A Full Plate

Where have I been?

2008-12-17T14:04:00.000-08:00

Hi everyone! So, it's been months since I've popped onto this blog. Months, eek. Very bad blogging etiquette. But, I've been busy cooking up lots of topics each day for my new health and fitness blog, Vitamin G, over on Glamour.com. Haven't seen it yet? Come stop by!

So where does this leave this blog? Kind of in limbo right now, I guess. I promise to post when inspiration strikes, but for now, I'm busy juggling a lot, especially with the new baby due any minute now! We're having another boy and eager to meet him soon!

So, wishing you all a Merry Christmas and happy 2009! Hope to see you over on Vitamin G, and back here on this blog at some point.

xoxo,

Sarah

Happy First Day of September!

2008-09-01T16:55:00.000-07:00

I love fall. So I decided to ring it in a little earlier this year, on this first day of September, by picking blackberries (yep, we pillaged the neighbors' overgrown vine) and baking pumpkin muffins (I used a really good recipe from one of Dorie Greenspan's books).

And, a quick pumpkin progress report: I have six growing in my garden. Six! The San Marzano tomatoes have been eaten by the dog, along with the plums and the lone fig on my tree. Sniffle, sniffle. But the pumpkins, look like survivors!

And, it's live!

2008-08-27T13:12:00.000-07:00

Come by and check it out:

http://www.glamour.com/health-fitness/blogs/vitamin-g/

Learning to let go

2008-08-25T20:52:00.001-07:00

I wanted to tell you about a story I wrote recently for SELF (in the current issue) about learning to let go of things we harbor--for me, the what-ifs about a failed friendship that tanked many years ago. The article was therapeutic to write, and I hope it helps you break free from whatever unhealthy thing you're hanging on to ...

Oh, you can read the article here.

Sarah

P.S. Oh, and just because they are sooo beautiful, I'm including a photo of the dahlias from my garden--snapped in my kitchen the other day. Pure happiness.

Lumpia Cooking Lessons

2008-08-25T20:21:00.001-07:00

Last weekend I got a cooking lesson from my brother's girlfriend, Katherine, in the fine art of Lumpia making--you know those to-die-for Filipino fried rolls (kind of like a spring roll, but soooo much better). Well, I've been dying to learn how to make them for, I don't know, FOREVER, and she was kind enough to show me. Kat is half Spanish, half Filipino and began making Lumpia at the ripe old age of 8. I've included a pic, above, so you can see our little feast--and a feast it was. (Side dishes include: watermelon with lime and mint (so so good), veggies and soba noodles, and a salad).

Oh, and tomorrow is the big day: The day my health and fitness blog, Vitamin G, launches on Glamour.com! Be sure to check it out and tell me what you think!

xo,

Sarah

P.S. And, yep, that was my name in Women's Wear Daily recently (how fun is that?) in an article about Glamour.com's new launch.

I love Seattle--but it's time to get tough on crime

2008-08-21T11:26:00.000-07:00

Hi all,

I'm writing today with some serious stuff on my mind. Last weekend, a 24-year-old woman, on her way to a job interview, was brutally raped in broad daylight in one of Seattle's most beloved landmarks: Pike Place Market. My response?

Where were the police?

Where were the people--you, me, anyone--who could have helped her while she was beaten to a state of unconsciousness and raped repeatedly?

What the #%^&#! is going on in this city?

I'm angry. Really angry. What has happened to this city--this place I have loved since I was a child? Now, I know crime is a reality in today's world--especially in the city, especially in the year 2008, but I'm not willing to sit idly back and accept that this is our new reality--that I should worry about being raped when I want to, I don't know, head down to Pike Place to pick up flowers for a dinner party or rhubarb for a pie.

For me, this news was sort of the straw that broke the camel's back, for lack of a better analogy. Crime seems to be sweeping into Seattle with an eerily steady force. First there were the male gang rapes happening in Belltown (yes, male gang rapes), then the upswing in youth violence that has inner-city kids chasing each other around with guns--even my own brother was brutally and randomly beaten up last year by a gang of guys after leaving a restaurant downtown (in case you're wondering, the place was Jillian's--and, nope, not a fan of the joint).

So where does this leave me--besides being very angry? It makes me think it's time to get tough on crime. I never thought I'd say this, but I think it's time Seattle got itself some Giuliani-style "round 'em up and get 'em prosecuted" leadership. Even our friends from New York say they see more blatant crime in downtown Seattle (drug deals, you name it) than they ever witnessed on the streets of New York.

OK, have we been snoozing while crime snuck in and took up residence in this great city? Time to wake up people. You. Me. I think we can all do something about it.

I just mailed in my ballot for the primary election, and now this all has me thinking about the general election ahead. For the first time in a long while, I'm willing to cross party lines to vote for a candidate who promises to get tough on crime--in Seattle, and elsewhere in the state.

I never thought I'd say this, but the things I care about--the environment, help for the poor, and all those other worthy social issues--are all good, but at the moment, keeping our streets safe matters more to me. Seriously. Pollution control vs. rape control. Yeah, I'd vote for the latter right now--if given a choice.

What are your thoughts on this? And, for those Seattle-ites reading, which candidates in the upcoming election seem to be toughest on crime?

Coming Home From War

2008-08-14T07:54:00.001-07:00

Cutest photo in the world: My 2-year-old niece with her dad, my brother in law. He came home from serving in Iraq yesterday and reunited with his daughter, wife (my sis) and his new son (who was born while he was in the Middle East!).

Glamour and crannbery pie--how's that for a combo?

2008-08-10T13:10:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone!

OK, so it's been an unforgivably long time since my last post. Believe me, I've been thinking about this ol' blog a lot, and all my pals who I need to connect with.

Speaking of blogs, I want to tell you about some exciting news: I recently accepted a gig as a blogger for Glamour.com! While I'm currently doing some ramp-up work for my new blog, called Vitamin G (get it, "G" for Glamour? Cute, huh?), it won't launch until the end of the month. (I'll post the URL here, when it does.) The blog will focus on health and fitness topics. I've been writing about health for years, and I'm kind of obsessed with staying on top of all the latest news, research and trends in the wellness arena, so it's a great fit for me and I'm so excited for the opportunity. Stay tuned for details on the blog's launch!

Lot's of other things to catch you up on, and share, but right now I want to sign off with this (which will explain the cranberry photo, above): Anyone ever made a cranberry-sour-cream pie? I know, it sounds odd, right? Well, I saw it in a The Pike Place Market Cookbook recently, and I can't get it out of my head. I guess I'm craving fall foods already. (You should see the pumpkins coming up in my garden--sugar pie and Cindarella varieties. So fun!) Anywho, back to the pie: Does it sound good? Gross? So-so? Would you try it? Would Ina Garten--godess of all domesticity--make it? (Like fellow writer Melissa Walker, I, too, am ga-ga over Ina. BTW, she just released her third young adult novel, Violet in Private--check it out.)

I'm thinking of giving this pie a test run as soon as I can get my hands on some fresh cranberries at the market. And maybe, if I'm lucky, I can talk my chef friend Brian McCracken into sneaking me a bag or two from his family's farm--they own a cranberry bog (how cool is that?).

Hugs to all--will catch up more later.

A lesson in graciousness

2008-06-26T14:01:00.000-07:00

Today I ran into my neighbor's car.

Let me paint the picture for you: screaming baby in the back, groceries in the rear, and two interviews to get to ASAP. As I tried to park in front of my house, like I always do, I cut the corner too close and ... screech.

My heart rate climbed to an obscene level, and I got out to survey the damage (did I mention my neighbor drives a BMW? Yeah, not really a car you want to mess with). I wasn't sure if I had just scratched the bumper, or if I had been responsible for the other damage on the fender.

Dear Lord.

With my heart in my hands, and my baby in my arms, I went to his house to repent--and I expected anything but what I received. "Don't worry about it," he said. After taking a look at the car, he insisted that the fender damage was already there, and that the scratch on the bumper was no big deal.

I wanted to cry--not because I was happy that I wouldn't have to fork over hundreds for repair bills (I would have done so in a heartbeat), but because of how kind he was to me. Before he even saw the damage, he'd brushed it off and forgiven me. I chatted with he and his wife for a while on the sidewalk, and I kept thinking, there is a lesson here, Sarah--a lesson in forgiveness, and graciousness.

How many times have I made someone feel bad for something silly? How many times have I refused to forgive and held a grudge?

You never expect that hitting a BMW will be a wake-up call, but today, it was mine. Any life lessons in your fender benders?

Green decor--I want this bedroom!

2008-06-15T09:37:00.001-07:00

Today, I want to share a treasure with you. While working on an article for Weather.com, I came across a fabulous blog run by a mom in Athens, Georgia: Jennae Peterson. The blog, GreenYourDecor.com, is filled with gorgeous design ideas, practical tips, and best of all, budget-friendly ideas to style your home green!

Like Jennae, every few months I get the urge to redo my bedroom. (Yeah, my husband usually puts the kybosh on that.) My new passion is organic bedding, and I'm currently salivating over this cheerful organic bedding, featured on GreenYourDecor recently. Wouldn't you want to wake up in this room?

Why organic bedding? Jennae had this explanation:

"It is grown without synthetic pesticides or fertilizers and therefore provides the softest, smoothest comfort this side of your baby’s bottom. This particular organic bedding has the added benefit of featuring a print that is nature inspired, so you’ll remember why you wanted organic in the first place."

I don't know about you, but that's all the convincing I needed!

On surviving the photo shoot

2008-06-06T08:37:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone!

Isn't this gorgeous? This luscious-looking piece of heaven was made by my friend Kristine -- the dessert-maker extraordinaire. She brought it over the other night for a dinner we had here. And believe me, we enjoyed every last bite.

Sorry for the hiatus. I've been busy these days with new projects and other exciting stuff. I will write more soon, but I wanted to let you know that I survived the Hallmark magazine photo shoot. Remember the dinner party feature that was being shot at my home? It was not only a ton of fun, but we didn't want it to end! From the stylists and hair and makeup folks, to the photographers and fabulous producers, we had a blast and just loved the experience. (You should have seen my husband getting his makeup done -- classic!).

I'll let you know when the story will run (I'm working on it now), when I hear from my editor. For now, I have several other Hallmark features in the works, one of them has me cooking up some delicious things in my kitchen. I'll share more soon.

What's on your plate?

Mother's Day gifts that give back

2008-04-28T21:50:00.000-07:00

I wrote this story, in the May issue of Cooking Light, about Mother's Day gifts that give back. Isn't it a great concept to buy a gorgeous bouquet, gift basket, etc., for mom, and see 10 percent or more go to a great charity? Anyway, I think so. And, Jason, if you're reading, I love the roses from organicbouquet.com, and the gift basket from Bumble B Design is lovely too. Hint hint.

A discombobulated day

2008-04-22T20:48:00.001-07:00

Do you ever wake up (cliche alert) on the wrong side of the bed? That's what happened to me today. All day, I've walked around forgetting things, tripping over toys, and committing lots of email bloopers (you know, emails that you accidently send to the wrong person or send too soon -- before you've spell checked or really thought about what you wrote). Sigh. I also spilled tomato soup on myself and yelled at my dog for no reason. Poor Paisley. (And don't worry, I gave her a hug an hour later. And, she was kind of guilty. Yesterday she trampled my tulips.)

But anyway, today I also left the house for the grocery store, and forgot my shopping list. Even though it was raining and windy, even though I had to hike up these huge stairs and walk back to my house (with a toddler on my hip), I did. Because I'm blind without a shopping list. Without one I buy pastries and muffins and chocolate and wine. Impractical things that sound great at the moment, but don't put dinner on the table.

So, imagine my surprise when I get to the market and can't find my list. Again. I'm thinking to myself, didn't I just turn my car around a few minutes ago to get this thing? Didn't I stuff it in my purse? Am I going mad?

An hour later, after my groceries were paid for and bagged, I reached into my pocket, and there it was: a reminder of all the things I'd forgotten to buy, and maybe of all the things that were going wrong with this day.

Seriously, losing my mind today.

Do you have days like this? Days where everything just feels a bit "off"?

P.S. The allergist says my son is now allergic to all tree nuts (especially pecans), in addition to peanuts. So if you come by to visit, there will be no pecan pie here (even if it is one of my faves).

My new project

2008-04-15T21:04:00.001-07:00

On a lighter note (to balance out the subject of my last post), I want to tell you about a new personal project I'm working on -- one I'm very excited about, maybe because it has nothing to do with parenting, or magazine writing, or book writing. It's a much-needed diversion all in the name of personal enrichment.

First, let me give you some background:

When you were young, did you ever have a pen pal? In second grade, I wrote back and forth with a girl in New York City. I wish I could remember her name, but all I can recall is that she lived in a cluttered apartment in Brooklyn (I know, because she sent a photo) with two cats. At the time, I couldn't believe that a girl could live in a big apartment building in the city. No yard? No garden? No place to ride a bike? I learned a lot that year.

So, I wondered recently: Why couldn't I try the whole pen pal thing again as an adult? Could I find a woman in another country, perhaps, who would be willing to write each other letters for a year via a blog that we'd share? What could we learn from each other -- two strangers -- about friendship and life and happiness through the experience?

And, halfway across the globe, Valentina Russo, a woman in Marseille, France, as decided to give it a try and become grownup, modern-day pen pals. Like me, Valentina is 30, and works in the communications/media field. But unlike me, she speaks five languages (her English is fluent, and adorable at the same time!) and not a mother yet, and wondering if it's in her future. She also seems to have a certain zest for life that I admire -- and this is apparent only from our first few letters. I think we have a lot to learn from each other, and we've made a commitment to write frequently for a year.

Want to read along and see our friendship unfold? Our blog is called Franglish. Stop by and send us some love!

Life, forever changed by peanuts

2008-04-15T20:28:00.000-07:00

It came on so suddenly, I hardly knew what was happening.

Yesterday, while I was shopping at Trader Joe's with my 15-month-old son, Carson, he started whining for a box of crackers he saw on the snack aisle. I opened the box in the checkout aisle, and gave him one: a tiny little organic peanut butter cracker.

Actually, a tiny little organic peanut butter cracker that could have ended his life.

He put the cracker into his mouth and instantly spit it out. Then he played with it until it disintegrated in his hands. By the time I buckled him into his car seat, he was rubbing his eyes. I thought he was tired. We drove a few miles down the road to pick up Jason, my husband, at work (he works at a hospital), and when I turned around to look at Carson I almost screamed.

My little baby was blotchy and red. There were purple hives all over his face and down his neck. His eyes were swollen. His hands were red and blotchy.

I knew in an instant: He was having an allergic reaction to peanuts.

We rushed him to the clinic, across the street, where they had an Epi Shot waiting. Because he didn't swallow the cracker, it wasn't necessary as his reaction was much lighter than it could have been. They gave him an antihistamine, instead, and a referral to an allergist.

Later, when we got home, and I had a chance to wind down and process what had just happened (Note: This whole experience didn't even phase Carson. He was all puffy and swollen and red with this huge grin on his face walking into the clinic. He smiled at all the kids (who looked back at him a little horrified) and tried to say "fish" when he noticed the aquarium in the waiting room), I realize what a life changing thing had just happened.

While about 20 percent of kids can "grow out of" peanut allergies, the majority have them for life. So, Carson is going to have to learn, from an early age that he has to be extra diligent about what he eats; that a kiss from someone who has just eaten a peanut butter cookie could be the kiss of death (yes, I will be interviewing his potential girlfriends for their ability to take this seriously); that he can't have any peanuts on the airplane, or sit next to someone who has (breathing in the vapors from the bag could be very harmful); and that carrying epinephrin with him at all times is a new way of life.

And with this new reality, Jason and I find ourselves blaming ourselves. Did we introduce peanut butter too soon? Most experts say after 12 months, it's OK, but to be safe, wait till 3. What was I thinking? Was this just hereditary? My mom's late father had food allergies. Maybe a connection? According to some troubling statistics, food allergies in children have more than doubled in the past 10 years? WHY? What the heck is going on here?

I've thrown out all peanut products in our house, including cooking oil, and any other foods that were "processed in plants that contain peanuts." I've made an appointment with an allergist. And tonight, when we went out to a restaurant, I spoke to five staff members, from the waiter to the manager, about whether there was any peanut ingredients in the building. Luckily, it was a pizza place, and the answer was no.

But mostly, we're just reeling from this shock to the system. I've decided that when I explain this all to Carson one day -- when he can understand what I'm talking about -- that I'll tell him about Superman. But instead of peanuts, he had Cryptonite. Not a bad analogy, eh?

So, if you are a peanut-allergy sufferer -- or have a child who is -- please drop me a note. I'm new to this, and a little scared.

The illusive cup of coffee

2008-04-01T21:20:00.000-07:00

I've heard rumors about the new coffee machine, Clover, making its way to some local cafes here in Seattle -- rumors that die-hard coffee fans, like me, are literally falling to their knees in pure joy upon taking a sip. An urban coffee legend? I had to see what all the fuss was about, so today, I visited my fave local cafe to taste for myself.

For the last month or so, this place has been brewing Clover-made coffee. And, for those of you who aren't sure what I'm talking about -- Clover is a startup (or was a startup -- see below, and you'll know what I mean) that plunked more than a million dollars into a new coffee-brewing technology that has high hopes to revolutionize drip coffee. The machine they created sells to coffee shops for about $8,000.

OK, so I was hopeful, but skeptical. I ordered a tall cup of drip -- a Guatemalan blend -- and took a sip.

