Function Over Form

Welcome to the great purge and reorganization of 2011!

Before I launch some other important things for the year, we needed to get organized. It was getting so bad around here that I kept wearing clothes out of the laundry basket rather than open the closet door. So last weekend was 100% dedicated to fixing some tangible, structural problems. We're nearly done, thank goodness, but I feel relieved already. Who knew that the mismatched shower curtains with the upside-down rings that screeched across the curtain rod every morning could be considered a source of stress? Apparently, they were because for the past week I have smiled every time I go in the bathroom and see our mold-free, matching, freely-moving shower curtains.

During tasks like these, it is important to keep the toddler occupied. Finger-painting works. Especially, if you allow her to paint the paper, surrounding floor, and herself. Added bonus: my David Bowie t-shirt found a second life.




This effort un-earthed a few relics. Take Trash Talkin' Turnleen, for example. Pregnant, barefoot, frosty blue-eye-shadowed, curler-headed, cigarette-slingin' Turleen. When you press her everted belly-button she says things like, "Pour me a double, I'm drinkin' for two!" She was a parting gift when we left north central Florida and now she has served as my daughters first barbie doll.




We interrupted the weekend so that I could take a marmalade-making class with Courtnay. I feel as if the heavens parted and the hands of my Grandma Marge herself steered me towards this day. Putting food by, as the old timey saying goes, is as authentic an effort as they come. We're lucky around here: some of the most amazing jams and marmalades are produced from the sweet, bountiful harvest of the west coast and particularly the areas surrounding the San Francisco bay. The people who taught the class, owners of Happy Girl Kitchen, were delightful, peaceful, and engaged. Seriously, if pickling carrots provides a relaxed pace that enables you to express these particular personality characteristics then I'm ready to move to Big Sur and can things for the rest of my life.
Thrilled to be learning the skill of canning, I was doubly pleased when the day itself turned so lovely. In the middle of stewing honeyed oranges we had a picnic on the grass in the backyard of the old Victorian where the class was held. We lazed on the blanket in the warm sun, sipping hibiscus tea and eating a salad of winter greens. "I can't believe that a moment so perfect can exist in the world....and that I get to take part in it," was my thought. Funny, I had that same thought while being presented with jewelry by my husband at dinner a couple of weeks ago.
I came home with honeyed oranges, orange rosemary marmalade, and pickled lemons. I opened the orange marmalade on Sunday morning and spread a thick layer on my toast. So good...




While I was off indulging in a canning class, Tim took the babe to the San Francisco Zoo. Grandma Judy gave us a family pass for Christmas - a great gift (in fact, Ada and I are meeting a few other families there this afternoon).

Left: this is how she "hugs" animals - by gently laying her head on their bellies. The cats find this much preferred to tail-grabbing, which is something that has just emerged in the past couple of days. 

The work week zipped by. It always picks up in the spring. Not only am I swamped at work, all of my cases are bizarre or difficult or just sad. Guiding clients through some of these things involves a lot of emotion. Maybe this isn't true for all professionals, but I am an emotional doctor. I have a tendency to hover like a worried mother over my really sick patients and cry harder than the clients after a euthanasia (I can usually hold it together long enough to make it to the bathroom). So when I have my days off, I take them and I let the love and joy of this one replenish me.








She surprised me the other night by putting on my shoes and shuffling around in them. It was hysterical, so I grabbed the camera...but it was also poignant. I am again reminded that she is watching me and that, with or without my awareness, her character is being influenced by my words and my actions. God, help me to live right so that my daughter can be happy. 

Parakeet skirt courtesy of the bee in my bonnet: one day I just up and decided to make it. Took about 15 minutes.
 I'm really not lying when I say that I will sew ric-rac on anything.  Cute, no? 

And that wraps up another edition of what we've been doing. February first is just around the corner and for me this year that means a whole new way of defining priorities and setting goals. There is work to be done...

Oh Mighty, Mighty!

