Category — Cute W

At dinner, we were laughing about some political remark one of the girls’ classmates made. M tried to explain that this child simply didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Oh, I know,” Cute W said. “Most kids your age don’t really follow politics. They just sort of parrot whatever their parents say.”

“Including you guys,” I put in.

“Well, yes, but I was trying to be diplomatic,” Cute W agreed.

Cute W was right. Insulted, M declared  “I follow politics!”

“No you don’t,” I answered.

“I do, I DO!” she insisted.

“Really? Then name someone Rick Santorum beat last night,” I answered.

She looked at me blankly. Then, determined, she leaped from her seat and rushed over to my computer.

Cute W and I looked at each other, chuckling. Sure, we’d proved our point, but we appreciate her determination to win the argument with a bit of research.

. . . And that’s when I realized. “Oh, my gosh! She’s Googling Santorum!” I yelped.

Cute W ran to her side to intervene before she found something inappropriate.

Our immediate horror, followed swiftly by red-faced, hysterical laughter, almost made both girls die of curiosity. It took us a few minutes to compose ourselves, but then we refused all inquiries and changed the subject to dessert.

FYI, it is now safe to Google Santorum. Apparently his recent success has improved his results. And if you missed why we were in a panic in the first place,  here’s an article with a quick explanation.

Phew!

We’re coming off a whirlwind five days with Grandma & Grandpa, who were visiting from Kansas City. Prior to their visit, I fretted that we had “nothing special” planned, except that we had Cupid’s Cabaret on Sunday, where Cute W and M were performing. I hadn’t realized that our regular routine, when you throw enthusiastic grandparent spectators into the mix, is surprisingly full and exhausting.

On Thursday, they went along to J’s piano lesson, transforming it into a makeshift recital.

On Friday, our whole entourage visited school to volunteer at the library during M’s class in the morning, ran some errands during the day, went to watch J doing gymnastics, and went out for dinner (mmm, Van’s Vietnamese).

On Saturday, we had M’s early-morning soccer game followed by cabaret rehearsals, that cupcake project,  a movie, and another dinner out (mmm, Bangkok Bistro).

On Sunday, it was the cabaret (little J was “better enough” to attend, although we skipped out on church and skating for her) followed by M’s ice-skating lessons, then card games and order-in Mexican (mmm, that Mexicana Grocery place).

On Monday, the kids went to school, but it was library day for J, plus an in-school assembly, so we still had plenty of quality time. Plus, we swung by the district offices to see M’s artwork on display before they headed to the airport.

Predictably, today’s late-afternoon homeworking got a teensy bit ugly, but we got through it.

Now it’s time to get ready for the parties and put the house back together. Part of this cabaret thing that Cute W did involved numerous costume changes. So along with the accumulation that occurs when you’re busy and have house guests, we have things like this just lying around the house:

If you are too young to recognize The Bill, I don’t even want to know. Go watch the Schoolhouse Rock video.  We’ve explained to the girls that when we were kids, you couldn’t just watch anything you wanted whenever you wanted. You had to wait for a specific time, like Saturday morning, for something special, like cartoons. Man, I feel old. Anyway, The Bill was Cute W’s most successful Halloween costume ever (the first time he wore it, I swear it almost killed two young women in Brooklyn, who ran shrieking across Atlantic Avenue to get to him without looking out for cars at all). So he trots it out whenever he possibly can. He even wore it to Capitol Hill once. We were with friends who were completely making fun of him, and then tourists started approaching to ask to take photos with him, so suddenly our friends thought he was cool. And then he was told to leave by security guards because if you’re showing words, then it’s considered a formal protest, and you have to get a special permit. You can imagine what he said to them, can’t you? . . .(wait for it. . . .) “I’m just a bill! I’m only a bill!” They were not amused, and he was escorted off the steps.

But I digress. It was one of the costumes. Another was Elvis, which has led to quite a bit of confusion in our house for the last week. Because here’s the wig lying on the seat next to Cute W’s computer:

We kept thinking that it was Isis, our cat. You can see the resemblance here, with a sample photo of our actual cat, trying to prevent me from folding laundry:

In her defense, it’s very cozy on those freshly-dried clothes. I’d like to curl up with her. In fact, I’m going to go curl up. The weekend’s left me with a pharmaceutical-resistant, splitting headache. Possibly due to exhaustion and excessive eating. Whatever it is, I’m going to lie down.

