Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Ava, By Ava


Got home from work last night and Madison had an informal art class waiting. We all sat down on the rug in her room and, following her direction, sketched out self portraits in pencil, which we then colored in, using the big pile of crayons our "instructor" had provided.

Ava stuck with her little project longer than anyone else, and we were all very impressed by the result, so I thought I would post it, with the artist's approval, of course.

"Are you going to send it all the way around the world?" she asked me, as I processed the scan of her little masterpiece. I told her I was, and her smile seemed to indicate she was pleased with the idea.

Copyright Ava, 2008, All Rights Reserved

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Mother's Day


To Moms about to rock, we salute you.

Saturday, May 10, 2008

Heat Trumps Chicken

Today marks the second anniversary of this blog, and over the last couple of days I was thinking about doing a kind of dewy-eyed post about how great it has been having this forum at my disposal and how important it is to take the time to really breathe in and celebrate all those little moments with your kids, because they grow and change so fast.

But we're shelving those plans, at least temporarily. The most notable thing happening in our house over the last 24 hours or so has been the onset of what can only be considered early heat in our little Olive. Early "estrus," for all those cat purists out there.

I guess the girls started noticing some differences in our kitten's behavior during the day on Thursday. By the time I got home from work and we moved through the typical bath/teeth-brushing/book-reading/fighting over degrees of "tired" routine, Olive was rolling around on the floor and making a wide-ranging array of sounds that would seem unnatural emanating from any living being not named Aretha Franklin.

We got Madison and Ava to bed and then went immediately to consult that omnipotent force technology has made available to people in distress everywhere - Google! After just a few moments spent throwing around search terms like cats... heat... symptoms... how soon... our situation was relatively clear. At four months and one week of age, our little Olive was gettin' jiggy with it. She was relatively calm watching TV with Gwen and I over the course of the night, even made it through the jarring and increasingly inscrutable distress of "Lost" without incident. Then Ava crawled into bed with us about 3 a.m. and threw off the group's equilibrium.

I tried to make a go of the middle for about an hour, then wound up taking refuge in Ava's room. She stayed with Gwen, and Olive wandered about, clearly having issues and perfectly happy to let us know about her situation through the darkness, mainly from the landing area at the top of the stairs, within convenient vocal range of all of us. Madison, who has had a terrible time with seasonal allergies this week, was zonked out on Children's Claritin and did not emerge from her comparatively tranquil slumber.

By yesterday morning, we were more convinced of our diagnosis than ever, as the odd sounds and movements continued. The girls kept asking what was going on, wanting to know what was wrong with our newest family member - a question that made Madison's "what's chicken made of?" query, which helped launch this little writing project, seem like, well, child's play.

We said Olive obviously wasn't feeling well, and that Gwen was going to take her to the vet to see what was wrong. At one point, during the morning ritual of warm milk and Noggin, Madison looked down from her chair and saw her cat laying with face and front half pressed against the floor, hindquarters raised.

"OK, that's a strange position," she said.

I agreed and tried to change the subject, but Maddie stuck with it. "It looks like she's wanting something," she continued, before observing that Olive had been unusually affectionate over the last day or so. We had several decades of life experience and an Internet search engine at our disposal but, as is typically the case, our 7-year-old quickly made up the ground.

We got the girls off to school and Gwen took Olive to the vet, who confirmed our untrained suspicions and offered to schedule a spaying for Monday. Gwen responded with some version of "um, that's just not going to work for us" - I don't ask for specific details anymore - and magically a slot for later that morning opened up.

She picked up our woozy little post-op patient about 3 p.m., and in response to the girls' questions delivered the basic messaging we'd discussed over the course of the day. Olive was trying to tell us that she was ready for a special shot that dogs and cats get at this age, to help keep them healthy, and it's such an important shot that they actually have to do a little cut to make sure it gets to the right place. We opted not to raise the specter of fertility and offspring at this moment, as part of this conversation. The approach seems to be working, and the questions have ceased as our pet, after a few uncharacteristic hisses while coming down off the anaesthesia, quietly recovers.

"I feel so bad for Olive," an emotional Madison said when everyone was back at home. "I would have my stomach opened if the doctor said it was between me and her."


[The patient, post-op, as bundled up by Ava]

Last night I brought home pizza and salads - an emerging Friday tradition - and we watched High School Musical to cap a fairly rough and hectic week. Gwen took our "baby" Ava to her kindergarten pre-screening on Tuesday, then cried off and on for two days. Our adorable and still tiny kitten rounded things out with her own coming-of-age issues, sort of a non-human but similarly unsettling variation on the theme. There's no escaping it, our girls are getting older.

And this blog is two. And although I sometimes wonder why I continue to post, what it means and who it's for, I have to admit... I'm still glad it's here.

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

Just Passing Through




Is it just me, or do late-stage Bleeding Hearts start to look an awful lot like space aliens? Just thought I would share this curious little transformation.

We've been double-locking the kitchen door just in case these guys get any ideas, and Olive has been put on high alert. No issues so far.

Monday, May 05, 2008

White Hearts (Not Bleeding)



This time of year we get the Bleeding Hearts running wild in our backyard, I've posted photos on here before, most recently as part of the Wild Art compilation.

