Charles in charge.

It's very non chill being misrepresented in a professional capacity because, in part, I suspect that guys have the tendency to focus all their aggression on a woman, even if a woman and a man are saying the EXACT SAME THING.  

Am I loud?  Yes.  Am I outspoken?  Yes.  Have I been that way since pretty much birth?  Yes.  Am I confident in my brains and my professional judgment?  Yes.  Do I feel this is something I should apologize for, or curb?  AW HELL NO.  

I've had a very trying time, the past week and a half.  But there have been bright spots.  

Like: Dr. Rei and I hatching a plan for an awesome project together, and by extension, me being continuously nourished and sustained by this beautiful, strong, funny, smart woman's counsel, commiseration, and support.

 Like: we had my mum over for a birthday celebration for her and ate Sukho Thai takeout and I presented her with a coconut bundt cake that she didn't care for.  

Like: we took the kids to the Zoo on Friday.  We had a really fun time and it was all around splendid. At the gorilla enclosure one of the male gorillas, Sadiki, was standing right at the glass and I met his eyes for a solid 30 seconds, and I don't know what happened...but I started welling up.  He just held my gaze and the meaning behind his eyes was so primordial, still, and all-knowing...it triggered the Romantic sublime in me, and I just felt overcome.  It's like that scene in Mulholland Drive where the women are are sitting in the theatre and listening to a woman singing a Spanish (?) version of Roy Orbison's "Crying" and one of the women watching just starts to cry and cry, tears spilling silently down her face.  It was such a deep moment, and after, I felt so calm, and centred.  

The other night we were watching Broad City and I had one of my mortality moments and I felt my blood pressure skyrocket and that panicky, IDON'TWANTTODIEEVER feeling in the pit of my chest, which is usually how it goes when I think about dying.  After staring into the eyes of the gorilla though, I was acutely aware that the feeling I had when he assessed my soul, were I to think about my own mortality and death (which I did, immediately thereafter - Romantic sublime again), would carry over and I would feel peace and that maybe this is what people feel like when they're about to die.  Maybe if the conditions are right, you're not filled with panic and dread, but you tap into the ancient gorilla-gaze that lies dormant in the deepest recesses of your brain and soul.

Carrying on.

Like: we went to Barque for brunch with the kids on Sunday morning and hit the Jamie Bell adventure playground to burn off some kid steam right before.  It was such a nice morning and Barque is so kid friendly.  Like, I knew they were kid friendly because we had gone there when the Big Yam was young, but kid-friendly enough to handle a table of 5 featuring three kids to two adults is like, next level kid friendly.  They have little mini packs of play-doh for each kid!    Anyway, the kid's menu had scrambled eggs or pancakes (and some other stuff that were non-options for my guys).  I ordered pancakes for the Twins, and I asked the Big Yam what he wanted.  "Scrambled eggs."  "Are you sure?  You don't usually like scrambled eggs when I make them at home."  "Scrambled eggs."  "You're sure you don't want pancakes?" "Yes, I want scrambled eggs."  

Scrambled eggs are placed in front of him.  He glances at his brothers' pancake plates and his face crumples in abject dejection and he wails, "Awww...I should've ordered pancakes!" and then he buries his face in the Dotytron's chest and cries, "Now I wish I didn't order scrambled eggs!" and maybe there's something wrong with me, but the crushing realization of his own error in judgment was very hilarious.

Like: Twin A's new deep-throated belly laugh.

Like: Twin A's singing along to his auntie's song in his little wispy voice.

Like: Twin B's standard greeting of "Hell-lo" when you enter the room.  As well as his new thing of saying, "aww" in this funny, aggressive kind of way.  And also saying, "alright" to agree with you.

