rue's dictionary | volume 1

AH-DA

definition:

hat

usage:

When anyone wears a hat, point to it and say “ah-dah!"

suspected etymology: 

When Rue was about six months old, I discovered that I could make her laugh by putting something on my head, then pretending to sneeze so it fell off. Soon, she started trying it, too—except that she couldn’t say “ah-choo,” only “ah-da.” Now, anything that goes on a head is an “ah-da."

vaguely related:

1. Hats are a popular topic in our household—not only does Rue delight in talking about them, but Ike is actually terrified of them, and has been since he was a puppy. If we want him to leave us alone, asking "do you want a hat?" usually does the trick.

2. In preparation for her first bike ride, I've been following Rue around with a helmet for the past week telling her it's her "special hat" and clapping every time it touches her head. 

lately | early June 2016

LAUGHING, still, at this photo from a few weeks ago. You can't see it, but Rue is screaming at the creepy hand in front of her. I don't actually blame her. (That photo was taken at the fabulous Art-A-Whirl, where artists in Northeast Minneapolis open their studios to the public/dream up insane homages to fallen musical heroes.) 

READING a real, live book - with paper and everything. I'm all about the e-reader for all kinds of reasons, but sometimes I just want to turn the pages of a physical book. The book is It's Okay to Laugh (Crying is Cool, too) by current local hero/celebrity Nora McInerney Purmort. I laughed out loud for the first time on page six and have been ever since. 

WATCHING Fixer Upper and Veep, both of which are predictable in all the best ways. I laugh every time Buster offers to make Selina a cup of tea, and every time Jo announces she'll be putting an island in a kitchen.

WAKING up a little earlier every morning with the help of my army of alarm clock apps. Have you seen Ruggie? I need it, I think. 

CHASING a toddler who would prefer not to sit down for too long, thanks.

LISTENING to Beyonce, riding the high from her concert a few weeks ago. 

BUYING flare jeans from American Eagle and feeling like it’s 2000.  

FEELING like an elderly person on Snapchat, which I am treating like my own personal lip sync battle. Is that frowned upon? (username: werejustdandy)

DRAWING with my new art supplies in an old book about racquetball. Does that need an explanation? Probably. I saw the artist Lisa Congdon speak at Creative Mornings Minneapolis and immediately started following her on every social channel and bought all of the art supplies she recommended. One of the things she does is practice doodling in an old book so she does’t waste valuable sketchbook paper. Hence.

WAGGING my finger at Rue, apparently, because now every time I scold her she wags her finger at me.

hello again

When people ask me why I stopped blogging, I’m always surprised for a second. “But I am still blogging,” I think.

This is because anytime anything happens to me—a conversation, an observation, a life-changing event—I think to myself, I can’t wait to write about this. Often I actually start writing in my head.

In my mental internet, I blog three days a week with a hefty list of links on Sundays. I went viral a few times. I got picked up by the Huffington Post. How dare you ask me why I stopped blogging? 

But when I have the opportunity to sit in front of a blank screen or an open notebook for a luxurious, blog-writing amount of time, nothing comes out.

One day I hope to figure it out. But as I'm writing this, I’ve got an entire afternoon, a hipster coffeeshop (Which is playing, naturally, a surfer punk version of hava nagila), and no one to take care of.  

A day like this happens about four times a year: I'm off work, for a holiday I don't necessarily celebrate, but D still has daycare. I'm free, and I only let myself feel guilty about it for three minutes. This is the hardest thing about parenting, I think: succumbing to the fact that I might have five days to myself, tops, for an entire year. 

I guess it's worth it, though.

book talk: recent favorites

I've read some fantastic books recently, but there's one I keep coming back to.

The protagonist, a mother, is concerned that her child isn't home for dinner. She tries to remain calm, and before panicking, searches various places around her home. Eventually, she finds her baby (he was in a basket!) and along the way learns a few things about herself...like that there's a hippo in her piano.

I've read Where's Spot more times than I can count.

But unexpectedly, between board books with talking animals,  I've been able to continue reading grown-up people books. When D was first born, I read when I needed to distract myself from any number of aches and pains, or when I needed to stay awake. I read when I had been feeding her for 75% of the day and just couldn't stare at her teeny lips and count her teeny toes any longer. And when I went back to work, I read while pumping to forget the fact that I was pumping because pumping is kind of the worst. 

Here's what I loved the most:

Station Eleven

I read this last January and knew immediately that it would be hard to top. I'm so intrigued by post-apocalyptic stories—especially when the cause is a public health outbreak—but I especially enjoy reading about what happens while the world is crumbling down. This book switches between before, during, and after a flu outbreak and so many of the images still haunt me. A plane, presumably full of infected people, lands in an airport and NO ONE EVER EMERGES. The main character was checking social media in his high rise apartment while the world ended! THAT COULD BE US, YOU GUYS. He looked out the window and saw the highway completely full of cars. I can no longer go to an airport or be stuck in traffic without thinking of this  book.  