Over coffee and Cyberchase this morning, Gwen mentioned that there was actually a white one out there as well, a little further up the hill, a companion plant to the usual red/pink we've gotten used to seeing.

I grabbed the camera and headed out back to take the shots above. And, just to round out the post, here's a shot of the "conventional" variety I took last week.


Beautiful plants, and a nice harbinger of our favorite time of year.

Sunday, May 04, 2008

Favorite Spot


Not quite sure why I'm posting this, but here it is. This has become by far Olive's favorite spot in the house, especially in the mornings.

I have to say, despite my well documented reservations, she's been a terrific addition to our home and family. Allergy issues related to her arrival have been non-existent, a fact that was confirmed about a week ago when seasonal allergies (and their resulting misery) kicked in with a vengeance. Nothing like that from our little ball of Siberian fur.

Another thing I've been wanting to post, for no particular reason, is the curious way Olive drinks. She does occasionally take a conventional sip, but seems to prefer dipping a paw into her little bowl and then "drinking" the water off of her appendage. Either approach is fine with us, except when she leans up on the bowl to get a better angle and spills its contents all over the floor.

Here's a little visual progression of her interesting hydration process.




Thursday, May 01, 2008

Never Invisible


When Madison came home from school last Friday this project was in her backpack. She said her teacher had asked all the kids to describe themselves by coming up with words that began with the letters in their names.

I was really very happy to see that our 7-year-old makes art, is absolutely friendly, a dancer, thinks she's incredible, a swimmer and someone who is generally awesome.

But it was the last line that stopped me cold, blew me away, and told me everything I needed to know about how our little girl sees herself, her continuing ability to teach and inspire someone more than 30 years her senior, and how far she can go if she holds on to feelings like this.

Monday, April 28, 2008

200


This is the 200th entry in the brief history of this humble little parenting blog. I wasn't really sure how to mark the milestone, clicking the "publish" button and sending something out into the world for the 200th time, and then Madison - whose teacher is a regular visitor - asked whether or not she could "post" something. Since she named this space, and has provided much of the inspiration for installments 1-199, that seemed like a great idea.

I asked her what she wanted to write about and she suggested providing step-by-step instructions for making the Play-Doh chips that appear above.

A little background on this.

I was walking by her room the other night and she called me in to show me her collection of colorful chips, which she keeps in a plastic container. I thought it was a cool little craft, something she came up with on her own. We actually made another batch during our weekend adventure. The combination of multiple colors produces some interesting marbling in the finished product.

So here without further ado is my first guest poster - Madison, in her own words. [She did the honors and clicked "publish," too.]

***

One day I was sitting in my room, very bored. Then I saw a few cans of Play-Doh. Then a light bulb went off in my head. I could mix the colors up. So I did.

The end.

How to make Play-Doh chips:

First - Get five or six cans of Play-Doh, any size.

Second - Mix them up.

Third - Pinch a little bit of Play-Doh, then roll into a small ball, about the size of a marble.

Fourth - Take the flat side of a plastic knife and, very gently, pat down into a circle.

Fifth - If needed, take the not-sharp side of your knife and put it to the bottom and go very gently around, smoothing the chip in case the Play-Doh cracked when flattening.

Sixth - If wanted, cut some of the circles in half. Let them dry over the next few days.

P.S. - Enjoy your chips.


[Play-Doh Chip, "The Wave," As Created And Photographed By Madison]

Found Weekend


We had the weekend I was hoping for, and my "no distractions" policy really made a difference. We got to all of Madison's sporting events, and with the exception of some loud complaining Saturday morning when she realized she was going to spend TWO of the next four hours standing around on the sidelines watching her sister play soccer and lacrosse, Ava was very good and gracious about it. We worked in some playground time to make the forced spectating a little easier to take.

She also perfected a system of playing her Leapster under a blanket, to maximize visibility and limit distractions on a day that turned out to be chilly and a little rainy.


After lacrosse practice we ran into a nearby supermarket to pick up some ice cream, and as we were driving home Madison said, "Dad, did you get your tookie on the Precor?"

"What?" I responded.

"Did you get your tookie on the Precor? 'Cause Mom said you couldn't have any more Honey Vanilla ice cream until you got your tookie on the Precor."

I did not, in fact, get my tookie on the Precor, but Madison - who reminded us several times that she had been left "in charge" by Gwen, agreed that I could have a few spoonfuls anyway.

We drove over to see my Grandmother Saturday afternoon, took in an early dinner at one of our favorite places before going bowling. As we sat down and dug into the bread basket, my Grandmother was saying something about feeling out of sorts the previous week.

"My head's in a bag," she said. "I've been doing some stupid things lately."

"Like smoking!" Ava said instantly, without looking up from the focaccia she was dabbing into olive oil on her plate.

The girls had a little argument on the way to soccer yesterday, when Madison asked Ava to give her another one of the cucumber slices she was munching on. Ava had already shared several pieces before we left home, and resisted this additional request. I encouraged her to give her sister one last courtesy, and she finally relented. "Just so you know, Madison," Ava said to cap the moment. "I'm not a fairy godmother!" Madison told me later she thought Ava was "magically vicious," a construction I'd not heard before.