Some time before we left Florida Tim predicted that towards the end of our tenure in San Francisco he would want to stay and I would want to go back - exactly the opposite of how it was when we left. I hated, I mean - hated - living in Florida. As it is with most things, hindsight is a different view. There are some things that miss so much: afternoon thunderstorms, good BBQ, leisure, and sushi bowls. Then I think about it more carefully and realize that when/if I leave here I will miss things like the vast abundance of organic produce, independent businesses, beautiful wine and the sound of the fog horns. Part of me wonders if we could live there again and another part of me thinks that we could live anywhere. Bloom where you are planted.


One thing I do love about Florida are the oak tress - grand and sprawling - with Spanish moss dripping sweet and thick from the branches.




How unfortunate that oak trees, as fate would have it, make my poor firstborn baby girl look like this:




One trip to the pediatrician (thank God my MIL networks) and some antihistamines later she was back to hanging out with her new best friend, Poochie, the cat. Poochie was high on mothers little helper = diazepam the entire time so he was exceedingly tolerant of her and she thought it was absolutely fantastic!

What extra sucks is that she wanted to be outside literally ALL.THE.TIME. Like she discovered something intoxicating and new. Riding in the car or feeding the fish - she was in heaven either way. 

Tim and I headed off to Gainesville on Tuesday. We had business to take care of but mostly this was pleasure. We had intended for the drive to be a time to get some of our 2011 goals hammered out but we didn't do that. We were looking mostly at the sky. 

Bottom: heading north into Payne's Prarie

And the billboards.  

And good BBQ:

You wouldn't know it from the picture above, but I ran out of digits upon which to count pick up trucks and SUV's. I would say that there were about 1000% more large vehicles in this parking lot than all of the parking lots in all of San Francisco, and that might be accurate given that, first, I'd have to find a parking lot in San Francisco.

I scuffed through the sand and dried leaves of this parking lot. We walked in to Sonny's and the temperature was just as I remember. Dixie Chicks were piped in to the bathroom. It's my guilty secret: when I miss FL I play country music right there in the heart of San Francisco. The flourescent lights reflected on the terra cotta tiles. There was a waitress with an outstanding mullet and rivets on the pockets of her jeans.

When I got back from the bathroom, Tim had 2 beers waiting. Damn. I tell you this - beer in a frosty mug really, truly, honest-to-God is so much better than anything. 

I salivated over the menu. I toyed with the idea of taking home some BBQ sauce. I wanted one bite of everything. See, San Francisco is amazing at most culinary ventures. But the thing about this city is that people here don't know when to stop tinkering with a good thing. It's BBQ!! Leave it alone - it is absolute perfection by definition. San Franciscans have to try to curry the BBQ sauce or make it healthy or skimp on the sides. It's just lame and disappointing. So when I find good BBQ I will eat until I am absolutely sick. In this case, it took 2 beers, 3 ribs, and 1 french fry to satisfy me. 

Once in Gainesville, I visited my favorite haunts while Tim visited his. We met up later to check in to the hotel. Now, I like hotels. Nice hotels. I like the color-coordination and that everything is clean. I like to explore the room - open the drawers, see what little welcome things have been left around. Keeping with my exploration, I love to check out the view. I threw open the curtains and raised the blinds. Then I laughed out loud. The gorgeous Gainesville skyline ain't got nothing on San Francisco:

The tallest structure - all the way in the back? Yeah, that's the football stadium. Gainesville has it's priorities in order.

The rest of the night was spent trying to find a good glass of wine. It didn't matter that we couldn't find one as there were tight, long hugs between friends, buffalo tempeh, and tuna tacos. Very precious little matches being in the company of people you love. Matt and I met for french toast in the morning while Tim went to do his own thing. I love talking with Matt - he has a way of distilling the information so that emotion becomes logic. I love that. And I need that from this friend of mine. In addition to the valued conversation I managed to get the chef to give up the recipe for nutritional yeast salad dressing. Wrinkle your nose in disgust if you must but this stuff is so good that I could drink it from the blender. If you tasted it you would be super jealous that I had the recipe and you didn't. Then I would share it with you.


