Lots of things make me happy - my family, running, cooking, business analysis (yes, I am a dweeb) for starters. But two things that make me inordinately happy are eating and, well, drinking. How can I make that sound better? Enjoying festive beverages. Enjoying adult beverages. Hmm...guess I'll have to work on that.
In the meantime, I thought I'd write about our meal last night, and the wine that went with it. After a whirlwind sort of weekend ending with a lovely glass of chardonnay with Brian and Linda while the kids swam, I decided I had no idea what to do for dinner. The obvious answer for a (late) summer evening*? Throw some steaks on the grill. More specifically, have JBL cook while I set the table and then sit on my ass watching preseason football.
Now as a preface to all this libation talk, I have to say I am extremely fortunate to be married to a man who not only loves wine, but loves to buy it in mass quantities. I know not everyone has this luxury, and am not tooting our collective horns when I talk about what we are able to enjoy. Know my sharing of this stuff comes from a place of simple happiness, rather than snootiness. And heck, there are probably people out there who would read this and think, is that the best you poor palettes can experience? Rural mid-Maryland rubes.
Onwards. The meal was nothing elaborate - just filet mignon (thank you Costco) seasoned liberally with dried thyme and oregano, garlic and onion, and cumin and cayenne, along with grilled corn and some good Italian bread (thank you Concetta's). No, nothing green. We weren't in the mood.
JBL selected Whitehall Lane's 2003 Cabernet Sauvignon. This is a solid producer of big reds (as well as whites) in Napa Valley, and this particular bottle was a perfect example of what you'd expect from them. The cab was big and luscious though it still tasted 'tight' (my description of young reds that need more aging before they can really open up and offer all their potential flavors). I imagine it would have done better had it been allowed to breathe for a longer period - we had only uncorked it about 30 minutes before the meal.
Per our friend Sarah, it fit into a common category for us - being 'toasty-oaky-cherry-berry', and it's acid and subtle spice cut nicely through the buttery flavors in the meat. It also stood up well to the spice on the steaks, with round notes of vanilla. Overall, a yummy powerhouse red I would highly recommend.
*Last night was that first evening when, as the sun was setting, we all looked at each other and noted a light jacket would be appreciated. It will be fall before we know it! Boo!
Monday, August 31, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
The surfer
Last week we were in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. This is by far one of my favorite places to vacation, what with its sparsely populated beaches, its bevvy of nice restaurants, shops and tourist attractions, and its bounty of natural beauty. I love the big houses we rent with the in-laws. I love that we always stay right on the beach, often leaving our gear on the sand all day as we come and go from the house. I love the flat running routes all along the beaches and paths that parallel 12 North. I love how my family settles into the laid-back lifestyle as easily as you slip into your favorite pajamas. The whole thing is effortless and comforting.
The week started out with calm seas nearly as warm as bath water. K was able to regain her mastery of the ocean's challenges - monitoring the current just offshore, timing her handling of the waves, and enjoying boogie-boarding. J was able to try out her new swimming skills (with the life vest on, of course), joining her dad and big sister in the gently undulating waters. I took my favorite perch, now under the umbrella reading, now snapping photos of the girls burying themselves in the sand, plucking shells along the shoreline, taunting the waves flirting subtly with their feet.
As the week progressed and hurricane Bill made his way up the corridor between Bermuda and the east coast, the surf became rougher, the water colder, the air damper. By Friday we could no longer venture beyond the breakers, and were relegated to the foam and froth that now fairly roared halfway up to the dunes. It was no hardship to be sure. There were still long afternoons contemplating the plover and sanderling, the cirrus and the cumulus.
On Saturday, after the great mists had lifted and the breakers became once more distinct, I began to look for surfers. JBL mentioned overhearing them at Wee Winks before the storm brushed by us, discussing the possibilities for good waves. Now, looking out from our deck at the 10-12 foot swells bending into perfect curls that spilled cleanly south-to-north along the beach, I scanned the water for them. What surfer could resist these exaggerated waves, powerful and unyielding?