[Insert sound of triumphant, joyful classical music, as the clouds open up and a ray of light shines down on my coffee cup.]

This coffee is pure, unadulterated heaven. I nursed the cup down to the very last drop, then schemed, all the way home, about how I could convince Jason that we need one of these machines. That we can't live without it. That we should stop putting money into Carson's college fund, and instead create a Sarah's Clover Coffee Machine Fund.

But, there was no point even going there, because the company was just sold (last week) to ... guess who ... Starbucks.

Interview with "Violet" author Melissa Walker

2008-03-15T22:31:00.000-07:00

Today I'm talking to NYC writer Melissa Walker. I've never met Melissa, in person anyway, but somehow I get the feeling that if we lived in the same city, I'd invite her to all of my parties (not that I'm throwing many these days with a baby in the house). She's fun and down to earth -- and also a writer with a voice I admire.

Melissa just published her second book, "Violet by Design," a follow up to her successful first young adult novel, "Violet on the Runway." Here's what she had to say about fashion, writing, life in general:

SJ: Except for my obsession with The Babysitters Club series in the 80s, I am a bit of a newcomer to young adult (YA) fiction. How did you find yourself writing in this genre and what about the category do you get excited about?

MW: I honestly think it was the ELLEgirl audience who inspired me—they were such smart, funny girls and I got to the point where I wanted to write more for them.

I love writing for teenagers because I think they’re such an honest, open audience. They’ll tell you if they LOVE a story and they’ll call you out if something just sucks.

SJ: What is your advice to writers who want to break into YA fiction writing? Be up on trends? Channel your inner 17 year old?

MW: No need to be up on trends as long as you can tap into the real emotions that you felt when you were 17. Teen years hold some of the most poignant moments in life—my life anyway—and if you get those moments down, if you can tell them in a way that resonates, it doesn’t matter if you’re trendy or old-fashioned. The most important thing is that the FEELING of what you write is true.

SJ: A lot of people can only dream of making it to where you are at right now — working as a full-time writer, NYC no less. I’m there too, except in Seattle, where it rains. A lot. But, back to writing: As much as I love this gig, sometimes it can feel isolating. What kinds of things do you do to keep your work fresh and to beat feelings of isolation?

MW: I go to the gym, I make plans most nights of the week to see friends, I talk to my coffee shop lady, I shoot the breeze with the UPS guy when he comes. Basically, I take any chance for interaction I can get. Because you’re right—isolation can become a problem. It also seems to have caused a phone phobia—seriously, I hate answering my phone during the day!

SJ: Fashion is a big part of your VIOLET books. Curious: do you know a lot about fashion (the history of Chanel, the latest and greatest new designer to hit Milan)? Or maybe the question is, do you care about fashion — as in, do you save up your pennies to buy a designer dress or just head to Target? (And, just so you know, you’re talking to someone who wears Uggs and yoga pants most days. What can I say? I have a toddler.)

MW: As an editor at ELLEgirl, I interviewed a lot of fashion types and up-and-coming models. So I know a little bit, and I’ve gotten to go to a few fashion week shows. I also got to attend Fashion Week in Sao Paulo, Brazil once, which was a crazy enlightening experience. I keep up with fashion blogs, I enjoy knowing just the basics, but no, I can’t name season, designer and line in one glance.

SJ: I read something recently, I think it was from Anna Quindlen, about the importance of not confusing your life with your work. This resonated with me, since most of the time my work feels like my life: It’s what I think about a lot — way too much. It’s what I get excited about. It’s what I worry about. And on and on. I’m fortunate to love what I do, but big note to self: Work should not, and does not, define me. On that not, writing aside, what else is brewing in your life?

MW: Ooh, this is a blurry line for me, too. I’m recently engaged, though, so I’ve at least stopped working long enough to date someone for a while, right? I also have fantastic friends and a pretty healthy social calendar—I love a good beer garden. And I do yoga and run in the park. That’s pretty much it. Mostly, I write and work. (Because I really love it!)

It was bound to happen

2008-03-09T22:11:00.000-07:00

Mothers cherish the milestones in their babies' lives. First they babble, then they crawl. They toddle, then they're saying "mama." Well, last week, my son hit another milestone. This one, well, I'm not so thrilled about. Why, you ask? He's learned how to turn the TV on and off.

It was cute at first. "Oh look, he turned the TV on, can you believe that!"

But that didn't last long. Especially when I was watching something really important on the evening news, and he walked over and turned it off, giving me a look as if to say "hah, look who's in charge now!"

Or when it was time for bed, and he trotted over to the screen with his little pointer finger and hit the "on" button -- again.

You get the idea.

At least he's not surfing the Web yet. I have that to be grateful for.

Some of this, some of that

2008-03-05T19:10:00.000-08:00

I have been a very bad blogger. This week, I find myself with several deadlines, a boy who has decided he's not into napping, and a to-do list the length of a football field. Wait a minute, that sounds like last week, and the week before that, and the week before that. Yeah, earth to Sarah: life is busy.

I'd like to give you some updates by way of my favorite literary tool, the list:

*I'm writing several really great articles for CNN.com right now. Check the "lifestyle" tab this month and next for my byline. Seriously, you're going to get a kick out of several of these stories. One of them, hands down, makes the Top 10 Favorite Stories I've Written list.

*Recently, I bought the book "Your Spirited Child" on Amazon. Because, you know, I'm raising one. Funny thing happened: When it came in the mail today (I should mention, it's a used book), one of the corners had clearly been chewed off by the previous owners, or rather, the previous owner's spirited child. It looked like some kid took a bite out of the bottom corner -- chomped it right off. I had to laugh at this. Clearly, someone else's spirited child is more spirited than my spirited child. Still, I'm keeping the book away from Carson.

*My agent is sending out my novel to publishers this week. It's an exciting, and scary, time for a writer -- knowing that your work is being read by editors at the big houses, that your agent might call at any moment with NEWS, that you may be gearing up for a big rejection, all the while worrying that you should have fixed that dialogue on page 33, or the description on page 128, or the ending or the beginning or the middle. You get the idea. I'm hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst. No matter the outcome, my husband I are cracking open a bottle of champagne to celebrate the milestone.

*Just wondering: Does everyone in America suddenly have Celiac disease? Do I have Celiac disease?

*In the period of three days, I have fallen in love and fallen out of love with a home. Not mine, but a house down the block that just went up for sale. On Monday I was certain we should buy it, tear it down, and build our dream home. I envisioned dogs and kids and friends frolicking in the backyard, the smell of BBQ in the air. By today, it was just "meh." Funny how house-shopping can be such an emotional rollercoaster. I have shed more tears over houses in the last 6 years.

*I'm doing some new features this spring for Hallmark magazine, one of my new favorite publications. Every time I pick up this mag, I learn something, tear up about something, or just smile. One of the stories I've been assigned is particularly exciting. I can't give too many details, like why, how, who, or when, but let's just say check the mag next year for a particularly fun dinner story, which will be shot in my home and surrounding neighborhood.

*I also feel compelled to tell you that I'm eating vanilla bean cheesecake right now.

Jazz apples and Cara Cara oranges

2008-02-26T17:53:00.001-08:00

How can I put this delicately? Life with a toddler can get, well, kind of bland sometimes.

You know the drill: Same old routine, same old grocery store shopping list (bread, whole milk, baby food, cereal, repeat). So, for me, nothing cures the blahs better than a day out with a friend, a challenging writing assignment, a new adventure with my little guy (he's into looking at flowers this week, so off to the park we go), or a few great new discoveries at the market.

Today, during a quick trip to the green market for dinner and a few staples, two things caught my eye in the produce aisle. I recalled one of my editors telling me about Cara Cara oranges -- a sweet juicy orange variety that a lot of people are buzzing about right now. So, I bagged some up.

And then, among the bins of everyday apples, I came across organic "Jazz apples." These small, almost baby-sized, are supposed to be extra tart and crunchy with a tangy, lemony sweetness. I could almost hear Stan Getz playing somewhere as I picked out a few; I couldn't help but let my mind wander the direction of an apple tart, or maybe a simple crisp (which I've been craving ever since I saw Ina Garten make one on the Food Network recently).

So, there you have it: The cure for my day of toddler blahs: apples and oranges. Oh, and an apricot croissant. That helped, too.

The truth about motherhood

2008-02-23T14:11:00.000-08:00

Hello from San Diego. I'm here visiting my sister, who just had a baby -- her second, an adorable, healthy, and totally mellow baby boy. And it's the mellow part I want to talk about today: Of course, I'm thrilled that my sister has been blessed with an easy baby, but part of me is envious, too.

It's not really because my son, Carson, screamed for the first six months of his life (I wouldn't wish colic on anyone) or the fact that he whined for the next four months. But it's really because in the four days I've been here, my toddler has cried more than her infant. I probably should mention that Carson is 14 months old (AKA: too old to be having newborn-style meltdowns all the time).

In fact, as I'm sitting here typing, I'm recovering from one of Carson's meltdowns, or as my sister, my mom and I have all named it "the meltdown that will go down in infamy." It started in the car, and then continued in the restaurant. He screamed and kicked. He threw food and wailed. He drew a crowd of onlookers, and a few dirty looks. He nearly was the cause of a car accident.

And this went on for about three hours.

I don't know where I'm going with this post. I'm kind of discouraged, kind of tired, and kind of in need of a drink (I know, it's 2 p.m. -- shame on me). I guess what I'm trying to say is that motherhood is not all giggles and cupcakes. Frankly, I believe it's the most exhausting job in the world.

And I'm not going to follow this up with "but it's such a joy and such a blessing." Of course it is. But I think it's OK to just take a deep sigh and be honest about the fact that my son nearly kicked my butt today.

Maybe things will be better tomorrow. (And, just to remind myself, I'm including a photo from an outing a few days ago, to the beach in La Jolla where Carson walked on the sand for the first time.)

Interview with "The Opposite of Love" author Julie Buxbaum

2008-02-18T16:14:00.000-08:00

Today, I'm speaking to Julie Buxbaum, the fabulous new author of the recently released book "The Opposite of Love." Julie is 30 (like moi, whose birthday is today, in fact!), a first time author who is seeing a lot of success and acclaim for her first work of fiction, and as you'll see, below, an inspiration to people who are thinking about making a big life change in the name of happiness and fulfillment. Here's my conversation with Julie:

SJ: I'm always fascinated with people who make bold moves. And, from what I know about your story, you are certainly one of them. It had to be frightening quitting your job at the law firm (especially after working so hard for that degree!), and looking ahead to the unknown. How did you justify such a leap? Did you know that when you quit, you'd be working on your book, or did that come later?

JB: I have to admit, I was scared to quit, but I realized that it was something I just had to do. There came a point where I just couldn't handle another Sunday night where I was dreading Monday morning at the office. It seemed ridiculous to spend ninety percent of my waking hours in a career in which I was unfulfilled, when I hadn't even seen what else was out there. I'd always dreamed of writing a book, so when it was time to leave the law, I figured it was my shot. When I sat down to write THE OPPOSITE OF LOVE I made the decision that no matter what happened--if my novel ended up being just a pile of paper that lived in a drawer for the rest of my life--the experience of writing it would be enough. So the fact that I have made a career out of writing feels--to mix my cliches--like icing on the cake and nothing short of a dream come true.

SJ: In life, I fear these things most: rats, snakes, and evil bloggers (and if I had a book out right now, book critics would probably be on the list, too). Rats and snakes aside, book publishing kind of puts you out there, and I wonder how you prepare yourself for that as a new author. For instance, when you wake up one morning and realize that some snarky blogger has said something not-so-nice about you, how do you deal with that? Roll your eyes and say "whatever," or maybe call your best friend for sympathy?

JB: No doubt about it, I find it strange and terrifying that my novel puts me out there, especially because writing is such a solitary and personal exercise. When you write, you can't think about what's going to happen years later, when those words are in an actual book on a shelf that someone is going to buy (hopefully!) and read and comment on. When I read anything about the book, the first thing I do is try to learn something from it. Do I agree with what this person says? Disagree? If there is some constructive criticism there, I try to put my ego aside and hear it. If you look at the Amazon comments for your absolute favorite book in the world--the one that you think is a masterpiece--I guarantee there are a bunch of people who have called it crap. The truth is this is all subjective, and I try to find comfort in that idea.

SJ: When you got your book deal, how did you celebrate? A fabulous dinner out? A pair of (wildly expensive) new shoes? Several joy-filled screams in the street?

JB: My husband (then boyfriend) took me out for a casual dinner, and I spent much of the evening shell-shocked. I just kept repeating, "Can you believe it? I don't believe it? Can you believe it?" I was incapable of conversation beyond that for a good twenty-four hours. The next day, I visited my local bookstore and checked out where my book would live in the fiction section and who would be my alphabetical neighbors. I remember just staring at the shelf and smiling to myself. Pretty great moment.

SJ: Now that you're not bustling between the courthouse and the boardroom, what does a typical day look like for you?

JB: I roll out of bed around nine am, and change from my sleeping pj's to my day pj's. Recently, I've upgraded from full fledged pajama pants (with polka dots) to lounge pants, and for that my FedEx guy is very grateful. I think he was starting to worry about me. I walk about ten feet to my dining room table, which I use as a desk, though there is a perfectly good desk right next to it, because the table faces out a window. When I sit here, as I am doing right this moment, I am easily fooled. Whatever I am doing here cannot be called "work." If I am in the middle of a first draft, I'll write till I take a break for lunch, and maybe an afternoon shower to clear my head. And then it is either back to my desk to keep plugging along, or perhaps, if I'm in need of some human interaction, I'll put on some real people clothes and head to a nearby coffee shop to work for the rest of the day. I try to keep a pretty normal working schedule, but I am not always that diligent.

SJ: Are you working on any future projects that we can keep our eyes out for?

JB: I am currently at work on my second novel, but not sure yet when it will be released into the world. I'll keep you posted!

Baby's first trip to Pike Place Market

2008-02-14T13:57:00.000-08:00

The sun was out today (if you have survived a Seattle winter, you know how exciting this is), so I chucked my normal routine, begged forgiveness from my editors, and played hookie with Carson. We went to Pike Place Market.

A longtime Seattleite, I am a little ashamed to say that I rarely get down to the Market -- unless guests are in town. There are plenty of nearby farmer's markets, plus every grocery store a girl can imagine, near my home. But today, I had a reason to drive downtown: a stop at Le Panier to pick up Jason's Valentine's Day surprise: a Napoleon. In the process, I found myself giving my 1 year old a culinary tour of Seattle.

First, we visited the fish market, where a toothless fishmonger played peek-a-boo with Carson, who thought this was great fun. Next stop: produce stand, where we both fell in love with these gorgeous miniature eggplants and filled our bag with other treasures (sweet onions, carrots, heirloom tomatoes, yellow squash, and a few other things that I can't remember right now).

From there we buzzed over to the original Starbucks. I'll admit, I get a little sentimental about this place, even though I much prefer smaller cafes where shots of espresso are pulled by hand. But there's something special about the very first Starbucks. It's worn and torn, with a certain patina to everything, unlike the shiny new monochromatic stores everywhere else. It's kind of like the management just decided to let this place be, and I'm glad they did.

Carson pointed to Beecher's cheese shop, so we stopped in for a quick look at cheese being made (big vats of curds and way!). I tried to explain what was going on to him, but he was already interested in something outside: of course, a dog.

After standing on the curb visiting with a friendly looking mutt for a few minutes, we popped in to Michou for lunch (me: a divine chipotle chicken sandwich, and Carson: rosemary lentil soup) and then made our way to the grand finale: Le Panier.

One loaf of bread, two eclairs, a slice of apricot tart tatin, and a Napoleon later, we called it a day. But, not before I passed the spot where my teenage self was kissed by her then teenage lead-singer-in-a-band boyfriend. In an instant, I was 17 again, at the peak of Seattle's grunge/punk scene, smitten with a guy with a mohawk (yes, you've probably heard him on the radio, and no, I'm not telling you who). I looked down at Carson, who looks more like Jason everyday, and smiled deeply. It was a gift to remember how grateful I am that life turned out the way it did. Besides, I would have made a terrible groupie.

A flower primer for men

2008-02-14T09:50:00.000-08:00

Happy Valentine's Day! My husband surprised me with a gorgeous vase of pink roses this morning, which sent Carson into tears. Roses are a little scary, I guess.

Anyway, today, I have a message for men: Buying your gal roses today? Let me pass on a few friendly tips:

*Skip the baby's breath. Really, tell the gal at the floral counter no.

*Step away from the carnations. That's all that needs to be said.

*A nice, compact round bunch is lovely (think of a wedding bouquet, in a vase).

*Go with one color (i.e., a bunch of orange roses, or a bunch of pink tulips, rather than a mixture of the two).

Fear of drug stores during flu season

2008-02-13T23:13:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: I give you full permission to shake your head at me after reading this post. Heck, I'm even shaking my head at me. But I must fess up and share: I absolutely, positively, detest going to the drug store during cold and flu season -- so much so, in fact, that I pull a Bill Murray a la "What About Bob" (you know, when he opens all the door handles with a paper towel?).

But today -- cringe -- I had to go. And when I arrived, the place sounded like a symphony of sickness:

Cough, cough. Sniffle, sniffle. SNEEZE.

I hurried. I held my breath. I Pureled. And then when I got to the checkout line, and turned my head for a second, the cashier was (gulp) holding my son's hand.