But here's one good thing that stuck with me: what doesn't change between the old world and new world is the human tendency to understand our world through art—love that. 

Sick in the Head

Before he was making all of your favorite movies and TV shows, Judd Apatow was a kid who loved comedy. In high school, he cold called up and coming comedians like Jerry Seinfeld and Jay Leno (heard of them?) and asked to interview them for his publication, which he did not mention was a high school newspaper. Slick move, Judd.

Sick in the Head is those interviews and more recent ones, with comedians ranging from Amy Schumer to Mel Brooks to... Eddie Vedder? This book is full of behind the scenes stories, nuggets of wisdom, and funny one liners (and random rock stars). 

“No, that debate is insane to me. It doesn’t even make me mad. It’s like asking, Do Jewish people smell like orange juice? It’s just such a weird question. It’s not even a question.”

— Amy Schumer on the question of whether women can be funny

“He once said to me, Life is ridiculous, so why not be a good guy? That may be the only religion I have to this day.”

— Judd Apatow on Harold Ramis

The Measure of a Man: From Auschwitz Survivor to Presidents' Tailor

I did not expect a book that starts with an in-depth account of Auschwitz to be so uplifting and happy... but here we are. Martin Greenfield came to New York after surviving Auschwitz and with a lot of determination and smart decisions (and a little luck), he became the tailor of choice for pretty much every important person ever (you know—the Presidents Bush and Steve Buscemi.) I especially loved seeing the United States through the eyes of an immigrant, and hearing how accepting and welcoming our country was to him. It made me think about how our country treats immigrants, and how we can do better.  I read this right before the 4th of July and was feeling all of the red, white, and blue feels.

The Royal We

Y'ALL. I loved this book so, so much. It is essentially William and Kate fan fiction but calling it fan fiction seems like a disservice. It was smart, hilarious, fun, and satisfying—which I completely expected from the authors, Heather Cocks and Jessica Morgan of the blog Go Fug Yourself. I didn't want this book to end. In fact, I could barely bear to bring it back to the library so I paid approximately three dollars for it to sit next to my bed so I could gaze at it a little longer. WORTH IT. 

Department of Speculation

I mentioned at one point, while talking about Fates and Furies, that I'm over whiny, privileged narrators. Is it so much to ask to read a book where people are happy?

By the end of this book I had highlighted so many beautifully written passages that I didn't even care that no one was happy. Also this book is like, 160 pages. I can handle whiny hipsters in small doses.  

“That swirl of hair on the back of her head. We must have taken a thousand pictures of it.”

— Jenny Offill, Dept. of Speculation

Between the World and Me

I relate far more to Jenny Offill's whiny hipsters than I do to Ta-Nehisi Coates -- that is to say that I will never understand what it's like to black in this country. But I can listen, and I can learn, and when a book like this exists there's really no reason not to.  

“Black people love their children with a kind of obsession. You are all we have, and you come to us endangered.”

— Ta-Nehisi Coates, Between the World and Me

hello, 2016

This post is the blog version of me running into a meeting fifteen minutes late, sweating even though it's -11 degrees outside (that's not hyperbole, it's -11 degrees outside right now), carrying thirteen different notebooks and four bags hoping that one of them contains the notes I need. Am I too late? Can I still participate? (Am I fired?)

In 2015, nothing changed and everything changed. We brought a new human into the world and our hearts grew three sizes and I now catch vomit in the palm of my hand...but I don't feel all that different. My street got its first handlebar mustache, a sure sign that our neighborhood is headed for bigger and better and more hipster-y things. Ike hasn't been on a walk since February (that's not true but I think that's how he feels.) Y started his first office job, and I had to coach him through traumatic experiences like "people keep interrupting me and I can't get anything done" and "OUR PRINTER NEVER WORKS."

I always like to use these "currently" templates to reset writer's block:

reading It's What I Do, by Lyndsey Addario -- the memoir of a photojournalist who runs toward bombs in Istanbul, sneaks into remote towns in Iraq, and wanders through Darfur without water. I like reading about brave women because frankly, I am not one. (I cried at a bat mitzvah because the DJ wanted me to play a game where balloons would be popped in my vicinity. I was 30.)

writing in THREE of those novelty journals that places like Anthropologie basically force me to buy every time I walk in the door: Q&A A Day, Mom's Q&A A Day, and Mom's One Line a Day. When Chronicle Books outlined their ideal target market, they basically drew a picture of me. 

listening to D's sound machine, which is an old iPod tuned to a white noise album on Spotify. My "Discover Weekly" on Spotify is so sad. It's all ocean sounds and meditation albums.

thinking about which critically acclaimed drama* Y and I should take on next. We're just starting season 2 of Fargo.