There. I saw one man sitting, stradling his board a good distance out from the shore. Though his board faced south, he looked constantly, continuously over his left shoulder, out to sea. I imagined he was waiting for the clearly-defined swell in the distance that promised to become the wave he could take safely for a decent run. When wave after wave passed him by, I began to wonder what he was really looking for on the horizon. Was he afraid? Or did he think each wave that passed was too small to ride? Heck, maybe he was just out on the water looking to avoid his family and be alone for awhile.
But as I looked out over him from my perch high on the deck, well above dune level, I wondered why he couldn't see what was coming more clearly. There were at least three times I wanted to jump up and down yelling, "Here comes one! Turn your board and start paddling!!" It was so clear to me - why couldn't he see the swells forming each time he crested waves passing him by?
He never did get a ride that day - at least not that I saw. I lost interest after the next ten minutes, and went back inside, likely seeking out the next pina colada. The rest of the trip passed in a blur of sunscreen, swimming, and lovely meals largely comprised of shrimp. (Who knows why. I was in a shrimp place I guess. Insert Bubba Gump reference here.)
As the week waned, JBL and I went out on our 'date night' while the in-laws enjoyed some girlie time. At some point in the evening, after several glasses of champagne, I expressed my dread of J's upcoming indoctrination into kindergarten.
"I just feel like I'm turning her over to someone else," I wailed. JBL assured me that J would fare just fine, that her time with me these past 5 years has been the best thing we could have done for her, and that J is in fact Ready. I lamented that I wished someone would just tell me everything would be O.K. That SHE will be O.K. Visions of my perfect neighbor who homeschools passed before my eyes. Images of J weeping sadly after 5 hours away from home in some dank school bathroom tormented me. JBL hugged me and assured me I was being silly, which is in all likelihood true.
Back home after the vacation, I tried to reorient the family to our normal routines. However, one of us wanted to test her boundaries, choosing rather to question the status quo. Imagine that. But after a summer of managing her bike riding while reducing the need for training wheels, watching swim lessons where she conquered every skill except getting her face wet, and introducing The Shower to replace The Bath (which went well except for the aforementioned fear of getting the face wet), I was in no mood when J insisted she brush her own teeth before bed.
Previously I had allowed her to brush her teeth unsupervised in the morning, while reserving the before-bed session for me so that I could give her a more thorough cleaning. She had always liked this arrangement, cringing when I threatened to leave her to her own devices morning and night when she turns six. Then, suddenly, she insisted on doing both sessions herself. What gives?
Tonight at bedtime, after reading, I sing to her the same songs we have sung every night for the past five years. In the middle of 'You Are My Sunshine,' she interrupts me.
"Eleven plus eleven is twenty-two."
"That's right. Did someone tell you that?"
"No. I just thought of it. It's two more than ten plus ten."
And I want to cry. I am like the surfer looking out on towards the horizon, not seeing the perfect waves coming to me, passing me by. I have missed all the signs I was looking for, until now, telling me that J is more than ready for kindergarten. I am the one who is not ready. My lack of perspective kept me from seeing what was coming. She is leaving me, and it will be O.K. Both of us will be O.K. This is what I wanted to know, and all along it was right in front of me. It is J. Thank you God for this insight, and for the pleasure of having taken this ride for the first part of her life. Thank you.
The week started out with calm seas nearly as warm as bath water. K was able to regain her mastery of the ocean's challenges - monitoring the current just offshore, timing her handling of the waves, and enjoying boogie-boarding. J was able to try out her new swimming skills (with the life vest on, of course), joining her dad and big sister in the gently undulating waters. I took my favorite perch, now under the umbrella reading, now snapping photos of the girls burying themselves in the sand, plucking shells along the shoreline, taunting the waves flirting subtly with their feet.
As the week progressed and hurricane Bill made his way up the corridor between Bermuda and the east coast, the surf became rougher, the water colder, the air damper. By Friday we could no longer venture beyond the breakers, and were relegated to the foam and froth that now fairly roared halfway up to the dunes. It was no hardship to be sure. There were still long afternoons contemplating the plover and sanderling, the cirrus and the cumulus.
On Saturday, after the great mists had lifted and the breakers became once more distinct, I began to look for surfers. JBL mentioned overhearing them at Wee Winks before the storm brushed by us, discussing the possibilities for good waves. Now, looking out from our deck at the 10-12 foot swells bending into perfect curls that spilled cleanly south-to-north along the beach, I scanned the water for them. What surfer could resist these exaggerated waves, powerful and unyielding?