Noooooooooooo! Don't touch the baby with those germy hands that have probably just rung up the purchases of 321 people carrying the flu!

This is what I was thinking. Of course, I didn't say it. Instead, I smiled and paid, then booked it to the restroom to wash Carson's hands before he could start sucking his thumb.

I told you you'd be shaking your head.

But please tell me you can relate. Maybe just a teeny bit?

Mineral makeup hazards?

2008-02-10T22:40:00.000-08:00

I love my new mineral makeup. It feels nice knowing that I'm not dousing my skin in chemicals and preservatives every morning. But today I got to thinking: With all the dust flying around (or rather, minerals), is breathing in all those particles during the application process harmful to my health? If you've tried this type of makeup, you know it's a tad messy.

OK, so I've gone from worrying that my makeup is toxic to worrying that it's giving me lung cancer. Forgive me for being a tad paranoid. But, please weigh in on this issue. What do you think?

P.S. I'm typing this, for the very first time, on my new Mac! Already lovin' it, even though I'm a little slow figuring things out. I have to admit, I do miss the ol' right click. Hugs and kisses to Jason for spending the better part of the weekend archiving old files, emails, and doing the transfer. It was a big job, and it's nice to have my very own (and quite handsome!) tech guy!

Cake on the brain

2008-02-08T22:30:00.000-08:00

I have a confession to make: I've been thinking about cake -- a lot. Lemon, chiffon, white chocolate, fondant, all kinds, really. I'll be interviewing someone for a story, and there goes the brain: to cake. Here's an example:

Interview subject: "Bla, bla, bla ..."

Me: Hmm, I wonder if I can cut this interview short and bake a chocolate cake before Carson wakes up from his nap? Or maybe I should drive over to my favorite bakery later (Simply Desserts)?"

Interview subject: "Bla, bla, bla -- bla!"

Me: Did he just say CAKE?

Here's the weird thing: Ask anyone who knows me -- this craving is completely out of character. In fact, my mom had to make pies for my birthday parties as a child because I hated cake. (Yep, she decorated them with birthday candles and all!)

I've learned, through researching a new story I'm writing for Health magazine (keep an eye out this spring!), that food cravings can be as powerful as drug cravings. Whoa!

What are you craving?

The family plate

2008-02-07T19:30:00.001-08:00

You've heard of the "family bed," right -- you know, when the kids sleep with the parents? While Carson is (thank you Lord) content in his own crib, I think we've got an issue going on with the dinner plate. Let me explain.

Recently, we realized that the baby food days were nearing an end when Carson, our 1 year old, started pointing to my plate and screaming as if to say "hey, give me some of the good stuff!"

Things were going well for a while: We started feeding him more real food, just chopped up and pureed a bit. But as babies tend to do, he figured things out. Carson soon realized that he wanted the food that was on our plates, not in his bowl. (Um, he also seems to want what's in my wine glass, but as they say, Pinot Noir is not for sippy cups.) So, now we (me and baby) eat from the same plate.

But tonight, Carson threw another curve ball: He started pointing wildly at Jason's plate across the table. He wanted what daddy was having -- and he wanted it NOW!

I had to laugh when Jason suggested that Carson would be much happier if we all ate off the same plate, or maybe chowed down together at a communal feeding trough. Quite an image, isn't it?

I guess no one said parenthood was dainty.

What will they think of next?

2008-02-05T10:08:00.000-08:00

Have you heard of the new water bottle from Arrowhead? It's billed as an "eco-shape" bottle. The idea is that it uses 30 percent less plastic so it's environmentally friendly. Are you rolling your eyes right now along with me? Better idea: Ditch the plastic bottles for a Sigg, or another reusable bottle. My Sigg, in fact, would probably take a prominent place on my can't-live-without list. Really.

How do you store bread?

2008-02-03T20:15:00.000-08:00

Everyone I know seems to have a different way to store their favorite loaf: in a bag, in the fridge, in a bread box, on the counter -- you get the idea. Personally, I've been thinking about purchasing a bread box, since plastic is not only a problem environmentally speaking, but it also seems to trap a lot of moisture. Soggy bread = gross.

What's your fail-proof method?

Trans fat alert

2008-02-01T22:47:00.001-08:00

You're up on the health dangers of trans fats, as we all are now, so when you go to the grocery store, you know to steer clear of products that contain that scary stuff. You give yourself bonus points, even, for spotting products labeled "trans fat free."

But maybe, like me, you didn't know that, by law, a product can still contain trans fat even if it says it doesn't. Yep. I learned by trial and error:

I normally shop at green markets, Whole Foods, and Trader Joe's stores, so trans fat is usually not an issue (these stores do not carry products that contain TFs). But, the other day I was busy and was trying to combine my shopping in one area of the city -- so I went to a different store.

I needed tortillas, preferably organic. No luck there. So, I decided it wouldn't kill me to buy non-organic tortillas, as long as I could find a pack that was free of TFs. With no time to read a long ingredient label with a fussy boy in my arms, I grabbed a pack of "Mission" tortilla's labeled "0 grams trans fat."

Then, a few hours later, at home, I read the ingredient label. I was horrified to find the words "partially hydrogenated" right there in black ink (see below for proof) -- on my tortillas. Friends, as you know if ya see "partially hydrogenated" it's code for TRANS FATS.

Nina Planck has a great article about this very topic in the February issue of Bon Appetit. In short, if a food product contains less than .5 grams of trans fat per serving, the manufacturer isn't required to declare it. And not only that, but they can call it "trans fat free."

Can you believe that?

So, say you have three quesadillas. You'll eat about 1.5 grams of trans fat, which is about a teaspoon and a half of trans goodness (fat that researchers say goes straight to the belly, I might add).

Appetizing, eh?

Morals of the story:

*Read ingredient labels, even if the baby is fussy.
*Maybe drive across town to a store that sells quality products.
*Beware of claims on food products.
*Make your own tortillas (they're really good).

Things I thought I'd NEVER do

2008-02-01T15:19:00.000-08:00

Funny how being a mom makes you change in ways you never thought possible. Here is my list:

*Minivans: Nope, I don't drive one. Love my Volvo. But I have to admit, the thought has crossed my mind. Dear Lord, help me.

*Ground coffee: I used to be a whole-bean purist, but that darn coffee grinder wakes up the baby.

*Yoga pants and Uggs: My uniform.

*Buying your kid the thing he's screaming for (and won't let go of) at the store: Yep, I'm that mom.

*Using your clothing as Kleenex: I probably don't need to elaborate.

*Elmo: I never could relate, but now, oh I TOTALLY GET IT. Mornings without Elmo, well, they're just not good. (Still, though, I do have some standards: We're a Barney-free household.)

What's on your list?

Good Mom, Bad Mom

2008-01-31T13:12:00.000-08:00

Everyone knows that when it comes to mothering, there is no perfect. Yet, I've found there are days when I deserve an A- and days when I probably should get a D. I love Babble.com's "Bad Parent" feature, and it got me thinking about the good and bad mom moments in my day (and maybe yours too?):

Good Mom

5:30 a.m.: I don't complain when Carson decides to wake up early. Instead, the second I hear his cry I'm there -- by his crib smiling with a big GOOD MORNING SUNSHINE!

8:00 a.m.: Even though I have email to respond to and other important things to do, I sit next to him and play.

9:30 a.m.: So what if he doesn't want to nap, that's OK. We'll read books for the next hour instead.

11:30: Today we're having homeade soup, and pureed apples and spinach that I made last night.

1:30: While baby is napping, I clean the playroom, do an interview, wipe down the high chair, get dinner rolling, and plan an educational outing for later in the day.

3:00: We head to the zoo, to teach Carson about birds (which he is currently wild about).

4:00: I give him a healthy snack of sliced kiwi and whole grain crackers and cheese.

5:30: Dinner is on the table, the house is clean, and somehow I've finished two articles, too.

7:00: Carson gets a nice bath, storytime, and is happily in bed.

Bad Mom

5:30: I say "not again" when I look at the clock, stumble into Carson's room and hardly wish him a good morning. It's way too early for pleasentries.

8:00: He watches Elmo while I doze off for a few minutes on the couch (hey, he was up three times last night!).

9:30: It's naptime, so why the heck is he resisting? Instead of running to him when he puts up a fight, I let him cry a little, and he falls asleep a while later. I feel bad, but not that bad.

11:30: Lunchtime: I open a can of Annie's stars and cheese soup. Hey, at least it's organic. But he doesn't want to eat it, or anything else, so I cave and feed him more string cheese. All the while, I'm wondering if a child can survive on a diet of only string cheese.

1:30: When he's down for his afternoon nap, I feel like I should wipe down the high chair, tidy the playroom, and get organized for the afternoon, but I'm too tired. I tell myself I need to work on an article, but instead I spend the hour on PerezHilton.com.

3:00: I'm too exhausted to even think about packing up the baby and heading to the zoo, or any other place. So we stay home. The only thing Carson seems to want to do is play with the dog's water bowl. After four "redirects" I finally give in, pretending not to notice him splashing around in there. Later I feel bad, and wash his hands. Eww.

4:00: Snack time: We go to the drive-thru Starbucks and he has bites of my scone.

5:30: Dinner is not on the table. The house is not clean. And my articles are not done.

8:00: After pizza has arrived and been devoured, I decide that bathtime would take too much energy. He's not that dirty, I tell myself. Plus, um, my show is almost on.

Is this normal?

2008-01-29T13:23:00.001-08:00

Yesterday, I made a mad dash to Whole Foods in search of dinner. Carson loves grocery shopping with me. He has fun pointing at things that he recognizes, like carrots and oranges and baby food jars.

But, yesterday I discovered something new about Carson -- and let me tell you, my reaction was whoa.

Let me give you some back story first: Sometimes when I'm at Whole Foods around lunchtime, I'll grab a cup of soup from the soup bar, and sit for a bit, giving Carson a few bites. I've done this maybe two or three times.

So, back to yesterday. We passed the soup bar area, and he started pointing and whining and then SCREAMING. Obviously he was trying to tell me something, but what? Big tears were rolling down those chipmunk cheeks like you wouldn't believe. I couldn't figure out what was going on. Did something frighten him?

Then it hit me: He wanted soup, and in a major way!

Maybe it's me, but I thought food-related tantrums were for the terrible twos. Carson is 1. In any case, next time I go back to Whole Foods, I'm going to make a detour -- around the soup station.

Interview with Vicki Glembocki

2008-01-27T10:07:00.000-08:00

If you're anything like me, the first year of motherhood was an adjustment -- a big one. And if your baby is colicky (like mine), it's that much more of a shock to the system. In the last year, I kept wishing someone would write a no-holds-barred book about new mommyhood -- the ups and the downs, the pretty and the ugly times. And, how thrilled I was to see that a writer friend of mine, Vicki Glembocki had done just that! Her new book, just hitting bookstore shelves now (so go pick up a copy!), The Second Nine Months is receiving lots of praise for being an honest look at life after pregnancy. And if you've ever read Vicki's work (she contributes to Fit Pregnancy and has a new column in Women's Health) you probably know, and love, her frank, laugh-out-loud, tell-it-like-it-is style. Vicki took time out of her busy book-release schedule to answer a few of my questions:

SJ: Finally, someone is willing to give the dirt on motherhood (the stuff we all go through, but don't really talk about)! For a long time, I thought I was the only new mother on earth who felt that the first several months of babyhood were, um I'll be honest, a NIGHTMARE. From the worry to the sleep deprivation and all the crying in between (both by me and my colicky son), I wondered for a long time if I had ruined my life by having a child. When you were going through the hard stuff with your daughter (who you mentioned was colicky), what got you through?

VG: Honestly, I have no idea. Wine didn't help. My husband didn't help. Oprah didn't help. In retrospect, I like to tell myself that what got me through were those brief moments when I actually felt like I'd done something right--figuring out, for example, that she napped well in a swing (where I then put her, like, 24-7). But I didn't feel that way very often. I felt like time had stopped--that I would forever be sitting on THIS couch in THESE stinky sweatpants with THIS screaming baby refusing to latch on to THIS perpetually exposed boob, for the rest of my entire life. I didn't recognize that this stage would pass, because I didn't know what was a stage and what wasn't, what was normal and what was me sucking at it all. I had no frame of reference. I just assumed that I was the only woman on earth who didn't have the maternal instinct gene, so my daughter and I were, basically, screwed.

SJ: I'm sure there are a million funny, and downright hilarious, stories from the trenches of motherhood in your book, which I can't wait to read. Can you share one with us? Maybe one that wasn't so funny at the time, but now gets you chuckling a bit?

VG: Well, there was the time when I was sitting on that couch, with those boobs hanging out, Blair reclining on the "My Brest Friend" nursing pillow hooked around my waist, me trying to coax her to latch on for the 427th time, when the dog started to bark in the backyard. And he wouldn't stop barking. And his barking was freaking Blair out. And it was freaking me out. And he needed to be stopped. So I stood up, walked over to the sliding glass door to the back porch, threw it open, stepped outside, and yelled...to find the dog...barking...at three men from a tree service who were in my yard working on cutting down my neighbor's tree...and now they were all staring up at me. And Blair. And My Brest Friend. And my boobs.

SJ: What do you think about mothers who claim that their babies are "easy"? Do you think there is such thing as an easy baby (I'm praying I get one someday), or do you think they're fibbing a bit?

VG: I know there are easy babies. My second baby, who is eight months now, is the easiest, most laid-back baby on the planet. During the first couple months, though, she was tough--with the sleeping and the crying and the nursing. But she is an easier baby than Blair was. But that doesn't mean that, if I'd had her first, I wouldn't have had a book to write. No way! Yes, Blair was colicky, but the nightmare of the crying wasn't the entire problem. The problem was the transition into motherhood, the sudden identity shift--"Yesterday? No baby. Today? Baby." I went through a legitimate identity crisis, trying to puzzle out who I was now, what parts of the old me I could mesh with the new"mother" me. These are issues that every new mom can relate to, whether your baby is easy or hard or gassy or pukey. But, at the same time, I do think new moms are afraid to talk about anything they're going through that doesn't jive with the expected "I'm loving every minute of it" line, or the "this baby is the best thing that's ever happened to me," line. I was so terrified that someone would think I was a bad mom, I didn't tell anyone...and THAT was what made me feel so alone. That's why I wrote the book, which is a book I hunted desperately for during those second nine months and couldn't find. Now, someone has said it out loud, someone has told her real story from day one so that other women can know that they aren't the only new moms who think they might be maternal mutants.

SJ: When my son was younger, I used to see those commercials for sleep medications like Lunesta and wished I could just pop a few of those and wake up eight hours later. Yeah right! Do you have any advice for dealing with the horrors of sleep deprivation?

VG: If I had the perfect advice for dealing with the horrors of sleep deprivation, I'd be rich enough to buy every woman reading this a nighttime nanny. That sleep thing? That is the hardest part of it ALL. It's no wonder we feel overwhelmed and like time has stopped and like we want to kill our husbands and our dogs and our mailmen. I can't even make it through breakfast without a good night's sleep, much less months. And months. And months. Until we "cried it out" when Blair was 5.5 months old, she was pretty much waking up every hour, on the hour. And I was back to work. But, after we "cried it out," she slept through the night. And still does. My advice, I think, would be this: don't be afraid to let the baby cry a little. (I can practically hear the attachment- parenting devotees huffing and puffing. Oh. They get sooo mad.)

SJ: What's it like having (gulp) two kids? In particular, what's it like being a successful, productive, and ultra-creative writer while being a mom to two kids? Please tell us it gets easier.

VG: It is so. Much. Easier. Why? Because I know what to expect. I know that "this, too, shall pass." I know that a baby WILL eventually stop crying, a baby WILL sleep through the night, a baby WILL smile and giggle and eat mac-n-cheese. Two has it's own set of challenges, of course, but I'm so much less neurotic this time. I actually enjoyed it. I actually think about having another (do NOT tell my husband this). Working and being a mom is always hard--it was with one, and it is still with two--and I work at home four days a week, with the girls at daycare. These days, I'm really struggling with going off the clock at night, with not checking e-mail until they go to bed, with being entirely present with them. It seems like it should be a no brainer, but it isn't. And, this just goes to show that, even though the second nine months are over, the struggle for balance isn't over. I don't think it'll ever be over.

SJ: Finally, do you have any new projects in the works that we can be looking out for?

VG: I'm writing a monthly column for Women's Health magazine that I'm really psyched about, partly because they let me write about whatever weirdo thing is rattling in my head and, partly because they created an illustration of me to go with the column and the illustrated me is VERY thin and stylish. I love her.

New baby food find

2008-01-27T10:02:00.000-08:00

I picked up this new cereal for my little guy a few days ago -- the little guy who screams and whines and throws fits at breakfast. Clue: Maybe he hated what I was feeding him? Interestingly, as soon as I switched his old cereal for this new stuff, Multi-Grain Cereal (organic with probiotics) from Happy Baby (endorsed by Dr. Sears, too), the fits have diminished. While I can't say there hasn't been an occasional breakfast-time meltdown, I can say that he's happier and he's EATING breakfast. You can find this stuff at Whole Foods.

Running: Why I need to do more of it.

2008-01-26T12:29:00.000-08:00

This morning I decided to go for a jog. I can't even remember the last time this urge struck me. Let's just say, it's been a while. Proof: When I went to go looking for my running shoes, I had to launch a whole-house reconnaissance mission.

