Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Look Familiar?

"Christmas Day 1984. Or Recovery Day, after last night's big Christmas Eve dinner with my sister and her kids (well, the youngest was 19) and presents. Now it's time to relax, at least for my father and brother. Mother's probably in the kitchen preparing a dinner of yummy leftovers; this year it was prime rib. Meanwhile, there are various goodies to munch and otherwise imbibe on. I've got seasonal music playing on my system down at the other end of the room. Knowing me, it's The Nutcracker. Despite the modern lights, our tree is full of vintage ornaments, some dating back to my mother's childhood. There are also my home-made Peanuts ornaments I'd done over 20 years before. I also see that Mother still hadn't given up on African violets; as a special Christmas offering, they even seem to be blooming. Available light Kodacolor 1000 negative. View full size." From submitted by TTerrace.

Doodle's Tenth Christmas, John's First

Doodle and John, NYC ~ December 12, 2010

John actively noticed his furry big sister a couple months ago, and when she'd slink into his line of vision, he'd smile with a "Heh," and then she'd run away. Now he tries to get to the cat by semi-crawling (pulling himself military-style) across the floor. Doodle of course is 1000 times faster than John is on his best day, often sprinting out of sight before he even knows what happened. She's not exactly terrified of the baby like she is of the balance ball--because she still joins us all on the sofa or bed looking for affection--she's just smart enough to know he can't be trusted, and things are going to get a lot uglier when he can walk. I placed the step ladder up against the wall unit so that she has her very own sleeping perch high above the loud, sticky, flailing miniature person and she loves it. Soon enough she'll be living up there, descending only to eat and use the litter box. Which reminds me of another matter yet to unfold: the day John discovers the litter box. That will be an exciting day for all. (Are you also picturing turds flung about, fur flying, and Mommy crying?) 

So This is Christmas?

John, NYC ~ December 17, 2010

Monday, December 20, 2010

You're Gonna Die Probably

Oh, poison? In your tap water? Is that what you're asking? Yeah. Probably. Probably poison in your tap water. 

Friday, December 10, 2010

Hot Stuff

(At left): John as The Heat Miser, NYC ~ December 9, 2010. (At right): Mr. Heat Miser as Himself, South Town ~ December 24, 1920's - Rankin/Bass' The Year Without a Santa Claus, 1974

Monday, December 06, 2010

John Presents: This is Barf

John, NYC ~ Sunday, December 4, 2010

Monday, November 29, 2010

John Will Teach You How to Eat a Banana

John, NYC ~ November 28, 2010

John feeding himself a banana for the first time.

It helps if you have fat, pudgy meathooks with which to hold the banana, apparently.  

You've come a long way, baby!

Friday, November 19, 2010

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

elf You! elf Me!

I didn't know I needed a little Christmas, right this very minute, until this weekend, when I had the pleasure of seeing elf, a brand new Christmas musical on Broadway. I'm generally skeptical of books made into movies or movies made into Broadway shows or candy made into gum (have you ever tasted Razzles? Don't. They're horrible), and considering it is most people's opinion that Will Ferrell "makes" the 2003 motion picture Elf, how could another elf compete? But elf The Musical succeeds.

If you haven't seen the movie Elf, and don't mind a spoiler of the Broadway story, here's a synopsis. Buddy, an orphaned infant, is found by Santa in his pack after a round of delivering gifts around the globe one Christmas. Santa and his elves raise Baby Buddy in Christmastown as their own, and Buddy knows no other life despite the fact that he's terrible at making toys and three times the size of his "brethren." One day they mistakenly spill the beans in front of Buddy, and Santa has to come clean. Buddy finds out that he's not an elf, but an unbeknownst product of a college relationship his human biological dad had with a woman now-deceased. And 20 years later, Buddy's Dad is a very grumpy workaholic executive in New York City who is on Santa's "Naughty List." Buddy decides to go to New York to find his father and be the "World's Greatest Son," but what he doesn't realize is that his father is married with young son. More important, none believe in Santa nor the spirit of Christmas. This becomes Buddy's mission.