Back in Tampa, we played the rest of the trip easy and slow. Instead of driving over the whole state like we normally do, we asked people to come to us. One day we took a drive down to the power plant. I know what you might be thinking, but in a brilliant PR move they have turned it into an environmental education opportunity. See, the power plant make the bay water quite warm, which attracts manatee. Even though Tim and I have snorkeled with the manatee in Crystal River on a few occasions, we were still tickled to see them in person again.

Each little blip on the surface of the water is a manatee back. There were hundreds.

Ada was perfectly non-plussed about the manatee but she did enjoy being outside and going into the little education area.











A few reasons I love this coast:

Left: one ray. Right: school of rays.

The past few times that Ada has met with Grandpa Steve, she has been terrified of his moustache. In fact, he last time Judy and Steve came to San Francisco, Steve fell asleep on our couch - Ada took the opportunity to line up some toys around him but that was as close as she would get. This time, Steve had a clear directive: to make his granddaughter like him. What better way to a girls heart than ice cream? They are best friends now. 





Tim and I had a date. We went to Bern's Steakhouse. Lord! If ever you are in Tampa, it's worth a visit even for a vegetarian. The campy lobby of this historical culinary spot reminds me of Transylvania - right up to the crushed red velvet banister of the stairs - but it defies what lie beyond. The wine list reads like a novel and the cellar nearly made we weep. But the best, the very best was the dessert room. You get a private booth constructed of old, dark wood slates and glass in which to have dessert. There is an old box on the side where you can push the button 8-track style and with a loud click we got to listen to great 80's tunes (Chaaaange....and of course, you said you'd stand by me in the middle of chapter three) while we had, what I swear, was the most beautiful treat ever: strawberry shortcake with rhubarb ice cream. I'm not lying. The coffee? Save me - it was to-die-for. Tim presented me with a beautiful pair of earrings and we felt romantic. We will go back to Bern's. Should have known it would be a good night. This was the sunset we drove into as we left for our date




Now then, the soul-searching was revealing and fruitful. I'll have more to say about this in a bit. For today, I am here. I walked home last night with Cowgirl Creamery cheese purchased from the Ferry Building in one hand and a bottle of wine from the corner wine shop in the other. The setting sun was reflected off the west-facing houses lining Ashbury Street creating brightness and beauty in a way that only San Francisco can pull off. The voice in my mind proclaimed that much as I love Florida now that I don't live there anymore, I think I'm growing into this city I live in now. How lovely to just be where I am. Bloom where you are planted.

Where We Are

Today a woman named Ingrid gave me a deep tissue massage. I like massages - I typically find them relaxing. Ingrid is one strong lady and at one moment I regretted asking for deep tissue massage as I was absolutely certain that she was about to break my leg. Nevertheless, I feel straighter and taller than I have in a while. That's awesome and all but I lay there thinking, "You know, Monica, you could get massages every day and it wouldn't likely change much. The tension is all in your head." I'm on a little journey just now in Florida. I actually have a little time to myself and I'm using this time to quietly think about what I might do to simplify and better my life - mostly because I want to be a better wife and mother. According to Ingrid, if I carry on like this my head will literally pop right off the top of my neck. That's not good for anyone.


The one thing I know for sure? Spending time with Ada is the best part of any day. But spending time with her when I have nothing else that I have to do? Oh my God, it's a natural delight - a pure, soul-brightening wonder that makes the medial aspect of my freakishly developed biceps (from picking her up over and over and over again) tingle and ache to hold her. Today I wondered if I bruised her thighs from hugging her with such a fever.

Before we left CA we started music class. I think we're gonna like this a whole lot. We sing the silliest songs and make noises - it's almost embarrassing but we are just a group of moms and nannies who want the babies in our lives to have a cool experience so we all play along. With giant grins we make "whooooosh" noises with exaggerated hand gestures. The guy leader sings in falsetto too, so there's that. In her fashion, my girl watches carefully, measuring the situation, before she joins in. Even after she has joined in she is off in her own world. My love. I hope she finds a way to make this nature work to her advantage (unlike her mother, who tolerates her own social ineptitude but hasn't turned it into an asset).





