goods and heroes

a lazy saturday

Don't these exquisite breakfast radishes just seal the deal that spring is the most exciting season?

Our friends Heather and Patrick picked them up at the Green City Market this morning, along with fresh greens, spicy arugula and a crusty baguette. And then they joined us in our backyard (along with their two lovely girls, Miss Catherine and baby Elizabeth) to gnosh in a happily, non-hurried, we're-not going-anywhere-soon kind of way. 

Here's my favorite spring "sandwich," which I munched on while standing on the porch, watching Sam and Catherine "read" The Cat in the Hat to each other.

I can think of nothing better to do on a sunny Saturday in May than to sit in our backyard eating fresh greens, potato salad, watermelon, hard boiled eggs, cold meatloaf and enjoying friendship, connections, conversation, a healthy new baby and just simply the day.

And if all this goodness wasn't enough, Heather brought me this beauty of a bouquet of flowers.

And she and Catherine presented me with these completely handmade books for my birthday.

Handmade as in, Heather made them. Heather with a two month old and a two year old at home!  I can't even make my bed lately, much less a book. Wow. The green book is made with two layers of breathtaking silky paper and the wee flower book gets its fetching cover from . . . a recycled Kleenex box. I love it!

Check out the stitching on this.

Heather has promised to teach me how to make one on my own. So stay tuned. And Catherine illustrated the flower book for me. I believe it is the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Of course it is.

We certainly had our own story book sort of an afternoon together. It just reminds me how we all need to break bread together (especially al fresco) more often.

dat's right

It's not every day I find myself at the intersection of 83rd and Cottage Grove. But today, coming back from a breakfast meeting, I was heading east on 83rd, approaching a light, it turned red and then a wicked grin spread quietly across my face. There I was, looking at the shabby parking lot of one of my favorite southside treasures.

Dat Doughnuts. It sure isn't much to look at and inside it's bordering on bleak with the bullet-proof turnstyle window and flourescent lighting. But doughnuts make me happy. Let me be more specific, doughnuts made like they make them at Dat's make me happy. Their tag line is "too good to dunk" and I say amen to that. Dat makes their doughnuts fresh daily by humans, not machines. That's pretty rare these days. And they keep it relatively simple, they have raised/glazed in the classic flavors, chocolate, maple, etc. and then they have cake doughnuts (also known as old-fashioned) which is what I get all giddy over. I love the balance of crispy on the outside and moist and cakey on the inside. They also do apple fritters and long johns but I never want to bother with those kinds of things.

I ordered three blueberry, three buttermilk, one chocolate and one vanilla, all cake-style. The intention being to split the haul in half with Irma (who takes care of Sam) as I know she has a doughnut tooth that is almost sweeter than mine. The white paper bag sat in the seat beside me all 135 blocks northward, filling the car with sugary doughnut goodness. I really do want someone to make me a shirt that says, "Fried dough, what's not to like?" (Think: beignets, sopapillas, churros and so on!)

I made it home and Irma and Sam weren't yet back from playgroup. So I divided the doughnuts and picked out a buttermilk for myself. I really am a bit of a purist, I suppose. Don't get me wrong, the blueberry are divine and I am sure the chocolate are heavenly but the buttermilk, it's just about as sublime and simple and old school a doughnut gets. And in my little Monday universe of happily eating a doughnut alone and standing up in our sunny kitchen, everything seemed like it was going to be just fine.

There's an old Burl Ives song that my friend Sarah turned us on to that is called "Watch the Doughnut, Not the Hole" and today it chirped along in my brain (along with a decent sugar rush) and I thought, yes, exactly.

swap-a-licious!

Here in the land of blogging, especially amongst the creative and crafty blogs, there's this wonderful world of "swaps." In a nutshell, with a swap, you sign up with whomever is coordinating that particular swap (there's always a theme of some sort) and then if you get in, you are given a partner--and your partner can be across town, across country or even on the other side of the world.  Then you create and/or shop or thrift or whatever and then your partner do an exchange of goods--actually goodies seems a more appropriate word. There are mini-swaps with color themes and candy swaps and there's even an apron swap, I believe. The ones I am most intrigued by usually involve making something by hand with a heavy leaning toward things that involve fabric and thread or needles or yarn or felted wool and buttons and so on. But here's the rub--I don't sew or knit or crochet or any of that. I take buttons to the tailor to be sewed back on, I am that lame.

I was hyper-giddy when I stumbled upon the Kids Music Swap over at jumilla bugs' blog. (Thanks for organizing, Tracy!) What a brilliant idea and hey, I dig music and even most of Sam's music. I get mucho satisfaction making custom cds for friends and I love putting things into packages and sending them off. I even know how to create my own playlist on I-tunes. I can do this! So I signed up and we got in. We being Sam and me because we were to swap with another family's kid(s). And here's the cosmic, kismet part--my swapping partner turned out be Sally (and her sons, of course!) from shim & sons, and I've been loving her blog for several months. She does delightful and fresh things with stationery, tags and labels and such. And we all know what a paper slut I am.

