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Digital Sausages

2008-07-03T17:18:00Z

There’s a digital clock at the top of our stove. Each number is made up of digital sausage links. They’re curveless and rigid but they do the job. Twos look like backwards fives, threes like eights without Western borders.

When we first moved in, the stove was brand new and so the clock was as well. It worked well. Each sausage did its job. Together, they made up numbers.

About two years ago, our oven just stopped working. For no reason, just stopped working one day. I turned it on to 400 degrees gleefully anticipating a homemade pizza, and a half hour later it was still cold. We did what all renters do, we called our landlord.

When the repairman arrived, he sold our landlord on a warranty. Included in that warranty was the clock, which had had recently lost the top digital sausage making up the second number. I remember when it happened too. I remember trying to figure out why it was so dark at 4 PM.

The repairman didn’t have the parts to repair the clock. “You’ll have to schedule another visit. But you should know that you have a warranty. The clock’s included.” He said. “The light, too.”

Due to my Easy Bake Oven and Shrinky Dink days, and the fact that I really enjoy watching things cook, change, grow, shrink, melt, move, and brown like old paper, the light burned out a few months after we moved in.

It’s been dark ever since.

We’re outgrowing our apartment. And for the life of me, I cannot figure out who is buying up all the real estate in our neighborhood, who can afford to. I have asked a few people and no one ever really gives me a straight answer. I’m still asking.

Who is buying up all these condos and houses?

I’m still very much in the dark waiting for an answer.

But it was only recently that I began to realize that we actually have to leave here, that it’s not really a choice anymore. It’s becoming a necessity. We don’t have the room here for a toddler. And it’s not safe.

But I think the most telling moment, the second I realized that we simply had to leave, was right around the time my son turned 9 months old and we watched him touch green grass for the very first time.

I said to Tobyjoe, “Do you realize this is the first time Em has touched grass?”

Neither one of us said another word.

Truthfully, I have no idea how to make this work. As much as I want to, as much as I’d like to, as much as we should be able to, we have no way of making this work. And up until recently, I haven’t been willing to accept that fact.

The clock on our stove has become a failure at its only function. We don’t even try and guess what time it is anymore. And at some point during the last two years, three more digital sausages burned out. I always thought I might catch one of the sausage’s final, parting moments. But other than that minor amusement, it’s been useless for a while.

What good is a clock that can’t tell time? What good is a clock that’s slowly dimming over time—quite literally?

Last night I was baking a homemade pizza when I paid our barely functioning clock a brief glance. I noticed that yet another link had gone dark. And with a chuckle it occurred to me that I may have had its function wrong all along. Perhaps it’s not there to tell us what time it is at all, or, at least not in the usual sense. Perhaps it’s letting us know in its own special way—through the dimming and eventual darkness of individual digital sausages—how much time we have left.

The The Books.

2008-07-02T14:15:00Z

I just finished The Girls (thank you, Fran!) and The Road. Both were fantastic. The Road is probably one of the best books I’ve ever read. It will haunt me until I’m dead and gone (or I become a babbling old person with a deteriorating memory). It was filled with such nightmarish imagery! It’s downright terrifying and beautiful, horrific and sublime. If you haven’t read it, I suggest picking it up immediately, and do so before the movie is released. (Viggo Mortensen has been cast as the lead man. I’m not sure how I feel about that yet, but judging by what other women say, I gather he’ll bring some horny chicks and gay dudes to the box office.)

I could go on and on about this book and would very much like to, but that’ll ruin it for everyone else. The Road makes me wish Spread had made it. (Side note: I had such high hopes for that site. Yet another failed mihow project. I enjoy hating myself for online failures, which is why I’ve become so good at creating them.)

Anyway, I need a new book to read now. Maybe I should keep with the “The” theme I’ve got going. heh

Won’t you please help me (again)?

Vegan (Coconut) Ice Cream

2008-07-02T00:25:00Z

A few of you have emailed me asking about the vegan ice cream recipe I have. Tonight I’m giving vegan coconut ice cream a try. (The batter is currently chilling in the freezer.) I have high hopes for it, but who knows how it’ll turn out. Anyway, here’s the recipe I used:

5 cups coconut milk, canned

2 tablespoons agar agar flakes

1/8 teaspoon sea salt

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon coconut extract

1 cup maple syrup

Method:

1). In saucepan, combine coconut milk, agar flakes and sea salt. Whisk. Bring to simmer and cook slowly until agar is dissolved completely. (20-30 minutes)

2). Remove from heat and stir in vanilla, coconut extract and maple syrup. Whisk. Pour into shallow pan and cool until firm. (I’m using a shallow Pyrex.)

