Potatoes in the Mist

This is the fastest recipe ever, and just as good as it is quick: 1 can chickpeas, drained and rinsed 1/2 c water 1 can diced tomatoes with mild green chilies 1 tbsp minced garlic 2 tsp curry powder 1/2 tsp salt 1/2 c grated unsweetened coconut (although you can use the sweetened variety, too) 10 oz frozen chopped spinach Combine all ingredients in a large saucepan or soup pot. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce to medium, cover and cook for 5 minutes. Break up the block of spinach with a fork, cover and cook for 5 more minutes. Stir well before serving. I like to serve it with jasmine rice. (from Lorna Sass's Short-Cut Vegetarian) In other news, E and I survived the pediatrician visit today. I ended up spending almost two hours in there, which was annoying. But he handled the blood test (every 1-year-old in NYC has to have a blood test, to check for lead) and the shots better than expected. I forgot the Tylenol, so initially I was worried. But he only cried briefly, becau...

So I am back in NYC after almost two weeks. What started as a simple trip to celebrate E's birthday with my family changed when 2 of my aunts died within a week of each other. One aunt was on my mom's side, age 81; the other was on my dad's side, just a week shy of her 93rd birthday. At my Aunt M's funeral, I did the first reading, and E was fascinated by the church music. However, he did a loud raspberry at the end of one of the priest's statements. Both deaths were expected, but sad nonetheless. We came back to the new apartment and it did still smell a bit like paint. But we opened all the windows and the air seems fresher now. E is truly knocked out - he fell asleep sans bath or fresh diaper. (Note: it's not that unfresh; his poop of the day (POTD) is already behind us. So at most, he has a little pee in there.) I have to take him to the pediatrician on Thursday. I haven't been there since January. I'm not really looking forward to it. I dislike goi...

So I have an ARC coming my way from LibraryThing.com. A fellow from the publisher left a comment for me at LibraryThing on June 5, saying he had just mailed it. We went to Massachusetts on June 12, and ended up extending our stay. As of June 12, the book had not yet arrived. Typically it comes right to your door. I was diligently checking both the old apartment and the new (they are all of three blocks apart). No dice. So I hope when I get back to New York, it will be sitting outside the new apartment. If not, I have to go to the old apartment and check with the next-door neighbor, who just might have taken it under her wing. You may ask: which address did LibraryThing have? I changed my address to reflect the move before I got the email from the publisher. So I assume he had the right address. But you never know.

So when D and I moved, we went a little further away from the heart of the action. I thought I'd like being on a quieter street. I do like it, but find myself missing the sociality of my old building. Of course, I don't miss the porter. He used to get in my face and yell, "WHEN YOU MAKE ANOTHER?" (which means: "When are you having another child?") He had nine children or something, but was not in regular contact with most of them. But there are a number of people I miss from the old building: Abu and his father. Abu was a fluffy Pomeranian who got a short haircut for the summer. Pinocchio and his father. Pinocchio is a dachshund who joined the building 6 years ago. A woman and her dachshund. She doesn't actually live there, but visits her mother in the building. Her mother doesn't know she has a dog. This woman loves, loves, loves E. A guy who always says, "My friend!" when he sees E.

Well, we're moved in, but it's not entirely pretty. It's like a molting larva in its cocoon, I think...not quite finished. The apartment itself is lovely, but it's full of boxes and STUFF. Even after my extensive closet cleaning, there are things I never knew we had (they must have predated me). Hopefully E will sleep well tonight in his new surroundings. He just discovered a bit of Velcro underneath a cabinet door, ripped it off and is playing with it. Our move got interrupted. One of the rules of our co-op (I'm sure there is a rule book somewhere, as long as the OED or Encyclopedia Britannica) is that you have to be done moving in by 5. We got permission to go till 5:30. But there are still 25 boxes left to be moved in. In other high jinks, the movers had to temporarily remove the door to our old apartment, in order to get the refrigerator through.

