Three Pinks

Flat Apple Pie

2012-01-26T18:51:00.000-08:00

The Pinks and I watched The Pioneer Woman on Food TV last weekend. If you aren't familiar with Ree Drummond, read her. The story of how she met her husband, aka Marlboro Man, is just adorable. Anyway, back to Food TV and the recipe that is haunting my family. Ree baked a flat apple pie that had us all drooling. We had friends over for dinner Sunday night and this was very easy to make for dessert.

We served it with whipped cream (real whipping cream + vanilla + granulated sugar) and Ree's caramel sauce, which we upped the ante on by subbing whole cream for half and half.

This recipe makes two so be sure to make two pie crusts (or buy them at Trader Joe's, the perfectly acceptable easy way out). Each pie feeds four generously or six conscious eaters.

Ingredients:

5 Granny Smith apples, peeled and sliced

1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar

2T all-purpose flour

juice of 1/2 lemon

1/2t salt

6T butter

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

In large bowl, stir together the apples, brown sugar, granulated sugar, flour, salt and lemon juice.

Put pie crust dough on large baking sheet.

Place half the apple mixture on one crust and the other half on the other crust. Fold over the edges of each crust so that it covers 2 to 3 inches of the apple mixture. No need to be artistic - the more rustic the better. Dot the tops of the pies with chunks of the butter.

Bake until the filling is golden and bubbly, 30 to 40 minutes. If the crust appears to brown too quickly, cover the edges with aluminium foil for the remaining baking time.

Allow to cool slightly, then slice into wedges with a pizza cutter.

Back to the future

2012-01-22T09:14:00.001-08:00

Thing 1 and I went to LA Dance Magic last night. It's a dance convention, one of many Eldest Daughter and I used to attend during the years that she danced competitively.

Thing 1 loves to dance. She loves music. She loves hair and makeup and sparkles. And she wants to audition for dance team this year. It's clearly a passion of hers and a constant conversation topic in our house. She has taken dance classes since she was three and this year is in three classes: intermediate jazz, intermediate / advance jazz, and ballet.

Last night took me right back to that parallel universe, now chronicled on Lifetime in Dance Moms. It was so many of the same people, doing the same thing, while we'd spent our winter weekends skiing and sleeping in. While we were doing theatre and playdates, they were doing leaps and turns, and homework in the car between classes. I looked carefully into the faces of The Next Step dancers, searching for traces of the five-year-olds that Eldest Daughter began dancing with. I found poised teenagers.

If Thing 1 makes team this will be our reality again. And I will have to figure out if I fit in with the younger team's dance moms or the ones I've known for years, the ones who greeted me with big hugs and surprised faces last night. Or perhaps I will remain a misfit.

Am I in trouble?

2012-01-15T10:07:00.000-08:00

My friend did not answer her phone so I left a message: "Hi. It's Leslie. I wanted to talk to you about two things. Give me a ring back when you have a few moments."

When she called back she said, "I feel like I'm being called into the principal's office."

Uh-oh.

I get it. I've felt that way myself. In fact, I often feel that way when my mother leaves a message. I had, in fact, phoned my friend to pay her a complement and also to ask a favor.

Our conversation then turned to why we react this way. She thinks it's Good Girl Syndrome. I can see that. Rachel Simmons did an entire book on it: The Curse of the Good Girl.

I spoke with my ice cream sister-in-law a week later and she mentioned that she spent her childhood as a rules follower and to some extent, still does so today. We have that in common. I show up at school registration with all the forms filled out and am frustrated by people who slow down the process because they haven't. I understand the return policy at Target and don't ask the clerks to circumvent it. There are fewer conflicts if you understand the guidelines.

However, I've long said that rules are not made for people with twins. So I've broken my fair share there and in business. As a woman in technology, and someone who has seen three start-ups to IPO, it's been a proven technique.

I do not wish to be 13 again. Nor do I wish it for you.

There's a new gun in town.

2012-01-10T09:16:00.000-08:00

Watch out suburbanites. Thing 2 is armed and dangerous.

Three years ago Thing 2 helped Jill clean up her mom's back yard. The process involved the use of a leaf blower, which Thing 2 was too young to use at the time and has coveted ever since. Apparently Thing 2 is now old enough and Jill and Wally got her her very own leaf blower for Hanukah this year. She was shocked into silence when she opened it. Big, big eyes. Literally speechless.

Fast forward to last weekend when she had her first chance to use it.

The fall leaves are long gone but we did have a bit of toilet paper in our yard Saturday morning. The funniest part of us being TP'd is that the 10-year-olds who did it started at 10:30pm and we busted them in act. We thought it hilarious. I wonder if they peed their pants during the dash from the crime scene.

Thank you Oakland Fire Department!

2012-01-06T08:26:00.000-08:00

Our neighborhood supports JDRF, the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation. One of our neighbors is on the San Francisco Chapter board and a few of our neighbors have family members with Juvenile Diabetes.

Dave joined two tables' worth of neighbors and several hundred other people at this year's local JFRF fundraiser. I was sorry to have missed it but happy to celebrate a friend's simcha that night instead.

During the live auction Jan and Jon bought the Oakland Fire Department planting 1,000 daffodils in their backyard. A month later four hunky firefighters showed up to plant them while the neighborhood ladies had a light lunch on their terrace. Such fun and such a good cause! The firemen were great sports, posing while Jon documented the event. As it turned out, one of the men was a soccer dad from a few seasons back. Oy!

I'm so buying this next year.

Loving those latkes!

2011-12-31T15:08:00.000-08:00

I'd never made everyone's favorite Chanukah food before, potato pancakes. The smell of fried food makes me queasy. Heck, I don't even like going inside a McDonald's.

But something inspired me to try this year and so I borrowed a friend's electric fry pan, bought 10 lbs of potatoes and went to town.

I have a new respect for people who make these. They are a ton of work. Dirty work. We don't have a food processor so Dave lovingly (okay, I bribed him) shredded all those potatoes. Then I found an old Gourmet recipe online and added salt, pepper, eggs, lemon juice, onion and flour.

The thing is: for every six I made, I ate one. So making tripling the recipe took 4 hours from start to finish. I set up the fry pan in the back yard and when all was said and done, I completed the task in the dark, with a flashlight. The thermometer read 36F. I am the Frozen Chosen.

Dang they were good.

We had some friends over for the last night of Chanukah and polished them off. With sour cream and applesauce of course.

No one deserves this.

2011-12-29T07:51:00.000-08:00

Never in my life did I expect to publish the contact information for the National Domestic Violence Hotline. But here it is: (800) 799-SAFE. If you need this, or think you need this, call. And call a friend, too. Call me.

You never know what goes on behind closed doors. We've all been shocked when a friend announces that their marriage is over. There are a lot of things people keep to themselves. A close friend went through years of fertility treatments and didn't discuss it beyond her immediate family until she had three kids. I wish I'd known.

My father and Thing 2 spent yesterday with the horses. And when he dropped her off he mentioned that a mutual friend had just fled her home because of domestic violence. I was quite upset by this. Not entirely surprised but disturbed nonetheless because she didn't deserve this. Domestic violence is not limited to those less fortunate or uneducated. This friend is part of the one percent.

Later in the day I read Penelope Trunk's blog and she was parked in a hotel room because her husband beat her again. I fretted over this, too.

Fast forward to 6am today when I see Paige's text that she read Penelope Trunk, too.

And so I blog.

S'mores for Sale

2011-12-26T21:03:00.000-08:00

The Pinks are not Girl Scouts so they don't sell Girl Scout Cookies. They don't sell magazine subscriptions. Nor wrapping paper or frozen cookie dough to benefit the school. They don't set up lemonade stands when I'm on duty.

I'm uncomfortable with them selling things. I'm happy to buy from your child when he or she asks but I don't want my kids selling things to people who may feel obligated to buy.

That all being said, I did let them sell s'mores at Tahoe. We figured out how much the supplies cost and then deducted them from the amount they took in. We discussed pricing options and how they would affect their profits. One for $3? Two for $5? One for $5 on Christmas Eve after the Squaw Valley Torchlight Parade? Into a red-ribbon-tied cellophane bag went two marshmallows, one square of Ghirardelli chocolate and one graham cracker. Once someone bought a package they used our marshmallow skewers to make the gooey treat. One thing we did not consider: marshmallows freeze and become hard to attach to a skewer when it's very cold outside.

As we thought might be the case, The Pinks provided a valuable offering and were met with enthusiastic buyers. There are several fire pits at Squaw and we discussed why it would not be appropriate to sell s'mores near the ice cream shop, the crepe shop and the roasted corn truck. The Pinks seemed to understand that we want to support the local economy, not take from it.

I'm glad we did this. Thing 2 is tenacious. And I'll never see those buyers again, anyway.

Ho Ho. There's no snow.

2011-12-22T12:13:00.000-08:00

We're at Tahoe this week. It's tradition. We come as soon as school breaks for the holidays then stay until Christmas. The crowds descend on Tahoe the 26th and by then we're on our way home, watching the cars creep up Hwy 80.

This year is different. The air is still crisp. Our neighbors are here. The shops and Village buildings are done up in their seasonal best. But one thing is missing: snow.

It's been a nearly dry year. There are three chair lifts open thanks to aggressive snow-making efforts. The ski teams dominate them. It feels a little bit off, like when you accidentally put your shirt on backwards.

The new facilities at Squaw are beautiful. I spent one morning working in the Olympic House. There are new cushy pleather chairs, strong wifi and an expanded menu at Wildflower that now includes a hearty, mountain-style breakfast and lunch. Man cannot live on those cookies alone, as addicting as they are. There are big screen TVs and a children's play area. And big, clean windows looking out on the now-barren mountains. The KT-22 deck has private cabanas and three large fire pits with Adirondack chairs.

The Harvey clan just departed after two days with us. (I'm glad they skied with us; this proves we're not fair weather friends as the last time we met up with the whole entourage was in the record-breaking temps in Villa Bartolomea last summer.) My parents came up last night. My brother and his family arrive this afternoon.

We skied at Alpine Meadows yesterday and the conditions were better than I'd envisioned. There was a fair amount of open intermediate terrain and, although we shared it with the crazy snowboarders, we had a good day skiing as a family. Squaw and Alpine are now co-owned so our passes work at both resorts and there is a shuttle bus connecting the two until the chair is finished next summer.

Now if only it would snow.

It's started.

2011-12-17T15:47:00.000-08:00

One of my children, who shall remain nameless because she doesn't like me blogging about her, came home from middle school and handed me a school-generated form letter. It offered us the opportunity to allow her to read the required high school Health class text this fall then test out of the course, which she'd otherwise have to take a year from now, as a freshman.

This threw me.

Why is this an option? What are the advantages and disadvantages of doing so? And where was the contact information on said form letter so I could ask these questions?

I tracked down the course syllabus and learned that the curriculum includes discussion of STDs, mental health, prescription and street drugs, eating disorders, alcohol's impact on the central nervous system and those movies that show how black your lungs become after using tobacco. Bring it on. I want her to sit through an extended explanation of this instead of glossing over it on her own.

It took me a while to track someone down at the school district to answer my other questions.

Apparently testing out of the course is an option because some parents don't want their teens exposed to all of the content. And by self-study, one can skip sections and still pass. Great. Freedom of choice and all that.

The very nice lady at the district office told me that there is no academic advantage to testing out of the class; the only other option a student has during that period is be a teaching assistant. The easy decision became that much easier.

The thing is, I didn't plan on thinking about high school course options until it was closer to high school. And to do this, one needs to know what it takes to get into college. My blood pressure started rising.

This brings me to the next task I didn't plan on doing so soon: going to some college web sites and seeing exactly what the requirements were. Ugh. I got through the UC System and NYU before I felt a panic attack coming on.

I went into my daughter's room late that night and watched her sleep. It's when she looks youngest, the most innocent. I'm hanging on to that.

I'm sorry for your loss.

2011-12-12T06:15:00.000-08:00

In the last month five of my friends have lost an immediate family member. I am pained by each of these deaths, and for the friends coping day-to-day.

Of them, two died of old age, two died from tumors and the third lost his life to the Big C. People always want to know how someone died. They also want to know why couples divorce. I tell you this so you won't wonder how to nicely ask me.

This is rather a sick thought but I've wondered how I would console my own children if something happened to Dave. I would be so distraught myself but still I would need to be there for the pinks.

Death sucks. It's devastating at any time of the year but more so during this time of year when the days and nights are filled with eat, drink and be merry.

I am fortunate that my parents and mother-in-law are still in good health and local. I try hard to appreciate them although we always think we can do better, see more of them, do more for them. Just hours ago I irritated my mother by telling her that we will not be celebrating Hanukah with them at their home on Dec 27 as we will have done so three nights the previous week up at Tahoe. Bad daughter.

Many years ago I read Tuesdays with Morrie. My takeaway was that death is the end of a life, not of a relationship. That has brought me comfort over the years.

I am also comforted knowing that there are more angels among us.

13.1

2011-12-07T14:54:00.000-08:00

Over the weekend Dave, our friend Dave and I participated in the Las Vegas Rock & Roll Marathon. (We signed up for the half.) It was a quick trip -- in and out in less than 24 hours.

This race was different than the other ones I've done: it began at dusk so you could enjoy the glory of downtown Las Vegas and the strip at night. The thing is, it's cool to start with and only gets cooler. It was a beautiful run down the strip, which was uplit for Christmas, and not so beautiful through the seedy areas of town. I now know where to find the bail bondsmen, drive through wedding chapels, tattoo parlors and lawyers that offer a 50% discount.

This is the biggest of the Rock & Roll events. In fact, 44,000 people ran. That's a lot of feet on the street and a lot of infrastructure to support all those feet, which included closing Las Vegas Blvd. for seven hours.

It was a treat to catch up with Dave, who my husband sees frequently but I do not. And it was fun to run with Dave, my husband, because we never work out together. He is in much better shape than I am and was quite gracious in modifying his pace to match mine.

I was happiest when we were back inside the hotel at the end of the evening. Rain was falling, the wind was blowing and the temps were in the high 30s by then. The race organizers did not anticipate the amount of people who would need aid at the end of the race and it was a lot of chaos. They also did not anticipate the number of bathrooms needed along the course, which was lacking in bushes or cars to dip behind.

One of the things I enjoy most about events such as these is the diversity of the crowd: people of all colors, shapes and sizes wearing tutus, Elvis costumes, inspirational t-shirts, crazy hats and wigs, patterned socks. While it wasn't Bay-to-Breakers style, it was quirky and silly. And a good time in that oh-I'm-going-to-be-in-pain-tomorrow sort of way.

Totem

2011-12-03T21:15:00.000-08:00

We took The Pinks to see Totem, the most recent Cirque du Soleil show to visit San Francisco. We're Cirque junkies, having seen every one that has come through the Bay and quite a few of resident ones, too. Mystere, in the Las Vegas Mirage Hotel, is my favorite although O is more technically impressive.

Totem was very good, one of the better shows. My favorite act was the five unicyclists juggling metal bowls with their feet. I also liked the Russian Bars, which had 10 men dressed in South American-inspired clothing. They did acrobatics while being flung from bar to bar. The most interesting act, and one I thoroughly enjoyed, was a scientist juggling fluorescent-filled balls while he stood inside a funnel, using the funnel as a relay for the balls. And the kids and Dave? Oh yes, they liked it too.

Friends joined us for dinner at Public House, a Traci des Jardins restaurant near the big top. The gussied-up sports pub food was top notch (I expected little else from des Jardins, who won my affections many years ago with Jardiniere.) and it was good to catch up with two of the Week 1 Italy Families.

The above picture is of Thing 2 posing with one of the entertainers at intermission. Totem plays in San Francisco through December 18. Go!

Black Friday is over-rated.

2011-11-28T16:05:00.000-08:00

I did not host Thanksgiving this year and that meant I did not stay up until midnight with Mr. Clean the Magic Eraser.

This enabled me, Eldest Daughter and Thing 1 to leave the house at 5:40a Friday to participate in a holiday tradition that somehow we'd thus far avoided: Black Friday Shopping.

Eh. Not worth doing again. Something is broken with retail shopping.

We headed to Hacienda Crossing, the location of our closest Old Navy, Ulta, and Bed, Bath and Beyond. The parking lot was about 10% full. This translated to very few shoppers even though there is a Best Buy there, too. It took us less than an hour to ransack those three shops and hit Starbucks.

It was too early to go home so we made one last stop: Toys R Us. It wasn't empty but it wasn't crowded, either. I offered The Pinks a trip to the big mall and they declined, citing sleepiness. By 8:45a we were home and I crawled back into bed.

Total damage: less than $300 and that included all new towels for Tahoe.

There is a beautiful, recently remodeled shopping center near our house: Blackhawk Plaza. Yet the retail turnover there is constant and has been for the 18 years I have lived in this town. I shop there only occasionally and that's because I like Anthropologie. A chain accessories shop just went in and I hope the management company sees that even the CEOs and cougars who live inside the gates like good value. Put in a Sephora or a Cheesecake Factory to draw in the masses. It's a great place for the under 7s to go with the playground and ducks. But that's it.

I'll be curious to see the retail numbers post-holidays this year. And there will be no dearth of news on it I'm sure.

Mountain High - Thanksgiving Week Edition

2011-11-23T18:12:00.000-08:00

We've just come back from a quick trip to Tahoe. We've not been up since summer and my body was begging for the scent of pine trees in the most unrelenting of ways. This trip was really just to get the house ready for winter. Provisioning. Cleaning. Organizing.

Squaw merged with Alpine Meadows this year and KSL, the owner of both properties, is halfway through a $30M renovation of Squaw. There have been lots of changes.

Here are some highlights:

There is signage everywhere.
The ticket kiosks and ski school office were demolished and a new skier service center was added to the Olympic House. The site of the former kiosks is wide open now and it's not an icy hike up to the Funitel.
The filthy, dingy lower level of the Olympic House was gutted. All the restaurants and shops are gone, and all that remains of the original space is the fireplace and stairs. There is a gorgeous new locker room and a lot of dust as the construction continues. Fire pits are being installed on the KT deck along with private cabanas.
The Blue Coyote is gone and the space is in the process of being converted to a new restaurant. That's number three in the spot if my memory serves correctly.
The North Face has moved into The Village.
The Rainbow Bridge (aka that weird spiritual shop) has closed, as has All Fired Up and the ice cream shop, which was much better during its first iteration as Ben & Jerry's.
Chamois, the pizza place, appears to have lost its liquor license for two weeks. At least that's what the notice hanging in its window says.
Starbucks has remodeled. The service is still mediocre.

Very little was open during our stay, just Starbucks, Mamasake and Mountain Nectar. Winter operations begin tomorrow. Thing 1 broke into tears when she saw Exhibition running Sunday morning, knowing we'd left all our ski gear down in the Bay. Fortunately or unfortunately it was for Squaw ski team members only to get a leg up on the other local race teams.

The drive up was tougher than usual. It was raining in the Bay and we saw four car accidents in the first 15 miles of our drive. It was snowing over the pass and Caltrans was hauling a few cars out of ditches in the Sierras, too. Not optimal but we arrived. And were rewarded with three days of falling snow and the area mostly to ourselves.

