It's almost time

People, bedtime cannot - literally, seriously, I mean it - come soon enough. Oliver has been an aggrieved mess all day, and I found myself completely over him about three hours ago. That was precisely 30 minutes after I picked him up from school. Wow, the time flies. Not always in a good way. Because it is a stunningly beautiful day today, with an afternoon that very nearly approached warm, I opened our first bottle of Rosé of the season. Presently, the boys are bathing, and I'm sneaking planks of grassy cheddar and sucking on a generous first-glass pour. Mother of whine. I swear I've got a real thought to make them put themselves to bed. When does that start to happen, anyway? And where is husband for the love?! Probably avoiding bedtime by pretending to work late. Crap, readers, I'm working myself into a hot mess of a frenzy right now.

Tonight I'm planning to grill a pizza and kick it on the deck with a good book. As I have about 85 in various stages of started-but-not-close-to-done, choosing one shouldn't be difficult. Do y'all think it's unreasonable to consider converting our garage into an apartment for which only I have the key? I've decided that the boys are old enough to figure out how to dry themselves off after a bath so am seeing just how long and alongside how much inane arguing it takes for them to use the towel for its stated purpose.

How cool is the reflection of our sugar maple in this glass o' vin?

Happy update, Lillet rosé, bedtime approaches, thanks

Readers, I was THRILLED to hear from my always-informed, beautiful friend, Donna, that the six year old Afghan girl I wrote about yesterday has been released from her repayment marriage because a kindly donor paid her father's debt. No one seems to feel 100% that ultimately the repayment will be honored without her having to marry the random older guy, but we can remain thankful for Samaritans and hopeful that the deal stands. However, the awful realization is that most of these girls don't have articles written about them and don't have generous folks saving them from living hells. Lillet rosé is the greatest aperitif because you pour it, cold, over an ice cube and serve. I mean, it literally could not be simpler to start your evening off right. If you want to put in some effort and go fancy, you can garnish the glass with a slim wedge of ruby grapefruit but that's not necessary.

My dear friend, CF, mother of two precious girls who, nevertheless, fray her nerves because she's with them all the time (C is a wonderful, at-home mom; no, I don't mean that she's wonderful only because she stays at home, I mean that she is a wonderful mom and one who stays at home with her kids) as the boys do mine, both felt beyond frazzled by 3pm today. It was exceedingly fortunate that we parked next to each other at carpool because we laugh-cried hysterically for about ten minutes. It was the best medicine. I know that right now, she is as excited about bedtime approaching as am I. Our kids are real talkers. Mine, for example, did not, ever, stop talking today even when I asked them to and finally exhausted me by playing-singing an extremely loud game-song in the shower called "YOU BUMP YOUR BUTT, YOU BUMP YOUR PENIS." I didn't ask or investigate.

With the greatest, most heartfelt sincerity, I would like to thank all of you, those I know and those I've never met, who wrote to wish Em-i-lis a happy 2nd birthday. Your thoughts were insanely loving and kind, and hearing from you meant the world to me.

Last night's dinner and dance party

Our little celebration last night was such fun. We decided against further cocktails because they are so tricky; you think you're totally fine and then you're not. When your wake-up call won't be late, you really have to consider whether or not post-cocktail fog is feasible and/or worth it. As both kids are still on break, it seemed wise to put away the Applejack and instead move to wine. Good decision. I started this swordfish steak a'poaching and concurrently braised the carrots and fennel. How incredibly plugged in do the carrots look? Wow farmers market, thank you!

When just done, I topped the fish with caper, olive, lemon, parsley confetti, and all that plus the olive bread was great.

Sometime during all that, we realized that Jack was definitely awake. Some story, definitely fabricated, about a nightmare, but feeling festive, I invited him down for a bite of my cake. Fortunately, he did not like it -more for me- so I let him nosh on a few jelly beans and join our dance party. He got out his electric guitar, a harmonica and a blue, plastic, star-shaped clapper and went to town as a one-man band. We rocked to a Pandora playlist built off an "I Love Rock -n- Roll" request, and my primary takeaways are these: if you have Pandora, immediately make this playlist and you will be thrilled(!), and dancing tipsy-like with your 6½ year old can really be a gas.