The moving process has begun! I'm camped out at my SIL's apartment, feeding E bits of orange and watching him have a blast with SIL's exercise balls. D is supervising the movers, who are all wearing cheery orange shirts. I wondered if they make one in a baby size, but I didn't ask. They were upbeat and cheerful when they came in, and then they clicked into action. Faster than you could say, "Where's the crap?", it was all packed away. SIL has a gorgeous view of the Hudson River. I had a horrible night's sleep, due to electrical repairs taking place on the street not far below our windows (very noisy, and E woke up AFTER it stopped - maybe he was like, "Where's my backdrop?"). When I woke up, the bags under my eyes -- you could put groceries in them. But now I feel more awake and hopeful. Our new apartment is on a much higher floor (almost at the top of the building) so we shouldn't hear much street noise. And hopefully we won't se...

So tomorrow we are moving. The painting is done: a light buttery/lemony yellow for the living room and kitchen; "creme brulee" for the hallway and master bedroom; and a hint of "bashful blue" at the end of the hall (E's bedroom). I still can't believe it. I've been living in this apartment for ten years, and although we have definitely outgrown it, I will miss it. Tomorrow, the moving company will come to pack, move and unpack us - promising to be done by 7 pm. Over the past couple of weeks, I've cleaned the closets intensively, but I still feel like we have so much CRAP. What can you do? And the moving company is called Schleppers - how New York is that?

So today is E's birthday. I know it's ridiculous, but I feel like he's growing up too fast. I remember reading in the No-Cry Sleep Solution how the sleepless nights would later take on a "romantic haze" in recollection. I thought: Yeah, right. But I can see what they mean. Soon he'll be a toddler...then he'll have a girlfriend...then he'll go off to college...I can see what the empty nesters get upset about.

So E took his first (supported) steps today...while holding onto the couch. I think walking is around the corner...

So I went to Old Navy today and got a dress, skirt, a romper for E, and socks for E. The romper says: All-American Hunk, 2009. I'm going to need a new bra for the dress - it has really thin straps so the somewhat sports bra-like nursing bra I've been wearing is not going to cut it, and my fairy-sized pre-nursing bras are out of the running. In the past, I would have just gone without a bra in it, but that is not an option. Big-breasted friends of the Internet - am I stuck with an uncomfortable strapless bra or is there an intelligent solution I didn't think of? At any rate, the dress was really cute so I figured it'd be dumb to pass it up due to bra problems. I have mixed feelings about our move, which is imminent. The new apartment is superior in many ways. It's much higher up than the current one, so it'll be far quieter. There is no balcony to babyproof. The living room is about twice as big as the one we have now. We're going to have it painted in fetchi...

So D, E and I saw Rainer today. If you've been reading my blog for a while, you know that Rainer is an exceptional cat and a long-time friend. If you haven't, Rainer is a tabby who lives in a Brooklyn bookstore. Because of distance, pregnancy, childbirth and the whole megillah (a little Yiddish has rubbed off on me after living in NYC so long), I haven't seen Rainer since January '08. When we got to the bookstore today, the owner (also known as Rainer's father) said, "Hi!" I saw Rainer's friend, Hayes, napping on the counter. I asked, "Does Rainer still live here?" The owner nodded, but seemed a little uncertain. Then he told me that Rainer had had cancer. The tumor spread, and now he only has three legs. But he's getting around fine and feeling much better. I saw Rainer then, sleeping peacefully on a box. When he woke up, he came over and sat in my lap. Just like old times.

So D and I went to Home Depot to pick out window treatments. This is about as much fun as, I don't know, getting your toenails clipped. But finally we found some really nice, not blinds exactly but in that genre (I'll put up pictures when they're installed. If I remember). They had a little veil thingy on them (I believe it is called a vane ) and we had to pick out the color of that. Then we were done. They have a big sale on, and to take advantage of it, we needed to get the measurements done by May 27. (MIL, who loves this sort of thing, warned us to have the final measurements done by the installers, so they would be responsible for any errors. It seemed like sound advice.) So D met the measurer/installer in our new apartment, and had an unexpectedly good time. The installer told the story of an especially trying woman earlier. The woman, who lives in a rent-controlled apartment with many windows, asked him to install eight blinds (supposedly pre-paid to Home Depot). He ...

I wonder if E is starting to wean himself. His first birthday is June 4. He seems to be eating more food - not wolfing it down, but he loves tofu as long as it's not plain; he likes the smoked variety and also a kale-tofu dish I make where the tofu is flavored with balsamic vinegar. He also likes ice cream, little bits of vegan cupcake, bread, dry salad greens (baby greens are his favorite, appropriately), Cheerios, and so forth. He's gone almost 5 hours without nursing, which is unheard of. I gave him a little rice milk in a sippy cup. (I read that it's the most similar to breast milk.) He was not too successful with it, but what he did get, he seemed to enjoy. He also seemed tickled by the whole concept; he started laughing, flashing his two white teeth. I like to take him to lunch at a sandwich shop. Next to me, two guys were talking about how someone else (not present) was tightening his belt in the tough economy. "He only gets his dog clipped for $300 every 3 mont...