* "If you've ever held someone you love and watched hours of critically acclaimed dramas, you've experienced the peak of human happiness." -- Aziz Ansari

smelling lingering garlic from the disaster of a crockpot meal I tried to make yesterday. I really want to be an amazing cook, but I just don't think it's going to happen. I'll stick with baking and restaurants and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

hoping that I can find some way to sweat this week. Some days I manage to work out 5 times in a week, sometimes it's once. 

wearing This dress that I tried on thinking was just a dress, but quickly realized was actually loungewear - a word that I feel really fancy saying. For this lounge-y Sunday, I've paired it with a simple pair of snow boots in case I need to let the dog out. 

loving INSTACART. LISTEN. They brought my groceries to. my. house. At 9 pm on a Friday. I love the future so much. 

wanting ice cream. I am broken, y'all. The colder it gets, the more I crave ice cream. D is in the middle of an epic nap, but I'm thinking we might need to go on an ice cream date to Milkjam -- the latest ice cream shop to hit Minneapolis (it looks like a cross between Jeni's and Milk Bar and I am SO DOWN) -- when she wakes up. 

needing to think about packing for our next adventure, to exotic and mysterious Wisconsin. 

feeling panicky. Nap time is a beautiful, wonderful thing, but I panic throughout each and every one. Should I clean? No, why waste precious free time with something boring like that -- read blogs! No wait, work out! No wait, write something! No wait, read a book! Just when I decide what to do, she wakes up. 

clicking the Zillow app. We have no plans to move but in the summer I like to walk around the lake and imagine what the multi million dollar houses on the shore look like inside. Now I'm in hibernation mode and I have to be creative, so I just look at the multi million dollar houses on Zillow. Pro: I can actually peek inside them.  Con: this activity yields far fewer steps on an activity tracker.

too many words about a concert

I was a mildly angsty teenager -- angsty enough to listen to music and feel something, but not so angsty as to feel actual angst for more than a few minutes at a time. I think this is a good temperament to shoot for.

When I was a freshman in college, I was at school six hours from home and a hurricane was hurtling toward my hometown, my family, and all of the friends I was desperately missing. In one of my moments of angst, I thought, "If they're going to get hit by a hurricane, I'm going to be there with them," jumped in my car, and sped home (I literally sped. I got a ticket in the middle of nowhere Mississippi.) listening to the song "Hurricane" by Something Corporate on repeat.

you don't do it on purpose but you make me shake / now I count the hours till you wake / with your baby's breath sweet symphonies / come on sweet catastrophe

Whenever I needed to be angsty, Something Corporate was there for me with lines like "she needs to hear she's beautiful" and "you can tell me why you just don't fit in/and how you're gonna be something" and, when my mom died, an entire song called Ruthless. Her name was Ruth.

I stood in line for hours to be in the front row at shows; to meet the lead singer Andrew McMahon. For high school art, I did a photography project based on Something Corporate lyrics. I posed my friend Michael holding a bouquet of flowers in the doorway of a half constructed house in my neighborhood (maybe when the door gets broke down, love can break in.) and, in the darkroom, watched my favorite song come to life in a tub of developer.

I was very deep.

"You always catch the clock, it's 11:11 / and you want to talk"

And then, for whatever reason, I stopped needing music to help me feel things.  I left this band and its words with my high school self's "problems." I was vaguely aware that Andrew McMahon was still around - making music, dealing with a terrible cancer diagnosis, fighting cancer, beating cancer, making music. 

And then, when I was six months pregnant, he re-emerged into my life with a song called Cecilia and the Satellite, about his baby girl, Cecilia. 

“Don’t be afraid Cecilia
I’m the satellite
And you’re the sky”

And I remembered how music can help you feel things.

Last month, I convinced my friend Bri to go to with me to Andrew McMahon's Minneapolis concert at First Ave. She had a baby two days after I did, and as soon as I had her listen to Cecilia and the Satellite, she was on board. We were sitting in a restaurant just before the concert, drinking wine and eating tater tots like the classy new moms we are, and I was telling her how far back my Andrew McMahon fandom went.

"I even brought one of the photos I developed to a concert," I said out loud for the first time since high school, cringing, "and handed it to him after the show. It felt very important." 

We laughed at former me.

"I wonder if he still has it," Bri said. "I wish we could ask him."

And then he walked into the restaurant. 

Seriously. He was wearing a giant coat, because Minneapolis, and his wife and baby -- the Cecilia -- were right behind him.  He greeted some fans around the restaurant, and walked right past me and disappeared as we sat there, frozen, our question unasked and unanswered.

We laughed at current me.

We laughed at timing. At pictures of our babies. At how many tater tots we consumed. And then we ducked into the concert and marveled at how the dad in the coat that had just brushed past us was now jumping on a piano, moving hundreds of people to tears. 

And then we blogged about it -- the 2015 version of standing in line to tell an artist how much their work means to you.