Over the course of the weekend we played games, Play-Doh, read books, watched iCarly and really focused in on each other.

At one point when we were in her room, Madison said, "You know why it's hard without Mom here?"

"Why Maddie," I responded.

"Because I don't get a new bed every morning."


"Well, you know," I said. "You could make your own bed."

"I don't know how," she responded. "Mom does it with a special touch that makes me feel happy."

Gwen returned home mid-afternoon yesterday. And, as great as our weekend together was, I can say - without reservation and on all kinds of levels - we were happy.

Friday, April 25, 2008

Mr. Mom

I’ve got some Mr. Mom duty coming up this weekend, and as much as I hate invoking a designation that leads directly to the dopey, yet annoyingly self-satisfied, visage of erstwhile actor Michael Keaton, I can’t resist. Just another enduring gift to humanity from the mind of John Hughes, right up there with The Breakfast Club, a character named Duckie and the most artistically productive years in the history of one Anthony Michael Hall.

Gwen and her sister are leaving early today for a visit with their Grandmother and assorted other relatives, groupies and hangers on, returning late Sunday. I’ve been wondering how to spend the time with Madison and Ava – after thinking better of my original plan to shepherd the children through a Howard Hughes-esque odyssey featuring 60+ hours of television, innumerable pints of ice cream, sleep-deprivation and home-made pizza. Unfortunately, spring activities have already kicked in, so we’re not exactly dealing with an empty canvas.

Madison has soccer practice from 5 to 6 tonight, maybe we’ll do something fun for dinner after that. She has lacrosse practice from 9 to 10 tomorrow, a soccer game from 12 to 1, then another soccer game from 12 to 1 on Sunday. Yeah, it's that time of year. By some feat of divine intervention, Ava’s soccer squad is not practicing or playing, and I’m not exactly complaining, although I'll probably have to stop off at church on Sunday to thank God for sparing my life.

We may drive over to see my Grandmother tomorrow afternoon. She’s in her late 80s, but still very active and bowls in a league every week. The girls have had a few bowling birthday parties recently, which they enjoyed, so I figured it might be fun to all go hit the lanes together, grab some dinner and then return home for movie night. “American Gangster” and “No Country For Old Men” just hit our cable company's VOD listings. I don’t know much about either film, but based on all the critical acclaim they seem to be just what the doctor ordered for a family-friendly double feature.

The only thing I can say for sure is that it will be all quiet here in blog-land. I’m resolved to really embrace this bountiful supply of quality time with the kids, to focus in on fatherhood and stay away from computers (even Macs), e-mail, RSS feeds and cell phones. That means no new posts, no comment moderation, nothing for the next few days. I'm going to avoid the inevitable push-and-pull associated with trying to work in my own stuff by wiping that slate clean. These days are theirs. Consider us officially off the grid.

So have a great weekend and, in the immortal words of Larry Sanders, as overheard by Anthony Pellicano, “you may now flip.”

At least until Monday.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Oh Yeah? Hack This!

No school today, the girls are on break. This morning found Ava sleeping in and the rest of us sitting around the family room. Madison was eating some sliced apple (her current favorite snack) and sipping on some warm milk, watching Cyberchase after we shut down her request to begin the day with the madcap teenage high jinks of iCarly. Gwen was trying, between loads of laundry, to drink at least one cup of coffee while it was still warm. I was sitting with my own cup and her MacBook, scrolling through the roughly 684 stories that hit my RSS reader overnight.

I noticed an item from a typically great and helpful blog, Parent Hacks, under the heading "Four Parent Hacks For A Nag-Less Morning Routine." The piece, written by a teenage blogger about life in her own house, began with this:

"Every morning my mom officially declares war on: the alarm clock, then my sister, then my dad and then the toaster. You never know what to expect during my family's get-ready-for-school-routine and the only 'routine' thing about it is that it usually involves a lot of yelling and nagging. We actually miraculously managed to stop this terrible cycle by adding a few simple 'parent hacks' and I wanted to share them so you too can save your relationships, your day and your voice (if you are anything like my mom):"

Hmm, I thought, that sounds kind of interesting. We've certainly had our fair share of rough-and-tumble mornings, racing against the clock to get the girls to agree on a TV show, get them fed and appropriately dressed while tackling other necessary items like making overnight additions to Ava's Christmas List and reaching a compromise with Madison on how best to wear her hair some form of "up," in deference to the most recent seasonal lice outbreak memo from her school. It can get fairly intense.

So I enthusiastically alerted Gwen to my find, and indicated an interest – as the parent who gets to cap these brief interludes of insanity by leaving the house and spending the rest of my day with adults, and computers, enjoying leisurely lunches and the fact that no one is screaming "DAD" in my general direction every 30 seconds – in sharing this unsolicited Web-based wisdom.

She looked up from her Minnie Mouse mug and flashed me the kind of "you’re out of your depth" glance Bill Gates might have reserved for some dope who took him aside in the 1980s and said, "Billy, listen, Windows is fine, but they're kind of small spaces… you need to think bigger. How about this – DOORS!"

I began to read aloud.

The first "hack" revolved around packing lunches and backpacks the night before, so they were all ready to go in the morning when the kids were leaving for school.

