & Dragons once a week with engineers from the company Mister used to work for. Mister was asked, but declined and said, my wife will do it.

D&D: It's so silly it's awesome. 

Round One, I played a gnome thief with terrible thieving and sneaking skills. Seriously, in almost every instance, I failed to open a lock, pick a pocket, and when I tried to shoot a (ginormous) spider, I shot someone in my group in the back (with an arrow).

The glory moment came when all but one of our party were wiped out in an attempt to break into a fortress. The one who survived, our magician, was off learning spells. The retelling of the whole fight was hilarious. Could it be funny to anyone who doesn't play D&D? Here we are, four of us trying to overtake a fortress. Smooth walls guarded by wizards and fighters. While trying to eavesdrop on the guards,, I tripped and rolled into the tower. Then a rock squished me. I set off an alarm, which sent out fighters and mages casting arrows and spells until the others in my party fell one by one. As if that weren't enough, we were all eaten by a dragon.

Seriously, who talks like this?

A shot of the worst pile of dice ever. Need to roll high? You'll roll a three. Need to roll low? You'll hit an 18. There's not enough sage in the world to smudge the crappy rolls from these things. Of course, I could go buy new dice, but that means finding the store and getting there. With Rabbit and Bama.

The players were given a second chance. I came back as a centaur. Centaurs are perfect for me because they are, as a race, a little prickly. I am, in general, a little pricky. No need for acting!

I'd like to thank Dr. Nobody for introducing me to the geeky joys of D&D. 

Apples and Pears: New York Wins

Here's the truth of it: Mister and I complain about a few odds and ends regarding New York. He hates the coffee, I have yet to find a hamburger that makes my heart sing. 

But pears and apples? How can one not be excited to see sixteen varieties at a stand and know that most of them will be delicious. And when they aren't so great for eating straight, will bubble down in some mighty fine applesauce, which is our new house staple.

This week's selection includes Macouns, something crisps, something else, a few of the others, and two kinds of pears. The stand charges $2/lb for most, $3/lb for some. I stay away from those. ;) At the top, a bag of pears for $2. Why, I asked the first time I bought a $2 bag? Why not? they answered.

My plan for these beauties is a lot of snacking, some more apple-pear sauce, and a ginger cake, this time with some sliced pears mixed in.

I clicked through four pages of "kitchen" posts to get to this which includes a whisper mention of the ginger cake recipe I use. Way back in 2008, I developed a mighty ginger cake crush after having crushingly expensive slices of moist, sweet, spicy ginger cake from Crixa Cakes (oh, how I miss you, sweet little Hungarian-inspired bakery that was perfect for a cup of tea and slice of cake on a rainy day). While I liked the ambiance, I didn't like paying $3.95 for a slice and then another $1 for whipped cream, no matter how good.

In going back through the kitchen pages, I learned a few things. First, holy crap I was cooking a lot of really good looking stuff. What happened? Now, I'm happy if I crank out a salt free shepherd's pie, which was fantastic, but come on. Sloppy stuff on a puddle of gooey stuff and call it a day = shepherd's pie. Also, I miss lemons. Goodness. New York wins for apples, and maybe even carrots. But lemons? Go home, farmers, go home. Lemon curd from my own Meyer lemon tree, my heart aches for thee. 

But, while I miss lemons, I could cry I miss them that much, and canning, and the smell of the Pacific, fall apples and pears make me stupidly happy. Rabbit will eat a pear by himself, starting with the butt end of it. Bama eats at least one apple a day. That's worth a lot. 

 

Nova.

It's done, in time for fall if it ever arrives. Orange tights? Gray tights? She needs new wellies, to boot. ;)

Maybe not the most amazing photo ever, but she stood still long enough for me to take this photo. The others, she was a blur, sweaty despite the air conditioning in the humid fall.

I'm happy with the fit. I knit the four-year-old size of Nova and my row gauge was on, necessary for the body and sleeve stripes to line up, but my stitch count was tight so it might wear a little snugger down the line. We'll have to see how she grows. 