Before the post, I just wanted to remind everyone that if you’re considering going down to New York City for Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, you should read my post from last year. Anyway. . .

While J was in Disney World, she fell in love. Like many great love stories, it came as a surprise. I never would have predicted that she’d become so enamored with. . .

. . .

A Baby Ewok!

I mean, come on, who even considered that plush baby Ewoks even existed somewhere?

Okay, umm, now I just feel stupid. Because I wrote that last sentence, and then I decided to Google it, and apparently you can go on ebay right now and order up a veritable crapload of baby Ewoks in a variety of colors, styles, and genders.

I stand corrected.

Really, I’ve just never been that interested in Star Wars. I think I saw, oh, I don’t know, maybe the first one growing up, and I was like, whatever. I believe pretty much my entire family had the same reaction, so I’m not sure if it was a nature or nurture issue, but in any case, Star Wars just didn’t rock my world. Grease, on the other hand, made quite an impression (it was also the first movie that I ever watched on a VCR, at my friend Cathy Goldenberg’s house).

After we were married, I tried to be a good sport and learn to appreciate the splendor of Star Wars. Because my husband–in fact, his entire family–loves Star Wars. Very much. I did my best to remain attentive, but my mind would always wander. We sort of gave up. I mustered a bit of enthusiasm years later when Natalie Portman jumped into the mix, but even then. . . eh.

Poor Cute W had screened Star Wars with the girls a while back to a tepid reception. And then. . .

Enter the Baby Ewok.

Of all the choices in all the gift shops in all the many parks of Disney, somehow the Baby Ewok was the one item that J simple Could. Not. Live. Without. We put her off the first time she asked for it, saying that she should wait to consider her options. Days later she was drawing sketches of the elusive Baby Ewok in the hotel room while Grandma planned her quest to obtain her quarry. Finally, J and Baby Ewok were brought together.

J has been lovingly caring for her Baby Ewok ever since.

New babies can shift your whole perspective on the world, can’t they? As a caring adoptive mother, J feels it is important to understand her baby’s birth culture and unique place in the world. That’s right: she arrived home from Disney World yearning to watch Star Wars. Within a week they’d watched Return of the Jedi and The Empire Strikes Back.

Cute W was thrilled. M, less so.

Today J stayed home from school, recovering from a little cold. When I asked her if she’d like to watch a movie, it was an easy choice. She and Baby Ewok wanted to watch The Empire Strikes Back.

I reported her movie choice to Cute W, expecting him to be pleased. His reply?

“She’s watching WITHOUT ME?!?!?!”

We celebrated our anniversary over the weekend with an Anniversary Eve Date, but for the day itself, we didn’t do anything special. Instead, there was quite a bit of puttering, laundering, and organizing.   Ever since my recent triumph with storing the games and DVDs, I’ve been attempting to get different sections of the house under control.

As it turned out, all of that organizing was a particularly appropriate way to spend our anniversary.

I took the girls down to the basement to help sort through boxes that contained a mix of anything I’d deemed memorable over the last few years.  They tore through the collection of greeting cards, birthday cake toppers, and piles of art: endless coloring pages, paper stiff with nursery-school glue, some very original work (including J’s pretzel, which was brown paint with actual salt glued on it: her idea!). My personal favorites are the abstract-looking art that were actually attempted figurative works. If your kids are still teensy, I highly recommend asking them about their art and writing notes on the back.

I didn’t spend much time on nostalgia, too busy trying to keep the girls on task as they sorted into “keep” and “toss” piles. It was only later, when I headed upstairs to re-make our bed, that I reconsidered the whole mess down in the basement.  Each box seemed deluged with pure kid stuff.   But there were also little notes that we’d written to each other, fragments from jobs loved or loathed and almost forgotten, pictures of our friends and their children growing older. Even the stuff that I’d saved to remember the girls as babies were artifacts of our own growing-up as parents together.  J’s photo in her pumpkin costume was taken right after we’d argued over whether to take her trick-or-treating as an infant. The little blue bear has a picture of Cute W with red-rimmed eyes because he was finally allowed to hold M at the NICU.   The story of our children growing up is our family story, as we struggled and cried and stayed awake through the night together.