Despite Will Ferrell's absence from the stage version, elf the Musical does have a little star power: Santa is played by the appropriately jolly George Wendt of Cheers fame, and it's hard not to fall in love with Sebastian Arcelus' Buddy the Elf. Santa gives Buddy the following advice before he embarks on his trip from the North Pole to New York City which is basically, "Many pizza places in NYC claim to be Ray's Original pizza; but there's only one original, and it's on 6th Avenue between 11th and 12th Streets..."

The rest of the cast is delightful, all sing and dance their way through Buddy's story well and with humor that the adults find funny without offending the tykes and the music is festive enough to get a Grinch like myself in the holiday mood. "The Story of Buddy the Elf," for example, is one remarkablly peppy tune in which a toddler couldn't help himself from singing the chorus during the quiet scene following its introduction). But what most impressed me about the show was the incredible set design by David Rockwell and beautiful costumes by Gregg Barnes. The towering, grey, realistic art deco office buildings reminded me of my view of downtown Manhattan. Buddy stands out in Jolly the Green Giant green, and when he's with New Yorkers, they're dressed in earthtones. It was the cheerful, gorgeous, jewel toned, beaufully handcrafted elf costumes that made the show for me; they popped against the backdrops, and I was actually mesmerized by them.

New York is a Christmas kind of town, and at this time of year, it's the best place to get into the holiday spirit. I attended a matinee of elf where many seats were occupied by families with children. Well-behaved, children, I might add, because elf held their attention. Now that I'm a mother, I thought about bringing my son to a show like this when he's older. Unlike Radio City's Christmas Spectacular, which is a Manhattan institiution, definitely, but in my opinion, a little long for a little kid, elf the Musical is a pint-sized perfection.

Friday, November 12, 2010

No, You Can't Have It All

So while you're enjoying some things and missing out on others, why not paint a pumpkin to look exactly* like your baby?

John, NYC ~ November 11, 2010

*Okay, maybe not exactly like your baby (I didn't get the ears right) 

Thursday, November 11, 2010


I missed you so!

Remember me?

I don't either!

If you told me five years ago (heck, two years ago) that I'd be up to my elbows making sweetpotato/broccoli/beet/pear puree for my son instead of ordering another round at a local happy hour, I'd assume you were either crazy or talking to the person next to me.

But lo and behold, this is what I do now. Isn't that interesting? I wish I had more time to tell you about all the interesting things! The hiccup in the XYZ firewall has allowed me to tell you this latest interesting thing. Let's hope the hiccup lasts awhile.


Wednesday, October 27, 2010

(You) Don't Come Close

Don't Come Close by The Ramones
on Top of the Pops, September, 1978

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Time Out!

Has Two Can Anne been on a time out or what? What did we do wrong? Paint the white sofa with our own feces? Come on! One month is far too long to go without posting! And for that I am very sorry. Mommyhood plus a brand new intolerant firewall at XYZ Company has made it nearly impossible for me to update you daily let alone weekly. Toss in an arthritic right thumb (Blackberry Thumb) and it's game over. That delightful side-effect of old ladyhood cropped up this summer and man, I'm in so much pain I can hardly type (spacebar? ouch!) let alone change John's diaper. We all know which activity wins in the end. Have you met my new best friend, Ibuprofen? We've been dating on and off for awhile, but here's a secret: we're about to get very serious with each other.  Seriously! Right after my visit to CVS in the morning. Heh. And you thought I was single.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Shades of Boog

John's been in day care for approximately three weeks now, and I can honestly say that he's thriving.

Incidentally, so is his mucous production.

It's no surprise he's sick, really. All the babies sit in their exersaucers and chew on the toys, and then they're rotated around the room and inevitably chew on the toy that the last baby chewed on. So basically, John ate a bunch of "Adam's" boogers last week and now they've set up shop in John's nose. I wondered why the teachers neglected to wipe Adam's mucous off of his face until John got a case of them; the sludge is nearly impossible to keep up with. That's where the Booger Bulb comes in. John hates it. He struggles to get away from the Booger Bulb by thrashing his head from side to side, and before you know it, he's got snot all over his grill. Ah, well. We're building up that immune system, with rounds of shots at the pediatrician and 5 days a week in a room with other kids.

