Poor Long-Form Written Word

This poor, poor blog!  So few posts compared to the halcyon days of yore.  And yet, I can't stop won't stop.  I won't give up on blogging.  Not now, not ever.  I will hold true.  There is room for the long-form reflective written word and this is my space.  You can't supplant it with all the Snapchats and Instas and FBs and Twitters...you just can't.

What have I been up to?  ONLY HAVING THE TIME OF MY LIFE.  The weekend before this past one was literally insane in the membrane.  That's the technical designation for what I did.

Friday was my day off and I spent the day running around like a maniac.  I helped out at the book fair, went back to the Big Yam's school to do sub lunch, did mad errands, and that night I met my friend M in Kensington and then had tortas from Torteria San Cosme which were DELICIOUS.  We split the chicken milanese and the cubano, and I also bought a cochinita pibil one for home.  The sandwiches are priced at around $9, which is kind of pricey, but they're substantial and so well made and they griddle the bread, which is key.  It's a nice touch.  I'm of the belief that hot sandwiches should be served on buns that have been kissed with some kind of fat and then burnished on a flat top - it provides a texture barrier and just ups the general ante.  Anyway, the space is super-cute - it looks like a little cafeteria lunch counter with excellent floor tile work.  I'm a little in love with it.

That Friday was one of the nicest spring days we've had yet, and I was running around in my very ancient, vintage Mexican embroidered shirt that I've had for over 10 years.  The moms at the Big Yam's school were going apes**t and one of them asked me if I got it from Anthropologie.  There's been a lot about cultural appropriation in the media of late (see: Justin Bieber's dreads) and I was like, damn, am I culturally appropriating?  Should I not be wearing this shirt?  Then at Torteria San Cosme, one of the Latin American women working the grill (and it was super-amazing that the whole crew behind the counter was women - assuming they also have a say in the means of production), pointed at my shirt and mouthed the words, "I love it."  That made me feel a little bit better, but also: am I just being lazy and relying on a "native insider"?!?  WHO EVEN KNOWS ANYMORE.  The point is, those sandwiches, that I might have zero business in the world eating, were freakin' delicious.

Then we saw a Frida Kahlo documentary that was meh.  It was very "classic documentary" which meant long, still shots of the light on a wall and the sound of birds chirping.  It was about this Japanese photographer who went to Kahlo's house and took photographs of Kahlo's stuff and then they framed it by also interviewing women in Oaxaca who produce the embroidered clothing (it was just a random coincidence that I wore my shirt that day, I swear) that Kahlo wore.  I get what the documentary was trying to accomplish, linking Kahlo's embrace of her Mexican heritage and work as a woman artist with the traditionally female craft work and domesticity, but it was a bit of a slog and the thesis could have been tightened up a bit.

Saturday we played in the Regent Park playground with the Wonder Twins and then followed that up with dinner at Bar Isabel with Dr. Rei and Hanbo.  Such a fun time.  I love those guys.  My mum watched the kids and was hilarious about it.

Sunday was Mother's Day.  Mother's Day has been AMPED UP in recent years.  My FB exploded with heartfelt and sentimental tributes to all mothers...it was a bit much for me, to be honest, but the Dotytron was lovely and took the kids away for a couple of hours so I could work on a quilt.  Then we went on a nature walk, and then Momma D came over and watched the kids so we could have dinner at A3 Napoli (one of my favorite restaurants) with JJ and S and then we went to see the Noma documentary at Hot Docs, Ants on a Shrimp.  