Next stop: Singapore!

2011-11-20T12:36:00.000-08:00

My Badger friend Hillary moved from NYC to Singapore this year. Her husband is the chair of NYU's Tisch Asia School of the Arts.

Coincidentally, my mother-in-law is doing a four-month Crystal Cruise and will have two days in Shanghai this spring.

These two facts mean one clear thing: a road trip is in my future!

I've just done my airline ticket to visit Hil, Jean-Marc and Sophia then meet up with my MIL and Dave in Shanghai.

Am I the only one who gets a panic attack when they push the "purchase" button on an international airline transaction? This panic attack is accompanied by a buzz, too, the buzz of solidifying my next adventure. But it really and truly means I will spend 20+ hours in the air, 40+ hours over a week's time, and leave my kids on the other side of the world.

Singapore is a long way from here. It's even further from New York, where most of Hil's family and friends live. I'm very excited to see her for a few days. There is no easy way to do this triangle and Dave and I spent way too much time playing with the variables: low cost and milk run vs airline we've never heard of and direct route vs high cost and miserable departure and arrival times.

During the course of putting this trip together I discovered a fabulous travel site, Hipmunk. It's visual interface is easy on the eyes and it's really cute, too. It also satisfies my emerging monkey fetish. I'm a big fan of MailChimp, which I use for work.

If you've got any Singapore or Shanghai recs, I'm ready for them!

Why do we read sad stories?

2011-11-16T16:00:00.000-08:00

I just finished reading My Own Country, Abraham Verghese's first book. Verghese is best known for his recent New York Times bestseller Cutting for Stone.

It's another exceptional read. Dr. Verghese chronicles his early years practicing medicine in Johnson City, Tennessee. His specialty is infectious diseases and this is 1985, when AIDS was just reaching from big cities to small towns. Verghese, a newly married, Ethiopian-raised Indian doctor, struggles to fit in and the parallel is easily drawn to his patients, who find themselves shunned by other physicians and the community as a whole as they've come home to die. The great empathy he has for his patients, as well as his diagnostic skills and brilliance at putting words on the page, makes this a memoir I didn't want to end.

You'd think that the subject matter would make the book a downer. But, even though we know upfront that all these people will die, Verghese manages to weave a beautiful, poignant story of the people, the culture, the beauty of the region and his quest to save lives and ease pain.

Why do we read books such as these? A Thousand Splendid Sons and The Kite Runner were horrific. Tweak and Beautiful Boy were scary in the "Lord, please don't let my kid ever get near meth sort of way". Unbroken takes gruesome suffering to a new level. It's easily been two decades since I read The Prince of Tides yet one disturbing scene remains with me, still.

Is this akin to watching a train wreck?

Bravo Belles!

2011-11-12T15:54:00.000-08:00

My kid plays goalie. I hate it. It's dang stressful. But she loves it and Dave and I support her in things she's passionate about, especially when they're good for her.

Today all that stress paid off. Her team won its age and division championship. I'm hoarse from all that screaming on the sidelines. My hands are raw from clapping.

One week until the indoor soccer season begins. Oy!

Back away, people.

2011-11-09T15:27:00.001-08:00

Let me preface this post by saying that I'm having a great day. I've done some good work. I went to a professional group meeting over lunch. The speaker was engaging and relevant. Caryl is going to join my gym, which means we can spend more time together. Vanity Fair came in the mail. It's a perfect fall day in Northern California. I have lots to be happy about.

However, sometimes we need to put our big girl panties on and deal.

One of our neighbors drives very fast, much faster than one should drive in a neighborhood where children ride their bikes and walk to the bus stop. This morning she nearly ran over one of our kids and didn't even slow down; I think she didn't notice. Tonight I must confront her.

The youngest Pinks had an assembly yesterday. And something happened during the first five minutes of it which led the principal to cancel it. My children came home and told me that the principal yelled at them so that leads me to believe it was a behavior issue. Where is the communication to parents on this, showing the administration's side of the story? If there is no such message then I will just have to take my children's version of the story as the gospel. I sent off a note to her today, too. Surprise!

No, I do not have PMS.

SOS - Save our Schools!

2011-11-05T11:40:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Mike Cannon's last day as vice principal at our middle school. Monday he starts his new job as principal at a much larger middle school two towns north of here. I am happy for him professionally and personally, and I am also saddened at our school district's loss of this talented administrator.

From the outside, it does not seem like being a middle school vice principal would be fun. All those hormones. Discipline. Logistics. Clearly I work in the private sector and don't get the thrill of it all. I'm glad someone does.

I met Mike about a year ago when he helped me with logistics for the Rachel Simmons Curse of the Good Girl lecture. As it turns out, he lives in the same neighborhood as my brother and they're friendly. I've gotten to know his family and they're just good stock, the kind of people you want around.

We have a new principal at our elementary school this year and she appears to be doing as little as possible to get by. I've spoken with our PTA president, other parents and the school district about this and am hopeful the district will address those in time for her to make an impact. She's got a tough job -- her two predecessors were both strong, opinionated women who didn't back away from a challenge. Fortunately the youngest Pinks have good teachers this year and that will affect them far more than the principal.

We intentionally live in a community with stellar schools. Yet I'm disappointed in these two recent turn of events. We could private school our children but we don't want to. Dave and I are products of public schooling, all the way through college, and are advocates of it. Even if we did want to go the private school route, the only ones within 15 miles of here are parochial. This is what keeps me awake at night.

Sore.

2011-10-20T13:09:00.000-07:00

I ache all over. Painting is not very hard work. However, when you are on the top of a four-story condo building painting gutters while clinging to scaffolding for dear life, it's harder. Factor in the wind and the marine layer, which never burned off in Daly City, and four layers of clothing. It's the contortionism required to avoid sudden death that causes the ache.

Today I'm happy and sore. Happy to have spent yesterday doing Habitat for Humanity with Dave and Jen. Happy that hair spray takes latex paint out of my jeans and jacket. Happy to contribute to a good cause.

Inspired

2011-10-17T15:18:00.000-07:00

Caryl, Jill, Senora Frahm and I went to one of Ron Morgan's floral design classes this morning in Lafayette. He threw together five or six arrangements in an hour and we all left with big smiles on our faces, brains weary from his zippy one liners and bug eyes from looking at all the pretties.

Every Monday morning should start this way.

Happily Ever After

2011-10-14T19:05:00.000-07:00

Dave and I spent last weekend with friends, both old and new.

We drove down to Monterey Friday night and spent the night with Dennis and Margo. They live in Pasadera, on the golf course, and their life revolves around golf. Dennis fired up the grill and we had steaks and salad, and a lot of wine was consumed.

Turn back the clock 16 years. My alarm clock went off at 4:30am on a Saturday morning. Margo and her ex-husband pulled up in our driveway at 5:00am and off we went for an overnight ski trip to Kirkwood. Margo and Mark drove from San Carlos so they were easily up at 3:30a. We got to the mountain as the lifts opened, skied all day, and apres-ski Dave, Mark and I collapsed on couches in the rental condo. Margo then made an amazing dinner of Chicken Piccata and salad. Sixteen years later I still remember the meal. I still remember that she made it after little sleep, driving 4 hours, and skiing all day. That's Margo.

The Margo I saw Friday night is still working her way back to normal after two miserable years of illness. Although I've seen her several times during the last few years it still threw me.

Saturday morning we hopped on the 101 south to Solvang for Andy and Angela's wedding nearby. The day could not have been more perfect for a wedding: it was 80F and sunny with a slight breeze. The wedding was at the Gainey Vineyard Ranch in Santa Ynez and it was one of those rustic ranch style weddings Martha Stewart popularized.

The place cards were tiny clusters of flowers in salt shaker vases. The favors were lavender potpourri and Jordan almonds that the Andy's mom brought back from France. Many of the floral arrangements were in mason jars (my favorite!). There bathrooms were labeled Cowgirl and Cowboy. And best of all, dinner was Santa Maria BBQ! Dessert was It's Its. Divine!

Andy is a friend of Dave's, someone I've met just a few times. What struck me most about the event was how fabulous Andy's friends are. They were nearly all from his prep school, college and finance-industry days. Each one was smarter, nicer and more inclusive than the next.

Solvang, the Danish enclave in central California established in the early 1900s, is as kitschy as I remember it from childhood. We were there less than 24 hours and tried three bakeries.

And then we made the long drive home, back to reality and The Three Pinks.

And in the mail arrived a mini vacation.

2011-10-10T17:22:00.000-07:00

Thom's Italy pictures came in the mail last week. There were 900. I edited them down to the 120 I want to keep.

I was rather lazy about shooting pictures in Italy; history has shown that I end up using most of Thom's anyway. There are easily a dozen fabulous ones of his immediate family and I can't wait to see which one makes the holiday card.

Here are a few of my favorites, ones I can't stand not to share with you.

Thom, Dave and Dave, above. Thom and my husband Dave met on move in day in the dorms freshman year at SDSU.

They've been joined at the hip pretty much ever since. The other Dave is a few years younger than my husband and Thom, and the trio are fraternity brothers. Betas in case you were wondering. There's a very similar picture to this taken in Provence. Among the lavender which makes me sneeze just recalling it.

Looking at these pictures makes me remember, again, how lucky we are that they married well. Jackie and Sara are just neat women, smart and fun. They jump right in and do what needs to be done, parenting whoever happens to be around, good traits when you're vacationing together. Jackie was kind enough to bring her sister on this trip, too. Those of you with sisters -- appreciate them! Call them right now and tell them how much you love them! I had to wait until I married to get one of my own.

Dave and Jackie's kids are so dang photogenic. This post has a great picture of them plus one that includes Maggie, Jackie's chic sister. (She is single, has a good job, a good haircut, divine taste in shoes and wants kids. Any takers?) It also has my favorite picture of Thom and Sara.

Thom easily shot a dozen gorgeous pictures of Dave and Jackie's kids solo. I hope they have a wall dedicated to these at home. Here's a great one of their family taken at Cafe Florian in Venice, where we let the kids order the most expensive and watered-down soft drinks ever. They did come with ice. Who else but a foreigner would pay that amount?! I realize I'm out on a limb complaining about a travel experience that 99% of the people on the planet will never have. I'm grateful, really I am.

Here's Thom and Sara's youngest, who we affectionately call the Human Tornado, eating gelato outside The Arena in Verona with our twins. I have a variants of this photo taken in Spain, France and Tuscany. There does exist a picture of all five of our daughters eating gelato. However, Eldest Daughter abhors when I post pictures of her so I am respecting her wishes. This time.

Thom shot this picture in Verona in Giulietta's courtyard. He did a good job capturing the graffiti and the ambiance-destroying element of it. It was rather disgusting. Look but don't touch, kids.

Suite! My Fairytale!

2011-10-06T12:30:00.000-07:00

I'm just back from a business trip to LA. Disneyland to be specific. Even more specifically: a technobabble convention at the Disneyland Hotel. I didn't have time to get into the parks, which was fine since it was pouring rain.

The whole Disney experience is odd when you have kids but they're not with you. Apparently we've stayed on property so many times that we're VIPs. I learned this when I checked in and was upgraded to the Fairytale Suite. If going to Disney without the kids didn't make me feel bad enough, the over-the-top suite did.

Here are the highlights:

Animatronic art on the walls: dancing prince and princess, The Beast, etc.
When You Wish Upon a Star playing in the foyer whenever the door to the hallway is opened or shut
Decor in soothing taupe, cream and light blue
A sumptuous four poster bed with tasseled silk draperies
Silk carpets
A silk chaise lounge
An 11th floor corner room with a straight-on view of Downtown Disney and both theme parks
Mosaics on the floors and walls that rival those of The Vatican
Live orchids
New fluffy white towels, tags still attached (not optimal to have to rip tags off myself and they also shed)
A TV located behind the large bathroom mirror so the image comes through the mirror. I watched the Today Show while putting on my makeup.
A remote controlled TV that emerges from the dresser in front of the bed. There are nine cartoon channels but no Food TV, OWN, E! or Bravo.
A Keurig single-cup coffee / tea machine with a dozen flavor options. This was useful as I got up five times during the night to watch the Disney magic still going on in Downtown Disney and the lights on the rides during the wee hours of the morning.
Remote controlled draperies and lights throughout the suite. Eh. I like the drapes open when I travel. It reminds me that I'm not in Kansas any more.
Under counter flashing (um flickering?) lights in the bathroom vanity, activated by remote. I had to look under the counters to see how they pulled this off. It's less sophisticated than you'd think.
Remote controlled ceiling stars.

Truly it was a kick but I would have enjoyed it more with Dave and The Pinks.

The business trip itself was worthwhile. I talked to industry pundits and customers about our particular breed of technology, bonded with my co workers and contributed to California's economy. I even got to experience two new things: driving a minivan (quick errand to Target with my colleague's car) and flying in and out of the Long Beach Airport.

Success!

Dancing with myself. A fail.

2011-10-01T16:04:00.000-07:00

My gym offers Zumba, a Latin-inspired dance class. Two of The Pinks dance well so it follows that I'd have a bit of innate talent in that area. Nope.

Over the weekend I tried Zumba (again) and it was a fail. The biggest benefit of the class (okay, of the 20 minutes I lasted in the class) was being reminded of the dancing Dave and I did in Carpi, Italy this summer.

Carpi is a teeny tiny speck on the map just south of Villa Bartolomea. Jill and Wally stumbled upon Antica Trattoria Bellinazzo while biking and this Slow Food restaurant became the most visited restaurant of our summer vacation after the pizzeria down the street from the villa.

We had an adults-only meal one evening and devoured Daniele's house-made salami called Stortina Veronese and Parmesan and cinnamon risotto made by his grandmother. Some in our group ate donkey that night but not surprisingly, I passed.

After dinner we strolled down the block and discovered that the whole town was out celebrating something or other. In the center of the street was a huge dance floor with people line dancing. Dave and I joined right in. I swear that I could hear our friends laughing over the Italian musicians. Fortunately the dance was simple enough that I could follow.

Much better than Zumba.

Mountain View

2011-09-29T16:34:00.000-07:00

I drive here two days a week to work. It's a long commute. Long as in more than an hour each way.

The good news, great news really, is that I like Mountain View. It's home to 75,000 people including Seth and Lori, who I hope to see more of. My office is on Castro Street, the main drag, and out the door is the performing arts center. A Posh Bagel is on the ground floor of our high rise, a bonus for me as I am in the office at 7am. There are restaurants and independent book stores and coffee shops. There are Chinese Herbalists and two music stores. There's a fish store, which is different than a fish market.

Mountain View has an ethnic diversity that my suburb does not. People smile as they walk down the street. They push strollers. They are young and they are old. They carry library books.

CALTRAIN stops near my office and I see people get off the train with their bikes then ride over the 101 to the NASA Ames Research Center at Moffett Field. I'd like to commute that way.

It's the things you never expect.

Interviewing and The Bachelorette

2011-09-25T14:01:00.000-07:00

As you know, I just landed my next gig. It didn't turn out to be a gig after all; it's a full-time, in-house job. During the 12 years I spent consulting, I was always subtly selling myself. It's a natural part of networking and lining up your next project.

So, when I interviewed for this job I didn't view the process as a one-sided Q&A session. It was simply conversations, a bit about me, a bit about the company, much more about the industry, market opportunity and the challenges the company is trying to solve. It's a lot like going to coffee with a friend except that I prep and doll up.

While I had this new mentality, I realized how much the traditional job hunt has in common with the TV show no one admits they are addicted to: The Bachelorette. The Bachelorette's goal is to find the perfect husband. The Employer's goal is to find the perfect hire.

The initial selection.

The Bachelorette chooses from 25 pre-selected men.
The Employer weeds through many resumes.

Narrowing down the playing field.

The Bachelorette talks to all the men and eliminates suitors who dis their previous amours via a dramatic rose ceremony.
The Employer screens the candidates by phone and eliminates the ones who say rude things about their previous employers.

The challenge.

The Bachelorette puts the men through exercises such as boxing, zip lining, and a mock wedding to test their mettle.
The Employer drills the candidates on how they would handle situations such as witnessing an employee using the color laser printer to create the Star of the Week poster for their kindergartener.

The suck up.

The Bachelorette tries to sell the bachelors on why she is the best thing since the advent of the Internet.
The Employer tries to sell the prospective employee on their company culture (we have Segway races at lunch and bagels on Friday mornings!), their promote from within philosophy (nearly always BS), and their benefits package (yes, domestic partner healthcare coverage).

The confirmation.

The Bachelorette expects and looks for signs that the men are all about her, even though she is dating more than one of them. Failure to profess that the Bachelorette is the be all, end all results in the Bachelorette depriving the man of a rose.
The Employer expects and looks for signs that the candidate is only interested in them. Failure sell the Employer on their devotion to the potential employer results in questioning the candidate's interest in the position.

The offer.

The Bachelorette selects the man she wants to marry and hopes he proposes.
The Employer extends a job offer and hopes the candidate accepts it.

And they all live happily ever after. Maybe.

Baseball, Brad & Benefit

2011-09-22T10:12:00.000-07:00

Eldest Daughter and I were lucky enough to attend the Moneyball Premiere in Oakland Monday night.

In case you've been hiding under a rock, Moneyball is Brad Pitt's new film about the Oakland A's 2002 season. Pitt plays Billy Beane, the A's general manager, who is forced by budget constraints to take a controversial, statistics-based approach to field his team. The movie is based on the book by Michael Lewis, who also wrote The Blindside.

The event, held at the Paramount Theatre, benefited Children's Hospital Oakland. Once we got inside, we positioned ourselves adjacent to the front door and greeted Phillip Seymour Hoffman, who I've loved since The Talented Mr. Ripley, and many of the current players, including David DeJesus. Hometown hero Sully was there as were some suburban mommies. The theatre lobby was packed, not surprisingly, and admission bought as many designer cocktails as one could consume during the hour before the movie.

I was wearing a skirt, heels and a lot more eye makeup than I usually wear, courtesy of Eldest Daughter's heavy hand.

Eldest Daughter wore heels and white jeans. The A's Wives were channeling The Housewives of New Jersey. The majority of men wore jacket and tie, and were accompanied by women in black cocktail dresses with Louboutins or Tabitha Simmons.

It had been many years since I'd been to the Paramount Theatre. In fact, Eldest Daughter and I were last there to see The Wiggles. The 1930s building remains a stunning piece of Art Deco architecture and is on the National Register of Historic Places. Even Eldest Daughter commented on the grandeur of the bathrooms.

Fortunately, Dave and Eldest Daughter did not end up on the cutting room floor. The scene they shot as extras made the big screen version. This is Dave's second movie and Eldest Daughter's first.

The premiere boiled down to this: the director introduced and thanked the contributors, some of whom he brought up on stage. Enter Brad Pitt to deafening (and well deserved) applause. Then they rolled the film. We watched it and then we left.

It's a good movie. I like baseball and I like the A's. And I feel a smidge romantic about baseball after seeing this film, the same way you do after your team wins the series.

Thanks Brad!

Olympic Seoul Chicken

2011-09-19T11:40:00.000-07:00

Thing 1 had this for dinner at her friend Emma's house and raved about it. It is very good and easy to make, too. Enjoy!