Speaking of other kids, RW was promoted to the 1-2 year old room, so he's not disrupting the baby room anymore with his crying jags. One of the teachers told me that they know it's time to "promote" an 11 month old child when he starts acting like a "baby;" they regress when they're bored and need more stimulation from older peers. He must be doing okay; I can't seem to hear him through the wall.

Maybe the walls are thick.

Like John's nose sludge. He remains adorable despite the runny nose, just in case you were wondering. I can't say the same for myself or JD when we catch whatever John has, which is a given. Booger Bulbs all around, folks; what a great gift idea! Stick one in a loved one's stocking this Christmas. They'll love you for it, I'm sure.

Fall Farts Review

Friday, September 17, 2010

Everybody's Doing It

Keep Fit: A Series of 50 Exercises for Men

-Cigarette Cards, circa 1919-


Body by TV

This morning I completed the 15 minute on-demand video

6 Pack Ab Burn

Needless to say, I was bummed to see that this was the edition du jour. Anything with "Ab" or "Burn" is bound to suck. Which, it did, pretty much.

Pros: I suppose if you just had a baby, you'd want to concentrate on where baby took up the most real estate, no matter how much it blows.

Cons: The woman was annoying. I also disliked her orange spray tan, which was distracting. Yet it did have the benefit of also distracting me from the fatigue of the exercises, as I wondered when this orange trend will go out of style. Not soon enough.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Body by TV

Baby John is officially six months old! He's a robust little guy, and hauling him around is no easy feat for someone with chicken arms like mine. Over these six short/long months, I've tossed 90% of the maternity clothing out of my closet, and just managed to shimmy into a pair of non-maternity jeans. They are not my skinniest jeans, mind you, but I repeat, THEY ARE NOT MATERNITY JEANS. Man. No matter what your size, are jeans are loaded with angst for a broad, or what? They might be comfortable but they might make your can look really big. Or, they make your can look really small but they ride up your crack. Whatever. It's annoying.

Anyway, I digress. Having a baby does really wreak havoc on your body; I was surprised just how much. But then again, I'm surprised how much I was surprised. Hello, I made a person, he lived in me for the better part of a year, and that process is going to alter my physique. Now that I've come to terms with that, I've officially decided that I am physically-- and more important-- mentally ready to wean myself off of Spanx and get into shape. The issue? Time. Money. The Usual. Thus, my latest challenge and promise to myself:

The videos are all somewhere between 7-30 minutes long, and they run the gamut: meditation to kick boxing and everything in between. Since I'm just starting out, and I don't really care what I'm doing as long as I'm doing something, I've decided to choose the exercises in the same way a professional, calculating fitness trainer would: Alphabetically. That should keep it interesting.

This morning, I completed "10 Minute Buns and Thighs." It was fine. One could argue that a title with "buns and thighs" in it could make someone hungry for lunch and/or sexy time rather than exercise, but I had a cup of coffee beforehand and craved neither.

10 Minute Buns and Thighs
Pros: It's only 10 minutes and there's a visible counter that runs in the corner beginning at 10 minutes
Cons: She busts a move right out of the gate, and I wasn't sure I was ready to move that fast that early, but I caught up. See Pros.

Poverty Loves Company

The Census Bureau reported today that the poverty rate in the United States climbed to 14.3% in 2009 (the highest it's been since 1994) and that women continue to earn significantly less than men.

"NO SHIT!" replied the woman eating a bowl of radishes for lunch at her desk.