So we had a blast coming up with music for her two boys ("Do you think they'll like this one, Sam?" "Mom, everybody likes 'Hinky, Dinky, Dee." Oh, of course, how could I not know that?) and we threw a couple of other little things in the box. With all the action around Mother's Day and my niece Claire's birthday, I spaced taking a photo of what we sent them. But last night, after enjoying our strawberries, a little package appeared outside our door. (Welcome to Chicago where it's not uncommon to receive your mail as the sun goes down.) Sam literally tore into it, and the first thing we saw was a lovely blue package with Sam's name on it.

Sally made Sam this exceptionally plucky apron for Sam. With a romping cowboy & indian theme on the pocket. "Look, Mom, he's looking down the rabbit hole! Where'd the cowboy go?"

I asked Sam to put it on and model it. But he said no, because we weren't baking just then. But then he had another idea on how to  use it.

That's my Sam. Anything but anything can become a cape. Well, maybe we'll whip up some scones or cookies this weekend and Sam can wear it the other way. Then he went to work on the next package.

This is the cd that the Shim clan created just for Sam! What's so great is that it has the entire Beethoven's Wig, which my sister has always raved about but I'd never heard and They Might Be Giants and about 30 other tunes. (I did not know you could fit 47 songs on one cd!) We listened to songs happily as we prepared supper last night.

And in a stunning act of swapping generosity, Sally sent me a boxed set of some of her cards. Am I lucky or what?

And I so love the sticker that was on the outside of my gift I just have to share it.

All in all, the Kids Music Swap was absolutely full of delight. For both Sam and you know who. A simple but real connection was made between a warm and giving family out in Oregon and a funny little trio living in Chicago and we were brought together by the blogging community, music and the US Postal Service. Very nice indeed.

fruit treat

Between my birthday and Mother's Day, I have received so many amazing gifts. It is dizzying in such a happy and gracious way. But I really thought yesterday would be the end of the gifting. However, when I came into the office today, this was sitting on my desk. Hmmmmm. A box made out of paper, I know a couple of people at work who like to make boxes of old/recycled papers.

It turned out it was from Molly, who shares the same birthday as little ol' me. (Ironically, I got her as my work "birthday buddy" when we drew names at the beginning of the year and so I hosted a tardy Molly ice cream sundae and root beer float party last Friday). This was a thank you gift from her. Which she really didn't have to do. She had made the box out of an old Trader Joe's bag. I love it!  I opened it up and here's what was inside:

Actually I am fibbing a bit in blog-o-sphere photo land--when I opened up the magical box there were 4 super plump, dewey, chocolate-dipped strawberries inside. I immediately chomped into one without so much as blinking or blushing. And then I calmed myself down and took a picture. Molly had made them herself, for me! Bliss. Chocolate bitter creamy but crunchy meets juicy sunny and moist. Just so you know, this was my sole RDA serving of fruit for the day. Being consumed within my cube. Not bad for a drizzly old Monday.

I brought the little but mighty box home and offered one chocolate-dipped strawberry to Sam. Sam adores "strawbabies" and he is scary into chocolate, so I figured this could be a pretty happy marriage of flavors. First he took a tentative look and then a lick via his fingers. (Like a good little monkey?)

Then he took a big, fat bite.

And then he told me it was "really very good, Mom." And without missing a beat, he asked if he could have another. So we did, we split the 3rd chocolate-dipped strawberry from Molly. We were so happy, bopping around our funky, bad 70's decor kitchen with big smears of chocolate on our mouths (yes, me too, not just Sam) and juicy strawberry juice on our tongues. And we hadn't even had dinner yet. We were happily waiting for Ted to come home so that he could enjoy and relish the last and 4th of the chocolate-dipped strawberries. That's what I call a treat!

I think we definitely are going to take a stab at making these ourselves sometime soon. I mean, why not?