But once I found them, and leashed up the dog, it felt good to hit the pavement again -- even if the forecast was calling for snow. I picked up my pace and decided to jog through the ritzier part of the neighborhood -- the streets where nobody cleans their own houses, and I suspect, meals are cooked by personal chefs. Why not check out the lifestyles of the rich and famous while getting some exercise, I reasoned?

The morning was perfect. Just me and the sidewalk -- not another human in sight. I could hear birds singing, trees swaying, and little bits of icy snow pellets hitting the ground. The lavish fountains of my more well-to-do neighbors were frozen solid, as were their front lawns, the ones that look like someone took a cuticle nipper to them.

After a few minutes, my lungs started to feel like they were frozen solid, too, so I slowed down my pace. I could see gratitude in Paisley's eyes (she's my overweight golden retriever). So I just kind of puttered along. And halfway into my morning trek, I realized that I hadn't thought of Carson -- my little boy -- once. I wasn't fretting that his daddy was feeding him inappropriate foods for babies (steak and cupcakes came to mind), nor was I worrying that he was missing me, falling down on the tile floor, or getting into the dog's water. My conscious, for the moment, was worry- and baby-free, and that felt so good.

I've always loved the idea of running. But sticking to a routine is the thing I have trouble with. Somehow, though, this morning's jog gave me the new found energy to try again.

P.S. Those cupcakes I mentioned were made by my friend Kristine: boston cream cupcake to be exact, and equally as delicious as they were sinful.

Today I ate a teething biscuit

2008-01-23T14:21:00.000-08:00

The title of this post kind of describes life right now. Things are a little topsy turvy. The dog is stinky, my office is a little more messy than I'd like to admit, and my son's teeth seem to be all coming in at once. So, we have a lot of teething paraphernalia lying around these days.

This morning I was looking for a treat to dip in my coffee, say a biscotti or maybe a pain au raisin. But no. Sigh. I reached for a vanilla teething biscuit instead. Hey, they're low-cal and organic! What's not to love about that? Only problem was, they also taste a lot like cardboard. Hmph.

Tonight: adult food. We're going out for crepes.

Life, according to the list

2008-01-22T22:09:00.001-08:00

I love lists. They work for the little things in life like shopping or to-dos for your hubby, and big things like dreams and goals. Right now, there seems to be a lot of things on my current list: Some are stressful, others are frivolous, and there's at least one that's quite frankly driving me crazy.

To Do

*Figure out how to get my 1 year old to eat and not a.) spit his food out, b.) throw it at me, and c.) give it to the dog.

*Interview two more sources for an article that is due on Friday (an article that I'm quite proud of, I might add).

*Determine what in the world is causing my office to smell like -- are you ready for this? -- cabbage soup! Last week, I walked into my office and noticed it, and it's been hanging around ever since. A leaky pipe? A (gulp) dead rodent in the wall -- please God no! -- maybe? A rotten container of goat cheese (I do write about food for a living)? No, nope, and nada! We've called plumbers, checked out the crawl space, bought an air purifying machine, tore the place to pieces -- with no sign of anything. Yet this smell is driving me CRAZY.

*Take Carson to the zoo.

*Plan a meal for a friend who is having a baby soon. Her only requests: no celery, and not too many onions, please.

*Put the finishing touches on my book revisions for my agent. "Finishing touches" makes this sound so light and breezy, when really it's going to take all my free time for the next week and a half or more.

*Send a note to one of my favorite editors who has found herself in the hospital with a scary health situation. Get well soon!

*Vacuum, Swiffer, fold laundry, wipe down counter tops. Repeat.

*Figure out how I'm going to celebrate my 30th birthday (next month). A party? Too much work. A trip to the spa? Now that's more like it.

*Create several recipes for a new food story I'm working on. Anyone want to volunteer to taste test?

P.S. Love this blog entry from an editor I've worked with at Glamour -- had to share. I could almost identify with every word!

Poor teddy

2008-01-13T22:35:00.000-08:00

Here is my son, Carson, dangling his beloved teddy bear over his crib. His favorite pastime these days: terrorizing teddy. He threatens to toss teddy over various baby gates, dangles him from his high chair, attempts to feed him to the dog, and chucks him into my office.

Since he can't talk yet, teddy helps him communicate. If he throws his bear in a certain direction, he reasons, we'll get that this is where he wants to go -- sort of like a mountain climber's grappling hook. Carson has the whole thing down to a science: 1.) I want to get out of my crib. 2.) Brilliant idea: I'll throw teddy on the floor, that'll get me out of here. 3.) Hey, why is teddy down there, and why am I still in this crib?! Moooooooooooom?! Get me OUT OF HERE.

But sometimes this throwing-teddy business gets a little, well, inconvenient. Exhibit A: Naps. Exhibit B: Bedtime. You try explaining to a 1 year old that when you fling teddy out of the crib across the room, for the fourth time at 2 a.m., mommy is probably not going to retrieve him for you -- again!

Cast-iron skillet cooking

2008-01-13T21:45:00.000-08:00

Today I pulled out a cookbook I've been meaning to spend some time with for a while now. Someone mentioned chicken and dumplings somewhere -- it might have been on TV, at the cafe, on the radio ... I'm not sure where I heard it, but I knew I needed to make this dish, and fast.

With The Cast Iron Skillet Cookbook in hand, I got down to business this evening. Mission: To make an old-fashioned Sunday dinner. I know, a little cheesy, but stay with me here.

First, there was a mound of shallots, onion, celery, mushrooms, and celery to be chopped. I got the prep work done, then threw the chicken into the skillet. Ack, it began to stick! But, an extra drizzle of olive oil seemed to do the trick.

After the chicken browned, it was the vegetable mixture's turn for a dip in the pan, this time with a bit of butter (I didn't say anything about this meal being low fat). Next up: some flour, to thicken things up, a splash of sherry, broth, and plenty of heavy cream (sorry dieters, this is strike two, I know). I added a splash of white wine for good measure, too. Why not?

While this simmered on the stove, it was time to tackle the dumplings, which were actually so easy that even a nonbaker, like me, could pull them off: cornmeal, flour, baking powder, butter, salt, and milk. I also threw in a dash of oregano. The recipe called for rosemary, but I didn't have any and the plant I had growing in the garden bit the dust last summer when I was too busy with my colicky infant to water it. Consequences.

Carson and Jason watched as I topped things off with little mounds of dough and sent the ensemble into the oven for about 20 minutes. I had filled the skillet just about to the brim, so I worried the whole time, that there might be an eruption in the oven. Um, it's not like this has, um, happened before ... I'm just saying ...

Fortunately, we didn't have a natural disaster on our hands. Nope -- we had a winner. What a meal! Satisfying? Yes. Comforting? Oh yeah. Just the thing I was looking for on this wintry Sunday evening. More cast-iron skillet cooking is on tap for 2008, I think.

Fueled by chocolate

2008-01-09T19:58:00.000-08:00

Chocoholics -- you're going to love this. A group of people from England spent their Christmas holiday driving across the Sahara in a vehicle that was fueled by chocolate (fuel derived from thousands of pounds of discarded chocolate). Just think, next time you head to Chevron your choices may be Unleaded, Premium, Milk, or Dark. Leave it to the Brits!

Haphazard cooking -- and singing

2008-01-09T19:10:00.000-08:00

In a semi state of exhaustion this evening, I plopped the baby in the walker and got cooking. I had no idea what I was making. Ever done this? I call it fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants cooking. It's when you just start pulling things out of the fridge, the pantry, the spice jar -- hoping you can pull together something edible and with no road map or recipe to guide you other than hunger.

Luckily, I had some decent ingredients on hand: a pound of Alaskan Sockeye salmon, a bunch of (slightly wilted) basil, garlic, olive oil, fruit, and a package of really good pasta that I dug out from the back of the pantry and suddenly remembered splurging on it at the market a few months ago.

What to make? Pesto. Yes -- definitely, pesto. I got the Cuisinart fired up, then started steaming the salmon while sending the pasta for a dip in the salted boiling water. While tossing a few crackers to the baby, I chopped up some random fruit (hey -- we have to get our five a day!). Fifteen minutes later, dinner was ready. Five minutes after that, dinner was devoured.

I have been under the weather, so putting together a decent (and healthy) meal felt good -- both because it was nourishing and it was an accomplishment.

Which brings me to Part B of this post. Ever found yourself singing a song, and you catch yourself belting out some ridiculous line that's way over the top WRONG? So, I had a jazz CD on, and some vocalist was doing a rendition of "My Favorite Things." I start singing along, and "doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles" somehow turned into "CRISCO with noodles." Now, I wouldn't touch a canister of Crisco with a 10-foot pole, so I have no idea how this slipped in there. I suppose it could have been worse, maybe "DISCO with noodles." But somehow, right now, that sounds kind of fun.

Move over chicken noodle

2008-01-08T19:20:00.001-08:00

When I'm sick, like I have been this week (don't worry, I'm not contagious!), I turn to soup (and occasionally spill it all over my couch, as I noted in a recent post). But, chicken noodle might soon have some new competition, according to a new report.

Yes, expect some unusual flavors to cross your palate this year, according to trend watchers. For instance, how about a bowl of watermelon bisque? Or maybe pork belly stew? Oh, or surely you're in the mood for some piping hot rhubarb-blood-orange soup (actually, this kind of sounds good).

What unusual blend of soup have you been cooking up lately?

The incredible stain remover you've never heard of

2008-01-06T20:53:00.001-08:00

Our poor couch. This year it has seen many calamities of the baby and non-baby variety. And today, the poor thing got doused by a bowl of vegetable soup. Note to self: Don't hold bowl of soup in one hand while your toddler is playing nearby.

So, I scoured the Web this afternoon, trying to find a magic potion to zap the stain, which had left several horrible spots -- and I found one. Cream of tartar. Yeah, I was a little skeptical too. The stuff that gives your souffles that extra bounce apparently is a stain fighter. Skeptically, I mixed two tablespoons with a bit of water and slathered it on the stains. Two minutes later, voila -- stains gone.

Which brings me to my question of the day: Does anyone know what the heck cream of tartar is?

Interview with writer Ali Basye

2008-01-02T18:39:00.000-08:00

Meet Ali Basye: prolific freelance writer, author of a fab new book "The Long and Short of It: The Madcap History of the Skirt" and wedding guru (she's the editor of Seattle Bride magazine). Hear what she has to say about writing, weddings, time management, and oh yeah, skirts! (I don't know about you, but I'm going to find myself a Gary Graham skirt -- and fast. See below.)

SJ: What a fun concept for a book! Where did you get the idea for it? (There must be some wonderful backstory here!). And, for those of us who haven't yet bought a copy yet (going to the bookstore today!), give us a plump and juicy fact from your pages, please!

AB: The inspiration for the book comes from the fact that I have a background in the arts—I studied Textile Design at Moore College of Art and Design in Philadelphia—and I love history (I even worked my way through college as one of those old time tour guides!) I wanted to do a fashion history book and several ideas were bandied about but the skirt story was the best. For one thing, it's the world's oldest garment. Secondly, no one had done a history book specifically focusing on skirts, which really surprised me.

But my absolute favorite chapter to research was the Hobble Skirt (the skin-tight skirt from the early 20th century that flared mid-calf). This skirt completely underscores the idea of Fashion Victim. Because the skirt only had a four or five inch stride, it all but eliminated high stairs and broad steps. Newspapers had a field day mocking the skirt when it debuted, and crowds would literally gather on street corners to laugh at women mincing along in their tight skirts. Women actually died wearing this skirt, either because they couldn't get out of traffic's way or from a particularly hard fall. Hobbles were banned from the court of England (because you couldn't properly curtsy the Queen in a hobble) and many schools wouldn't allow their students to wear them.

This is all so fascinating to me because the hobble came on the scene at the same time that women were fighting for men to take them seriously in order to earn the right to vote. This quote from the New York Times in 1912 sums it up: "If women want to be able to run for governor, they ought to be able to run for a car…If they want to be legally free they shouldn't be sartorially shackled. There are some so unkind to suggest that trousers would have been better—far better—and much more comfortable [than the hobble skirt]."

SJ: On the subject of skirts, do you wear them often? Because I try, and just feel so darn awkward. I love the thought of wearing a skirt, but pulling it off well is another story. What is your favorite way to wear a skirt -- long, short, with boots, with leggings, over pants?

AB: People always ask me this question now that I've written a book about skirts! The answer is, yes, I love skirts and I have my favorites: Gary Graham makes absolutely fetching skirts that always stop people in their tracks. I've never worn a Gary Graham and not been bombarded with compliments. I’m also a big champion of locally made, natural-fiber clothing—but it has to be stylish! I like Anna Cohen a lot and Carol Young of Undesigned. But my figure is challenging: I have a tiny waist and a bigger butt, so more forgiving styles, like A-line, is always best. I always love a tall, sleek boot or somewhat pointy-toed shoe with a low vamp to make my legs look longer. Also, I live in Seattle where it's damp nine months of the year and I get too cold to wear skirts in the winter. But I ride a bike everywhere and I always pull a stretchy A-line black mini skirt over my pants as a sort of mud guard. It actually looks really chic and keeps me clean if I'm headed somewhere important.

SJ: You have so much going on -- from your work with Seattle Bride to your freelance gigs -- what are your time management tricks?

AB: Lists and highlighters! I make or check my list every morning and I never have more than one list going at a time. So I make sure that doing my laundry is on the same list as making a deadline. So much of being a successful and balanced freelancer is in understanding that balancing my checkbook is as important as interviewing a source or researching a topic. Things I would normally hoard for the evenings or weekends are done during the day at a normal pace so that my downtime is relaxed and uncluttered. Also, I covet highlighters and use them to cross things off my lists, rather than a pen, because it feels more celebratory and finalized!

SJ: Speaking of brides, I know several people who are heading to the alter soon. Any interesting wedding trends that you're excited about for 2008?

AB: There are so many exciting trends for brides these days, mainly because they have more and more freedom to step outside the box. The best weddings are always the most personalized ones, in which couples strive to share their lives with their friends and family in an authentic and stylish way. I'd have to say the trend I'm most excited about is the enthusiasm that couples have for eating seasonally and locally. In the Northwest we are truly blessed with a year-round bounty of options, including wine and spirits and organic or vegetarian meals. Northwest couples can have entire gourmet meals culled from a 50-mile radius of their wedding! Couples also seem to be scaling back a bit, too, which I think is smart. I always remind my brides that they are planning a marriage first and a wedding second. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that.

SJ: Since it's January, I have to ask: What do you think of New Year's resolutions? Love em, hate em? And, do you have any interesting ones this year?

AB: New Year's Resolutions—bah! I try and resolve to do good things for myself all through the year. But I do have one tradition: Every year around the first of December I make an Annual List of my favorite things from that year. I list the year's highlights (a dear friend got married, I had a book published, my uncle survived cancer) as well as low-lights (this year my beloved aunt passed away) so that I can look back and remember what events marked that year. Then I write down what I'm doing at that point and what my goals are for the future. Finally, I list all my favorite things of that moment: Films, books, artists, authors, things to do, foods, people, friends and anything else I can think of. I've been doing this list since I was about 12 and it's so much fun to look back and see what I was reaching toward and what I loved at each year of my life. This year my goals were more conservative: to continue to grow my business, take a trip with my high-school friend Jen with whom I recently reunited, and (finally) learn Spanish.

The new eco IT bag

2008-01-02T11:14:00.000-08:00

Someone sent me a link to the site http://www.envirosax.com/ where I found this swanky bag that can be folded up and stashed in your purse. I'm declaring this the new eco it bag.

New fave song

2008-01-01T20:26:00.001-08:00

I became a mother late last year. Well, it was actually on December 20, 2006 (which seems weird, because it means my 1 year old has lived in three years ... hmm). But this post isn't about motherhood. It's about music. I'm getting to that. But here's my point: 2007 for me was this crazy whirlwind of all-things-baby, and while I like to think I stayed up on things (trends, style, news, celebrity gossip), some things slipped by. Music was one of them.

I'm pretty certain that I'm the last person on the universe to discover Brandi Carlile's song "The Story." I heard it a few weeks ago on the radio and then again the other day. And I'm now, officially, obsessed with it. Obsessed! I have no idea if all the other songs on the record stink, but I want to buy it and put this song on repeat.

This song obsession made me think of others over the years. Here, join me for an embarrassing walk down memory lane:

Third grade: Bon Jovi, "You Give Love a Bad Name" (is that the name of it?)
Sixth grade: Bryan Adams, "Everything I Do"
Eighth grade: Nirvana, "Smells Like Teen Spirit"
10th grade: Smashing Pumpkins, "Today"
2 weeks ago: The CVS Pharmacy Theme Song "Ordinary Miracle."

Don't laugh.

My new web site is live!

2008-01-01T20:14:00.000-08:00

Hi everyone! It's time for the big reveal. My dear friend Wendi has been working tirelessly on my new Web site -- while juggling a photography business, a 1 and half year old, and a million other more important things than this -- these past few months, and it's now LIVE! I couldn't be happier with the site, or more thankful to Wendi. (Learn more about her work here.)

Cheers!

2007-12-31T19:57:00.001-08:00

Happy New Year everyone! The baby is in bed and we're settling in for a quiet night of chocolate, champagne, and a 24 DVD. Party animals, I know. See you all in 08.

Lead -- it's everywhere.

