NYC part deux

 The Big Yam cruising around in his bonny togs

 Day 2 we ended up at the Manhattan Children's Museum, where the admission price for adults and all children over the age of 12 months is $11 (why a children's museum would create uniform pricing for adults and children is beyond me.)  It's basically a giant indoor playground with different learning areas, sand and water play, and some cheesy "exhibits" that are of questionable ethnic integrity and intent.

 Holla!  We hit up Doughnut Plant for the most delicious doughnuts I've ever had in my life.  I tried one of each kind - cake and yeasted.  The Tres Leches cake doughnut was out of this world but the yeasted doughnut was even better, if that's even possible.  It was light, airy, and filled with the most luscious, essence-of-coconut cream filling I had ever tasted.  Bomb!

The evening of Day 2 is the night we went to Brooklyn to eat at Betto and to visit with my chef friends S (who's the chef there), and A (who is a sous chef at Lincoln) and the Dotytron's buddy A and his gf, C.  It was a lovely, lovely dinner that stretched long into the evening.

 Day 3 we started by taking a walk on the High Line, which is an elevated train track that was converted into a park.  I can't even describe how lovely this was in the spring.  It's such a phenomenal idea and a smart and savvy use of space.  The Big Yam LOVED it.  He had been wanting to be outside the whole trip so the fact that he could run up and down and zip around was positively THRILLING for him.  I can't say enough good things about it.  Definitely a not-miss attraction.

 We saw this sculpture by artist Susan Sze, who I just learned is the wife of Siddharta Mukherjee, the author of the 2011 Pulitzer Prize winning non-fiction book, The Emperor of All Maladies, which I just finished two nights ago.  When I went to read up on him after finishing the book, I found out his wife was an artist and that I had recently seen her work!  Cool!  I'll review his book in an upcoming post.

 That day we had lunch at Parm, which is a sister restaurant to one of the newest and hippest kids on the block, Torrisi Italian Specialities.  There was no way we would be able to get resos at Torrisi, so we settled for walking in for lunch at Parm, which, in keeping with the unwritten NYC policy, doesn't have high chairs.  Of course.  They specialize in Italian-American red sauce classics. The value for the dollar is good - you get a big plate of chicken parm (me) or chicken francese (Dotytron) with salad or baked ziti with "gravy" for $15.

 Our last dinner in NYC we trekked to Brooklyn to eat at Pies'n'Thighs.  Fried pickles, fried chicken, biscuits, mac'n'cheese, and a fried apple pie?  Uh-huh.  Yeah, that's right.  

 My friends A & S live in an apartment pretty close to our hotel, so we went to visit them that night and hung out on their shared rooftop terrace.  This is the view of the Empire State Building from their place.  Pretty slick.

I'm a sucker, and the Big Yam was suffering from the beginnings of his walking pneumonia...so I had in the bed with us every night.  Best. Feeling. Ever.

And that wraps up our version of NYC this time around.  Like I said, it wasn't ideal.  There are obviously more high-profile restos I would have liked to have gone to and I would have wanted a more restful vacation than what I got toting my bambino around...but it was still nice to spend a good chunk of time away from our regular lives and whatnot.  I just love, love, love NYC.  It's such an awesome, awesome city.

That wraps up the NYC coverage.  Back to regularly scheduled posting tomorrow...complete with a book review and HUNGER GAMES MOVIE WEEKEND MADNESS!!!

Fin.

NYC!

I can finally tell you guys about NYC!  

Finished a long-overdue paper last night and I'm feeling pretty good.  Tonight we're going to see The Hunger Games with SMcKay, Lolly, R, and SMcKay's new beau.  To say that I'm PRETTY PUMPED would be the overstatement of the not-so-new millennium.  I'm BEYOND excited.  I've been waiting for this for what feels like years!  We're also doing a round of pre-movie AYCE hot pot, AND I just came back from Canadian Tire with 3 new Rubbermaid storage bins to do some reorganizing, which pretty much just launched this day into the stratosphere.

The Big Yam is doing his first sleepover at Nana's house tonight and there are plans a-foot for a late night mission to Pac Mall.  Sounds like the best damn night, in oh, I don't know, FOREVERS.  The only thing marring my anticipation is the knowledge that I didn't jump on that Hot Topic District 12 tank when I first saw it.  I went back yesterday on my day off to buy one and they're all sold out!  Sold out online, too!  Booooo...so sad!  I still might do up my hair in a side braid, though.  Squeeeeee!!! So excited!!!  