Mmmm. Radishes! They taste like broke. Spicy broke.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Top Ten Reasons Why My Retainer is in My Junk Drawer

10). It might fit one day

9). It's in such an adorable round bright baby blue vintage case

8). Mom said never to lose it because it was expensive, and one time after we had our ritual post-shopping lunch at Jordan Marsh I lost it (having taken it out and put it in a napkin so that I could eat; not wise, in retrospect), full-on panicked, FREAKED OUT, got it back, and swore to Mom, Dad, God, Santa and myself that I'd never lose it again

7). It's there to scare away other retainers from coming into the junk drawer

6). It has my name on it

5). It was expensive, remember?

4). It's a great conversation piece

3). It's a roof-of-my mouth-shaped metaphor for my fear of growing up

2). I like to take it out and touch it sometimes (not true)

1). Helloooo, I'm a HOARDER

I wrote this piece on Saturday, September 11, the day I cleaned out the junk drawer. 9/11 is always generally sad for New Yorkers, but this year, 9 years later, it was especially sad for me. I'm not sure why. I see Ground Zero out my office building window and am reminded of it 5 days a week, you'd think I'd be a little impervious to it now. But the weather was almost exactly the same; a sunny day and not one cloud in the blue sky. Anyhow, I think it's time to memorialize the retainer with a photo and a proper burial (most likely in a garbage can). It's either that or I make it into an intriguing piece of jewelry that grosses everyone out who gets a closer look. Still undecided. Either way, it's being evicted from the junk drawer. It hasn't paid rent since 1981.

Vintage Sticker of the Day

From my early 1980's sticker collection. It's worth hundreds*.

*of pennies.

Thursday, September 09, 2010

It's Over, Bowl

Dear Bowl,

You were vintage and cool. I got you for a quarter at a yard sale in Olean, New York, in the 1980's and we had a very long thing together, travelling from place to place until we got here. But recently, seemingly out of nowhere, you developed a crack in your side. Or maybe it was always there, it just got more pronounced with time. And I didn't want to toss you out because you still held water, you were beautiful, and I am cheap. But tonight, after making roasted root vegetables with the produce I got at the Union Square Greenmarket, I washed you/dried you /stacked you between two dishes that you couldn't handle, and you crapped yourself for good, and a large piece of you fractured off and fell onto the floor. I'm sad, but I realize that you needed to break up with me. What's wrong with me, keeping a broken bowl around? For some reason, I just couldn't break up with you. I guess I loved you too much, damage and all. It's fine, just a part of life. No bigs. We'll be facebook friends! One day. Promise.

Goodbye, bowl! Enjoy the landfill. Make it nice!



Wednesday, September 08, 2010

I Am This Many Fingers Old

I just Googled "idk" because "idk" what it meant.

How Norwegian Are These Cookies?

Norwegian Kringle

2 Cups sour cream (use think cream which has been soured, not commercial sour cream)

1 Cup sour milk

2 Cups sugar

1 teaspoon salt

4 to 5 Cups of flour to make a soft dough

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Mix first 4 ingredients, then add flour, a cup at a time. Take a generous tablespoon in fingers and roll like a rope and shape into figure eights. Bake 400 degrees

Recipe from

"Cookies for youthful appetites"
Unibook Series
Copyright 1982 - G & R Publishing
Printed in USA

Christmas 1991
To: Anne
From: Kyle
Favorite Recipes: (blank)

Thursday, September 02, 2010

Surprise: Neither John Nor I Cried But Someone Else Did!

The last thing I did before we left the house yesterday morning was tuck a tissue in my purse just in case I started sobbing. Oh, and get the baby bottle out of the refrigerator (thankfully JD reminded me in the elevator that we'd need to bring a vessel to feed our child at his daycare center). Can you imagine? First-time parents bringing their baby to his first day of daycare with no food? Embarrassing. I'm sure it's happened before. I'm sure there's not a whole lot they haven't seen before.

Of course, John's first day would take place on one of the hottest, blazing days of the summer, making our walk downtown fun for all, as at 9:30 in the morning it was already close to 90 degrees. At JD's insistence, we stopped into a Banana Republic to break it up with a cool blast of AC in the name of "Just shopping for Fall clothes," which is how JD replied when asked if we needed any help. Yeah. Like we can afford clothes for ourselves let alone togs from Banana Republic. Please. Get a life.