Adapted from Arthur Schwartz, author of Arthur Schwartz’s New York City Food and Arthur Schwartz’s Jewish Home Cooking.

¼ cup (60ml) rice vinegar (unseasoned)

3 tablespoons (45ml) soy sauce

2 tablespoons (30ml) honey

1-inch (3cm) piece fresh ginger, peeled and minced

8 chicken thighs, skinned

10 cloves garlic, peeled and minced

1½ teaspoon chili powder (I used cochutgaru, but any will do)

a handful of chopped green onions, including the dark green part

1. Mix together the vinegar, soy sauce, honey, and ginger.

2. Heat enough oil in a large skillet until it just covers the bottom. When it’s hot and shimmering, sauté the chicken thighs until well-browned on all sides, about 10 minutes.

3. Add the garlic and chili powder and cook for 2 more minutes, stirring constantly so the garlic doesn’t burn.

4. Pour in the vinegar mixture, cover, and simmer for 15 minutes, or until done. While the thighs are cooking, turn them a couple of times in the marinade.

5. Once they’re done, remove the cover, add the green onions, and cook for another minute or so, until the sauce is slightly thickened.

Serve with rice, kimchi, toasted nori, or any other accompaniments. Also good with a pile of steamed green beans drizzled with sesame oil and toasted sesame seeds sprinkled on top.

I like to build.

2011-09-14T08:00:00.000-07:00

There's exciting news beyond the seven pair of shoes I bought this summer. (There. It's out for the whole blogosphere to see. I demonstrated exceptional self-restraint in Italy. You may leave your heartfelt kudos in the comments section.)

And now the scoop: I've gone back in house. This is also known as taking a full-time job or becoming a company employee. It certainly wasn't my plan but this company looked like so much fun and I have a big opportunity to make a difference (in that technodweeby sort of way).

The company is called SOASTA. It rhymes with toaster, if you're from Boston. A former colleague referred me.

Two interesting opportunities presented themselves. Although they were night and day in the marketing world, they were both at the intersection of good money and things I enjoy. In the end my brother said something that made sense: You like start ups. I do like start ups. I did three successful ones before The Pinks were born. I like to build. To create. To sit at the table. (Thank you Sheryl Sandberg.)

Today I begin my new journey.

I'm glad Hillary lives in Singapore now.

2011-09-11T08:00:00.000-07:00

Sort of.

Hillary is one of my college friends and she, her husband and her daughter moved to Singapore in July. They previously lived in Manhattan, where Hil has lived since college.

9/11 took a huge emotional toll on her. It took a toll on all of us but especially on those who lived and worked in New York City. She lived it. I watched it on TV.

I have been running on my treadmill, often while watching TV. On Friday I did not think I could finish my training program; I was tired and hot. But then, on the Today Show, came the disturbing footage of the Twin Towers collapsing and of the ensuing chaos. I completed my workout, running like I was there, running from the horrifying scene. I ran until I could no longer breathe.

So while I wish Hillary were still just a six-hour flight from me, I'm glad she will be spared the experience of rehashing the horror in Manhattan.

We shall never forget.

The Smells of Summer

2011-09-09T19:35:00.000-07:00

Summer is nearly over on the calendar. The kids are back in school so the season is over in their minds. I will miss the smells.

Peaches. On the counter one day before spoiling.

Sun baked babies. Sun-warmed children covered in sunscreen, slightly sweaty.

Freshly cut grass. Followed by the a sound: sneezing.

Moisture, slightly sweet. In the air before the morning fog burns off.

Basil. Walking through the Farmer's Market.

Cleats. Soccer practice has begun.

Roasting tomatoes. Tomatoes arrived on the late side this season and we are buried with them now.

Air conditioned air. The slightly sweet odor in your car.

Are there any smells that you associate with Summer?

Summer Reading

2011-09-06T15:55:00.000-07:00

It was a good summer for reading!

Unbroken. Laura Hillenbrand managed to best Seabiscuit. When is the movie forthcoming? I was a bit put off by all the details in the first 50 pages and almost gave it up. But I kept reading because everyone raved about this book and once I got further into the story, I realized why the author devoted so many pages to Olympic and World War II statistics. Wow. She is a master researcher. The true story of Louis Zamperini, a juvenile delinquent cum Olympic runner cum POW cum Army hero, is fascinating and unlikely. I kept asking myself, "Why did he choose to live during these circumstances instead of doing the easier thing and dying?" If you can get through 600 pages, it's a great read.

The Imperfectionists. I kept looking for a plot in Tom Rachman's debut novel about an English language newspaper in Rome. It didn't exist. But the writing is good and the characters were quirky enough to keep my attention. I read it in Villa Bartolomea, which added to the experience.

Dreams of Joy. This is Lisa See's follow on to Shanghai Girls, which I loved. I did not love the first part of this book but, like Unbroken, 50 pages in I was hooked to the point of putting off non essential things to get through it. It's about a mother and a daughter, Communist China during the late 1950s and dreams. It's an exceptional read provided you read and enjoyed Shanghai Girls.

Little Bee. Chris Cleave's story is of a Nigerian woman who flees the horrors of her own country and becomes a refugee in England. It's dramatic, sad and gory in places. And it made me think long after I finished it. It makes you consider the world and your place in it. Highly recommended.

The House in France. Gully Wells name drops too much in her memoir and, not being a part of London's liberated circle of intellectuals in the 1960s, I was unimpressed. However, her writing is solid and pithy. (I love the word pithy. I want my own writing to be pithy.) It's a good look into her life in the south of France, London and New York in the 1960s and 70s, complete with all the details of adultery, philosophical discussions, discos, drugs and food. An interesting but not especially deep read. My recommendation: skim the British politics and focus on the characters, which are straight out of central casting.

Get Out of my Life. But first can you drive me and Cheryl to the mall? A parenting book recommended by a friend whose oldest is in college and whose youngest just started kindergarten. Two takeaways here: they will eventually outgrow this selfish, unreasonable stage and don't bother getting into extended debates with them. Eldest Daughter was concerned when she saw this on my nightstand. She does not like when I study up on parenting.

My Friend Paris!

2011-09-01T14:47:00.000-07:00

There were three My Friend Paris book events this summer!

Thing 1 read Paris Goes to Los Angeles at READ in Danville. More than 60 people came to the event, including her 3rd grade teacher and some former classmates. Most impressive was our college-aged neighbor toting the trio of very young children she is nannying this summer and another very young neighbor. After the event friends and family joined us for lunch at the playground adjacent to the book store.

Jenna, Paris' first cousin who wrote Paris Goes to Los Angeles, had her launch party at King's Fish House in Calabasas. Bruce, Kris, Kendall, Kylie, Kim, Kourtney and Khloe had other plans that day. A good crowd came to support Jenna, including our friends from Manhattan Beach who'd just joined us in Italy. This took place the day after the girls returned from two weeks at sleep-away camp.

And finally, Thing 1 read Paris Goes to San Francisco at the Boudin Bakery flagship store in San Francisco. The bakers made extra teddy bear sourdough loaves for the occasion - Thing 1's favorite.

Boudin did a great job promoting the event. The book has its own display in the store and every now and then friends text us pictures they've shot when discovering it.

It's been a big summer of publicity for the My Friend Paris series. If you still need copies you can buy them on Amazon.

And then there's the golf ...

2011-08-29T17:40:00.000-07:00

A long time ago someone advised Dave that to remain involved in his children's lives he should make their interests his own interests.

He's done a good job of that. He's been to dance performances and recitals, children's theater performances, soccer, softball and basketball games, ice skating, roller skating, animated movies, amusement parks, and on and on.

We took the kids to an Oakland A's game this summer and I was blown away by how closely they watched the game; apparently it interests them now that they know softball. This is a good example of how, finally, their interests are merging with ours.

This was The Summer of Golf. Golf is a great sport in general.

You can play your whole life. Golf courses are located in beautiful settings, often vacation destinations. It's both physical and mental. This sport holds huge promise for our family. Hopefully the kids can play at the club with him someday and we can golf together on vacation. To prepare for The Summer of Golf Dave bought three sets of she-colored clubs, balls and bags. I recently tagged along with them to Golfsmith to weigh in on golf clothes. Boy was I in for a surprise. Who knew there was so much gear involved? And that so much of it was girly?

First, the floral hat clips and divot tools. Exactly what needs clipping to your hat? There are two-way pink plastic cleaning brushes. Both ways looked the same to me. And pink club grips. Is your club without a grip when you buy it? Or do you throw out the primary colored one in favor of pink post purchase? Apparently there's an issue with pants falling down during golf. I saw a big display of belts and buckles. Also, golf tees come in all the colors of the rainbow. As do Sharpies, which apparently are necessary to mark one's ball.

All this time I thought it was a relatively simple game: hit the tiny ball into the tiny hole hundreds of yards down the fairway. Apparently not.

Better Butter

2011-08-24T08:52:00.000-07:00

Nichole, an American photographer and copywriter, recently blogged about French butter. She did another post about it, too, with a beautiful photograph of its packaging. I am a sucker for good packaging.

David Lebovitz, my favorite former Chez Panisse pastry chef living in Paris, has blogged about French butter.

I like good butter. When we're traveling overseas I seek out high-end butter. I cook with good butter. When in Neeracha's refrigerator I discovered that she has a thing for good butter, too. Even though Jill and I haven't discussed it, I bet she belongs to this club.

Eating good butter on fresh bread gives me the chills. It lightly coats your tongue and does not sit, like lead, in your stomach.

To the store I go.

Sidebar: Nichole sells her beautiful Parisian photography on etsy. Search "little brown pen". I have several of her photos and have given many others as gifts. She organizes them by colorways, which make them easy to group in any room.

The Sounds of Summer

2011-08-21T21:06:00.000-07:00

Crickets. I'm sad when they go wherever they go for the winter.

Fountains. We have two in our yard and they co-mingle with the crickets at night.

Sprinklers. They go on at 5am. I hear them depending on how deep I'm sleeping.

Piano. The next door neighbors' kids play beautifully and I love listening to it.

The three-year-old screaming. The other next door neighbors have an adorable blond son who is doing age-appropriate vocalization.

Porsche. The neighbor's ride is distinct.

Splashing and laughter. Happy children at the pool.

Eldest Daughter. She wants her sisters to be quiet longer in the morning so she can sleep.

The fan. A necessity with the treadmill during warm months.

Funky ice cream truck horn. At the pool.

What sounds do you associate with summer?

Aida!

2011-08-16T08:10:00.000-07:00

It's no secret that my sports-loving husband is also a huge opera fan. For him, visiting Verona meant going to the opera. It's one of life's check offs.

I, however, am not an opera fan. We've been to the San Francisco Opera several times and frankly, it's a lot of work: reading those subtitles, watching the performance, listening to the singing in another language, and hours and hours long. Then add the trip into the city and the dinner. Still, we were in Verona and Dave got tickets in advance of our trip. And so we went. At the 2,000 year old Roman amphitheatre called the Forum.

For those of you unfamiliar with this particular opera, here's the short version: Aida is an Ethiopian princess. She's captured and brought into slavery in Egypt. A military commander falls in love with her and must choose between her and his loyalty to the Pharaoh. And we all know how operas end.

Aida is four long acts. Apparently Verdi had a lot to say in this particular opera. The triumphal march in the second act was well done, with four obedient horses. There were no subtitles. There was no need for vocal or instrumental amplification. At one point there were more than 350 performers on stage. It was a warm but not an oppressively warm night. The moon was out. The sun set behind the Forum. It was another perfect moment. And the woman seated in front of me gave us a laugh.

We left the kids at the villa and the ten of us had adults-only dinner at a chic restaurant Neeracha picked out, Trattoria al Pompieri. The risotto in local red wine was too rich to take seriously but the salumi platter was amazing. I honestly don't remember what I ate but I do remember being embarrassed that I did not offer to share it with anyone. Black and white photographs of famous Italians covered the walls; Jill and I didn't know who they were so we amused ourselves by making up stories about them.

Verona charmed us and we took The Pinks back another day for further exploration. It's an adorable town with a cathedral that's less grand on the outside than others in cities of its stature yet filled with beautiful art inside. We poked our heads in during Saturday mass and enjoyed a bit of the service. The people in Verona are friendly, the stores and restaurants abundant and the streets easy to navigate. There are bridges to see. And gelato to eat.

We quickly visited Casa de Giulietta, the dumbest tourist attraction ever. This is the recreation of Juliet's balcony, which isn't real to begin with as Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet is a work of fiction. There's also an iron statue of Juliet in the courtyard, which people get their jollies on by rubbing her right breast. Heck, if this adventure enables the kids to better connect with the works of Shakespeare, it was worthwhile.

Camping in the Louvre

2011-08-13T17:12:00.000-07:00

Dan nailed it: staying in an old Italian villa is like camping in the Louvre.

Villa Mila deserves more than just a single post. The house really is exquisite. Our living space was about 10,000 sf. There's a second stairway leading to another wing, closed off by velvet cord. Several rooms had two sets of double doorways and were locked. Three of us did manage to unlock the internal door leading to the attached chapel, which was hot, musty and used for storage of misc. religious objects and IKEA housewares still in their original packaging.

The bathrooms had working bidets. (Try explaining those to your kids.) The hardwood floors creaked, especially in our room. Four of our friends mentioned ghosts as there seemed to be no reasonable explanation for doors opening and closing randomly at odd hours.

The villa is hidden from the street by 8' tall stone walls. It's reached by prying open two green, weathered barn doors then driving under a covered archway past the 400-year-old stables. A large field is to the left with the pool and gardens behind it. All of the rooms are dark, with ornate, heavy window treatments. At first we attributed the darkness to the house being kept shuttered up during the heat of the day. But during Week 2, when the heat wave passed, we realized that the walls themselves were painted in dark colors or were paneled. The hand painting was beautiful with many religious details or elaborate scenery. The grand foyer had swords and rifles hung above oil paintings of dour family members and a large marble shelf atop the lattice-covered radiator. There was also a low entry hall table, which we kept buried under sunscreen, insect repellent, guide books, maps, keys and shared receipts.

The room we spent the most time in was the smallest room, the library, which had reliable wifi, the lightest colored walls and the most amount of natural life. It held only one sofa and two small chairs so it was a real accomplishment to be seated comfortably!

The formal living room, which we alternatively drank limoncello in and let the kids use for crafting, had an enormous Phantom-of-the-Opera-style chandelier. It was covered in cobwebs, too. The floor was parquet tiles covered with throw rugs.

This is the fourth European villa we've rented and our first experience with the house manager living on site. She was well-intentioned and quite helpful, down to finding our fish-like friend an Olympic-sized pool to keep her conditioning intact for the Trans Tahoe Relay. She arranged for two different chefs to come in and cook for us, which was one of the highlights each week. However, The Pinks could not understand why she, or any of the other Italians we encountered, smoked. None of us could understand why she became unglued when the kids hauled the mattresses from the third floor to the first in order to have a mass sleepover in the music room, which was easily 20 degrees cooler than the third floor.

There's the de rigour pool on the property, where the kids spent a fair amount of time. Each house we've rented in Europe has the same cheap white plastic lawn chairs -- the stuff you see at Safeway -- and this was no exception. Why is this? Perhaps Americans hang out more in their yards than do Europeans?

In hindsight, the best part of the villa was its prime location for integration into (or observation of!) village life. It was at the end of the one-horse-town's main drag and adjacent to the murky Adige river. I loved being able to hand the kids a 20 Euro bill and asking them to return with pizza. I met a friend for coffee at La Boulange here in the burbs this week and noticed how noisy it was. At Cafe Teatro, Villa Bartolomea's equivalent, it would have been much quieter with people sitting together but not necessarily speaking animatedly, drinking their coffee slowly, not necessarily powering through breakfast.

As is typical in Europe, commercial hours are approximate and not set to optimize revenue. Shops are closed either Sundays or Monday mornings, sometimes both. In Modena, shops are closed Thursday afternoons. We wanted to buy a bottle of Aceto Balsamico Tradizionale di Modena and the shopkeeper in one of Modena's best-known food shops, although physically in her shop and speaking to us, would not open the door for us to purchase a hundred dollar bottle of vinegar.

I could write a book on the foods of Northern Italy. In fact, many books have been written on the subject. Instead, here, I'll tell you about three grocery stores near the villa. To get a grocery cart, you insert a Euro coin in a slot and the cart becomes untethered from the others. When you

return your cart the coin comes back to you. This is quaint. In Italian grocery stores you must bag your own groceries and pay for the bags. This is not quaint although it does encourage reuse.

Familia was 2 km east of the house. It was adequate, much like a large Trader Joe's. This is where we did our initial provisioning because of its proximity to the house. It's biggest drawback was its limited produce selection.

Galassia was 7 km north. It was like a large Safeway with the addition of basic housewares, that cheap patio furniture and appliances. I bought additional fans here during the Week 1 Heat Wave. We shopped here whenever we were going to get my favorite pesche gelato at L'Arte del Gelato.

We didn't discover Interspar, also 7 km north and near L'arte del Gelato, until the end of our trip, sadly. It's Costco without the membership. We should have provisioned there! Dry pasta was literally two aisles. I could never have imagined so many shapes and sizes of pasta. Truly. Beverages took up an entire aisle -- sodas, bottled water, juices. Cheese was one side of a refrigerated aisle, pork products being the other side of course.

And of course none of these places are open on Sundays.

A Glutton for Punishment

2011-08-09T08:55:00.000-07:00

Time is suspended when you travel by air. So odd, so uncomfortable is the experience that after returning from a long international trip I vow never to do it again.

But less than three months after we return I start planning the next adventure, shuffling the deck of exotic locales I must visit. I write this post on paper, somewhere over Indiana, during the 18th hour of a 26-hour trip with three connections. I am miserable. So are my children. Fortunately my husband has his sense of humor intact and we share a love of travel. Soon this will be forgotten, gone to the same place memories of childbirth go.

Travel is an addiction.

The Penny Ice Creamery

2011-08-06T18:32:00.000-07:00

Summer means ice cream. Or gelato. Or Popsicles.

The two youngest Pinks and I spent today in Santa Cruz with Rebel. We checked out her new puppy, her not-so-new renovations, her horses and an ice cream shop I'd read about, The Penny Ice Creamery.

I remain unimpressed. However, quite a crowd was there on Cedar St. in downtown Santa Cruz so I am clearly in the minority. This spot has been open just about a year and makes its own artisan ice cream. I had Strawberry Pink Peppercorn, Thing 2 and Rebel had Blackberry Sweet Corn and Thing 1 was repulsed.

Another summer checkoff complete.

Lake Garda

2011-08-03T11:48:00.000-07:00

Have you heard of this place? I had but knew very little about it. Lake Como, yup, know it. Been there and also George Clooney lives there. But Lake Garda? This turned out to be one of the hidden gems of our trip. In case you're wondering, Lake Garda is northwest of Verona, bordering the Dolomites. It's about 90 minutes east of Milan.

While staying in Villa Bartolomea we day tripped to Sirmione, at the very tip of the peninsula. It's an adorable lakeside town whose highlights are a 13th century moated castle and the remains of Grotte de Catullo. The town itself is filled with restaurants and boutiques, and at lunch I ate the local trout baked in a sea salt crust. The tableside serving grossed out the kids but the fish itself was tasty. What do they do with the salt once the fish is baked, anyway?

