Thread and Bread

On Valentine’s Day, the Caped Crusader received some adorable handmade cards:

But things had also changed since I was a kid. I expected a sweet thing or two hidden within the pile, but I had no idea that Valentine’s Day is the new Halloween. So maybe what happened next can be blamed on all of the candy. Or maybe it was because of the party. Or possibly the cupcakes. But certainly, it could not–and never would be–the Caped Crusader’s true nature.

It began when the Caped Crusader made gifts for two special Valentines:

Bracelets.

But on the actual day, the Caped Crusader was reluctant to give them up. Not because he was nervous. No, nerves were a thing of the past. Not because he didn’t want the other girls to find out. No, we had crafted a plan that involved me telling the mother of those two girls about the gifts and stealthily slipping them into her hand. Not because he knew that one of the girls likes another boy. No, the Caped Crusader doesn’t seem to mind; after all, her twin sister likes him (the girls had also educated the Caped Crusader by pointing out and labeling some of the boys as “crushes,” so armed with this new information, he ran toward me after school breathless and enlightened. Apparently, there’s lots of ins-and-outs to first grade.)

The truth of the matter is that the Caped Crusader had an idea.

Sell the bracelets.

Sell them on the playground to all of those girls who kiss and hug and mother him. Literally string them along. And this is where I need to clarify one thing about our son: the Caped Crusader loves money. He counts the money in his piggy bank. He keeps track of his deposits in his savings account. He lists the assets in his bedroom and adds a monetary value to them. He doesn’t spend money on toys, and he says he wants to dress up as a millionaire for Halloween.

And so the Capitalist got to work.

And I couldn’t believe that all of those beads that had been purchased at the thrift store for pennies on the dollar were going to be hocked back to the very same girls who might have given them away. I’ll admit, it was exciting. The Caped Crusader made patterns with the beads while I strung and tied them.

On the first morning of the Caped Crusader’s “store”–with bracelets safely tucked away in his coat pocket–I dropped him off at school and wished him luck. Yes, these girls kiss and hug and call the Caped Crusader pet names.

But do they bite?

Naturally, the kittens came out once again. But this year, puppies were added to the mix, too.

We had bought some sparkly red paper a month ago and put it to good use.

And then we assembled the idea–rugged enough to come from a boy yet cute enough for a girl. The best part of each Valentine was the personalized name of the girl on front (okay, that and the puppies and kittens). The Caped Crusader thought they looked awesome:

And what did I think?

I had a ball! I had so much fun making these Valentines for those brazen little girls. I laughed every time I spotted them on the table. Believe me, there was no way I was missing this classroom party. I needed a front-row seat to see their reactions.

Of course, the energy in the classroom was high and the kids were buzzing with anticipation and excitement. Every Valentine that was opened was a considered a sweet little gift (as it should be), but I did hear a few girls squeal and say, “Aaawww!” when they pulled out their kitten/puppy. One girl even ran up to the Caped Crusader and gave him a big hug and thanked him. And one mom whispered that her daughter said his was her favorite Valentine.

Truthfully, the those Valentines weren’t intended to be a competition. But there was one special girl who did take away the prize. In this case, the Caped Crusader reserved the only picture of a baby leopard for her. Handsome and I both quietly agreed that the black-and-white photo was underwhelming, but the Caped Crusader was determined to give this unique card to that unique girl:

I shouldn’t have been concerned.

When that girl opened her Valentine, she squealed and thanked the Caped Crusader, and some of the surrounding girls looked over her shoulder and said, “Aaawww, it’s a baby leopard!”

There was also a special handmade gift that the Caped Crusader had worked on for two nights until he got it just so. And during the making of that special gift, came a special idea.

And that’s where all the trouble began…

Long, long ago, I used to work in the nonprofit sector. I was surrounded with like-minded colleagues and employees, all of us progressive liberals trying to make our small portion of the world a better place. And longer ago than that, Handsome lived a radical lifestyle where Lefties were considered the conservatives.

