I'm a Fan

Things I'm lovin' right now:

• Maldon Sea Salt: I love the way the "soft white flaky crystals" feel when I pinch a bit and sprinkle it over food. At 9 bucks a box, it feels like a guilty pleasure. But it's worth every penny. Not only is the texture nice, but the taste is exponentially better than even kosher salt. Anything that makes food taste more like itself, but better, sharper, clearer is good in my book. Interestingly, the Maldon website says it has a "salty flavour." What other flavors do salts come in?
• Cookie Magazine: I cringe when I see Parenting magazine (it screams mom jeans to me). Real Simple is nice and all. But I can't help but feel like it's written for a nice mom in Minnesota who drives a mini-van and wants to de-clutter her mud room. Not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just not me. But Cookie Magazine seems to be a little more urban, a little more hip, a little more edgy. Not that I'm those things - but I do aspire to be those things and isn't that what magazine reading is all about? Admit it, you feel a bit like a rock star when you read Rolling Stone or Paste. You feel smugly superior and liberal when you read The New Yorker. And you feel like a star fucker when you read People. Back to Cookie. I love it because where else am I going to find out that the Brazilian bikini wax is out and the French is in? That there is decent women-directed porn out there -- and it's "good for couples." That there are family-friendly, non-cheesy Caribbean vacation spots. And that it is possible to find kid music that you'd actually want to listen to.
• Hanky Panky thongs: Think you don't like thongs? Try these. They are cute, sexy and comfortable. Recently some of the friends reminded me how the low-rise style is exactly what a modern girl needs to wear under her designer jeans so there's nothing peeking out when she bends over. I prefer to leave the whole thong-showing thing to cute teenagers, shameless skanks and Monica Lewinsky. Thanks to K and A who kindly gave me 2 lovely pairs for my birthday.
• Cuisinart Slow Cooker: This was my Valentine's Day present. Some might not consider this to be very romantic. (Remember that scene in Father of the Bride when Brian gives Annie a blender for their 8-month anniversary?) But I really do dig kitchen gadgets and anything that has to do with cooking. (My cast-iron frying pan might be my favorite possession.) It was sweet and thoughtful of my husband to get it (and calculating). He knows that one of my greatest regrets is having a job that rarely allows me to come home and cook the elaborate and nutritious meals I dream of. But the slow cooker lets me indulge the obsessive compulsive Type A in me -- prep and chop the night before, throw meat/veg/broth/herbs/spices together in the cooker in the morning before work, and bam! dinner is waiting for me when I get home. It also lets me indulge the gourmet in me -- recent dinners have included pulled pork bbq with Carolina sauce, lemon rosemary chicken, chili, parmesan sage pork and beer braised beef brisket. Tomorrow I'm trying slow cooked pinto beans. Maybe I won't be that into it when the weather gets warmer and lighter cooking will be more appropriate, but for now I'm happy. (Jewelry, shoes and handbags are good too.)

Should I be worried that my friends buy me lace underwear and my husband buys me a crock pot?

Happy Easter

Overheard at church this morning:

Small Child: Easter is when Jesus came out and saw his shadow.

So naturally, the hubby and I had a good chuckle over the kid's confusion between Ground Hog Day and Easter, Punxsutawney Phil and Jesus Christ.

Later on, as we attempted to leave a brunch gathering but were road-blocked by our 3-year-old who refused to put on his shoes and instead choose to run away jamming green peeps into his mouth, I hear hubby muttering and cursing "Phil H. Christ" under his breath.

More Rules

As I mentioned before, I spent the weekend in Miami with the girl friends. While we were ordering our first round of beverages at the Delano Hotel, a new rule came to me. (And for those of you not familiar, I have a running set of rules I'm collecting.)

So, without further ado:

Rule #4: If you happen to find yourself at a bar where there's a bachelorette party, turn on your heel and get the hell out of there.

And, this new one comes from E again:

Rule #5: Never eat at a restaurant that starts with the word "Captain."

Knee Deep in the Hoopla

Dear Blog -

It's been a while. I know, I know. You're tired of hearing the lame excuses about how I'm too busy now and how after spending all day at the computer for work the last thing I want to do is type another keystroke.

No more excuses. I promise. I'm gonna turn over a new leaf. I'm gonna wake up early - or steal a few minutes during the day - to fit in blogging (and exercising).

Those half-formed posts about red wine and donuts, the weekend alone with the kids, the girls' trip to Miami and the exegesis on "We Built this City." I'll finish them. Really. I will.



Talk soon,
RKC

Back To Work

Maternity leave is officially over. Today was my first day back at the office after 2 months of time off. Spent the day discussing things with other adults. Spent the day in heels and a dress...with no spit-up on either shoulder. Spent the day emailing and not changing poopy diapers.

So, with the boys peacefully in bed and the hum of the dishwasher in the background, I'd like to thank the following for making the day possible:

• Spanx: Thank you, Spanx body shaper. Your "all-the-way-up" style with added tummy support slimmed and tightened me from rib to knee and helped me feel like I was sucking it in all day long. Who really needs to know that I really haven't lost the baby weight and was basically wearing a modern-day girdle? If only I had been wearing a slip -- then mother would have been really proud.
  