John fell asleep in his stroller on the block of the daycare center, just as we were about to roll into the front door. Once you open the door you're sort of smacked in the face with a light scent of pee pee. Though the center is reputable, tidy, and clean--as clean as a place full of slimy, drooling, sticky children can be--it's tough to erase the smell of dozens of dirty diapers no matter where they're contained. Lord knows that at home, if we've got one too many "dipes" in the Genie you can't escape it. The good news is that once you're inside the joint for a few minutes, you don't smell it anymore. It's human nature's way of helping you cope, I suppose. Visit any nursing home, and you get the drift.

Anyhow, once we unhooked John from his stroller and he woke up, we met with the Director and the teachers, all of whom were very friendly and eager to meet John. He was in a smiley and curious mood as he joined a group of already assembled babies ranging in age from 4-11 months, the majority bouncing in their little colorful saucers as others were crawling around on the play mat amongst the toys and books. Almost all seven babes were grinning and content. Two immediately crawled up to John to make friends once he was settled in his saucer and playing with the doo-dads on the side of it. Since John was handling the transition so well, I didn't feel the need to weep, only beam with pride (mixed with a little trepidation). One baby (a newbie) however, was crying. And another newbie, a big 11 mos old fella just "rescued" from his crib by one of the teachers, was screaming bloody murder as he was being consoled. No luck: completely inconsolable. JD called him later-- affectionately, of course--the Resident Wimp (RW). And not so affectionately, other words which rhyme with "little witch" and "foo-see.

Unfortunately for RW (and everyone else in the baby room and within ear shot of the baby room), he'd been with Mom and Dad soley for his entire life before being flung into the "real world" and was clearly not handling the separation well, which is heartbreaking, for sure. Apparently RW had been wailing non-stop since his first day (the day before) causing one of the teachers, "Barbara," to jest that she almost resigned because of his inability to chill out. As I tried to have a conversation with the teachers, filling them in on John's routine and asking questions about their schedule for the children, I wonder how much Barbara was actually joking. I'm sure constant screaming is detrimental to everyone's demeanor, crying in babies can be contagious, afterall. Barbara also told me that it'd be easy for me to remember her name because she's not named after a flower like the other two teachers, but I think I'll remember it because she's the only one with a beard. B is for beard.

We picked up the baby from "skool" two hours later after killing some time at Dunkin Donuts just as the group's afternoon nap started, because it's suggested we "phase him in" instead of dumping him all day for his first day, which made complete sense and causes me wonder if RW had a proper phase-in. Barbara said John did well as she carried him out to us, but that he had a tough time sleeping because of RW's howling. This isn't surprising, as I have a difficult enough time getting the baby to nap at home in the relative peace and quiet of Midtown. Today John had a longer day and JD didn't collect him until after naptime ended. I don't have all the details yet, but a few words via text message have it that John had another banner time despite the fact there was "no improvement" in RW's disposition.

RW's got to get his act together. He's throwin' off everyone's mojo.

My Parents Were Awesome (Yours Were Too)

The other eve on the NBC Nightly News, Brian Williams mentioned a statistic that old people enjoy reading bad news about young people in the media versus good news because it makes them feel good about themselves and boosts their self-esteem. And young people? It turns out they're not interested in reading any news--good or bad-- about old people. Which sounds about right. Youth sells.

In that vein, my hilarious, precious pal (and Mortified alum) Eliot Glazer came up with a delightful concept and created an amazing website and new book (in stores April 2011; available for pre-order on Amazon now.) called My Parents Were Awesome: "Before the fanny packs and Andrea Bocelli concerts, your parents (and grandparents) were once free-wheeling, fashion-forward, and super awesome."