This documentary felt like a slog, to be honest.  It's ostensibly about the time the chef, Rene Redzepi, packed up the whole restaurant and transplanted Noma to Japan, for a 3 week engagement.  What emerges is this slavering fanboy flick that doesn't critique anything.  You don't get any sense of the thought processes that go into the dishes, what they're after, how the dishes taste, what the reception of this endeavour was...basically, as a viewer, you're supposed to take it on faith that the stuff tastes good.  It was very acritical and all I got out of it was flashbacks of my time on the line.  There was also all this hyper-masculine, macho stuff: the film opens with the chef de cuisine and the sous chef charged with conceptualizing the menu, both of whom are heavily tattooed dudes, and are shown in the opening scenes of the film doing weird cross-fit type stuff like pull-ups and working on rowing machine until they get blisters.  Just, ew.  Get over yourselves, stupid macho kitchen mentality.

The Don is so magical

Comic book nerds are also magical

Some of the awesome stuff I picked up.  Love that Prince and Bitch Planet poster!

This weekend we had my friend C64 and his partner over for dinner on Friday, then on Saturday we went for a rainy walk in the Don Valley with the Wonder Twins, and hung with SMckay that night.  The Dotytron went to see Lee "Scratch" Perry and on Sunday, SMckay and I hit up the Toronto Comic Arts Festival.  I dragged the Big Yam which was, in retrospect, a bit of a mistake.  Although I was gazing longingly at some of the other parents who had children, seemingly younger than the Big Yam following them throughout the crowded halls, with their noses buried in comics.  Really want to share my nerd interests with my kids, yo.

That being said, the Big Yam has been hilarious.  A few week's ago we went to see Peppa Pig at Boston Pizza.  They were blasting Peppa Pig on the screens and Peppa came around to all the tables.  At a certain point, as she was making her way, the Big Yam craned his neck to see, and announced: "Peppa Pig is coming!  ... Jesus."  LOL!!!  He's so funny.  The other night, we had our neighbours over for dinner and were having a big conversation about wants versus needs.  I asked him, "So, can you think of something that you really need, versus just want?" and he said, "Ummm...wifi?"  Touché.  Can't really argue with that, can we?

Some snaps from around here, lately:

Sleepiest bubbies

B-b-b-b-bath time!

These two.  Finally starting to get along and be friends.  They're doing more collaborating and colluding and are frequently in cahoots.  During their increasingly fraught nap times, I'll hear Quincess test the door knob of their room (we have one of those door-knob protectors which means they can't turn the knob), and report back to Twin B, "It's locked."  So cute.

Eats around here, lately:

Company dinner: tagliatelle with radicchio and bagna cauda, with a poached egg and crispy croutons

Made a pretty kickin' chicken biryani with green beans thoren.  There are some refinements to be made, but it's definitely a good foundation.  Next time I might add some plumped raisins and will make some extra rice.

Saw some stunning artichokes so we roasted them, I made chorizo potatoes, and seared some ling cod and served everything with romesco.  GAH!  Love romesco so damn much.

Fin.

Frivolous (But At the Same Time Vitally Important) Question

Okay, here goes:

Denim harem jogging pants with high tops, yay or nay?

I think I'm gonna go for it.  We'll see how this shakes down.

I recently splurged on my first grown-up lady powder blush and it has CHANGED. MY. LIFE.  My go-to Benefit Benetint is good, but it kind of dries out my skin, somehow, and sometimes the flush was a little subtle.  I went with Nars blush in Torrid, which is a darker, deeper pink with a little less glittery bits than their all-star product, Orgasm, which is the blush that's supposed to look good on everyone.  It did look good on me, but this deeper tone works better with my darker skin.

I also scored the score of life!

This coat retails for $420 at J. Crew and I nabbed it (in excellent used condition) for $100!  It's such a lady coat.  I love it.  I was on the fence for a bit because I wasn't sure the sandstone colour would suit my skin tone and I was kind of heartset on a grey, but this looks and feels so luxe.  I'm obsessed.  You know I loves me a deal.  Combine a grown-up lady coat with my addiction to the thrill of second hand clothing finds, and this is a big, big score.  It looks so good with my skinnies and runners!  Obsessed.

Dr. Rei gave me a gold, Nars eyeshadow pencil thing and all in all, I've been really feeling myself lately.

