China cabinet, jam!

A once-a-decade job has been successfully completed: cleaning the china cabinet. It took me nearly four hours yesterday to remove everything, dust the shelves, polish tarnished silver, wash stemware, pack away what we never use, but I'm happy to say that our china cabinet is sparkling and well-organized. I then did our coat closet (actually an all-purpose closet since we have a grand total of 1 on our main floor) too, tossing, packing, cleaning, clearing. I just cannot tell you how productive all this made me feel. I've just made a new and wonderful jam and will post the recipe ASAP. In the meantime, feast your eyes on this beauty which was inspired by my rhubarb-cherry-hibiscus crumble.

The boys come home tomorrow

Today has been such a nice day, leisurely in a way only possible when the boys aren't here with me. Truth be told, I mean that in both an opinionless, factual way and also with some sense of wistfulness. When they are here, I am rarely without them for more than six hours, a span of time which always sounds much longer than its passing feels. Unless I'm at jury duty. Or on an airplane with them. In that space, minus the caveats, I must make time to accomplish very real to-dos but also to sit and think and write and recharge, all of which I do best when alone. I think the fact that I crave solitude often surprises those who know or have met me. I'm gregarious, social, extroverted, involved. I've got a lot of energy, and I truly enjoy being around other people. But to really feel restored, I require quiet time by myself.

It doesn't take a genius to recognize that solitude and motherhood don't usually overlap much, and this is the source of my mixed emotions today. The boys have had a marvelous time with my parents and my parents with them. There is a real and mutual love affair among them all, and I feel so, so grateful for that. Weeks like this one negate much of the toll distance could take, and I think it's tremendous that the boys are as close to my parents (1,200 miles away) as they are to Tom's (6 miles away). We are all fortunate and the better for these relationships.

Yet, in the way many folks start to feel some re-entry anxiety on Sunday evenings, the work-week quickly approaching, I too feel a tinge of "oh god, it's almost over" as the twenty-four hour mark approaches. I cannot wait to hug the boys' warm, sweet little bodies, to have their hands in mine, to hear Ol whisper about which princess he loves most at that moment, to be astounded by something clever Jack says; but I would be lying if I said I didn't feel preemptively nostalgic for the slower, quieter pace I've been able to enjoy this past week.

I've tried everything I can think of, have asked for advice six ways to Sunday, but we simply seem to be a family whose tenor is louder and faster and more insistent than I wish. Perhaps this is a function of the boys' youthful ages (all parents of boys hear that the early years are the most difficult because of their activity level and rambunctiousness); perhaps I've set the bar too high for what they can expect of me; perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. It's likely all that and more.

I'm acknowledging my sense of flux in the hopes of now putting it aside and enjoying this beautiful, calm afternoon with no further consideration or sighs. Nutmeg jumped from Ol's bed up to the little windowsill on which sat his potted shamrock and now there's dirt all over the comforter and pillow. I'm going to clean that, read the paper, and start in on dinner for my T: King salmon with dandelion-walnut pesto; roast broccoli; a grain TBD. Buona sera!

Best financier ever, Book of Mormon, home

I refused to get out of bed this morning until T brought home the financiers from...wait, let me get the butter-stained bag... Maison Eric Kayser. Financiers, a cakey concoction usually shaped like a rectangle, can, like any baked good, be dry and totally underwhelming. These financiers were precisely the opposite. I wanted to cry and immediately go buy 82 more. I bow to you, Eric Kayser, and though I have recently sworn off the purchase of new cookbooks, I might make an exception for yours so that I may make the pistachio financiers all the time.

T brought home raspberry and pistachio, and both were wonderful. Financiers are traditionally made from almond flour (or crushed or ground almonds) and brown butter. Kayser's are not rectangular but instead shaped like muffins. Only better. The pistachio was supremely delicious; truly, I was without words. I couldn't possibly eat both so saved the remainder. I've just polished off the rest of the pistachio and will soon dive into la framboise.

Then we packed, checked out, dropped our ludicrous amount of luggage at T's NY office so as to avoid bringing it to Broadway, and then walked north. By a complete stroke of luck, we passed the Hell's Kitchen Flea Market. Wondering if food stalls might be waiting, we headed in. No food but some great stuff. I bought a smooth as butter leather, fleur-de-lis bedecked (tasteful, not bedazzled) passport holder ($3!) made in Florence and in great shape AND the coolest old compact. I can't wait to clean it up and upgrade from the freebie in my cosmetic bag. The original powder compartment and door still function perfectly, the mirror is excellent, and the cover is engraved with a few fleurs. It feels very Mad Men goes to the Continent. Too cool, too cool.

It seemed prudent to get to the theater on time so we made a quick pit stop at Turco for that ˄ falafel sandwich and to the Eugene O'Neill as the doors opened.

Here are my bottom lines re: Book of Mormon: parts of were priceless; overall it wasn't as crass as I expected; it was much less offensive that I had prepared (hoped?) for; the first half was slightly underwhelming; the physicality required for many of the roles was overwhelming; 85% of the cast was terrific; it wasn't the best show I've ever seen; we were in the second row, center orchestra, and the girls in front of us won their seats for $32 in the Book of Mormon lottery. We paid a lot more than $32. Hmm.

This is where expectations can damn what their referencing. If I'd never heard how outrageously offensive the show was, I think I'd have been more delightfully offended. If I hadn't heard I would literally pee in my pants laughing, I might have. But this is why I never read movie reviews until after the fact now; if you go in with others' expectations, it's hard to have a pure experience. You know?

All in all, a superb weekend. We just dined on fresh bread, tomatoes and cheese from our stash and should be home in a few. I'm starting to miss my little ones. Tuesday!