WKND 11.8.2015 and 11.1.2015

8 snaps  

November 8 weekend | 1. A November warm enough to sit outside is a beautiful thing | 2. I just love that these are our neighborhood swings | 3. One of the many activities they enjoy doing together (others include playing with dirty diapers and drooling) | 4. Just Sunday

November 1 weekend | 1. There is something equally hilarious and, for some reason, sad, about the idea of a baby painting a picture of a dragonfly | 2. First Halloween: successful until you consider that our trick or treaters took all the Reese's pumpkins and left all the Twix | 3. She has good taste | 4. My dinner part rules: I'll make you food if you bring your instant camera and take lots of pictures of me

4 moments

1. On Sunday I read a book on my couch for TWO UNINTERRUPTED HOURS. Do you have any idea what a luxury that is?! 

2. Crazy Halloween this year, guys. I dressed Dalia and myself in Rosie the Riveter costumes under the guise of feminism, but really because it required nothing more than a five dollar bandana from Target. (We already had chambray shirts. What are we, animals???) We went to a party at 2 pm in a basement apartment where I sat on the floor with a bowl of candy corn and an apple cider and grand marnier, and Dalia enjoyed one chicken nugget. Then we answered the door for our six trick or treaters while friends came over for a glass of wine. Something about this series of events makes me feel refined and low key all at the same time. 

3. In the books: my first Shabbat dinner as a Jewish mother. My matzah balls were, according to Y, "bad." The challah I picked up from Whole Foods was, according to Y, "meh." The ham stuffed squash our friends brought was, unanimously, "not kosher." (But so, so good.)

4. Last weekend we got a baby gate. If you're visiting Minneapolis and love hearing obscenities screamed every three minutes, please do stop by my house because we have tripped on that stupid thing nearly every time we've walked into the kitchen.

In fact, one time I thought I heard Ike eating the remains of a rotisserie chicken off the counter so I ran as fast as I could and then sat screaming on the kitchen floor convinced I had broken my toes. We even got so far as to brainstorm babysitters in case we needed to go the ER.

(Well, Y brainstormed. I sat hunched over yelling something about how my toe felt like a wet noodle.)

In the end, we decided my toes were not broken, but they did turn blue. We've been calling the incident BabyGate. 

And as far as who hasn't been having trouble getting past the baby gate...

4 tastes

1 | Breakfast with Y at a neighborhood-y spot called Pilgrimage Cafe. Neither of us were into it. At all.

2 | A new friend of mine recently introduced me to an amazing dish I hadn't really thought much about before: APPLESAUCE OMG THAT STUFF IS DELICIOUS. Also that new friend is my eight month old. 

3 | I worked remotely last week from the new Urban Bean. Not only was it beautiful, I had the best oatmeal of my life, hands down. And you should know that I have traveled around Ireland eating porridge at bed and breakfasts so I know my shit.

4 | It appears I need to step up my eating game.

reading

Still going on The Clasp, and liking it more and more. In the car I've listened to Why Not Me (Mindy Kaling's new book, and I'm one of those people who thinks she can do no wrong so I loved it), and am now listening to On the Move (Oliver Sacks' autobiography). 

listening

So much Hamilton, so many podcasts (I need an entire post to talk about my favorite podcasts), and a lot of Adele. I don't watch much tv (starting a new tv show seems like a lot of energy, and the fact that there is SO MUCH good tv and I will never have the chance to see all of it makes me not even want to try... I am officially the only person too lazy to watch TV), but we started watching Master of None (Aziz Ansari's new Netflix show) and it's SO good.  

Where I come from...

During the third song at the Ingrid Michaelson concert last June in Minneapolis, a woman in the fifth row started tapping her foot.

I know this because I was high up in the balcony with a view of the entire audience, and this woman was literally the only person moving.

Forget the snow and the bone-chilling cold: this is my least favorite thing about Minneapolis. Here, dancing at concerts is weird. People stare at you and make snide comments under their breath. 

(I don't know how I still have friends, because one of my favorite hobbies is convincing people to go to concerts with me, and then spending 60% of the time complaining about how no one is moving.) 

Last month, in New Orleans, I realized why this bothers me so much. 

Y and I decided to take Dalia on the streetcar to the French Quarter.  I was regretting my decision as we crossed the street into the icky part of the Quarter, dodging puddles of mystery liquid. It smelled like last night's daiquiri. (I, on the other hand, covered in spit up and carrying a tiny human who poops herself, smelled heavenly.)

But the whole experience was redeemed when we ran into a crowd of people, a dancer, and a band  in front of St. Louis Cathedral. It was a funeral -- not just any funeral, famed chef Paul Prudhomme's funeral -- and the jazz march was about to start.  

As the band led the mourners and spectators and a handful of famous chefs down the street to Prudhomme's restaurant, as service industry people stepped out of their restaurants and removed their hats in respect, as the band leader (Rockin Dopsie Jr) encouraged the crowd to dance with him to When the Saints Go Marching In, I understood why the lack of enthusiasm and celebration at Minneapolis concerts bothers me so much: 

Where I come from, we dance at funerals. 