One shop had a darling girl's dress in its window displayed alongside a matching purse. Thing 1 and I fell in love with it and then discovered that the purse was actually the packaging for the women's bikini. Dave offered the bikini to Eldest Daughter and thus it was a win for both Pinks. The bikini is, um, very European in cut, and looks fabulous on her. I'm not sure we would have bought it, though, had she tried it on first. I'm fairly sure Dave has not seen it on her yet.

The day we visited Sirmione was easily in the low 90s. Given that the highest point in the Dolomites is over 10,000 feet, I expected Lake-Tahoe-temperature water but no, it was much warmer. I wish we'd brought our bathing suits so we could do more than just dip our toes in the water. Leeann and her kids rented a paddle boat with a slide off the back. How fun would that have been?! And she did a long open-water swim in the lake because that's what she does.

We went back to the lake after the villa rental was over, this time staying at a German chain hotel in Lazise near the Gardaland amusement park. The hotel was new and modern and filled with beautiful young blond families. It looked as though we stepped into a gathering of German models. Our bodies nearly went into shock for the lack of mosquitoes! They were rather fierce at the villa.

We spent one day at Gardaland, Italy's sorry attempt at the Disney magic. The kids had fun although Dave and I thought it closer to Children's Fairyland than Disneyland. In the kids' opinion, the best part was the lack of concern for safety. Thing 2, the most petite of our children, was able to ride on some seriously scary roller coasters. We asked one Italian how they could run such rides. His response? "In America you sue when there is an accident. In Italy we say, 'How tragic.'" That about sums it up. Please no judging my parenting; Dave rode them with her.

The town of Lazise is nearly as adorable as Sirmione. A Scaligeri castle sits on the southern end and its 11th century stone walls surround the town. There is an enclosed fishing harbor and stone church. We had dinner overlooking the lake, the kids ate the requisite gelato and I managed to buy two more pair of shoes. We also explored Bardolino, which has large olive trees bordering its lakeside promenade. This area is known for its olive oil. There's also a town further north called Limone sul Garda, known for its lemons, but it was too long of a drive for me to torture the family with given our two days at the lake before returning to the states.

Will you remember Lake Garda now?

First two photos: credit to Neeracha

Venice. Not the beach.

2011-07-31T10:26:00.000-07:00

Venice is confusing to navigate, over-crowded with tourists and miserably hot. Smelly too.

Boy was I surprised when we had a perfect day there with The Pinks and the Singer and the Donell families. The Singers spent a week there previously and Sara was brilliant with the map. This particular visit showed me, at least, a charming view of the city especially through the observations of our children.

One of the smartest things I did was to pre-arrange a Context Travel tour. Monica Chojnacka was ours alone and she customized our three-hour walk to our family's interests: the Jewish Ghetto and family life in Venice.

Monica, a Stanford-educated, American art historian married to a Venetian man, has daughters the same age as our own. She writes books and has taught at universities in both the US and overseas. During our walk we visited the five synagogues in Venice, only two of which remain in use today. From 1516 to 1866 Venice's Jewish population was confined to an islet of the Cannaregio district, locked in at night and guarded. The world's first ghetto was here and the word ghetto comes from the Italian get or foundry, which previously occupied the location.

The tallest buildings in Venice were once in the ghetto; as the

Jewish population grew there was no place expand but vertically. While the neighborhood is no longer solely Jewish, there are reminders of those days: a few street signs in Hebrew, indentations in the stone house facades where a mezuzah would fit, two Kosher restaurants, some Judaica shops (Eldest Daughter bought a piece of art on her parashah). There are fewer than 400 Jews living in Venice today; in the mid 1700s there were about 5,000.

Monica's daughters study both Greek and Latin in school, and their school days and year are about the same as ours. One of the upsides to having a personal tour guide is that she answered our very pressing questions: the proper direction to stand when using a seatless commode and housing prices (comparable to NYC and SF, in case you were wondering). As a bonus, she knew where all the bathrooms were and even took our kids. Let's not underestimate the importance of this during a summer walking tour. She even showed us one of the places that the gondolas cross the Grand Canal, and that you can take them for less than a Euro instead of walking to the nearest bridge, which is often not so near. Eldest Daughter was thrilled when our tour ended at Lush, the UK-based hand-made soap and cosmetics store. Clearly Monica knows her stuff! I highly recommend Context Travel.

From there we made our way to Piazza San Marco and met up with our friends for a drink at Caffe Florian. Everyone who is anyone has had a drink here; it's been open since 1720! We had Bellinis while the kids had $14 Cokes. Oy! In addition to the couvert, there was a $8 fee for dining while the orchestra played outside.

And then the kids chased the pigeons. Do you think they'll remember the overpriced Cokes or the pigeons?!

Our next stop was the Bridge of Signs, which passes over the Rio di Palazzo and connected the old prisons to the interrogation rooms in the Doge's Palace. The view from the Bridge of Sighs was the last view of Venice that convicts saw before their imprisonment. The bridge name comes from the suggestion that prisoners would sigh at their final view of beautiful Venice through the window before being taken down to their cells. A local legend says that lovers will be granted everlasting love and bliss if they kiss on a gondola at sunset under the bridge. The bridge and the walls of the palazzo facing towards the bridge are under construction and it was a disappointment.

We had a late dinner in Venice, magical in the dark of course, and got back to the villa well after midnight. I especially liked seeing Venice after dark: you can peek into the houses.

The pictures here are of Thom and Sara, and Thing 1 at Caffe Florian, our whole entourage in Piazza San Marco, the extremely photogenic Donell children, and the view of the Grand Canal as seen when we got off the vaporetto. Photo credits: Thom Singer

A Letter From The Pinks

2011-07-28T13:28:00.000-07:00

Dear Mom,

Thanks for ~~dragging us to Italy again this summer. We do have pasta and pizza in the US, you know! Did we really need to travel 7,000 miles each way to eat it?~~ taking us on a wonderful trip to the Veneto region of Italy this summer.

Three weeks without American TV was ~~torture with a capital T~~ a nice break from all that educational programming ~~reality drivel~~ we've been watching and probably good for our eyes, too.

We will be forever grateful for ~~being forced to eat weird gelato flavors such as Puffo (What is Puffo anyway?!)~~ the opportunity to eat gelato every day, and sometimes twice.

Seeing the insides of all those small-town duomos was so inspirational that we can't wait to study Renaissance art at college. In fact, one of us has already started researching schools that offer a minor in it. NOT. Enough is enough, Mom. Are you and Dad magnets for these places?

We ~~will have to be dragged, kicking and screaming, to do this again in two years.~~ can't wait to go back to Europe with you and Dad. In fact, we're counting the minutes.

Love,

Your ~~exhausted, overstimulated~~ Darling Daughters

Check Off #2: Pop Up General Store

2011-07-25T20:49:00.000-07:00

The Pop Up General Store is where professional chefs, mostly Chez Panisse-trained, sell the food they make and love to eat. It's in Oakland on Wednesday nights every three to four weeks.

This has been on my list for a while, too. Frankly, it was not worth a trip all the way into Oakland. We had Pizza Politana for dinner there and browsed the stalls, maybe 15 in total. I bought a loaf of expensive bread that the kids ate in the car on the way home. We ran into a family friend. And we left.

To salvage our trip into Oakland we stopped at Scream Sorbet on Telegraph Ave. Thing 1 enjoyed the Strawberry Lemon sorbet while we were in the city a few weeks ago and on this evening she had the Seascape Strawberry, Eldest Daughter had the Tangelo and I had the Apricot. The sorbets get very close to the real fruit taste. You don't have to go into Oakland to get Scream; they do quite a few local farmer's markets, including my parents'. Are you reading this, Mom?

Laundry & Packing

2011-07-22T04:33:00.000-07:00

We're at the villa today doing laundry, packing and getting ready for an early departure tomorrow. The chef is coming in tonight; we'll be up late again I'm sure.

Yesterday was one of the best days of the trip: Venice. We didn't get home until well after midnight and I'll blog more about it once I get home and download the pictures. Summary: perfect weather, a great tour guide and lots of laughs. This was the first time we've been to Venice with the kids and we really enjoyed the magic of their discovery of this special city.

I can't believe our two weeks here are coming to an end. We'll be at Lake Garda and in the Dolomites a few days before returning to the states.

This week's friends were Dave's fraternity brothers and their families from Austin and LA. I will miss the quirkiness of this house but not the haunted rooms. I will miss the smell of line dried clothes but not the effort involved in doing it. I will miss living in a village but not the mosquitos that come with the riverfront location. I will miss our friends and The Pinks having constant playmates. I will miss the daily gelato but not scrutinizing the Monopoly money coins in order to pay for it. Everything less than a Euro looks the same to me! I will miss exploring new places but not reading a map every single time we leave the house.

More soon. With photos.

Every day, sometimes twice

2011-07-19T09:38:00.000-07:00

There are so many things to love about Italy!

Here are some of our current favorites, in no particular order.

The people watching. The well-coiffed and heeled and not-well-coiffed. In big cities the women wear short shorts and high heels. In small towns they wear mumus and Birkenstock knockoffs. I am still working up the nerve to pop pictures when I see these amazing people.

The gelato. This is our current favorite spot. Cafe Teatro, a block from our villa, is pretty good, though. Eldest Daughter, Thing 1 and I have been eating limone and fragola (strawberry). Thing 2 favors stracciatela (chocolate chip). Our friend Kate has pledged to try a new flavor each time. Thus far she has had Puffo (Smurf blue and anise tasting) and Nutella.

The pizza. 3,5 euros buys a pizza big enough to feed two children or one hungry adult.

The shoes. I added pair of purple Tod's loafers to my collection. Need I say more?

The pace. I fear that Italy's economy is not far behind that of Greece.

The architecture. The duomo in Verona, completed in 1187, was just average looking on the outside. The inside was breathtaking, jawdropping. The medieval paintings, frescoes and marble font made this a worthwhile haul across town. Oh yes, and 4pm mass was going on, too. Thom and Sara got the checkoff. The Arena is worth another post alone.

Small Town Life

2011-07-17T01:17:00.000-07:00

Villa Bartolomea. A one horse town. There are two pizzarias, one full-service restaurant, two bar / bakeries (who came up with that combo?!), a post office, a dumpy shoe store, a pharmacy, an elementary school with a large World War II memorial in front, a huge church, a community center which seems to only be open from 9p - midnight, and Cafe Teatro, the gelato / watering hole.

The villagers find us a curiosity. They are polite yet talk about us as we walk by. Last night, walking home from pizza pickup, I was treated to a parade. There were easily 300 villagers singing Ave Maria and escorting a float of an uplit, gilded Mary.

The residents mostly rely on their bikes for transportation, even during last week's heat wave. I saw a couple riding side-by-side holding hands - adorable! Jill, Wally and Dan, some of our friends who were here last week, are serious bikers and they rented serious bikes, exercise bikes.

The villa sits on the far end of the main drag, next to the Aidge River. This sounds more scenic than it is; the river is as wide as the Mississippi and from all indications, it is a dumping ground for the products of our bathrooms. I did ride a bike alongside it this morning and as long as I focused on the farms to the sides, it was a pretty ride.

The villa is huge and antiques filled. Most of it has incredible, hand-painted murals. You could stare at the ceilings forever. The oddities make the house fun: the kids play pool for hours on end, the kitchen is three rooms, the wifi only works in the library, formal dining room and billiards room, the front door is locked by a forged iron lever. The outlets are either two- or three-pronged. This is only a challenge when we are moving fans around at night but it is funny. We take standardization for granted. The house manager explained the workings of the villa to me in an hour-long briefing. I nearly lost it.

The original villa is 400 years old; the residence we are staying in is about 130 years old. The photos here were taken by Jill and Neeracha. There is a chapel adjoining the house and also stables on the property, which appear to be now used for storage.

Cafe Teatro is a fun spot. Monday night we enjoyed the local cover band. Their version of Hotel California had us in hysterics; they had about 70% of the words right. We sang along and it was another perfect mome nt. Again, the whole town seemed to be out: teens in packs, hunched-over elderly couples, young families, women with red hair, the shade that does not occur in nature.

Jill and Neeracha have been blogging, fortunately. I have been trying hard to limit my online time.

Check Off #1: Roli Roti

2011-07-15T19:24:00.000-07:00

I'm working my way through my list. I don't generally goal set; I bumble through life trying to cover the basics of staying happily married, actively participating in a family that raises thoughtful children who will leave the world a better place and remaining gainfully employed. Thom tells us that goals that are not written down are just wishes. So this is the summer I'm working my way through a list.

First on my list was getting me one of those dang rotisserie chickens.

There is a rotisserie chicken truck at the Pleasanton Farmer's Market. But we don't go to that market. It's 15 miles from the house and we have a perfectly fine market in our town. Yet on many Saturdays I have driven past it on the way to a Bar or Bat Mitzvah, looked longingly at it, and been unable to pick one up. The way I get this dreamy look in my eyes then drool when we get within two blocks of it drives my daughter nuts.

This time I did the unthinkable: I drove there just to get a chicken. Seriously, the bird was good. The potatoes, which roasted in the drippings and then were salted, were amazing. But even better than the food itself was the smell of the roasting chickens. It took me back to the markets in France. The line was long. The day was hot. The bird was worth it.

Here's where you go to get your own.

Taking One for the Team

2011-07-11T20:49:00.000-07:00

Independence Day began with me rousing the troops and urging them to get their sleepy bodies out of bed so I could do the sheets and we could flee the mountains. We'd been up late the night before watching the fireworks at Squaw. Fortunately we had a great view from our deck and tried unsuccessfully to muster up some empathy for the many who had to navigate out of the parking lot and the valley that night. We're so spoiled. Ski in, ski out.

We got home in time for me to make two apple pies from scratch and to head to the Greenan's extended family 4th of July party. Jim and Pam Greenan had eight children together; my friend Paige is one of them. Over time I've become friendly with her sisters, too. This occasion brings all the siblings and their families together plus the families of a few who married in. There were maybe 60 of us today?

Jim and some of his adult children skied at Alpine Meadows Saturday. We skied with Jim a few times this season; he even sledded with us at Granlibakken dressed in a suit, having come from church one Sunday. Sadly, he did not join us on this occasion as he had a little too much fun Saturday and ended up taking the express route home from the mountains. This I can empathize with; my father has taken this form of transportation as well.

The high point of the Greenan party was the softball game, both kids and adults. The low point was my nine-year-old fielding a ball that got me out. Observations: most adult men hit, catch and throw very well, my husband included. Under fours do not get called out. When left to their own devices, little girls will make daisy chains. After participating in this family event I get why people have big families.

It was Africa hot outside and the pool got a lot of use. We ate dinner before the game and dessert afterwards. There were lots of babies around and I got a good does of baby bellies and virgin feet. Yum.

Hello from Milan

2011-07-08T08:44:00.000-07:00

We're here. And oh what an adventure it's been. Does anyone have an easy time flying overseas these day?

We ended up driving ourselves to the airport. The car service called to say they were running an hour late as their driver got a speeding ticket leaving his home.

We were delayed 90 minutes in Philadelphia while a mechanical error was being taken care of.

At the Milan airport the ATM ate our card and would not give it back. Patelco forgot to note that we were taking it to Italy and the only way to get a new card is for them to mail it to our home address in 8-10 working days. How inconvenient do you think it is to have no access to cash while on vacation? Especially when you owe the owner of your rental house $2,000 tomorrow?

The good news is that Milan is as enchanting as ever. Eldest Daughter slept 16 hours last night after sleeping just 30 minutes in the previous 31 hours. I slept 13. Our hotel, Boscola Excedra, is hip, clean and modern in a museum-quality way. We're all adjusted to the time change now and looking forward to meeting up with our friends in Villabartolomea tomorrow.

Endless Winter

2011-07-07T16:22:00.000-07:00

Because we're completely nuts, we headed to Squaw for to ski this weekend.

Summer skiing? Silly idea. Ski season is over. But this was fun, if just for the accomplishment of the checkoff. We've never been up to Tahoe over the 4th of July weekend. In general, we avoid holiday weekends up here. Still, this was one we had to do.

We went to a BBQ in Truckee on Saturday afternoon. Aaron is a friend of my brothers. Until yesterday I thought they met in college. Apparently not; they met in San Francisco their first year out of college. Aaron and Jessica's backyard is a playground: swings and hammocks for both adults and kids, a fire pit, a BMX-style race track, horse shoe pits for adults and kids, a sandbox, and various other activities. A bunch of these people knew my brother and we were glad to pop by and meet some locals. I don't expect I'll ever see them again, though, as they regularly ski parts of Squaw I never even knew existed.

From there we went to the Martis Valley. Wow! Martis Camp is a resort community with its own back door chair lift into Northstar, golf course, recreation centers ++. Friends invited us to join them for Family Night at The Big Red Barn. A cover band had the adults and kids on their feet for hours and inside the Barn was a family-friendly restaurant, a billiards room, an art studio, a movie theater and a bowling alley with a multi-pool area adjacent. The main clubhouse contains an adult pool plus a nice restaurant, spa, fitness center and meeting space. It looks like the Grand Californian.

The place is gorgeous. The few homes that have been built already are mountain-modern style on mostly acre parcels. Our friends' daughter became engaged this weekend and the wedding will likely be at Martis Camp. Who could blame them?!

Sunday we got up early enough to ski. There better coverage than I'd envisioned and it felt like late Spring skiing. What does summer skiing feel like anyway? Whenever I've been injured, though, it's been on that heavy, slushy stuff so I didn't ski all that long. The crowd was not unlike that of the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk: rock and roll t-shirts, teeny weeny bikinis, beer bellies and lots of tattoos. We ditched our gloves soon after the above picture was taken; it was too warm to even have our hands covered.

The highlight of the afternoon was watching the Lake Cushing Crossing. This annual event brings together 50 costumed skiers go down a steep run and glide across the putrid pond at the base of KT. Fewer than 10 make it across and the rest plunge into the slimy pond. Prizes are awarded for best costume and best form on both snowboards and skis. Two gorillas crossed today; a naked snowboarder did not. It was hilarious to watch, truly hilarious.

I get attached.

2011-07-03T20:11:00.000-07:00

My father has always wanted to do something more adventurous than just backpacking. He had long joked that the year he turned 40 would be the year our family would leave our suburban life and sail around the world. In reality, his 40th year was the year we moved to Alaska. I was 15.

It was an IBM assignment and we knew it would only be for 3-5 years. My parents advised me not to tell people in Anchorage that we were short-timers. That would prevent them from getting to know us and reduce our chances of developing meaningful friendships. And so I kept my mouth shut.

Little did I know that the friendships my parents made during that time would grow to be among the most enduring of their adult lives.

Now I'm an adult and this has new meaning. I get attached to people. My friend Denise moved to Phoenix. How easy do you think it is to make friends in the hospital when you are both antepartum patients on full bedrest and hopped up on muscle relaxants to the point that you can barely speak? And the last time I was in Arizona she had the audacity to be busy laboring with her second child! Another friend of mine, a Chevron wife, moved to Houston. I liked her, too.

