Court loaned me Chocolat after I had checked out Joanne Harris' My French Kitchen, not realizing the cookbook author and the novelist were one and the same. It was a quick, good, somewhat dark read, which I wasn't expecting. My expectations were tainted a bit by the movie version; one of my top ten favorites, one that I put in when I want to watch something light-hearted, with little to no conflict, that makes me warm and happy (and hungry). There's a sequel to the book, The Girl with No Shadow, but I doubt I'll read it... I can't have the movie version messed with that much!
I should caveat that I'm typically one of those people who think that the book is always better than the movie, with few exceptions; and, had I read this book first, I might have thought that the movie version was sacrilege. But in this case, I prefer it this way. How many movies can you say are light and happy and sexy and have a great soundtrack and Johnny Depp? Yeah, I rest my case.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Things I Like in May
Flowers
ClosetCouture.com
http://www.mtvmusic.com/artist/coldwarkids.jhtml
Pink nursery
Safety outlet covers
Gold gladiator sandals
Sweets
Iced coffee (decaf!)
Farmer's market under the JFX
Crepes at the farmer's market
Grocery lists in French
The weekly menu board
ClosetCouture.com
http://www.mtvmusic.com/artist/coldwarkids.jhtml
Pink nursery
Safety outlet covers
Gold gladiator sandals
Sweets
Iced coffee (decaf!)
Farmer's market under the JFX
Crepes at the farmer's market
Grocery lists in French
The weekly menu board
Just When You Thought It Was Safe...
I read a pretty disturing article in the May issue of Vogue ("Mercury Rising" by Bronwyn Garrity). Since I'm pregnant, I've been trying to serve fish for dinner twice a week. We've had seared scallops, poached cod, baked flounder, fried catfish, and shrimp nearly every way you can serve it. (Who knew a bag of frozen shrimp could last for so many meals and end up being so economical?) Early in my pregnancy, my doctor gave us a list of high, medium and low mercury fish, and I've stuck pretty much exclusively to those on the "low" list. Mercury is a neurotoxin that attacks the brain and central nervous system, and I have three of sets to worry about: mine, Matt's, and our baby's.
But this article sheds some light onto things I didn't know, such as how some commonly eaten fish were last tested in the late 70s. And I imagine pollution has increased a bit since then. ("You think??" Matt just muttered.)
And this little tidbit: In a process known as biomagnification, fish accumulate mercury more rapidly than they excrete it, and every fish up the aquatic food chain contains more than the one it just ate.
And, there is the issue that mercury concentrations in fetal blood are, on average, 70% higher than the mother's.
Farmed fish is one option, but the sewage and pesticides used in the tanks spill over into surrounding waters, escapee farmed fish dilute genetics of wild populations, and there is the little issue of the antibiotics used, which is something I try to avoid in the meat I buy.
On the other hand, wild fish tend to be higher in mecury (and I don't know that I trust fishmongers to toss out the catch that exceeds the FDA's action level, anyway) and unless you see the Marine Stewardship Council's seal, chances are the seafood hasn't been harvested sustainably.
So, I'll continue eating my two servings of fish a week, try to spread it out so I'm not eating it two days in a row, and will keep to the low-mercury list.
In the meantime, I'll check out the DHHS/EPA list of mercury levels and, if I ever get an iPhone, download the app that gives you updates on sustainable choices. Bon appetite.
But this article sheds some light onto things I didn't know, such as how some commonly eaten fish were last tested in the late 70s. And I imagine pollution has increased a bit since then. ("You think??" Matt just muttered.)
And this little tidbit: In a process known as biomagnification, fish accumulate mercury more rapidly than they excrete it, and every fish up the aquatic food chain contains more than the one it just ate.
And, there is the issue that mercury concentrations in fetal blood are, on average, 70% higher than the mother's.
Farmed fish is one option, but the sewage and pesticides used in the tanks spill over into surrounding waters, escapee farmed fish dilute genetics of wild populations, and there is the little issue of the antibiotics used, which is something I try to avoid in the meat I buy.
On the other hand, wild fish tend to be higher in mecury (and I don't know that I trust fishmongers to toss out the catch that exceeds the FDA's action level, anyway) and unless you see the Marine Stewardship Council's seal, chances are the seafood hasn't been harvested sustainably.