Like: the Dotytron and I getting a night out for ourselves, midweek, thanks to the babysitting services of one Momma D.  We went to Imanishi Japanese Kitchen, a new Japanese izakaya-type place.  The space is really pretty - kind of serene Japanese-rustic...like we were in a tavern in the Japanese countryside.  I think it's run by ex Kinka (née Guu) dudes.  The food was good, but not great, and while I liked eating izakaya-type food in a quiet, adult space, I thought the execution at Kinka is much better - the fish carpaccios are more inventive and the flavours make more sense at Kinka.  The standout dish at Imanishi was the corn tempura, and everything else was okay, but not as satisfying as the Kinka experience.

This was grilled sting ray fin with a dipping sauce.  This dish was a flop.  It was chewy and lightly charred but the texture was off and the flavour was vaguely funky, but not in a good way.  

You can't go wrong with fried oysters.

I didn't take a picture of every dish, but we got the beef carpaccio, and the whitefish crudo, the aforementioned corn tempura (so lacy and salty and addictive), and perfectly cooked octopus balanced against the crunchy brightness of celery.  

That's a good summary of my bright spots.  Friends, family, and food.  Pretty on-brand, I'd say.

Fin.

Buffs'n'tings

Last weekend, I went through all three kids' clothes and did my seasonal inventory, which is an extremely boring, but necessary task where I write up a list of their needs for the season (# of t-shirts, # of long-sleeve shirts, sandals, hats, etc.).  Then I go through their drawers and see what they have that will still fit into the next season, what has to be retired, and what has already been bought or is in a hand-me-down bin and cross-reference with that list so that I only buy what I need (I always end up buying a little bit more, but because I have a giant and twins, they all get used eventually).  It is mind-numbing work and I'm really glad I have two Master's degrees and also: guys are useless in this department, although if there are any cis males who DO do this work, then please message me because you should be sent for study at a highly acclaimed research facility on gender equality in the domestic sphere.

ANYWAY, I had already bought the Big Yam this tshirt below, but hadn't opened the package yet:

Cut to - a couple of night's ago, him asking me when we were chilling, "Can you get me a shirt that has a skull and crossbones on it so I can be a pirate?" and me saying, evenly, "OK, we'll see."  

Cut to - last night, me showing it to the Big Yam with much fanfare and him being the MOST jazzed of life.  

Cut to - this morning, 6:15am, me in the kitchen starting the daily routine and the Dotytron eating his breakfast in the living room when the Big Yam comes down the stairs, and announces, "Hi Baba, I already dressed and brushed my teeth" and I was like, "What the - ?!" and he's standing at the bottom of the stairs wearing all his clothes for the day, with that proud/shy expression on his face that slays me dead.  Usually, it is a FIGHT getting him to change out of his jammies (he doesn't like putting on cold clothes), and he waits until the very last possible minute, and there's a series of escalating (in tenor and volume) reminders for him to brush his teeth.  But today!  Today he stood at the bottom of the stairs and was dressed (even his socks!!!) and had brushed his teeth all because he was so pumped to wear a $10 t-shirt with skulls on it, and he broke and simultaneously mended my heart.  He's such a fearful kid and he's generally afraid to do the wrong thing, so it really shows when he's self-conscious.  That mix of shyness and pride that he sees you noticing him doing something is so eternally sweet, I can't handle it.

A couple of weeks ago, I was holding strong and refused to let the kids watch a show on a Saturday morning, because sometimes I like to make my weekends as torturous and masochistic as possible.  They were in the basement being maniacs, and finally I had enough and said, "Fine. You can watch one show before breakfast," and from the basement I heard Twin A screaming, "ONE SHOW!!!" like he was a civil defense siren in a little wisp of a body and it makes me laugh to this day.  

As of today, I'm on vacation for the next week!  Huzzah!  We have some laid back, fun, staycationing times ahead of us and I couldn't be happier about it.

Edit: picking up this post mid-way through my staycation, which so far has been anything BUT laid back and/or fun.

UGH.  My Friday before going on vacation was so stressful.  And I got called into work yesterday to deal with work stuff and it was so not fun and I had heartburn all last night as a result and I had to field work-related calls while at the sugar bush with my kids today and that was also very NOT fun.