I'm very loved up on my network of people at the moment.  Friday was my day off and I had brunch with my new friend, N, who is a brilliant, beautiful, woman of colour doing interesting research and has amazing style to boot.  Then, I had a massage and my RMT went to a book launch and Chester Brown was there and we both had a moment of being all "ewwww, he's so gross!!!" and she made a crack about how, if she ever saw Seth, she'd knock that porkpie hat right off his head and I felt SO GLAD that I know someone who knows/appreciates/can make that joke.  I so want to meet Chester Brown so I can ask him if he knows he's gross.  That's very important to me.  It's really hard to tell from his work.  He's very honest about the the gross things he does and the gross ways he does them, but there's a certain flatness in the delivery and a lack of self-reflection that also makes it seem like he doesn't know he's gross?  Like, if you were gross the way Chester Brown is gross, shouldn't you be contextualizing/feeling guilt/wanting to ameliorate your grossness?

To wit, I recently read his comic, Paying For It which is about a period when he became a client john, during this tumultuous time in his life when he was still technically the significant other of Sook-Yin Lee, and was living with her, but she was pursuing a relationship with this drummer (!) and eventually moved that drummer into their apartment (!) and effectively ceased to be Chester Brown's partner.  But he still lived there for a while.  Anyway, as with The Playboy, I appreciated Brown's honesty, but that doesn't make his dealings with the prostitutes and his editorializing any less gross (he's very superficial when describing the prostitutes).  I get we're all superficial, and he's entitled to that (maybe?), but at the end of the comic there's a big position paper on how he feels prostitution should be legalized, but nothing about his own sexism and grossness and situating that in any critical, self-reflexive, trying-to-be-a-better-person way.  It was just icky.

Related, we started watching this show, The Girlfriend Experience, which is tangentially related to the Steven Soderbergh movie of the same name.  It's shot in Toronto (but isn't set in Toronto) and it features Riley Keough as this law school student who takes a demanding internship and becomes an escort.  It's shot in a very dark, dim, moody, Soderbergh-y way and has that same, voyeuristic, detached tone.  It's not hugely compelling but the episodes are only half an hour and at this point, we're mildly interested.

Last night, as we readied for bed, the Dotytron was reading Paying for It and I was reading my own thing and I suddenly had the thought that guys secretly might want the escort type experience...like they really just want to see themselves pandered to, and have this blank slate woman to reflect themselves back, so I decided to try.  This is not going anywhere sexxxay, don't worry.  I mean, so much of the time I feel like we barely even listen to each other (I mean, we do, but not about mundane shiz).  So I thought it might be a good way to focus and really pay attention to my partner if I adopted the persona of someone who is basically being paid to listen to you.

The character in the Girlfriend Experience always has this blandly interested expression on her face and speaks in a coolly detached, neutral voice (again, very Soderbergh-y) so I affected that and turned over to face the Dotytron, and the exchange went like this,

Me: *Adopts a cool, demur, low tone* "You're reading the Chester Brown?"
Dotytron, reading, "Yeah,"
Me: "What do you think about it?"
Dotytron: "I don't know!"
Me, soldiering on, still with the low voice, "You can tell me anything, you know"
Dotytron: "AGH! WHAT?!!? WILL YOU SHUT UP!?!?"

LMAO.  At that point, I told him what I had been trying to accomplish and we both laughed at what a colossal fail it was.

Not very scientific though.

A narrow house me and Merrick came across on a walk

Black sesame steamed milk!!!

Two babes, now with babes, a little older, a little wiser, a little babe-ier

 I'd be remiss talking about how loved I am on my peeps if I didn't mention as always, the inimitable Dr. Rei.  We went to see Rihanna on Wednesday and had the best time of life.  A long walk, Banh Mi Boys, followed by black sesame steamed milk, then Travis Scott and Riri giving the best show ever - so many medleys and so many hits!  I love her.  She's such an open and real performer.  I love how imperfect she is and how she owns that.  It was such a fun night of dancing and women being amazing.  Love!