I'd like to add one little detail. I know I didn't post about Mother's Day, but I wanted to mention something that made me fall in love with Sam last night all over again in the purest, mother-love kind of way. I read him his two stories then I said "Good night and sweet dreams." I kissed him and gave him a nuzzle and he said, "Happy Mother's Day, Mom." Sort of rote, you know as if he'd been prompted or felt like he ought to say it. As I was saying, "Thank you, Sam," he said very softly, "Mom, you'll be with me always." He's certainly right about that.

pinatas and cupcakes

Here's a little photo essay of the party we had on Sunday. I figure, if you've got a pinata tied to a stunning crabapple in full throttle bloom and you've got chocolate and blue cupcakes and you've got friends in your backyard, you've got yourself a totally rocking party. (Thanks, Suzanna for letting me be on the other side of the camera for this one!)

ps  we had two different types of cupcakes: the chocolate were from Angel Food and the blue (vanilla) were made by yours truly the day of the party as I thought there might not be enough--very typical pre-party panic for me. I "made" them (or more like, mixed them) from a Betty Crocker mix and Pillsbury don't-ask-what-the-ingredients-are can of vanilla frosting. our ad hoc focus group of cupcake gnoshing participants (age ranges 2 - 40 something) said they much preferred the blue cupcakes. so there you have it, Betty C.

hooray, a pinata!

It's not already the 9th of May is it? Oh my, the last 4 days are a blur, but a happy go-go-go blur. Suffice it to say that the last week has been rich in activity and preparation and celebration and family and friends and phone calls (from Australia! from Bethlehem, NH!) and insanely thoughtlful cards and gifts and luscious gorgeous flowers. I am sort of overcome with how lucky I am.

I was really lax with my camera the last few days, mainly because I just wanted to be doing what I was doing with all my heart. But I do have some shots of how Sam and I spent the first half of my actual birthday. Me and my birthday and pinatas are sort of par for the course and this has been going on since 1986 (ahem, would that be 20 years ago? it doesn't feel like 20 years ago) when my girlfriends celebrated my birthday with a huge Cinco de Mayo bash (I was living in San Diego and pinatas weren't hard to score) and stuffed the rather traditional donkey pinata with candy and a variety of illegal subtances (which weren't hard to score either). And thankfully, the pinata ritual never really went away but it got increasingly innocent (and no longer illegal) after that.

So anyhow, on Saturday Sam and I drove over to the Humboldt Park neighborhood to check out Dulcelandia--which means Candyland in Spanish.

Before we even entered the store you-know-who was pretty enchanted. Who is "E" the superhero?

And then we entered.

I was drawn to the lions.

Sam was drawn to the Spiderman pinatas. But then a dear, gentle pinata salesguy gave Sam a rainbow lollipop and so he was just sort of happy and mildly giddy (like me!) being surrounded by all these crazy colors and shapes.

I picked out a traditional star-shaped purple pinata and then we also grabbed a stick. Sam picked out a purple/blue combo.

We bought a bag of 30 plastic little Jeeps with a wee bag of chicle attached to the underbelly. And a string of plastic "Papel Picado" flags to brighten up our back porch. And then we settled up.

As soon as we got home we stuffed the pinata with the candy and then hung it on the door in the kitchen and Sam waited patiently for Saturday to actually end so that the next day would be here and the birthday party could happen.

It's time for me to go read Sam goodnight stories so I'll post some pictures and words about the happy shindig tomorrow. Good night.

blumenkinder

I turn 39 tomorrow and I love birthdays. Today, after a lovely lunch with workmates (and before picking up some super garlicky Balkan sausage known as cevapccici that we plan to grill up for the party) I went into this funny little store in Lincoln Square that sells German toys, miniatures, decorations and other trinkets. I had a general idea of what I wanted. Like a little girl with a shiny quarter going into the candy store wanting to make the best, most delicious purchase, I spent about 30 minutes making a very tough decision on which particular piece to choose. The funny old owner came and slid the glass door back on the display case and carefully pulled out different items for me to carefully consider.

Eventually I chose this one.

She is about two inches tall and the little bird is teentsy. These are from Germany, they are made of wood and hand-painted and fall under the general category of "blumenkinder" or garden kids. Most of them have a natural theme, like flowers or fruit or bunnies. I first saw them over at either weewonderfuls or littlebirds, I can't remember and then my girlfriend Suzanna (who is German) had some on her mantle when we came over to celebrate New Year's. It's funny because Suzanna has impeccable taste and her house is filled with beuatiful furniture and ultra modern, one-of-a-kind lighting and luscious art, but all I zoom in are these tiny wooden people. That tells you a bit about me, I suppose.

Anyhow, this is my little one. I bought a little blue bird to go with her because I so love birds and I wanted her to have a little friend.  And my mother also loves birds and she's the one who brought me into this wacky world 39 years ago. 

So buying myself this tiny little trinket made me feel young and fortunate and just plain old happy. And that's an exceptionally nice way to feel on the eve of one's birthday.

pizza shop hero

Sam and I passed this as we headed to take the bus to work today. (Sam's Nanny Irma was going to the march and Sam was coming to work with me.) This hand-lettered sign in the window of humble little Pizza Aroma (which mostly serves bus drivers) made me feel like humanity hadn't been completely vacuumed off the North American continent.

What we all need is a whole lot more understanding.