So.  NYC.  Overall, not the best place to go with a baby the Big Yam's age, when you do NYC the way we like to do it.  That generally means, not a lot of museums, and a lot of hanging out maxing, relaxing all cool.  But it was still fun, and Momma D watched him one night so we could have a fabulous 5 hour meal with our NYC friends.

On the plane ride over, a man stopped to spend an extended amount of time talking to the gentleman half of the couple sitting in the row in front of us.  Finally, we heard the wife, say, exasperatedly, "He doesn't know you." which made me and the Dotytron almost die with laughter.  LOL!  This was made even more funny because the stewardess who gave us the "how to hold a baby on the plane" safety rundown had made a big show of "recognizing" the Big Yam and saying stuff like, "Oh, I remember this little man!  He's grown so big!" and telling the other flight attendant that the Big Yam was a "frequent flyer."  After hearing the "he doesn't know you" line, we wanted to use it on the flight attendant when she came back to offer drinks and make a big showing of knowing the Boobla.  LOL!  I mean, maybe she was our flight attendant when we flew Porter to Boston, but that was 8 months ago...I have a hard time believing that the Big Yam was the baby she was remembering.

 We stayed at the Tryp Hotel in Times Square.  It's newly opened and had the biggest rooms of any of the ones I had checked into (280sq feet).  It's also got some cool family-friendly features.  Our room had this little extra bar/counter area with an extra sink, an empty bar fridge, as well as free wi-fi.  The deal I got us also got us complimentary drinks one night.  Some of the other "family" rooms have murphy bunk beds that swing down from the wall, which would be perfect for a family of 4 staying together.  The rate we got was $169 all in, per night, which anyone I've told has said is insane and a great deal for Manhattan.  Momma D?  Not so much.  She said she was used to thinking of $100/night as her maximum for a hotel.  I didn't clarify if she was talking in like, Eerie Indiana or NYC in 1972 or something, but it was pretty funny.  

 Our first day we had lunch at Luke's Lobster, which is a great alternative to Pearl Oyster Bar.  They have multiple locations (no line!) and are routinely listed as one of the top 5 lobster rolls in NYC.  It's a great, classic lobster roll: top-split bun, the barest hint of mayo, huge chunks of lobster.  Served with a pickle, kettle chips and a boutique soda.  Perfect.  I think I prefer my lobster roll with a touch more mayo, but that's just me.  We got a lobster roll and a crab roll.

 This was my crew.

 At the MOMA.  I saw this Picasso and said to the Dotytron, "this is exactly what you look like naked."  *pause*  "I'm pretty sure that's a woman."  LOL!  We saw the Cindy Sherman retrospective which was awesome as well as a Diego Rivera special exhibit.  This was strictly for Momma D's benefit.  Left to our own devices, we're not really museum goers.  The Big Yam had fun listening to the audio tours, though:

For dinner we had intended on going to Shake Shack but with the weather being so nice while were there, the lineup in Madison Square park stretched almost around the whole perimeter.  We ended up at Hill Country Texas BBQ Market and am I ever glad we did!  It's kind of like a Marché type concept: all the offerings (meats, sides, desserts, drinks) are printed on a little card, you bring your card with you to the station, they serve you up, note what you ordered, and you pay at a cash when you leave.  Easy peasy.  SO DELICIOUS!  I am haunted by the taste of the juicy brisket, the beef shoulder, and their ribs.  The sides were divine, the corniest, creamiest corn pudding you ever done ate in your life.  

That was Day 1.  

Day 2-4 to come tomorrow.

Fin.

Addendum

to Monday's post about the jacking and the people abusing subsidized housing.  Last night I had class so I called to check in with the Dotytron on my way home.  I called the housing management corporation and spoke to the tenant relations person, who was very forthright and cooperative about addressing some of the issues (not the thievery, but the underage public drinking and whatnot) - anyway, I was filling in the Dotytron about all that.  Then he's telling me, "oh, I have an update about that...there was more going on today."  