So, I'll continue eating my two servings of fish a week, try to spread it out so I'm not eating it two days in a row, and will keep to the low-mercury list.
In the meantime, I'll check out the DHHS/EPA list of mercury levels and, if I ever get an iPhone, download the app that gives you updates on sustainable choices. Bon appetite.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Where Oh Where Has My Little Cat Gone?
Friday, I worked from home while we were having carpet installed in the three bedrooms. At this point, Empire has redone all the floors in the house except for the kitchen. The guys came right at 9am, and got to work. About halfway through the job, I noticed one of the guys had left the front door open. I shut it, and when he came back in, I reminded him that I have a cat and the doors need to be kept CLOSED. Then I looked for Angel. And looked. And looked. I scoured the house top to bottom twice, and when one of the guys said he had seen Angel run down the stairs, I figured he HAD to have gone out the door.
Yeah, I panicked.
I looked all around the front yard, under the cars, up the trees, in my back yard, in the neighbor's back yard. I called him nicely, I called him frantically, I demanded he bring his butt back home. I walked down the street and begged for help from neighbors I had never met. I called Matt and demanded he come home from work. I called my mother and cried. I called Angel some more.
Nothing.
When I walked back to the house, one of the Empire workers (of course, the one who spoke little English) was waving me down and pointing in the house, and when I walked in, the other guy said he had found Angel, and pointed to the recliner.
I looked, but didn't see anything.
Then I got on my hands and knees and looked again.
Then I pressed my face to the floor, and sure enough, I saw the bottom half of the four-legged love of my life. And I told him as soon as he got out of there, I was going to kill him.
Cats have a reputation for being independent. Angel may be like that with most people, but not with his Mommy. He is at the foot of the bed every morning when my alarm goes off, and when I start to stir, he walks up to me and purrs and combs my hair through his claws. When I swing my feet over the side of the bed, he tried to make the most of the swiftly fleeting lap. He circles my ankles when I go to the bathroom, follows me downstairs for a cup of cereal and back upstairs to eat it, usually demanding his share of milk with an insistent whine.
He sits on the toilet seat while I brush my teeth and wash my face, escorts me when I'm getting dressed, and "talks" to me as I do my hair and make-up. I think he's begging me not to leave.
I always tell him I love him and to have a good day when I head out the door, and just this morning wondered whether he watches me drive away. The thought breaks my heart a little.
In the evenings, he greets me at the door. Or, when the weather is nice and I have the upstairs window open, he yells his greeting from there while I come up the walk, and dashes to meet me when I'm putting my key in the door. Then he drives me insane as punishment for leaving him all day. He whines for his dinner, whines while I'm making mine, screeches the entire time Matt and I are at the dining room table, eating. Sometimes, we just put him up on the table to keep him quiet. On those occassions, he usually helps himself to Matt's glass of water, then lays down between our plates. Sometimes, when I'm done eating, I'll push my chair back and he'll jump in my lap and purr his approval.
At night, he sits on the toilet while I have my shower, then stands guard in the hallway, keeping his eye on me until I'm safely ensconced in bed. Depending on his mood, he may get in bed right away, or he may stay by the door for a while, watching over me.
No, Angel isn't independent when it comes to his mom. And I'm not very independent when it comes to him. I couldn't bear the thought of losing him, especially after Alex died. And I'm grateful he didn't stray far from his mom, even when the door was left open.
Yeah, I panicked.
I looked all around the front yard, under the cars, up the trees, in my back yard, in the neighbor's back yard. I called him nicely, I called him frantically, I demanded he bring his butt back home. I walked down the street and begged for help from neighbors I had never met. I called Matt and demanded he come home from work. I called my mother and cried. I called Angel some more.
Nothing.
When I walked back to the house, one of the Empire workers (of course, the one who spoke little English) was waving me down and pointing in the house, and when I walked in, the other guy said he had found Angel, and pointed to the recliner.
I looked, but didn't see anything.
Then I got on my hands and knees and looked again.
Then I pressed my face to the floor, and sure enough, I saw the bottom half of the four-legged love of my life. And I told him as soon as he got out of there, I was going to kill him.
Cats have a reputation for being independent. Angel may be like that with most people, but not with his Mommy. He is at the foot of the bed every morning when my alarm goes off, and when I start to stir, he walks up to me and purrs and combs my hair through his claws. When I swing my feet over the side of the bed, he tried to make the most of the swiftly fleeting lap. He circles my ankles when I go to the bathroom, follows me downstairs for a cup of cereal and back upstairs to eat it, usually demanding his share of milk with an insistent whine.