Regarding the pattern. ....

I have comments on Ravelry, some of which are duplicated below regarding the pattern. Overall, it was easy and relatively quick. I think I'd recommend it to other people. Do follow the row counts as that's what matters for the stripes to correspond.

I carried the yarns up the side to reduce the number of strands for weaving in. Still, I had about 20 or so at the top to manage from the flap and various pick-ups around the neckline. 

It might be the way I read dirctions, but I found some of the pattern details unclear and posted in the Petite Purls forum and emailed the designer. I did not not follow the instructions for the front flap and neckline, in part because size 4 has a four extra rows (and I don't know exactly why that is), and because it uses the "pick up from the right" kind of language that I never understand in knitting patterns, even if I read aloud. My pick-ups seem to be going the wrong way, so in this case, I picked up with double pointeds as you'll see below.

• Frustrating directions when it came to the "front flap" and pick up for the finish. 
• There are no stitch counts, so keep track of your decreases, adding them up before you begin.
• What I did, after several false starts, pickign up stitches along the right and left sides, across the middle, decreasing ... I decide to go my own way. I used double pointed needles to pick up the 20 stitches (for the size four) on the left (facing right) side of the pattern, skipped the first marker, knit one, PM, then knit across the top, didn't K2TOG, knit on, PM, k1. Third DPN, picked up the last 20 sts, which meant I picked up 21 because the attempts to pick up the initial stitches bolloxed the right (facing left) side of the "flap."
• Flap done. Onto the back and shoulders. Not sure how many stitches I should have (yes, i could go back and count through the pattern, but I won't), but I'm going for it. Directions say "purl row," but don't forget to pick up the yarn. I'm hoping I'm supposed to have only two markers on the back. Fingers crossed. 
• FYI, all of this, I find a little tight on the circulars, so if you have two sets, you might use them.

 

We said good bye, I love you. She was engrossed. I cried.

When Mister and I moved to NYC last summer, we refused to be sucked into the preschool, elementary school, test your child, where's your child going to go to school? What? YOU DONT' KNOW? craze.

We shrugged. We sniffed. We looked up schools. We looked up the tuitions. We rolled our eyes. We said, "But we probably won't be here," and "It's cheaper in California!" We buried our heads in the sand. 

We also weren't convinced we wanted to put Bama in preschool. We hadn't, or at least, I hadn't, thought it through before we moved, so landing here wasn't making my thinking any clearer.

Mid-March, the mamas in our music class were all discussing where their kids got in, where they were going. Hmmm, I thought. We did another round of websites, Mister signed us up for an open house. We didn't go.

The music house offered an extended program for kids like Bama, who won't be three in time for the cut-off at most preschools (so she'd be in with the twos), or parents like us, and not really keen on spending $8,000-$15,000 for preschool. 

We committed. We signed her up. We put down a deposit. Our friends talked about their schools. I tried not to panic or feel jealous.

The main teacher broke her foot, making it impossible for her to start the year. The music teacher was unsettled. I started to panic. Were we selling Bama short? 

Maybe we are, but I took our girl to class this morning in a place she's familiar with to see people she knows. Hello! she said to Margaret, the registrar. Hello! to Miss Crystal, the teacher's assistant who is gallantly leading class for two weeks while Miss Elizabeth is out. 

We were a little late, but still had time to take in the "Welcome!" balloon poster with everyone's name. I put Bama's favorite book, fresh clothes, snacks, and dinosaur bag in her cubby. (The bag is a separate post.)

We caught the second half of the story time, which was about a chameleon learning about colors. Then, painting! Familiar smocks and her spot at the art table.

Watching Miss Crystal combine colors. Books like Mouse Paint are helpful, but seeing it in action is mind-blowing!

 

Focus!

 

Papa picked our girl up just before lunch. The first part of class is all art, then the music time (they played instruments today!), then play. The back garden is a beautiful play area with an incredible cherry blossom tree that coats the garden in spring. Lots of shade year round. 