WKND 10.25.15

4 snaps (okay, 5)

1. All of my fall dreams came true when Y raked our front yard and I plunked D into the pile of leaves and she LOVED it. | 2. Waiting for brunch at The Kenwood. | 3. Ike ate my decorative gourds and now fall is RUINED. |4. Don't you love it when you randomly stumble across the perfect leaf strewn walk? Fall redeemed. | 5. Hey, have you heard it's fall?

4 moments

1 | Saturday afternoon. I'm sitting on my couch watching college football playing around on my new obsession, The List App. It's like Twitter, but instead of 140 characters, you get your very own bulleted list. I love a good bulleted list.

This is right after Ike ate my gourd, so, as has been my custom over the past two weeks, I make a list about it. 

And then it happens. Someone else, from across the country, is also sitting on their couch - or maybe their toilet? In line at Target? - and sees my stupid picture of Ike, chuckles, and decides it is worth sharing.

And that someone was John Mayer. 

It wasn't a big deal. I only texted "MY BODY IS A WONDERLAND" to a cool dozen of my friends  and am still talking about it five days later. But it really wasn't a big deal.  

2 | Do you watch The Americans? On one episode, a ridiculous character named Martha repeatedly asks her partner, in the most obnoxious voice known to man, if they can have a "long lazy romantic morning" and now anytime Y and I have nothing to do on a weekend, we call it LLRMing (pronounce lurming, although I think it should be pronounced yurming). A LLRM can consist of a wide variety of things, from breakfast at the restaurant down the street, to breakfast at the slightly nicer restaurant across town. But what's really important about it is that it usually doesn't involve phones. (Which can be a little upsetting when all of your friends including John Mayer live in your phone.)

3 | Speaking of phones, I felt strangely relaxed this weekend and on Sunday afternoon, I finally pinpointed why: for the first time in WEEKS, neither my phone nor my computer were out of space. I had no idea how STRESSFUL those popups were. It's like when you know you're in trouble, but your parents won't yell at you, which everyone knows is  much worse. 

4 |  As much as I love and miss screaming my face off at an LSU game, my stomach full of free jambalaya and tequila shots, there's something to be said about my current LSU football gameday ritual: watching the game on my couch, snuggled up with Ike. Bonus points if gumbo has been sitting on the stove all day.

That being said, if you give me tickets to the Alabama game I'll be there in a heartbeat, decked out in purple and gold and ready to scream, dance and be unnecessarily mean to people from Alabama and eat all of your Cajun food. 

4 tastes

1 | Eggy's diner. It wasn't my favorite breakfast, but it was fine and they have grits.

2 | HOWEVER, I also had brunch at The Kenwood this weekend and they ALSO have grits that are 10 times better. 

3 | Also at The Kenwood: banana bread with salty butter that tasted like a legit HUG. We're going to be talking about this banana bread for a long time. 

4 | I like to make this chicken on Sunday nights and make dinner out of it for practically the rest of the week - tacos, breakfast tacos, taco salad... so really, we just eat a lot of tacos.

reading

I Was Told There'd Be Cake by Sloan Crosley is one of my favorite books, so when I heard her first novel, The Clasp, was coming out this month I put myself on the library waiting list immediately. I'm liking it so far.

listening

Let's just say there hasn't been this much Drake in my house since I binge watched Degrassi. 

WKND 10.10.15

4 snaps

1. I realized that one of the things I miss about the South is the front porch culture, perfect for sweet moments like this one | 2. I always make fun of Y for getting the "basic breakfast" when we go out to eat, but when the "basic breakfast" includes cheese grits and praline bacon, I'm in, too. | 3. We're fun. P.S., The husbands of the Carols have decided that they are starting Lorac Convention. I'm certain it won't be as fun. | 4. Baby's first beignet. I chickened out at the last minute and didn't let her eat any. More for me. 

4 moments

1 |  We stumbled upon an epic jazz funeral (for Chef Paul Prudhomme!) which was one of the most amazing things I've ever experienced. More on that later. 

2 | I highly recommend playing Cards Against Humanity with your in laws,  walking to every meal (with a bloody mary in hand, preferably), sleeping with cats that befriend you in an airbnb (we loved this place if you're ever looking for a place to stay in New Orleans!), pumping on a bathroom floor with your besties, and dancing until the wee hours of... ten pm. Hashtag this is thirty (one).

3 | Like many parts of parenting, flying with a baby wasn't nearly as awful as I expected -- even though D cried half of our plane ride home. Every time I thought someone was giving me the stink-eye, it turns out they were just trying to catch our attention so they could wave, play peekaboo, or give us a bag of cookies "for the baby" (yeah, I ate those.)  