2007-12-31T17:37:00.000-08:00

Fellow parents: Read this really good piece about lead in your child's toys (hint, it's not just in painted toys!). Scary stuff. And, to look up info on the toys you have in your home, visit HealthyToys.org. Yep, that block in the picture above was loaded with lead, recalled a few months ago and happened to be in my baby's nursery. Fortunately, he never played with it. Sigh.

Reusable Shopping Bags

2007-12-31T16:19:00.000-08:00

One of my resolutions this year (and one I intend to make stick!) is to switch over to reusable shopping bags. Now, I've already done this at the grocery store, but when I'm out shopping for, say, clothes, it's a different story. I collect Nordstrom bags like Tammy Fay collects shoes. Time to change that bad habit.

While Christmas shopping this year, I actually brought along my Trader Joes's bags, but felt a little goofy toting the big red grocery sacks around at Macy's. And you know, I think I actually got a few odd looks. I wanted to say, 'hey, don't judge me here people -- I'm sacrificing fashion to save the planet!' Anywho.

So, now I'm on the hunt for a chicer and more functional set of bags -- for non-grocery purchases -- perhaps a type that I can fold down and store in my purse. I recently wrote an article for BeE about a wonderful mother-daughter duo who founded Baggu Bags, and I'm thinking about picking up a set of these. They make great looking ripstop nylon bags. And, the Container Store has some really cute ones too.

Now, on to Resolution No. 2.

Babies and books

2007-12-28T08:55:00.000-08:00

My son is 1, and at present the thing he loves most about life is ... books. As in B.O.O.K.S. We have to spell it out when talking in front of him, because if we utter the word he goes bonkers. He loves them that much.

I recently snapped this photo of him sitting in a sea of books that he single-handedly pulled out of the book basket. He picks the ones he likes best whines a little (his way of saying, "pleeeeeeeease mama, read to me") then chucks the others. Now I realize I shouldn't really be complaining about this, but if you're a parent, you know that reading books to your baby over and over again can be kind of time consuming and, well, a bit monotonous -- especially when he wants to read the same book, I don't know, 50 times in a row.

Jason and I have actually taken to hiding the books. We've covered the basket with a blanket and a chair. When he goes down for a nap, I pick up all the books and tuck them away so that when he wakes up, the book-reading madness can be delayed for a bit. We distract him. We show him other toys and games. Yet somehow, Carson sniffs them out, and we end up reading again -- for hours sometimes.

Currently, these are his favorites: Babycakes; Goodnight Moon; Brown Bear, Brown Bear; Truck Book (it probably has a real name, but this is what we call it); Jamberry; I Love You Good Night; Mommy Loves; and God Loves You Just the Way You Are.

Uh oh, gotta run. You-know-who is standing at the baby gate whining with Babycakes in his hand. Here we go again!

Antifreeze mashed potatoes

2007-12-26T22:12:00.000-08:00

I spent Christmas in San Diego this year. And as much as I love the wintry weather of the Northwest, it was a nice change of pace to celebrate the season with warm breezes, palm trees, and flip flops.

Now that we're home, I'm reflecting on the trip -- traveling with a baby, the importance of family, my disdain for airports and flying in general, and other important things like Christmas cookies and how I can get my hands on more of them.

And I'm sitting here laughing, as I remember a story my sister told me about a recent dinner disaster. She's an amazing cook, and an even more amazing baker, yet, like me, is not immune to the occasional kitchen blooper. Her latest? Antifreeze potatoes.

Here's how she told the story: Her husband was working on the car recently. Hands covered in antifreeze, he scrubbed up and rinsed them over the potatoes she had peeled in the sink. The long and short of it is that Jessica made the scalloped potato dish she planned, but had a little moment of panic when she realized that there might be trace amounts of a lethal substance in each bite. A few minutes later, and after a bit of Googling, she threw it out.

Apparently this sort of thing runs in the family. My mom once made a savory gingerbread cake, by accident. She added garlic powder instead of ginger.

Have a funny cooking accident of your own? Share!

I survived

2007-12-19T20:57:00.000-08:00

So here I am at my desk, enjoying a peaceful evening. I just returned from a quick trip out for a wonderful pedicure and my thoughts have turned to wine and chocolate. Hold on, before you start to get the impression that my life is picture perfect, let me tell you how far I have come. Friends, it's been a YEAR.

Tomorrow is my son Carson's first birthday. And last year at this exact time -- yep, I was in labor. Painful, long and excruciating labor. Anyone who knows Carson knows that he's been, well, a handful. First there was the colic -- which seemed to last an eternity. And it did. Our boy cried the better part of each day for the first five months of his life. We couldn't sit, because he preferred rocking, swinging, jiggling, dancing, and bouncing (oh yeah, burned a lot of calories). Then, there were the sleep issues. For months on end, my boy woke up 3-6 times per night. Believe me, I considered the nights where he only woke three times luxurious. And I'm not kidding. Then there was the daytime sleep issues. Try getting anything done when your kid naps for only 25 minutes (quick meal, bathroom, wipe down the high chair -- and he's up again!). Then there was the constant fussing/intensity. By six months, it seemed that he'd graduated from colic, yet had developed a penchant for whining -- all the time. Every activity brought on a meltdown: car travel, grocery shopping, eating, playing with toys, you name it. Carson just wasn't a happy camper, and neither was I.

And then, somewhere between his 9-month birthday and now, things have kind of come into focus. He's a champion napper (1.5 hours/twice a day tends to be his average). There are days when I never even hear him whine or cry. He's incredibly happy and curious and playful and expressive. And here's the kicker: He SLEEPS THROUGH THE NIGHT, as of this week. And when Jason came home tonight, I actually told him: "You know, I think this was the best day of Carson's life." It really was.

So you can see why I treated myself to a pedicure. And you can probably understand why I'm going to toast this evening. Because it's a huge milestone. Everyone says the first year is hard. Some are even honest and say it like it is: a nightmare. Don't get me wrong. There were lots of moments of joy, too -- and I treasure those -- but this year was hard, perhaps the hardest of my life.

Yet, there was a big pot of gold at the end of this rainbow, and I'm enjoying it right now. I did it, everyone -- I survived the first year. Happy birthday Carson!

Remembering Grandpa

2007-12-16T20:41:00.001-08:00

We spent the day at my parents' house today, an early Christmas dinner with my two grandmothers -- both widows. I never had the opportunity to meet my mom's dad, sadly. And my dad's father, Grandpa Mitchell, passed a way several years ago. We all miss him so much.

Saying that Grandpa had a big impact on my life is quite honestly an understatement. He had a huge impact, and I'd like to tell you a little about him.

I think about Grandpa quite a bit these days -- often when I'm about to make a difficult decision or major life choice. He was wise and consistent -- a man who valued family, integrity, hard work. Sometimes strict, but always compassionate. That was my Grandpa.

My siblings and I sometimes find ourselves asking "What do you think Grandpa would have done?" And I especially wonder if he'd be proud of me now. What would he think about my writing? Would he be excited to know that I've just finished a book? But most of all, I'd like him to meet my son, Carson James. (James was my Grandfather's name).

I got a little lump in my throat tonight when my Grandmother pulled out some old photos of him -- an unexpected Christmas surprise sent to her by one of my Grandpa's Marine Corps buddies who he served with in the South Pacific during World War II. I thought about what a blast from the past this must have been for her -- to see my Grandfather so youthful and handsome, years before she had met him. It was kind of like coming across a time capsule -- but so much better. As she showed me these photos tonight, posted above and below, she talked about my Grandpa -- how they met, how she can still remember him standing across the room at that party looking dashing with his dark hair and handsome grin. And even now, her eyes well up with tears when she talks about this man -- a love that endures beyond the grave, and I'm convinced, will continue through eternity.

So tonight, I'm thinking about Grandpa. I wrote his obituary when he passed, and while it was packed with the facts of his life, there wasn't room for the special things I wished I could say. And these are what come to mind:

*Grandpa taught me how to work. And, I don't mean rake-the-leaves work (though I did my fair share of that!). He taught me the value of work (along with my parents, of course) -- the joy of work.

*Grandpa was generous -- both with his time and his resources. He passed out silver dollars like candy (candy we worked for, of course!), and would welcome me into his "office" where I'd watch him work for hours. As a result, I developed a fascination with sticky notes and office supplies at a young age.

*Grandpa cared for the poor. There was always someone that he was helping. Someone who was down on his luck, someone who needed to earn some money -- someone he could help. He tirelessly gave his time, energy, and resources to the St. Vincent DePaul organization. And he has inspired me, and many others, to remember the poor among us.

*Grandpa made the best pancakes. If I close my eyes, I can picture it: Grandpa, cast-iron skillet in hand; Grandma, blending up orange juice ("Orange Julius" she called it); my sister and brothers and I at the kitchen table; the seagulls calling outside the window; the sound of the waves hitting the beach; smiles all around.

*Grandpa loved his wife. He put her first, and made sure everyone knew that was the way it was. Grandpa came first, period. Theirs was and is an enduring love.

We miss you Grandpa, and love you.

Spreading cheer: try it, it's fun!

2007-12-14T14:28:00.000-08:00

I was listening to the radio while feeding Carson his breakfast this morning (and if you must know, yes, it was the 24-7 Christmas music station!), and one of the DJs mentioned a really heartwarming story about a woman who was in a long line at a drive-through Starbucks recently. Behind her was a an angry person who was irritated by the long line, and showing the gestures to prove her displeasure with the wait. Instead of getting irritated right back, the woman asked the barista if she could pay for the angry woman's drink. She did, and then drove off. Apparently, a barista called in to the radio station to share the story and add that the angry customer melted when this happened; and she promptly bought a drink for the person behind her -- and the chain of giving continued for a good part of the morning.

So, this melted my kind-of-a-bit-Grinchlike heart (fussy babies, assignments, messy house -- who has time for Christmas spirit these days -- bah humbug!) and I decided to give it a try. So I packed up Carson and went to the nearest Starbucks drive-through. I hovered near the entrance, waiting for a car to pull in behind me. When one did, I inched my way up. Ironically, the woman in the car behind me acted very annoyed by this, as if I'd cut her off. I saw her kind of huffing and puffing in my rear view mirror. Little did she know what I was about to do.

I asked the barista what she ordered (a breakfast sandwich) and then paid for it and drove off. In the rear view mirror, I could see a look of shock on her face as the barista gave her the news. At first she looked confused, then touched. She was smiling.

It's not like I paid her mortgage payment or anything, but maybe I made her morning a little brighter. Funny, the experience actually had the exact same effect on me.

Something to make the season bright

2007-12-13T12:42:00.000-08:00

A friend and fellow blogger, Janelle over at Talk of Tomatoes, told me about these sinful temptations, Dark Chocolate Sea Salt Caramels, from Trader Joes, and I picked a box up today. Trust me, you're going to love them. While the flavor combo of caramel, chocolate, and sea salt isn't new -- you'll pay a lot less for a box of these, just $4.99, compared to other high end truffles. And, the quality is really -- surprisingly -- good! Smooth dark chocolate, buttery caramel, and a hint of Dead Sea salt. Mmmm. Kind of a a neat idea for a stocking stuffer or hostess gift, eh?

Days I really love my job

2007-12-12T20:45:00.000-08:00

There are days when I think being a writer is the most difficult occupation -- the most frustrating, isolating, discouraging occupation -- on the planet. And, then there are days like today when I think, "actually, this is a pretty good gig."

I had good conversations today -- with sources, with editors, with publicists. Things sort of came together seamlessly. And then, this afternoon, one of my favorite editors called to inquire about something. I had been sent some samples of a new ice cream product to try -- something I am writing about for a project. She asked me if I'd tried it yet. I hadn't. So my pressing assignment for this afternoon was: taste the ice cream and get back to her about it. Yeah, I know, tough job, huh? So there I was, enjoying a bowl of ice cream (well, sorbet actually) at 3 p.m. It doesn't get much better than that.

A really tasty salad

2007-12-05T21:44:00.000-08:00

Hi everyone. So, this is what we've been eating in my household for the last couple of days. I made a big batch of it because it's a busy week, and cooking isn't at the top of my list (despite last night's souffle foray).

This salad is quite yummy, easy to throw together after a day of writing and baby wrangling --and it's healthy too. You know the drill, I'm too tired to give you a real recipe, so here is the "this and that" version:

Roasted Eggplant, Chickpea and Penne Salad

*Two cans of chickpeas, rinsed and drained

*Cherry tomatoes, halved (you decide how many you'd like)

*Several cloves of garlic, minced

*Two eggplants, sliced into 1/2-inch strips and roasted in the oven with a bit of olive oil and salt (then cut up in bite sized pieces)

*A bit of minced Italian parsley

*A package of whole wheat penne, cooked to al dente

*A squeeze of lemon, and some zest

*A drizzle of olive oil

*A sprinkle of crushed red pepper

*Coarse salt and pepper to taste

Throw it all together and toss in a large bowl. Yup, that simple. Enjoy!

Sweet endings

2007-12-04T21:55:00.000-08:00

Here are my Meyer lemon souffles. Sweet success (even if they didn't rise as high as I would have liked).

The State-of-the-Kitchen Address

2007-12-04T20:17:00.001-08:00

The Meyer lemon souffle is in the oven. Well, souffles, to be accurate. I divided the batter up into six beautiful ramekins. Nineteen more minutes until the oven timer will beep, and I will be in light, fluffy, lemony bliss. I'm crossing my fingers that they turn out -- both because I'd really like to enjoy them, and because it would be a lovely ending to an otherwise blah week of cooking. Here's a brief, and somewhat unexciting, state of food in my house:

*Made a prune cake (yep, a prune cake) recently that was just so-so. Fed most of it to the dog.

*Jason on the prune cake: "Oh, this is alright, but do you think you could make a regular cake sometime? Like double chocolate?"

*I'm trying to get in the mood for holiday baking, but can't seem to find the energy.

*Steamed salmon is our favorite go-to meal at present -- simple, healthful, and satisfying.

*Craving egg nog.

*Was horrified when Jason insinuated that if I were a character on "Desperate Housewives," I would be Bree Van Dekamp. I didn't find this funny. Not even a bit.

*Eating far too much pizza.

*Wondering what type of cake I'll make Carson for his birthday, but I think we'll put a candle in a healthful muffin instead. (He's only going to eat two bites anyway, before feeding the rest to the dog.)

*Was pleased with a recent vegetarian version of stuffed peppers I put together (made with "ground" tofu, instead of meat). I told Jason (ever the carnivore), mid-bite, that this was a meatless meal, and he pretended not to hear me. "Don't tell me," he said, covering his ears. "I'm imagining that it's meat." "Right," I said. "Grass fed beef."

*Carson recently learned how to spit food out of his mouth, and now he does it at every single meal. Spoon goes in, food comes out. I'm dreading the next stage on the horizon: food throwing.

Oh, is that the oven timer I hear? More soon.

Meyer lemons

2007-12-03T21:28:00.001-08:00

When I was pregnant last year, I overheard a conversation between two women about wedding cake -- lemon, with vanilla fondant to be exact. Suddenly, it was all I could think about. Cake. Cake. And more cake. It was the beginning of a monstrous craving, which lasted 7 months in fact. Then Carson came, and I didn't feel like cake anymore (and if I did, there just wasn't time to eat it).

Something like this happened today when I was talking with one of my editors (who also happens to be a culinary school graduate and fellow foodie). She told me that she'd visited a farm over the weekend and purchased some fresh Meyer lemons, right off the tree. "What are you planning to do with them?" I asked. "I'm thinking about making a lemon souffle," she replied. That's when it hit me: a pregnancy-grade craving (and I'm not even pregnant).

After we hung up, all I could think about was Meyer lemons -- their sweet scent, mellow flesh, smooth skins. I was borderline feverish. How could I get my hands on three pounds by this afternoon?

I did a bit of sleuthing, and came across a recipe for a Meyer lemon souffle that looked doable. Then, I packed the baby up for a trip to the market to stock up on ingredients (this boy is a trooper -- he's practically been raised in grocery stores and farmers' markets -- I'm betting that his first words will be "wild salmon," "organic eggplant," or "whole wheat flour").

Now I just need the energy to make the souffle. As you know, you never make them half-heatedly. They just won't turn out. They need love and affection, and lots of patience. And I'm much too tired tonight, so I'll just settle for a squeeze of lemon in my tea. It will have to tide me over until tomorrow.

Unleash your inner chef

2007-12-03T21:13:00.001-08:00

Ever dreamed of being a cookbook author? So Harper Collins and Chronicle Books aren't banging down your door. Why wait for a book deal when you can create your own beautifully designed hardcover cookbook with just a few clicks of a button? As long as your cool not seeing your byline on bookstore shelves, there is a way to publish your prize-winning recipes: For just $34.95, a company called Taste Book lets you design your custom cookbook's cover, choose a title, and upload your favorite recipes -- along with those from epicurious.com (the folks behind Gourmet and Bon Appetit). OK, so it's a little bit silly -- but you have to admit, it's not a bad Christmas gift idea! Imagine the look on your grandmother's face when she sees her sweet potato pie recipe in print.

Christmas trees, and grumpy mamas

2007-12-02T20:43:00.000-08:00

It was raining -- really heavy soggy rain-drops-that-soak-your-clothes-in-five-seconds raining -- this afternoon when we planned to pick up a Christmas tree. Unlike the old days, pre-Carson, when life had kind of a leisurely feel to it, today felt frantic. Naptime was approaching, so we drove a few miles up the road to a nearby tree lot -- not too far away, because when we're in the car too long, you-know-who loses it.