Bama is holding her family necklace, which I put together last night. Thanks to Mister for giving me the suggestion (directions from Moomah).

She picked five photos from a stack of 15 or so that I'd printed and mounted on cards. I put those on her necklace, which is floss tied off with beads. The rest are in a small "book" that I tied with yarn and attached to her dinosaur bag. Her necklace has photos of her and Rabbit, her and me, Mister with her and Rabbit, and Rabbit. Uncle Jay, Bird, Bryan, and others are in the larger collection. She wore the necklace the whole morning, I think. It was worth staying up and creating to give her an extra bit of love from us to last her on her new adventure.

My tweet from this morning: We said good bye, I love you. She was engrossed. I cried.

We went to Bar Pitti for dinner to celebrate, and then Mister took her to get a cupcake, to really celebrate being a big girl. Wow. Big steps.

Happy Feet

If you looked closely at Rabbit's feet in the swing photos, you might have caught a glimpse of these cuties.

I ordered them from tiny happy, an etsy shop out of New Zealand. (I also ordered a bag/purse.) They are reversible, and give coverage without turning Rabbit's feet into swamps. 

When I bought them, he wasn't scooting around yet, but I was planning ahead. I thought he'd need coverage when those days arrived.

 

Which they have. (I'd show you the video, but Typepad and Flickr hate each other.)

Hella (Heart) This Boy

Bama's always been one for the swings. It seems Rabbit loves them just as much.

Happy boy, happy swings! 

Same day, swinging side by side at Vesuvio.

Up top, we gave Oakland a shout out (onesie from Aunty Natalia, making its second showing), here, at Bleecker Playground, we give props to NYC with his onesie from Upendra and Sharla. Pants, Bama's. Shoes, tiny happy.

 

Sometimes Daily Flower: The High Line Edition

I won't bother pretending like spring isn't tickling my toes. New York is covered in tulips, magnolias, dogwoods, and a lot of trees and flowers I don't recognize (a lot of trees and flowers). I'm excited to see new blossoms, the shoots of growth pushing out of the ground. I might have mentioned before that, to me, spring distinguishes the East Coast from the West Coast.

Our friend, Leanne, was in from San Francisco for a conference. We met up at Chelsea Market, then took the elevator up to the walk the High Line. Last time we were up there, it was late summer, early fall. The grasses were growing through the old tracks. It was beautiful. 

But it's spring!

 

What's this?

Eastern Red Bud
Mister and our friend Leanne, pushing our "new" double stroller (the Phil & Ted's Dash, cumbersome! not dashable)
Not sure.
Buildings line the High Line, the raised train track ran between and through buildings along the Hudson River, through the Meatpacking district. Moving the trains above the street kept pedestrians safer in the busy corridor. 

Many of the buildings have been or are being remodeled and refaced, glammed up. This one houses Phillips de Pury & Co., an art auction house, on the "ground" floor. I'm not sure what the business is above it, but you can see the tree cut outs through the windows. Sky, buildings, clouds reflect off the windows.
Where the wild things might be. 

I think cherry tree.

The sutra telephone game, courtesy the Rubin Museum (whose site is AWOL TODAY). A Tibetan monk chanted lines from the sutra, which were passed down from person to person along the High Line, to author Salman Rushdie. Rushdie tweeted the final words. 

Ah, bacon. Brunch at Cookshop. (GREAT food, ridiculous service.) Lunch was interrupted, for me, by Pickle's need for some milks. But first, shattering screams. We bounced up and down Tenth Ave., finally settling on the low wall in front of the General Theological Seminary across the street.

Sometimes Daily Flower: Grape Hyacinth

I mentioned before that we were working on learning flowers. These grape hyacinth are in front of an apartment down the street. Bama knew they were hyacinth. I wasn't so sure, so I sent Grandmother a photo. Then asked if they were grape hyacinth, thinking that they looked like (in my mind's eye) an illustration from Bama's Flower Fairies book. Shonuff. Grape hyacinth.

Good on Bama for knowing her stuff!