Kev leaves for work and comes home to find a more grown up version of Hal. At least that’s what he says 2.5 days out of the week. Of course, I can’t see it because I’m with her half the day. We don’t live near our extended family. Mostly because we’ve yet to convince them to trade in the south for the north. But Summer’s let us enjoy their company. From each appendage of our extended family, usually on the first day of our visit, I get the same question. “Are you a vegetarian now?”
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When Kev decided he wanted to become a psychologist, before he took any classes or practiced therapy, he wanted to work in the prison system. This didn’t come as much of a surprise to me. He volunteered at a nearby prison throughout college. He told me he wanted to reduce recidivism. “Recidi-what?” I said. Recidivism is the relapse of criminal behavior after previously serving time. It’s the boomerang effect. Like poverty. Like a lot of touchy subjects that seem too messy to touch. Read more
Shattered flaky thin crust. Handheld pizza. Familiar. The crack of a perspiring can. Crisp white wine. Obligatory cheers. New. Wrinkled white tablecloth. Unpretentious picnic table. Collected flowers. Random vases. Unbreakable plates. Just right. Read more
The sprinkler runs as we try to salvage our patchy lawn. First time homeowners. Seizing the opportunity, she puts on her swimsuit. I’m glad I skipped buying that $7.99 kiddie pool at Target. It would have been a better mold-grower and debris-collector anyways. She runs a miles worth up and down the driveway, dripping wet, under the canopy of droplets that touch the rays of sun before landing on her. Then the tears show up. I look for blood from the inevitable stubbed toe. Nothing. Read more
With the rest of the world, I’ve always been a little smitten with Ina Garten. Mostly for her ability to pack up everything she’s just made into those perfect plastic containers before meeting Jeffrey at the beach. That’s where she cloaks the sand with a beautiful blanket and speckles it with the prepared food that’s somehow still warm. Is it the magic of TV or Ina? Ina does picnics like no one else.
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He washes our clothes and shrinks my shirts. Not on purpose, of course. He works all week and teaches at night. He’s determined to payoff his grad school loans faster than he accrued them. His work socks leave dents in his legs which can only be seen as he mows the lawn after work. He’s the CEO (Chief Email Officer) of this site because I’m so debilitatingly right brained. In the words of Hallie, “He’s the best daddy.” Because he is. His fatherly intuition is stronger than mine. He wakes up first and goes to bed last. He forces me to talk when I’m mad. He knows the bitter conversations are the only way to get to the sweeter ones. So in honor of Father’s Day, we’ve worked just as hard to perfect our fluffy pancake recipe. For him. Because he’s been eating my thin whole wheat pancakes all these years without a complaint. Or without much of one. Read more
The best things in life are usually accidents first. Like the time I went out for arepas, and they gave me aioli instead of chimichurri for dunking my yucca fries. “No worries,” I said as they brought out the other. And because the aioli was still on my plate, I decided to take the fries in a dip of each. That’s when I landed on the best sauce of my life—Chimichurri Aioli. Herby, zesty, tangy, creamy. All the right things in one vessel instead of two. Read more
If you have kids or if you live in a state with blustery winters, you know the importance of a mudroom. It’s a place to catch the mess before scattering throughout the house. The purses and backpacks, the shoes and snow boots, the gloves and mittens, the wine bottles and cleaning supplies. It’s hard to invest money on seemingly trivial square footage. But a room acting as the gatekeeper of the house, well, you can’t put a value on that. It’s invaluable. It’ll make or break you. Read more