Just like parenthood can seem to crowd out the love that came first, the artifacts of our romance were half-buried amid the messy jumble of ripped Chuck E. Cheese photos , crumbled macaroni pieces, glitter, and all the detritus of daily parenting life. There was plenty that I happily threw away.  Some stuff had lost its meaning over time, while other pieces foretold the future, if only I’d known. Each object with a story, part of a history together. Suddenly it wasn’t just the princess paintings that seemed imbued with romance.

Alone upstairs later, I put the summertime duvet cover on the bed. A day or two ago I’d pulled off the heavy winter comforter and pulled out the cover, only to find new, large splotches of purple marker. So sad! But after some stain-remover-scrubbing and another wash, the purple was gone and it was fresh and pretty. As I buttoned the cover over the duvet, I chuckled. I always do.  Long ago (12 years, maybe?) I’d complained to Cute W that I wish he didn’t have any opinions about home decorating, because sometimes I just wanted something frivolous and girly. “Like this!” I’d jabbed at a Pottery Barn catalog.

A couple of weeks later, that very duvet cover appeared at our apartment, although it was too expensive. When it arrived I explained that now we’d have to buy a duvet, too. Cute W was surprised and slightly appalled.

I smoothed the duvet over the bed, inspecting it. The purple spots were gone entirely, but there were other stains, faded but lasting. Suddenly all of these objects, tucked away in basement boxes or splayed out in front of me, felt like symbols of our 18 years.

Like the duvet cover. Not as crisp as it once was, with a few stubborn stains.

Still it’s cozy. And beautiful.

So, I felt like slacking off today, post-wise, so I thought that I’d link to a Mother’s Day post I did back when I was doing the CBS 6 blog. But it’s gone. I think they gave up on that venture shortly after I said that I didn’t have time to contribute. . . coincidence?

Luckily, I’ve got a copy of this post (although, alas, not of many others that were there), so I’m popping it in below. I’ve probably linked to it before, so I’m sorry if it’s old news for some of you. There’s a new cutey-patootie photo, though!

As parents, we struggle to tackle all the items on our daily to-do lists while fitting in the snuggles, special moments, and family dinners that create a joyful childhood. These efforts often seem unappreciated or forgotten entirely, but pausing between tasks can yield unexpected gifts.

A couple of years ago, my husband spent Mother’s Day hanging a tree swing in our front yard. I’d been lobbying for this project among the many others that beckoned from every crumbling corner of our old house and lawn. By evening it still wasn’t done, but he was determined. After tucking the girls in bed, we both went out into the dark. Wearing a goofy headlamp, he sprawled high between ladder and tree adjusting ropes while I assisted below. We couldn’t help noticing that our five-year-old had climbed out of bed to spy on us through her front window. We’d glance up at her room and her head would dip down quickly. But it didn’t seem worth pausing to try to enforce bedtime. We were eager to finish for the night: I had laundry to fold, and my husband had a work presentation to prepare.

Finally, the swing was done. We took one look at it and another at our daughter’s moonlit face shining out of the dark, and we called her to come test it out.

Recently, I was out front with my now-eight-year-old big girl. Just as I grabbed her lap for an underdog push, she confided, “You know, I was the first person to ever swing on this swing.” I stopped, holding her, and nodded. She closed her eyes and leaned toward me to recount her story. “I was so excited, and I was in my footy pajamas but it was warm, and it seemed so late because it was really dark. Actually, I remember. It was 9:03.”

The 9:03 detail got me. This was her authentic memory. Intent on my task, the time didn’t occur to me, but someone who had just learned to read a digital clock, up past her bedtime, would remember. Just looking at her, it was clear how special that night had been: parents conspiring to break a rule, the warm springtime, soaring into the leaves and stars. It is just one short scene from my daughter’s childhood, but knowing that she cherishes it, too, was my best Mother’s Day gift ever.