We can't move in for another 2-4 weeks, and don't have keys yet; but here are some pix from the day we inspected the place. One of the bedrooms; I'm not sure which. D took the pix. One of the views. Kitchen. Me in the living room. Hallway. Me in the living room again. Walk-in closet in the front hallway.

We got the apartment. It's big and beautiful and below market rent. We only had to wait ELEVEN MONTHS for it. Kvetching aside, I am grateful. Now we have to figure out what color to paint it...the co-op people will paint it for you, but you have to supply the paint. So I'm looking for good paint brands and color ideas. I think light green would be nice for the bebe's bedroom... P.S. I got recommendations from a friend who knows a painter over on Facebook - Durations (first place) and Benjamin Moore (silver medal).

So D and I were offered an apartment from our list. We're going to see it tomorrow. It should be great, but I'm anxious about it nonetheless. Big life changes and all that. I wish we could see it right now. But the management office was already closed when we got back from Boston, so we couldn't get the keys. E is crawling, but in a very calm way. He's not one of those terrors who zips around the house, unplugging everything and swallowing chemicals. (I actually moved all the detergent to the top of the fridge months ago.) We went to a "wedding celebration" on Saturday. It was in a town that's hard to reach because it's not accessible from 128, eastern Massachusetts's major highway. It was for a friend of mine, hosted by a friend of hers (whom I've never met before). At one point, the hostess yelled, "Everyone out of my kitchen!" but I didn't know whether she meant it or not. My sarcasm/joke meter is not always the best. I chose t...

So E is getting more into solids. Lately he has enjoyed avocado, bits of smoked tofu, Cheerios, steamed spinach, crumbled cornbread, bits of burger bun, vegan cupcake, bits of veggie burger, and soy ice cream. I was worried for a while because he didn't seem overly enamoured of the purees. So now I'm not using them and just giving him nibbles of table food. It seems to be working. I read a book today where a woman had trouble weaning. When her baby turned a year old, she gave him cow's milk (as her pediatrician advised) and he said, "No. Bad." Then she tried soy milk, goat's milk and rice milk. Supposedly, rice milk is the most like breast milk. Who knew? He turned them all down. He finally accepted the cow's milk when he was two. Like E, he is not fond of bottles (I gave up on pumping bottles for babysitters because they all reported that he was just chewing on it rather than drinking from it). So....not really looking forward to the weaning thing. I have...

I survived E's first swim class. The other moms were very nice. I saw the one I met last time, whose baby has a very serious expression. I also met a new one, from England. I explained how when we went to London, we stayed in Marble Arch and had fun saying that with a British accent. Hers was better, though. I also liked how she said "nappy" instead of diaper. After class, there was a surprise appearance by her nanny (a surprise for me). She said to the nanny, "If I change his nappy, can you get him dressed?" I thought, "That's a sweet deal." I would feel weird about having a nanny, though. I don't know why. Unless I had 6 kids or something. There are some people who should have nannies. The octo-mom is one. Anyway, the only downside of the class was the swim diaper. It was not what it was cracked up to be. I was, shall we say, baptized before class. But I had a towel handy and no one was the wiser (except the British mom, whom I told; she said...

I went to the hairdresser the other day to get my roots done. It really is a drag once you start getting your hair colored professionally, because you have to keep up with it. However, my hairdresser does a good job. She is a tiny woman, a self-confessed bottle blonde who treats hairdressing as artistry. I like how she gets really serious about my head. We never had one of those confiding-in-each-other relationships, but somehow we did last time. She has one kid but would have had more if she didn't get divorced when her baby was 6 months old. "If I had a good husband," she said in her Armenian accent, "I would have 2 more." "3? But that gets expensive," I said, thinking of Manhattan real estate. "That's why I say, a good husband," she said, and winked. I told her about my hesitation with the 2 kids thing. I told her about 2 kids I know, where the older kid beats up on the baby when the parents aren't looking. "They want someone...