Cool National Geographic Museum exhibit; a wish for the boys

Opening in two days at the National Geographic Museum, Food: Our Global Kitchen, looks like it's going to be a fascinating exhibit. I'm definitely going to get a ticket and go. Check it out!````

Not remotely related to that is a simple wish that my boys always remain as close and connected as they are now. I woke up this morning to the sound of Legos being swooshed around in hard plastic bins. As if they were sorting pebbles from dried beans, their little hands raked through the blocks and beams and tiles and bricks, searching for particular pieces that would enhance their newest creations.

I could just make out their conversation, sweet wisps of both teamwork and loving push-back when one's plan didn't totally mesh with the other's.

"Here, Ollie, you can have this helmet." "Oh, fanks, Jack. That's the one I wanted." "You're welcome. Can we share what you make?" "Sure, Jack." "Butt." "Hah."

I snuck out of bed to peek in on them through Jack's partially-open door. Jack was, as usual, just in his undies while Ol was in PJs, a cotton shorts set covered in stars. Their hair was mussed, and their rapport was so easy and supportive and happy. It is good I didn't plan to go in because there was not a clean spare inch of space on the floor. Lego vomit pains the feet.

I am grateful for their relationship not only because it sucks to mediate sibling fighting but because I worried about this when I didn't have daughters. My sister and I are so close, and I just didn't have experience with boys and their brothers. Of those brothers I did know, not too many were super-close or even called or visited each other. T and his brother get along well but never talk. They call each other on their respective birthdays, and then we see them each summer at the beach. That seems to work well for them, but A) I would be crushed and feel like I was really missing out if I spoke to my sister that infrequently, and B) the complete opposite is what I hope Jack and Ol grow to do.

I see the comfort their connection provides them now. I see the way they look out for and stand up for each other, and it is very dear. This morning, Oliver said that we would need to hide his Wonder Woman costume when friends came over, and Jack said, "Oliver, why? No one will laugh or make fun of you. That would be stupid and mean." Though I wish I could agree completely, and love that Jack so truly believes all that, it would be naive for me to teach them that society is past a point where some would laugh or belittle or judge. Ol is much more attuned to societal norms and nuance than is Jack who continues to be somewhat blissfully clueless and/or unaffected by external expectations. So, I need to help give him a tool kit for how to respond rather than to be completely blindsided. That's a hard one and also not the point of this piece.

Back to their brothership. Of course they bicker and try to get each other's goat. They yell and brawl and all that jazz. But at the end of the day, they mostly just want to hang out together, build with Legos, pee on a tree, dress up and engage in serious pretend play and have Mom keep them fed.

Yo! SNOB

Yesterday

Boy was I bitchtastic yesterday! There is a reason sleep-deprivation and noise are methods of torture. Throw rain and five days straight of wildly chatty kids + no babysitters into the mix, and I was ready to commit myself. I went to bed at 8:30 last night, stayed in bed until 8:30 this morning and feel loads better. Good thing too because we are having long-lost friends over for dinner tonight, and I have really been looking forward to it.

On tap are: a cheese and olive board; a leek confit and Bûcheron tart; the farro salad with beets, candied pecans, feta and chive-sage oil dressing; and a pumpkin cheesecake. It's a vegetarian feast of epic proportion- y'all should have seen T's face when I informed him of this fact. I nearly snorted, so hysterical was my response. I couldn't help it. T was an Atkins disciple before he knew what that was.

SNOB

Because I'm No-nonsense Dawg today, it is time to tell you about two folks who really stood out last week during my regular plane-mate observations. You know I simply adore studying those who are flying with me, a small yet fascinating cross-section of the world at a specific point in time.