Apparently, he came home yesterday to drop off the car and go get the Big Yam from daycare, and there's two kids, outside of our neighbour's house, about 4 and 5, "one of them had a pacifier in her mouth," according to the Dotytron.  So the Dotytron goes inside, puts something away, and comes back out to the car, and the older of the kids, who is STILL ONLY ABOUT 5 YEARS OLD MIND YOU, is standing by this beat-up crummy plastic wagon thing, looks the Dotytron square in the eye, and says: "That's mine. Don't touch it." And the Dotytron was like, in his head, "is this kid talking to me? What the hell?!?"  Then the teenager next door, who is actually pretty nice generally and is just a typical, uneducated, f**ked up goon teenager, comes out and yells at the kids and tells them to "go the f**k home!  Stop hanging around!" and the two kids start walking away, with their wagon in tow, and the older of the kids, WHO IS STILL ONLY ABOUT 5 YEARS OLD MIND YOU, turns to the younger one (the one with the pacifier) and says, (about the teenager) "that guy's a f**kin' s**t."  !!!!!!!!!!!!  So saddening.  The Dotytron was appalled.  He kept repeating to me, "Did I mention that one of the kids WAS SUCKING ON A PACIFIER?!?!!!" which was kind of funny but also tragic because it is TOTALLY shocking that a kid (a toddler, basically) who is young enough to have a binky, is already totally immersed in this s***ty, sordid, cycle of poverty, ignorance, and lack of opportunity.  


Ugh.  


To counter-balance that, on Monday, our riding had a by-election to elect an MP to replace Jack Layton.  I guess the Dotytron had told an NDPer that he was planning on voting for the NDP candidate, Craig Scott, so as we were sitting down to dinner, there was a knock on our door, and I opened it to a really earnest nerd-bot who was asking for the Dotytron.  So I'm like, "I take it you're from the NDP?" and he's all like yeah, and wants to know if we've gone to vote.  And I tell him no, we're going to go after dinner.  So then he's like, "Do you know exactly when that'll be?" and I go, "that's none of your business! Why do you want to know?"  And he, taken aback, says, "So I know when to come back."  And I'm hungry and sick so I say:


"Dude. We're educated liberals.  Don't worry, we got this on lock."  And shut the door.


LOL!!!  


I kill myself sometimes.  Although, according to the Dotytron on Monday night, when he was frustrated with me being a pill (admittedly), "Other than bearing my child, and the odd laugh over the years, you are the BANE OF MY EXISTENCE!!!"  


Good thing he put a ring (read: grill) on it!


Tonight we had pasta puttanesca.


For all my griping about the one bad element on our street - I love our 'hood.  Love it so hard.  I love biking up my street and seeing all the neighbs sitting on the curb and the kids careening into each other and talking.  It makes my heart swell.  We're really lucky to have this community spirit on our street and I try not to forget that for an instant.


Dinner tonight was pasta puttanesca with an arugala salad:

NYC round-up post coming!


Fin.

Captain Save-A-Ho

...got jacked.  AGAIN.  We're 95% sure that it's the resident of one of the subsidized houses on our street, since a neighbour has seen her testing door handles before, and less than a month ago, she was caught red-handed, going into another neighbour's mini-van, in BROAD DAYLIGHT, at like, 3 pm on a Saturday afternoon.  KEEP IT CLASSY, SUBSIDIZED HOUSING RESIDENT, KEEP IT CLASSY.


Whoever the culprit is, also broke into our other neighbour's car and took his GPS.  This is what they stole from us:  our new GPS, our booster seat that we keep for restaurants (that our neighbour gave us) and, most galling of all, my homemade car emergency preparedness kit, which was a rubbermaid bin with some rope, some towels, candles, band-aids bottled water, stale granola bars, kitty litter, an umbrella, and a first aid manual.  LAME!  Who takes that shiz?!???  This is just further evidence that it was the ho-bag on our street.  Who would want to carry that around?  


Anyway, it's super-duper annoying.  Look: I get it.  I'm a lefty.  I'm pro-subsidized housing.  I want my street to be like Sesame Street - a melting pot of different socio-economic strata mixing together into a happy melange.  However!  TAKE YOUR THIEVING ONE STREET OVER!  That's all I ask for!  Don't send your billion kids to my house for trick-or-treating and then STEAL FROM ME!  It's the worst.