4 |  Ten years ago, you might have found my friends Dana, Rachel and I on our couch on LSU's campus watching Newlyweds (Fact: I once owned a tank top from Gadzooks that said I'm a Jessica and it is one of my greatest regrets in life). This weekend, you might have found us dressing our daughters -- who are ten months, eight months, and two months -- in matching I woke up like this onesies and praying that none of them ever identifies as a Newlyweds-era Jessica. 

4 tastes

1 | Morning Call beignets on a picnic blanket in City Park. Best enjoyed with a big group of friends. 

2 | We had the first floor of Elizabeth's to ourselves on a Monday morning, so no one was there to judge me when I ate 6 pieces of praline bacon.

3 | Boudin at Frank's in Baton Rouge. We might move back to Louisiana solely for the boudin.

4 | The best part about New Orleans? When you're out to brunch and you're too busy feeding the baby to finish your mimosa, you can just... take it with you.

reading

FATES AND FURIES CAN YOU JUST END ALREADY?

listening

So many random songs punctuated our fun weekend:  a little Feist, What Does the Fox Say, When the Saints go Marching In, the Macarena.  By the end of our time down south, D had officially started dancing in response to music. What more could you expect from a weekend in Louisiana?

an average saturday night

Have I mentioned that Y is re-building a car in our garage? Probably not, because I haven't mentioned much of anything lately. 

Well he is - he traded the moped he rebuilt (are you noticing a theme here?) for car parts and is slowly but surely rebuilding a 1974 MGB.

One night recently we were hanging out in the garage -- Y was re-torquing the engine-motor-piston-crankometer (or something) and I was playing with the watercolors that kind of just fell into my basket at Target (you know how that goes, right?). We were listening to Taylor Swift and The Presidents of the United States of America.

Quick question: is there anyone out there that loves The Presidents of the United States of America as much as Y does? I think he might be their one remaining fan.

Anyway, our next door neighbors' teenage daughter was having a party, and Y walked outside to throw something away and discovered a puddle of human vomit on our driveway.

Something else you might not know about Y: he is one of million of people affected by EOG. Early Onset Grumpiness.  

(Let's review the things we've learned about Y in this post: rebuilding a car, fan of mediocre 90s music, grump. Have I mentioned I like him a lot?)

All that to say that Y was not happy after discovering puke on our property. He went into full on GET OFF MY LAWN mode -- all while wearing mechanic coveralls with a name patch.

I've never been more proud. (I can't wait until D is old enough to be embarrassed.)

WKND 10.5.15

4 snaps

1. Neighborhood-ish coffee shop | 2. The girls at R's wedding | | 3.  Megan spent a large chunk of her vacation strolling D up and down the aisles of a Target express | | 4. Father daughter dances are best performed with one sock.

4 moments

1 | I was constantly two hours behind this weekend and at one point spent what felt like a full three hours in a pharmacy. Can I get a weekend from the weekend?

2 | A one-time stranger that I met on the internet slept in my basement this weekend and we watched Pitch Perfect 2, sang songs about apple picking, and drank all of the trendy coffee. I think this proves that not everyone you meet online is a creepy old man. Maybe, like, 4% of people. (Hi, Megan and Rob!)

3 | Two years ago, my friend R said "I'm dating a guy. He has a lip ring and he's coming to dinner with us" and we drank too much wine over a prix fixe seafood menu while said guy told hilarious story after hilarious story. Yesterday, they got married in an adorable theater on a lake and they all lived happily ever after! Congratulations to R&G!

4 |  D sat quietly on my lap for over an hour while I got a pedicure. She is officially the Best Baby Ever. Never mind the cucumber she threw in the water (so refreshing?) and the broccoli spear that bounced off of my neighbor's purse. Everyone loves a surprise cruciferous vegetable in their handbag, right?

4 tastes

1 | Hola Arepa. I might need to cool it with the arepas, but they are SO. GOOD. 

2 | I was excited to take my gluten-free friend to Sassy Spoon, a new GF restaurant close by. Their breakfast was...fine, but in the past I've liked their zucchini noodle pad thai takeout, and their homemade chai is amazing. This fall you might find D and I wrapped up in blanket scarves walking through crunchy leaves to get some hot chai.  

3 | I only made it through a few sips of my black pepper and cherry cocktail at Haute Dish on Friday night before I had to go, but I WILL be back for another one. 

4 | I finally convinced Y to try an egg and banana pancake and, as I suspected, he was a fan. Currently I like mine topped with pumpkin, yogurt, walnuts, and a teeny bit of syrup. 

reading

I'm still working on Fates and Furies, which I'm enjoying for the most part, but I'm a little tired of privileged, unhappy characters in my books. Anyone else feeling that way?

listening

We spent a lot of time in the car this weekend,  so a lot of time was spent trying to convince D to sleep. All it takes is a few minutes of 1989. I had to run a completely obnoxious errand on Saturday and, as I told a friend, it took me 10 Taylor Swift Songs to get there and back 

State of the Baby: We All Smell Like Cottage Cheese (7 months)

7 months | 1 month

Dalia loves: 

+ 4:45 am. I mean, who doesn't love waking up at 4:45 am? (HINT IT'S ME)

+ Grabbing my face. At 4:45 am. 