"The girls won't let me pack their lunches the night before," Gwen said. "They say that the lunch isn't 'fresh' if it isn't made in the morning." Additional context here – Ava won't put a single piece of food into her mouth until she has held it to her nose and sniffed it, a level of culinary scrutiny to which I still aspire. Madison refuses to buy lunch at school, she says it's gross, and I'd argue the point if I wasn't so unbelievably proud of her for having come to this conclusion, on her own, at the ripe old age of seven.

Undeterred by the lukewarm response to hack #1, I continued.

The second point had something to do with establishing a "launching pad" location in the house where all the items needed to get out the door in the morning were kept, to avoid having to hunt around for things under deadline pressure. It was clear the writer was talking about an indoor laundry room leading to the garage, but our house doesn't have inside access to the garage, just a back door off the kitchen, leading to a stoop. This is a point of some contention, and building this kind of enclosure is a planned improvement I've been able to successfully relegate to the far reaches of the "someday" file.

So I dropped a few key words as I relayed the item, a technique I've developed for use when reading stories to Ava that stray into the jarring or intense. Snow White is a good example, and through this selective editing process I've been able to convey the idea that the Wicked Queen actually asked her Huntsman to take Snow White out into the forest and leave her there, as opposed to, say, knifing her on the spot and ripping the still-beating heart out of her chest as confirmation of the kill.

Here is the launching pad item, with the words that were sacrificed in my ultimately futile attempt at obfuscation crossed out: "We created a part of our house (the laundry room connected to the garage) that was our 'launching pad.' This is where we put everything that we needed to take out the door with us."

"She's talking about a mud room," Gwen responded instantly. "Probably a laundry room right off the garage. We don't have a room like that. Do you want to build a mud room between the kitchen and the garage?"

At this point, my beautiful and knowing bride gave me a little look that said, "Is that all you got? Bring it on." Actually, I think she may have said, "Is that all you got? Bring it on." I'm not completely sure, having blocked this portion of the conversation from my memory.

A wise person would have stopped right there, "OK, OK, I get it, these people don’t know what they are talking about – as least as it relates to us. Mission aborted." But obliviousness at home is a character trait I prize in myself, something I inherited from my father, so on I went.

The third point revolved around presenting the children with large laminated checklists, to make it their personal responsibility to ensure they had everything they needed for the day – items like water bottles, softball bag, an extra bathing suit and towel for swimming.

"These kids are older," Gwen said. "Probably in high school. Ava is five. You want me to hand her a list in the morning and send her off to school without whatever she didn’t know she needed because it was written on a big card she couldn’t read?"

Well, look, if you want to put that fine a point on it... It was clear this wasn't going well, but we were three "hacks" in already and only one left. I cheerfully soldiered on.

The final tip talked about how this writer's parents had been able to move away from increasingly intense verbal reminders that it was "time to get up" or "time to get going" in the morning by setting an elaborate series of kitchen timers and alarms that the family could recognize as key milestones and progress indicators as they got ready to leave for the day.

I realized this item was a complete nonstarter before I even finished reading it, and Gwen confirmed this diagnosis when she said, "I'm not running around here every morning setting bells and timers and whistles all over the place… are you kidding me?"

I'm fairly sure they weren't kidding, and these helpful and well-intended tips probably work great for some people. As far as our preferred morning "hack," we'll stick with our tried and true approach, at least on some mornings, which essentially amounts to the following – batten down the hatches and commence the yelling!

Monday, April 21, 2008

Different Apple

Madison has been requesting "clear pages" on the computer again, so she can write poems and short stories. She's also been experimenting with different fonts and colored texts.

I came upstairs this morning and found this little gem open on our computer.

Girl President Redux

Madison was flipping through the photos on our digital camera the other day. When she got to the monument shots I'd taken on my recent trip to Washington, D.C., she asked if I had seen the White House when I was down there.

"Yes," I said. "I walked by there once."

"Did you see the President?" she asked.

I told her I didn't, and mentioned that he was actually out of town during my trip. I opted not to totally shut down the hopeful innocence of this 7-year-old's question by letting her know that it's almost impossible for a "regular" person to visit with the President - and left the notion floating out there, unsaid, that if he'd happened to be around I might have actually been able to pop in and say hello.

"I kind of want a girl to be President," Madison said, reminding me of our recent conversation on the topic.

"Not because I think she would do the greatest things," she continued, "Just because it's never happened and I think it would be interesting, and they'd probably write a lot of books about it. Non-fiction books."

Saturday, April 19, 2008

Weekend Pizza (At Home)


My little tribute to the amazing and gone-too-soon California pizza chef Ed LaDou generated a few requests for elaboration on the strategies we use to make pizzas at home, but we were in a transitional period between dough recipes at the time, and I didn't want to make any recommendations until we had a result we were thoroughly happy with. After additional experimentation and a successful round of pies last weekend I think we're there, so here we go.

First off, making pizzas at home is easy, and fun, and is a terrific family activity because the kids can choose their own toppings, work their own dough and really get into the mix of things. Unlike, say, carving a turkey or rendering a batch of pork fat. There's no crying in pizza, as long as you keep the little ones away from the oven, and we've found this meal to be a great and casual option for ourselves or when we are hosting small groups of relatives or neighborhood friends.