There. I saw one man sitting, stradling his board a good distance out from the shore. Though his board faced south, he looked constantly, continuously over his left shoulder, out to sea. I imagined he was waiting for the clearly-defined swell in the distance that promised to become the wave he could take safely for a decent run. When wave after wave passed him by, I began to wonder what he was really looking for on the horizon. Was he afraid? Or did he think each wave that passed was too small to ride? Heck, maybe he was just out on the water looking to avoid his family and be alone for awhile.
But as I looked out over him from my perch high on the deck, well above dune level, I wondered why he couldn't see what was coming more clearly. There were at least three times I wanted to jump up and down yelling, "Here comes one! Turn your board and start paddling!!" It was so clear to me - why couldn't he see the swells forming each time he crested waves passing him by?
He never did get a ride that day - at least not that I saw. I lost interest after the next ten minutes, and went back inside, likely seeking out the next pina colada. The rest of the trip passed in a blur of sunscreen, swimming, and lovely meals largely comprised of shrimp. (Who knows why. I was in a shrimp place I guess. Insert Bubba Gump reference here.)
As the week waned, JBL and I went out on our 'date night' while the in-laws enjoyed some girlie time. At some point in the evening, after several glasses of champagne, I expressed my dread of J's upcoming indoctrination into kindergarten.
"I just feel like I'm turning her over to someone else," I wailed. JBL assured me that J would fare just fine, that her time with me these past 5 years has been the best thing we could have done for her, and that J is in fact Ready. I lamented that I wished someone would just tell me everything would be O.K. That SHE will be O.K. Visions of my perfect neighbor who homeschools passed before my eyes. Images of J weeping sadly after 5 hours away from home in some dank school bathroom tormented me. JBL hugged me and assured me I was being silly, which is in all likelihood true.
Back home after the vacation, I tried to reorient the family to our normal routines. However, one of us wanted to test her boundaries, choosing rather to question the status quo. Imagine that. But after a summer of managing her bike riding while reducing the need for training wheels, watching swim lessons where she conquered every skill except getting her face wet, and introducing The Shower to replace The Bath (which went well except for the aforementioned fear of getting the face wet), I was in no mood when J insisted she brush her own teeth before bed.
Previously I had allowed her to brush her teeth unsupervised in the morning, while reserving the before-bed session for me so that I could give her a more thorough cleaning. She had always liked this arrangement, cringing when I threatened to leave her to her own devices morning and night when she turns six. Then, suddenly, she insisted on doing both sessions herself. What gives?
Tonight at bedtime, after reading, I sing to her the same songs we have sung every night for the past five years. In the middle of 'You Are My Sunshine,' she interrupts me.
"Eleven plus eleven is twenty-two."
"That's right. Did someone tell you that?"
"No. I just thought of it. It's two more than ten plus ten."
And I want to cry. I am like the surfer looking out on towards the horizon, not seeing the perfect waves coming to me, passing me by. I have missed all the signs I was looking for, until now, telling me that J is more than ready for kindergarten. I am the one who is not ready. My lack of perspective kept me from seeing what was coming. She is leaving me, and it will be O.K. Both of us will be O.K. This is what I wanted to know, and all along it was right in front of me. It is J. Thank you God for this insight, and for the pleasure of having taken this ride for the first part of her life. Thank you.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Motivation, part 2
I was just about to post something about feeling sore from yesterday's kickboxing and trying to avoid my speed work today, but then I read VG's post. Man, that girl (actually, a stay-at-home mother of 2) puts me to shame.
So later today I will hit the treadmill for the usual torture of splits, and will just shut the h-e-double-hockey-sticks up about it already.
So later today I will hit the treadmill for the usual torture of splits, and will just shut the h-e-double-hockey-sticks up about it already.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Late summer
You know it when:
- There are more bugs chirping in the morning than birds
- The kids are less interested in the sprinkler and popsicles
- You're less interested in keeping the annuals well-watered
- You notice the sun lower in the sky as you're cleaning up dinner
- The petunias look rangey
- You are no longer shocked that there are back-to-school items at Target
- You start to panic when you see the back-to-school items at Target
- You are excited at that one day when it's cool enough to open the windows in the morning
- You have forgotten entirely what it feels like to walk outside and feel chilly
Here's to the close of a beautiful season...may it hold on for at least another month...
