Richmond, biz

People, today felt like four. Ol crawled into our bed at 5:37am, eager for morning snuggle and to chat. I tried to hush him until 6, but as you can imagine, it didn't work terribly well. What a cute little bug he is. Good thing, too! My post-drop off morning commenced with a couple hours at the orthopedist because of nearly two months of a very sore tailbone. I'd nearly convinced my generally-NOT-hypochondriac self that something dreadful was eating away at my coccyx, so eagerly assented to X-rays to prove otherwise. This was all well and good until, during the sit down with the kindly doc who I'd not met before this morning, I asked "What is THAT?" as I scanned one of the images. It was a rather large dark spot and just didn't look right. Immediately, doc replied "kaka," and I literally felt as if I'd die of mortification. Not least because he used the word "kaka." In later relaying this story to one of my best friends, her primary take-away was "Your doctor said KAKA???!!!"

Exactly. I've just recently stopped wincing. Though I am now the "proud" owner of a Tush Cush. Jesus.

I then made more jam, ran errands, packed, cleaned, left little Pokemon-themed surprises and love notes for all my boys (well, no Pokemon for T, and doesn't he love me more for that!) and hauled it out of the house when the sitter arrived in a vain attempt to beat rush hour traffic on 95S. I did not remotely beat it, but still, I like a good road trip so turned on a fabulous playlist and went for it. It is a vastly different experience to be alone in the car and stuck in traffic than with young children in the car while stuck in traffic. No complaints!

Just before 8, I pulled up at The Black Sheep, happy to have waited out the trip for a good dinner as my reward at the end. I ordered green goddess potato salad, the same arugula/fennel/spiced pecan/hibiscus dressing salad I got two weeks ago, a glass of white wine and later, rum-spiked banana pudding with lady fingers. Solid, friends. Extremely solid.

I used to die over the mere thought of eating at a restaurant alone. I cringed for the solo diners I saw, certain they were terribly lonely and there alone only as a last resort so as to avoid another bowl of instant Ramen in their studio apartments. I see now the complete folly in my assumptions because in fact, dining alone needn't be lonely or dreary in the least. It can be extraordinarily lovely in the quiet calm that is time with one's self. And a good magazine makes things all the better. I myself brought along a crossword puzzle in eager anticipation of no one attempting to fill in slots while I wasn't looking. Hah!

One of the clues was: malarkey. Isn't that a wonderful word?!

I'm off to bed, eager for a full day o' symposiuming tomorrow!

Nanny's influence

I stood for a long while at the sink, washing and trimming the flat of strawberries from Sunday's farmers market. In my left hand, between thumb and forefingers, I held one berry at a time. In my right, I gently gripped the handle of a paring knife and sliced the stem end off with a motion running towards my body. My hands worked together in a practiced way, the repetitive motions so unconsciously deft that when I plucked the last berry from the colander, I was surprised. Nanny did it this way, my Mom does too. Tom always gets nervous watching me, especially because he keeps our knives so sharp, but it's the way I learned and the way I like to do it. As I tossed tops into the compost bin and berries into a large Pyrex measuring cup, I thought of Nanny. I miss her. I miss her grace and kindness and generous spirit. I feel sad that all the good she put into the world is now but memories, albeit important ones that still make a difference to many people.

I thought about the folks I encounter who lack this grace, who act with ugliness, entitlement or jealousy and how disappointing it is that there are people like that spreading ill will rather than goodness.

The stuff I learned from Nanny is the stuff that isn't taught but rather, and more powerfully, modeled. I don't know that I'm as kind as Nanny nor, in some ways, as strong. But much of how I try to be in the world -generous, thoughtful, kind, present- comes from her influence, directly and through her daughter, my mom.

I remember once being in the car with Mom, decades ago in Lake Charles, driving down Nelson Road back home from what was then Delchamps grocery store. Nelson is a busy road, and ahead of us on the righthand shoulder, we saw a woman and young child walking, struggling with heavy bags in their arms and the hot Louisiana sun beating down on their necks. Cars whizzed passed them, but Mom, without considering the alternative, pulled over and asked if we could give them a ride home. I can't remember if they agreed; I hope they did but the outcome wasn't what made such an impression on me that day. What seared itself into my conscience was the act itself and the dignity and respect my mother accorded the duo in her gentle offer to help.

Nanny would have done the same thing. She grew up poor as get out, though better off than Papa, my grandfather, but as with so many who never have much materially, she was incredibly generous with what she did possess, things and also kindness. Her sincerity, her tolerance, her patience and willingness to serve as open ear and shoulder to cry on made such an impact on so many people. She and Papa helped others in every way they could, and I grew up hearing those stories and learning from them.

Though I wish I'd developed a thicker skin after all these years, I am still both upset and offended when I witness stingy and and entitled behavior. Both strike me as fairly selfish really; it's one thing to stand up for and take care of oneself, but it's quite another to act dismissively without reason.

I made a bunch of jam with most of the strawberries and will put up a last batch tomorrow to use up the remaining eight cups. (A flat of berries is 20+ cups y'all.) And I thought about how lucky I was to have Nanny in my life for so long and how the best way to honor her is to comport myself like she would have as best I can.

Favas (without the 'nice Chianti'), head's up, etc

Y'all, fava beans are coming, and that makes me really happy. I like how schlumpy most of them look (some are diamonds in the rough, but they're rare) and how furry are their insides that snugly hold the actual beans. I love their hue which is the perfect blend of pea and mint greens. It's the green I'd have put alongside a perfect pale pink if I'd had a daughter and decorated her room. I love how their humble exteriors reveal a fairly high maintenance yet gloriously beany interior. If you'll peel, blanch and peel again, you will be rewarded with an even brighter pea-mint green treasure which you can then enjoy in many a way. Myself, I can't imagine a more delicious use than as a spread for crostini. Sure, sure, sure, as an element in most anything, favas are nice. But in crostini atop which they can star? C'est magnifique!

As I've opined before, 2Amy's, a Neapolitan joint in NW D.C., makes a preposterously wonderful Fava Bean Crostini appetizer. This gem shows itself on the menu entirely too infrequently, so naturally, I had to craft my own version. Mine is close but not the actual Cuban, if you get my drift. Olive oil, mint, pecorino, salt....toasted bread, more olive oil, probably more salt, some lemon. Beautiful. Alluring. So glad they're here.

Now, it's possible I was too relieved that Milo and Otis found each other again to have even thought to mention this yesterday, but I need to give you a head's up about this movie in case you plan to watch it with kids or recommend someone else do so. Both Joyce and Sondra (Milo's cat wife and Otis' pug wife, respectively; Joyce? Sondra?) deliver babies near the end of the film. Long story short, both my kids sat up straight and yelled, "Did THAT JUST COME OUT OF HER BUTT?" People, this is A) Life Cycle 101 and B) if you need it, an easy segue into the "how babies arrive" conversation. All day I've felt I really must mention this element of the movie. So, forewarned is forearmed. Cheers!

I'm getting pretty excited about heading to Richmond on Thursday afternoon. Tomorrow is going to be hella long, and I'm rather dreading it already. Let's hear it for adult activity, like going to a conference, or, better, symposium. Symposium sounds even more adult!