Things I Love Thursdays: Green and Black's Organic Hot Chocolate

I'm keeping it short and sweet today. This hot chocolate mix from Green and Black's (they also make my favorite 85% dark chocolate bar) is delicious. It's just the right amount of sweet, and it dissolved instantly into the milk I heated on the stove. None of the insane whisking I have to do with cocoa powder. I found it at Cost Plus World Market but it's also available on Amazon. If winter is going to insist on sticking around FOREVER, I'm going to keep on drinking hot chocolate!

Things I Love Thursdays: Butternut Squash Wrap

John and I have a tendency to buy produce that looks decent without really having a plan for it. I guess we just get so excited at the prospect of fresh produce (we eat a lot of frozen veggies over here) that our stomachs get ahead of our brains. So when John picked up a butternut squash the other day, I kind of wondered what we were going to make with it, especially since John doesn't eat wheat or sugar. I find the elimination of those two major food groups rather limiting, while John could happily live off of vegetables roasted in oil and garlic powder for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, I have had a major aversion to the smell of roasting anything since getting pregnant, so we've had more than a couple arguments over this subject of late.

Once it was clear my tried-and-true butternut squash recipe (cut it in half, bake it, and stuff it with butter, bread crumbs, and brown sugar - yum!) wasn't going to pass muster, I searched in vain for something that didn't require roasting or include wheat. Naturally, while I was out having a cupcake with Barbara (wheat and sugar - take that!; on a side note, they opened up a gourmet cupcake shop ACROSS THE STREET FROM MY HOUSE two weeks before my move. Nice.), John sent me a recipe to make for dinner that night. And guess what? It involved roasted squash! Argh! But I decided to give it a shot anyway, mostly because I was lazy.

Here's the recipe that inspired our meal. Unfortunately, we didn't have arugula, I didn't have time to roast walnuts, and we're out of red wine vinegar (I don't know where I'm expected to get apple cider over here). So we improvised. Here's what our version ended up like:

1 butternut squash, peeled and cubed
2 tbsp (approx) macadamia nut oil
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp allspice
1/4 tsp cinnamon
salt to taste

Toss all that together and roast on a baking sheet at 400 degrees Fahrenheit (or 204 Celsius if you're not in America) for 15-20 minutes.

Meanwhile...back at the ranch:

1 package of any kind of greens you can get your hands on (we used baby swiss chard)
1/2 can white beans (garbanzos would work too)
chopped raw almonds
olive oil and apple cider vinegar to taste
more salt if you're in our family

Now, John, being John, ate his salad as a salad. Me, being pregnant and finally allowed to eat carbs, wrapped mine up in a flour tortilla. Let me tell you, Sweet Green couldn't have done it better. And best of all, the house didn't stink because the squash only roasted for a little while and we used yummy fall spices instead of garlic. If you feel like mixing it up, you could add cranberries or raisins, feta or blue cheese, and you could easily substitute the squash with pumpkin. If you're one of those fortunate people within 1,000 miles of a head of kale, or fresh spinach, you could use that too. Even romaine would be good. The possibilities are endless!

(Alas, we ate it all before I could take a picture. So you'll just have to take my word for it that it was deeeelicious!)

Whining Wednesdays: How Health Food Ruined My Life

It's been a while since I last complained about John's mistress, Running. Rather a shame, since that was some of my best material. But it seems I've gotten used to the other woman in my life. A four or five hour rendezvous on the weekends doesn't phase me anymore. I dismiss John as he heads off for his forest trysts with a wave of my hand. "Have fun," I say. "Try not to get eaten by wild dogs." Then again, maybe John's just gotten better at hiding his affair. He sneaks off during working hours so I'm none the wiser, or wakes up early to get in a little extra lovin'. Whatevs. I'm over it.

So now, you'd think my life would be that of the carefree wife who knows exactly what her husband is up to and no longer cares. The trouble is, a new mistress has stepped onto the scene. Apparently one wasn't good enough for my man. And this bitch makes Running look like my BFF, if you can believe it. Her name is Health Food, and she's boring, bland, unsatisfying, and crunchy in a "I don't even need to wear deodorant" kind of a way. Even worse, she's decided to stick her nose exactly where it isn't needed or wanted: MY diet. And that, my friends, is a step too far.

The good ol' days.