+ Dad. When he walks in the room, she looks at him like he's a celebrity. For reference, when I walk into the room she smiles and then says the baby equivalent of HUBBA HUBBA and starts trying to take off my shirt. AT 4:45 am. 

+ Smacking. If she's ever smiling in a picture, it's probably because I was smacking.

+ Also, everything. She pretty much loves everything.

Dalia hates:

+ Waiting too long to eat. I get it -- I mean, have you ever had to wait in line for brunch? As Mindy Kaling once said, Hell is waiting in line for brunch.

+ The supermoon. Or maybe she loves it? Either way, she did NOT want to sleep that night. 

+ The first 10 seconds of being in a new position. 

The four stages of bath time: anger, joy, VOGUE, VOGUE.

New tricks:

+ When you blow in her face, she smiles in a way that can only be described as coy, and bats her eyelashes like she's a model in front of a wind machine. 

+ Petting the dog. And by that I mean petting the dog, and then clutching his fur in her tiny fist, and then pulling out hundreds of tiny hairs, and then sprinkling them around the house.  

+ She knows where all plugs and wires are at all times. Looking for your phone charger? Dalia will find it in 10 seconds flat. That usb cord you stored away knowing you  might need it someday? Hire Dalia to track it down. 

+ When you come into her room in the morning and turn on the light, she blinks in surprise... and then faceplants. 

Current Nicknames:

+ Roo Roo, short for Dalia Ruth

+ Booger, because why not?

+ Silly Goosenik because... too many hours of watching The Americans? Who knows. 

If I were to write a memoir about this time I'd call it:

Mama Needs Her Hair Back or We All Smell Like Cottage Cheese

WKND 9.28.2015

4 snaps

1. This is how D greets us after a nap | | 2. Things to love about Agra Culture: the smoothies, the AC on a hot day, and this wall | | 3. We've just discovered the joys of spreading a blanket out in our front yard...just in time for it to get cold and dark | | 4. A day off without D means Ike reclaims his title of Favorite Baby.  

4 moments

1 | One of our neighbors lost his cat, and I've been a little too invested in this, considering I've never met the guy or the cat. On Saturday night, Y was outside and he called me, sounding excited. "I think we found the cat! Open the front door -- I think it might be on our front porch." YESSS, I thought, We found her! I put Ike in the bedroom so he wouldn't scare off the cat and daydreamed about the look on our neighbor's face when we told him the news. I slooowly opened the door... to see a raccoon snuggling up on our front porch and Y and two of our other neighbors laughing hysterically on the sidewalk. Jerks. 

2 | We watched the movie Spy on Friday night, and our favorite line was when 50 Cent makes a surprise appearance at a convert in Budapest and says "Hey Budapest, I just ate goulash, shit was on point".

3 | At brunch on Sunday morning, I took a bite of a crepe cake (because we ordered three desserts before our meal, because obviously) and said, "hmm, it's kind of tasteless yet weirdly comforting" and my friend said, "it's like when you were a kid and ate sticks of butter" and I just have so many questions.

4 |  Usually when I have a day off from work, it's a holiday and daycare is also closed. But Monday.... I had the day off, daycare was OPEN, and Y took the day off and we did what everyone longs to do after they have children-- we took a nice long bike ride to get fried chicken and ice cream in peace and quiet.

While sitting at lunch waiting for our fried chicken, I accidentally knocked the table with my foot and a pitcher of water crashed onto the table and spilled all over the floor, making the LOUDEST noise. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that the restaurant, pleasantly noisy in the middle of the lunch rush, became silent and everyone looked at me. I waved. I guess it wasn't the baby making dining out hard. 

4 tastes

1 | Fried chicken from Revival (the BISCUITS), ice cream from Pumphouse. Let's talk about this ice cream. It was buttermilk flavored, with lemon bars mixed in. The lemon bars were from a local bakery called Baker's Wife, which is worth mentioning because a) best donuts in town, b) .50/donut, c) within leisurely strolling distance from my house.

2 | Exciting news! I can report that Dalia officially loves pumpkin and has thus unlocked level one of autumnal bliss. Next step: a tiny pair of boots and a tiny scarf. 

3 | Brunch at the restaurant everyone's talking about: Spoon and Stable. There was a chocolate hazelnut cherry situation that was amazing, and I don't like chocolate OR cherry. The crepe cake, as noted above, was tasteless but comforting.

4 | This delicious tomato sauce with the insane amount of tomatoes we keep getting in our CSA box. 

reading

Fates and Furies, which we're all supposed to be loving, right? It took me about 50 pages but I think I'm finally getting into it.

listening

Do you know about Hamilton? It's a hip hop musical about Alexander Hamilton and I spent my Saturday night streaming the original Broadway cast recording  on NPR. GOD I'M FUN. No but really, it's amazing, and now it's on Spotify. DO IT.