Last Spring another friend told me they were being transferred. I should have seen this coming as they'd never lived any place longer than four years. But I got really attached to her; she and her husband are smart, interesting, fun people. Every now and then you meet someone very special, someone you really connect with. For me at least, those people are few and far between,. She is one of those people. I tried hard not to pull away from her while the corporate assignment deck was being shuffled. And honestly, I don't think I did: I was as busy as any of us are.

After what seemed like forever, she phoned and told me that, as it turns out, and after many anxious days and nights, they are staying put until their visas expire. Were I not on site at my client, I would have screamed many decibels louder than I did. I am happy for them. And I am happy for me.

Bittersweet

2011-06-30T19:25:00.001-07:00

I've just wrapped up a four-year consulting project. It's hard to believe the assignment went four years and also that those years passed so quickly.

I had lunch today with Heather, my client bookend. We worked on the project together, each having different stakeholders. I left lunch sad, having conveniently forgotten that the end of a client engagement also means saying goodbye to the people at the client. She became my real friend. We have a lot in common outside of work (same age, same twins plus one, same candor, same work experience) so I'm sure we'll stay in touch.

Next up is digging in on Triumph Dining, the company Dave, Bobby and I bought together. Triumph Dining is the publisher of restaurant and grocery guides for people who are gluten free, either by lifestyle choice or by allergy. It's an interesting, growing market with a loyal following. Let me know what you think. Read our blog, subscribe to our newsletter and tell your gluten-free friends about us.

I'll also do some general tech consulting. I really do love my work and am fortunate to be able to make a living at it.

In the meantime I'm waist high in laundry and starting to think seriously about packing for Italy.

My vacation is beginning without me. Again.

2011-06-29T13:49:00.000-07:00

Lynn just emailed me, asking why it's been a week since I blogged. No good reason really. I'm just busy juggling the kids, the husband and work.

We're heading out of town soon. But some of our vacation peeps have already left. This happened two years ago, too! The first family left the Bay today. Two more leave Saturday. The fourth leaves Tuesday and then we finally leave.

Neeracha did a post about all the electronics they are taking. I then challenged my Facebook friends to guess how many Internet-enabled devices five families will have in total. Even though neither Dave nor I are taking computers, it's going to be a healthy number as a few of our friends have jobs that don't lend themselves to unplugging or are doing business trips before or after this vacation. That's one of the reasons we always rent a house with reliable wifi. Eldest Daughter may bring her netbook, which will be good for looking up random phone numbers, mapping, modifying travel plans, banking.

Here are some of the things I need to do before we depart:

1. Mani/pedi
2. Laundry, pack
3. Arrange transport to and from SFO
4. Buy children's Tylenol, Motrin and Benadryl
5. Buy snacks for plane
6. Pack carryons for 9-year-olds
7. Take 9-year-olds to dollar store to let them buy $5 in in-flight entertainment
8. Narrow down books to bring, both travel and general reading
9. Load up iPhones, iTouch and Nano with movies, music and books on tape
10. Call credit card companies and make sure they know we are leaving the country
11. Eat everything perishable in the fridge
12. Finish editing childhood friend's book and mail the manuscript back to him

Anyone have an opinion on offering the 13-year-old Tylenol PM to help her adjust to the time change?

Skiing and Swimming

2011-06-22T19:24:00.000-07:00

We went swimming at a local country club with some friends. There we ran into our Tahoe neighbor, John. Our twins are friends with their twins; we know the parents quite well.

I was wearing a sundress and a big floppy hat with sunglasses. John looked at me blankly for a few seconds after I greeted him. Finally he figured out who I was. I look very different decked out for downhill or apres ski in long johns than I do in the summer. It was context.

The kids happily picked up where they left off last winter while I caught up with John.

This got me thinking about the similarities between skiing and swimming.

1. It's a great physical outlet. In the water the kids race, play games, get wild with acrobatics. They do the same on the mountain.

2. There's a good dose of freedom involved. At the pool the kids run around without close adult supervision, just like they do in our development at Tahoe. Their age provides us all with this luxury.

3. They eat. A lot. At the country club they belly on up to the snack bar. At Tahoe they raid one of our fridges.

There is the same parenting high that comes from hearing your children laugh, taking in every last drop of the pleasures of childhood.

A very Special Olympics

2011-06-19T09:58:00.000-07:00

Not much sleep was to be had last weekend between the riding, the graduation parties (two, not our kids) and The Olympic Club Ski Team Awards Dinner.

Late Saturday we decided to volunteer at the Northern California Special Olympics Bike the Bridges ride on Sunday morning. Handing out t shirts and checking in registrants was no big deal; getting to the ride, 30 minutes from our house, at 7am, was. This involved getting up at 5:45a and doing a Peet's run then meeting up with the friends we recruited to volunteer with us en route to the ride. It was so worth it.

Apparently this was a police department sponsored event. There riders were mainly police officers of many different types: UC Berkeley, BART, El Cerrito, Oakland, Hercules, Martinez. There were also a few fire fighters there including my dad's (horse) riding friend, Peter, who I barely recognized in his biking gear. Usually I see Peter in leather and more leather.

I've spent the last three years working with technologies used for public safety. So when the emergency response vehicles showed up I was very excited in the nerdiest of ways.

After our gig was up we had breakfast at a local greasy spoon, Victoria's Cafe. It was exactly what we expected and just what I needed.

Sam & Leslie & Prince & Dad

2011-06-15T06:01:00.000-07:00

I did something last weekend that I don't do often enough: ride with my dad.

He took me on a six-mile loop on the most glorious of early summer days. The ground squirrels came out of their tunnels and stood tall on their hind legs checking us out. Dozens of them. Peering at us with their beady little eyes.

Sam and Prince carried us to the top of a nearby ridge and the 360 degree view was spectacular. The weather was perfect for riding, too, upper 60s and sunny. This meant we could ride without jackets and it wasn't misery for the horses.

Sam is very good to me. Yes, Sam the horse. He knows I'm an occasional rider and he lets me think I'm in charge even though we both know he is. I give him conflicting riding commands and he does nothing, just waiting for me to get it right so he knows what I mean. You can see what a novice I am from the picture: I'm wearing a helmet.

My dad has been an active camper, hiker and backpacker since we moved to California in 1969. He enjoys the horses because they take him places not easily reached by foot. After the peacefulness of the ride I see his point. I still do not understand, however, why I was so sore the next day when Sam did all the work.

The Parent Trap

2011-06-12T12:33:00.000-07:00

How many books do you think have been written on parenting? Lots. In fact, there are 62,604 listed on Amazon right now.

I've read my share of parenting books: 123 Magic, How to Potty Train your Child in Less than a Day, Parenting the Highly Spirited Child, Listen so Your Child will Speak and Speak so your Child will Listen. Parenting with Love and Logic, Playful Parenting, Connection Parenting, The Attachment Parenting Bible. On and on.

It's much more interesting to see how other parents do it, though.

As you know from this post, we were down south over the holiday weekend. There I observed one aspect of my SIL and BIL's parenting style during a large BBQ to celebrate my BIL's birthday.

A refresher: my nieces are 14 and 15. Their daughters' friends call them by their first names. It wasn't just the children of longtime family friends; it was all of the friends in their daughters' peer group. Not once during the weekend did I hear any reference to Dr. or Mrs. Conwisar.

I asked them about it.

Phil told me that their approach is to make their home a comfortable place where the girls want to hang out. Part of that is familiarity with the parents. They made a conscious decision to go this route and I applaud them for it.

Do we think this decision has geographic roots? I can hardly imagine my friend Kim, in Georgia, being called anything except for Mrs. Drew.

Dave and I are generally called Mr and Mrs. Morris. Unless the child is part of the European vacation clan, I've known their parents since before they were born or I've bathed them, I'm Mrs. Morris. We were up at Tahoe last summer at a restaurant with my brother's family and some of their friends. The friends' six-year-old addressed me by my first name. I said to her: Please call me Mrs. Morris. She gave me a funny look. C'est la vie.

The rabbi of the synagogue we have belonged to for the last eight years is my cousin. I went through a very short period of calling him by his first name. But then I reconsidered and went back to calling him rabbi as I think it's a sign of respect.

What do you think? Is it a personal decision? A geographically trended one?

Looking to our summer

2011-06-07T21:08:00.000-07:00

Summer's here and our summer vacation is not far off.

We just bought our airline tickets, which was an ordeal in and of itself. The fares have been quite high this year so we took our chances and waited until fairly close to our departure. The thing is: we were flexible. Very flexible. We didn't much care which of 20 or cities we flew in and out of. We were happy to sightsee wherever we might land and work our way to Northern Italy.

So the tickets are now ours and I begin reading in earnest. What do we want to see? Where do we want to eat? Where are the UNESCO World Heritage Sites?

And then there are the logistics: arrange house sitter, stop mail, alert credit card companies, rent car, decide which books to bring, download movies on iPods/iPhones/iTouch, arrange for ride to airport, enable international calling on our cell phones, gather travel plans of families who will be joining us, send last payment to Italian homeowner, get Euros.

Jill and Wally were over for dinner tonight and they asked what part of our vacation we like best. Eldest Daughter likes shopping. Thing 2 likes the gelato rule: once a day, sometimes twice. I like seeing things through other people's eyes; I like the conversations we have at the end of a day of sightseeing. Everyone has a different takeaway. I am still in awe that Thing 1 fell in love with the Malaga Picasso Museum. I like seeing the kids belly laugh and smile big like Thing 2 is doing here on Las Rambas in Barcelona.

The past two years have flown by; it seems like just last summer we were in Spain. We started doing this when our twins were 3 1/2. It's much easier to travel with them now although it didn't seem all that much work back then. It was simply a matter of schlepping them where we wanted to go. Now they're 9 1/2. We don't even have to entertain them when they wake up in the middle of the night while adjusting to the time change.

This year is a little different, too. I am wrapping up a four-year-long client engagement before we leave. I'm excited and also looking forward to a new mental challenge or two when we return to the states.

Back to my books.

Shalom uvracha Rabbi Rick

2011-06-04T21:59:00.000-07:00

I went to services at the synagogue last night. There are services every Friday night but I rarely go; I'd rather tuck our kids into bed then climb into our bed with my book and unwind from a busy week.

Last night was different: it was Rabbi Rick's last Friday night service on our bimah. There were more people there than I've ever before seen at the temple at one time and this includes Yom Kippur, when even the barely Jewish Jews show up. Joining him was the contemporary Jewish singer / songwriter Julie Silver. Wow. It was a beautiful, moving, musical service complete with drumming by a professional musician member of our congregation, Kelly Fasman. In all the hours I've spent at services, I've never heard a drum beat. It was not at all out of place.

Rabbis Laura and Rick are moving to Fresno, in California's Central Valley, where he will lead a congregation there. Laura has a rabbinical job within the Union of Reform Judaism that she can do from anywhere. Last night brought lots of tears and lots of laughs. I was sad more than anything else and had to keep reminding myself to breathe. He has been a wonderful rabbi for our young family. We will miss him.

I'm scared now. I fear that the temple, without Rabbi Rick, will no longer feel like home to our family. I'm fear that the melodies of my childhood, which this rabbi has brought into the Three Pinks lives, will be forgotten.

I don't want to be a wandering Jew.

Phil's Phabulous and Phifty!

2011-06-01T16:24:00.000-07:00

We're just back from a phun Memorial Day weekend in LA with my sister-in-law and her phamily.

Her husband turned phifty and we celebrated in style!

Dave and I had this great idea to break up the phive-hour drive with a stop at Six Phlags Magic Kingdom. This was brilliant: phour hours of well-behaved children in the car and happy for an early departure then three hours of LA sun and phun on the roller coasters. We arrived at the Conwisar Resort & Spa in time for dinner.

On Saturday Dave golfed with the birthday boy and his entourage, Thing 2 swam and swam and swam and I took Eldest Daughter and Thing 1 to see the Hollywood Walk of Fame. We walked from Hollywood and Vine to Grauman's Chinese Theater and the Kodak Theater (with attached shopping complex) and back. It was the phirst time I'd ever done it. There were many, many stars I did not recognize. The first eight stars were set in terrazzo there in 1958. Today there are nearly 2,500 stars. As a sidebar and in case you were wondering: the Vine end of Hollywood Blvd. is rather seedy. Who knew there was an entire store of pole-dancing shoes?!

Dinner that night was phive couples at Boa in Beverly Hills. Khristina got her picture popped with the TMZ boys out phront. Dinner was very good -- steak and traditional sides. The people watching was even better. See and be seen anyone?! In LA people aren't even subtle; they just walk around the restaurant staring at the tables to see who is there.

Sunday we did the extended phamily and phriends birthday celebration - about 100 for a swim party. My SIL is such a seemingly effortless entertainer and we actually talked about it. As she put it: You work. My full-time job is my family. I plan our social life. This explains why her house really is like a resort and spa, and why every dang party she throws is noteworthy. She had Mexican phood brought in and even Thing 1, who is notoriously picky, woofed down a few tacos.

Thing 2 had been in the pool for the better part of two days at this point and lost it toward the end of the evening. Her phingers and toes were raw and waterlogged and she managed to get a sunburn in an odd place even thought she was thoroughly coated in SPF 30 all weekend. She slept like a rock.

I'd like to tell you that I had three very hard workouts in their home gym. But I didn't. We were having too much phun.

I did try their new TRX suspension system, though. I really enjoy their phriends. They are mostly Jewish, unlike ours, and a lot of those who work do so in entertainment. It's a great crowd to be with and act like a phly on the wall.

Michelle and Phil have a different relationship with their daughters' phriends than we do with our daughters' phriends. I love observing different parenting styles and will blog about that another time. We're all bumbling through this together!

Our present to Phil was the completion of his daughter's book, the latest in the My Friend Paris series. How do you like the birthday cake? Phil's been very serious about his personal training these last few years. Even the party phavors kept with the theme.

I was a little sad to leave Monday morning but not that sad knowing we'll be back in August. And if we're lucky, a phew of the more distant cousins will join us in Verona this summer.

My hands are stained.

2011-05-26T19:33:00.000-07:00

And I don't much care. I've just pitted four pounds of cherries.

Incredible!

Paige's family has a cherry fetish. Celia lives in Brentwood and calls in the sister wives as soon as Maggiore's opens. The sister wives and their young children make a run for the farm and pick and pick and pick. And eat and eat and eat. This was Celia's second trip to Maggiore's this season.

After several years of hearing about this tradition and Paige sharing some of her precious cherries with me, my mom, kids and I tagged along.

Tip 1: Go during the week. We had the orchard (and ladders) nearly to ourselves.

Tip 2: Bring cash.

Tip 3: Pick fast. It takes a long time to pick cherries.

Tip 4: Get over your fear

of heights and climb the ladder. The ripest cherries are up high.

Tip 5: Moderate the amount you eat while picking. It is an hour's drive home, after all.

In the end there were five mothers and 13 kids between us. I think cherries are so sought-after because the season is so dang short. The Coral Cherry, the one we were after, has a 10-day season. It was surreal standing amongst so many loaded cherry trees. Paige described it as The Garden of Eden. I have to agree.

We were so efficient that we had time to go to Chan's for You Pick strawberries. As much as I love cherries, the strawberries were even better and unlike any I'd ever had. Warmed by the sun and then popped straight into my mouth, they were the sweetest fruit I've ever had. The kids were amazed at the bounty and quickly gathered the equivalent of a flat.

Celia was kind enough to have us all to dinner at her house (which she so smartly prepared in advance) and then we hoofed it back to our suburb for Open House.

I can't wait to go back for more strawberries. Who's in?

M's Bat Mitzvah

2011-05-24T18:12:00.000-07:00

Yes, I went to another one!

This time I went with my parents and some of their friends. The Bat Mitzvah (that's a noun in this instance, referring to the person) was the daughter of my childhood friend, Wendy. I'm sure I can find a picture of me and Wendy at one of our BatM's if I look hard enough.

When we walked into the synagogue on Saturday I realized that it was also Wendy and her husband's anniversary. Sixteen years ago many of these same people stood on the golf course at Diablo Country Club and watched the two of them under the chuppah.

This was another B'nai Mitzvah - a double service. This picture is of M carrying the Torah around the synagogue; Wendy is behind her. The other Bat Mitzvah inserted a bit of humor in the service; her friends led everyone in a Justin Bieber song. It was, um, different.

The service brought me to tears not just because M did a beautiful job but because there were some very sick members of their family there beating the odds. Wendy's mom, M's grandma, has been gone ten years now and her absence was painful; Sandy was a force to be reckoned with, an amazing matriarch. The synagogue was filled with old family friends who, fortunately, have stuck by Wendy's father. Wendy is one strong cookie. She was weeks away from having her second child when her mom passed and the eulogy she gave at her mom's funeral was among the most heart-wrenching things I have ever seen.

It was strange to be the kid. People kept asking about my kids and I was just trying to behave myself with my parents and their friends.

The Pinks had packed day with two community theater performances and softball Saturday so I skipped the big party as this simcha was on the other side of the Bay.

I'm jazzed!

2011-05-22T18:10:00.000-07:00

I'm a consultant: I make my living taking care of whatever keeps my clients awake at night professionally. And I've been doing this for 12 years now. Consulting is all about giving. Whatever is best for the client is what I provide.

Last week I did something amazing: I attended a conference where it was all about what I do. My former client Steve Gershik orchestrated DemandCon and I am grateful. So grateful. It was the best thing I have done for myself professionally in a very long time.

I've worked dozens of conferences and until last week had never been the target audience. It was amazing -- the speakers talked about things that are important to my clients and to my own business. I learned new ways to provide the services I've become known for. I met people who do the same thing I do, both in-house and on a consulting basis.

Jill Konrath was hilarious as she told us how to sell to busy people. Thom Singer did his song and dance on networking skills. I left before he got to his trademark Kate story; it makes me cry every time. Rick Altman told us why most of our presentations suck and gave us pointers on fixing them. I learned new uses for LinkedIn. Ardath Albee talked about storytelling in business. Steve Bernstein covered customer loyalty. Jon Miller gave us his view of marketing automation. Greg Ott at Demandbase showed us how his company can serve up custom content to the visitors to your web site by knowing who they are in advance. Brilliant stuff!

I am so psyched to give these things more thought and put some of them to work for my clients!

Steve -- you are the man. Thank you.

Run, run, as fast as you can ...

2011-05-16T14:01:00.000-07:00

With 100,000 other people for the 100th running of the Bay to Breakers. That's was our Sunday morning save for the running part.

San Francisco's famed foot race goes from the Bay side of the city to the Breakers (or ocean) side of the city, 12km total. This year a Moroccan male won it in 34:26 and the top female finisher did it in 39:12. We hadn't even crossed the start line by the time the winners had claimed their victories. That's how much of a zoo it was.

The kids were not wild about this family adventure, which began with a 5:45a wake up call. They disliked being hit in the face repeatedly with tortillas en route to the start. They disliked the San Francisco micro-climates that ranged from 60F and sunny to 45F with rain blowing sideways. They found the Porto potties unclean and the 46 hairy naked men they counted along the way inappropriate. Duh! At least they liked the costumes: the butterfly centipede, the gorillas and Ghost Busters, the Alcatraz escapees, the Smurfs, the Royals and the Power Rangers.