We went to visit my sister this weekend and it was filled with the usual: Cracker Barrel, Delmonico's, playing in their backyard, picking up all the goodies, cousin shenanigans:

Little Little Cuz put on these fake glasses and went around claiming he was an "old man." The old man's name?  Timothy, of course.

I bought Twin A a pair of tights because he's obsessed with mine.  Anytime I wear tights, he comes up to me and touches my leg, "These your tights, mama?" and our caregiver told us that he likes to pull his socks up as high as possible.  I got him these and he loved them so much.

These are the perfect high-tops for a short legged person like myself.  Wahhhh - they were too big!!!  They come in men's sizes so I put my considerable research skills to use and tracked down a pair in my size.  Can't wait til these are on my feet! The style is the Vans Sk8-Hi Slim.  Pretty ubiquitous, but the colour is hard to find.  It's a cream colour which is easier to wear than the more readily available bright white.  They're sold out everywhere!

 Good hair. Solar flare. 

Nature is the bomb.

Sister selfies. This is AFTER Twin A barfed on me at Brian's USA Diner. Sorry Brian, we owe you one.

This is a picture of how Twin A sleeps.  He's hardcore into the sleeping with his eyes open in the creepiest way imaginable, tip.

Cousins gonna cuz.

Back at home on Sunday night...Twin B being a maniac.  I was trying to capture him knocking himself on the head like Donkey Kong while making those grunting noises, but then it turned into him doing that disgusting stuff with the food because he's a nutjob.

Snapchat fun.

Last Monday was one of those epic comic working mom days.  Our caregiver was going to be late, so I had planned to stay home an hour to drop off the Big Yam at school, and then meet her back at our place for a twin hand off. Running late, I was upstairs trying to throw on some clothes and brush my teeth when I heard Twin A shout, "HE BARFED!!! LINDSAY BARFED ON THE CARPET!!!" and while, like most witnesses, he was a little unreliable when it came to the details, he got the gist right.  But I had to get the Big Yam to school, so I bundled everyone up, and shoved them all in Eddie VAN Halen, and then listened helplessly as Twin B barfed AGAIN.  Then, because we were late, I had to hustle all three out with me and carry the barfy Twin B in my arms to the office for a late slip, before delivering the Big Yam to his classroom.  At that point, I called it a day and took the rest of the day off so our caregiver wouldn't have to bring the twins with her to pick up the Big Yam from school.

Of course, as I'm learning about Twin B, he needed to barf the sickness out of his system, pass out for a solid, deep 2 hour nap, and then he woke up from said nap and behaved like usual.  It's a very intense, odd, methodology his immune system has, but it's pretty consistent.

Then, that night, bedtime, we hear a thump from our bedroom and then Twin A starts wailing...but that's par for the course, until he ran out and we saw that he had blood streaming down his face and had a small 1.5" cut on his forehead.  So I had to take him to the ER, which was a s**tshow (it is true what they say about ER's being the busiest between 6pm and midnight).  We were triaged and then I think the nurse didn't believe me when I said there were no signs of a concussion or loss of consciousness, because she sent us to the waiting room of the damned.  By the time we got to the WROTD, we had already been in the hospital for 2 hours.  Some people in the WROTD had been there for 3 hours at that point and still hadn't been called.  Finally, because I am nothing if not a good advocate for my own health care, I was like, "the last time we were here we were taken to another area where they do stitches and fractures?  Can I go there?" Which got us fast-tracked to that waiting room, but I had the misfortune of dealing with a doctor bro who told me he was in the middle of switching over with another doctor, who would be there in "5 minutes" and since the freezing agent takes 20 minutes to set in, and new doctor is the one doing the stitches, that I should just wait.  Well, cut to 45 minutes later, and I finally said to bro doc, "Uhh, if the freezing agent takes 20 minutes to set in, can we at least start the process?"  

