An aging lady on the couch with bonbons

Over the course of the past year, my dear mother has taken to repeating, "I can't believe I have a daughter who's almost forty." 

Thanks for the reminder, Mom!

As it turns out, I will only be 39 next week, so really, the 40s death knell seems early, yes? 

I myself don't mind getting older. By and large, age is but a number. That said, a few things clearly suck about approaching mid-life. A second wave of acne is definitely on my list (seriously, what the eff did any woman ever do to deserve zits again?) as is the fact that if I sit cross-legged on the floor for more than 8 minutes, my knees regret it for hours. But the most annoying might very well be the way aging bodies metabolize alcohol. In short, they suck at it.

Wine and the occasional cocktail are integral, happy, celebratory, relaxing aspects of my life. A superbly cooked filet is made even more sublime when enjoyed with a great Cabernet. A fresh crottin of goat cheese sings alongside a crisp Sancerre. A flute of champagne can make even the dullest of events feel festive. And when was the last time you sat outside on a beautiful summer night, enjoying a chilled Rosé, and felt anything but content?

Right.

So it's a cruel twist that as the years go on and you have a bit more time and your kids need a bit less and perhaps you're a bit more established, those sublime nectars start to mess with you. Your sleep is impaired, your stomach may feel like it's been grated, your cognitive abilities suffer, your head feels like it's packed with cotton. Unless you're in Italy and then you can even day-drink again!

I had two glasses of wine last night with my dinner. Two. Tom had a work function, and I cooked myself a lovely, lovely meal, got out my crossword puzzle, poured a vat of water to offset the damn dehydration elements in the wine, and spent a few delightful hours. 

And I woke up this morning and felt like I was on Mars. Hmph. It's very nearly unacceptable. As it's cold and rainy here, I decided that after dropping the boys off at school, I'd come home and take a nap. Just curl up on the couch with Percy and call it a morning. 

Percy, the slug pug. Does he look relaxed, or what?!

This sort of luxury is not something I usually afford myself, but what else could Mars head do? Percy was thrilled, and really, so was I. I awoke at 10:15 to the sound of the mailman delivering some letters and a few packages. Packages are always fun, so I ambled to the door by way of my Soda Stream (because: more water) and found an early birthday present from one of my dearest college friends.

An entire box of See's Nuts & Chews!! These are my faves. I do not, generally speaking, like boxed chocolates. There's too much going on, and that weird puffed, grainy filling that too many of them boast is the pits. Also, the chocolate tends to taste eerily like paraffin wax. No thank you.

But See's Nuts & Chews? Ohmygod. Chocolate, nuts and the minimal amount of caramel or marshmallow needed to hold it all together. I love and do not share these. Thank you, Ames.

In that moment, Mars head decided to stay on the couch with the bonbons and be that woman. I don't know that I've ever actually sat on the couch in the late morning eating candies. (Where did that ridiculous stereotype of stay-at-home mothers come from anyway?) It was delightful, and my friend's timing couldn't have been better.

You can see in the make-up free, un-Photoshopped pic that I do not wake up looking like Miranda Kerr does (if her Instagram feed is showing us regular people the truth). Then again, she is a supermodel, and I am not.

But that right there is an almost-39-year-old who took a nap and ate candy and feels damn happy about having done so.

Maybe the best part of getting older is feeling OK about doing just that. Even if it means suffering minimal-wine after-effects to get there. 

Easter and eggcellent eating

One of the things I most love about this time of year is the extraordinary display of rebirth everywhere. New shoots burst from the garden soil each day, growing rapidly in the sunny warmth. Peonies and astilbe, columbines and hydrangeas, bee balm and bleeding hearts...each year I wait for some and am surprised by others, but always I am thrilled by their responsible perennialism. Hello again, dear friends. Thank you for returning, as you always do.

Indeed the beauty and promise in this cyclical nature of, well, nature, is the way I plan to think about Easter in the future. It is a day of rebirth anyway, so I'll simply embrace and celebrate in a way that resonates with my beliefs. And because bunnies are natural creatures, I see now that the Bunny can fill my boys' baskets each year without conflict. 