My car was making a noise. Actually, I didn’t really notice it: Cute W did. This is one of the quirks in our relationship. I joke that I grew up in a household where, if something didn’t work exactly right, we just lived with it. And then, if we couldn’t live with it, eventually we’d call a professional. In Cute W’s home, the slightest alteration of normal–say, a hinge with a teensy-weensy squeak, or a  slightly different purr from the refrigerator–means it’s time to drop everything and investigate, and then fix, the problem. So when he mentioned the car noise, I hadn’t noticed at all. And then I thought, well maybe he’s right. By the weekend,  he was swiveling the steering wheel right and left repeatedly as we drove around, kind of like the car equivalent of doctor-it-hurts-when-I-do-this. Until I was saying, stop already! We’re going on Monday! And he repeated that he couldn’t believe–could. not. believe.–that I hadn’t noticed The Noise.

Of course, getting your car fixed is exactly the sort of dreary chore best left for when the kids are in school. Actually, on my own, I take a pleasant walk over to Barnes & Noble and browse guilt-free. Which I foolishly mentioned in front of the girls. If I’d been thinking, I would have just taken the ride home. Because you get a ride of course. Kind of like the one phone call when you’re arrested. I should have just taken the ride home, but instead I mentioned Barnes & Noble–one of the girls’ favorite destinations–and unwittingly committed us to hours wandering the shopping center.

At the bookstore, I consumed an enormous Frappuccino and read 30 pages into the sequel to the Hunger Games, then cursed myself for making these choices, because I can’t handle the caffeine, and I’m too cheap to buy hardback.

On to the pet store, where I found this ridiculous item:

Um, hello? How many of us have managed to successfully complete our human children‘s baby books? I know, I know: this book is clearly for people who don’t have human children. I thought that it was interesting that it includes a spread about being a “show dog” with spaces for special honors received. So even parents of furry children can feel guilty that they’re not making the most of their beloved darlings’ potential!

At Old Navy, we determined that this season’s sundresses look way cuter on the mannequins than on me. Alas.

The girls were delighted to discover the first dandelions of the season. Annoying and mundane for adults, beautiful and exciting for kids, especially J. The first dandelion bouquet of the season is one of the joys of parenthood.

Besides, I think that we were the only people having lunch at Panera with a centerpiece.

Then it was on to sandals shopping. This caused M quite a bit of sorrow, because she wants wants these sandals very badly. But she’s still size 1 or 2, which means girls’ sizes. Over the weekend, she came home from a birthday party reporting that the 9-year-old hostess wears (and I quote!) “a ladies size 8.” She’s so jealous. I tried to explain that, while the poor shoe selection is a hardship for her right now, her poor friend who’s already a size 8 at age 9 has far more shoe-selection woes in her future.  She remains unconvinced. If anyone has seen similar shoes anywhere, I’d love to hear about them.

Finally,  the girls resorted to making their own fun with a game of creep-around-the-stone-Target-pillars while we waited for our ride.

Incidentally, on the ride back to the dealer, both girls agreed that they preferred the dealer’s car to our own. They argued that we should buy a new car. I would, I agreed, except that I just dropped a few hundred dollars to stop our current car from making noises.

All in all, not the most exciting start to a week’s vacation. Hope you all had more fun.

See this bunny? She’s approximately the size of a three-year-old.  My 20-year-old boyfriend, Cute W, carried her through the airport to greet me when I returned to college from spring break with my family. My children have offered me many adorable moments, but for adorable-with-a-side-of-swoon, it’s difficult to beat a blondie with goo-goo eyes and an enormous pink bunny.

Ahem! Where was I? Oh, yes. Here’s what I found for Easter festivities. Please add any others that you hear about in the comments.

Saturday, April 9th

• At Goold Orchard, there’s breakfast with the Easter Bunny from 9 am to noon.  You’re supposed to call for reservations.  $8/adult, $5/kids 5 to 11.  This is on Sunday, too.

Sunday, April 10th

• From 8:30 am until noon, have Breakfast with the Easter Bunny. It’s an all-you-can-eat buffet, and admission is $7/adult, $4 kids 6-10, 5 and under free. Proceeds to go to local charities. For the life of me I can’t remember where this is, and I couldn’t figure it out. Have I mentioned that I’ve been sick? If you know what this event is, please tell me so that I can update it.
• Schauber Stables in Ballston Lake has a free Easter Egg Hunt, with different shifts depending on the participant’s age. A few eggs will contain a free pony ride or riding lesson.
• At Goold Orchard, there’s breakfast with the Easter Bunny from 9 am to noon.  You’re supposed to call for reservations.  $8/adult, $5/kids 5 to 11.  This was on Saturday, too.