3). Add mixture to ice cream machine and churn until firm.

Please note! I cut the above recipe in half because I didn’t have enough coconut milk. I know with baking, things can go horribly wrong if you cut recipes in half. I’ll let you know how my amendment turns out. I’ll most likely update later assuming I have Internet access. (Time Warner is STILL out over here.)

EDITED TO ADD:

The ice cream turned out wonderfully! It has a great, creamy consistency and scooped nicely. Em and Tobyjoe both ate it up. I put a few chocolate chips on top and voila!

Let me know if you have any questions and/or suggestions.

We're Back. Sort Of.

2008-07-01T14:50:00Z

Time Warner cable is out AGAIN. It’s been out since we returned home, no telling how long it was out before that. I’m wondering if this is a Brooklynwide outage or if we’re just really that unlucky. Either way, I am hijacking a neighbor’s wireless and it’s spotty. I’m here, the trip went well, and I’ll write more whenever I have some (real) Internet access again. TWM may have to wait until next week.

In the meantime, check out this hilarious picture taken of Em while we were in our hotel room. That’s what happens in our house whenever you take away the firewire cord or the guitar tuner or (in this case) the Nikon memory card reader.

iTrips and iScream.

2008-06-25T12:55:00Z

We’re leaving for Boston this evening. I want to leave at night—at a time Em is normally sleeping—so he doesn’t realize he’s uncomfortable. I really don’t like driving at night. But I dislike traffic even more. And I loathe driving in traffic with Em in the car. One time, it took us over two hours to get from Maplewood, New Jersey to our apartment in Brooklyn. The actual distance is 27 miles, give or take a few. It was an awful trip, especially for Tobyjoe who sits in back with Em because he faces the rear of the car.

Incidentally, when can I turn the car seat around? I know that they say a child must be at least a year old, 30 inches long, and weight 20 pounds. He’s met all of those requirements except for the year old part. Why a year? Why does one have to wait a year to turn the car seat around? Traveling would feel much easier if I could see the little guy. We have one of those mirrors, but it doesn’t work in our car. It’s main function is to dangle from the window so that Em can occasionally flirt with himself.

I’m looking forward to taking him to Boston. I’m not sure what we’ll do there. I have read it’s a much more family friendly city, so perhaps I’ll find some family things to do. The funny thing about that statement is, I don’t know what “family things” are. Pizza parlors? Zoos? Bowling alleys? He’s far too young to appreciate all that. Puppet shows seem to appeal to him. And he loves other babies. Perhaps we’ll crash a daycare.

It’ll be wicked cool.

I am writing this post fueled with excitement. My Kitchenaid ice cream making attachment arrives via UPS today. (Along with 50 bucks worth of agar agar, obviously a massive mistake made on my part that Tobyjoe will probably NEVER let me live down. At this rate, we’ll have vegan ice cream until we’re peeing in our own britches.) I took an ice cream making class on Monday over at The Brooklyn Kitchen where I learned how to make scrumptious ice cream from scratch. The chef taught us how to make milks, ice cream, frozen yogurt, and vegan ice cream.

And I ate her ice cream. I ate it right up.

Last night I cooked up some vanilla ice cream batter. It’s been in the fridge (soon to be the freezer) ever since. It’s ridiculous how excited I am about making ice cream. And if it turns out well, Em will have his first taste of the creamy goodness today.

I made another deal with myself, one I know I can’t keep. If our evenings and windows continue to be pierced by the sound of a warped ice cream truck jingle, instead of buying Em a popsicle, I’ll offer him fresh ice cream instead. I’ll have batter ready to go. And If he still wants ice cream from the Good Humor guy, I’ll give the kid a buck or two and eat the rest myself.

I’ll eat it right up.

Leave it to self-defeating me to make a deal and try and keep up with Brooklyn ice cream trucks.

I anticipate failure.

Em walked last night, like actually walked. He thought about it, realized he could do it, and then freaking walked. And both his parents shrieked like monkeys. Any droppers of eaves would have surely guessed a lottery had been won. But no cash prizes were attained. Instead, our son walked, over and over again, stumbling gleefully.