We have experimented with a number of dough recipes, and the best ones all have one thing in common - they require this special combination of flour, water and other key ingredients to spend at least one night together, "resting" in the refrigerator. Yes, this extra time and lack of spontaneity really is worth it.

For many years we stuck with the "basic" and the honey wheat dough recipes in the California Pizza Kitchen Cookbook - and they were both very good. Then a foodie friend of ours sniffed at the idea that we were building our majestic pies on a foundation prescribed by two lawyers from LA who had launched what was, essentially, the McDonald's of pizza-land. Appropriately disgraced, we went looking for something a little more serious and substantial.

And we found it on the Web in a recipe by renowned baker Peter Reinhart. We make both the plain/white dough he outlines and also a wheat version we've customized to our own liking. The plain/white is perfect for red sauce, the wheat works very well with assorted "healthy" toppings like roasted chicken, spinach, mushrooms, caramelized onions, goat cheese or dollops of ricotta.

If you follow Reinhart's recipe exactly, right before you decide to scrap the pizza idea and rip your teeth out you will have been tortured by a number of very specific steps - chill the flour before using it, cut the dough into little individual pie-sized pieces before it rises, chant leavening mantras over the bowl while beating a small drum and burning eucalyptus leaves. I'm not sure how much of that is really necessary, we prefer a simple and streamlined approach.


You will need:

4 1/2 cups of unbleached white flour (we like King Arthur or Gold Medal "Harvest King")

1 3/4 teaspoons of salt

1/4 cup of good olive oil

1 teaspoon of instant yeast (sometimes this is called "rapid rise" yeast - it is NOT "active dry yeast," which is typically found in the refrigerated section of the supermarket, and needs to be activated with warm water and some kind of sugar before it will work)

1 3/4 cups of cold water

Combine the flour, salt and yeast in a large bowl. Add the olive oil and the water and stir with a spoon until the mixture becomes clumpy and impossible to move without causing permanent damage to your carpal tunnel region, then ditch the spoon and get your hands in there to knead the dough for a good five to seven minutes - until the ingredients are integrated and able to be formed into a dense ball. Drizzle a little olive oil into the palm of one hand, use it to coat the ball evenly and place into a glass bowl with enough room for your creation to double in size. Cover with plastic wrap and put into the refrigerator overnight. Now stop thinking about pizza for the rest of the day. Go make a salad or something.

The "healthier" wheat version of this dough uses the same ingredients and technique as outlined above, except we start with a mix of 3 cups of whole wheat flour and 1 1/2 cups of white. We like King Arthur Traditional Whole Wheat Flour. This is a sliding scale, and if you wanted to amp down on the rusticity you could use 1 or even 2 cups of whole wheat flour and the rest white - just find a way to get to 4 1/2 cups in total. This also provides a good opportunity to get all Cyberchase with the kids by involving them in complex math calculations. "So if Hacker uses 1 3/4 cups of wheat flour, how many cups of..."

The above recipe will make enough dough for probably 4 to 6 small/medium-sized pizzas, so plan accordingly, depending on how many people you are feeding. We usually make a batch of each kind so we can experiment with a variety of pies and either freeze whatever is left over in Ziploc bags or just throw it on the pizza stone to make a nice hunk of bread for later in the day or even the next morning. One basic rule applies here, especially given the effort and one-day delay - don't run out of dough. There's probably no greater sin than filling your house with people who have been promised home-made pizza, only to wind up apologizing profusely and searching for the number to Domino's.

Here's a little photo progression illustrating the wheat dough preparation.


[Dry ingredients, mixed, waiting for the water and olive oil.]


[This is about as far as you'll get with a spoon, time to get your hands into that bowl. Recently washed, right? We're not looking for incidental flavor enhancements here.]


[Punch the dough down along the sides of the bowl, then flip it over and repeat. This is a good way to integrate all the dry remnants into the mass.]


[After five to seven minutes of poking and prodding, you'll get to this.]


[Covered in a bit of olive oil and ready for bed, i.e. a night in refrigerated lock-down.]

Once the dough has spent the night rising slowly in cold isolation, it is basically fair game. You can use it that day or the day after that, but if you plan to wait longer you should probably freeze it - there is no warranty expressed or implied in these time estimates, we always make our pizzas the next day.

Remove the dough from the refrigerator about two hours before you are going to use it, you can punch it down at this point and fold it back over on itself, reforming the ball - it will rise again while it comes back to room temperature. When you are ready to start forming your own individual pizzas just use a knife to hack the mound apart into whatever size you feel comfortable working with. You can't get this wrong, seriously. Have a little extra flour on hand to dust the individual pieces, which will make them easier to work with, and then just pull and push and cajole the dough into thin circles, the flatter the better.

About an hour before you want to fire up the first pie, put a pizza stone in your oven and set it to 500 degrees. This is important - you have to give the stone time to absorb the heat for more than just a few minutes before you try to cook on it. Don't burn the house down (again, no warranty expressed or implied), 45 minutes to an hour is fine.