He sits on the toilet seat while I brush my teeth and wash my face, escorts me when I'm getting dressed, and "talks" to me as I do my hair and make-up. I think he's begging me not to leave.
I always tell him I love him and to have a good day when I head out the door, and just this morning wondered whether he watches me drive away. The thought breaks my heart a little.
In the evenings, he greets me at the door. Or, when the weather is nice and I have the upstairs window open, he yells his greeting from there while I come up the walk, and dashes to meet me when I'm putting my key in the door. Then he drives me insane as punishment for leaving him all day. He whines for his dinner, whines while I'm making mine, screeches the entire time Matt and I are at the dining room table, eating. Sometimes, we just put him up on the table to keep him quiet. On those occassions, he usually helps himself to Matt's glass of water, then lays down between our plates. Sometimes, when I'm done eating, I'll push my chair back and he'll jump in my lap and purr his approval.
At night, he sits on the toilet while I have my shower, then stands guard in the hallway, keeping his eye on me until I'm safely ensconced in bed. Depending on his mood, he may get in bed right away, or he may stay by the door for a while, watching over me.
No, Angel isn't independent when it comes to his mom. And I'm not very independent when it comes to him. I couldn't bear the thought of losing him, especially after Alex died. And I'm grateful he didn't stray far from his mom, even when the door was left open.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Feel That?
Last evening, I was sitting in bed staring at my swollen stomach. “What’s wrong?” Matt asked, perhaps thinking I was in some sort of melancholy trance. “Nothing,” I said. “The baby is kicking and I’m just concentrating on feeling it.” Then a few moments later, I felt her again… and at the same time, I saw my stomach twitch. I got Matt’s hand on my stomach right away, and after a few moments…
“Feel that?”
And he did.
“Feel that?”
And he did.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Do You Know the Muffin Man?
Matt and I have quite opposing views on breakfast. I think it’s the most important meal of the day, that one must start the day with proper nutrition, that toaster pastries are snacks and not meals, etc., etc., etc. Matt has never been a big breakfast guy. He doesn’t drink milk, so that rules out cereal, and is usually too pressed for time (and disinterested) to make himself something. The only exception to this rule is the weekends, when we have brunch together. Matt usually cooks, and we rotate between vanilla-scented French toast, pancakes with fruit compote, veggie omelets, baked eggs, breakfast burritos, fruit smoothies… my tummy is rumbling just thinking about it! And now that the farmer’s market is open for the season, we’ll indulge in crepes the moment we get there, before we start shopping.
But the weekdays are a different story. I tend to have a mini Pyrex dish of granola cereal when I wake up to appease the growing girl in my tummy, then I often have a packet of whole-grain oatmeal when I am settled at work. Matt on the other hand, skips breakfast. Or had been doing so, until I realized something else about Matt’s dietary preferences.
Dessert.
Okay, who DOESN’T think dessert should have its own place as a separate daily meal? But anything dessert-like is bound to get a man’s attention. One of MY favorite desserts (besides cheesecake, or yogurt blended with frozen banana, which helps my pregnancy-induced indigestion) is cupcakes! I love baking them, I love decorating them (despite how frustrated I get when they don’t turn out perfectly) and I certainly love eating them. Put those things together… breakfast, dessert, cupcakes… muffins!
So I’ve started making muffins on the weekends, then wrapping them individually and freezing them. I can just pull one out in the evenings, and Matt packs it with his lunch in the morning. Since I use an equal amount of white and wheat flour, and focus on fruit muffins, I tell myself that they have some nutritional value. So far, I’ve made a batch of banana ones and a batch of strawberry ones, using frozen strawberries and vanilla yogurt. I have a several more muffin recipes, so I should be able to rotate them pretty often (even if he has to eat the same thing for breakfast all week). And to keep him engaged and interested, I’ve decided to let him pick out the next recipe. He choose the dried-cherry-and-chocolate ones.
Hey, it’s a start…
But the weekdays are a different story. I tend to have a mini Pyrex dish of granola cereal when I wake up to appease the growing girl in my tummy, then I often have a packet of whole-grain oatmeal when I am settled at work. Matt on the other hand, skips breakfast. Or had been doing so, until I realized something else about Matt’s dietary preferences.