He’ll take about four steps each time. I imagine he’d go further, but our apartment is only so wide. He plops down the moment he reaches our bait, his goal (which was a plastic spatula last night and this morning but will hopefully be ice cream in few hours).

We tried to get a video. It’s difficult taking video of Em because he much prefers playing with the iFlip than any other object we use to entice him. Of course, it doesn’t help that the makers of iFlip put a groovy red light on its front letting everyone know, “HEY! I’M RECORDING!” whenever it’s on. He loves the red light. He loves bashing my iFlip onto the floor. He loves making movies with it, which consist of 90% blackness and can easily make a person sick within the first minute or two.

Anyway, this is the best I could do this morning.

In no time at all, he’ll be chasing ice cream trucks all over Brooklyn.

June 24, 2008. 7:13 PM

2008-06-25T00:12:00Z

My kid walked.

Tuesdays With Murray (Chapter 50)

2008-06-24T11:39:00Z

I simply couldn’t resist. This video was taken yesterday. I hope it cheers someone up out there!

They really, really like playing together. This went on for a while yesterday and I just stood there, smiling.

Also, sorry about yesterday’s cryptic and grumpy post. I was having a “throw your hands up” sort of day. Today looks much better.

I’ll be doing quite a bit of traveling starting Thursday (with the baby) and I think that has me sort of nervous and excited. I’ll try and update here, but I will most likely use Twitter a bunch. Either way, I’ll be back next week armed with stories from a rocky coast.

A Break.

2008-06-23T14:15:00Z

I think I’m going to take a week or two off from writing (or trying to write) on here. I have roughly 4 half-written posts, one of which I accidentally pushed live last week for at least an hour, maybe longer.

There’s just too much going on right now, too much uncertainty and change.

I will be back soon, as will Murray. In the meantime, I’ll be updating here using 140 characters or less, which is just about all I have time for these days.

See you soon!

Brooklyn Parents and Friends:

2008-06-21T19:14:00Z

I know this is a long shot, but if anyone out there wants to get together to watch the game tomorrow, hit me up with an email. I know this is totally last minute.

Nevertheless, TJ and I are looking to get a group together to watch the Spain Vs. Italy game. It’d be great to find somewhere out and about but I gather most places that are showing it are likely rowdy, packed bars. But a gal can dream, right? (It’s times like this where I wish we lived in the suburbs.)

I think that particular match is going to be awesome. GO SPAIN!

Humbled Yet Proud.

2008-06-19T16:08:00Z

I woke up this morning and discovered Toby couldn’t move. His back had given out. He spent the better half of the morning hunched over the table, pale as a corpse, groaning into his bowl of uneaten cereal. He spent the hour before that fighting nausea while perched over a toilet bowl.

I had to hit the ground running. I made Em breakfast while he played in his closed, safe quarters. When I turned around to put him into his highchair, I discovered he had been playing in cat vomit.

“It’s organic.” I thought and washed his hands.

I left the apartment at 8:30 first making sure my husband wasn’t going to die. I left him lying flat on his back, still pale and unmoved, groaning. I told him to cancel work and our reservations for tonight. He was in no position to move. Of course, he refused.

I headed to McCarren Park to meet the other mothers for a weekly workout. This was my fourth session. I had missed it all last week. I wasn’t going to miss it again. Plus, I want Em to hang out with other kids. He must get tired of looking at me all the time. I know that I do.

Five of us showed up today, plus our trainer. It was hot but that didn’t stop us. We did push-ups, pull-ups, lunges, and tummy work. We jogged and talked, all the while exchanging stories about motherhood.

I’m not one for all-gal groups or groups for that matter. I haven’t ever been one for all-gal groups. (Except for soccer!) There’s a reason we gave up two R.E.M. tickets in order to have a quiet dinner out instead. That’s why I don’t go to BlogHer; I know I’ll clam up, expose a less than attractive side of myself, a side I have grown to despise but am forced to live with.

But this all-gal group feels different. I’m feel comfortable with the women who attend these weekly workouts. I enjoy hearing them talk. I can’t put my finger on why they’re different from, say, the women I met in the park a few weeks ago. But they are. They’re very different. Perhaps coupling group meetings with physical activity allows for more easygoing conversations?

I don’t know.