Then, when new doc finally showed up, she was pushing for the glue for Twin A and I had to say, "Nuh-uh, last time he picked that out the next day," and push for stitches, which Twin A slept through, because my kids are champions at the doctors.  Twin A slept through the stitches, but even better, slept through them injecting a needle full of freezing agent into his forehead.  It was pretty gross.

The upside is, the stitches lasted all of 2 days before he picked those out, too.

Oy.

Fin.

Break

I'm finally feeling like myself again.  It took a while to get here.  I was a ball of anxiety and nerves and stress and an extra-long weekend was what I needed to refocus.

It's been an intense week!  Last Wednesday we hosted my sister's kids and my mum for dinner.  The Big Yam was half out of mind with excitement at seeing his cousins.  We played Pie Face, which is a totally sadistic, gussied up version of Russian Roulette, with whipped cream instead of bullets.  You can play with a wet sponge (which the Big Yam prefers), but my sister's kids being the sugar hounds that they are, they went with whipped cream:

Thursday I took the twins to the indoor trampoline place during the day, and visited with the Roomie, then we had Dr. Rei and Hanbo and Zoony over and it was the best, obviously.  The best moments where when Dr. Rei mentioned getting Zoony sunglasses and I asked whether she got the "kind that have the strap that goes around the kid's head" and she was so offended that I asked her (with just cause, Baby Banz - pictured below - are horrendous).  LOL!  It was amazing.  She was so mad at me for 1) suggesting that she would buy them, and 2) implying that even if she did get them, they weren't the most horrendous thing you've ever seen.  Seriously, check them out.  They're THE WORST.  Only the worst people put Baby Banz on their kids.  We were also trash-talking Minions until Hanbo interjected with, "Uh, guys, Zoony kinda loves Minions," and we look over and Baby Zoony is standing enthralled by Minions in front of our TV, and pointing and saying, "owl."  So cute.

Friday we took the kids to Jamie Bell Adventure Playground again, except this time it was a skating rink.  Then we looked at the sad animals at the High Park Zoo (v. sad), and then took the kids to Kinton Ramen.  Except THIS time, the Kinton location we picked didn't even have proper chairs, or bench seating - they just have those blocky wooden stools.  Stools are NOT great for kids, but somehow, it turned out to be the best iteration of ramen en famille we'd ever attempted.  Pros: empty restaurant, I now roll around with little pucks of Play Doh in the diaper bag, we ordered the right stuff (turns out, Twin B loves ramen).  It was great.  We even jinxed it halfway by saying, "This might be the most successful restaurant outing ever) midway through the meal.

Then, the most epic thing happened on the way home.  I turned around and Twin A had Dizzy Gillespie cheeks and his mouth was all pursed closed and his eyes were watery and there was suspicious stuff around his mouth and I was like, "Oh s**t, he barfed!  In his mouth!" I frantically looked around and luckily we had an empty cardboard coffee cup and I twisted it around and held it under his mouth and told him to spit and he took his little wisp of a hand and pushed the cup away and shook his head.  I gave him a tissue and told him to wipe his mouth and he took it and wiped his lips but otherwise, held the barf in his mouth for the entire ride home (about 10 minutes)  until we got home and convinced him to spit it in the street.  It was epic.  Near the end, the Dotytron and I looked at each other and shook our heads in disbelief and the Dotytron said, "he is a better man than I."  Truer words have never been spoken.

This pic came home with the Big Yam the other day from school.  I feel like it's kind of passive aggressive???

After that adventure, we went to La Carnita with my sister and mum and C-Hova and Aunt Viv and then came back and ate cake.

Classic "Happy Birthday" spacing issues.  Shoutout to John Mulaney's standup special for reminding us all of Happy Birthday card-making spacing issues that befall us all.

Snapchat (or, "Snap-chap" as Twin B calls it) is proving very popular with the younger generation.

THEN SMckay showed up and our Discerning Coyote friend and we went to the SURPRISE PRINCE SHOW.

