The Three Toileteers

One day left of break, and I dare say it's ending just in time. T, the boys and I decided that never again will we stay local; if we have to walk, we will migrate south! It was 27 degrees at one point today, Jack and I have bad colds, I sound like a man, and Jack and Ol are very nearly an enmeshed, old married couple.

They love and fight, snuggle and bicker. They refuse to break up, even momentarily. During the highs, they have conversations like:

"Can I marry Jack?"

"No, he's your brother and that's too closely related."

"Can I live with him and not marry anyone?"

"Sure, if that's what y'all decide."

"Jack, we're not having kids."

"I know. No kids. They're too much work."

Oliver did once say that he wanted to be a stay-at-home dad with no kids. Essentially, he wants a sugar daddy. Terrific. We are raising ambitious titans! At least he is consistently on-message.

During the lows, each blames the other for everything, including the weather.

"You are the meanest brother/bwutha ever."

And then hugs and kisses and WWF-type wrestling and displays of bare butts and putting each other's (clean, thank god) underwear over their heads and faces like Hanna Andersson-designed balaclavas. Watch out, Pussy Riot!

An easily roped-in friend (love this kid)

Our Magna-Tile collection has been repeatedly used to build castles, the floating lands of Pandora (we watched the family-friendly version of Avatar over break, and the kids loved it!) and a shocking array of highly-detailed coffins. Because I don't care to worry about the utter morbidity of this architectural foray, I have decided to simply applaud the incredibly creative designs of their funerary boxes which include hinged doors protecting the bodies and aerodynamic exterior shells should they need to be launched into space.

I mean, maybe these two should just ride off into the forever-roommate sunset together. It could be worse! I am so happy they are the best of pals.

I have been named the third Toileteer, gifted with a Triple-T cape just like the one Jack designed for both him and Ol. Apparently we are super-heroes, and my power is laser pee. Jack's is morning poo (he can build a wall to protect us) and Ol's is toxic farting (his gas can repel). 

It's great I've been included?

Ol received the coolest bat wings for his birthday and has perfected his sleeping bat pose. I find this enormously adorable.

Today we saw Cinderella (the boys and I plus Underwear-head and his sib/mom) which the kids all thought was "OK. Not as good or funny as the original." but which I loved. Seriously, I cried. Fucking fairy tales. 

I took my man-voice to the gym and really threw my trainer for a loop before returning home to make ninja shortbread cookies with the munchkins. House of Cards seems wildly appealing now- all dark salaciousness that also happens to be very real.

Three hours of spring & a hell of a meal

Y'all! I wore shorts OUTSIDE for three hours today. It was bliss, despite the glare from my fish-belly-white legs. I raked, trimmed, did some mulching and uncovered a toad. Maybe he was finishing up his under-leaf winter sleep. 

Jack thought he was awesome. Oliver asked to hold him and though he at first responded, "Ugh, he's mushy on my hand!" came around and cottoned to the little guy too. Jack stroked him gently and he croaked several times before we carefully placed him back under a quilt of wet, decomposing leaves. 

Nearly struck dumb by the beauty of sunlight glowing through a crocus's lavender petals, I told the boys to grab drawing pads and colored pencils and try their hands at memorializing the scene. I put towels down so the damp ground wouldn't soak their bums, and draw they did. I  took art for years as a child and am so happy that my boys love it too.

My cute bugs

Jack's and Oliver's crocus drawings

A dear sitter came, and I cleaned the room of my own (AROMO). It felt so good to work out there for a while, writing uninterrupted in the quiet hum of nature.

And then on to dinner.

This warm salad, my caramelized fennel, leeks and orange, never disappoints. It's such a simple combination of flavors and textures and pairs beautifully with a variety of entrees. 

caramelized fennel, leeks and orange

Tonight, more halibut plus shrimp. T made a quick marinade of red pepper flakes, orange, coriander, olive oil, lemon and salt, and we tossed everything together, pan-roasted it and topped with cilantro. Satisfying.

All the good food in and out, an expression and a story

It is exceedingly chilly here. Stop it winter. You are pushing my buttons and making me tired. My grandmother -Nanny the great for those who don't yet know of her- had two older sisters, one of whom, Aunt Da, used to say of folks who irritated her, "(S)He makes me tired."

This was always my favorite of her expressions because it says so much in so few words. I mean, wouldn't you get me exactly if I said, "Suzanne Somers makes me tired." You would know clearly that I'm not thigh-mastering or wearing a shiny leotard that somehow doesn't go up my bum even though it is SO high-cut. No, you would understand that I am totally over Suzanne Somers and her charlatan claims about pretty much everything.

She makes me tired. So does Kim Kardashian, Kim Kardashian's ass, Ted Cruz and this infernal winter.

What to do in this case? Eat well and ignore Kim, Ted and Cold as best as possible.

Last night, before I awoke at 3am upon hearing Jack enter Oliver's room and wake him up to ask if he wanted to play Legos (to his credit, Oliver said, "NO Jack, go away. I am sleeping!" And then I took J downstairs for a lemonade date and ultimately we fell asleep together in his bed listening to a child's meditation CD which put me out like a light.), I cooked such a good meal.

Despite the utterly sub-par picture, this Aleppo pepper and yogurt chicken with lemons is to.die.for. These are kebabs at their very best.

To go alongside, I made a quinoa salad with apricots, lime, pistachios and mirin. 

Tonight, tired after my early morning escapade with sweet J, Mom and I went on a date to Macon Bistro over in Chevy Chase DC. You might remember my first trip there, last August with Tom. This place is such a great addition to the DC restaurant scene. I just love it. 

And it didn't disappoint this evening. Again, we perched at the bar and of course I started with the biscuits, honey butter and pepper jelly. Mom got the chicken liver mousse which is completely not my bag but does prompt another good story which I simply must, as an aside, share with you now. 

Mom has always loved liver. I, on the other hand, have always found organ meats positively repulsive. Liver is so thin and not a good color. Anyway, when I was about eight, Mom made liver and onions for dinner. She instructed Dad NOT to tell my sister and me what we were to eat.

As the story goes, I looked skeptically at the slab of liver and asked, "What kind of meat is this?" Mom said "Steak!!" with unnatural enthusiasm, and I cut a small bite. After chewing it maybe three times, I said, "Well let me tell you, there is something wrong with this steak!" At that point, Dad said, "IT'S LIVER, IT'S LIVER!" because he doesn't like it either. So we were all saved except for Mom who got to eat as much nasty liver as she wanted.

Tonight's chicken liver mousse was dressed with a liberal garnish of relish (a horrid concoction) and did ruin the mousse for Mom. Otherwise, dinner was great.

Look at my johnny cakes with deviled crab and fried capers!

Check out this spicy kale with fried grits and onions!

Mom's halibut with orange, chiles and greens was marvelous!

And now I am zonko tired and going to bed. Buona notte!