So naturally, once I became pregnant with the Caped Crusader, some of my colleagues wondered about the political fate of our baby. One colleague, in particular, said Handsome and I were going to have an Alex P. Keaton. She made sure to say it over and over (always followed by scoffs and giggles). “Ha, ha,” I said.

Fast forward to Valentine’s Day 2012. The Caped Crusader is seven years old and in his groove. The girls (oh, those girls) still follow and hug him, but the kissing has stopped. At least kisses of the physical nature because, recently, when I pulled out some of the Caped Crusader’s completed homework from his folder, I discovered this:

(Who is your girlfriend?)

And this:

(A girl with a heart on one side of the Caped Crusader’s assignment…)

(…connected to a boy with a heart on the other side of the assignment…)

(…and a giant heart with “kissing” and “hugs” written in the middle.)

Hmm…

No doubt, these gems were written by a girl or two, and a very displeased Caped Crusader–displeased by my discovery of this evidence–confirmed my suspicion. There was no way these girls were going to receive a thin, manufactured Valentine from the grocery store. No, these girls deserved more. Heck, these girls provide conversation fodder for the dinner table and at holiday get-togethers. These girls are entertainment.

And so with that, the Caped Crusader and I set to work on creating a bigger and better Valentine…

(The Caped Crusader sandwiched in between a hugging girl and a friend who is trying to save him.)

My posts here will be less frequent, that’s for sure. My goal is to post at least four times per month.

My commitment to my large project waxes and wanes. I’m trying to push through the difficult times, but it is painful. Very, very painful.

I miss sewing. Creative sewing has taken a back seat to this beastly project.

I really want to paint, too. Even though I have never painted seriously (in due time…).

The girls who surround the Caped Crusader at school have calmed down after the holidays.

But their tight hugs returned this week.

Not their kissing. (Yet.)

Even though my time is being taken up with other things, I continue to craft small gifts, and I really need to share them here, in this space.

Today, I gunned down a flock of seven-year old boys at a lazer tag birthday party. I was one of three moms who turned into Rambo. I went down in a blaze of glory as I fell to the floor and continued shooting my red lazer around the circle eager enemies. Oh, the violence.

And then it was time for a song and cake.

Oh, the irony.

Wishing you a weekend full of song and celebration!

These are my resolutions. Simple. Straight-forward. And truly all-encompassing.

When I mean stretch, I really do mean stretch. I need to stretch my body. Things aren’t as fluid as they used to be and I can feel it. I also need to stretch and push myself to complete at least one long-term project that is perpetually procrastinated in favor of a clean kitchen, the laundry or a good meal.

And I do need to breathe. As in run. I need to work those lungs of mine. I also want to relax a bit more this year (which shouldn’t be too difficult since the past two and a half years have been buttoned-up and put away). Oh yes, a few massages might help me move in that direction, too…

Stretch and breathe. If these are my main concerns this year, then life doesn’t get any better than this.

(And the view of all those gorgeous winter sunrises doesn’t hurt either.)

Wishing your resolutions lead to a fulfilling journey!

So about that Christmas Eve and Christmas Day…

On Christmas Eve we made gingerbread teddy bear cookies.

And with the left-over dough, we made one chicken cookie.

As in a cookie with which to feed our out-of-town neighbors chickens. And so the holiday commenced.

That evening was a gastronomical marathon that included sun-dried tomato dip, scallop puffs, crab cakes with a remoulade sauce, roasted vegetable terrine, lemon cappelini with caviar and a giant tray of assorted candies, cookies, and chocolates.