SO EPIC.

SMckay nailed the ticket getting.  I didn't know anything about the show before I agreed to go, only that it was a surprise show at the Sony Centre.  When the Dotytron informed me that it was an intimate show with just Prince and a piano, I was a little worried that with tickets to the 10pm show, I was on a fast-track to the most expensive nap I've ever taken.  I was wrong.  SO SO WRONG.  Prince shows are pure vibes.  Prince fans are the most beautiful mix of multiracial people - it's like going to Shondaland.  He is such a charismatic little miniature pony - he was in such a playful mood.  Stripped of the production, the power and craft of the songwriting shone through.  It was incredible.  I'm so glad I got to go.

This is actually a big month for me, concert-wise.  I went to Prince, I'm seeing Pusha T on Saturday, and then RiRi with Dr. Rei.  The freedom and socializing we're doing because the kids are all at an age where they're pretty manageable by a sitter is definitely mitigating my baby-craziness.  

Saturday I took the kids to meet my family for lunch and then we came home and went swimming at the Regent Park Aquatic Centre.  It was fantastic, although very, very crowded, and as always, Twin B continues to be a maniac.  He climbs up on the ledge and will basically cannonball into the pool without checking to see if anyone is there to catch him, frequently jumping ON TOP of other swimmers.  He could *just* keep his head above water by bouncing on his tippiest toes and then proceeded to push us away saying he could do it "hisself."  The Dotytron followed behind him as he walked down a ramp (Twin B couldn't see the Dotytron) just to see if at some point, maybe when the water was over his head, if he would get freaked out.  Nothing.  Nada.  When it got so deep, he just grabbed the railing, hooked his legs around, and just held on.  His confidence and level of entitlement is next level.

Twin A's face was basically like that, ALL MORNING.

We hosted my family for dinner and then they packed up and left.  The next morning was the annual street Easter Egg hunt, where I learned a few things: 1) my kids are terrible at Easter Egg hunting.  So slow and laid back.  2) Twin A woke up on the wrong side of the bed.  He doesn't get mad often, but when he does...it lasts nigh on the whole day.  He basically spent two hours inside our porch, pouting, radiating misery, and glowering everyone at our screen door, protesting until he could go back in the house.  He's having a bit of a time right now with tantrums and being in a snit and inconsolable for hours on end.  He has a way of wiping his eyes like a grown person massaging a migraine with one hand, that is very hilarious.

Easter is one of those fake holidays that I just can't do.  Some people do the hunt inside and then an auxiliary hunt outside and I just can't.  I also can't with hyping my kids up on the Easter Bunny.  Some people also treat Easter like it's second Christmas (which, I guess it is?  For Christians?) with legit presents and stuff and I don't see myself going there, either.  A simple hunt, some chocolate, and that's all I really have the mental energy and wherewithal for.

Sunday dinner we had at Momma D's house.  We were eating dinner, and I announced to the twins, "You know who's wearing underwear now and goes poop and pee on the potty? Jack." At which point, Twin B drops his fork, drops his hand palm-down on the table, slouches back dramatically in his chair, presses his head against the chair back, exhales mightily, and says in a deadpan, flat voice, "I hate Jack."  lolololol!  It was so funny.

Finally, Monday was a day of semi-rest.  The Dotytron and I took the morning to go eat ramen (he's on a HUGE ramen kick lately), then we had the Big Yam's friend over, then we hosted the Roomie and L'Armi and their kids.  It was epic.

Tuesday was the Annual General Meeting for that non-profit I volunteer on.  I was nominated to the Board of Directors!  The past two nights were proper nights off, and then it starts up all over again today.

This weekend is PACKED.  

Friday night: dinner at the Discerning Coyote's house

Saturday: Brunch at JJ's, Pusha T for me, Record Club for the Dotytron

Sunday: Supper club

After this we need to take it easy for a bit, methinks.

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.