Hard to believe, but true. Now that I'm a parent, I'm aware more than ever that I'll never look younger than I do today (barring any plastic surgery down the line) and I'll most likely not be any "cooler" (clearly I'm already uncool if I'm watching network television's 6:30 p.m. newscast). If I'm lucky to live until I'm old, I'll end up looking like everyone's Mom eventually does, it's how life works. Here's a pic of Brian and Mary on My Parents Were Awesome , submitted by Katrisse:

Brian and Mary (formerly awesome) submitted by Katrisse

Do you have pictures of your parents when they were awesome? I know I do! Send 'em in to with your name and the name of those pictured (or submit directly through Tumblr).

And kudos to you, Eliot! I love it!

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

I Thought the Cocaine Was Gum

John and his Cow ~ Park Slope, Brooklyn ~ August 27, 2010

Tomorrow is a big day for this Mommy, because it's Baby John's first day of daycare! Or "skool" as I like to call it. Let's hope they teach him lots of important things, like his A-B-Cs, 1, 2, 3s, and the difference between cocaine and gum. It could be a very costly mistake for him down the line. (Pun intended). Kidding! We're not letting him anywhere near gum.

Anyhow, even though John's not going to be in skool for the entire day on his first day, I'm warning you and everyone right now: I'm going to cry. I think. If I don't cry, then okay, fine, but if I do cry, you can't say I didn't warn you. I don't think John will get upset; he likes new people and new experiences for the most part, and he seems to roll with the punches. JD says that he didn't cry when his Mom dropped him off on his first day of school; he cried when she picked him up! Similarly, I think John will embrace it and be completely fine without us for a few hours.

On the other hand, how well I'll be holding up is another story. Do they have daycare providers for mothers who can't handle being away from their babies? Yes, and they're called psychiatrists. OMG am I tearing up already? I need to get it together!

Man, I Could Really Go for a Tasteless Chill Tonic Right Now

Grove's Tasteless Chill Tonic ~ invented by Edwin Wiley Grove

Step Right Up!

Oh, Phuket!

"Photo courtesy of Nancy Wiegand. Sign found in Phuket, Thailand."

Monday, August 30, 2010

400 Years Later Some Things Never Change

"Infant in a baby chair, Netherlands, 17th century."

" John in a Bumbo Seat, NYC~ 8/24/2010 ~ 21st century"

Don't Broil Your Babies!

"But use Mr. Punch's patent nursemaid's bonnet-screen. Warranted to keep children from the sun in any climate."
(Simultaneously will keep your nursemaid from getting laid.)

When in Doubt, Throw it Out

I have nightmares about being swallowed alive. Not by a sink hole, or Godzilla, but by my stuff. Despite the fact (or maybe because) we New Yorkers live in smaller spaces and are forced to pare down our possessions to a degree. I did a big toss-out with a bunch of friends before John arrived, but once he got here, so did more things. He has clothing, blankets, diapers, a Diaper Genie, a Pack 'n' Play, an exersaucer, a jumper, another kind of bouncy exerciser thing, a Kick 'n' Play chair, a swing, a playmat gym, a car seat, a Bumbo seat, a clip-on high chair, and a stroller. The other night I had one of my recurring dreams that I discovered a tucked away space in my apartment, another room I had managed never to notice before, in which I could conveniently store some of these items. Like I said, it was a dream.

Anyhow, you know you have too much crap if your wife dies underneath a pile of junk, her decomposing body going unnoticed for four months, and you think she ran away. But maybe at that point it's too late to know you had much crap. Either way, now you know, I guess.

Feng shui philsophy says a good place to start is with 9 things a day. You don't have to go big or go home; if you have a dozen empty beer cans in your bed, just throw away nine. It'll get easier from there. So I'll toss 9 things tonight if you do...

Friday, August 27, 2010

My Kind of Town, (Chicago Is) - Frank Sinatra Live in London 1971

I'm posting this video because Greenberg is leaving NYC and moving to Chicago in a few weeks. Since he shared the news, I've made sure make sure to tell him every single day that he's making the "biggest mistake of his life." Not because he won't thrive there, but because I'll miss him. Chicago is a great town. It's just that it's not that close to a coast, you know? You're landlocked. No ocean horizon to gaze upon or beach in which to do cartwheels. And that could be weird full-time. I mean, what if there's some sort of catastrophe and you need to escape into open waters? I don't know. Other than that, I think it's a great town.