Friday, April 15th

• Tumbling Tykes in Latham is having an Easter Party from 3:30-4:15 pm for children under 2, and4:30-5:45 pm and 6:15-7:30 pm for all ages. Easter Bunny, activities, and a snack. $10/non-member.

Saturday, April 16th:

• The Crossings has an Easter Egg Hunt with Mr. & Mrs. Bunny  from 10 am to noon. The Easter Egg Hunt starts promptly at 10 am, and folks who’ve gone say the eggs disappear quickly. Crafts and snacks, too.
• At 10 am, the Annual City of Cohoes Easter Egg Hunt will be held at George Street Park.  The Easter Bunny will be there for photo ops.
• Faddegon’s Nursery has an Easter Egg Hunt from 10 am to 3 pm.  This event isn’t listed on the website, but I called to check in.
• B95 has their Annual Easter Egg Hunt at  Clifton Park Center.  Easter egg hunts run from 11 am to 1 pm, divided by age group, with plenty of other activities as well. A friend who’s been to lots of area events says it’s well-run and one of her favorites.
• From 12-3 pm, Sloppy Kisses in Saratoga Springs will have Easter pictures and a Canine Easter Egg Hunt.
• The Malta Community Center is having an Eggstravaganza Egg Hunt from 10-11 am today, but pre-registration is required (it can be done online) by April 8th. It’s $6/resident, $7/non-resident.

Sunday, April 17th

• Sloppy Kisses will have  a special doggy celebration from 11 am to 2 pm at Clifton Park Center.
• Faddegon’s Nursery has an Open House from 11 am to 4 pm.  There are door prizes, refreshments, and the Easter Bunny.  A friend who tries to go every year says that it’s great and very low-key, and it’s terrific for pictures because of all of the beautiful flowers. This event isn’t listed on the website, but I called to check in.
• The Helderberg Kiwanis Maple Festival runs at the Knox Fire House from 11 am to 3 pm. $8/adult, $5/kids 6-12, kids 5 and under are free. Pancakes, Easter egg hunt at 2 pm, pony rides, and more.
• Jonesville Fire Department (Clifton Park) is holding their annual Easter party from 12:30 to 2 pm. Easter Bunny, light refreshments, and fire truck rides.
• The Saratoga Jaycees are sponsoring an Hop Out Hunger Easter Egg Hunt from 2-4 pm.  Please bring non-perishable food or monetary donation for the local food bank.

Wednesday, April 20th

• At Ten Broeck Mansion, they’ll be making Tie-Dyed Easter Eggs. It’s billed as a family-friendly workshop, although young kids will need help. It’s $10/person, and pre-paid reservations are due by the 18th.

Friday, April 22nd

• In Niskayuna, they’ll have their Easter “Parade” on Friday, April 2nd, at 10 am at the Town Hall.

Saturday, April 23rd

• The Twin Bridges Rotary will have a Breakfast with the Easter Bunny including three hunts, photo ops, and other activities.  It’s from 8:30 am to noon at the Elks Club on McElroy Road, and it’s $6/adult, $3/kids 6-12, kids 5 and under free.
• Joyful Jumpers has a free community Easter Egg Hunt from 10:30-noon.  Please call Cindy to pre-register at 396-7885 by April 16th.
• Afrim’s in Colonie and The Children’s Guide will have an Easter Egg Hunt from 12-2 pm.  $3/child.

The Times Union Your Day Blog has more Easter events, too.

I struck out at dinner again last night.  Lately every main-dish recipe I try seems to be a tragic failure.  This is probably because I keep trying new super-healthy and vegetarian items, because that’s what I’d like us all to be eating.

So, I attempted a Sweet Potato and Lentil Stew.  Part of what made me try it–besides the fact that it contained curry & ginger–was that the Naptime Chef lady said that she was preparing it for her husband while she was away, as if this was a particular item that her husband would appreciate.  Which resonated with me because, generally, when I prepare a vegetarian meal, W is making himself a sandwich within 2 or 3 hours.  So I thought: ah, a husband pleaser!