Also the worst?  Filing a police report.  I spoke to the dispatch officer and I was like, "So...are you guys going to come and take some prints or what?" (100% guaranteed that lady has priors.)  Him: "Well, we only do that if 6 cars have been broken into on the same street in the same night."  (Sidebar: WHO CAME UP WITH THAT RANDOM METRIC?!?)  Me: "Well, seeing as how this is the second time this has happened on our street to us, and that over the course of the year, more than 6 cars get broken into, then what do I have to do to get increased surveillance or something?" Him: "Uhhhh...I just take down the report.  You could go to 55 Division and speak to the Sergeant and try to get him to take an interest in it, but it's a man power issue."  Me: "Well, if this was happening on YOUR street, WHAT WOULD YOU DO?" Him: *mumbles*


DON'T GIVE ME ANY BULL ROAR ABOUT A MAN-POWER ISSUE!  How come whenever I have to rent a cop for $250/hour or whatever for a freakin' wedding, there's no man power issue?  How come when I go to Square Boy and try to get a chicken souvlaki on a pita and the parking lot is clogged with Toronto's finest, there's no man-power issue?  I'm incensed!  Mostly because I just bought that GPS like, two weeks ago!  And because I don't want to have to go to Babies R Us to get another booster seat!  


It's just so demoralizing.  As Dr. Rei said today, being a decent, hard-working person in contemporary society hardens you.  As soon as you say, leave academia and get a job, it basically turns you into a fiscal conservative.  I don't understand why I pay out the nose in taxes, when people I know, don't work, receive government grants, and don't PAY INTO THE SYSTEM THEY'RE USING!  Believe me, I'm all for the redistributive powers of the state.  At the end of the day, I live under the spectre of Marx.  And yet...and yet...I can totally understand the frustrations of the working stiff when they see people abusing the luxuries of a system they don't contribute to.  Instead of work to rule, why don't they do like, volunteer-to-rule?  Why do we spent time making high school kids amass volunteer hours, but people on the dole don't have to account for any of their activities except for how they COULDN'T get a job?  As someone who likes to follow the rules (when convenient, ha!) I get very aggrieved when people can succeed by circumventing them.  


This is what we've been eating lately:

 Friday night the roomie came over and we had spaghetti and meatballs.  We then watched L'Armi's new show, The Big Decision, which is kind of a Dragon's Den spin-off.  She made a delicious arugala salad and I made us a salad of raw shaved brussels sprouts with a cole-slaw-y dressing.  Delicious!

Saturday the Dotytron made us his special Swedish pancakes - the version he turned in that morning was a personal best.

Saturday night Lolly and SMckay came over and I made us an impromptu St. Paddy's Day feast. We had baked corned beef, cabbage sautéed with apples and bacon, smashed tatties fried in duck fat, and roasted maple-glazed carrots.  We also had that chocolate budino with salted caramel for dessert.

Sunday dinner I went into Jewish grandma mode, on account of the Dotytron and I both waking up and feeling sick.  I made a giant batch of chicken stock and threw together a modified version of Italian wedding soup, with sweet potatoes, carrots, leeks, celery, orzo, kale, and meatballs made with ground turkey and parmesan.

I promise you an NYC round-up post shortly.  My laptop is in the shop and we've been busy trying to you know, NOT BE SICK AS A FAMILY.

Did I mention the Big Yam has walking pneumonia?  I didn't even know that was a thing!  From what I can understand by the doctor in our clinic who saw us, it seems to be pneumonia that doesn't make you hate life.  The Boobla has been amazing lately.  He had a really good experience outside with a ball the day before we left for NYC and thus, the whole trip, anytime we went from outside to inside, he would start doing his jackknife-spasming thing and crying out, "BALL! BALL-BALL! BAAAAALLLL!" and we didn't put it together that "ball" was synonymous with "outside" until day 2 of the trip.  What a mensch.

He's also started saying, "Da Da Doooooo" which we can't decode for the life of us.  It *seems* to be a catch-all phrase for something he wants or desires.  It gets applied to everything (food, outside, being picked up, the phone), and it creates a fair amount of frustration from both sides trying to decode what the actual topic in question is.  It IS however, tremendously cute to hear him going, "Da Da DOOOOOOO" repeatedly.  

Fin.

NYC!

We're heading out in just a little bit to one of my favorite places on earth.  Love, love, love NYC!  Can't beat it.  For a chowhound and a jazzer, it's the perfect city to satisfy both our desires.  This is what we have on our itinerary:

...and more!  