Our latest obsession is watching American Crime Story: The People Vs. OJ Simpson which, I know, I was as surprised as anyone that it is THE BEST SHOW ON TELEVISION RIGHT NOW.  And look: I make it a habit of watching the very best curated television.  There were SO MANY strikes against this, coming out of the gate (mixed sports metaphor, say what!): a Ryan Murphy pedigree (I've never liked anything he's done), stunt casting, a story that we already know, from every angle, and that could so easily be played for lurid, grotesque, People magazine-like titillation.

The thing is: it doesn't do any of those things.  It is that perfect mix of staying on the tasteful side of camp and so incredibly entertaining, while framing this ground-breaking case within the paradigm-shifting intellectual/cultural context.  It is because of this that we have reality television.  I went back and checked, Survivor debuted almost 10 years after this trial.  We have the birth of the Kardashians as an entity.  We have racial politics playing out in a very visible way in the courtroom - and by the way, nothing has changed!  We have the 24 hour media cycle elevating ordinary people to the level of celebrity, we have tabloid culture, racial dynamics, feminism...it has everything.  The casting is PERFECT.  Like, the most perfect.  David Schwimmer as Robert Kardashian is everything.  Sarah Paulson is perfection.  John Travolta as Bob Shapiro is the role of a lifetime and he is NAILING IT.

I seriously want to go back to grad school so I can write a million papers about this.  It is so ripe for a densely layered reading.  Anyway, the episode "Marcia, Marcia, Marcia" that focused on Marcia Clark was so real from a feminist, working mom perspective.

This was made very real for me when things blew up at work and I got called in yesterday and was putting out a fire.  I was like, YES MARCIA, I GET YOU.  When I was methodically going through all the kids clothes, I was like, YES MARCIA, THIS WOMAN'S WORK IS HARD STUFF.

We were debriefing about my no good, terrible, very bad day yesterday and the Dotytron made a solid observation about how the amount of training you receive on a job counterintuitively gets less the more professional and important your job is.  It's so true.  He was like, "It's like, when you're a teenager they're like, 'this is how you cut a bagel - no, not that way! - this way - ," and no one trains him on anything to do with being a teacher.  You're just expected to learn on the job.  Which I get in terms of the minutae of how you do your actual job...but I feel like people don't get training on process, or administrative procedures either?  Which is totally weird.  When I was a cashier at Loblaws, I had to go to Loblaws central and I was tested on PLU (produce) codes for like, 2 days, before I stepped foot in the store.

I'm also obsessed with this seasons of Girls (which I have been watching from day one because I am a good quasi-Millennial, but which really picked up for me in season 5 and now I legit love it), and Broad City, and anything to do with the Duplass brothers.  I LOVE ME SOME DUPLASS BROTHERS.  I want to be the meat in a Duplass brothers sandwich.

They are so smart and funny and they were seminal in the development of "mumblecore" movies and they care.  They executive produced Tangerine, which is about trans women in downtown LA.  Jay Duplass is in Transparent, which is another current favorite show.  Mark Duplass is a good actor and they're just amazing.  We started watching their show Togetherness which makes really astute observations about (heteronormative) relationships at a certain point.  I just love them.

Anyway, where was I?  Oh yeah, work was stressful.  March Break has been semi-fun, and semi-stressful and by Tuesday mid-day I was like, that was the LONGEST day and a quarter of my LIFE.  Yesterday was a write-off, but the Dotytron and I did manage to go out to eat (more on that later).  Today we took the kids to Bruce's Mill Conservation Area to go to their maple syrup festival.  It was actually really fun.

We've had some pretty low key weekends which is good - we're sticking to one day of socializing and keeping Sundays for nature walks and being chill, even if it does result in Twin B complaining, "I don't want to go for nature walks!" on the regular.  Haha.  We had an epic snowball fight at the Brickworks on the last snowy day.  The Dotytron took the Big Yam to a birthday party at Laserquest and was the only adult to participate and came in second place (proudly) (at a 7 year old's birthday party).

