I stole this from our brother Corban.
It's lovely.
Premal and I sneaked away to Florida for a quick 24 hours
over the weekend. Rohan, my brother in-law, is in his first year of medical school near Tampa, and we wanted to be there to cheer him on at his white coat
ceremony (the allure of a brief escape from the frigid north we call home had nothing to do with our decision).
The trip was short, but we packed it to capacity. There was the ceremony, a trip to the beach and an art fair, walks around Tampa and Sarasota, we caught some live music, watched the sunset (and rise) over the ocean, and of course, a lot of great food. Oh! I almost forgot that we even managed to squeeze in a couple of overs at a pick-up cricket match. Dreamy.
In fact it was so dreamy that I was hit by a sfit of inspiration during my time in the sun. And so, I give you, my
TOP 5 Vitamin D Binge Induced
(perhaps obvious, but seemed groundbreaking at the moment)
Revelations:
1) Cricket is my kind of sport—Premal looks preeeeeeeetty fine when he bowls, and they have tea breaks, and Americans think I'm fancy when I know stuff about the sport. WIN.
2) All of the stereotypes regarding retirees in Florida are 100% true. Never before have I seen so many saucy septuagenarians
3) My brother in-law has never had a sister, so I get to spend all my time with him making up for his 23-years of sad sisterless-ness. So much unsolicited advice regarding fashion/girls, so little time!
4) Trips to warmer climates in the dead of winter are amazing.
5) 24-hours is totally enough time for a micro-vacation, so if you're hankering for one, just go for it!
I was about six. Construction forced us into the tiny carriage house behind our old home on Zenobia Street. Our French teacher, Leslie, was over and we were were making cream puffs. I remember how counter intuitive the dough seemed -- you cooked it on the stove before putting it in the oven. As we waited for the buttery pastries to bake, work began on something else. The insides of a vanilla bean was scraped. Eggs, milk, cream and sugar were combined, cooked and coalesced into a custard of mythical status. I will never forget biting into that rich, airy, balloon of creamy, fluffy wonder. But for some reason, until Thursday, that was the last time I made a cream puff.
 |
| Serene. Sublime. Lemon Ginger Blueberry Cream Puffs on a painted table (I love to paint furniture) with other pretty random stuff... |
Fast forward. Thursday was my one year second transplant anniversary. We didn't want to do anything big, but Yoni was pretty intent on making a lung shaped cake. This was a little too literal a celebration for my taste. After careful thought, I remembered Yoni had once made eclairs. So why not cream puffs with blueberries? I realized we could add ginger and lemon to the custard after it set and have something really spectacular. As I piped the cream into the cream puffs, we had some unexpected visitors: Pirate Phin and Princess Hetti turned Yoni into a cake with sprinkes. Meanwhile, Kimber introduced The Willabeast to custard. A knock at the door revealed Liberty and Premal with five &pizza pies. We're moving next week, so the house was a wreck, but the company and the evening was nothing less than magical.
 |
| One Puff, Two Puff, Three Puff, Four Puff, Five Puff; Pirate Phin; Liberty, The Willabeast and Kimber; Princess Hetti and Pirate Phin with Yoni Cake and Sprinkles; Custard and Blueberries; The Willabeast takes her first bite of custard... I think we might have weened her... |
PPS. Other fun news, thanks for going to see my TEDxMidAtlantic talk last week! It seems the folks at the TEDblog did the same thing and yesterday my talk went up here. Thank you so much for all of your support! You guys are awesome!
I've been busy lately -- moving cross country; finally settling into our crazy house; teaching Hettie to read, Phineas to use the potty and Willa to abstain from biting other humans with her three genuine teeth. You know, the regular stuff. But hectic times call for quality procrastination. And I've been blessed in that department, too.
My beloved congregation here (which is also Charity's) is in the middle of a really wonderful service project: collecting handmade hats for the kids at D.C. Children's Hospital Oncology Unit. The goal is to make at least 500 by mid-March. My crafty alter-ego doesn't get too many chances to come out and play, but my little fingers have been busily crocheting for the last several weeks, whenever I happen to find a free moment without a kid or a dirty dish or a moving box in my hands. And if I use a big enough hook, I can bang out a chunky little topper in one episode of Downton Abbey or a round trip drive to our brother's house in the suburbs (but only if Dave is doing the actual driving part...). It's done a marvelous job keeping my hands and heart toasty during this miserable cold snap.
If you would like to join in this really meaningful effort, I would be SO grateful -- and I promise you'll feel great. Hats need to be brand new, never worn, for kids ages 2-18 (with the greatest need for 8-13-year-olds). These are very sick kids, and it makes them happy to receive something made especially for them. Beyond that, there aren't any restrictions on the style or material -- we have knitters, loomers (is that a word?), sewers, sending hats from all over. If you (or a zealous group of friends!) would care to join us, please let me know and I'll send you all the details!
My beloved congregation here (which is also Charity's) is in the middle of a really wonderful service project: collecting handmade hats for the kids at D.C. Children's Hospital Oncology Unit. The goal is to make at least 500 by mid-March. My crafty alter-ego doesn't get too many chances to come out and play, but my little fingers have been busily crocheting for the last several weeks, whenever I happen to find a free moment without a kid or a dirty dish or a moving box in my hands. And if I use a big enough hook, I can bang out a chunky little topper in one episode of Downton Abbey or a round trip drive to our brother's house in the suburbs (but only if Dave is doing the actual driving part...). It's done a marvelous job keeping my hands and heart toasty during this miserable cold snap.
 |
| Can you guess which yarn Hettie picked? I suppose if she loves it, some other 4-year-old might, too :-) |
Q: Several years ago, my mother bought me a winter coat with a detachable faux fur collar. I loved the coat, and wore it out until it became threadbare (I wore it mostly without the collar, as it wasn't very comfortable). As I was about to let it go, I looked at its fabric content. Much to my surprise, the collar was not made of faux fur. In fact, it was a full fledged fur.