• Starbucks: Thank you, Starbucks. The regular cup of coffee I had at 6:00 am at home this morning got me to the office. But the tall skim latte at 8:30 am -- what a treat! -- was what really got me hyped and jittery. You even helped me appear awake enough so folks thought I was actually paying attention when they were telling me important stuff about budgets and deadlines and projects.
• Laura Mercier concealer: Thank you, industrial-strength Laura Mercier undereye concealer. You helped me cover those dark circles and bags...and made my face look brighter -- or so the lady at the Neiman Marcus makeup counter says. Perhaps you even covered up the listless look of 69 days and counting of no REM sleep?
  
• Medela: Thank you, Medela "pump in style" breast pump. Yes, we've had a love/hate relationship in the past and it's bittersweet to rekindle the tormented relationship after a 2-year hiatus. I still don't know why you say you are "in style." I haven't seen any breast pumps on the runways lately. And I certainly don't know of any breast pumps that are definitively out of style. But that's another matter. Thanks for giving me an excuse to shut my office door every 3 hours and remember that I miss my bambino. Thanks for making that weird mee-wah mee-wah sucking sound that sometimes makes me think I'm actually hearing some little beast chant, "Me want. Me want. Me want." Thanks for allowing me to breastfeed for as long as the wee one (reasonably) chooses. And most of all, thanks for helping me sport that rack.
  

Overheard This Morning

3-year-old: "Mommy, don't leeeeave."

Me: "Sorry, buddy. I have to."

3-year-old: "Mommy, don't leeeeeeeave. You're making me really sad."

Me: "Sorry, buddy. Mommy has to go to work."

3-year-old: "Why?"

Me: "Mommy has to go to work so she can make money so you can have food and clothes."

3-year-old: "And candy?"

Me: "Yes, food and clothes...and candy."

3-year-old: "Ok, bye mom. Keep it real."

Sprinkles for Lunch

Metro ride downtown: $2.10
Dinosaur stickers, dinosaur penny and photo booth prints at National Geographic: $18.57
Krispy Kreme chocolate iced donut with sprinkles: $0.75
Letting your inner mommy nutritionist I-am-what-my-kids-eat bullshit go for the day: priceless

And they call this a family establishment?

Dessert at Buca di Beppo.

Notes from Wine Club: Red and Rusty

Inspired by a recent article in Food & Wine about Washington State Reds, we drank a few the other night when I hosted this month's wine club. Out of the 10 or so members, it was a low but cozy turnout as 5 of us ladies tasted some great blends from Hedges vineyards.

The first was the 2004 Hedges Three Vineyards (~$22), a blend of mostly cabernet and merlot from three of their vineyards in the Yakima Valley. Described as 'firm yet supple' with deep red fruit, this wine is your classic, curvy, sultry movie star - think Sophia Loren. Around town, you can find the bottle at the Tenley Whole Foods or at Calvert Woodley Liquors.

The second was the 2004 Hedges CMS Red, which at $12 bucks we decided was a very nice buy. With less tannin and softer fruit, it is the younger sister to the Three Vineyards bottle. It could also be a wine you could bring to just about any dinner party and everyone would love -- from the wine snob who didn't know it only cost $12 to the newby who's just learning to like red wine. This one was picked up at the P Street Whole Foods.

As for the actual "theme" (see previous post from January), this wine club will always be remembered as the Rusty Trombone wine club. Thank you, Wikipedia for enlightening and educating us on the intricacies of the rusty trombone. Since I'm not sure I want this blog to become X-rated, I'll just leave you with the link and sign off for now.

When Infamy is Fame

So the other day I saw some item in the Washington Post about Kim Kardashian...and then on Monday there was a Keeping Up with the Kardashian's marathon on E! And, I have to admit, I let my curiosity get the best of me. I found myself watching the show like a Beltway fender bender rubbernecker.

Is it just me, or are reality shows getting really bad? Besides the alarmingly inane events on the show -- manager mom pimping out her daughters for Playboy shoots and brokering deals with Girls Gone Wild founder Joe Francis (who's in jail), 12-year-olds pretending to do pole dances, yay-I'm-not-pregnant-inspired Vegas family vacations, etc .-- the most troublesome aspect is, Who the fuck are these people?

I mean, I consider myself fairly up on celebrity happenings. I indulge my shallow self by perusing through People magazine while waiting in line at Safeway...and always buy an US Weekly, OK! or Life & Style when traveling. (Make no mistake, though, I'd NEVER actually subscribe to any of these magazines. Still, finding comfort in a trashy magazine is a lot less fattening that finding comfort in a pint of Ben & Jerry's.) I even find myself watching E! News while I'm feeding the baby. So why don't I know who these people are, and why they'd qualify to get their own reality TV show? Don't you have to be somewhat famous to have a reality show?!

Well, I broke down. Yesterday, I went and Googled the Kardashians. I found out (thank you wikipedia) that the mother, Kris Jenner, used to be married to Robert Kardashian, who was lawyer and friend to O.J. Simpson (nice!), and is now married to Bruce Jenner, some Wheaties Olympian athlete from the 70s that my husband has heard of but I haven't. Kim Kardashian is infamous famous for a sex tape she made with Ray J. (Nice!) Her sisters and step-brothers are some mix of Hollywood socialite, celebrity stylist and reality show "star" -- Kourtney Kardashian of Filthy Rich: Cattle Drive and Brody Jenner of The Hills. Even worse, the show's executive producer is Ryan Seacreast. Blech!

So now I feel dirty. Dirty like I need to take a hot shower. Hopefully I can feel better and get back to watching more wholesome shows...like Girls Next Door.