Roundup post upon my return!  Enjoy the next four days, all!

Fin.

From shoes to Ugandan war children

Ugh. So stressed today.  I'm trying to wrap up a jillion things at work before taking next week off and of course I got hit with a bunch of requests, which I love working on, but which are stressful.  


Then I ended up crying at my desk no less than 2 times, a steady, salty leak from my peepers that I tried to furtively wipe away to avoid any unnecessary commentary from my office mates which would no doubt have sent me spiraling into full-on wailing.  The first set of leaks was as a result of an email exchange with my mum, the second set was after I watched that Kony 2012 video (Twitter hashtag #stopkony), which is EPIC long for an internet video (29 minutes!) but was only uploaded like, 3 days ago and has 40 million hits.  Here it is:

I came across it cuz John Green, my hero, posted about it.  So I watched the video and of course was swayed by it's slick construction and message (can you IMAGINE someone kidnapping the Big Yam and forcing the little Boobla to be a child soldier?!) and got all weepy.  

I followed it up by reading the inevitable educated liberal backlash (you know, the kind that results in crippling inactivity) like this article from The Atlantic (note: I agree with and frequently invoke the author's point about the dangers of western banal sentimentality when speaking of the developed world, thereby continuing to put my training in post-colonial studies to good use) and this one in The Washington Post and now I'm right back where I started, which is knowing a little bit about a pretty bad situation happening outside of my own privileged sphere in the world and paralyzed by the opposing forces of wanting to do good and not knowing enough to be able to be a true agent of change into self-loathing and doubt.  Which is basically the calling card of the educated liberal elite.  Sigh.

I don't know how people do it.  I barely have it in me to stay on top of Ontario news, which I need to for my job.  Let alone Canadian news, let alone what's happening in the REST OF THE G-D WORLD.  Let alone attain a nuanced, critical, educated understanding of a particular issue enough that I would be deemed to have the "authority" to be able to speak on it.  If that was the case, the only topics I'm qualified to talk about are:

- Pinterest

- the Big Yam

- which ramen restaurant in the GTA serves the best tonkotsu

- the relative merits of AYCE Japanese restaurants in the greater golden horseshoe

- why Jazz music is the refuge of the damned (and by "damned" I mean tragic nerdy guys)

It's just so demoralizing.  So, even as I so fervently wish that I could be a proactive, smart, contributing member of civil society (like so many people I admire!), I end up reaching that point of cognitive saturation where it's just easier for me to watch Top Chef or like, think about where I want to eat dinner with the Goosetang Clan tomorrow than do anything that will make any real change (however minute, at least it's not so self-gratifyingly directed) in the world.  

It's bigtime depressing.  BIGTIME.

Edit: The Dotytron coincidentally and independently also watched that video today and we talked about it, and as usual, he helped me to crystallize and formulate some thoughts on the above.  To wit: the critiques of the Invisible Children movement miss the point.  All the movement is hoping to accomplish is to harness the short attention spans and vapidity of the Facebook generation towards a common goal, within a short, fixed deadline (the only kind that exists today, the only kind that is sustainable today) and then leave the politicking and the logistics to the experts.  It's pretty smart and savvy and neatly tailors the activity to the right people - so you let the social networking dummy masses generate the momentum to push policy makers to then turn over the details to the experts.  

The post-colonial theory discourse of the banality of sentimentality doesn't necessarily hold true here.  In this case, it's different than when Paolo Friere or Gayatri Spivak talk about enabling the disenfranchised "Other" to attain their own autonomy free from the paternalism of the northern elite.  Friere and Spivak and the like are talking about more insidious and, some could argue, dangerous systemic power dynamics than in the case of the LRA and its actions.  In the case of the LRA it becomes a question of human immediacy.  The citizens of Uganda (by all accounts) don't have a conflicted, complicated relationship with the LRA - the LRA is terrorizing the people and the rest of Uganda don't have the means to do anything about it, but want to.  Big difference.  I think.  I have to think this through some more, but I can say that I find The Atlantic's critique to be fatuous.  