The above picture is of Thing 1 taking a little snooze on Dave's lap on the shuttle from the finish line back to the BART station.

Another day in the life of a Californian!

Z's Bat Mitzvah

2011-05-13T15:13:00.000-07:00

Some of the people who read this blog really like the fanfare posts. This one's for you gals!

As I mentioned a few weeks back, Eldest Daughter's sleep-away-camp friend became Bat Mitzvah. The big to do took place in a local suburb in the synagogue of my childhood, which barely resembles the synagogue I remember of the 1970s.

This was a B'nai Mitzvah - two Bat Mitzvah's at one time. Each young woman chanted from the Torah and Haftorah, and gave her interpretation of the portion. The sanctuary is large and it was perhaps 90% filled, testament to the strength of these girls' community.

I'd never been to a B'nai Mitzvah before and did not realize that one set of family and friends generally sits to one side and the other set sits to the other. Oops. Ditto for the luncheon afterwards. It's a good thing that we're friendly folks. We stopped at Border's on the way to the service and our purchases kept The Youngest Pinks from squirming too much in their seats. Eldest Daughter sat with her friends, not surprisingly, while we sat next to a group of middle schoolers, friends of the other B'nai Mitzvah. The boy next to me, looking uncomfortable in his pressed khakis, starched oxford shirt and stiff shoes, asked a lot of questions. "Can I go to the bathroom in the middle of the service? Do you know where the bathroom is? We really can't text in here?"

Z looked like a little girl that morning -- flats, minimal makeup, a floral dress. This was in huge contrast to how she looked that evening -- absolutely sunning with big makeup and hair and wearing a gorgeous, backless pink and black dress. I really like Z; she doesn't much filter and is fun and funny. Last summer I took her and Eldest Daughter into the city for the SF Pride Parade. The picture here is of Z and her mom.

The luncheon wrapped about 1p to give the decorator and caterer time to prep for the evening celebration, held in the synagogue's social hall. My Bat Mitzvah and luncheon were in that very same location in that very same month 31 years prior. I remember the pale yellow and green tablecloths. This evening everything was hot pink, black and white.

Z's family is very close and Z is very clear that her 15-year-old brother is her bestie. The very first picture is of the two of them. A has Asperger's and their inner circle includes other families with children on the spectrum. It was such a blast seeing the stereotypical young teens, the non-stereotypical young teens and the extended family and friends celebrating Z's

simcha by getting down on the dance floor, laughing, eating and drinking. There was no us and them this evening, and likely for any other event for this group. I'm in the green screen adult group photo wearing a classic Armani little black dress and my current favorite Jim Thompson silk scarf.

The food was tasty and abundant of course: Mexican and an ice cream bar for the kids and salad, steak, roasted potatoes, Mediterranean veggies and chocolate cake for the adults. No one went home hungry, that's for sure!

Dave was out of town at a golf tournament so it was just me and The Pinks. Thing 1, who is nine, wore a fair bit of makeup. Thing 2 went to town on the dance floor. One of the party motivators

was Ben, who we know because he used to date our friend Melissa. He told me that he loves dancing with Thing 2 because she has so much energy and he was excited when he realized we were there. You can see from this picture how much she enjoyed herself.

As time goes by I enjoy these more and more, regardless of how many people I know there. I find happiness in the ritual and in the celebration itself. And of course it's an honor to be included.

Mother's Day 2011

2011-05-10T07:29:00.000-07:00

Both my mom and my mother-in-law were out of town this year! And so my immediate family was left to our own devices on this Hallmark Holiday.

I've long wanted to go to the Temescal Farmer's Market. Kymi lives near there so we met up with her family and walked / Razored / biked over. The kids had crepes for breakfast and the adults drained our wallets on pig, bread, strawberries, snap peas, grapefruit, avocados, mushrooms and baby lettuce. Oh yes, and the first cherries of the season. I bought one small bag knowing that in a week or two I'll get "The Call" and go to the secret farm in Brentwood with the Greenbombs to gather as many as we can carry.

The food vendors there are different than our farmer's market -- there is a the high-end chocolatier, Vice Chocolates, Blue Bottle Coffee, Donna's Tamales, Scream Sorbet, thin crust pizza and Thai food. There is dog parking, too. Who knew?!

Kymi, Eldest Daughter and I walked to Bakesale Betty's and learned that The Aussie and The American shutter their doors on Sundays and Mondays. We met back up with the husbands and played a bit of Michael Jackson Wii. I suck. But it was fun in a belly laugh sort of way.

The biggest surprise of the day was how many people we saw that we knew at

our next stop. Fenton's is an institution -- an ice creamery on Piedmond Avenue. Dave's family has gone for generations and I was shocked to meet up with a former client, a synagogue family and an elementary school family, none of us living anywhere near Fenton's!

Late in the afternoon Hayley and I saw Water for Elephants. I loved the book and the movie was good entertainment. Some of the cinematography was stunning. I don't think it'll win any awards, though, because neither Robert Pattinson nor Reese Witherspoon reach far.

I leave you with two pictures -- me and Kymi at the market and me and my mom during my first year. My mom was barely old enough to drink in this picture. That's my dog, Leslie's Lord Sampson, the first of two of my childhood Golden Retrievers.

A Dirty Life

2011-05-07T12:38:00.000-07:00

I just finished this memoir, written by NYC journalist-turned-farmer Kristin Kimball. It was a great read, one I'd highly recommend.

The story is fairly simple: East Villager forays into the country to interview a farmer. They fall in love. They move to Upstate New York and live happily ever after. But not without a lot of detours en route.

Kimball is a gifted, honest writer and she manages to promote farm-raised food without coming across preachy, ala Barbara Kingsolver. She and eventual-husband Mark come up with a new model of farming, a CSA-style cooperative that provides a whole diet.

One thing of the best things about this book is that the author doesn't shy away from the gory part of life on Essex Farm -- the killing, butchering and preparing meals of farm animals, and the tending to their health, which involves castration and artificial insemination. And while we all guessed that farming is hard work, she details how endless and exhausting it is without whining. There's the sleep deprivation in the peak season, living on the edge financially, the constant assault of weeds, the shear physical labor from milking the cows to planting to building fences and repairing barns, the hauling of crops, the canning.

Kimball praises their farming community and the relationships they develop with their neighbors, who help with the horses and pigs and chickens and rats, the wedding and the weeding. And she talks about her relationship with dirt, days too busy to bathe, change clothes or do laundry.

In the end she fully commits to farm life and to Mark, and the journey there, shared with us, is treat I am glad she shared

The Birthday Scavenger Hunt

2011-05-04T19:23:00.000-07:00

Someone had a birthday yesterday. It wasn't me.

Let's have a historical look at birthday celebrations in our house. I think about birthdays. I know they are coming. I procrastinate on how to celebrate them, except for the kids' birthday parties, which I plan and execute in great detail. I am pretty good with milestone birthday parties, too, as was evidenced by Dave's 25th birthday party in my Marina apartment, his 30th birthday party at the Meadowood Croquet Lawn, and his 40th birthday party at our house with the bleached blond sommelier.

Actual celebrations on the birthday are not my specialty. But for the someone whose birthday it was yesterday, I was determined to make this one memorable.

That someone was woken up by his three daughters. They unrolled a scroll and deemed it the day of The Birthday Scavenger Hunt, Amazing Race Style. Said Birthday Boy needed to get up pronto and start tracking down the clues.

Stop #1 led him down the street to our neighbors' very large, lush garden where he had to wander around looking for something suspect. He found the Mylar helium balloons, birthday gift from his in-laws and his second clue.

Stop #2 took him to our next door neighbors' house. There he did the secret handshake before picking up the decorated golf cart and driving to the local post office where his third clue was waiting outside, thumb tacked to the community bulletin board.

Stop #3 led him to Danville Chocolates in search of the special caramel apple and next clue. This proved a bit more challenging as the woman in the chocolate shop forgot about the special apple and our extended conversation about it the previous day. Dave had to meander around the shop long enough for her to remember that she was expecting a slightly confused forty-something looking for an apple accompanied by a bright orange envelope.

Stop #4 took him to his friend Bryan's office. This was complicated by the fact that Bryan's office moved and thus, the address I put on the clue was incorrect. Additionally, Dave got there before Bryan. In the end this was all good and fine and rectified by a leisurely lunch at The Prickly Pear Cantina with margaritas.

Stop #5 didn't take place until 7pm, when Dave was surprised with three couples joining us for dinner at Esin. Dennis and Margo even came up from Monterey. Love you two! Good wine was consumed, including 2000 and 2003 Silver Oak's.

All in all, he was a good sport and had a birthday he won't soon forget. Neither will the people who saw him driving down Diablo Rd. in the decked out golf cart!

Who are your parents?

2011-05-01T20:10:00.000-07:00

I felt like a Southerner as I was asked this again and again this weekend. That's what happens when you show up some place where your parents have long roosted.

We attended Z's Bat Mitzvah at the synagogue my parents have been affiliated with for 35 years. Z and Eldest Daughter became friends at sleep away camp and we've become friendly with Z's parents.

Z's father and his family have a long history at the synagogue, too. Re-entering the sanctuary was like being part of Alice and Wonderland; things were just a little bit odd.

The first person I noticed was the rabbi of my youth, the rabbi emeritus of this synagogue, also a guest. I remember him as soft spoken in person yet larger than life on the pulpit: passionate, political, articulate. He is now in his mid 70s.

Way back when, he was granted a lifetime contract, which is the equivalent of hitting the proverbial jackpot for a congregational rabbi. Yet apparently the price of its receipt was too much and he eventually left to pursue other rabbinic work. This resonates with me more now that I am an adult and am painfully living through the departure of our own synagogue's rabbi, a protegee of this man.

The synagogue structure has been rebuilt since my childhood. The Jewish Day School now resides on the property and there are also administration and education buildings. Really, it's a small campus. In the modern sanctuary, above the arc, is a floor-to-ceiling multi-colored stained glass window. I think it symbolizes creation although what it really says to me is BLT Sandwich. Truly, there are panels that look just like pieces of bacon.

I looked very carefully at this synagogue, wondering if it would be the right fit for our family at this juncture. I still don't know. I see the ghosts of my childhood there -- the rabbi and cantor who are long gone, the hideously wallpapered women's bathroom with the old vanity and couch that I gossiped on with my elementary and middle school friends, the uncomfortable blue pews. I can still envision the original arc with its ironwork, a decade ago replaced by a stunning, up lit etched glass version. Where do old arcs go, anyway?

So many thoughts in my mind as I drift between old and new. How do I, how do we, instill our children with a sense of our communal Jewish house of prayer when the synagogue we have chosen to raise our children in no longer exists? This keeps me awake at night.

Moving Parts

2011-04-25T20:00:00.000-07:00

I've not blogged much lately. We've been too busy living.

Here are some highlights:

Peter visited from Boston.
Since his wedding in Newport three summers ago, Peter has been busy overachieving in the child acquisition department. He and Sarah added one to the one he already had and their second will be born this summer. They also adopted a child in need. It's a wonderful story and I'd share it except that my keyboard will stop working with the amount of tears that fall every time I think about it. The only downside to Peter's much expanded family is that they will not be coming with us to Italy this summer. And that's a bummer because his oldest daughter is the same age as our gemelli and they have a blast together. This picture is of the happy couple in Spain with us on Father's Day, 2009. Sarah is happy here. I hope she's as smiley this Father's Day when she has four children, one not sleeping through the night and another in diapers. I bet she will be, after all, she did teach high school science in a previous life. Surely the little kids will be easier than private high schoolers.

Kathy visited from Boston.
Mark did the marathon then they were here for the week. I had dinner with them in the city. Note: even if you show up at Slanted Door right when it opens you have a snowball's chance in Siberia of getting a table. And I was dressed very well that night! Kathy is the middle gal in this picture, taken in Savannah when a bunch of us celebrated our 40th birthdays. She looks 14 and is a professor of biostatistics at Boston University.

The Klevatts visited from Chicago.
David is my first cousin and we grew quite close when I was in undergrad and he was in law school nearby. Maybe I took advantage of him because he was my escape when my roommates made me nuts? I dunno. I'm very fond of him. He has a wife and two daughters, roughly the same age as our own. His eldest daughter does classes at The Second City. If you do not know what that is, look it up fast and get yourself to Chicago pronto. David, my brother and my father have the same sense of humor. My abs are still sore from all that laughter.

Michael and Riley visited from LA.
Spring Break = college tours. Michael and Dave met freshman year in the dorms. We warned Riley that the people you meet in college really do become your life-long friends. I look at Michael and see a 21-year-old.

There is still skiable snow at Tahoe and it irks me that I do not have time to get up there to enjoy it. I'm perhaps the only person in the Bay still doing a rain dance.

My client work is frenetic. And then my husband bought another publishing company, which I would like to participate in more than just listening to him talk about it for 30 seconds before I fall into my coma at night.

The rabbi at our synagogue (also known as The Cousin) is departing. I did not expect to take this as hard as I have. While he may no longer be the right rabbi for the larger part of our congregation, he was for us and now we've got some serious thinking to do about our affiliation. It's one more moving piece. All would be right in the world if his next job was at the synagogue two 'burbs north. But think that the rabbi there still has a few years in him. Oy!

I'm looking forward to the weekend, and to celebrating a family friend's Bat Mitzvah. I'll also be checking out that synagogue for future membership in a clandestine sort of way. I suppose it is not so clandestine if I just told you all about it.

Is Passover over yet?!

Goodbye Dr. Peggy

2011-04-23T20:33:00.000-07:00

We are a family of five. A healthy family of five. Yet we spend an obscene amount on healthcare because Dave and I are both self-employed. I've been thinking about switching to Kaiser for a long time. I like a lot of what Kaiser is about: operational efficiency, preventative services, easy-to-obtain same-day appointments or somewhat urgent care appointments.

Yet I stalled mostly because The Pinks have been with the same pediatrician since they were old enough to know they had a pediatrician. And she is a wonderful woman, a compassionate and skilled physician.

Things such as Thing 2's unexpected encounter with the icicle are a significant out-of-pocket expense for us; using the Kaiser model it wouldn't be a big deal at all.

And so I pulled the trigger.

Experience 1:
I needed my eyes checked. The exam lasted 15 minutes -- 45 minutes less than the last visit I had to an optometrist. However, my prescription was updated and I can see again.

Experience 2:
Eldest Daughter needed a well visit. Parking was a nightmare. But the pediatrician herself was nice enough and again, the visit was quite brief as compared to a well check with Dr. Peggy.

Experience 3:
Thing 2 injured her finger at school playing ga ga. I called Kaiser and by phone, a sympathetic RN helped me examine Thing 2's hand. She then told me what to buy at the pharmacy and saved me a trip to urgent care. I really liked that! However, Thing 2's finger did not heal as fast as the RN thought it should. And that led us to Experience 4.

Experience 4:
Hello Minor Injury Clinic, the model of efficiency. A same-day doctor's appointment, a quick trip to x-ray two floors down and a return trip to the doctor's office for the diagnosis. Except that the doctor skipped delivering the diagnosis as he tried to push us out the door to the cast room. I stopped him and said, "I must have missed the diagnosis. Can you review the x ray with me?" He did stop and show me the bone chip, a fracture. And then came the splint. While we were having the splint put on, Thing 1 mentioned that her allergies were still bothering her. What the heck, we went upstairs to pediatrics and saw the first doctor who could work her in.

Experience 5:
And I liked this guy better than the pediatrician I'd selected for our kids. But he's a he! And the shes want a she. Ugh.

This is an adjustment.

I did not realize how much of a relationship I had with our long-time doctors until we switched. I've often wondered how much they really knew me, knew us. I don't have that same expectation with Kaiser. How much does that matter to me? I'm not sure yet. Me being me, I penned lovely farewell notes to each of our former doctors, ensuring they'd at least remember us if it turns we go that route again. Stay tuned.

Skeletons in the Closet

2011-04-15T14:20:00.001-07:00

A high school friend phoned today. He asked me to edit his manuscript, an autobiography disguised as a novel. He is a strange adult who is, by his own admission, the result of a less-than-ideal childhood. I am happy to review his work and also more than a little scared.

I am lucky to play a small part in helping him share his story.

Living the Dream

2011-04-07T20:05:00.000-07:00

Thom is a huge advocate of writing down your goals. They are easier to achieve if you are frequently reminded of them. I think I need to write down my goals, more concrete things than live happily ever after with Dave and The Pinks, leave the world a better place and learn to make dinner so that everything is done at the same time.

I had lunch with a friend last week and in four years her husband will retire. In five years their youngest will be out of the house. She has a clear plan for the next phase of their life. I like that.

My brother's college buddy lives in Truckee. He worked hard to live his dream. He convinced his ultra-conservative San Francisco employer to let him work from Tahoe. He married a woman who supported his dream, perhaps even shared it. They have a child together (named Sierra, duh!) and ski a lot. And he often posts beautiful pictures on Facebook, ones that make me smile ear-to-ear on the most frenetic of work days.

One of our Tahoe neighbors has a son who wants to be on the US Ski Team. Although they have a house in the Bay, they live at Squaw and the 16-year-old trains and skis year-round. The son is living his dream.

I feel sorry for my children. They have no concept of how good they have it, how much they are living the dream. If not their dream, many people's dream. From the top of the Shirley Lake chair, on the most glorious of Spring days and overlooking the lake, I gave this considerable thought. Our children have coordinating, brand-name ski clothes. They ski on good equipment with sharp edges. When they forget their gators we pull out our credit cards and buy them new ones instead of letting them suffer for their oversight. For lunch at the mid mountain restaurant they eat overpriced, over-salted hot dogs and drink not-very-hot chocolate made from water and powdered mix.

If these kids are to continue to ski, I need to give them some tough love. They need to know that skiing is not always ski in, ski out. Here's my plan:

1. They will be woken at 4am on Saturday mornings and have their sleepy bodies thrown in the car for day trips to Sugar Bowl.

2. They will carry their own gear from the far reaches of the parking lot to the lifts!

3. They will know the fear of driving to the mountains in a rear-wheel drive station wagon.

4. They will do this drive without a DVD player, iPod or DS.

5. They will eat McDonald's pancakes for breakfast in Auburn.

6. They will put on their boots while sitting in the back of that station wagon.

7. They will take them off in that now-really-cold-station-wagon at the end of the day, without a warm, cushy sofa to kick back on and someone to hand them a bottle of water.

I predict this will aid their character development significantly.

Back to living the dream. What's yours? How are you going to get there?

Springtime at Squaw

2011-04-04T11:44:00.000-07:00

When I opened my eyes Saturday morning something was wrong. Instead of seeing snow and trees I saw multicolored canopies. Was I at a swim meet? A swap meet? Earl Gray and I walked out on the balcony. Sure enough, there was a canopy city out there and it was growing larger minute by minute. They were so close I could have handed them cups of coffee. But they paid no attention to me, the woman wearing a lime green ski jacket over purple plaid pajamas, looking befuddled. An hour later it became clear: Granite Chief was setting up for a demo day. Still, it blocked my view. I did what came naturally after a very long work week: I went back to sleep.