Now onto the toppings. As I said above, we really make two basic kinds of pies. Red sauce, featuring our favorite Sunday Sauce, on plain/white dough with shredded mozzarella cheese (and a little grated Locatelli sprinkled on top), and wheat dough varieties that feature a much wider array of toppings. Our favorites on this canvas include pieces of roasted chicken, sauteed spinach and mushrooms, caramelized onions, clumps of goat cheese, ricotta and, of course, mozzarella. Roasted red peppers actually make a great topping on either base. Ava isn't a big fan of red sauce, so she loves when we make pizza at home because she gets to have just dough (either kind) with cheese - which is actually a nice option, although she yells at you if you try to steal one of "her" slices. Lightly drizzle a little olive oil onto the pies before they hit the oven, it makes a difference.

When you have a piece of dough more-or-less ready for the oven, stretch it out on a pizza peel (we have a wooden one we like, but there are many kinds) on top of a light dusting of corn meal or farina. The small grains will help the finished product slide off the peel and onto the stone, and believe me when I say you do not want to get hung up at that point in the process - you want to flick that pie off the peel and into the oven with confidence. They will take anywhere from 8 to 12 minutes to cook, depending on the thickness of the crust. Let the condition of the bottom - color, texture - be your guide on when they are ready to eat.

Anything is fair game when it comes to toppings - basically whatever you like to eat will work on top of a pizza, so go crazy and start experimenting. But less really is more here. I've told myself this about 100 times, and there are moments when I still don't believe it, but I always regret it after the fact. You are not stuffing a sandwich, this isn't a Subway commercial, the star is the dough - which you are appropriately enhancing with the toppings and flavors you choose.

Overloaded pizzas don't cook right, and they don't eat right, and they are generally a mess. Don't waste your precious ingredients (all fresh and top quality, of course) and the time and effort that goes into this multi-day endeavor by pulling an Icarus and flying too close to the sun on wings of pepperoni. Apply the self-restraint on the pizzas and cut yourself some slack on the wine. You'll thank me. Honest.

Now go and get ready for tomorrow's dinner.

Monday, April 14, 2008

Random Frozen Plug, For Bees

My favorite ice cream of all time was a Haagen-Dazs flavor called "Honey Vanilla," which was criminally inexplicably discontinued several years ago. There have been a few other worthy contenders to the throne, notably Baskin-Robbins Chocolate Chip, Ben & Jerry's HEATH Bar Crunch, even plain old Haagen-Dazs Vanilla was serviceable enough, but nothing really came close to the subtle perfection of the Honey Vanilla I remembered from my youth.

A few months ago I became aware of a new Haagen-Dazs creation, in their "reserve" line, called Hawaiian Lehua Honey & Sweet Cream Ice Cream. I made a point of finding and buying a pint, only to be thoroughly disappointed by a product that was, in my opinion, far too rich, and marred by slightly sickening golden swirls of bland sweetness running through the vanilla base. I guess that was the prized "Hawaiian Lehua Honey," oh well. Manufacturer and key ingredient aside, it wasn't close to what I was looking for.

More recently, I was doing a little late-night rummage through our freezer and found a surprise Gwen had left there waiting for me, a pint of this. I got a spoon, opened it up and was immediately transported back in time, back 20 or 30 years, to that same amazing and singular experience. Perfectly integrated clean and delicately well-balanced flavors, a lingering honey finish, and without the over-the-top assault of the flawed "reserve" version. It was phenomenal. Haagen-Dazs Honey Vanilla is back. They're calling the new incarnation "Vanilla Honey Bee," but they could call it toasted asphalt and wouldn't have any problem with me, as long as it tasted like this.


I'm mentioning this now because, if the company's Web site is to be believed, Vanilla Honey Bee is a "limited edition" flavor that will only be available through December. If you are even slightly predisposed to vanilla or honey, do yourself a favor and don't miss it this time around. We're doing our part here to boost sales to the point that they'd be crazy to stop making the stuff, but we can use all the help we can get.

The return of this epic flavor also seems to be part of a broader initiative that Haagen-Dazs has undertaken to raise awareness of the increasingly dire plight of the world's honey bees, and the potentially devastating effects associated with their mysterious decline. They've put up a pretty amazing site with more information on the situation. It's no Bee Movie - which our whole family loved, by the way (good job, Jerry) - but is well worth a visit.

So go out and buy a pint of Haagen-Dazs Vanilla Honey Bee, I'm willing to bet it won't be your last. You might even save a bee, and the best ice cream in the history of the planet.

Saturday, April 12, 2008

Springing


Welcome signs of life are appearing in our backyard.

In a couple of months, this little bundle of leaves will have turned into this.

Fired up the grill tonight and ate dinner outside, at the girls' request, after an extended bike-riding session.

We like this time of year.

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

Christmas In April

One of the most interesting things happening in our family at the moment is watching Ava's mind develop through the concepts she invents, embraces and won't let go. When we returned from our trip to Disney late last year, she told us almost every night for weeks that she wanted to go back and "live there," a sentiment she continues to express from time to time, in vivid detail. Whenever we let the girls know about a planned vacation, Ava is the one who asks "in how many days," and "for how many days," basically every day, until we leave.

A couple of months ago, out of nowhere, she said she wanted to start working on her Christmas List, and since we try to live in the land of "anything is possible" - as opposed to, "well, let's see... you're almost a year early, so let's say no for now" - we dutifully wandered over to the iMac and opened up a new file called Ava's 2008 Christmas List.