Well, I was wrong.  First, I should have remembered that if I truly wanted to create a meal especially for W, it would involve a large slab of pork and some Maytag blue cheese.  The man approaches meat with the casual gusto of someone who’s clearly spent exactly zero minutes listening to Alicia Silverstone gush about the whiteness of her eyes.  Second, if I had read more attentively, I would have realized that the blogger was also preparing chocolate chip cookies.  Ohhhhh.

I frequently attempt to mitigate the possible confusion and distress caused by an unfamiliar meal by making some yummy  side.  One of our favorites is to make Johnny Cakes with the Jiffy Corn Muffin Mix muffin recipe and half of a can of creamed corn thrown in.  This is one of my kids’ all-time favorites.  But of course it’s got all kinds of crap thrown in there.   I really do like the idea of just baking bread from scratch instead of buying it, especially now that my fave Pepperidge Farm Nutty Oat bread is no longer available.  Also because, you know, everything’s better if you make it yourself from scratch–better for you, better tasting, blah, blah, blah.   I actually managed to kick the bottled salad dressing habit with my go-to Dijon-Lemon Vinaigrette.   But thus far, the bread situation has eluded me.  Here’s my problem with bread:   I am not a planner.   Day after day, I come up with the notion at 3:30 pm that I’d like to bake some bread, but by then, it’s too late.

This happened again yesterday, so I ended up making some biscuits.  These were greeted with a great deal of enthusiasm, but of course these (totally white-flour) biscuits are best served with a slab of butter and honey.  Thus, you know, completely moving the entire meal from the “win” into the “lose” column for me with my super-healthy-eating goals.

I thought the stew was good.  But, see: this is what happens.  The rest of the family rejects it, and I like it enough so that I can’t throw it away in good conscience, but meanwhile I’m left with, like 10 bowls of something that I’d really only like to eat for three or four bowls. Dang.  So I was sitting there at dinner, musing over which friend or mommy might appreciate some of this stew.  And it occurred to me that if it was vegan, the sunshine committee of my moms’ group might want some for their freezer, because they might have a tough time coming up with meals for the vegan postpartum mommies.  At which point W asked what I was thinking about (just like you want the boy to ask what you’re thinking about, which is why I married him, but in this case I wasn’t thinking about my feelings, alas).

I answered, “I’m trying to remember if this is just vegetarian, or if it’s vegan.”

“It tastes vegan,” he said.  And it wasn’t a compliment.

Friday was just one of those days for me. It started with the morning bike ride, which turned out to be too cold.  Also, how discouraging do you think it is that my 5-year-old questions my ability to find her nursery school? I have a tremendously poor sense of direction (which, if you’ve read the Back Story, you already know).  My daughters, on the other hand, thankfully appear to have inherited their father’s sense of direction.  Which is so miraculous that I believe that you could put a blindfold on him, spin him around, pop him into the trunk of your car, drive in circles, and then take him out, and he would, you know, look up into the sky at high noon, maybe sniff the wind, and cheerfully head for home.  Not that I want you to attempt this.  I’m just saying, I have a great deal of confidence in him.  But now I’m off track.  I was going to say that when I took an unexpected left, J said, “Mommy?  Are you sure that this is the right way?”  and I tried to explain, calmly, that I was going a different route to avoid biking through the busy intersection, but my calm was spoiled, a bit, because my shoelace had come loose and wrapped itself around the bike pedal and I was desperately trying to casually fix this without 1) falling, because of course that’s bad, and 2) stopping, because we were late.  Naturally.

So that was the beginning of the day, which also included me dropping a knife full of peanut butter on the floor and stepping on miscellaneous disgusting debris on my kitchen floor even though I was washing the entire room down on my hands and knees just two days ago.  I also  accidentally dropped my Brita pitcher, cracking it.  It appeared that the crack was merely on the handle, and I was in a hurry, so I refilled it and popped it into the refrigerator, where the entire pitcher slowly leaked out all over the inside of  my fridge, which I didn’t even have a chance to fully mop up because I was running around, getting ready to go away overnight.

But enough moaning.  I am headed down to New Jersey, where we’re gathering at my sister’s to congratulate my nephew on managing to keep himself alive through a tour in Iraq.  Yay.