Photobooth

You can have your smelly goats and fried whatever on a stick -- my favorite part of the Minnesota State Fair is the vintage photobooths. They're so vintage they need a sign: This is actual film. Please be patient.

Last month marked our fourth yearly visit to the fair, and after we showed Dalia the state's largest boar (she was so impressed she may have wet herself), we set off to take our annual photo.

We came prepared; we knew the photobooths were next door to the butterfly house... we just forgot where the butterfly house was.

As we snaked our way through fanny packed fairgoers and livestock turds, our conversation felt familiar.

"This looks right, doesn't it?"

"I know where it is, just follow me."

"I think we turn right up here."

"I know where it is, just follow me."

"Isn't it near the cookies?"

"Can you please just FOLLOW ME?"

After 20 minutes of passing the same corndog stand, we realized that finding the photobooths--and arguing incessantly about their location--was as much a part of the tradition as the 30 seconds behind the curtain.

It's always important to honor old traditions -- I'm already excited for next year's navigation-themed argument -- but new state fair traditions may include: nursing while eating an ear of corn, napping while Y looks at the tractors, getting licked by an angry horse, and inhaling a milkshake while walking back to our car.

P.S. my first impressions of the MN State Fair are here and here

WKND 9.15.15

4 snaps

 1. The most beautiful butterfly you've ever seen || 2. Good meat from the Lone Grazer || 3. Playing around with watercolors || 4. FLYING into the new year at Rosh Hashana services? Ha...ha?

4 moments

1 | Recently, I went to the mall and left a little sad. You see, for some reason, nineties fashion is back and the stores are filled with overalls, chunky clogs, scrunchies, and daisies. This stuff was popular when I was in 6th and 7th grade, and I don't know about you, but middle school was NOT fun for me. As I walked to the parking lot, I was an eleven year old again: with a pocket full of yin yang stickers and no one to share them with, headed home to watch SNICK alone on my couch. This trend is AWFUL.

This weekend, Y said, "Can we talk about how the lady on the cover of the Madewell catalog looks like a mom from the 90s?" Y has spoken -- this needs to end.

2 | On Saturday, our neighborhood hosted the Monarch Festival, which celebrates the monarch butterfly migration from Minnesota to Mexico with butterfly releases, butterfly crafts, Aztec dancers, salsa dancing, tacos, people dressed like butterflies on stilts... you know, what you would expect. The best part was that we kept running into people we know, so Y had MULTIPLE opportunities to tell this really amazing joke about how he thought the Monarch Festival was going to be a tribute to the history of the British royal family.

3 | On the way home from dinner at a friend's house, waaaay past Dalia's bedtime, she fell asleep in her fancy pink dress in the carseat. In what historians are calling THE BIGGEST PARENTING WIN EVER, Y and I got her out of her carseat, out of her dress, and into pajamas with lots of snaps WITHOUT WAKING HER UP. I've never been more proud.

 4 | Y and one of his friends went on an impromptu dad-date the other day and took the babies for a walk. Suddenly, I had an hour and a half to myself, which was far more stressful than it should have been. I think I spent the first hour and 29 minutes alternating between trying to decide what I should do with all of my free time and hyperventilating that my free time was quickly expiring. Finally I decided to go for a bike ride and it was GLORIOUS.

4 tastes

1 | For some reason, despite hating every taco I try, I keep ordering them in various places around the Twin Cities. I mean, when you live in , and I keep being horribly disappointed. At the Monarch Festival we tried Taco Taxi and YES. Just yes. (One other exception has been Sonora.)

2 | Victor's 1959 Cuban Cafe. On the patio. Mango pancakes and a side of avocado for the baby.

3 | Our neighborhood had a block party in the parking lot of our corner grocery store. There was all kinds of stuff going on -- Y accidentally walked in the middle of a cake walk (he didn't win) and someone from the neighborhood church slipped a gift bag into Dalia's stroller with a Bible coloring book and a cross necklace -- but the main purpose seemed to be for local vendors that are sold in the grocery store to sample their products. Bloody Marys. Salsa. Homemade granola bars. Cheese curds. Salami. Chocolate. Honey. Granola. Coffee. I LOVE MY NEIGHBORHOOD.

4 | At Terzo wine bar, there's this brilliant situation where, after you order your food, your waiter asks if you want to try the taste of the day for a dollar. Presented beautifully on a little spoon is one delicious bite of some combination the chef has dreamed up. Ours was delicious, but I was too busy marveling about the concept to remember what exactly we ate. Whatever it was, it had a balsamic drizzle.

reading /listening

I've started four books this weekend and haven't been into any of them, including, sadly, Gumption by Nick Offerman. It pains me to type that. / My background noise of choice this weekend is all of the college football.