*Dog* fur.
I'm a bit horrified, but not sure what to do. I mean, from a sustainability perspective, I guess dogs are in a similar boat as cows. That said, I have a sweet puppy of my own who I love dearly and, well, the collar matches her coat far too closely for me not to see her on a belt buckle when I look at the collar . . .
So here is my conundrum. What should I do with the fur? I don't want to be near it, but tossing it doesn't feel right, either. I'd appreciate your advice!
*Dog* fur.
I'm a bit horrified, but not sure what to do. I mean, from a sustainability perspective, I guess dogs are in a similar boat as cows. That said, I have a sweet puppy of my own who I love dearly and, well, the collar matches her coat far too closely for me not to see her on a belt buckle when I look at the collar . . .
Thanks,
Con-fur-icted
As:
Kimber (Speechless. But not actually. She is, after all, a Tillemann-Dick...): Wow. This is a doozy. It's no secret that I'm not exactly a dog lover. But, though I occasionally feign murderous intentions towards our own two little furballs, Cruella Deville I am not. And I find this whole thing deeply troubling. It's the kind of honest mistake I can see myself making -- the memory of which would haunt me for the rest of my life. Unfortunately, there's not much you can do to make things better for the dog. So I say you protect yourself. Do what you can to appease your troubled mind. Give the little collar a proper burial, in a gold-spray-painted shoebox under a dogwood tree. Read some Rudyard Kipling and sing All Things Bright and Beautiful, before you thank it for service given and lay a few daisies on the fresh grave. And then sign yourself up for some therapy....
Charity (Couture Warrior): Aaaag! The joy and horror or cultural difference. If one thinks about this in an entirely rational way, we have crazy double standards. Kid skin gloves are fine, baby cow and piglets are delicacies as is eating, wearing and abusing any other number of adorable, sweet creatures. If you wear leather shoes, you should be at peace with a doggie collar. BUT ... if you do, PETA will use your old fur for anti-fur fashion shows (sounds a little scary) or donate them to homeless shelters. And if anyone could really use a fur coat or collar, I think it's probably someone who is outside a LOT.
Liberty (Voodoo Guru): Have you ever seen one
of these? I’m not sure where why people buy them, but they were in
most of the old church ladies homes growing up, and if my memory serves me
correctly, Shiloh was gifted a couple of them on a least one occasion. So, here’s
the idea. Since the swatch resembles your pooch so perfectly, what better way to
honor her than by recreating your pet out of real pelt!
Your new toy—I’ll call
her “Patches” or maybe “Scrappy”—can be used in a variety of ways. First, if
away on travel, Scrappy can serve as a comforting reminder of your fuzzy pal
back home. Second, you could try to work some voodoo magic, and employ it as a medium
for teaching/disciplining/exercising your pooch. Puppy’s having a hard time socializing
with other dogs? No problem! Just sit your pup-proxy down at the dog park and
let the comradic energy flow through Scrappy to your bitchy-bitch at home and
infuse her with positive communal energy. Or if the weather’s lousy and Fido
needs a walk, simply drag Patches around the house on a string for a while and
your pooch will be pooped in no time! Patches the puppy-proxy is sure to cure
your fur conundrum!
But of course if she
doesn’t, you can always donate the collar to a Goodwill or something. It will
get the bad karma off your hands, and the purchaser of the secondhand-skin will
be blissfully unaware of its slightly cringe-inducing nature.
Mercina (Empathetic): First, you should know that I understand, really quite deeply, what you're going through. When I was three, my grandparents gave me a beautiful little suede pinafore. It was so pretty, covered in hand appliqued hearts and embroidery. Well, I really loved the pinafore, until I learned what it was made of. One day I asked a certain zealous vegetarian sister *cough* Charity *cough* why my dress was so soft and learned it was because it was made of "dead cow." I don't think I ever recovered, and have been a vegetarian ever since....
I agree that throwing away the collar seems wrong. But I don't think you'll be able to stomach wearing it. Perhaps re-purposing it is a better plan? And maybe, because it's so cold right now, and because the thing matches your pup's fur so well, you could get creative? Dog sweater with dog fur collar! Is that so very wrong? Honestly, I don't know. This one is kind of morally dumbfounding for me. But if it keeps your doggy warm, maybe those puppies didn't lose their fur in vain?
Glorianna (Dog Wear Dog): First of all, click here. It's sad that someone saw more in dear Spot's pelt than in his adorable antics and unyielding loyalty, but it happened. What you can do about it now is to honor Spot by using his former stuff to its fullest. If, as you said, the fur matches/coordinates with your own sweet pup-pup's coat, give it to her as an accessory. As illustrated to us by this adorable Petsmart ad -- as well as these ridiculous pictures -- lots of dogs don't mind an accessory or two, and maybe the spirit of the fur collar can live vicariously through your beloved, well-cared for doggy. As an added bonus, your dog will be really hardcore and intimidating if she regularly wears the fur of another dog like a trophy. Like, no other dogs will ever want to screw with her. And what more could someone ask for than a ton of posthumous street cred?