I also made the kids these double-sided fall/spring neckwarmers and they've been a big hit.  It was nice to get back to sewing - I've taken a long sewing hiatus over the winter.  My goal is to make Twin B his quilt before he turns three!  Then the one after that is a big quilt (queen sized, minimum), for me.  Then I'll probably start all over again with quilts for the kids as the Big Yam is already outgrowing his crib sized one.

The Scatterbrained Booky

I think I fulfilled my non fiction quota for the next five years by reading this book.  Coates won the National Book Award for this, deservedly so.  This is the most powerful writing I've read in a long time.  Written in the spirit of James Baldwin's The Fire Next Time (which I haven't read), this is a powerful treatise on being black in America, written by one of the foremost writers on the topic today.  The book takes the form of a letter to Coates' teenage son, and it is deeply personal and universal, the writing dense and rich and so intimate, that it automatically posits the reader as an outsider, regardless of your racial identification.  It is a brilliant structural device to tackle these issues.  Coates reflects on his youth growing up in Baltimore, his awakening at Howard University, and how the American state, upheld by "those who think themselves white," brutalizes and systematically destroys black bodies, regardless of class.  Coates realization that not even class can protect black bodies was a sucker punch.  He talks about his classmate, Prince getting shot in a case of mistaken identity.  He talks about how these bodies represent so many hours of investment and love and hope - so many hours spent driving back and forth to soccer practice, supervising sleepovers.  That line just wrecked me.  You'd think this book is hopeless, and yet, somehow, the very act of writing means that it's not.  It's a warning, a parenting memoir, a treatise on race, all rolled up into one.  I can't recommend this enough. 

 went on a bit of a tear for a bit, and my brain was all the better for it.  I can't believe I slept on Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay.  This collection of essays from a self-proclaimed "bad feminist" is everything.  You can see her Ted Talk below.  Gay is a relatable, self-critical, pop-culture-savvy, conflicted feminist, which means that we are kindred spirits.  She is smart, and funny, and while I don't agree with everything she says, I like that she's thinking about these things.  Her essay on being a competitive Scrabble player is quite possibly my favorite in the whole collection.  I love her, I love her Twitter presence, and I can't wait to read her forthcoming book about being fat.

From there, I flipped to Rebecca Solnit's Men Explain Things to Me (I told you I was on a tear). Solnit is known for coining the term "mansplaining" which, let's be real gyals, we've ALL experienced.  I've had to call the Dotytron on it, when he does that.  There were times when we'd be talking about smoking (food), and he'd jump in and start talking about the process like he was the one who smoked the meat in our house and I'd have to jump in and shut it down.  Anyway, this series of essays was rage-inducing.  The essay on sexual assault, in particular.  When she talks about how much money the government is willing to expend to combat terrorism but how we do nothing to fix sexual assault but put the burden on women...I was so mad!  Reading Bad Feminist and Men Explain Things to Me back to back lead to many arguments in the Dotytron-Lagerfeld household.  I had my hackles locked in the UP position.

My book club picked Maggie Nelson's The Argonauts as a read, two reads ago.  This is a semi-autobiographical loose collection about Nelson's relationship with trans artist Harry Dodge.  The book opens with him f**king her from behind, bent over something concrete, if I recall.  I'm not familiar with Nelson's work but I know she's popular amongst the intelligentsia.  She's a poet?  Anyway, to me, the book read kind of smugly progressive.  Like, "look how cool I am in how this is so not an issue."  Which, look, I totally get!  I'm on board!  But I she just seems kind of humble-braggy about it?  I don't know how else to put it.  I kind of wanted to know more about Dodge, and his perspective.  There's one point when Dodge makes a statement that he's not "on his way anywhere" in reaction to the term "transitioning."  I only really felt like I was getting at the "real" Nelson when she was talking about being pregnant and giving birth to her child with Dodge - all the affectations and airs seemed to fall away as she gloried in this embodiment, which is at odds, whether conscious or not, with the tone of the rest of the book.  I'm glad I read it, because this is a buzzy, in-the-moment book, but I didn't love it.