Anyhow, I'm also posting this because it's strange. Frank's hair, in particular, is strange. Talk about a terrible toupee. Didn't this guy have a friends and family? Of course he did, he was a popular dude. The Friends and Family Program is supposed to be honest with you when you wear or do stupid shit, and this hairpiece is ridiculous! Is it a case of the Emperor's New Clothes? Perhaps. In 1971, Sinatra still remembered the words to the songs, hit the notes, and was still nailing broads ad nauseam. At this time, I think he was smooching a very young Mia Farrow, if I remember correctly. You can tell he's still "got it" with his cheeky performance. Did she pretend not to notice the ferocious wig? Even though they were rocking an almost identical Rosemary's Baby 'do? Apparently.

Tuna Salad Recipe of the Day

While Baby John munches on his bottles of formula and ventures into the lands of barley cereal, green beans, sweet potatoes and hard boiled egg yolks, his folks need something more substantial to eat. This tuna salad recipe is high in flavor, Mommy-friendly (ie: quick and easy), and relatively low budget/ calorie. Mega summery and tasty. Enjoy! Note: Must love radishes.

Tuna Salad With Celery and Radishes from Real Simple Magazine. Photo by Jens Mortensen.


2 5-ounce cans tuna in water, drained
8 small radishes, cut into thin wedges
2 stalks celery, sliced
1/4 cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon olive oil
kosher salt and black pepper
crackers, for serving


In a bowl, combine tuna, radishes, celery, parsley, lemon juice, olive oil, and kosher salt and black pepper. Refrigerate in a container for up to 1 day. Serve with crackers.

Nutritional Information
Per Serving
Calories 399
Fat 18g
Sat Fat 3g
Cholesterol 44mg

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Where Have I Been?


Green Bean Town. Mommywood, USA

John, NYC ~ August 23, 2010

Friday, August 20, 2010

Don' Do Dat

This afternoon, I found a piece of Christmas candy and ate it. That's right, folks---I ingested a piece of chocolate older than my son. I may die.

August is Dwindling--Got Plans?

Sunset Magazine circa 1890's
"The West's Great National Magazine"

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Mad Men Recaps by Michelle Collins

It's Mad Men Season, which means that Sundays are less depressing for me because I've got the new episode to look forward to every week (that is, if I manage to keep my eyes open long enough to make it to 10 o'clock. New Anne, new hours, thanks to Baby John.) Then I can't wait to read Michelle Collins' recap of Mad Men. She's tall, gorgeous, and friendly and that doesn't happen very often. The only other tall, gorgeous and friendly broad I suspect could be Heidi Klum, but I don't know her. Anyhow, Michelle has a very funny brain and Heidi only has a very funny accent. Big fan of that Michelle, I am.

Now I've turned into Yoda (short, ugly, and friendly).

Without further ado about Yoda and such, if you're caught up on last week's episode, you may now please enjoy:

Finally, The Episode Where We Get to See Don Draper Naked by Michelle Collins for Vh1's Best Week Ever.


John, VT ~ August 14, 2010

Hoarder Decision Process

The Ambien Walrus Says

Tuesday, August 17, 2010


Fraternity Brothers, written by Yannis Pappas
"Three fraternity brothers reunite after ten years. A Ditch Film written by Yannis Pappas directed by Jesse Scaturro starring Louie Katz Ali Wong Rory Scovel & Yannis Pappas"

We're Back in the Adorable Picture Business Again

John, NYC ~ August 11, 2010
Sitting in his Bumbo Chair and gnawing on Sophie the Giraffe