- There are more bugs chirping in the morning than birds
- The kids are less interested in the sprinkler and popsicles
- You're less interested in keeping the annuals well-watered
- You notice the sun lower in the sky as you're cleaning up dinner
- The petunias look rangey
- You are no longer shocked that there are back-to-school items at Target
- You start to panic when you see the back-to-school items at Target
- You are excited at that one day when it's cool enough to open the windows in the morning
- You have forgotten entirely what it feels like to walk outside and feel chilly
Here's to the close of a beautiful season...may it hold on for at least another month...
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Oh, no he di-in'
Cleaning up quickly before my friends come in from out of town. Early this morning, I eyed-up That Section of counter over by the pantry where clutter goes to...well, not die, but become invisible. We all have that section of counter, right? There were pictures the kids had drawn, destined for their memory boxes in Jon's basement closet. There were little sample paint cans for colors we're considering for the bedroom. There was J's little pink radio.
Several times this morning, as I flew by carrying cleaning products or running the vacuum, I would notice said things, and yell out to JBL, 'Can you help take this stuff downstairs?' He was doing other prep things, like putting the patio cushions out, but also non-prep things like checking email. Finally after 2 hours I brought the clutter up again, and he stopped me short.
"You have already asked about that."
"I know," I replied in a joking tone, "and I can't help but feel as though I am being ignored."
"Well, none of that stuff is mine!"
He says this to me with a straight face. He says it after I have cleaned three bathrooms (none of them mine) and vacuumed 5 rugs plus the upstairs bedrooms (only one of which is mine) and the hallway. He says it as I am carrying THREE laundry baskets (stacked on top of each other) with clean and folded clothes up the stairs.
I chose to laugh rather than punch him in the face. Good for me.
Several times this morning, as I flew by carrying cleaning products or running the vacuum, I would notice said things, and yell out to JBL, 'Can you help take this stuff downstairs?' He was doing other prep things, like putting the patio cushions out, but also non-prep things like checking email. Finally after 2 hours I brought the clutter up again, and he stopped me short.
"You have already asked about that."
"I know," I replied in a joking tone, "and I can't help but feel as though I am being ignored."
"Well, none of that stuff is mine!"
He says this to me with a straight face. He says it after I have cleaned three bathrooms (none of them mine) and vacuumed 5 rugs plus the upstairs bedrooms (only one of which is mine) and the hallway. He says it as I am carrying THREE laundry baskets (stacked on top of each other) with clean and folded clothes up the stairs.
I chose to laugh rather than punch him in the face. Good for me.
Friday, August 7, 2009
And it all matches
J is enjoying one of our school year purchases. Who knew the rain boots would be such a hit?
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Cha-ching
I am now finished 90% of my school shopping for J. What a process! I was with a friend when I bought her school-monogrammed shirts. "Cha-ching," she said, "And the first of many cha-chings to come." School store - cha-ching! Land's End - cha-ching! Target - cha-ching! Last on the list is The Blazer, to be worn on formal dress days only. I saw them online for $80. For a 5-year-old. EIGHT - ZERO. I think my face is going to fall off with the money stress. There are cheaper versions around...I am sure...aren't there...?!
It will be nice for J avoid the fashion worries that often cripple young ladies, what with the uniforms and all. But I do so miss the days when I could stock her fall wardrobe for under $100 (including shoes, winter coat/snow pants and boots) at Target and Wal Mart.
I guess the whole thing is weighing on me because the clothing is truly a drop in the bucket compared to the school tuition. Over her lifetime, between now and high school graduation, we will spend the equivalent of a townhouse in Paris in tuition. Or at the very least a set silver-plated drool cups and toilet chairs for when I get The Alzheimer's. JBL has let me make this decision for her, and I feel good about it, but still...
Someone recently told me to stop worrying about money. Seriously. Can you believe that?
"What has happened in your life when you've needed money? I mean, have you EVER not had money when you really needed it?"
"No," I replied quietly. I thought of my grandfather helping me with the down-payment on my house, my company helping pay for my graduate degree, and the kind folks at Visa who financed my trip to San Fransisco so I could freak out when I needed to, and pay for it (in more ways than one) at my leisure.