Some of you know about John's weird food habits. It started with Vespa, his wasp larvae extract that helps him burn fat instead of sugar on long runs (or something). With the Vespa came the high-fat diet, which was all well and good at first. John was baking up a storm! There was butter everywhere, even in John's coffee (if he hasn't told you his "Bulletproof Coffee" schpeal, and you insist on hearing it, can you do me a favor and ask when I'm not within earshot?). If anything, I was annoyed at Miss Fatty always showing up when I was trying to be good. "Leave me alone!" I'd scream. "Can't you see my metabolism isn't what it used to be?" Then she'd pat me on the back with a greasy mitt and offer me a cookie.

At any rate, I got used to constantly smacking away Lardo's sticky fingers, but I wasn't prepared for Health Food. She kind of snuck in slowly in the form of weird supplements: chia seeds, spirulina, fruit-flavored cod liver oil (a personal fave). But whatever, John was still baking, butter was very much a part of my life, and no one had dared mention anything about carbs. And then, one wretched day, John stumbled upon Vinnie Tortorich's podcast and No Sugar, No Grains, and my life has pretty much been ruined ever since.

Mommy is drooling (and weeping) off-camera.

I'm not going to get into the science behind all this crap, mostly because I don't understand it and I don't particularly care to. The bottom line is, sugars and grains are bad for you. And that was news I simply didn't need to hear. Ignorance is bliss, and I have slowly been dragged by my once-loving husband into the fiery pits of knowledge, aka hell.

We spent two weeks in Spain and John wouldn't even look at the gelato, let alone breathe in the yeasty smell of freshly baked bread. If you know John, you know he (and I) used to live for dessert. We literally had dessert every day, sometimes twice a day. It's how we ended our day together - dessert in front of a favorite TV show. John and I were perfectly healthy NORMAL people. We exercised, we didn't eat a lot of processed food, we ran marathons (okay, in my case, marathon). We didn't need Health Food showing up and waggling her bony fingers in our faces, scolding us for the occasional french fry. But that's exactly what she did.

All the stuff I didn't get to eat in Spain.

As the weeks have gone on, more and more foods seem to disappear from John's repertoire. First went the grains of any kind, followed swiftly by added sugars. Since we don't eat meat, that basically limits us to veggies, the occasional fresh fruit (god forbid I nibble on a dried apricot every now and again), nuts, and fish. Even dairy got the ax recently, and John was practically living on sour cream for a while. I managed to ignore all this for a long time. John would glance pointedly at my plate of pasta and I'd whistle innocently and look the other way. Or he'd casually drop in a line about my breakfast of Kashi and milk and how my blood sugar was not going to thank me later. Then, the other day, when I was blithely licking peanut butter from a spoon, he did the unthinkable: he mentioned trans fats, and how I was basically killing myself by consuming my most favorite thing in all the world.

So you know what I did? I decided to prove to him that I didn't have a dependency on sugar and grains, that my lifestyle is a choice and I can take it or leave it at will. For about two weeks now, I've been on this b.s. diet of no sugar, no grains. Granted, I refused to give up cultured dairy, but for the most part, I've stuck to my word. I've been living on nuts (So. Many. Nuts.), the hideous dirt-covered veggies available here in Russia, fish when I can get it (seriously, if I hadn't started eating fish, I wouldn't have the strength to type this right now), fruit when no one is looking, and, for dessert, two squares of dark chocolate at the end of the day. And you know what?

I'M STARVING!!!

Yeah, I admit it, I am a freaking miserable wreck. All I want is a giant baguette covered in butter and maybe even honey, or worse still, jam. I want pasta drowning in alfredo sauce, and I don't even like aldredo sauce. If I never see another cabbage, beet, or carrot, it will be too soon. If someone offers me another dried out, over-cooked, nasty ass piece of salmon, I'm going to shove it down their throat. And I'm sorry, but 95% dark chocolate shouldn't even count as chocolate. But I'm so hungry I savor those two piddly squares a day like they are creme-freaking-brulee. Creme brulee! Someone get me some goddamn creme brulee!

Um, where was I?