Easter cake: strawberry with whipped cream-mascarpone frosting

We spent yesterday with Tom's parents and a cousin who lives in DC too. It was a gorgeous afternoon, and after an egg hunt, we ate a delicious lunch (which included that stunning strawberry cake with whipped cream-mascarpone frosting) and then watched the boys play and fly a kite in the field behind my in-laws house. Jack was initially concerned that he wouldn't be able to get the kite aloft, but soon enough, he'd unspooled the entire 500 feet of string.

When I wasn't smiling upon the pride emanating from his face, I joined the others in looking skyward, our eyes fixated on the simple joy of a colorful kite gliding confidently in the wind. 

Ol and I moseyed over to the playground that abuts the field, and he climbed the rock wall and found "stick treasures" while I sunned on a bench.

using a stick treasure to massage my feet

By the time last night rolled around, we were all so tired it seemed wise just to call it quits and hit the sack. The boys conked out early, T and I watched Going Clear, the recently released documentary about Scientology (oh.mah.gah!) and then, after a light meal, joined the slumber party.

This salad is always lovely but really hit the spot after a big lunch. Y'all try it: watercress, cantaloupe, goat cheese or feta, fresh figs or dried...It's absolutely lovely! 

Kumquats, ricotta, pie and self-care

We have finally graduated from winter. It's so thrilling that I'm very nearly beside myself. Yesterday, the boys and I planted tulips and snapdragons, some herbs and a beautiful pink geranium Ol picked out. Our gardens are writhing with earthworms both robust and newly born, and we found just one grub which was immediately relocated to the garbage. It's taken years to get our yard in good health, but in the absence of chemicals, things thrive, and the proof is out there in every shovel of earth.

People, I want you to go get some kumquats. Gently cut them into thirds and take out the seeds. Candy them in a simmering mixture of sugar and water. 

While you're at the store getting kumquats, pick up some buttermilk, heavy cream and 2% or whole milk if you don't have those items on hand. Buy some cheesecloth too. I want you to make fresh ricotta.

Once you've done that, find a pretty bowl and spoon some ricotta in. Top that with some of your candied kumquats and syrup. Close your eyes, and take your first bite. Chew, taste, swallow, breathe. Shiver with pleasure.

ricotta and candied kumquats

Do this because you love yourself and you're worth this beautiful, decadent treat. Because it will stick to your ribs and fuel you with real and simple food. Because it's a joy to feed yourself thoughtfully and lovingly, to nourish yourself by spending time to make good food and also to eat it.

If you do this and then, like me, feel you must keep going with this whole creation-nourishment thing, make a pie.

Spend time rolling the crust and carefully cutting lattice strips with a pastry wheel. Think back to your childhood when you cut Play Doh with plastic tools, creating something new and of yourself just like you are now. 

sour cherry pie

Feel the butter grease your hands, and watch the flour coat the buttery spots, rendering you a breaded cutlet.  Enjoy it.

If you have some of last summer's bounty in your freezer, use it. It's time. If not, perhaps  you have some fruit lingering in the bowl on your counter, or maybe you picked something wonderful up while you were at the store getting kumquats and ricotta supplies. 

If you have extra pie crust scraps, roll them out and dust them with cinnamon and sugar. When you slide your pie in the oven, put the sweet extras in too; just remember to pull them out before they burn. You'll love this little snack while you're waiting for that pie.

When you remove the pie from the oven, place it carefully on the stovetop or a wire rack to cool. Don't leave it just yet; lean over it, until your nose is almost touching the bubbling filling, and inhale deeply. Hints of vanilla, caramelized fruit, butter and all the supporting elements will tickle your olfactory nerve. You'll feel shot through as if with a rush of endorphins. Bliss.

Let the pie to come to room temperature at least. It's hard to wait but worse to burn your tongue. Plus, you might want to share a slice with a good friend, a neighbor, one of your child's teachers, your spouse. Or maybe not, but either way, you don't want to scald your mouth.

Anticipate the pleasure you'll feel when your fork grabs the first bite of pie, when your hand draws that bite towards your mouth. Remember how wise it is to tend to yourself, treating yourself as you do so many others around you.