"You stay in the car with Carson," I told Jason, a little militantly, grabbing the umbrella. "I'll go get the tree." It felt weird to pick the tree solo, but it didn't make sense dragging the baby out in the wet, 39-degree weather either. So I ventured out on my own, trudging through the muddy ground like I was on some kind of high-speed scavenger hunt. (And if I sent Jason out, well -- we'd have a Charlie Brown situation on our hands.)

There was row after row of tall trees, fat trees, and sparse trees. But nothing caught my eye. Christmas tree shopping isn't like buying apples and oranges at the market. You sort of have to feel a oneness with them -- and I felt nothing. Finally, I flagged down an employee to help me, and a few minutes later we found it: a tall, stately looking Noble fir. "I'll take it," I said. "And I have a fussy baby with his daddy in the car, so I need to pay and go -- fast!"

We hurried to the cash register, where I was shocked to hear the price of my tree -- somewhere between ouch and oh dear. I set it back. Really, Christmas trees shouldn't rival airfare to Maui. The clerk sniffed and pointed to the area where the cheaper trees were housed, giving me an annoyed look as if to say "Clearly you have no taste in trees."

Thirty seconds later, I return with a slightly smaller, more reasonably priced Noble. I pay for it, they strap it on our car, and we head home. Five strands of broken lights later (along with an hour spent wrangling the tree into the stand, cleaning up fallen needles, and washing sap off our hands) I began to wonder, why do we do this tree thing again? I'm grumpy. I'm frustrated. I'm tired. I'm borderline Ebenezer Scrooge, in the flesh. Then, out of nowhere, I get my answer:

My new look!

2007-12-01T15:52:00.000-08:00

How cute is this business card? My friend Wendi is working on a brand new "identity" system for me. Wen is an uber-talented designer and fabulous photographer (and I should mention that she does darling family and kid photos for very reasonable rates -- something to keep in mind for the holidays if you're here in Seattle). Oh, and keep an eye on my Web site, which is undergoing a similar renovation and should be up soon. P.S. See the "plate" in the image above?

A chicer way to compost

2007-12-01T15:31:00.001-08:00

Here is Seattle, we can throw food scraps, coffee grounds, egg shells, etc. into our yard waste containers. A great idea, yes, but it also turns into a bit of an organizational mess in the kitchen. Where do you keep this messy stuff? I've tried a lot of different methods, including Bio Bags, and have been dissatisfied with all. I recently purchased this cute ceramic compost pot (you can find them on Amazon and Storables). The lid is fitted with a charcoal filter (to block out those icky smells), so that's a plus, and it looks great on my kitchen counter.

Time to lose the mummy tummy

2007-12-01T14:56:00.000-08:00

I love yoga, but I can't seem to find my way to class these days. It's a goal for 2008. While I've shed a lot of baby weight this year, I'm still horrified by my belly. Eager to kiss these final pounds BYE BYE -- yes, the ones that are still hanging around 11 months postpartum -- I plunked down $14.95 for a DVD that promises flatter abs in three easy segments: Prevention magazine's "Better Belly Yoga." (Coincidentally, Prevention is one of the remaining women's mags I haven't written for -- and it's a goal for 2008 -- such a terrific publication.) I tried the DVD this morning and really liked it. I felt leaner, lighter, and tighter after just 30 minutes. Wow! Now, if I can just stick with this until swimsuit season. Wish me luck!

Gals, now please share: How did you zap those final 5-10 pounds of baby weight?

The secret lives of nannies

2007-11-30T14:37:00.000-08:00

A friend and I were out lunching today with our kids (she with her 3 year old and infant, and me with my 11 month old -- it was a sight!), and we couldn't help but notice a chic woman, about our age, at a nearby table with a little boy. She was perfectly dressed. Her hair was done. And her shoes were, well, of the non-mama variety. But here's the thing that really got our attention: She seemed so vacant with this little boy, who might have been about 2 years old. She hardly looked at him as he sat in his high chair and ate his buttered noodles. He babbled on, singing and chattering to her, but she hardly looked at him -- instead preferring to stare off into the distance. Her mind was elsewhere, and she seemed annoyed by him, actually. And when it came time for his faced to be wiped, she did it robotically. Clearly, there was no love in the task.

When we left the restaurant, I asked my friend Katie if she noticed this. And she had. But Katie had connected the dots farther than I had. "Did you see her True Religion jeans?" she said, pointing out the fact that the woman also wasn't wearing a wedding ring and was in too good of shape to have had a baby in the past 24 months. "She's a nanny, not a mommy."

And she nailed it.

I couldn't help but wonder what this sweet little boy's mother would think if she had been a fly on the wall. Sure, the kid wasn't being neglected, or anything close to that. But isn't engaging and communicating with a child part of the job? I shuddered at the thought that some mother out there is going about her day with absolutely no idea that her son is being carted around Seattle by an emotionally unavailable child care provider. I snuggled Carson a little tighter at the thought of it.

P.S. How about this for an idea: You know those "How's my driving?" bumper stickers? Nannies should be required to wear stickers that read "How am I doing taking care of this child? Call 1-800-TELL-MOM." : )

Neurotic recycling practices

2007-11-28T22:05:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking about this subject ever since I mentioned it below -- had to write about it some more. Yep, I'm a neurotic recycler. You may be too if you have ever:

*Crammed a paper coffee cup in your purse, after drinking it, to bring home and put in the yard waste bin (rather than throwing it away)

*Fretted about the fact that the lid to your disposable coffee cup is not recyclable

*Kept other paper, trash, and recyclable items with you while out shopping because there was no recycle bin in sight

*Cringed when you saw someone throw a stack of paper in the trash can

*Gotten a little annoyed (alright angry!) at a house guest who kept throwing plastic bottles, beer bottles -- you name it -- in the trash can

*Dug through a trash can to reclaim recyclable items

*Re-used a piece of plastic Saran wrap too many times for it to be healthful

*Felt annoyed with recycling plants for not finding a way to recycle lids (what's up with that?!)

*Sent recyclables, like yogurt containers and glass bottles and jars, through a dishwasher before recycling

*Worried that your dog might be contributing to the planet's decline (after all, you have to use two plastic bags on walks)

*Felt pangs of guilt for your dependence upon non recyclable items like Ziploc bags

Clearly, I need help. What are your recycling hangups? Share, and I'll add to the list!

Green parenting

2007-11-28T21:46:00.000-08:00

Some moms in my area are starting a "Green Parenting" group, and I'm joining. (One local mom was inspired by "An Inconvenient Truth" and was motivated to do something.) I love the idea of finding ways to run a more earth-friendly household while teaching my kids (in my case, just one little guy) how to think green. In our group, there will be toy swaps, idea sharing, and -- hopefully -- lots of encouragement to make positive changes, even small ones, that are better for our Earth. And, as parents, isn't it our responsibility to leave a healthy planet for our kids and grandkids? Are you a mom in the Seattle area who would like to join us? If so, email me. I'll get you the info on our first meeting.

Speaking of green practices, I've been thinking a lot about the things I do and the products I buy these days. And even though I feel good about the "green" choices I make (reusable shopping bags, for instance, and recycling that borders upon the neurotic ... I need to devote a future post to neurotic recycling practices), there are still areas I'm struggling with. For example, how does one survive without Ziploc bags? I know, I know -- they're horribly landfill clogging. But they're so darn convenient! I need to go to a support group for Ziploc addicts. Because really, I can't imagine life without them -- especially with a baby in the home.

Another confession: I'm a paper towel fiend. I use way too many of them. And I feel bad about every single one. Now, in Seattle, these can go in the yard waste bin. But even so, sometimes (when I'm on a cleaning rampage) they find their way into the trash. Sigh. Maybe giving up paper towels and Ziploc bags should be one of my New Year's resolutions ...

Pausing to celebrate a really good day

2007-11-27T21:17:00.000-08:00

Hi friends. Like many moms, I sometimes focus too much on what's not going right -- the messy house, the teething baby, the husband who forgot to take out the trash, the writing deadline that's stressing me out. I admit, there are many days (too many) when I throw my head in my hands and think 'can life get any harder?'

Then there are days like today -- days that make me feel silly for being so glass-half-empty. Nothing extraordinary happened, really. I didn't get a call from my agent telling me that my novel (which I'm still tinkering with) is being fought over by two major publishers. The article I'm stressing about isn't done. The house is a bit messy. Yes -- these things haven't changed. But, somehow, life just felt in balance today. And I want to pause to be grateful for it.

First, Carson slept in -- till 7:30 a.m. -- and so did I. It felt luxurious sleeping past 5:45 a.m. (my typical wake time). Then, my usually clingy babe played quietly with his toys (with only an occasional "ra-ra" or "ga-ga" while I did a phone interview. I kept thinking, 'is this my child?' Surely, I thought, he'd start screaming at any moment, and I'd have to reschedule the call. Nope -- didn't happen.

And, the day just kept getting brighter. Carson took a monster nap (are you noticing the correlation here between a baby who sleeps well and a good day for mama?). I got a million things checked off my to-do list. We went to gym class, had a coffee date, giggled, grocery shopped, and cooked -- a healthy, yummy dinner (remind me to share my recipe for a fabulous new salad: roasted eggplant, cherry tomato, and garbanzo bean).

Yep, there will always be plenty of things to complain about, worry about, weep about -- but there are plenty of reasons to smile. And today was one of them. I hope your day was one too.

Baby food (that I like to eat)

2007-11-26T09:41:00.000-08:00

Let me share my latest obsession: Earth's Best "Very Vanilla Organic Letter of the Day Cookies" -- yep, the ones with Cookie Monster on the cover of the box. I bought these for Carson recently, and of course I had to give them a little taste test.

C'mon, share! What are your favorite baby and kid foods?

Time for a nice long nap

2007-11-23T20:04:00.000-08:00

I did it! I survived Thanksgiving. Granted, I'm tired -- really tired -- but what a joy to cook for the special people in my life. For any of you who put on a feast for a houseful of people, you know the feeling that comes over you when the last person has had their coffee and pumpkin pie and all the dishes have been washed. It's then that you feel the urge to slump over somewhere and wake up in 2008, or maybe 2009. Hibernation. That's the word. It's more than tryptophan that's kicking in, it's hostess exhaustion induced by standing in the kitchen from 8:30 a.m. until 4 p.m. -- running from one pot to the next, checking and tasting and stirring and doing what cooks do (man, do I have respect for professional chefs).

Here are some things I learned this year:

*Don't use the bottom of your oven as a "rack." Ever. I don't know when, but on a cooking show this year, someone said you can use the bottom of your oven as a rack when you've run out of space. Uh, NO! I tried this while roasting squash and the parchment paper nearly went up in flames. Luckily, we caught the smoke just in time and didn't burn the house down.

*You can never have too much butter. I thought I had plenty (as in three packages), but nearly ran out. Next year I'm going to buy gallons and gallons of the stuff.

*Enlist help: Don't think you can put on a feast for your entire family by yourself. It's just not possible. Really, it's not -- even if you're Martha. Enlist potato peelers, carrot choppers, dish washers and the like.

*If it's not working, ditch it. I scrapped the pomegranate glaze for my turkey because the bird was looking good as-is. Why ruin a good thing?

*Lemons: Don't stuff them in your turkey; they'll slow the cooking of the hindquarters and throw off your dinner.

*And, don't forget the doggie. They watch you cook the whole meal, like my golden Paisley did, and faithfully wait for a little scrap of turkey. Don't dissapoint them!

So yes, I'm thankful for lots of things this year -- thankful that the house didn't burn down, that the food was edible, that the guests enjoyed themselves, and that my family is happy, healthy and well fed!

Cheers everyone!

My Thanksgiving Menu

2007-11-19T14:28:00.000-08:00

Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, everything is wintry and warm and cozy, and I love it. My friend Natalie has a theory about this. As rainy and sludgy as it is here in Seattle during these fall and winter months, she says Seattleites sort of let out a big sigh of relief when the weather gets miserable. Sure, we complain about it -- the mud puddles, gray skies, endless drizzle -- but here's her theory: We secretly love it. Finally, we can forgo high fashion for comfy sweaters, cozy up to seasonal ale, and just take it slow, even blow off our social calendars for a few months. I think she's summed up half the people in this city, me included. I am happiest, I think, when the weather is stormy, rainy, and generally overcast. But remind me this in March, OK?

That brings me to Thanksgiving. How are you spending the pre-T-day week? If you're hosting, as I am, you're likely scurrying, cleaning, planning, shopping, and prepping. That describes my week, except I'm doing that with a few writing deadlines and a certain someone saying "ga-ga, ba-ba" in my ear.

I'll be preparing a meal for 12 this year, and I plan to do a very traditional dinner -- but with a few twists just for fun:

Roast Turkey With Pomegranate Glaze

Onion Gravy

Rosemary Sage Cornbread Dressing

Petite Green Beans With Shallots and Toasted Almonds

Black and Green Olives (olives are a staple, my husband tells me, in his family's Thanksgiving dinners)

Assorted Roasted Squash, With Herbed Brown Butter

Spicy Roasted Brussels Sprouts (with Kimchi!)

Buttermilk Mashed Potatoes

Gingered Carrots

Cranberry-Orange Sauce

Dinner Rolls

Green Salad

Pumpkin Pie

So, we have a bit of time before the big day, so please tell me what your star side dish is! I have a feeling this menu will be tweaked a bit before Thursday.

Ho, Ho, Ho

2007-11-18T21:53:00.000-08:00

I promise, my next post will be more substantive, more delicious, and more inspiring. But for now, I couldn't resist sharing this photo with you. We took Carson to my husband's (very early) office holiday party today, where we "introduced" him to Santa Claus. This was the result:

My 3:30 a.m. wake-up call

2007-11-15T11:54:00.000-08:00

My son woke up at an ungodly hour today. My friend Wendi calls this a "cock-a-doodle-do." And, yep, that's what I had this morning: my very own cock-a-doodle-do. When that happens, life is just yucky. In case you're having a really bad day, read this and it will make you feel better. Here's a brief recap of my (early morning):

*Woke up to Carson crying at 3:30 a.m. -- I lay in bed wishing, hoping, and praying that he'd go back to sleep. He didn't.
*3:34 a.m.: The screaming is getting intense and Jason urges me to go in and resettle him. I want to say "YOU GO RESETTLE HIM! I'VE BEEN UP WITH THIS BABY THREE TIMES ALREADY TONIGHT." But I don't.
*4:00 a.m.: After many minutes of rocking, singing, nursing and so on, I lay Carson back in his crib. He SCREAMS.
*4:20 a.m.: Jason pleads with me to do something. He has a big day at work. I ask him to put his earplugs in.
*4:30 a.m.: Carson's screams are getting more desperate. He's crying like he's being tortured or something. But I know he's not. He's just crying because he's dropped his teddy bear to the ground -- like usual -- and wants to get up and play. Nobody is sleeping, so I force myself to my feet -- and start the day.
*5:00 a.m.: Breakfast this early is just plain weird.
*5:30 a.m.: I doze off briefly on the couch while Carson plays with his toys. After a 60-second snooze I awake, frantically. Carson is eating a page of my Food and Wine magazine. I scoop the contents out of his mouth and feel like a horrible mother.
*6:00 a.m.: He's getting fussy, but he won't sleep. So, I turn on public television and we find that an episode of Telatubbies (sp?) is on. Carson is mesmerized. I am horrified (really, this show is borderline psychedelic -- but maybe it's just because I'm exhausted?).
*6:45 a.m.: Time for a nap. I lay Carson in his crib. He protests.
*7:00 a.m. Finally, he falls asleep.
*7:15 a.m.: Finally, I fall asleep.
*7:45 a.m.: He's up again -- ready to start the day for real this time. I grumble and go get him.

Some writerly advice

2007-11-14T20:34:00.000-08:00

Freelance writer and blogger Susan Johnston, who runs The Urban Muse, a great blog for aspiring writers, interviewed me recently about my favorite topic (other than motherhood and food, of course): writing! Click here to check out Susan's blog and read what I had to say. Thanks for thinking of me, Susan!

Speaking of writing, do you have a burning question about the freelance life that you need answered? Email me, or post a comment and I'll answer it here.

Ta-ta for now. The baby is teething (how else can I explain the random fussiness?). It's been a long day. No creativity left. Not even an ounce.

Saved, by cookies

2007-11-12T21:31:00.000-08:00

So, I got brave tonight and pulled out a cookie sheet. I know, I threw in the towel and gave up baking -- for good, I thought -- but somehow I found a spatula in my hand this evening and somehow I gave way to a chocolate-chip cookie craving.

I tried a new recipe, courtesy of my sister, Jessica (the best baker I know). I'd share it with you, but sorry -- the recipe is top secret. Jessica's not into her big sis divulging her best creations online. Besides, these cookies are valuable -- as in, Jess could make a killing on them. And when she writes a cookbook, I'm sure this recipe will take it's rightful place. Let me tell you why: First, they're light. I know what you're thinking, and let me assure you: They don't taste light. I don't know how she did it, but they're crunchy on the outside and gooey and soft on the inside. A perfect cookie combo -- and the perfect remedy to extricate me from my baking funk.

Ah, it's good to be in harmony with my oven again.

A prune revival

2007-11-12T09:12:00.000-08:00

Have you heard? Suddenly, prunes are hot. Whether you call them prunes, or dried plums (I think the latter sounds a little more appetizing, don't you?), the shriveled purple fruit is the latest culinary comeback kid. No longer happy to languish in your grandmother's medicine cabinet, prunes seem to be everywhere -- and in everything. I just saw a recipe in a food magazine for prune cake (mmm!) and then there is that new product, Sunsweet Ones, which I think sounds like a good idea -- especially in light of the recent news about their surprising health properties.