Oh yeah, Health Food. John takes offense at me mislabeling his mistress in such a fashion. He prefers Madame Whole Food, presumably, or Ms. NSNG. But call her what you will, there is no room in my life for this nonsense. John promises that when Western States is over in a month or so, Health Food will leave and I'll have my husband back. But I don't buy it. I don't believe he'll go back to baking once a week or that bread will ever make an appearance in this home again. Because he can never un-know the things he knows, and unlike me, he can't live happily ever after with the possibility of inflammation and clogged arteries. Honestly, I don't know what his problem is. It's almost like he's addicted to Health Food or something.

Go figure.

Things I Love Thursdays: Wordy Wallet and Once Again PB

This wallet from Modcloth may be the cutest wallet EVER. I don't need a new wallet. I am perfectly content with the one I have. But this one is so freaking fabulous I'm not sure I can resist. A wallet that looks like a book? Are you kidding me?

I also recently stumbled upon this fabulous peanut butter that may have changed my world completely (okay, that may be a *slight* exaggeration...). It's the American Classic peanut butter from Once Again, and it is the first organic peanut butter that doesn't separate. For reals. It's light and fluffy and deeelicious!

Amazing. And who can resist the raccoon??

Enjoy!

Things I Love Thursdays: Alex Clare's "Too Close" and PB&K Oatmeal

There are two things I love today. First, Alex Clare's song, "Too Close," is awesome and you should check it out if you're not familiar with it.

I'm sure the acoustic version of this song is still amazing, but I LOVE the dubstep beat. I've never heard another song like it. Plus there's a samurai sword fight in the video, and really, you can never go wrong with samurais.

Second is my recent oatmeal discovery, which I'm dubbing PB&K Oatmeal (peanut butter and Kimmy, since she inspired this). Here's what you need:

1/2 cup of Quaker Quick oats
1 cup water
1 tbsp peanut butter
1 tbsp cherry jam
1 dollop of heavy cream (optional, but why wouldn't you?)

Cook the oats according to directions (the recipe above is for one serving; one cup of oats serves two, although Jack usually eats his share AND some of mine). Once you've got your oatmeal in your bowl, stir in the spoonful of peanut butter and jelly, then top with the heavy cream. Voila! A delicious, healthy(ish) breakfast that will keep you full for hours. You could probably use any kind of jam, but Jackie loves to pick out the cherries. You don't need any additional sweetener. And according to John, it's better to eat fat with sugar because it cuts the glycemic index (or something). So pour on the heavy cream and enjoy!

Foreign Service Fridays: Fish Under a Fur Coat

Happy Friday, everyone! And just be grateful you're not having this for dinner.

Kale Chips a la John

Okay guys, I promised I'd be back with our winning kale chip recipe, and here it is! It's as good as the store-bought ones, and SO MUCH cheaper! This recipe is modified from one we found in Food and Wine magazine, because we didn't have all the ingredients on hand. The kale chips can be made in the oven, although we highly recommend a dehydrator (it makes ALL the difference. We got a Nesco one from Amazon for $35). We tried a lot of the recipes that just call for olive oil and salt, but they weren't cutting it for us. These are awesome! The only problem? They're gone in ten minutes. Kudos to you if you can make them last longer!

Ingredients:
1 head of kale, de-stemmed and torn into pieces
1/2 cup almond butter
1/4 cup warm water
3 tbsps extra virgin olive oil
1 tbsp tahini
2 tsps cider vinegar
1 tbsp onion powder
1 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp oregano
1/2 tsp crushed red pepper
1/2 tsp sea salt

Mix all the ingredients (except for the kale and salt) in a bowl or cup and stir until combined. In a large bowl, pour the liquid over the kale and mix thoroughly with your hands until the kale is coated.
Lay out the kale pieces on cookie sheets or on the dehydrator layers, then sprinkle with salt. They take three hours in the dehydrator or two hours in the oven at 200 degrees F.

This is the first time I've written a recipe so let me know if something doesn't make sense! Enjoy!

Hasta Luego, Mexico

Sometimes you spend months and months planning and anticipating an event, fantasizing about it, clinging to it during crappy times like a life preserver, only to be sadly disappointed by the reality when it finally arrives.

But every once in a blue moon, something turns out far better than you could have possibly imagined.

Enter Cancun.

I can't think of a more relaxing or indulgent time in my entire life.  Four days of eating, drinking, sleeping, shopping, and flopping on the beach?  Yes please!  I was worried Cancun couldn't possibly live up to me expectations, but it did me one better: it exceeded them.  Sitting here at my computer in the basement, it's hard to believe that it wasn't all a dream...