The Big Yam had his first visit with the pediatric dentist today.  His canine teeth are coming in okay and his molars seem fine...so it's just a matter of monitoring.  The dentist said the canines should act as placeholders to prevent shifting and there shouldn't be any impact on his speech development.  Basically, loosing his four bottom baby teeth shouldn't impact his speech any more than if he had lost them in the regular course of life, in their proper  time.  He can eat everything and we have to see the pediatric dentist every 6 months to keep tabs on the situation.  Phew!

As a reward, I jettisoned our dinner plans in favour of Amaya takeout and cupcakes from Bobette and Belle.  My book club was supposed to meet tonight at the Harbord House but people were sick so in the end, we called it.  I'm glad.  On a rainy cold day like today (with hail!) Indian food and cupcakes at home with the boys is exactly what the kind of restorative measures I need.

Fin.

Snooziest of snoozies

The Dotytron and I are still battling the cold of doom so it's been a boring few days.  I basically spend my days in a fog of cotton-ball-brain (I seriously had to place FOUR follow-up calls to a client to negotiate their request because I was too mind-fuzzy to figure it out and ask the right questions the first three times) experiencing chills at work, then I stumble home, get it together enough to be able to play with the Big Yam (who has been absolutely lovely these past few nights) and then pass out at 9pm.  All I want to do is sleeeeeeeep.  I also want to be in top form for NYC.  Which means top form for Uniqlo!  And Shake Shack!  And BBQ!  And buying cool clothes for the Big Yam!  And the Cindy Sherman exhibit at MOMA!  And visiting with Pingy & A and my cook-friends!


I'm having issues finding summer footwear for the Big Yam's cabbage roll feet.  For some reason, mainstream kids shoe designers think it's okay to make little kids wear ugly, tourista dad sandals.  It's the worst!  Look at these things:

BRAF!  As I said on FB, I didn't go to the trouble of having a mixed-race kid in a vibrant multi-cultural urban metropolis to have him prancing around looking like that little brat above.  Gross!  And my other options?  Forget it:

FRAB!  Seriously?!?  How is that even a shoe that anyone would want to put on?  BTW, Geox sandals (the brand pictured immediately above) cost SIXTY DOLLARS.  Soooo uggie!  I find them offensive on so many levels.  

The thing is, I know like, Kanye has a source but I'm not gonna spend $250 on BAPE shoes for my kid.  There's like, no middle ground of affordable yet stylish sandals for boy toddlers that will not make me want to beat them up but will still mitigate the summer stink foot factor.  I guess my only choice are like, Crocs.  Which is muy depressing.

These are the only dece ones I've been able to find, and they don't have 'em in the Big Yam's size:

Maybe the problem presents a paradox.  You can't dress your kid cool AND still have him wear sandals.  Does 'Ye wear sandals?  Probably not.  Does like, Kid Cudi wear sandals?  No.  So it's an irreconcilable difference.  You know what brother does wear sandals?  The black guy from Hootie and the Blowfish, that's who.  And we all know what an outlier he is.  

In the end, I might just have to sooth my aggrieved footwear aesthetic with a pair (or two) of Creative Recreation high tops for the little lad (which cost $30, by the way, make sense of THAT.)  

I've gotten to a depressing part in my cancer biography (yes, there are parts of it that are more depressing than others) and so I'm injecting a little levity into my life with some comics reading.  I'm midway through Adrien Tomine's Scenes from an Impending Marriage and it is precisely the antidote to beautifully-written-but-unencouraging-treatises-on-cancer-mortality-and-the-politicization-of-cancer-treatment-and-research.  

Tonight we repurposed leftover chilaquiles mix and leftover (frozen) carnitas and merged them into one, unholy and delicious tostada.  Topped with the de rigeur sour cream, avocado, scallions, etc.  

Tonight was also my second night in a row of doing yoga.  I'm not gonna say that I've basically transformed my body, except I just did.

Fin.

Autism Inventory & Other Weekend Activities

NBD, we only had the BUSIEST WEEKEND EVER!  Holy carp!  This weekend was intensity in ten cities.  Friday night the Dotytron had a Doty sibling special dinner with Ehmdo and I had my friend E over.  I made us chilaquiles with black beans and hominy topped with tostadas, sour cream, scallions, chopped salted avocado mixed with lemon (I was out of lime) and there's a fried egg (or two) hiding under there as well.  I really, truly, love chilaquiles.  And I really, truly really like new friend E who is not only a crack dodgeball player, but a crafter, an eater, and a stylish lady who knows a lot about environmental toxins and is doing good things with her life, unlike a certain buckshot shorty.

