Spring is here

Monday, May 4, 2015

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Officially, the first day of spring is March 20. I don’t know about you, but a spring that involves snow in the air, wind chills and below freezing temps is no spring to me.

Spring means blossoms. The kind that look like Malcolm Gladwell tree wigs.

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Earthly blooms, bursting with color and pollen.

Long walks outside with shoes that don’t cover my ankles.

The absence of hot chocolate.

Skirts with no tights.

These things rightfully don’t happen in March. Unless there’s a freak warm weather system that gets Chad Myers’ underpants in a twist.

But April. We expect more of you.

Prolonged warm spells, not just pockets of heat.

I’m not offended by a pocket though. The weekend, for instance. Sandwich it between workweeks and the weekend is thrilling. Exhilarating. Titillating? All of those at once.

Imagine this: if every day were a weekend day, where would be the joy in approaching a weekend? Which may be a sensation even better than the weekend itself.

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Family

Into the fog

Monday, January 19, 2015

When I was in my mid-20s, my (then) fiancée, (now) husband & I applied to business school. We applied all around the country, knowing that acceptance rates were low, and hoping for the best: that we’d both get into the same program, and could move to our next city together.

We were lucky, as UC Berkeley just outside of San Francisco, accepted us both. It was off to Northern California, right across the bridge from his hometown of Marin.

Moving from the East Coast to the West Coast is an adjustment. Seasonal weather, leafy trees, and gothic architecture were quickly replaced by fresh crab, lemon trees, salty air and fog. Lots of it.

That’s what stays with me the most. More than the farmer’s markets, the vintage bookstores on Telegraph Avenue, or the classes themselves. Summer fog, winter fog, day-long fog and morning fog. They just don’t manufacture fog the same way on the East coast.

The Inuits have 50 words to describe their snow: “aqilokoq”:“softly falling snow”; “piegnartoq”:“the snow that is good for driving sleds”; I imagine that Northern Californians have a more intimate understanding of fog. Pea soup, black fog, dry fog, killer fog, sea mist, and valley fog; all names of fog, all unidentifiable to me, even after two years of living there.

“How”, I thought as I wandered out of the lake house one morning recently: “would the Northern Californians classify this?”

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Family

No rest for the weary

Monday, March 10, 2014

Can a weekend start poorly when you’re baking Almond Joy brownie bites?

I have scientifically proven that it can.

First my brownies gave me the middle finger when they came out of the oven and broke in half during the pan extraction process. I had to dig out some Hello Kitty polka dot mini cupcake wrappers to save them from the compost heap. Fortunately they were edible.

Lauren, who is nut allergic, wanted to know why on Earth I’d made brownies with nuts in them. After explaining that they were for a dinner party that night, she broke into tears, begging that I make a second nut-free batch of brownies.

So now, instead of enjoying the first 50 degree day of the winter, we were trapped inside like brownie lab rats, testing our dedication to the sport of baking.

And of course, when we make food, I must photograph. Because that’s what this food blog has done to me.

Yes, those would be my feet. I’m either perched on a chair, lying on the ground, or climbing onto my countertops to get my food shots. Maybe I’m doing it wrong. If so, please tell me because I’m spending a lot of time cleaning my countertops.

After baking all morning the kids started to pace like a pack of anxious wolves; they were ready to enjoy some sunshine. Our sunny day didn’t disappoint.

And I was eager to enjoy a little of the great outdoors myself. Forgetting that everyone swarms to the park as soon as we get a glimpse of warm weather, I suited up for our visit in a pair of stretch iridescent snakeskin pants, a yellow sweatshirt, and a wool vest that I bought in 2001. Witnesses will corroborate. Upon seeing friends and acquaintances in their skinny jeans and leather boots, the obvious choice was to run for the hills, which I did under the guise of a dog walk, leaving my husband to look after the kids.

With a quick fist bump to my girl, Jack and I took off.

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Family

Did the weather get dumped?

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

It seemed fitting to write another weather post because February is showing signs of despair and melancholy.

Instead of a weather forecast, I thought I’d do a 7-day recast so that you can reassure me that I’m not, in fact, losing my mind. February is to blame. He’s been playing games and torturing us with his mood swings. When you can’t figure out whether to step outside in a down-filled jacket or in shorts, you know there’s a problem.

Sunday: Snow