En route to Mexico, before the sh*t hit the fan.

Sarah, Lauren, and I were pumped.  By 7:30 am on Tuesday morning we were heading out to board our plane to Charlotte.  Sure, it was raining, but nothing could spoil our day!  We were going to Cancun, baby!  We settled down in our seats, took out our fashion magazines, and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  To make a long story short, our plane broke.  We watched in horror as the minutes ticked by, our two hour layover slowly dwindling before our eyes.  Pretty soon, it became clear we weren't going to make our next flight.  Our only hope was to find another flight that would get us to Cancun TODAY.  The hotel was already paid for, Kimmy was flying solo, and I would be damned if I was losing an entire day of freedom.

Sarah eventually managed to get us all booked on a flight to Chicago, followed by a four-hour layover, and finally on a flight to Cancun that landed at 9:00 pm.  We lost almost an entire day of fun, but we made it to Mexico, and that was all that mattered.  We found Kim at the hotel, walked across the street to the mall, and looked for a restaurant.  Our options were endless, as long as we didn't want actual Mexican food.  Johnny Rockets didn't seem appropriate and we weren't in the mood for Italian, so we found the closest thing we could to the real deal: Chili's.  Let me tell you, those chips and salsa never tasted so good.  The margaritas helped immensely.

You know what also helped immensely?  Waking up to this:

The view from our balcony.

After gorging ourselves on the breakfast buffet, we headed down to the beach.  We pretty much didn't do a damn thing that first day, other than eat, shop, and play in the ocean.  It was phenomenal.  Later that night we had an AMAZING authentic Mexican dinner at La Distilleria.  If you go to Cancun, go there.  They have fried cheese covered in potato chips.  That's pretty much all you need to know.

The water really is that blue.

The next day we decided to do something semi-cultural (I use that word loosely) and took a ferry out to Isla Mujeres, for more shopping and eating.  We had over four hours to kill, so we did the only sensible thing: ate, drank, and took tons of pictures of ourselves.

Note the coaster stuck to my drink.  I was too happy to notice.

We had a lot of fun with this here doorway. 

You say, "Jump!" I say, "How high?"

 Eventually we found a lovely little cafe and had a cold Coca Lite before getting back on the ferry.

 

 

When we hit the mainland, we walked past a bungee jumping center.  "Come on ladies!" the vendor  yelled.  "It's gonna happen!"

Of course, it absolutely wasn't gonna happen: we're talking a fifty-foot tall rickety wooden tower over about five feet of water.  But I admired his tenacity.  Until he asked if we were from Louisiana.  Seriously?  He finally guessed California and I forgave him.  But bungee jumping still wasn't gonna happen.

That night we decided to go to a club.  We just had no idea which one.  Fortunately, our towel boy came up with the perfect solution.  "Go to Coco Bongo," he said.  He seemed pretty serious about it.  So we went.

Coco Bongo was the single most bizarre experience of my life.  It's one part night club, one part Vegas show, one part Cirque de Soleil, and eight parts insane.  I know that's a lot of parts.  You just have to take my word for it.  We somehow ended up in some kind of VIP section, which was great in that it separated us from the riffraff.  Unfortunately, it meant we showed up on the big screen at least a dozen times.  Dancing in public is not my favorite.  Seeing my ass on a giant screen in front of a thousand people is right up there in "worst nightmare" territory.  Fortunately, I was distracted by the spectacle of a Mexican Freddie Mercury, a pervy Beetle Juice, and a loincloth-clad Jesus on a cross made of curtains.

There are no words.

The next morning Lauren and I went for a walk on the beach.  It was sublime.  I seriously didn't want our vacation to end.  Yes, I missed my boys terribly, but I would have been happy to have them fly down to Cancun and live with me in the Westin.  You'd think refried beans, fresh tortillas, queso, and giant tubs of guacamole would get old after a while, but they didn't.  Neither did being called "your highness," "beauty," and "princess" by the hotel staff.

Ah, memories.  I shall always look back on this photo and smile.  Or weep.

I can still feel the warm breeze, the cool ocean, the guacamole in my belly and the saltwater in my hair.  It's going to be hard to readjust to reality, but I'm looking forward to seeing my boys again tonight, to getting back into my writing, and to gazing fondly at the photos we took this week for years to come. 