Every few days, typically before she goes to bed or right after she wakes up, Ava will request an addition (or additions) to the list, and the document has continued to evolve, our own little Rosetta Stone into what she's currently thinking about or fixated on. "Don't forget, Dad, I want to put this on my Christmas list," she'll say. "OK? Don't forget." The presence of the list has also offered an early opportunity to apply seasonal shock and awe, in the form of an occasional threat to hit the delete button, which has proven to be an extremely effective disciplinary technique in moments of severe distress.

We're not doing a lot of editing right now, since we still have more than eight months to come up with messages able to convince our headstrong and very specific 5-year-old that there really is no such thing as a robot able to deliver Rice Krispies on demand, or need for her to have gift cards to a supermarket, or that much Play-Doh in the world.

Here is the current list, as dictated:

All the colors of Fun-Tak

Silly Putty

Play-Doh

Medium cans of Play-Doh, every color

Foamy paper, no sticky backs

Little cans of Play-Doh too

Mickey’s Christmas (movie)

Shrek 1 and Shrek 2

Two big Leprechaun books – one what they are like, another how to catch them, and learning how they talk and what they like to eat and what movies they like

Three books about outer space

Two books about (school) principals

One book about dinosaurs

Three BIG Dr. Seuss books

All of the iCarly movies

One big fairy tale book… three little pigs, the wolf, etc.

Big Cruella De Vil book – fat

Big Pocahontas book, with a lot of the Pocahontas stories in it, big and fat

One huge ballerina book with all the steps

Another pack of medium cans of Play-Doh for my shop

Robot that has Chocolate Rice Krispies and they will give them to me and if I want milk on it too they will give me milk too

Different robot with regular Rice Krispies, same thing

Little robot that will clean up any room, and one that will play with me when I’m outside

Robot that can dance with me, and will sing and take my radio’s place. And a ballet one that will teach me some ballet moves

Play-Doh robot that will make big cans of Play-Doh

Sand Play-Doh in every color

Lady and the Tramp 2

Knuffle Bunny 1, 2 and movie

Eraser pack and a box of erasers, medium-sized box with lots of erasers in it

All the Alvin and the Chipmunks movies there are… on one disc

Gift cards – from Stop & Shop, Fairway and Five from Target

Big box full of all the gift cards from all the stores in Aruba, Vermont, home and Disney

To be continued...

Friday, April 04, 2008

Fantasy, Meet Reality


See, I predicted that getting a pet would be good for 75 to 80 phone-it-in posts a year, and with two already this week we are right on track.

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Blossoms







In Washington, D.C. for a few days on business. Luckily enough, my trip coincided with a certain seasonal festival they celebrate down here. Guess which one.

Monday, March 31, 2008

It Didn't Take Long


For our new cat Olive to appreciate the wonder of radiant heat.

Saturday, March 29, 2008

The Accounting


We went down the street last night and had pizza with neighborhood friends who have children of similar ages. We've happily gotten to the point where the adults can sit around a table and enjoy food, wine and quiet conversation while the kids are off somewhere else, playing in the basement or otherwise amusing themselves - a developmental milestone that clearly trumps walking, drinking out of regular cups or learning not to wander about the house with digestive waste suspended in purpose-built undergarments.

We're also in that sweet and innocent period during which the list of nefarious things that might happen to one of the little ones during these non-parental interludes is basically confined to falling down on the sharp edge of a block, fighting over a toy, enduring a paper cut or choking on some Play-Doh.

They also might have occasion to watch something on television that we don't typically allow at home, which Madison reminded us of at the conclusion of this impromptu adult/child play-date, by presenting the above handwritten account of all of the "unappropriate" shows she and her diminutive co-conspirators watched - in whole or in part - over the course of the evening.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Virtual Animal Cruelty

Ava, riding in the car tonight, apropos of nothing:

"Dad? I need to go on the computer sometime soon, 'cause one of my Webkinz doesn't have a bed in their room, and they've been awake for, like, two years. I'm serious, Dad, and it's not even funny. I need to go on there soon and get them a bed, so they can go to sleep, OK? Quickly."

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Top Chef – Family Function Edition

We drove down from Vermont on Sunday and made it to my parents’ house in time for a mid-afternoon Easter dinner. After having watched back-to-back episodes of Top Chef the night before, Gwen and I amused ourselves by imagining what it would be like to subject this kind of big family meal to the rigors of the show’s brutal judging.

Cue Uncle Freddy, in the role of Tom Colicchio, addressing the hassled matriarch host, sweat beading on her forehead as she carries in another platter of candied turnips: “Can I just ask, did you taste the mashed potatoes before you served them? You did? Did you think they were salty?”

Matriarch: “I… I thought they were good.”

Uncle Freddy (Colicchio): “Hmm...” [Shakes head in dismissive disgust] “I have to say I wonder whether you’re really right for this competition.”

Aunt Sally, affecting her best Tony Bourdain: “What is your major malfunction, Grandma? When the turkey’s ready for the window it’s ready for the window. I don’t give a damn if the kids say they want ten more minutes playing Webkinz, it’s your responsibility to get that food out! The piece on my plate was so dry it would have made a perfectly acceptable doorstop.”