Speaking of plums, each year, our Italian plum tree produces too much fruit for us to use. So our golden retriever pitches in and eats two every morning for breakfast in the summer months. Not this year, though. I intend to beat her to the punch.

So, please share: What are you making with prunes these days? As soon as I can find the courage to bake again (you may remember, I threw in the towel recently), I'm going to give that prune cake a whirl.

Happy (blustery) Monday. It's a windy, rainy mess here in Seattle.

Retiring the Baby Bjorn

2007-11-07T19:04:00.000-08:00

All of you mothers and fathers out there, you're going to identify with this post: We reached a big milestone recently. I "retired" Carson's Baby Bjorn. For the last few months, my back began to ache the minute I snapped him into the carrier. But because I couldn't imagine life without the Bjorn, (how would I shop, carry in groceries, do anything without it?) I resisted and hobbled along, clutching my aching back while Carson was strapped in, happy as a clam. But then I heard about a new baby-wearing contraption: the Ergo. This newfangled carrier allows you to wear your baby, well your child, up to 40 lbs. It also has backpack capabilities. So, in short: I ordered it. Carson loves it -- and so does my back.

So, farewell Bjorn. You've been good to us. Here is a tribute to our time with you -- the things I won't ever forget:

*The walk we took around the neighborhood, with our colicky boy in "Bjorn training" screaming so loud the neighbors looked out their windows to see what all the clatter was about.

*The many mornings I strapped my fussy baby in the carrier and paced the floors until he fell asleep for his "nap." Then I would sneak to my computer and quietly answer emails.

*The exploring we did -- all over Seattle.

*The way Carson used to chew on the front panel of the Bjorn until it was soaked with slobber. Ick.

*The time someone stopped to tell me that my baby in the Bjorn was the "perfect fashion accessory." There was no response.

*The many cups of coffee sipped above a baby's head.

*The time the clasp didn't snap all the way, and Carson fell out of the Bjorn, landing in a safe (and soft) spot -- thank God. Yes, it was pure terror.

*The joy of going through life with a baby attached to me.

Here's to you, Bjorn. And, just for fun, here are a few of our favorite photos:

The Bjorn was the morning nap spot for a while.

Baby's first airplane ride to San Diego -- here, getting off the plane and posing with the pilot.

A big boy, enjoying his final days in the Bjorn.

Goodbye, Burt

2007-11-05T08:02:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago at the Whole Foods Market in Seattle, where I sometimes shop, there was a woman giving away samples of Tom's of Maine toothpaste. Someone asked, "Are the ingredients still the same now that you're owned by Colgate-Palmolive?" I have to admit, I was a little shocked. I've been buying Tom's products for years, because I think they're great. Plus, I like the fact that I'm supporting a grass roots company rather than a multi-national conglomerate. And, they're toothpaste is yummy. But when I start to imagine that it's being made in the same manufacturing plant as, well, dish detergent, it's a tad unsettling.

And then, I read in a newsletter this morning that Burt's Bees has taken the same path. Yes, adorable, all-natural, home-grown Burt's Bees. In case you haven't heard, they've just been snatched up for $950 million by Clorox -- yup, the company that hawks noxious toilet bowl cleaner.

I quit

2007-11-04T19:51:00.001-08:00

You know the old saying: You can either cook or you can bake, but you can't do both? It's true. Let me explain.

Being partial to cooking, it has always bugged the heck out of me that I have no baking confidence. Zilch. (Well, that's excluding my pies -- I do make a mean pie.) So over the past month, I start baking -- like mad. There were brownies. There were tarts. There were cookies, breads, cakes, and lots of muffins. I whipped and I folded and I blended. I measured, kneaded, whisked, and frosted. There were highs and lows -- some good, and some just "meh" -- but the majority of the things I pulled from my oven were pretty much, well, yuck.

And last night, my baking journey ended -- with a really terrible batch of Hawaiian rolls, which had the exact texture of, how do I put this lightly, rubber tires. (Still, there is one upside to bad dinner rolls: You know who your true friends are when they slather them in butter and eat them without a single complaint. Lisa and Fletcher, you guys are the best.)

So, please make me feel better. Tell me about your baking blunders, that is, if you have any.

Bye for now. Going to rid my kitchen of muffin tins and cake pans.

The thing about baking soda

2007-11-01T21:37:00.000-07:00

I have a love-hate relationship with Arm & Hammer. On one hand, baking soda is essential. Where would my cookies and cakes be without it? But I have a bone to pick with recipes that call for copious amounts of the stuff, rendering each bite of cake, muffin, cookie -- you name it -- tasting of aluminum.

The last two things I've made, pumpkin spice bread and chocolate chip cookies (yep, I finally made the Deceptively Delicious recipe for chocolate chip-chickpea cookies), both had this over-the-top metallic baking soda taste. Gross, I know.

So all of you baking experts out there: Can you cut back on the amount of baking soda in a recipe and be alright? Or maybe there's a baking soda brand that doesn't taste like, well, baking soda?

Advice? I think I'll email Dorie Greenspan.

Trick or treat

2007-11-01T09:51:00.000-07:00

Carson was a turtle for Halloween this year. He's only 10 months old, so he didn't know what was going on when Jason and I got him all dressed in costume -- complete with a tail and hat. We tried not to let him see us giggle. I'm convinced that dressing your kids up in goofy costumes is one of the bonuses of parenthood. It was priceless!

As the sun set, I put a bowl of candy by the door -- Kit Kats and Reeces Peanut Butter Cups. I have to admit, I felt a little guilty about this. I'm into health and wholesome eating, so part of me felt as though I should have stocked the bowl with fruit leather or granola bars. But, no. Not tonight. For one night of the year, let them eat candy.

Maybe someday Kit Kats will be sweetened with fruit juice, made with organic chocolate, and come standard with 5 grams of fiber. But for now, I'm going to just go with it.

And so we waited, and we waited. [Insert sound of crickets chirping.] There were no ghosts or goblins ringing our doorbell, no supermans or princesses either. And the bowl of candy just sat by the door, looking a little lonely and sad. What happened to Halloween, we wondered? It certainly isn't the event I remember as a child.

Then, just when we were about to turn the lights off and call it a night, there was a knock at the door -- at 8:55! Three pre-teen girls, dressed in costumes I didn't recognize (Madonna, maybe? Brittney Spears?) were on our front stoop, candy bags in hand. And that was it for Halloween.

After we closed the curtains and turned down the lights, I began to wonder if Halloween is morphing into something else. Private parties? Organized shopping-center candy giveaways?

Maybe door-to-door trick-or-treating has gone the way of the buffalo. Maybe. But part of me will always love the personal nature of trick-or-treating -- kids braving the cold to greet their neighbors. And come October 31, I'll be keeping a bowl of candy by the door -- even if it's just for me.

Therapy, for writers

2007-10-30T21:20:00.000-07:00

Today I met with my writer's group. And let me tell you, I just love these folks. It's a small group. There are just four of us, and we come from all different walks of life. One is a former NYC magazine staffer who is accomplished, vivacious, incredibly creative, and pregnant. One is a seasoned writer who is making exciting and brave new life changes -- breaking into the travel writing market while splitting her time between Seattle and India. Another is a science and technology writer (and seriously, a genius) who we'll say "we-knew-him-when" about someday. And then there's me.

But as different as we are, there are common threads, too. We are all trying to make a decent living doing what we love. We all have big goals and dreams. We are all attempting to make sense of the sometimes-chaotic freelance life. And we are all supportive of one another.

Today's meeting was at my house. We shared stories and ate scones while my son, Carson, played with his toys on the floor (he's feeling better, hooray!). These meetings are like therapy. And if you're a writer without a writer's group, I encourage you to find one. Even if you meet irregularly, like we do, it's worth it. For instance, in a few hours, here's what I came away with:

*A new confidence to plow through my book revisions.
*An idea for a pretty fun nonfiction food book. Yeah, I'm keeping it under wraps for now, sorry!
*A great set of goals for the next six months.
*At least one story idea.
*And, of course, some great media gossip.

P.S. I have an embarrassing confession: I walked around all day thinking today was Halloween. Really. I said "Happy Halloween" to at least a dozen people. I even got the candy ready for the trick-or-treators. But, this afternoon, my sister was kind enough to remind me that Halloween is, um, tomorrow. Then she wished me a Merry Christmas.

P.S. Happy Halloween

2007-10-29T15:12:00.001-07:00

A REALLY full plate

2007-10-29T15:01:00.000-07:00

I don't want this blog to read like a diary, or worse, a list of what fills my days ("today I went to the market, then I came home, then I made roast beef, bla, bla, bla" -- ack!), but because my baby is sick, and I have deadlines, and I'm tired (really, really tired -- Carson was up almost every hour last night), I'd like to give you the condensed version today. Here's what's on my plate:

*A sick baby boy.
*Three articles to finish, all due this week.
*A headache.
*Pumpkins to carve.
*Dinner to make, and no inspiration whatsoever.
*Baby clothes to wash.
*A book to revise.
*An editor to call back.
*A dog that really needs a walk.
*Interviews to schedule -- for next week's deadlines.
*Sleep to catch up on.
*Did I mention the headache?

What's on your plate? Let's commiserate together.

A meal to savor

2007-10-25T09:51:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had a really, really memorable meal -- so good that you woke up the next day and wished you could rewind time for a minute, just to have another bite of the soup, or the fish, or chocolate ganache cake? That's the kind of meal I had last night, and I want to tell you about it.

Brian McCracken, chef and owner of Flyte (private dining in your living room -- or a vineyard, cranberry bog, or barn -- basically whatever you imagine, Brian and his team can accomodate) came by last night to cook for me, my husband, and a few friends. I met Brian via an article I wrote for The Seattle Post Intelligencer a few months ago. In case you're wondering, no, I don't have professional chefs cooking in my kitchen often (or frankly, ever), and yes, I was very excited (and, um, a little nervous -- what would he think of my sub-par stove and messy refridgerator, or the baby's high chair lurking in the dining room?).

Brian -- friendly, approachable, and kind -- arrived, with food, dinner plates, pans -- you name it -- in tow. After we put the baby to bed, Jason and I, and our guests, pulled up chairs and gathered around the kitchen to watch a chef at work, enjoying the first course in the kitchen: Braised Short Rib With Cinnamon Dijon.

Warm and satisfying, we gobbled it down and then made our way to the dining room for the next round: Butternut Squash Soup With Bleu Cheese Monte Cristo. It was a blockbuster combo -- a creamy, autumnal (I love using that word) soup with the crisp, buttery monte cristo. Borderline culinary brilliance.

Next came the Wild Mushroom Agnolotti, sort of like grown-up ravioli in a bed of mushrooms and paired with these beautiful little gelees, which were made of rosemary tea. It was aromatherapy, on a plate.

Before the next course, we sipped a grape soda (yes, grape soda!) that Brian made of fresh pressed grapes and soda water. The rims of each glass were lined with lemon sea salt. It was a perfect rest before the Seared Halibut arrived, which was crusted with celery seed and served with celery puree, braised celery, and celery leaves (are they called leaves?).

Hold on, there's more. The next creation was a nod to Brian's family's cranberry farm in Westport: Pan Roasted Duck With Nutmeg-Spiced Orzo and Smoked Cranberry Cobbler. And trust me, it was as good as it sounds.

And just when we thought things couldn't get any better, sweeter, brighter, and more delicious -- Brian delivered the finale: Black Pepper Chocolate Ganache With Smoked Sea Salt, Caramel and Chocolate Porter. My friend Sally summed it up best: "This is a dessert you could woo a girl with," she said to Brian. And she was right. He wooed us all -- down to the last bite.

A conversation with Allison Winn Scotch

2007-10-23T19:36:00.000-07:00

In any given month, Allison Winn Scotch is one of those writers who has a byline in a half-dozen magazines. (Don't believe me? Pick up a magazine and scan. You're likely to find her!). That would be a mere feat in itself, but then she also is the author of two books (one was published recently (see below); the other will be out next year) and is the mother of two small children. All this, and she finds time to keep a blog, Ask Allison, about the publishing world, which is read by thousands of people, both veteran writers and newcomers alike. Oh, and to top things off, she's really nice.

Here is what Allison has to say about time management, procrastination, what it really feels like to publish a book, and some darn good advice about writing:

SJ: You recently had your first book published, The Department of Lost and Found (William Morrow, 2007). What did it feel like to have your "baby" on bookstore shelves, on Amazon.com, and in the hands of readers across the nation?

AWS: I felt, er, ill. Honestly, you don’t really think about how you’ll feel once the book is out there, being judged by (hopefully) thousands of readers, each of whom is forming an opinion not just about the book, but probably about you and your skills as well. I’ve spoken to other writer friends who agree that the actual publication is about as stressful as anything in the process, but the anxiety caught me off-guard. I expected to feel utter euphoria, and sure, there was that too, but primarily, I felt stressed.

SJ: You write for a zillion magazines, are the mother of two, and have just finished your second book. It's the question on everyone's minds: How in the world do you squeeze it all in? Extra shots of espresso? Three assistants? Please share your secrets for successful time management with us!

AWS: Ha! I only wish I had three assistants. Unless you count my dog, Pedro, who spends the day lounging at my feet, I sadly, however, have none. Well, actually, that’s not quite true. I do have a wonderful nanny, without whom, I wouldn’t be able to work. I’ve mentioned this on my blog before, but I do treat my job like any other job, and no one would expect a lawyer or executive to show up to work with her two kids, so I don’t show up to work with mine. True, I do have the fabulous luxury of spending more time with mine than someone who goes into the office, but still, when it’s work time, my nanny takes over. Also, I’ve gotten really good with time-management. I think that any working mom has to. I’ve been writing magazine articles for long enough now that I really know how long each one will take me, and I don’t accept assignments when I’m already feeling harried. I used to do that, and it’s not worth it for me. My mental health suffers, and then everything else suffers: how I interact with my kids, how I treat my husband, how, really, I enjoy my life. So I do think that learning to say no, as well as creating real expectations of how long assignments and other work will take you, are critical. Finally, I also always try to carve out some down time for myself. Which, on paper, might sound counterproductive, but for me, it keeps me ticking. I like to try to get to the gym most days of the week, for example, because that one hour allows me to tune out and rejuvenate. I’m much more likely to return to my computer with renewed gusto if I’ve taken a break and done something that I enjoy.

SJ: Can you give us a quick, sneak preview of your second book? And, when can we read it?

AWS: Sure! Thanks for asking! Time of My Life should hit stores next fall. It’s the story of a 35-year old woman who, from an outside view, has a pitch-perfect life -- a cherubic toddler, a successful husband, a gorgeous house in the suburbs. But despite all of this, she’s haunted by lingering “what ifs:” what if she hadn’t broken up with her old boyfriend, what if she hadn’t abandoned her career for motherhood, etc. And via a freak massage, she wakes up seven years in her past and has the opportunity to do it all over, and see if her new path will grant her greater happiness and lay to rest all of those lingering “what ifs.” I wrote it because I think that so many of us occasionally question the road that we’ve taken, and it’s something that’s so rarely discussed, but in my mind, is completely normal. There’s no shame in looking at our past and trying to learn from it, and using it to correct mistakes that maybe we’re still presently making…and hopefully, readers will find something in the book that resonates for them too.

SJ: When approaching the monumental task of writing a novel, how would you characterize your writing process? Do you sit down and pound out 10 pages a day, then go back and revise? Or, do you take it slower, perfecting each sentence as you go?

AWS: I tend to write quickly and furiously – sort of like a snowball tumbling down the hill, accelerating as it goes. I’ve found that if the writing is painstaking, then I’m probably not doing something right: not fully understanding my characters or not providing them with enough conflict. Which isn’t to say that it’s easy: it’s not. I’ll do just about anything not to start writing. I mean, I can seriously procrastinate my fiction like you wouldn’t believe. So, to ensure that I actually get it done, I set goals for myself – usually a minimum word count for the day, say, 1,500 words, and even though I hate opening up the document and writing those first few sentences, once I get going, it comes pretty easily. And again, as I said, if it doesn’t, that usually means I have to reassess and find out where I’m going wrong.

SJ: In your career, what has been one of the most important bits of advice, on writing, that you have received/read/heard?

AWS: I think that people tend to think of editors and agents as demi-gods, and one of the most important things I’ve learned and been told – through editors themselves – is that there’s no need for reverence. Which isn’t to say that they shouldn’t be treated respectfully…of course they should!! But elevating them on this pedestal does everyone a disservice: it makes you more timid to approach them; it makes you less likely to follow up to a pitch; it makes you less likely to walk away if a relationship isn’t working out; it makes you less likely to enjoy the time you spend working together…well, you get my point. One of the things that I’ve consistently heard from my editors in the past is how so many of them enjoy working with me, and I truly believe that this is because I treat them sort-of like friends. I don’t mean to imply that they’re your buddies: they’re not. But that doesn’t mean that you can’t know about their lives and have some fun banter and enjoy each other. I do and they do, and I really do believe that this is a big reason for my success: I meet my deadlines and write well, but I’m also easy-going (never underestimate the power of being an easy-going writer – I hear that from editors all the time too) and like the company of my editors.

SJ: For me, emailing friends, random Googling, online shopping (and OK I'll admit it, PerezHilton) are big contributors to procrastination when I sit down to write. What are yours?