And so I say to Mexico: "Hasta luego, amigo."  Until later, my friend.  Because I will be back.  Oh yes, I will be back.

They Came. They Saw. They Shopped.

Last Thursday my mom and her good friend Deborah flew into D.C. for a visit.  I knew there would be shopping involved because my mom is a champion shopper, Sarah is her protege, and Deborah puts them both to shame, but I was not prepared for the shopping tsunami that was headed my direction.  What is one to do when a giant tidal wave of consumerism is headed her way?  Head for the hills?  Build an ark?  In the end, there really is only one answer.

Grab a life preserver and hang on for dear life.

I tried to keep up with them, I really did.  And at first I thought it might not be so bad.  Our intentions were so pure on Friday morning as we headed to the National Portrait Gallery and the Building Museum.  But after twenty minutes of letting Jack flop in the lobby of the Building Museum, Sarah's eye landed (quite by accident, I'm sure) on a giant sign that read URBAN OUTFITTERS.  Urban Outfitters is Sarah's Mecca.  She makes a pilgrimage there at least once a week.  She was due for a fix.  And besides, the National Portrait Gallery wasn't open yet, so we had some time to kill.  It wasn't exactly difficult to convince my mom and Deborah (or myself, if I'm being honest) that this was the perfect place to bide our time.  It was all downhill from there.

After we parted company with John (who I'm ashamed to say got caught up in the whole thing and actually purchased something himself), we managed to get back on the wagon and head to the Portrait Gallery.  Of course, by then we were hungry from all our shopping, so we sat down at the cafe for a quick snack.  An hour later, we finally forced ourselves to look around.  There was a folk art exhibit that my mom thought sounded interesting, so off we went.  Within five minutes Deborah had made a new friend, a security guard who had apparently been to heaven before and assured her that the gold there looked quite different from the gold tin foil covering a piece of art.

An example of what it DOESN'T look like in heaven.

He then moved on to a giant paper mache sheep (I'm a big fan of folk art, let me tell you) and asked if he could have a sheep as a pet.  My mom and Deborah mulled that one over for a moment before Deborah replied, "I guess so.  If you're zoned for it."
"Could I have it in my house?" the man asked.
"I'm not sure you'd want to," my mom said.
"But could I, like, hug it?"

On that note, we hightailed it out of there and we went where we'd really wanted to go all along: the gift shop.

A true work of art.  And you can pet it.

On Saturday we headed to the zoo.  We saw the orangutans (and learned all about regurgitation and re-ingestion, a super fun subject), the sea otters, the elephants, and the small mammals.  Jack enjoyed watching the otters make a nest in a hollow log.  True, he thought the otter statues were mice, but if it makes the kid happy, who am I to correct him?

"Mouse!"

In the small mammal hall, Jack was delighted by the golden lion tamarins, mostly because he thought they were Minky.  Now you might be starting to think Jack has a hard time differentiating his mammals, but in this case, he may be on to something.  I'll let you be the judge. 

Later that afternoon, post-lunch at Lauriol Plaza, we did the only logical thing: we shopped.  There are a handful of great boutiques and furniture stores on U Street.  I think we saw them all.  The biggest hits were Legendary Beast for vintage jewelry and the new vintage furniture store Foundry.  By the time I drove home that night I didn't care if I ever saw another Pendleton jumper or rhinestone necklace again in my life.

It's amazing what a good night's sleep can do.

On Sunday we had brunch in Old Town and took Minky to the dog park near the river.  Jack had a wonderful time chasing Minky around. However, when Minky dared approach another small child, Jack was less than thrilled.

"MINE!"

After the dog park, we shopped at the enormous and amazing accessory boutique, Lou Lou's, then hit up LNRB's Stella and Dot party, because clearly we hadn't done enough jewelry shopping in the past three days.  After that, we headed for Georgetown for yet MORE shopping.  I think I hit my shopping wall somewhere during those following three hours.  Anthropologie lost its luster.  Madewell made me want to cry.  Even a cupcake from Baked and Wired couldn't revive me.  When I went home that night I was ready to collapse.  Monday loomed before me like a wall of bad pleather accessories.  I prayed for a miracle.