Oh, and lots of this:

In fact, lots of that was necessary. We were celebrating Christmas. We were celebrating happier, carefree days. The three of us clinked glasses and claimed 2012 as our year. We laughed and drank (the Caped Crusader with his water) and nibbled and drank again. We said 2012 was ours. It was damn well ours and to prove it, the Caped Crusader and I drunk-dialed (me not him) a few select people and sang into the phone (him not me) and hung up. It was another version of Deck the Halls. The kind kids share with each other on the playground (although in this case, I had taught it to the Caped Crusader a year ago). I joined in and happily sang about whipping old men with barbed wire and other indiscretions. 2012 was ours.

The following morning was ours as well. Including the headache (us not the Caped Crusader; he spotted and tore into presents under the tree instead). It was also a morning where Handsome’s stomach became my science experiment as I attempted to cure gravlax once again.

Handsome declared this year’s gravlax a success (phew!). In fact, this year’s batch of bagels was the best I had ever made, too.

And if good bagels and gravlax symbolize our salad days, and it means that we’re coasting into the new year, well then, I guess 2012 is truly ours.

Let it begin.

Here’s to a happy, wonderful, carefree new year to you, too.

A few scenes of Christmas morning with a blazing hot pink sunrise. What a treat on this special day.

Merry Christmas to you!

…we send our greetings to you.

As you might know, for the past two and a half years, we’ve been slowly and cruelly turned inside-out. Yes, there was worry and pain. Yes, there was fear (lots of it; boatloads of it). But just like that–almost as suddenly as it all began–closure arrived.

Truthfully, the details don’t matter. What matters is…

…that our boy stays inspired with his big dreams…

…and that thrifted treasures greet us with smiles and winks throughout the day, every day.

We discovered…

…that a hazelnut grove can look like a painting…

…and that the morning light has stories to tell.

We’re grateful that a beach trip and a toothless smile make for a fantastic day. So does sand in between the toes, salty, matted hair and rough barnacles on our hands and feet.

Also for breaking into a run out of pure joy. Just because. And we’re so very thankful we can.

(And for jumping in, too.)

Three words: origami fortune tellers. Another three words: out of everything.

We’re thankful for finally–finally!–removing those books from our shower. And for the friends who teased us (all. year. long.) and documented it (thanks for the photos Cheryl!).

Also for the friend who said he would never, ever marry.

And finally did.

(Nevermind that the bride wore black or that their wedding cake had a unicorn vomiting a rainbow on it.)

We’re grateful for the magic of weeds and wishes…

…and for the magic of good books (and the people who spend a lifetime writing them).

We’re grateful that when days felt hopeless, the possibilities were endless.

And we’re thankful for our community of amazing farmers who not only feed us with sustenance but also with their passion, dedication and hard, hard work. We truly live in the land of milk and honey, and the grace of the dinner table is a simple and true gift.

We’re also thankful for that one quiet day when we washed more than the silk. And we discovered peace.

Happy holidays and peace to you in 2012. Much love.

Had we known…

We might not have put those star anise, in addition to the cloves, on those pomanders. The Caped Crusader quickly discovered another use for them: ninja weapons. All over the home. In fact, at one point Handsome looked at me and said, “Sweetie, what are you making? Its smells delicious. Almost like anise.”

Well, yes, it was anise. Emanating from the Caped Crusader’s stuffed pant pocket (he was standing next to Handsome when the delicious aroma of ninja weapons hit him).

We’re finding the anise, still. The Caped Crusader secretly planted them all over our patterned rugs, so we can’t see them until bare feet are bitten. Ninja landmines. My foot found a row of them lined up next to our bed this morning.

But our garbage smells fabulous.

Every year, the Caped Crusader and I hop on the bus and make the short trek downtown to sit on Santas and eat their candy canes.

This year was a interesting. The street performers were absent and one little girl clawed the Caped Crusader’s eye with her fingernail because he was petting the same Rudolph as her. The Caped Cruader was also disappointed that only one out of three Santas handed out candy canes. He received a button and a coloring book from the other two. Apparently Santa now advocates dental health.

Even so–minus the claw and lack of peppermint sweets–fun and magic was in the air.