The kids did not feel like skiing so we lounged around and when Dave came back from racing in the Far West Championships, I ventured as far as the grocery store. The best part of the day was during the late afternoon: Neighbor Ben's 9th Birthday Party at the Papoose Chair! We tubed, made s'mores, drank margaritas and feasted on gluten free pizza and cake.

The Birthday Boy and his family moved up here this winter. They still have a house in the Bay but he and his younger brother go to school in Donner. The parents and younger sister commute and they have a manny, too. The party guests were an eclectic mix: city friends who spoke of Lick, Burke's and Hamlin; neighbors like us who talked about rockers and renovations; ski team families who talked about the Big Air results; the Birthday Boy's local classmates and their families who compared notes on Summer ski plans for the southern hemisphere, and the Birthday Boy's extended family.

When I opened my eyes Sunday morning it was very quiet. At least I saw snow. But there was no line at the KT chair. Once again I was befuddled. And then I realized that it was because there was no fresh snow. Fresh snow = diehards who get in line two hours before the lifts open to lay the first tracks. My brother and father showed up promptly at 9a to continue the tri-generational skiing we enjoyed two weekends ago. It was a beautiful day of Spring skiing. My brother pushed Thing 1 harder than she is used to and her parallel turns and hockey stops improved. So did her confidence level; I would not have dragged her down some of those black runs on my own!

While there is a lot of snow up here, a record 61 feet this year, it's melting quickly on the lower mountain. Squaw will be open through Memorial Day and while I doubt we'll ski that late in the season, it may be tempting to come back up that last week just to have done it.

Lessons from Glee

2011-04-01T17:58:00.000-07:00

You love this show. I love this show. The music is upbeat and great for running. Grey's Anatomy, a TV show I have been with since its pilot, just did a music episode, likely to capitalize on the trend. Fail. Big fail. Even though the Grey's Anatomy soundtrack is a winner, the music episode was barely worth watching. Glee is magic.

Here are some things Glee reminds us of:

Gay is okay. Thank you, executive producers, for putting a same-sex kiss on TV during prime family viewing hours. And Kurt and Blaine were so adorable, too! Does anyone know if the actor who plays Blaine is gay in real life?

Teen pregnancy is not okay. Sure, Quinn looked cute and all but how much fun could it have been singing and dancing while hauling around that big belly?! And Quinn's water breaking at a competition? Ewwww! Fortunately Quinn regrets this, too, and has returned to the Celibacy Club.

Gywneth Paltrow is a triple threat. And did you see the fabulous choreography on Singing in the Rain? It's my all-time favorite piece of Glee choreography. Gywneth, do us a favor and keep to the screen. Your blog is terrible.

Parenting is hard. Example 1: Kurt's dad having the boy-on-boy sex talk with him. Example 2: Quinn's mom kicking her out for getting knocked up. Example 3: Finn's mom telling Finn that she deserves happiness and for him to suck it up and be happy she is marrying Kurt's dad.

High school is hard. For everyone. The closeted football player who kisses Kurt. The virgin, married guidance counselor. Always-angry Santana who can't figure out if she likes girls or boys. Coach Beiste who is tough on the outside but easily hurt. Trouty-lips Sam and Rachel, who are the odd ones out in the Quinn-Finn on-again, off-again romance.

Embrace your personal style. Rachel is adorable in her preppy nerdiness. Tina embraces her inner and outer Goth. Mercedes dresses big and bold, showing off those curves.

Well-written, well-executed dumb is hilarious. Brittany's deadpan one liners kill me time and time again: "When I pulled my hamstring I went to a misogynist." "Did you know that dolphins are just gay sharks?" "Sometimes I forget my middle name."

I am proud to be a Gleek.

The weekend I spent sitting down.

2011-03-28T21:18:00.000-07:00

It was a weekend of culture in the 'burbs!

The little kids and I saw Danville Children's Musical Theater's Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory on Saturday afternoon. A few of our friends were in it and it was an adorable local production. It plays next weekend, too. You can buy tickets here. The sets were quite elaborate, the best I've seen in a small-town theater.

Saturday night Dave and I saw The Adjustment Bureau with some friends. The movie, even with Matt Damon, was mediocre. Fortunately the dinner we had at Rodney Worth's new Mexican restaurant, The Prickly Pear Cantina, was very good. I do wonder if the avocados in the guac were fresh, though. The consistency was much like the frozen kind we buy at Costco. I just love having a daughter old enough to babysit her sisters! I didn't realize what a Matt Damon fan I was until I thought back to all the movies I'd seen him in that I'd really enjoyed. The Talented Mr. Ripley is one of my all-time favorites. And who didn't like the Bourne Identity series? And Good Will Hunting?

On Sunday, after religious school and my niece's birthday party, Eldest Daughter and I saw Contra Costa Musical Theatre's Hairspray with our NCL group. Wow! This was an amazing performance, high energy with some gifted performers. I downloaded some of the music to my iPod as soon as I got home. Coincidentally, Paige's sister-in-law Aubrey is in it, and someone we know from synagogue is the drummer. (I've always thought this woman had incredible arms and then I found out why - she's a professional musician. How cool is that?!) This plays at the Lesher Center through April 16. Go see it.

After all this social activity I needed some time to myself. I made Ina Garten's Lemon Curd, which was the easiest version I've ever made. I used Meyer lemons and it was an Ina Garten recipe so of course it turned out divine. After all that stagnant time over the weekend I did a TRX class at the gym first thing this morning. From what "they" tell me, I'll regret it tomorrow.

Nature or Nurture?

2011-03-24T10:49:00.000-07:00

What makes some people think of others' well-being while some people appear oblivious to it? Is this behavior innate or learned?

This is yet another topic I've had on my mind.

My family has a long history of volunteering. My parents have served long stints on boards for causes aligned with their interests. They have given their time and money to many other causes. My parents also go out of their way to help others, even when it inconveniences them. (Can we talk about the foster dog for a moment?!) My husband also comes from a family of givers, both of time and money.

I think it's innate.

It's the same thing in networking. You're a natural networker if you make connections without regard for what you will get out of it. You're a selfish networker if you do it one-sided, which is not networking at all, it's taking.

I recently had an extended conversation with a woman who works in the office at Children's Hospital Family House. She was raised in a single parent household by a mother who worked two jobs. Her mother did not have the time or energy to volunteer or do for others. Yet this woman told me that she just knew she'd work with people in crisis, that it was instinct for her to serve others, and to give.

Some people have every advantage and it's just not in their DNA to give. I know a woman who is an exceptional wife and mother and she would never think of volunteering or making matzoh ball soup for a sick neighbor. It's not because she's an inconsiderate person; it's just because she has a full plate managing her family's home life. Another woman I know is moderately philanthropic but would never take your child home with her own after school if you were running late at a doctor's appointment. She is happy to ask for the occasional favor but rarely will she help you unless the benefit to her is crystal clear.

And yet others give selflessly for years on end without knowing or caring if it will come back to them in the grander scheme of things. One of my co-workers has served a non-profit for the better part of two decades; he refers to it as his second full-time job. What an inspiration he is!

I posed this question on Facebook. Most people responded that they thought it was a combination of nature and nurture. I liked Ron's response: "I'd venture to say you're going to see four groups: predisposed with reinforced breeding; predisposed but raised during 'The Narcissism Epidemic'; not predisposed but raised 'well' anyway, and sadly, the bottom of the barrel and who didn't have it and never got it."

My father thinks it's bred. But then again he has a master's degree in sociology and thinks all behavior is learned.

Devout Christian and Pastor Chris, my high school classmate, strongly believes it's bred. He writes, "For those who think the altruism gene is evident sans nurture, just take a look at any two-year-old playing with toys."

Deidre, who along with her husband Loren, is incredibly philanthropic, writes, "Being a good citizen of the world and being philanthropic go hand-in-hand. And if you are lucky enough to have parents that guide you in this direction then it is the gift that keeps on giving through the generations." How thoughtful is that response?!

Anyone care to weigh in?

Tahoe Tip #1

2011-03-22T07:03:00.000-07:00

I wonder how many times I've driven back and forth to Tahoe in the ten years we've been regulars. One hundred is a good guess. Maybe that's why I can name every freeway exit in order in those 192 miles.

On our drive up Wednesday night we attempted to provision at Ikeda's in Auburn. Apparently it closes before 9pm on Wednesday nights. Or it was slow that particular Wednesday night and they powered down the joint early. As much of a disappointment as this was, it led to an amazing find: Raley's!

The Raley's a block down from Ikeda's is one gorgeous grocery store. (It's the Forest Hill Exit, folks.) It's much nicer than the Safeway at Blackhawk and even some of the new Safeways, like the one in Windemere. It was clean and well lit and had high shelves stocked with house and gourmet brands.

My father came up with the brilliant idea of provisioning there rather than in Truckee at 10pm, when it would be too cold for him and the gemelli to stay in the car while I power shopped. Very smart, Dad.

One hundred inches.

2011-03-19T09:10:00.000-07:00

That's what those in the know say this storm will bring to Tahoe. Bring it on! But give us a break tomorrow night so we can drive home.

My dad, the twins and I drove up here late Wednesday night for our annual Three Generation Ski Trip. (Sorry GVES staff, we can't let school stand in the way of their education!) Last year's trip was a fiasco. It stormed so hard the whole week that we did not get in a single day. This year has made up for it.

Thursday was beautiful -- blue skies and a few inches of fresh snow. Bonus: spending St. Patrick's Day on the slopes means you're off the hook on adding food coloring to the toilet, look for green clothes and eating corned beef for dinner. We convinced Paige, her sister Celia and six assorted kids in their clan to come with us. Mid afternoon we stopped for snacks at the firepit on the deck at Squaw Creek. Thing 1 thanked me for skiing faster. She told me that she worries when I get so far behind. That would be a backhanded compliment if she were older than nine. A trip to the hot tub, big bowls of past and a soft bed topped with a down comforter finished off the day.

Friday was a great day of skiing, too, in a different way. The storm was on its way so we got in three hours of skiing, the last run of which was in the storm. Falling snow is not bad; it's the wind and the lack of visibility that get you. We watched a bit of the USSA Junior Championships on Red Dog. I am in awe of kids who ski up the black diamonds faster than I ski down them. The mountain has been uncrowded and it's a dream to ski without the fear of being being nailed from the rear by a snowboarder. My brother and his family joined us today. I had a Perfect Moment.

There is something special about being out on the mountain with your kids: there is no whining, no arguing, just happy children debating which run to take next and yelling things like, "Awesome!" and "Let's do it again!" On days like these I praise my father for forcing me to learn to ski at age 12.

And more Bat Mitzvah Pictures ...

2011-03-16T12:40:00.000-07:00

These first pictures are of two of my absolute favorite material things: tulips and cheesecake. Jill did some simple arrangements of tulips for the table where our guests wrote thank you letters to the troops and for the table with the guest book.

Except that the guest book wasn't a traditional guest book. It was a hardcover art sketchbook with archival-quality markers and a list of ten ideas for contributions such as: write down your favorite recipe, make a prediction about Eldest Daughter, draw a picture. No one provided a recipe but several penned thoughtful notes and showed artistic talent we'd not previously seen. In time we will frame some of these masterpieces.

Eldest Daughter learned massive amounts about Judaism and Hebrew during her Bat Mitzvah preparations; I am halfway to a PhD in ribbonry.

We served decadent cheesecakes to the adults. Each table had a different kind: Snickers, Key Lime, Chocolate Mousse, Classic Vanilla, Dulce du Leche, Strawberry-filled, etc. I dragged Neeracha along to taste as many as we could. She was a good sport. Note the ribbons on the cake stands. Incidentally, I now own 10 white ceramic Martha Stewart Collection cake stands. If you're having a party and need displays, come on over.

Denae shot this picture of Eldest Daughter before the guests arrived. It's Eldest Daughter's favorite picture of herself from the party.

The final picture here is of a very old and dear friend, Bryan, and his youngest daughter. Bryan's daughter is enamoured with Eldest Daughter in the sweetest of ways. Bryan and Dave became fast friends in kindergarten. Bryan and I became met in third grade, when my family moved to Orinda. My favorite holiday of the year used to be Bryan's birthday, which is in the summer. His mom would throw a big family dinner on the patio at the family compound. Such happy times!

The other thing about Bryan is that he's great with kids. My plan was to have Bryan be our manny. I write this only partially in jest. And then Bryan met Sara, they married, and now they have two daughters of their own. I'm happy for them and have undergone intense therapy to get over this disappointment.

If I were to be honest, though, which I try very hard to do while blogging, I'd have to admit that there is something unsettling about your child reaching a milestone like this. I much prefer to think of my daughter as she looks when she get out of bed: innocent, no makeup lining her big eyes, a little confused and disheveled. While I'm proud of her, it's bittersweet because those reaches back into childhood are fewer and fewer. It's a good thing she has two younger sisters!

We went to a Bar Mitzvah this weekend, a secular-school friend of Eldest Daughter's. The thoughtful young man in coat and tie on the bimah was a very different young man than I'd seen previously, both physically and spiritually. At school they seem so old; in the synagogue amongst their Jewish community and extended family they seem so young, truly on the cusp of adulthood. I enjoy people watching at B'nai Mitzvot. Tween and teen watching, really. The young men don't want to be dressed up and the young women are thrilled for the opportunity. If there's an evening event, this is the first chance many of them have to buy party dresses, wear high, high heels and go big with the hair and makeup. It's a blast to watch the dynamics.

"And we had so much fun at that wine tasting ..."

2011-03-12T07:15:00.000-08:00

I just hate it when children talk about the fun birthday party they went to over the weekend in front of children who weren't invited.

Dave and I have spent numerous hours coaching our children not to do that. Growing up is hard enough; fortunately Dave and I are on the same page here and we do this to protect other children from unnecessary hurt feelings and also to teach our children to consider others before they speak. It's not a foolproof system by any means and it becomes trickier as the kids get older. Birthday parties turn into sleepovers with pictures that turn up on Facebook.

Does this courtesy apply to adults? Or, do we assume that adults are mature enough to handle it? I don't have the answer. My inclination is to not discuss things that don't involve all present. Yet I know that not all adults feel the same. They are not trying to be Mean Girls in the same way that some of the girls at sleepovers are; I think it just does not occur to them that they may be making the others uncomfortable.

We are going to Italy this summer with the usual clan plus a few newbies. I'm excited, as I always am before these trips, and this one will be even sweeter because my last trip to the continent was cancelled.

This week I had breakfast with two friends, one whose family is going with us and one whose family is not. Two of us are involved in National Charity League and although I would have liked to talk about that, I did not as the third would have felt left out. Likewise, when the subject of Italy came up, I glossed over it and changed the subject.

Lest you think I'm declaring myself an angel here, that's not the case: I've inserted my foot in my mouth countless times. I just try to catch myself.

A year ago Dave and I went to a party. Most of the guests, ourselves included, had been to another party the night prior. I watched with horror as the couple who did not attend the first party heard all about the antics of the previous evening. How comfortable was that for them?! Heck, it was uncomfortable for me, the innocent bystander.

The social norms must be different for adults than for children. Clearly I am more sensitive to this issue than most.

Candle Lighting

2011-03-10T21:02:00.000-08:00

I wanted to post just a few more pictures from the Bat Mitzvah. However, Denae shot so many gorgeous images that it's going to take me a few posts to get through them.

Eldest Daughter wanted a candle lighting so she wrote 13 short poems and invited some of her favorite people up to light a candle. She did one for Dave's dad, who passed away far too young, for her friend Sophie who came in from Cayman, for our travel friends, for her grandparents, for her first cousins and aunts and uncles and on and on.

I love the abstractness of this first picture. You can also see the mink teddy bear we gave her that night. Dave's grandma was an exceptionally fashionable woman and, in fact, had a women's dress shop in Napa for 52 years. When she passed away my mother-in-law had the brilliant idea of turning two of her fur coats into teddy bears as keepsakes for her great grand-daughters. Apparently a furrier in New York makes a good living at this! Eldest Daughter spent a lot of time with her great grandmother so this was an incredibly meaningful gesture and gift to her. I love how at ease she is with public speaking. You can see the mike in her hand here. That's a gift from Dave!

This second shot is of Eldest Daughter and my parents. For some reason my mom does not often smile in pictures. I had my hair done this week and my colorist, who my mother also sees, told me how much my mom enjoyed Dave's toast at the party, and how she was brought to tears. This must have been taken before the crying.

This last picture here is of Dave's sister and brother-in-law, and two daughters. Everyone should have an aunt like my SIL; Eldest Daughter just adores her and goes to sleep away camp with her cousins, who are 6 months and 2 years older than her.

Thank you, Denae, for capturing our simcha with so much emotion.

This picture gives me the chills.

2011-03-07T13:57:00.001-08:00

Steve Biggs took it while biking on Mt. Diablo. We live in the foothills at elevation 600 feet and don't often get snow on Mt. Diablo, which is 3,400 feet tall. In the 30+ years I've lived in the Bay Area I've only seen snow down here perhaps five times. But this was the storm that hit while we were last up at Tahoe and it was a biggie. I am in awe of this photograph and others he shot. Here's the link.

As beautifully bleak as this picture is, there are many signs of spring around. The tulips are beginning to bloom in our yard. I love tulips -- yellow ones and light pink especially. The ones coming up now are different shades of purple and the contrast with the still-green hills is gorgeous.

We've also got that citrus thing going on. The orange trees and lemon trees are going wild and this makes me elated. One night a week ago Dave and I covered our Meyer lemon tree in sheets to protect it from the freeze. He thought I was nuts. Our neighbors were on vacation for three weeks and we harvested from their yard. Their yard is quite lush and I never noticed how many citrus they had until the leaves were off most of the other plants. Let's just say we've had a lot of Vitamin C these last few weeks. We also discovered a great lemonade recipe. For some reason I thought the best ones were made with simple syrup but I haven't found one yet. Any recommendations?

As an aside, Thing 2 accidentally broke off a branch on one of the neighbor's lemon trees. Of course it's the tree center stage in the front yard. I know I'm a little bit crazy because I feel for the poor lemon tree. I love lemon trees (see lemon-tree-pajama-exercise in previous paragraph). Not as much as the kids and Dave but really, I've given that injured tree a lot of thought. I may need therapy.

Mountain High - 2011 School Version

2011-03-02T10:25:00.000-08:00

I have this bad habit of taking on elementary school class auction projects. I just love doing them. Creativity is a good release for me and it benefits our school, too.

This year I just signed up to do the class auction basket for Thing 1's class. My idea was Mountain High, things you'd use for a trip to the mountains, set atop a custom snowboard bench. Her classmates contributed generously and for the benefit of the school, I ended up separating the bench from the rest of the goodies.

My brother Barry founded Chairs4Charity in 2009. He is a testicular cancer survivor and a mensch. This is his way of giving back to the community. The bench he made for our auction is especially beautiful - bright green and blue. Heck, I want it for our ski place!

In our basket were Amex, Any Mountain, iTunes and Bass Pro Shops gift cards, s'mores supplies, 3 books, sand toys, a fancy snow saucer, a thermos and French hot chocolate mix, sunscreen, snowball makers, a snowman making kit and hand warmers. I even managed to wrap it up cute after all the bow-tying and cellophane lessons in preparation for the BatM.