 Before I had a baby I wouldn't have recognized this next thing as a sign of brilliance but now I do. She is so smart that she can do several puzzles at once. And she gets the pieces in the right spot on the first try >90% of the time. Brilliant! Tim taught her how to rotate the pieces. This is handy not only for puzzles but also for shape-sorting games.





The other fun thing that happens in our house is naked baby time. Before and/or after a bath she will run around the house naked. She also feels compelled to pee all over the floor the second her diaper is taken off so naked baby time is a bit of a literal minefield. I'm sure there is a way to harness this power and direct it toward use of the potty but so far we just watch her so that she doesn't pee, walk through, and slip to crack her bottom on the wood floors. Because that's usually how it goes. I can't put a picture of this up because I would inevitably be arrested and my kid placed in a foster home by family services.





Before we left I started a project. Grandpa Rick is going to finish it, I think. He's handy and a bit of a pack-rat so he has spare faucets and the like laying around. In the fashion of THIS I will turn this TV stand thrifted from Craigs List for $25 into a play kitchen using the tools at hand. Can't wait!







My girl at the airport. This was not our best trip. For the love of Mike, what ever possesses me to think that we can travel across the country with a toddler? At one point I could see that the shrieking was about to reach monumental proportions so I snatched her up and high-tailed it to the bathroom at the back of the plane (we were one whole row away). I grabbed the door by the spring-loaded coat-hanger because in my desperation to spare the other passengers ear drums it was all I could find. Of course, it snapped from my fingers, pinching me and slamming the door. As soon as it happened I thought, "Oh fart. I didn't mean that but nobody else will know it." I sat on the airplane toilet and pleaded with Ada to take her first nap in 11 hours. She thought that was a dumb idea.





So here is my disoriented heart in FL. We have all been transported to Grandparent land again. It is such a lovely place. There are push cars here. We spent the day dashing madly outside to the sun kissed walkway by the water. There are no cars and no (drunk/mentally ill) homeless people - seriously, heaven for the parent of a toddler.







Grandma Judy, Jeff, Ada and I walked/rode down to the playground. We passed by a house that is almost finished but stood wide open. I waved them ahead and I went in to check it out. In there I dreamed this grand dream. Not like this was an amazing house but for a few moments I imagined us there - in a house. With our kids and our parking spot and a yard with grass on a not-too-busy road. I see why the suburbs are appealing to young families. We too may succumb, it's too soon to tell where we will be in 18 months from now. The fantasy of my memory holds such charm but when we come back here we talk about if we could really live here again? For instance, when we gathered our luggage at the airport the experience of a woman I work with came back to me. She and her partner visited Naples, FL (where my  Mom lived). When I asked her how she liked Florida, Jean summed it up as very "straight and white". Jean is Chinese and gay so take her opinion in that context. Still, one thing you really notice when you get off a plane on the west coast is the rich environment of cultures, colors, languages, and customs represented by all the various people there. I really do want my kid(s) to grow up with direct exposure to other cultures and colors and sexual orientations.







So our trip begins. A physical trip and for me a mental one with some true mind-bending and soul-searching in store. I'll probably let you know how it's going.

New Years Day in Bodega Bay

New Years Eve was our anniversary. We woke up to this gift from our suddenly snot-nosed daughter:




I was in the other room dressing for work and I hear, "AAAAWWWWW!!!!" followed by laughter and, "Babe, I'll change her but you have to get a picture of this before we (read: you) clean it up!" He likened it to Picasso. I was just reminded of that time when she threw up every single morning for months. She had neuro and ophtho exams along with an abdominal ultrasound. Later, we saw that our pedi had published a case study of a baby with the same throwing-up problem as Ada. That baby had leukemia. I don't take vomiting with a grain of salt so much any more.