But this is such a huge and long-term commitment, it frightens me. Factored in are the adult responsibility for the here-and-now, the wisdom required to plan for my own future (I'm almost 40 for crying out loud), and the knowledge that my decision affects my partner-in-life as well as my daughter. And believe me, JBL would rather have the house in Paris.
Additionally, this is about second-guessing myself. Did I really make this choice because I think J is 'advanced' - beyond where my local schools could challenge her? Or is it about my need to keep up with the proverbial Jones's? I know she's smart. REALLY smart. But couldn't I just opt for homeschooling, and save all that money? I am fully capable of teaching her, and would in fact get a kick out of it. I know several parents who have chosen this option, and their kids are both socially healthy and academically superior to their peers.
Maybe the stress is about letting go, not about money at all. Someone else will have her ALL DAY. I am paying through the nose to no longer be her everything. She falls down? Someone else holds her while she cries. She has a question about math or reading? Someone else gets to answer her...gets to watch her mind chew on it, and take it all in.
I am sorry this blog is all about my worries, fears and weaknesses, but it really does help to write it all out. Here it is. I am penny wise and pound foolish. I want J to go to the same school as K does because I think she deserves it, and I am willing to risk a comfortable future to make that happen. I think she's smarter than even this school can keep up with, and I am afraid I won't have the energy or follow through to continue to challenge her myself once she's gone all day and I'm working more like full-time. And OH GOD I am going to miss her when she's not here with me all the time. And I know it will be OK.
It will be nice for J avoid the fashion worries that often cripple young ladies, what with the uniforms and all. But I do so miss the days when I could stock her fall wardrobe for under $100 (including shoes, winter coat/snow pants and boots) at Target and Wal Mart.
I guess the whole thing is weighing on me because the clothing is truly a drop in the bucket compared to the school tuition. Over her lifetime, between now and high school graduation, we will spend the equivalent of a townhouse in Paris in tuition. Or at the very least a set silver-plated drool cups and toilet chairs for when I get The Alzheimer's. JBL has let me make this decision for her, and I feel good about it, but still...
Someone recently told me to stop worrying about money. Seriously. Can you believe that?
"What has happened in your life when you've needed money? I mean, have you EVER not had money when you really needed it?"
"No," I replied quietly. I thought of my grandfather helping me with the down-payment on my house, my company helping pay for my graduate degree, and the kind folks at Visa who financed my trip to San Fransisco so I could freak out when I needed to, and pay for it (in more ways than one) at my leisure.
But this is such a huge and long-term commitment, it frightens me. Factored in are the adult responsibility for the here-and-now, the wisdom required to plan for my own future (I'm almost 40 for crying out loud), and the knowledge that my decision affects my partner-in-life as well as my daughter. And believe me, JBL would rather have the house in Paris.
Additionally, this is about second-guessing myself. Did I really make this choice because I think J is 'advanced' - beyond where my local schools could challenge her? Or is it about my need to keep up with the proverbial Jones's? I know she's smart. REALLY smart. But couldn't I just opt for homeschooling, and save all that money? I am fully capable of teaching her, and would in fact get a kick out of it. I know several parents who have chosen this option, and their kids are both socially healthy and academically superior to their peers.
Maybe the stress is about letting go, not about money at all. Someone else will have her ALL DAY. I am paying through the nose to no longer be her everything. She falls down? Someone else holds her while she cries. She has a question about math or reading? Someone else gets to answer her...gets to watch her mind chew on it, and take it all in.
I am sorry this blog is all about my worries, fears and weaknesses, but it really does help to write it all out. Here it is. I am penny wise and pound foolish. I want J to go to the same school as K does because I think she deserves it, and I am willing to risk a comfortable future to make that happen. I think she's smarter than even this school can keep up with, and I am afraid I won't have the energy or follow through to continue to challenge her myself once she's gone all day and I'm working more like full-time. And OH GOD I am going to miss her when she's not here with me all the time. And I know it will be OK.
Monday, August 3, 2009
I shouldn't say this, but...
...watching Law & Order, Criminal Intent. Who's more easily vilified than a highly religious Christian sub-prime lender? Makes me sick.
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