So this gets me slightly back on track, even though I have like, thirty more books to review.  

This was your International Women's Day-themed book review compendium.

Fin.

Bloop Bla!

The twins have created their own game called "Bloop Bla" which involves throwing a ball in the air with both hands and shouting "Bloop Bla!!!" and then laughing uproariously.  It can only be played with a very specific ball - the ball was misplaced for about 30 minutes last Sunday which caused considerable consternation.  When they found it, they stomped down to the basement triumphantly, grinning and saying, "we can play Bloop Bla!" and all was right in the world.

Here is some video of Bloop Bla in action:

It's very low-concept.  I don't want to call it too early, but the likelihood of us incubating the next Trivial Pursuit-like game creators seems pretty low at this point.

The good news is, that after 2 3/4 years, Twin A and Twin B are FINALLY starting to get along and be friends.  The bad news is: that more often than not their interaction consists of getting a rise out of each other.  It is very funny listening in on their conversations, the other day in Eddie Van Halen, Twin A was upset about being roused from his nap too early and was in a stroppy, contrarian mood and Twin B narrated, "He's mad at Mama, he's mad at Baba, he's mad at Tee-o, he's mad at EVERYSING!' Their general mode of being consists of being alternately exasperated/aggrieved with the other.

Things I'm hoping I'll always remember: how, when when either of us put the twins down for bed, Twin B has this sweet ritual.  I'm not permitted to leave without Twin B saying, "don't go yet," "lie down with me," and then throwing his arm around my neck and pulling me in close and burying his face between my head and shoulder, my cheek pressed tight against his, our breath mingling.  He has to stay like that for a good 10-15 minutes, until he's properly drowsy, and then I'm allowed to leave.  I always feel bad for Twin A, who is still in his crib, so I reach over and hold his hand while all this is going on.  Then I have to kiss both their palms and their feet through their blankets before I'm allowed to go.  It's labour intensive, but I love it, so.  There is something so revealing about Twin B's rough and tumble nature dissolving into a pile of mush at the end of the day.  He's such a closet softy.
Twin B walks heavily and carries a big stick.  Everything about him is big, even though he's small (still comfortably rocking their size 2T at almost 2 3/4 years!).  He's so sturdy and entitled on his little stubby legs and goes chest-first into everything.  He is incapable of whispering, but with Twin A, the little dreamer, sly, wise-cracking soul that he is, you can have entire whispered conversations.  It's very sweet.

We've had some nice weekends.  They've been low-key.  One day we'll have a social thing with friends, and the other day will be chill with a nature walk and then the afternoon spent making a Sunday Supper-type meal.  Two weekends ago we hosted our friends R & R.  We went to the Beach to check out the winter warming stations installation and met some friends there.  The installations were okay - we had the kids with us so only managed two, and we went just at the point when that warm, spring-like weather that had Toronto pouring out from the indoors took a turn for the cold and dreary.

  
Hammering baked beans straight out of the pot

Twin A's sweet little face

The entire beach is turned into an off-leash dog park in the winter, so it's gross. I saw a tampon applicator on the sand and the entire place was filled with garbage - cigarette butts, Starbucks lids...it's disgusting how people treat this place.  I hung back and chatted with my friends as Twin B, confident as ever, walked up to one of the stations and hopped up on a bench and started chatting with the adults surrounding him.  He was eating a Pocky and I saw one of them ask if he would share and he said no.  He's such a swaggering, jovial personality.

Skating with Twin B

Showing off his pirate Xmas present from Aunt V and Uncle C.  The pos3 was his own.