When I got home from work later that night I could smell that the pork and sauerkraut I cook every single year without fail (we even served it at our wedding reception) had cooked too long. What? 14 hours in the crock pot was too much? 'Spose so. Regardless, we loaded it up in the basket of the stroller. Ada hadn't vomited the rest of the day and while she was still snotty we thought it might be OK to take her to the Taylors for some time with friends we don't see nearly enough of anymore.

It was going OK minus me running around trying to keep her natural toddler curiosity from destroying another couple's home and keeping her hands away from touching all of the crackers and all of the carrots. When the time came to put her to bed I rolled through our routine of bottle, story, and snuggle. I got up to lay her down and gave a little cough. Shit. Then another. Shit. SHIT! and then it came - I directed the first vomit to the P n' P. The next one went to the wood floor where there was no carpet and no furniture. All subsequent vomits landed squarely on me. So there I was with vomit on my sweater, jeans, and socks while I stood in the middle of a giant splotch of baby vomit with a red-faced, frightened, sick toddler who kept planting her face into my vomit-covered sweater looking for some comfort.

We got it cleaned up and I borrowed a shirt from Andrew. I lay down on the couch in the spare room with her on my chest. She settled easily, all worn out from puking her guts out. I started to doze off so I got up, laid the sleeping baby down and left the room. My eyes adjusted to the light and my mind struggled to wake up and join the party again. The Taylors announced they will welcome their own little addition in June!! Shouting and clapping followed - Hurrah! - and I felt less bad about vomit-a-palooza. There will be lots more of that in the house soon enough! Ada woke up from all the excitement so off to the dark room I went again. I lay on the couch again with her for what felt like a long time. I actually fell asleep! Tim came in to check on us and I woke up. Again to rejoin the party. We had a lovely time, toasted the new year, basked in the first moments of a new year with people we care about and when it came time to head home we were so happy that we were OK with walking up the massive hill that is 17th.

We slept that night with all three of us in the bed. It's been a long while since we did that. I was propped up in the bed with my toddler heavy on my chest, snorting in her sleep, and restlessly turning her head. I hardly slept at all so it didn't much matter when at 5:30 am she was up and ready to go. I emailed to Kathi that I had to cancel our playdate. We also cancelled plans with the Lucas family so that we could stay home and nurse our sick girl back to her happy, healthy typical self.

Later that first morning of the year she was refusing to nap and I was reaching the end of my rope. This is no way to start the new year! The whole family was growing increasingly more frustrated with each raindrop that fell outside and each toddler-tear that fell inside. So we decided to stop what we were doing and change directions altogether: we loaded up the car and drove along the coast to Bodega Bay.




That girl was passed out by the time we crossed the Golden Gate bridge. It gave Tim and I some time to talk about the new year. I love these talks though it is harder and harder to have an uninterrupted conversation these days. We have a lot to talk about just now as the next 1-2 years will be full of change for us. We want to direct those changes rather than react to moment-to-moment demands and crises, which is more representative of our recent modus operandi. Seventy miles of sleeping and quiet conversation later, we got to one of my favorite spots in the state of California: Bodega Bay.





I adore nature in all of it's forms, particularly when they are extreme: mountains that reach hastily toward the sky, gently rolling hills, vast plains, dense forests, calm bay waters, and the raucous afternoon summer storms of Florida. What I really, really love though is a moody, angry winter ocean. God, I love this rocky coast and feel moved tremendously every single time I am humbled by it's power.





It makes me happy to see her love this place.








After a nap and some time snuggled warmly to her Daddy's back the wee sickly one was in much better spirits. We stopped for a late lunch/early dinner - you can't not eat oysters when you are near Tomales Bay. It just isn't done.








We sat and watched the view (above) and drew pictures of Elmo (below) to keep Ada occupied.




We made it home after dark. We were tired  but happy. So happy. We took what threatened to be a frustrating day and we turned it around. I found not one, but two lucky pennies on NYE and I'm choosing to believe that this means the next year will be doubly as good. In fact, I am counting on it.

Happy New Year to everyone and may 2011 bring you the very best that the universe has ever offered.