I spent the entirety of my flight from DC to Dallas snoozing and half the leg from Dallas to Santa Fe gabbing non-stop with Lili, the Louisiana gal in my writing group. The ground we covered in 45 minutes was truly remarkable. In fact, once in NM with Laura, all Lili and I had shared became evident on a regular basis, and I dare say Laura was repeatedly stunned by the degree and depth. It just served to remind me that if you put two Southerners together in a somewhat-enclosed space, they will know everything about each other seemingly moments later. This fact always knocks the pants of Tom too: "HOW!? did you find all that out in three minutes? And why?"

All of that is a long way to say that I have zero observations from others until my return flights five days later.

Lili and I were on the same plane back to Dallas, and as it was delayed, we had ample time to study our flightmates. Only one really stood out, and this was for many, many reasons.

1. He was "smoking" an unlit cigar like he was some sort of high Prince of Land Puffery. Who does this in an airport? Why?

2. He wore a blazer (nice) with a popped collar sticking up rakishly but in an all-too-purposeful manner. Like, you know he spent a good ten in front of the mirror styling that puppy just so.

3. His glasses, quite possibly prescription-less, were clear red plastic. Chic if they were the only accessory but the cigar and collar in concert with said spectacles made the sum garishly less than its parts.

4. The pièce de résistance, though, were his shoes: black velvet smoking slippers monogrammed in gold. When I first glanced, I could only see one foot and saw SN written in shimmering thread. "Hmm, is his name Sam? That is such a nice name." Just moments later, when I spied the other shoe, I knew I had been sorely mistaken in considering the letters initials: the second shoe was emblazoned with OB.

SNOB, peeps. And not for him to read, but for all of us.

Once on the plane, Lili and I found we didn't have seats next to each other. We asked a sweet woman if she'd be willing to switch, but she said, "No, I've been here since 5am, and my first flight was canceled, and I don't want to sit in the rear of the plane." I understood completely. So, we wished her well and moved back. Not ten minutes later, she moved back to the seat in front of mine.Why? Because SNOB had the seat next to her original one and had subjected her to such pompous pontification in just fifteen minutes that she knew she couldn't stomach the whole ride.

She turned back towards us, smiled with exasperation and disbelief, and said, "Did you see his shoes?"

HAH!

Yesterday's jam, today's pizza, hubs & idioms

Peeps, I miss my husband. He has worked so late so often recently that I've not even seen him until the next morning. I didn't see him the night before I left for New Mexico, obviously didn't see him while I was away, and have only spent 50% of the nights since I've returned sharing equally tired space before tucking in. It's hard on both of us, in different ways and at different times. "Ships in the night" is such an accurate idiom, isn't it? It's like "white on rice" or "you catch more flies with honey." Though I love "to beat sixty" and "it's six and one, half-dozen the other," they really make zero sense unless your intonation and the context are spot-on suggestive. Usually, spot-on suggestive is not my problem, but you see what I'm saying.

In any case, seeing one's spouse for roughly 75 minutes per day is not conducive to feeling terribly connected. Indeed, T often gets up with the boys so that I can have a bit more sleep and time off, so really, we're probably more in the 45 minute/day range right now. No good. I see the security guards at school more than that. And while I really like Officers W, J and M, I did not marry any one of them.

Such is life I guess. "This too shall pass." That one's pretty good unless people are being overly platitudinous with it.

Blahby, blah. The recipe for yesterday's jam, Apple, Pear & Lemon Thyme, is now posted, and tonight I made a hell of a great pizza. I mean like, off-the-hook outstanding. Pizzerias should use this basic recipe.

Ready? A great crust, olive oil, Maldon, a light sprinkle of crushed red pepper, LOTS of torn basil, grilled eggplant Calabrian-style (I bought this, the crust and the fresh mozz at Vace, a favorite local store of mind), Iberico-style cured pork (like prosciutto or speck; I got this award-winning one from EcoFriendly Foods at the Dupont farmers market), grated smoked mozzarella, fresh mozzarella, more basil.

After some time on the grill, I tossed some chopped figs (fresh; actually 1 fig; from my garden; that's all I had.), some of the eggplant's oil and some pimentón- and peperoncino-infused finishing salt. Sososososo good!