Thursday, August 12, 2010

I'd Post an Adorable Picture Here But

My camera (a Canon PowerShot SD880 IS Digital Elph) crapped out again. Well, let me explain. First it was awesome, then flash started popping and smoking just like one of those old square flashbulbs that you'd put on your Dad's Polaroid camera. Then it was too late to return it, so I just took photos without flash unless absolutely necessary and then with good warning to all involved. Then the camera crapped out a few weeks ago. Now, when I say "crapped out," it still takes photos, but I can't get them off the camera without removing the disk and putting it directly into a printer (or new camera) because of a "communication error." Who doesn't communicate with errors from time to time, eh? Then suddenly a week later or so it started downloading pictures and uncrapped itself. But last night it crapped itself again and still today I get a "communication error" message when I try to download photos. On the upside, the flash still smokes, which makes using the camera sort of fun still and dangerous.

New camera: Still on the list of things that I'm sure once I own will make me deliriously happy and satisfied in life.

In the meantime, I will continue to take pictures with El Smoking Cam Cam that may or may not be seen by the public. Stay tuned.


"Communication error" problem fixed! I did some research on the internets and found some advice someone had given another someone about the same problem, stating that storing over 1,000 photos on a memory card will prevent the photos from being uploaded via the camera onto a computer. So I deleted about 500 old pictures and you know what? We're back in business! (The flash still smokes. No idea what to do about that other avoiding taking flash pictures to close to the subject or spraying your hairdo with AquaNet at the same time)

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

For the Very First Time

Doodle and John, NYC ~ March 2010

Doodle came up to me and John on the sofa yesterday meowing for a little TLC, and John reached out to pet her. She wasn't alarmed, she just walked around in a few circles as she's prone to do, and his hand touched her back. As she moved, his hand smoothed over the length of her back and he ended up with a meathook full of fur. She could stand to be brushed, it's hot here these days. I think they'll be fast friends. Until, that is, he pulls her tail, which is bound to happen. I'll keep her nails clipped in the meantime.

By the way, it was Doodle's birthday on August 7, which after ten years I had actually forgotten until my mother reminded me. With the baby and all, there was no time for remembering, let alone a Birthday BLOWGANZA like we've had in years past. Coincidentally, when she sent the text, I had just left the pet store with a new catnip toy, some cat grass, and Doodle's favorite food. Though I was shopping to prepare Doodle for another weekend alone in the house, I must have known subconsciously.

Happy Eleventh (64th) Birthday, Doodle! I love you!

When I'm 64
Songwriters: Mccartney, Paul;Lennon, John

When I get older, losing my hair, many years from now
Will you still be sending me a valentine, birthday greetings, bottle of wine?
If I'd been out 'til quarter to three, would you lock the door?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me when I'm sixty-four?

You'll be older too
Ah, and if you say the word, I could stay with you

I could be handy, mending a fuse when your lights have gone
You can knit a sweater by the fireside, Sunday mornings, go for a ride
Doing the garden, digging the weeds, who could ask for more?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me when I'm sixty-four?

Every summer we can rent a cottage
In the Isle of Wight if it's not too dear
We shall scrimp and save
Ah, grandchildren on your knee, Vera, Chuck and Dave

Send me a postcard, drop me a line stating point of view
Indicate precisely what you mean to say, yours sincerely wasting away
Give me your answer, fill in a form, mine forever more
Will you still need me, will you still feed me when I'm sixty-four?

*another coincidence: this is the song my mother sings to John

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Baby Spoon: More Impressive Than the Sweet Potatoes

John, Long Island ~ August 8, 2010
We tried giving John is first official taste of solid food over the weekend with a little sweet potato and Enfamil mash. In my opinion, it tasted metallic and terrible, but that's because of the formula, which tastes metallic and terrible, yet baby can't seem to get enough of the stuff. At least he enjoyed the spoon, which he promptly pushed into the back of his throat to choke himself. Learning is fun!

Friday, August 06, 2010

Life's Tough: Remedies for the Whole Family

For Daddy:

For Mommy:

For Baby:
(Contains morphine. 1 grain (65 mg) morphine per fluid ounce, to be exact)
It should be a good weekend!