Conveniently for me, a couple of folks emailed stuff that might be of interest to you, so here’s some Random Stuff for Grown Ups:

• Did you know that the Thacher Nature Center does a Native Plants Sale?  There’s a sale at the Nature Center on Saturday, June 26th, but you can pre-order specific plants and get them earlier if you’d like.  They’ve sent out an order form via their email list, but I bet you could call them to get a copy.  Pre-orders must be received by April 6th.    The nature center folks also asked that anyone interested in the Saturday Planetarium Adventure (mentioned in my last post) please call them asap, because if they don’t hear from enough people, it could be cancelled.
• The Language Learning Institute is having a French Immersion Weekend on March 26th & 27th.  It’s designed for the “Advanced Beginner” and beyond and costs $125.
• Nacre Dance is offering a Master Class on Sunday, March 14th from 2-3 pm.  It’s $15 and it’s designed for intermediate/advanced dancers.  Personally, I can’t imagine too many other things more intimidating than a single master dance class among strangers, but, by golly, if you’ve got the guts, I salute you!

So, it’s my husband’s birthday today.  I managed to score a babysitter, but we still haven’t decided what we’re doing.  Of course, there’s stuff going on. . .

There’s an event called Fat Saturday for the Arts at Revolution Hall in Troy.  There’s also  a Salsa Social at the Troy Masonic Temple tonight.

Proctors is showing both 13 and Spring Awakening.

We might not have the energy for any of these, and no movies are calling out to us.  I’m a little stumped, and frankly, it hasn’t been my most stellar birthday effort so far.

Remember I said that I was ready for bed at about 5 o’clock yesterday?  Well, I hadn’t managed to make a cake yet, and I knew we’d be eating by midday since we have our date, so last night I started the cake after all 3 of them were tucked into bed by 8:30 pm (W was up and out at 4 am one day this week for work).  Anyway, I’m generally a decent cook.  I can make many things that people eat eagerly.  Baking is not my greatest talent.  And, I was sleepy.  So I popped those chocolate cakes in the oven and was washing dishes when I realized that I hadn’t ever set the timer.  So I made my best guess.  Sometimes one’s best. . . just isn’t good enough.  They looked done and I even put a toothpick into the center of one of them–done!  Alas, my entire kitchen is settled into a slant (it’s an old house), so even though the center of the pan was finished, left of center was raw, and I just didn’t notice.  And that pan was the more well-done one.  All of which I didn’t notice until after they’d been cooling on their racks for 15 minutes.  If you’ve ever wondered if you can put your underdone cakes back into the oven later. . . well, it turns out that that doesn’t work.

So today I just heaped a pile of the half-cake-half-batter slop onto a plate, added a ginormous gob of freshly whipped cream, heaped the rest of the cake pieces, and carefully plastered it all over with chocolate buttercream.  M walked in and said, “Hey, that doesn’t look so bad!”  A high compliment, indeed.  I successfully balanced the crumbling pieces and then handed over the spreader for the girls to do finishing touches.  It was not my prettiest cake ever–come to think of it, I’ve made a fabulous princess castle, Elmo cupcakes, and a dog cake, so it’s not like I completely suck–but it still tasted good.

Part of the reason why I didn’t notice my collapsing cooling cakes is that I was working on another birthday project.  On Valentine’s Day I’d tardily come up with a clever plan to get MP3 versions of the songs on W’s very first mix tape for me.  Yes, I’m dating myself–we started going out back when we made mix tapes instead of burning CDs or loading MP3s.  Anyway, W is usually the music-obtainer in our family, so it took me quite a while to even figure out what I was doing, and then the computer got irritated with me and various programs went into passive-aggressive mode and decided that they wouldn’t respond.  And then, to make matters worse, W received emails about my purchases and it totally spoiled the surprise.  So the birthday has been a teensy bit of a bust, I’m afraid.  Anyway, I do still think that it was a good idea-right?  I hadn’t listened to the cassette tape in forever.  I can still remember making one of my sisters listen to Dela and gushing, “You realize that I’m the moon in this scenario!?!”

Anyway, we’re likely to just go for dinner tonight at this rate.  I might be too sleepy for wine, even.

Hope everyone’s enjoying the weekend.