 This past weekend was the inaugural Article Club - this thing Dr. Rei and I have started.  We send out a curated list of articles on a theme, and then we invite a rotating cast of people over to dig into them.  It was really fun - a little hairy with all the kids, but doable.  It was nice to go deep on some stuff with my beautiful, intelligent, wise friends.  Not everyone was conversant in the subject matter (we took on authenticity, race, and Beyoncé's Formation video, who can speak, who can't, etc.), but that generally added to the conversation as we tried to figure stuff out.  It was really great and I want to do more of it.

Here are the articles we read, if you're interested:

http://www.deathandtaxesmag.com/280129/beyonce-capitalism-black-activism/ 

http://www.slate.com/articles/double_x/doublex/2016/02/beyonc_s_formation_exploits_new_orleans_trauma.html

http://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2015/07/tanehisi-coates-between-the-world-and-me/397619/

http://www.theroot.com/articles/culture/2016/02/beyonce_drops_formation_for_the_people_the_black_people.2.html

http://newsouthnegress.com/southernslayings/

http://www.vulture.com/2016/02/why-white-privilege-is-everyones-burden.html

http://www.esquire.com/entertainment/music/news/a42173/watch-kendrick-lamars-2016-grammys-performance/

https://vimeo.com/154783794


The thing that I love about all the people I hold near and dear to my heart, is that without fail, they are all people who love to dig deep down into s**t.  Who love to debate and think and explore and figure out the universe.  I need more of that in my life, always, but a concentrated forum in which to do that is all kinds of amazing.

We've been dragging the kids on nature walks every weekend, if the weather permits.  That means that on the way in, the kids are fine - skipping, good-natured, dragging sticks.  Scene cuts to: 45 minutes later, and a bedraggled, crazed family emerges from the woods, carrying at minimum, 2 out of 3 children, all of whom are by turns: crying, screaming, being held horizontal, or covered in mud.  It's a solid hang.  Two weeks away we ended up at Charles Sourial park, which runs along the Don River.  This walk was notable because we got to go THROUGH the rainbow tunnel, which has captured my imagination since I was a kid.  This past weekend we went to Guildwood Park, which features random sculptures collected from all over and a walk along the Scarborough bluffs. It's very easy to get dangerously close to the edge of the bluffs (the fencing is tenuous at best), so that lead to some anxious moments for me.

We are in a heady TV time at Casa Dotytron Lagerfeld.  This season of Girls is so good.  I love it.  Do I have the hots for Adam Driver?  Indubitably.  Has the writing gotten better.  I'd argue yes.  My affection for the show has grown as the characters have grown.  Then there's Broad City.  Just seeing the icon for Broad City appear on our TV is enough to get the Dotytron to start laughing.  We hopped back into The Affair for a bit, but we're not heavily invested, and yet cannot look away.  We should probably talk about how into Angie Tribeca we are.  Classic, Airplane and Naked Gun style humour is life-affirming stuff.  Like, if you don't like Airplane, then I can pretty much tell you're dead inside.


Here is what we've been eating:

I'm back in the thick of bread baking.  These were my first two loaves.  Did I already post a pic of this?  They were okay.  I've gotten much better.

Freezer bolognese and pasta with roasted brussels sprouts because Twin B loves them.

Shrimp and grits with andouille sausage

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This has been a favorite breakfast around here, lately. Cheese grits and fried eggs with pan-fried scrapple.

Trying to stay on track with the grocery budget - twice baked potatoes, steamed broccoli, and merguez sausage

Freezer cauliflower soup and melted cheddar-onion toasts

A kale and squash strata with cheddar cheese and homemade tomato jam

This past weekend's Sunday supper: chicken marsala, with pappardelle, steamed broccoli (Twin B also loves steamed broccoli) and this Swedish gooey chocolate cake (recipe here).

I made this apple pie following a Serious Eats recipe that had me stir the apples and bring them to exactly 160F for 20 minutes before piling them into a crust.  The idea was to "activate the pectin" so the apples wouldn't shrink nor get mushy.  The resulting pie was okay.  I think maybe I'm just not a classic double-crust apple pie fan?  

Fin.