But I feel positively wonderful right now. Sure, I’m lightheaded from having only consumed one of my 21 allotted WeightWatchers points for the day. (Did I just write that?) But I feel great.

(Why?)

I had not one, but three adult conversations and all of them took place before 10 AM. I had them with other mothers. And I let myself relax while doing so.

(Maybe I’m different?)

I know I probably don’t say this enough, especially on here, but I have a really great life. I have a caring husband whom I trust and love with all my heart. I have a son who makes my heart ache and whose smile and eyes I discover for the first time every day of my life. I have a family that is hilarious and weird and I feel very close to them even if some of them moved all the way to China.

I’m a mother. And sometimes it’s not easy. Sometimes it’s downright lonely. Sometimes I want to sob into my hands and feel sorry for myself. Sometimes I leave the house, both shoulders draped in baby vomit but I wear both stains like war medallions—motherhood medallions of war.

All I know is this: today, I feel happy and hopeful. I love that I found at least five other mothers willing to laugh out loud—in public—because someone else just nonchalantly admitted that they caught their daughter digging through (and sampling!) their rabbit’s litter box.

Humility and motherhood go hand-in-hand. And I think we’d be a whole hell of a lot happier, mothers of the world, if we’d just admit it.

Finding Comfort

2008-06-18T17:55:00Z

It’s been a while. I have no excuse. The sounds you hear are of Em in the background playing with Tupperware, his new favorite toy.

(This is video for a series called Stories For My Son.)

Below is a video showing how Em uses the orange pillow, which is precisely how he acted with the woman from the story above.

Where Should We Eat?

2008-06-18T16:00:00Z

We have reservations at Gramercy Tavern tomorrow for 7 PM. But we just found out that we can get in to Le Bernardin tomorrow at 8 PM. (Toby knows people and those people pulled some strings for us.)

So, if you’re reading this and you’ve been to either, or you know anything about either restaurant, please help us decide.

We so rarely get to go out these days alone. I’d like to make the very best of it.

(Email me if you can suggest either.)

Tuesdays With Murray (Chapter 49)

2008-06-18T00:57:00Z

Toby and I hired a maid. We made the appointment two weeks ago. She was to begin Monday.

On Saturday night I began to freak out about the logistics. (How would she get in the house? Were we supposed to leave? Did she need to use our supplies? If we left the house, how would she lock up? Am I supposed to tip her? Does she do laundry? Am I supposed to tidy up the house first? What if she’s allergic to cats? Oh my crap! Murray!)

I voiced my concerns to Toby starting with the more reasonable.

“Do we stay here while she’s cleaning?”

“We don’t have to.”

“Do we need to move things around so she can get to certain areas? Does she do the closets?”

“I’m not sure. We’ll have to ask.”

Realizing that he wasn’t going to suggest that we cancel, I dove right in.

“What about Murray?”

“What about him?”

“What will we do with Murray?”

“Nothing. He’ll probably eat her.”

“Well, what if she uses poisonous cleaning supplies? I think we should cancel. I’ll clean instead.”

“Whatever you want.” He rolled his eyes.

On Sunday I canceled the arrangement and asked Toby to keep an eye on Em so I could clean up. I started with the counters and the stove and worked my way down. Just as I began to mop the kitchen floor, I was attacked.

Murray leapt into the air—all four feet off the floor, arms spread wide, eyes wider—and bear-hugged the mop with all his might, deploying a move we liked to call “The Grizzly Bear”.

The mop gave way beneath his weight. As his hind legs touched the floor again, he slid full force into the mop bucket, spilling water everywhere. Unsure of how to regain his composure on the slick surface, he tried running, which sent him sliding all over the linoleum surface.

I looked down at the wet, hairy mess. The kitchen was dirtier than it had been before I started.

“See!” I said from the kitchen. “This is why we can’t hire a stranger to come clean our house!”

It's Crazy What I Could've Had

2008-06-16T17:04:00Z

I wandered around Manhattan (for the first time since Em was born) with my dear friend Nico on Saturday. We had lunch outside at a café near Union Square and shopped until near exhaustion. (It was damn hot.) I got home just in time to watch the sky attack Brooklyn for several hours; the thunderstorms were awesome.

Unfortunately, due to uncertainty about where we’ll be living come December, I came home with only a ten dollar pair of sunglasses from Feline’s Basement and a small Father’s Day gift for Toby. (He enjoys making us both jam and cheese plates. I thought the nerd in him might find it funny as he sometimes writes code on graph paper.) I wanted to buy a whole lot more.