Fortunately, even my mom was starting to show signs of wear and tear on Monday, and we agreed to go to Gadsby's Tavern for their toddler play time.  I kind of love how in Old Town they have a play group in the same place where our founding fathers used to drink beer.  It was seven dollars for a group of three, which worked out perfectly, since Deborah was determined to press ever onward in her quest for shopping glory.  Jack had a good time reading with Grandma.

Jack was also invited to participate in crafts or play in a tunnel, but his tastes have always been unconventional.  For example, this keyhole proved to be highly entertaining, until we were told not to touch it.

Gee, you'd think it was a historic landmark or something.

After Jack's nap, I picked the ladies up in Old Town, which required visiting one last boutique, and then we went to see Footloose with Sarah.  I later found out that she went to Urban Outfitters after the movie let out around 9:30.  It's a disease, people.  Fortunately, it doesn't appear to be catching.

On our final day, Tuesday, I dropped Jack off at preschool (no tears!) and I took my mom and Deborah into D.C. so we could tour National Geographic and grab lunch with some friends.  I left the ladies to fend for themselves for the afternoon, and they actually chose to do something cultural: the Holocaust Museum (which I'm ashamed to say I haven't seen yet).  They said it was really amazing and I think even Deborah was happy for the brief respite.  John made a fabulous farewell dinner, and we culminated the visit with a bottle of Cakebread Chardonnay and a pumpkin mascarpone pie that somehow only lasted two nights (a real shock in this house).

Seeing my mom was so wonderful.  I'm thankful to Deborah for flying out here with her (the visit might never have happened otherwise) and for both of their generosity while they were here.  I made out like a bandit, let me tell you.  Of course, now that Mom and Deborah are back in their respective homes, I'm starting to feel a little down.  It's hard not having family around, especially when you have a kid.  Jack had the best time playing with his Grab-a and I loved catching up with my mom and Deborah.  We always seem to have the most fun when we're all together.  I love you both!

And you know, it's the darndest thing, but I suddenly have this strange hankering to go shopping...

Weekend Getaway: Norfolk

This past holiday weekend, I learned a few things.

First: Norfolk?  Not half bad!  It's the new home of our dear friends Dave and Meredith, and their little guy Soren.  It's hard to believe it's been a year since we had the boys together.

Two pumpkins straight from the patch.

The boys in the bath one year ago.  The tub was slightly more crowded this time around.

Besides being home to some of our favorite peeps, Norfolk also has an awesome zoo, truly impressive botanical gardens, and surprisingly good cuisine.  Any town with a bagel shop featuring tempeh bacon is alright in my book.  There's something to be said for not living directly outside of a major city.  Dave and Meredith have a house that is literally five times the size of ours.  It's RIDICULOUS.  I think I may have said that like nineteen times over the weekend.  Four bedrooms and an office, three and a half baths, original details like coal-burning fireplaces and ceiling medallions, and a kitchen that John is seriously coveting.  It's pretty awesome when two families of three can all sleep under the same roof and not feel even remotely crowded.

Save a horse; ride a rhino.

This was not easy to achieve.  But I think the results speak for themselves.

The second thing I learned is that I might be a wee bit of a control freak when it comes to Jack.  I already knew I was a neat freak, but apparently it's worse than I thought.  I think Meredith nearly died when I whipped out Jack's full-torso smock for mealtime.  I mean, is it wrong not to want to change Jack's outfit three times a day?  And sure, I may have used the hand sanitizer about eight times at the petting zoo, but it was a veritable petri dish up in there.
Jack is also capable of so much more than I give him credit for.  Apparently he CAN ride a tricycle and climb a rope net.  He knew how to play basketball without me showing him (not that he could reach the net, but he tried).  He knows how to share.  By the end of the trip I felt like Marlin from Finding Nemo: "You think you can do these things but you can't, Nemo!"  Actually, he can.  He doesn't have a gimpy fin.  He's a pretty capable little guy.  This weekend I learned to stand back and let him try, even if it scares the stuffing out of me.

I was worried about finger crushage, but Dave wisely pointed out that would probably be a big deterrent at a Children's Garden.

Requisite photo of Jack with animal statuary.

Soren gets to raking while Jack greets visitors.  They're totally ready for their own place.