AWS: Yes, I’m an online shopping whore too – even if I’m not buying, I’ll surf. And I am a total glutton for online gossip. I should go to a Gossip Anonymous group, I swear. DListed makes me laugh like no one’s business, and Television Without Pity’s forums could eat up my entire day. My husband makes fun of me, but in all seriousness, these sites are just a way for my brain to tune out a bit when I need a break. Oh, and yeah, I have a Google problem too. If I’ve ever even passed you on the street, I’ve probably Googled you. For no reason at all. It just kills time in my day when I could be writing!

Deceptive or just delicious? You decide.

2007-10-23T09:56:00.001-07:00

Another day of Seinfeld mania. I just ran across this article about Jessica Seinfeld's book, which I've written a bit about here, and I wonder what you all think. Is it mere coincidence that a similar book was published a few months before hers? Or does this scream COPY CAT?

I have to say, I don't think there's a conspiracy going on here. Ask any journalist, author, editor, and they'll tell you this: Good ideas seem to hit the media world in twos and threes and fours. A lot of new writers (and I'm speaking of magazines here, but I think it translates into the book world, too) fear that their ideas will be "stolen." But I've learned that it's silly and useless to worry that your pitches are being snatched. It just doesn't happen. For instance, I've pitched stories to editors, had them pass, then read similar stories printed in their mags months later. Were my ideas stolen? I don't think so. What probably happened is that another writer either beat me to the punch or had a better pitch, source, whatever, or a story was already in the works.

Back to Seinfeld. The book is still on back order. I think the only reasons I'm still eager to get a copy is a.) I have a soon-to-be-veggie-hating toddler, and b.) I'm dying to make those garbanzo bean chocolate chip cookies. I don't know why, but they sound divine. Anyone want to sneak the recipe over to me? I know, I know. Shame on me!

UPDATE: I bought the book, and I love it. Even if you don't have a toddler in the house, the book is packed with fun ideas for mixing extra veggies into your foods. Sure, not really high brow cuisine, but who cares. These recipes are really fun -- and healthful! And, the Aloha Chicken Kebab recipe was beyond good (the chicken is battered in pineapple and sweet potato puree and then breaded before taking a dip in the frying pan. Really tasty!).

P.S. Hello new readers!

Autumn days

2007-10-22T13:09:00.000-07:00

It's been a delicious past few days. My parents made a very memorable autumn dinner for us in their new home in Poulsbo, which we devoured on Saturday night (the meal, not the house). First we took a walk along this little country road to a farmstand (I know, it sounds just like Currier and Ives!) where we purchased some pumpkins, a few of them are pictured above, along with some fresh salsa and these amazing old-fashioned canned "dilly beans" (see photo below).

Now on to my mom's dinner. It was a feast! There was homemade applesauce (which had this really yummy and fragrant (almost rosewater-like) smell and taste), pumpkin soup, roasted acorn squash with cranberry relish, salad greens, steak kebabs with grilled vegetables, mashed potatoes, and Bourbon-glazed salmon. And, for dessert: pumpkin pie.

Speaking of squash, I told my mom that I can't remember an autumn season that I have craved squash this much. There must be a nutrient in squash that I'm lacking, because I can't get enough. Poor Jason. He's not so enamored with squash, but it seems to be on the dinner menu at our house quite a bit these days. Last night I was experimenting with butternut squash, garlic, and kale. See below.

Carson, of course, had a grand time crawling all over his grandparents' new house and playing with new toys. Then he slept all the way home, which was a dream, given that he a had a meltdown recently in the car that was just awful -- miserable, actually. In fact, Jason and I have started calling it "the historic fit" -- as in, it-will-go-down-in-history-as-the-wildest-and-most infamous-of-all-fits fit.

Speaking of the devil. There he is. Up early from his nap.

Chocolate and Spinach

2007-10-18T21:59:00.000-07:00

I felt a little giddy as I assembled the ingredients for Jessica Seinfeld's brownies tonight. After all, Oprah nearly did a backflip after tasting one and, well, then their was Jerry's "death row" description. I was eager to see for myself. Could brownies made with spinach actually be good?

Really, it seemed insane to add a half a cup of green sludge (pureed spinach) into the chocolaty mixture, and I cringed as I whisked. I remembered the book's title "Deceptively Delicious," and decided I'd be a little deceptive myself and not tell my husband what he was really eating, until after his first bite. After all, I don't have a 3-year-old to fool. Why not have a little fun with Jason?

The batter came together well (though I was struck by how little butter the recipe called for), and I spread it into the pan. While baking, there was a sweet, chocolaty smell in the kitchen, along with something else. Cooked broccoli? Peas? Asparagus? I began to worry.

Thirty minutes later, after the kitchen timer beeped, I ran to the oven -- so excited to assess my experiment that I forgot the potholder and burned my finger. I consoled myself with a warm slice of brownie.

Light and cakey, with a faint vegetable aftertaste (a little like, well, spinach salad), it wasn't the taste sensation I had hoped for. It was mediocre, at best. I cut a square for Jason. "Here," I said. "Try this. It's a new recipe."

He took a bite, hardly looking up from the TV ("The Office" was on, can you blame him?). "Low fat, huh?" he said.

I nodded. "And, they're made with, um, spinach."

He didn't protest or balk or set down his plate. In fact, he helped himself to another.

Hmm, I thought. Maybe Jessica Seinfeld is on to something? I can hardly wait until my son's first birthday. I'll make the recipe for chocolate cake -- with beets, of course.

A conversation with Molly Wizenberg

2007-10-17T13:53:00.000-07:00

I recently had the chance to speak with Molly Wizenberg (pictured to the left; photo courtesy of Carla Leonardi), a Seattle-based food writer who has been compared to such greats as M.F.K. Fisher. She's the voice behind the pioneering food blog "Orangette," which has thousands of fans, me included. Molly is busy at work on her first book (to be published by Simon and Schuster next year), a collection of essays and sure-to-be mouthwatering recipes. She was kind enough to pause and answer a few questions:

SJ: You've been blogging for several years. Over which time, many blogs have come and gone. What is your advice to fledgling bloggers about developing a successful, lasting, well-read blog?

MW: First I will say this, because it really rings true for me: more than anything, write what is interesting to you. If you're bored with what you're writing, other people will be bored reading it. Second, reach out to other bloggers. That's crucial -- not only to your blog's success and popularity, but also to your longevity as a blogger. Feeling a part of a community is so important. I've met countless amazing, inspiring people through this ole blogosphere of ours. I would be nowhere without them. Third, keep your eyes open. If you ride the subway or the bus, or if you walk a lot each day, look around. See what's there. See what inspires you. Notice things that are strange to you, or patterns you had overlooked before, or eavesdrop on other people's conversations. (I LOVE eavesdropping. My apologies to anyone who rides the bus with me, or who sits at a table near mine in a restaurant.) All of these things are fodder for good writing and good blogging. Take your camera with you, if you want. It'll help you to notice things. I find that my camera really helps me to open my eyes and see what's around me. And for us food bloggers, I would really urge you to try taking pictures of things other than your food. I love taking photographs of food, but I learn much more from the photographs I take on the fly at other times. It takes a lot of inspiration to continually "produce" on your blog - go out there and find it!

SJ: I had a dinner disaster tonight. The meal sounded good, in theory, but it didn't translate to the plate. I'm too embarrassed to give details (it was really quite bad). While I'm sure yours are few and far between, please make the rest of us feel better about our kitchen bloopers and tell us about one of yours.

MW: Ha! That's a fun one. My friend Sam was just reminding me the other night of a savory clafouti I made for him and Brandon last spring, shortly after I came back from a trip to France with my mom. I'd clipped the recipe during our trip, from one of those little free newspapers they give out in subway stations. It was a basic milk-and-egg custard of sorts enriched with gruyere cheese, and then you stirred in cherry tomatoes, poured it into a pan, and baked it. Well, it was NASTY. I'm not sure if it lost something in translation or what, but it was N-A-S-T-Y. It was pale and rubbery and dense, and it tasted like a very mild, flavorless macaroni and cheese, but nastier. Did I mention that it was nasty? I'll bet you could have taken a wedge out into the driveway and played basketball with it -- it was that rubbery. And the cherry tomatoes hadn't cooked an ounce. They were still raw. Sam bucked up and ate two slices, but Brandon and I could barely make it through one each. It was torture. Sam still likes to joke about it, calling it my famous mac 'n cheese.

SJ: We have to know: What do you eat at the airport? And I don't mean the Sea-Tac airport where we are lucky enough to have a fairly decent selection of options (Kathy Casey's terrific eatery comes to mind), but rather in the middle of the country, say Dallas-Ft. Worth (where I always seem to end up during a layover). When you have to choose between Chilie's, TGI Fridays, and Burger King, do you starve, hold out for airplane peanuts, or settle for a Whopper Jr.?

MW: I have to say, I'm definitely the type to hold out for the airplane peanuts! Or soft-serve ice cream or frozen yogurt. (They've got lots of that at DFW; I know from my layovers on the way home, to Oklahoma.) I don't like going hungry, but I'm also pretty picky. I'm a real stickler about packing food for flights. The only time in recent memory that I ate airport food -- aside from the aforementioned peanuts or frozen yogurt -- was last spring, at Chicago O'Hare, when I ate a slice of pizza. I was desperate, and I'd missed my flight. I love pizza. Even nasty, greasy, airport pizza. But really, it need not take a lot of time or fuss to make food to take on a flight. It need not be a luxury! I just make an extra-large batch of spaghetti the night before, or I hard-boil some eggs and take a hunk of bread. Also, whenever I make pancakes, I throw any leftovers in the freezer. Thawed on the counter the night before, they make a great travel breakfast.

SJ: In your opinion, what are three things every person should know how to cook well?

MW: Well, these aren't all necessarily "cooking," per se, but: homemade vinaigrette, chocolate chip cookies from scratch, a basic vegetable soup -- I could live on those three things -- assuming, of course, there was something green to put the vinaigrette on.

SJ: Can you tell us a little about the book you're working on? And, when can we buy it?

MW: My book grows out of the format of my blog. It's a collection of recipes and the stories that grow out of them. At the moment, I'm working on about 65 recipes (and, by extension, 65 essays), so the final book should hopefully have about that many, give or take a few. The essays are very similar in tone and style to what you see on my blog -- sometimes thoughtful, sometimes irreverent, and always -- I hope! -- delicious. I'm really loving the process thus far. Writing always sort of wakes me up. When I write, I remember all sorts of things that I thought I'd forgotten, and I discover so much that I hadn't seen before. That's really exciting, you know? I hope my readers will enjoy reading this book as much as I've enjoyed writing it! My manuscript is due December 15 [gulp!], and it'll be published by Simon & Schuster next fall, the fall of 2008.

SJ: My prediction: Your book is going to be a huge success. And when Oprah contacts you to be a guest, and cook for her -- on the air -- what will you make for her (and her millions of viewers)?

MW: Oh, eeek! I'd have to build up some serious guts for that! I think I'd make either a shaved fennel salad with lemon, olive oil, and Parmesan, or my "winning-hearts-and-minds" cake, an almost-flourless cake with loads of butter, chocolate, and eggs. Both are an absolute cinch -- confidence boosters for anyone, even the worst cook -- and are completely delicious.

Perfecting life

2007-10-17T13:28:00.000-07:00

I really shouldn't complain. Things are going well. The maple tree in my yard is turning gorgeous colors. The market is brimming with squash, of nearly all shades of the rainbow. My son is healthy and way less fussy than he used to be. My husband is wonderful, as usual. And the book is coming together. But, really, life can always be improved upon. So I got to thinking, and here's what I came up with. Of course, in addition to world peace, a solution to poverty, and finding a cure for AIDS, cancer, and all childhood disease, it would be a perfect world if:

*Le Creuset products would all cost less than $9.99 a piece.
*Babies came programmed with the ability to change their own diapers, sleep through the night, and play contentedly.
*Articles and books would write themselves and be brilliant on the first draft.
*The soundtrack playing everywhere would be good jazz.
*People (and babies too) would all start the day at 9 a.m., because that's a more reasonable hour than 6 a.m.
*I had a butler.

Alright, I'll stop there. What would your perfect world look like?

How about some spinach with those brownies?

2007-10-16T14:15:00.001-07:00

Hi all. So, I have Seinfeld fever this week. And who doesn't? Jessica and Jerry Seinfeld are EVERYWHERE. There's Jessica's new book, Deceptively Delicious, which I have to admit, I'm kind of obsessed with right now. Her recipe for Chickpea Chocolate Chip Cookies is already legendary and the book has only been in print for a week (may all of your books be an ounce as successful!). And then there's Jerry's new flick, Bee Movie. Talk about a power couple.

The book is on back order, so I haven't gotten a copy. Have any of you checked it out yet? What do you think?

If you're salivating for brownies made with spinach puree (I know, I was skeptical too, but apparently Jerry calls these "Death Row Brownies" -- as in, the kind of brownies you'd want to eat at your last meal. I guess they're that good) you can find the recipe here.

Cranberries

2007-10-15T19:48:00.000-07:00

What's your secret fantasy career?

Mine would have something to do with flour and rolling pins, I think. I'd open a bakery, like two in New York City that I wish were here in Seattle: Billy's Bakery and Babycakes. Not that I'm much of a baker, however. I tend to approach my oven like a kid with a science experiment (Exhibit A: the pie crust I once made with self-rising flour; Exhibit B: the cupcakes that erupted while in the oven). But a girl can dream, right? And, sometimes my baking experiments turn out, well, kind of good. Take my cranberry muffins today, for example. I love cranberries this time of year -- fresh cranberries -- and after picking up a bag at the market I ignored my deadlines and got to work. Halfway through the dry ingredients (and a bit of fussing from Carson), I realized there was no sour cream in my refrigerator, so I substituted yogurt. It was a happy accident.

Cranberry Yogurt Muffins*

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
1/2 stick of butter, melted
1/2 cup plain yogurt (full fat, low fat, whatever)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup whole fresh cranberries
1/3 cup applesauce

Heat oven to 375 degrees. Line muffin pan with baking cups/liners (whatever you call them!). Mix dry ingredients in a large bowl. Mix eggs, butter, yogurt and vanilla in another bowl. Add egg mixture to dry mixture, and fold together, just until blended. Spoon in muffin cups and bake. Check after 20 minutes (should be done around then).

*It occured to me after I finished making these muffins that they'd be lovely with sliced almonds mixed in the batter or sprinkled on top.

It's not easy being green

2007-10-15T15:04:00.000-07:00

Meet froggie.

It's funny how you buy your child all kinds of exciting toys -- toys for brain development, toys to engage their imagination, toys to enhance motor skills -- and yet they choose the silliest and simplest play things as their favorites. Take my son, Carson, for instance. This little 2 inch frog, which is really a bath toy that my mom bought my sister's daughter last year and was left at our house by mistake, has turned into Carson's most precious possession. Along with his blue teddy bear, he carries this miniature toad in his right hand, everywhere. We can say "where's froggie" and he'll search the room until he finds him.

How about you? What are/were your child's first favorite toys?

Chefs for Humanity

2007-10-14T10:46:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone! It's been a busy weekend. I threw a baby shower for my dear friend Sally on Saturday. Lots of fun. On Friday, I interviewed the famed Food Network chef and first female Iron Chef Cat Cora about her work with Chefs for Humanity, a fabulous nonprofit organization that you must read about, if you haven't already. Cat is a kind and talented chef with a deep conviction about sharing her gifts with the world's poor and needy. I was quite impressed. Her latest book, Cooking From the Hip (Houghton Mifflin, 2007), is fabulous as well--great recipes, and fun personal stories and tips throughout. Check it out!

Comfort Food

2007-10-11T19:50:00.000-07:00

My day? In short: The baby was fussy (teething?), the book needs more work, and my house just keeps getting messier. Comfort food was in order. But what?

Jason and I recently had dinner at Pair, one of favorite restaurants in the area (just a mile or so from our house), and I had a plate of lovely little Kabocha squash dumplings. I'm obsessed with squash right now, so when I saw a display of Kabochas (it's a Japanese squash with a bright green exterior and sweet and luscious flesh) at the grocery store today, I threw several in my cart -- with absolutely no idea what I was going to do with them. Then, inspiration struck:

Orecchiette with Kabocha Squash, Kale and Cream

3 large cloves of garlic, minced
4 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium to large Kabocha squash
1 bunch of kale, or a little less, chopped
1 cup chicken stock
1 package of orecchiette
2/3 cup cream (you could use more or less, though; just eyeball it)
Salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Slice the squash in half, remove seeds and the stringy matter. Place cut-side up on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Drizzle a little olive oil on each, and place in the oven. Test with a knife in about 20-30 minutes. When the squash is soft and begins to pull away from the skin, it's done. You'll need to let it cool a bit before removing the skin and dicing into bite-size pieces. Bring pasta to a boil and cook until al dente. Meanwhile, in a large saute pan, drizzle in a little olive oil and saute the garlic a bit over medium heat, just until it begins to release its fragrance. Next, add in the diced squash, the kale, and chicken stock. Let mixture simmer just a bit before transferring the cooked pasta to the pan. Reduce heat to low and add cream. Let simmer for a few minutes, add salt and pepper (to taste). Then, plate and top with a generous helping of Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese. We sprinkled a bit of red pepper flakes on ours, too, because well, we put red pepper flakes on everything.