The baskets are on display this week and there are some fabulous ones. Here are my three favorites:

1. Game Basket. It looked like someone went to the game aisle at Target and filled a cart with all the best things. You buy it and then Family House at Children's Hospital is the recipient. What a win! Family House is the residential facility next to the hospital where the families of ill children get to stay when they live too far to commute. Brilliant. Just brilliant.

2. Emergency Preparedness Basket. All the things you're supposed to have in storage in case of a natural or unnatural disaster. Not so sexy but oh so useful.

3. Middle School Basket. Another sharp idea. Included were the ugly PE clothes and gym locker lock, which every 6th grader has to buy, the special calculator required for math class, and a whole lot of other things that mom and dad have to search for come August. A+.

Let the bidding begin!

Paris Goes to San Francisco

2011-02-27T15:52:00.000-08:00

Thing 1 penned the most recent book in the My Friend Paris series: Paris Goes to San Francisco.

Our local chocolate shop, Danville Chocola tes, hosted yesterday's book release party. About 50 people came to hear Thing 1 read the book and feast on donut holes, chocolate and hot chocolate. The chocolate shop even created My Friend Paris caramel apples, which sold out pronto.

It was a sweet celebration, clearly!

Paris Goes to San Francisco is available on Amazon and at the San Francisco locations of the Boudin Bakery.

Fine. It's 2:32. Mommy. Three fingers. Sleepy.

2011-02-24T12:23:00.000-08:00

This was a variation of the conversation I had with Thing 2 every two hours Monday night. There is nothing worse than one of your children hurting.

It started innocently enough. Eight glorious feet of snow fell up at Tahoe over five days. We skied. We sledded. We had snowball fights. We made snow angels. We caught snowflakes on our tongues. We watched the icicles on our roof line grow to 15 inches wide and two stories long. And then one of us reached out and touched one. And down it came with a vengeance, on her head.

The sound of your child's scream is like the sound of a car accident: a sound you never forget and one that brings your heart rate from zero to sixty faster than your neighbor's Porsche. I took the stairs two at a time and brought my daughter inside, where she cried for the next 45 minutes. We held her and gave her Tylenol. Finally her cries dulled to moans and we fled the mountains.

An hour into our trip home I texted my favorite pediatric neurosurgeon, also known as Cousin Hal, with the facts. He texted back: ED ASAP. CAT SCAN.

Next: a call to a friend in Sacramento to find out which hospital to take her to. She recommended Sutter Roseville and the reviews on Yelp confirmed it was a top notch facility with a large, efficiently run ED. When we arrived 20 minutes later the ED waiting room looked like a war zone. There were people with bloody head wounds, limbs askew and on and on. Although the triage nurse was very nice, all that gore was freaking Thing 2 out so we hopped back in the car and continued south.

Finally we arrived at John Muir, our local trauma center, and the hospital where all Three Pinks were born. A wonderful PA named Robin Chastain examined Thing 2 and advised against the scan, telling us that the neuro exam did not warrant the amount of radiation the scan would expose her to. I explained to her that my cousin had advised it. She said, "Do you mind me consulting with him?" And then they were on the phone.

Finally, 7.5 hours after we left Tahoe, we were pulled into our garage. Tired does not even begin to describe how I felt, how we all felt.

And now my baby is back to her normal, active self.

Granlibakken

2011-02-22T17:38:00.000-08:00

Instead of skiing on Sunday we went sledding at Granlibakken on Tahoe's west shore. This well-hidden resort and conference center has a snow play area and a teeny tiny ski hill. So teeny tiny that there is just a t bar and rope tow. The sledding hill is just high enough that you can walk up it and also steep enough that you can legitimately scream like a wild person going down it.

I'd like to tell you that just the kids sledded but no, I did, too. It was silly fun. I rather enjoy socially acceptable screaming. Paige and her entourage came with us and her dad, Jim, sledded in a suit and tie as he'd come straight from church.

Granlibakken is a neat place. Quaint yet modern facilities. It's family-owned on 74 acres. It'd be a great summer destination because it's an easy walk to Tahoe City and the beaches.

We try to do something new each time we go to Tahoe, be it try a new restaurant or visit a new locale. I cannot fathom that in April we will have owned our Squaw place ten years. How could that be?!

I wish I liked hot chocolate.

2011-02-19T16:10:00.000-08:00

I should like hot chocolate. I like chocolate. I like warm drinks. I like whipped cream. Sadly, I do not like hot chocolate.

Hot chocolate is becoming more and more trendy in the states. We used to have a Bittersweet Chocolate Cafe in our suburb. I worked there a fair amount. But it didn't make it.

Tara Austen Weaver just covered a Hot Chocolate Crawl on her blog, Tea & Cookies. It sounded great, except for the actual consumption of the hot chocolate.

If ever I was to like a particular hot chocolate it would be David Lebovitz's Hot Chocolate With Salted-Butter Caramel.

Neeracha is a hot chocolate connoisseur and blogs about it not infrequently. Here she touches on some she had in Barcelona.

I went to great lengths to locate La Charlotte de l'Isle the last time we were in Paris. How much sense does that make?!

We're up at Tahoe. It's snowing lightly, as our neighbors tell us it has been since Tuesday. The drive up was long yet we were rewarded with vistas of heavily snow-laden pine trees as far as we could see. We drove the back roads for a bit to escape the drudgery of the slow-and-go freeway and were gifted with a freshly plowed road all to ourselves.

Dave has just returned from a trip to the outdoor spa and tells me that the snow is literally 10 feet tall all around it. Pity the 6-foot-tall man responsible for keeping the path from the door to the hot tub clear. I hope he likes hot chocolate.

Old Friends

2011-02-17T09:23:00.000-08:00

When Eldest Daughter was in preschool we often socialized with five other families. As circumstances, interests and situations changed we drifted apart. Some friendships are meant to last a lifetime and some live in a specific time and place. This was situational.

Two of us are still very close and I am grateful for the special friendship which has stood the test of time. Last weekend, we ran into a third at the She's All that Conference. I thought it would be awkward but it wasn't. I was just happy to see her.

And then there's Caryl who I met at my first job out of college. She was the first person I showed the ring to when Dave popped the question. She married a great guy and this year, against all odds, they moved to our suburb.

Together they run an events management firm and I spent yesterday working from their offices while my car had its tires changed. So much fun! We worked, we laughed, Scott ran across the street and picked up lunch for us.

Old friends are such a special breed. So are new friends.

I remember my MIL once saying that anyone she's known less than a decade is a new friend.

Although I will never be able to thank all the people who contributed to Eldest Daughter's Bat Mitzvah, I'm going to try.

Caryl baked donut-shaped cupcakes that were all the rage. She and Scott also took all the care packages for the troops home with them after the party and delivered them to our house the next day.

Paige set up all the activities and signage the night of the party. She also hauled home and delivered the signs and leftover centerpiece elements.

Jill made a crack-of-dawn run to the Flower Market Friday morning then created arrangements. She also put together the vegetables and dip for the Kiddush luncheon and provided Eldest Daughter with the fabulous sparkly shoes she wore with the Betsey Johnson pouf. Jill conceptualized the ribbon explosions that adorned the centerpieces and random collection vessels, and taught me how to make them myself.

Mark and Kristin, our sweet next door neighbors, schlepped wine, signs and coat racks to the party, and then the signs and coat racks home. Jackie procured that fabulous wine.

My Aunt Evelyn made the toffee that went fast.

My mother assembled and delivered the hospitality bags and then she, my father, and my MIL also threw a delicious family dinner Friday night before services. My MIL also contributed four cakes and chocolate dipped dried fruit. My mom was in charge of rugelach.

Lori coordinated the oneg Friday night and talked me off the ledge numerous times. She also created the invitations, with Paris' help.

Barry picked up cheesecakes and hauled balloons away.

Many friends and family cooked and baked for the festivities: Coleen, Honey, Jacquie, Sharon, Lainie, Candace, Jen, Lisa. Lisa even loaned her college-bound Eldest Daughter, a Denon & Doyle party motivator, to make sure the DJ and his team fulfilled Eldest Daughter's every musical fantasy.

Margo and Dennis assembled centerpieces for the party, and moved lights and balloons around once the party got underway.

Let's not forget Tristan, who came out from Salt Lake City to be our masterful beautician for the weekend. I didn't know her all that well before she came but wow, she's talented and fun. We are so grateful to her, and to Paige for hosting her. If you need styling, she's your gal. The only issue we have now is that Eldest Daughter and I want to buy everything she used on us.

Sara and Thom were our go to team. Sara helped me with so many odds and ends the day of the party and we relied on Thom for back up to our very-pregnant photographer. He also did a lot of schlepping.

I owe you guys big.

Cherry Crumb Cake

2011-02-15T19:50:00.000-08:00

I've baked a lot this year. Between National Charity League and baking for every Jew with a Bat Mitzvah this year that asks, our ovens have gotten a lot of action. Mostly the kids and I make cookies but occasionally I try a new recipe. This one is outstanding. Enjoy!

Cherry Crumb Cake

for the cake batter and cherries layer:

1 3/4 C unbleached all-purpose flour
1/2 t salt
1 1/2 t baking powder
1/4 t baking soda
1 stick (112g) unsalted butter
1 C sugar, plus 3 tablespoons
2 eggs
1 t pure vanilla extract
3/4 C sour cream
1 14 ounce can tart, unsweetened cherries, drained

for the streusel topping:

3/4 C brown sugar
1/2 C whole wheat pastry flour (or unbleached all-purpose)
1/4 t salt
1/2 t almond extract
1/2 t cinnamon
1/2 t ground cardamom
4 T butter

for the cream glaze:

1 C powdered sugar
3 T heavy cream
1/4 t pure almond extract

1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Butter a 9 inch square baking pan. In a medium sized bowl, whisk together flour, salt, baking powder, and baking soda.

2. In a large bowl, cream together butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Incorporate eggs, one at a time, until smooth. Add in vanilla and sour cream. Beat until smooth. Slowly incorporate flour mixture and mix until just incorporated.

3. In another bowl, combine the dry ingredients for the streusel topping, and add in the butter and almond extract. Mix with hands or mixer until mixture starts pulling together.

4. Spread two-thirds of the batter into the bottom of the cake pan. Mix cherries with 3 tablespoons of sugar. Distribute evenly over batter. Sprinkle 1/4 of the streusel topping. Top with remaining batter and streusel topping. Bake for 1 hour, or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean.

Image and Recipe courtesy of Stephmodo.

Horse, Tar, Booger

2011-02-13T21:33:00.000-08:00

What do these three things have in common? They are nicknames for Heroin.

I did not know this until I attended the She's All That Conference Saturday. Things have changed a lot since I went to high school.

Apparently prescription drug abuse is a big deal now. I attended a session with a panel made up of a mother who lost her 21-year-old ASU senior to an accidental prescription overdose, a Danville police officer, a high school vice principal, an 18-year-old recovering drug addict and her mother, and a counselor at an in-patient treatment center.

It was eye opening, in the same way the books Tweak and Beautiful Boy were. I already knew of the problems with the oft-prescribed ADD medication Adderoll because the Race to Nowhere addressed that.

Chelsea, the recovering 18-year-old, came from a family just like yours and mine. Upper middle class. Parents still married. Younger sibling. And yet she succumbed.

Lest you think this conference was all a downer, it was not. I attended two other sessions with valuable, inspiring content. However, this session has been replaying in my mind ever since.

Eldest Daughter expressed her concern that now "everything will change at home". Everything won't change but some things will. For example, we're now going to take her cell phone away after 9:30p. She also told me that we are more lenient than a lot of other parents. Interesting. We don't think we're lenient. Trust is earned. She does not have a TV or computer in her room. She cannot ride in a car when we do not know the driver. We meet the parents at homes we drop her off at.

Anyone want to compare notes on boundaries?

The Nitty Gritty

2011-02-10T10:16:00.000-08:00

I had not realized how long it would take me to recover, both mentally and physically, from the Bat Mitzvah weekend. Now that I think about it, it really was a marathon.

Wednesday. Out-of-towners began to arrive.

Friday. Shabbat Dinner for 30 hosted by my parents and MIL. Services at the synagogue. Oneg.

Saturday. Bat Mitzvah. Kiddush Lunch. Party.

Sunday. Brunch and Superbowl for 35 at the house.

Monday. Clean up.

Tuesday. Clean up.

Wednesday. Clean up. Will the house ever be put back together?! The chaos is getting to me.

Shabbat Dinner
My parents and MIL threw a delicious and beautiful dinner for the family and out-of-towners at Pasta's Trattoria Friday night. It was also Eldest Daughter's 13th Birthday.

The Bat Mitzvah

So proud. So happy to have so many family and friends involved. Caryl's cake donuts got a lot of attention at the lunch.

The Party

I chose the Oak Hill Park Community Center for the Broadway-themed evening event. It was ideal for adults and kids; the kids, the kid food and the DJ were in one room and the adults, show tunes and adult food were in a smaller room across the hall. The adults could go back and forth for dancing and not be subjected to the deafening dance music all night long.

Balloon Thrills brought in hundreds of pink and green balloons, and two dozen uplights. There were also strand-lit posters of RENT, Les Miz, Phantom of the Opera, Hairspray and Wicked. Instead of a guest book we did sketch pads with markers, and the talented Jill did the flowers. The requisite sign in board was a Playbill featuring Eldest Daughter. Adult centerpieces were cheesecakes on Martha Stewart cake stands adorned with brown and pink ribbon explosions. The Under 21s had white sofas and pink bean bags, lounge-style, with candy centerpieces on low cocktail tables. Denon & Doyle kept everyone on their feet and we did the Hora with the chairs. Oy!

One of our close family friends works as a party motivator for D&D and Mel did everything within her power to see that this was an extra special evening. We will miss her when she goes to U of O next fall!

The Under 21s ate New York street food -- hot dogs, pretzels, pizza. The Over 21s ate knishes, warm pastrami, corned beef and turkey sandwiches, salad and coleslaw, pickles.

Clyde The Ring Guy turned quarters into Liberty Rings for all the guests. You can get your very own one by clicking here. He makes them for Sundance. They are really cool.

San Francisco Photo Booth shot silly pictures and printed them out on site, which the kids loved. The kids also posed with Thank You bubble signs I created in advance then wrote letters to the troops stationed in Afghanistan and put them in care packages we'd preassembled. Doing for others makes me happy. Very happy.

Marlyss & Stacey created most of the signage and shipped it out. They must buy glitter and string lights by the truckload. Anyone need Broadway party decor? We have a garage full of it.

The adults drank VB and wine we drove up from Southern California, and the kids had Glinda and Elphaba drinks we created in neon, light up martini glasses. Toward the end of the evening a hot chocolate beverage bar with mix and match toppings appeared.

Eldest Daughter did a candle lighting to recognize family and friends, including her gal pal Sophie who came all the way from Cayman, and we showed an embarrassing photo montage. We remembered Ruth, Eldest Daughter's great grandmother, who she was very close to, with a gift of a mink teddy bear made from one of her coats.

At 9:30p the Karavan, the Kara's Cupcake mobile truck, pulled up and the kids and some adults sugared up for another 90 minutes of dancing. Of the four kinds of cupcakes, the s'mores ones went fastest.

Sunday Brunch & Superbowl
The Packers won and we feasted on Millie's coffee cake and family favorites I'd handed off to a local caterer to prep and deliver. Brilliant! Around 7pm the last guest left and we collapsed.

A truly amazing, surreal weekend, that I could not have pulled off without the help of many. More on that in my next post!

Bat Mitzvah - DONE!

2011-02-06T20:24:00.001-08:00

It's Sunday night. The Superbowl crowd just left. It's just me, Dave and the kids in the house now, left with the memories of a fabulous simcha and a lot of mess.

This will be a short post as I need to pick up enough so that the housekeeper can do her job tomorrow.

In a nutshell, this weekend was everything we'd dreamed. Although I thought it would rain, as it does on all of our important family occasions (the day we were married, the days our children were born), it was in the mid 70s and sunny. To no one's surprise, Eldest Daughter brought tears to our eyes on the bimah and was poised, gracious and thoughtful the rest of the weekend.

Of course we were thrilled for our daughter's religious milestone, becoming a Jewish adult. However, having the room filled with friends and extended family from as far away as Cayman and the east coast made the weekend incredibly special. Friends met friends. We sang, we danced, we ate. We laughed. We prayed. We tried to leave the world a better place. More on that in another post.

Biggest surprise: the number of 13-year-old boys who came up and introduced themselves to us, and thanked us for having them. Wow!

The Bento Box Bandwagon

2011-02-01T11:35:00.000-08:00

Thing 1 is very picky. At age 9 she still doesn't like different foods to touch each other. Bento Boxes were invented for this child! And fortunately they're all the rage.

For those of you who aren't yet familiar with this craze, a Bento Box is a lunchbox, most often made up of individual compartments.

We had a blast searching online for the perfect box, finally deciding on an actual Japanese import. It's the pink polka dot one with three stacking tiers pictured above. There are lots of local options available, though, given our proximity to San Francisco's Japantown and the significant Asian population in the Bay.

There are entire cookbooks a whole bunch of blogs that cover Bento Box lunches. Here are a few links:

Lunch in a Box
Wendolonia
Another Lunch

It does take longer to pack Thing 1's lunch but I enjoy the creative challenge of it and I'm hopeful that my petite daughter eats more given the visual appeal. Besides, this stuff is so adorable!

Seven days and counting - Top 10 List

2011-01-30T17:08:00.000-08:00

Eldest Daughter's Bat Mitzvah is in a week. Here's a peek at what's going on inside my head:

1. It will rain. It won't rain. If you were at our wedding you will understand this.
2. There will be too much food. There won't be enough food.
3. One of us will get the flu.
4. My clothes won't fit after coming back from alterations.
5. Eldest Daughter will have a growth spurt this week and her clothes won't fit after coming back from alterations.
6. A storm will strand Tristan in SLC and I'll have to do our hair and makeup myself.
7. The kids won't eat the centerpieces. Please, under 21s, eat the centerpieces! Over 21s too!
8. People will try take home the centerpieces. Who started that tradition anyway?!
9. The photo montage will not be finished.
10. My friend from college, who gave much thought to attending but in the end could not, will go to the SuperBowl instead to cheer on her beloved Packers. I will, of course, blame this on her husband and never speak to him again.

Mission Pie

2011-01-29T07:15:00.000-08:00

I read about this Mission District restaurant on one the food blogs and the description of the Shaker Lemon pie set it pretty high on my list of Must Visits.

The Shaker Lemon pie was not good. Mushy. Curdled. With slices of lemon in it. I suppose it's supposed to be that way but as a lemon lover, I was disappointed. The crust was the only redeeming part. My friend and I also tried the Pear-Raspberry and that was better although not mindblowing. The problem I have with pies in general is that my mother makes the best Apple Pie in the entire universe and everything else falls short.

My goat cheese, spinach and bacon quiche was very good from what I remember of the seven seconds it took me to devour it. My friend's onion and potato galette was quickly consumed, too.

The restaurant is at 24th and Mission, a colorful spot. Bonus points to Mission Pie for having a seasonal menu with organic ingredients borne of sustainable methods.