Dessert.
Okay, who DOESN’T think dessert should have its own place as a separate daily meal? But anything dessert-like is bound to get a man’s attention. One of MY favorite desserts (besides cheesecake, or yogurt blended with frozen banana, which helps my pregnancy-induced indigestion) is cupcakes! I love baking them, I love decorating them (despite how frustrated I get when they don’t turn out perfectly) and I certainly love eating them. Put those things together… breakfast, dessert, cupcakes… muffins!
So I’ve started making muffins on the weekends, then wrapping them individually and freezing them. I can just pull one out in the evenings, and Matt packs it with his lunch in the morning. Since I use an equal amount of white and wheat flour, and focus on fruit muffins, I tell myself that they have some nutritional value. So far, I’ve made a batch of banana ones and a batch of strawberry ones, using frozen strawberries and vanilla yogurt. I have a several more muffin recipes, so I should be able to rotate them pretty often (even if he has to eat the same thing for breakfast all week). And to keep him engaged and interested, I’ve decided to let him pick out the next recipe. He choose the dried-cherry-and-chocolate ones.
Hey, it’s a start…
Monday, May 4, 2009
Busy Nesting
I’ve had a busy few weekends! Last weekend, I planted some large impatiens and some tiny white border flowers (can’t recall the name right this moment but I think it begins with an “A”) in my yard, then went to Mark’s and planted some hostas and regular-sized impatiens. My arms felt like they could fall off after that.
(Mark, I read Digital Fortress that Sunday. I’m ready for his next book now!)
Matt and I also took a trip to the Annapolis Mall to visit Pottery Barn Kids, and picked out some just-right furniture for the baby’s room. It’s simple and white and well-built. The crib can turn into a toddler bed, and the dresser can accommodate a changing tray while she’s in diapers. It’s more than I had hoped to spend, but something that should last her until she’s a teenager. We also got her the cutest bird lamp I’ve ever seen, and a Sleep Sheep.
This weekend, we had Empire Today give us an estimate for new carpet in all three bedrooms, then started to make way for the baby! We cleared out all six bookshelves in the office and moved half to the guest room and half to the basement, then painted the room a vibrant, happy peachy-orangey-pink. The white furniture is really going to pop in there! And we plan to have baby blue accents, like bedding and drapes and decorations. I can’t wait to get furniture in the room and to sit in there and rock and daydream.
Next weekend, I want to put together furniture (if we get it that early), look into getting Bob’s old rocking chair restored, go to the Goodwill and get rid of some old furniture and clothes and miscellanea, and go to the used bookstore to try to trade three boxes of books we’ve agreed to let go of in exchange for some baby books. I’ve been gathering too many youth books from our shelves, like Peter Pan and The Secret Garden, and need some baby ones. I remember loving Dr. Suess and Golden Books when I was very young; I wonder what our little girl will like...
(Mark, I read Digital Fortress that Sunday. I’m ready for his next book now!)
Matt and I also took a trip to the Annapolis Mall to visit Pottery Barn Kids, and picked out some just-right furniture for the baby’s room. It’s simple and white and well-built. The crib can turn into a toddler bed, and the dresser can accommodate a changing tray while she’s in diapers. It’s more than I had hoped to spend, but something that should last her until she’s a teenager. We also got her the cutest bird lamp I’ve ever seen, and a Sleep Sheep.
This weekend, we had Empire Today give us an estimate for new carpet in all three bedrooms, then started to make way for the baby! We cleared out all six bookshelves in the office and moved half to the guest room and half to the basement, then painted the room a vibrant, happy peachy-orangey-pink. The white furniture is really going to pop in there! And we plan to have baby blue accents, like bedding and drapes and decorations. I can’t wait to get furniture in the room and to sit in there and rock and daydream.
Next weekend, I want to put together furniture (if we get it that early), look into getting Bob’s old rocking chair restored, go to the Goodwill and get rid of some old furniture and clothes and miscellanea, and go to the used bookstore to try to trade three boxes of books we’ve agreed to let go of in exchange for some baby books. I’ve been gathering too many youth books from our shelves, like Peter Pan and The Secret Garden, and need some baby ones. I remember loving Dr. Suess and Golden Books when I was very young; I wonder what our little girl will like...
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