Mama Dread strikes again.  New weekend activity - the bin of beans.  I picked this up from some Montessori parenting blog.  Ideally, there should be a LOT more beans in there...I'm going to go to the bulk barn sometime and get more.  The beans can be reused, which is nice and he had a grand, grand time picking them up, scooping them with the cottage cheese container, letting them run through the funnel, sifting his fingers through them, and piling them on his fat feetsies.  It's a pretty good activity and pretty clean, as far as kid's activities go.  You can just vacuum/sweep up the errant beans that get dumped outside the container and there you go:

Saturday we woke up EXHAUSTED because the whole family has a cold and the Big Yam opted to wake up at 5am.  So we were grumps.  R & R came over in the afternoon and brought us tonnes of mutton-based delights from Babu, which were delicious, my favorite being the mutton roll, which is their mutton, rolled up into a chubby log that is breaded and deep-fried.  Of course, the Big Yam, being the little Tamil tiger that he is, ate a million samosas and mutton rotis and rolls, even though they were pretty incendiary.  I don't know where he comes from sometimes.  He LOVES Indian/Sri Lankan food.   Then we posse'd up and headed to The Artist Project, to check out independent, unrepresented artists and support our dear, dear friend S, who was the winner of the Un-Tapped artist competition and exhibited her beautiful, ethereal loom panels:

Then we went back to our house with R & R and ate a million Turkish pizzas (pides) and I made us churros and these chocolate budinos with a salted caramel (which broke down and got runny!  BOOOO!), topped with whipped cream, and Momofuku milk bar chocolate crumbs.  Once I dial in the dessert (reduce the sugar, use a salted caramel that's more stable and firm), this dessert will be a winner.  Thick, rich, creamy, cold with texture from the crumbs and a nice balance of sweet and salt:

Then we took the autism spectrum inventory, which was hilarious and fun (it's especially fun to do it in front of your partner, as it's a self-assessment and lead to some spirited back and forth between me and the Dotytron).  We're not on the spectrum.  I scored in the slightly high range for a female and the Dotytron was in the normal range for a male.  Some of the questions are hilarious, though.  The Dotytron isn't detailed-oriented enough to be on the spectrum.  LOL!  

R was telling us this story that involved coming home and surprising her hubby by putting on "something cute."  At that point, I interrupted to say, "what do you mean by 'cute'?"  and R kind of gave me a weird look, and said, "you know...something cute" and the Dotytron had to intervene on my behalf and say, "it's a fair question for Karl, because it would NEVER occur to her to put on something that wasn't sweats.  When you say "something cute" she's envisioning a hot dog costume or like a chicken suit."  LOL!  So true!  I have a problem being seriously sexy or wearing something that's slippery.  It's just not in my lexicon.  I can't do it.  The fact that the Dotytron knows me well enough to know that I had NO EARTHLY IDEA what the subtext for "something cute" meant was really endearing.  

Sunday morning I made us this dish that I stole from a restaurant near m ywork.  They call it "eggy hammy cheesy" and it's precisely that.  An english muffin, spread with dijon mustard, topped with aged cheddar, melted in the oven.  Topped with chunks of ham, and topped with a fried egg.  DELICIOUS.  I sided it with oven-roasted grape tomatoes tossed with garlic and fresh thyme which is one of the Dotytron's favorite things in the world, strangely.

Then I parted ways from my family and went to get my bangs trimmed with Lolls and SMcKay before we headed to our friend N's baby shower.  N is the cutest preggo ever and her baby shower was so fancy!  Everyone was so lovely and the food was great and the games were fun and her Nonna is the most adorable woman ever.  I was so glad I was invited to share in it with her and her friends and family.  I can't wait to meet this little wee one!  