And thirdly, I learned that if you're going to a petting zoo, wear shoes without a lot of tread.
Otherwise you'll find yourself cleaning goat feces out of your toddler's Converse with a Q-tip.  It's not pretty.  Trust me on this one.

And here I'm thinking, "Please don't eat my child's finger."

Jack offers a single blade of grass to the goat.  The sentiment was sweet, but sadly unappreciated.

Never one to be deterred, Jack goes in for a kiss.  Note the lovely chip o' sh*t that later ended up in Jack's shoe.

Thanks to Dave, Meredith, and Soren for a lovely weekend!  We can't wait to visit again soon!  

You Need This. Now.

Run, don't walk, to your nearest Trader Joe's and pick up this ridiculously delicious bar of chocolate.  I don't even like dark chocolate and it was amazing.  Salty, sweet, melty goodness, all in a beautiful package, I might add.  The Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Bar (Caramel with Black Sea Salt) may be my new obsession.

Ahoy, mateys! It's awesome, in a box.

But just in case you're worried that I've abandoned the other love of my life, The Majestic's coconut cake, fear not.  I had some of that on Saturday night.  When it comes to dessert, I get around.

Don't worry, lover - there's room for both of you in my life.  Er, stomach.

Foodaholics Anonymous

I've been thinking about doing a post on Jack's eating habits for a while now.  Originally, I was planning on focusing on his gusto for all things edible, and of course his delicious chubbiness.  But darnit if the child isn't starting to slim down.  Don't get me wrong, the toddler belly is still in full effect, and his thighs still sport their characteristic crease.  But beneath his layers of adipose tissue I'm beginning to see - dare I say it? - muscle.  Before, Jack was positively Rubenesque; he had the physique of a potsticker, all smooth and doughy.  I fear it won't be long before Jack loses his toddler fat all together and starts to resemble something slightly less Jabba the Hut and slightly more human.  Sigh.

The day those thighs stop touching will be a sad day indeed...

Despite the fact that Jack may be slimming down, his appetite is just as healthy as ever.  Unlike his parents, who have been known to devour their dinner in five minutes, Jack knows how to savor a meal.  He somehow manages to cram fistfuls of food into his mouth while simultaneously dragging out a meal for thirty minutes.  Each bite is accompanied by a hearty "Mmmm!"  Often he'll pause to contemplate his food before tasting it, marveling at the juiciness of a slice of peach or the curious shape of a pasta spiral, as if he wants to memorize it for future reference.  Either that, or he's just imagining how delicious it will taste before shoving it in his craw.

The Stages of Food Addiction:

Stage 1:  Anger

Stage 2: Denial

Stage 3: Uneasy Acceptance

Stage 4: "Hi.  I'm Jack, and I'm a Foodaholic."

Jack's appreciation for fine cuisine has only increased of late.  A true gourmand, he rarely meets a food he doesn't like, and he's willing to try just about anything.  Sometimes this is charming.  Sometimes, like when I'm trying to eat my eggplant parmesan in peace, for example, it's just freaking annoying.  I realize I'm lucky not to have a picky eater on my hands, but there are times when I wish I only had to choose between macaroni, fish sticks, or chicken fingers for dinner, instead of the whole of the culinary universe.

Jack double fisting his breakfast.

And then there's the fact that my own diet has taken second fiddle to my child's.  Yesterday, as I was preparing Jack's breakfast of scrambled egg with olive oil and truffle salt with a side of fresh blackberries, and later, as I poured myself a bowl of peanut butter puffs eaten standing up, I had to wonder what the hell has happened to my life.  I know I'm not the only parent who is so focused on her child's nutrition that she is completely neglecting her own.  Yesterday Jack ate fresh green apple slices and cheddar cheese for snack and penne with homemade pesto and kalamata olives for lunch.  It wasn't until three p.m., after I'd finished writing and worked out, that I snarfed down an instant mac n' cheese packet in record time because Jack was waking up from his nap.  This is no way to live, people!  If it weren't for my daily vitamin, I shudder to think what my iron and calcium levels would be.

Of course it's not all bad.  That penne was leftover from dinner the night before, and John and I eat plenty of fresh veggies with dinner.  But when I'm on my own during the day, and I've got a mini Mario Batali clutching to my legs and begging for "moin" ("more" in Jackanese), the truth is I tend to put my own nutrition second and focus on my butterball.  After all, who knows how much longer he'll be around.