We had lunch with Brad and Laura yesterday. They are expecting a baby in July. She looks amazing, far better than I whenever I was that far along. Even her ankles looked great! Being with a pregnant woman made me realize how much I miss being pregnant. (Did I just write that out loud?)

I think I’m feeling this way lately because I’m nearing the time Em was born and will therefore fully exit a year of no longer being pregnant. I’m not sure if that makes any sense at all. I call this “The Overlap”. And usually, it’s a good thing. It usually helps me to get over something. For example, say a certain song reminds you of someone whom is no longer in your life making it difficult to hear. “The Overlap” requires listening to that song under new circumstances, with new people so that new memories are created.

I do this with food, smells, songs, periods of time, breakups, vacations, friendships, loyalties, bars, cities, towns, and now apparently pregnancies.

In this instance, however, it makes me a little sad. I’m really going to miss not being able to say, “Last year at this time, I was fully of happy hormones” or “Ndugu was kicking the shit out of me last year at this time!”

I’m not sure if that makes any sense. Maybe I’m a little nuts.

(Note to self: Must bookmark this post so that if I ever do become pregnant again I can go back at 8 months and read it and make fun of myself.)

This week should prove pretty pleasant. On Thursday we have dinner reservations at Gramercy Tavern. My mother is going to come for the day and watch Em. Toby and I are both looking forward to the night out, so much so, we passed on two R.E.M. tickets because the show conflicted with our dinner plans. A younger me would have kicked my ass for this. I simply adore R.E.M. I can’t even begin to tell you how much they mean/meant to me. But I think perhaps my older brother is the only person who will realize how crazy the choice I made really is.

I know this doesn’t make me very popular, but right now, I’d much prefer a quiet night out with my husband at a fine restaurant over standing in Madison Square Garden surrounded by thousands of other people who may or may not really give a damn about the band before them.

The times? They have a-changed, whether I agreed or not.

The Quickest Post I've Ever Written.

2008-06-13T14:57:00Z

Right now, I am dying my hair brown, making toast, and desperately hoping Em decides to sleep for 45 minutes so I can rinse the hair dye out before he wakes up. It’s the all natural variety, but still. And I actually am only dying one hair brown, since I have lost almost all of it. I look like a coconut.

I figured I’d multitask while my toast is in the oven and write a quick post. I haven’t had much time to write lately because Tobyjoe is in Boston and I’ve been away. It’s just me and the little dude.

Speaking of the little dude, Em has decided in the past week that for whatever reason 1:45 AM seems like a perfect time to wake up from a deep sleep and sob until I feed him. This started about a week ago and hasn’t let up. And I have no idea where it’s coming from. Nevertheless, each and every night Tobyjoe and I have given in because, well, we like to sleep. But Tobyjoe is out of town, and so last night I decided to have a go at the “battle of the wills” and he flattened me. I caved after ten minutes.

I realize we’re creating a terrible habit—knowing he can’t soothe himself back to sleep and instead looks to midnight (or later) milk to help, that can’t be a good thing. And I know the answer probably involves “crying-it-out”, but what’s with the sudden change? And why does it happen at almost exactly 1:30 AM every night? Babies are strange.

I’m beat. But otherwise, things are going pretty well. Nico is coming into town tonight and I’m going to be a brunette for the summer. Also, I’m losing weight, albeit at a snail’s pace. But I hear that’s the better way in the long run? I hope so. I really want to get down to a healthy weight so I can get knocked up again and put it all back on by ingesting cupcakes and perogies. (Is that how you spell perogies? Or is it “a pocket of heaven”?).

And, yes, you read that correctly.

OK, I can smell my toast permeating over the smell of hair dye. Must eat, then rinse.

Holy crap! I forgot to mention the most important thing! Em took two steps. He was pissed off at the time, so I am not sure if he even realized it. But he took two steps!

(Please note: I can’t be held accountable for grammatical errors or spelling issues because I seriously wrote this in less than three minutes. I ask that you forgive me. Haste is to blame. And sleep deprivation, 10 months out.)

Edited to add: Pictures! Also, I am going to continue posting a few pictures of Em until he starts to become less baby and more boy. I am thinking at around 14 months? Anyway, more on that later when I write up the changes that will take place here eventually. Soon. Whenever.