The Big Yam continues to learn things at a staggering rate (or so I've convinced myself, using my own personal metric of "super-genius" as my guide and not reading a single thing about child cognitive development).  He's learned how to say "7" and "8" in Cantonese and "ten" in English (he actually LOVES his flash cards, which is all kinds of awesome).  He says "roll" for this song, Roly Poly, he makes the appropriate sounds when we're reading this Robert Munsch book he loves, he says "go!" and "brown bear" and when you ask him what a lion says, he says "roar."  But it's the cutest, most muted, matter-of-fact "roar" you've ever heard.  Evidence in the video below.  He's wearing an outfit gifted to him from Auntie TPat in Vancouver:

We've also instilled the Pavlovian response in him that when we put him on the potty, he pees like, 90% of the time, thereby proving that my "reward" (he gets 1 square of toilet paper and we all clap and say "yay!") that SMcKay thought was the lamest thing ever, is working!  I'm sure nicer mums would give stickers, or candies, or some other real treat, but if your kid thinks 1 single, measly square of single-ply, scratchy eco-toilet paper is a reward - why fix it?  

Tonight the Dotytron is off doing professional development and then possibly going to a concert with Momma D.  So it was just me and the Big Yam.  Lots of stories and songs and being ridiculous.  I love 12 months plus.  It's just the best age.  He's FUNNY.  Like, intentionally funny!  And he doesn't really have enough of a sense of agency yet to be super-obnoxious or obstinate or willful.   So the past 4 months have just been a lovely, lovely time of him being a sponge of learning and a big goofball.  

I made us a dinner of packaged tortellini mixed with baby spinach in an alfredo-y cream sauce for dinner, with brussels sprouts, in awareness of the fact that our days eating brussels sprouts in 2012 are numbered, if the warm weather continues apace.  It was delicious!

Fin.

In which I talk about two things that made me almost cry with laughter this week

1)  Some people loathe office culture.  I can see why.  Putting together a randomly assigned group of people to work on tasks for over 8 hours a day for years at a time means that the veneer of public-sphere normality that most people can maintain for short periods rapidly wears off.  People are weirdoes.  MOST PEOPLE.  A lot of other people can't deal with that.  I, on the other hand, REVEL in the banalities of office interactions.  I find it such a fascinating sociological experiment every day.  Assisting me in this is that I have an unparalleled ability to find humour in the mundane and to not get fussed when people are just being weird in a way that doesn't directly impact my life.  I can let a lot of stuff roll off my back.  This week I was taking a break with G and K at work and we were trying to remember all the student placements who have passed through our hallowed halls. At one point, one guy's name came up and G said, "oh I remember ___!  We used to call him 'The Doughnut Toucher.'"  AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  It makes me laugh because it is ONLY in a work environment where you could call someone "The Doughnut Toucher" and have it actually be a thing.  It is ONLY in an office where you will find yourself looking on in horror when you bring in a box of Timmy Ho's and see a fellow colleague pawing through EACH AND EVERY ONE.  LOL!!!  So funny!!!


2) My nephew, Little Ze, has had this stuffed bear named BoBo that's he's had since he was born.  The relationship has changed through the years - it started with Little Ze sleeping with him, and then sniffing BoBo's butt to get to sleep, and then stuffing BoBo down his pajama pants for reasons unfathomable to anyone but Little Ze.  It's been almost a 6 year relationship.  My sister sent an email this morning to the family with the subject line: "BoBo is dead" and the content that my poor nephew was too scared to go to the bathroom in the night, and pooped and peed in the bed, and it was "horrific" (in my sis's words) and that as a result, the BoBo decision was made to let BoBo go.  


I responded that when I first read the words: "BoBo is dead" my heart stopped a bit (given the past year or so we've had, not an unreasonable reaction), even though I know who/what BoBo is.


My bro then responded:



Seriously...let's refrain from using the D-word in the subject line of emails. *lol* 


PS  worst way to go ever.




^^^  The PS had me almost peeing my own self with laughter.  So funny!!!  Picturing poor BoBo dead by way of a poo/pee tsunami is hilarious on so many levels, not all of them scatological.  


Last night the roomie and L'Armi brought us dinner.  It was very sweet and we had a fun time.  Today is my day off - I'm doing the usual massage thing.  Followed by a dentist appointment and futzing around the house kind of stuff.  Tonight I'm having my friend E over for vegetarian food and crafting.  Wheeeee!!!  I'm making us chilaquiles with black beans and hominy and crunched up tostadas.  And churros for dessert.  The Dotytron is taking his sis out for dinner somewhere - which was our Christmas present to her.  This weekend is hectic, but fun - baby shower, art show, dinner with friends, house stuff.  The usual melange of mundane, life-propelling, life-affirming stuff.


Fin.