Your sister (Padma), looking far more fetching than you remember, staring blankly at a card that has just been handed to her and reading slowly: “I’d like to hear more about the empanadas. What was the motivation for combining the goat cheese and black licorice? Did you think it was successful?”

Back to Uncle Freddy (Colicchio): “I think that dish was actually fairly well-conceived. Unfortunately, it really fell down in the execution.” [Looks at others while awarding himself an affirmative, self-satisfied nod.]

Aunt Sally (Bourdain): “I find it hard to get past the stuffing. I mean, I’ve scraped things off my shoes in dark alleys that were more appetizing.”

[Uncle Freddy (Colicchio) chuckles and offers an admiring glance. He’s down with Tony, now that he’s evolved from the kind of gangly tough who used to torment him unmercifully on the school playground - “Hey, Saucier, you want some of this?” - and sit menacingly at the back of Social Studies class reading a dog-eared copy of “The Catcher in the Rye” through dark sunglasses.]

The camera focuses in on Rocco DiSpirito, sitting at the end of the table. Not a relative playing Rocco DiSpirito, the actual person, who had nowhere else to go: “Did anyone write something for me to say here? No? Well, at this point let’s be honest, I’m just grateful for the hot meal.”

Your sister (Padma), affecting a level of stilted gravitas usually reserved for debates over global warming, or telling someone their pet died while they were away on vacation:

“Grandma... please pack your knives and go.”

Monday, March 24, 2008

Hanging On

A Blog "Of Note"


Big Bucket List development for this blog the other day. I guess you could also call it a Tipping Point – Morgan Freeman or Malcolm Gladwell, pick the personified literary device you’re comfortable with. We were tapped by Blogger as a “Blog Of Note,” and in the event there were any lingering questions related to the power and influence of Google let’s just wrap that up right now, because one nice reference on the Blogger home page resulted in more people coming here in two days than had stopped by over the nearly two-year history of the site. And most of those earlier visitors were compensated celebrity endorsers.

Suddenly we can’t help feeling like U2 at Red Rocks, the boys from Nirvana after “Smells Like Teen Spirit” hit MTV, William Hung as he wrapped up his American Idol audition. You get the idea.

We quietly enabled reader comments a couple of months ago, and as is typically the case for fledgling blogs, no one commented. Not the case over the last few days, and to everyone who has written a kind word in response to one of our recent posts, let me say thank you. To the couple of people who took time out of their busy schedules to pass along word that my blog made them want to vomit, not so much.

I sent an e-mail over the weekend to the good people over at The Best of Blogs, saying I didn’t think I’d meet the eligibility requirements to defend my “Parenting Blog” title in this year’s installment, given this welcome influx of new visitors. While writing the message it occurred to me that these unofficial blog contests shouldn’t really be about defending titles anyway, they should be about helping little-known (or entirely unknown) blogs find an audience. Every time I click on a new site I’m amazed at how much great stuff is being written and posted out there. So go out and click away. And thanks again, very much, for clicking here.

This is your blog:


This is your blog on Blogs Of Note:


Any questions?

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Seven

It was seven years ago today, a little after 5 a.m., when they handed you to us. Your mother had been sitting in a rocking chair in our apartment the afternoon before, and felt a little tinge of something that seemed worth investigating. I’ll leave it to her to fill you in on the clinical details somewhere down the road. Let’s just say we were sufficiently motivated on a Saturday afternoon to grab our “go” bag and head into the hospital, where we got the confirmation we were hoping for. You were on the way.

Once we were admitted – and my role was basically reduced to administering ice chips and verbal reassurances while trying not to pass out – I remember coming to the strong realization that when we left this place it would be with you. Our two was turning into three. Our marriage was turning into a family.

Seven years ago today, we traded the lives we were living, the only ones we’d ever known, for you. We traded quiet Sunday mornings with coffee and the paper and pleasant mid-afternoon phone calls plotting spontaneous dinners at favorite restaurants for diapers, sleep deprivation and stuffed animals. And it was the best deal we ever made.

Tonight after work I picked you up at dance class. Like we do most every Tuesday night, we stopped off at a little Italian place on the way home for some dinner. You had your usual Caesar salad with the special lemon vinaigrette dressing, and then we split a pizza. You were tired walking in the door and ready to leave mid-way through the first slice. When I motioned to my half-full glass of wine in an appeal for more time you said, and I quote, “Come on, Dad, slurp it down!” True to yourself, Madison, to the end. No matter what life throws at you, I hope it’s something you never lose.

And happy birthday.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Wild Art

We've been picking up some new visitors over the last few days, largely as a result of a very nice post over at The Best of Blogs. So, in an attempt to get everyone up to speed (and to phone it in on a Saturday) I thought I would compile some of the more memorable wild art/screen saver/wallpaper images that have graced this blog over the last couple of years.

In other news, the Olive integration is proceeding nicely. Allergy impact has been minimal to non-existent, I guess there really is something to these anecdotal claims that have been directed at Siberian cats. The girls are dragging carrying her all over the house, and she's been unbelievably good natured about it. I can say without reservation that she's been a great addition to the family.

Here she is, earlier today, sleeping on Ava.



Now for the photos...