The OTHER Washington

We got back from our trip to Washington two days ago, and I'm still recovering.

Actually, it was a great trip and we had a wonderful time.  But man, was it busy.  After our two very long flights (the extra seat for Jack was a lifesaver; totally worth the money my parents paid for it), we had a two-hour drive to Manzanita, a little town on the coast, where my parents had rented a house.  My sister Elizabeth, her husband Pierre, my niece Julia, and my nephew Alex, were all there waiting for us, along with Roscoe, my parents' dog.  We had dinner and I got a chance to catch up with Elizabeth, who is an aspiring author as well.  We have a lot in common and I wished we'd had more time to catch up, but she and the rest of her family left the next morning for a camping trip (still waiting to hear how that turned out!).

Jack and Roscoe enjoy Sesame Street together.

On Thursday we went to the beach, which was freezing cold, but beautiful.  We had to camp out between some sand dunes because it was really windy, but Jack loved playing in the sand and I collected some lovely black stones (there was no sea glass to be had, unfortunately).

Manzanita beach

That night my mom and dad stayed with Jack so John and I could go to dinner.  We went to an adorable little restaurant in Cannon Beach called Newman's, which had about ten tables and really excellent food.  At the end of the meal, the waitress handed me an envelope with our name on it (my parents had kindly picked up the tab for us), and I opened it and exclaimed, "It's from Chris Harrison!  If we choose to forgo our individual rooms..."

The waitress thought it was funny, anyway.

Adorable house that I want.

On Friday John and I drove in to Portland to return our rental car and grab some lunch.  John, the intrepid Yelper, found a place called PBJ's that serves nothing but peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  Yum!  I really love Portland - what a great vibe, and just the right size for a city I think.  I would live there in a heartbeat.  Alas, I'm pretty sure there's no embassy in Portland.  Drats.
My parents picked us up at the airport and we grabbed dinner at a Mexican restaurant in Longview.  I was very excited when I saw the sign above the door that promised us a Mexican fiesta with real sand, but alas, that wasn't until the following weekend.  Jack enjoyed his cup of salsa and platter of beans, and I enjoyed a much-needed margarita.

Grandpa and Jack at the park (wearing his awesome Red Dog Photo Blog shirt - thanks Mark!)

Saturday morning we grabbed some breakfast and my mom dropped me off at the Amtrak station.  I got to spend two and a half glorious hours alone on a train, and I'm proud to say I got to page 140 of my book while I was away, thanks to the train rides (and the fact that John sat next to Jack on the plane).  I arrived in Seattle to the smiling faces of some of my best and oldest friends: Shauna, the bride-to-be, Sara, and Kathryn, all Foxfield buddies from junior high through high school and beyond.  We had some time to catch up at Shauna's house and a couple of wineries before we checked into a hotel to get ready for our evening of bachelorette debauchery.

I have never felt older in my life.

We had a really good time, actually, going out to dinner, then making our way to three different clubs.  I didn't drink much, mostly because I'm not twenty-two anymore and also because I knew I had to get up in the morning to catch my train back.  And while I loved seeing my friends, meeting most of the bridesmaids (who I will see again in a few weeks at Shauna's wedding!!), being told by a random guy that Sara, Kathryn, and I "totes" need to dance more, and sharing a hotel room with six drunk girls and a giant inflatable penis, I was sort of relieved to be back with my family.  I just can't party like I used to (and we all know how wild I was back in the day).

Grandma, Jack, and a bronze dog.

When I got back to Kelso we went to my mom's barn so I could meet her new horse, Maestro.  He is absolutely adorable and I hope I get to ride him some day (preferably when I've had more than five hours of sleep).  I even got to say hi to Timmy, my mom's giant-ass warhorse, who was happy enough to see me until I was petting his head and he touched the electric fence with his nose, giving us both a jolt I could have done without.  Neither of us was very happy after that.

"Cooterville," on the way to Manzanita.  I "totes" would have gone in this place with Sarah.

And then, as vacations must, it came to an end.  We left on Monday morning and got home around eleven p.m.  It was a whirlwind, but it was wonderful.  I quite like the other Washington.

Thanks Grandma and Grandpa, we had a blast!

Can I have a bronze cocker spaniel?  Pleeeeeease?