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Moving In
Before we moved last weekend, I’d been feeling whiny about living in Boston. I wrote a friend my “honest opinion” of city life and the grumpy stuff, the month of March stuff, came out. How expensive it was. When we were apartment hunting, it felt like everything had gone up $800 from the last time we checked. How it felt like everyone in my neighborhood had nannies. The messy trash on the streets distributed by people who acted like it wasn’t their backyard they were dumping in. Sometimes it felt like having sunshine come through the windows and onto your kitchen table was a privilege only for the very rich. I was sick of accidentally buying too many groceries and carting them back on an overloaded stroller and my shoulders. I was tired of carrying Lux through the slush for six blocks when I couldn’t find parking near our apartment.
Then we moved on Saturday, the most spring-like of all the days we’ve had. I walked around with a friend, buying beer for our moving-friends, ordering five pizzas to be delivered from Upper Crust, stopping by the market to get gatorade. Friends walked over to pick up Lux and stroll her to the playground while we moved. Other than driving across the river to buy indulgent pastries from Flour, we walked from place to place, adding to our bags as we went. “Never take all this for granted,” she said, having come from Rhode Island for help for the day, “it’s fun for now.” We were diving through the packs of people making their way toward the Common to sunbath (as much as you can sunbath in jeans). Ah yes, I thought, a voice my past. What I used to know. I guess late winter does that to you.
But boy, I was ready for this apartment. We’ve been here for four days and we’ve all taken to it like ducklings to the Garden. I think Joe and I feel like we’re dating again with all this space–we have long conversations about everything we want to tell each other about our day, and then we each pick a space to get a little bit done in the evenings. Yesterday was shockingly cold and Lux and I stayed inside all day playing–a total impossibility at our old place. I don’t think we’ll ever get tired of the view, or seeing the way the city looks different with every passing hour.
Oh Happy Day has been posting about her family’s San Francisco apartment this past week. She writes that she once lived in a cheap place without sunlight for years and will never do it again. I know exactly what she means. She also (with two little boys!) picked location over space, which I find very inspiring.
I’ll post more photos once we’ve made the place feel more like home!
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Tomatoes in Somerville
Growing up on the second floor of her family’s Somerville triple-decker, Brown remembers picking and eating tomatoes right off the vine from the yard, and salting them with a shaker hanging from a piece of twine. She recalls those tomatoes sun-drying on the roof; eggplant resting under bricks; and pasta drying on laundry racks.
Love this city summer memory from the new Edible Boston issue, a free magazine available all over Boston. Non-sequitur photo from the children’s clothing line Bobo Choses. I can’t get their stuff out of my head.
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Visit: Union Square Donuts
Skirting union square, just over McGrath Highway from Boston, across the street from Target, and in an abandoned restaurant storefront lies Boston’s long awaited answer to the donut trend. Come on the weekend and you’ll probably wait in line. Come after noon and they’re very likely to be sold out. I think we can safely say Bostonians have been ready for creative donuts for a long time.
Honestly, I was up for the donuts to taste terrible. Hype, desperation, different taste in frying methods, anything could go wrong! But they were deliciously doughy, almost a sourdough, barely fried and impeccably finished. Hibiscus cherry was one of my favorites, Joe loved the honey almond. We also bought the opulently bacon-y maple bacon, chocolate chipotle (more spicy than chipotle, which I liked) and orange ginger cream. All of them were done just-so, never too much, with plenty of chewy dough to balance out the toppings.
This is strictly a to-go operation, open Thursdays-Sundays. A tiny warm storefront with the kitchen operation attached. Pick up a box to take home or on the way to brunch. We munched through all of ours in the car, and then headed to Sherman’s for some cozy coffee. Besides the maple bacon, all donuts are $3. I saw three decidedly non-hipster older men eating their donuts in the parking lot across the street and overheard, “This is worth $3, this is worth it.”
Flavors change all the time. Follow them for lots of updates!
Union Square Donuts, on Twitter.
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Good Voyage Cards
What a fun integration of quilting patterns with unexpected black silhouettes. Whoever you sent them would post it on the fridge immediately, I’m sure.
5 cards for $15 at good voyage.
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The Discovery Museum
New museums feel like Disney World these days. Better even. Joe and I can be pretty lazy when it comes to weekends in Boston, but fortunately our friends up the street invited us out early Saturday morning to see a place outside the city, The Discovery Museum.
There was something extra appealing about this one, founded in the ’80s and settled into an old Victorian house. Back when painting on the wall and building tiny tree forts meant great things would happen. They knew the power of a room full of stuffed animals, a Rube Goldberg-esque design to learn about gravity, or a wall of switches to flip and buttons to push.
I always leave public spaces for kids contemplating things we could change about our space for Lux. Introducing new textiles, or a space to drop things through tubes and, gasp, they reappear, or maybe just a spinning wheel secured to the wall. A lever here, and light switch at their level.
Though hidden under the snow now, the grounds seemed lovely as well. I think with a picnic packed you could draw out your visit here during the summer in a wonderful way.
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Tea with your snow
Five things about me. Typically I’d cheerfully decline this type of forwarded link-up, but Bridget is like my blogging godmother or something, and I just can’t do it. So here goes, a few things made more interesting by the fact that hopefully you didn’t guess them immediately:
1 I’m on Pinterest, but not really. Does it feel like
somea lot of people are incredibly good at Pinterest? Did they already have binders of carefully labeled “For the Home” sheets, and just moved everything over to the internet once the chance came along? Though digital, my folders still manage to be motley collection of half scribbled notes with no reasonable themes.2 I was raised vegetarian but my mom never really told us or made a big deal about it. Thus, I thought (vegetarian) hot dogs were really bad tasting, even though everyone else seemed to love them. I remember when my friend told me what we were having for dinner at a sleepover and I asked her what hamburgers were.
3 I broke up with Joe one month after we first starting dating because I thought he wasn’t the guy for me. I just stopped emailing/calling him back with almost no explanation. Then we didn’t date for two years. I stilllll regret hurting his feelings and being a jerk. Break-up nice, people. You never know when they might turn out to be your husband.
4 I’m really petite and when I was young it drove me crazy how everyone commented on it. Every. last. person. I soo wanted to be normal. I get it now, and I’m grateful for a fast metabolism, but I still kind of hate it when people talk about my height/weight/size. I think I’m good at meeting new people because I accustomed to quickly coming up with conversation topics that don’t involve my physical appearance.
5 I’m left handed and not-so-secretly think left handed people are superior to right handed ones. They just seem more interesting in an unpredictable way, across the board. So I’m a tiny, unreasonably bit disappointed that it looks like Lux is going to be right handed.
Please comment with at least one thing I do not know about you. And I am non-forcefully linking on. If you wish, MA ladies: Julie, Anna, Melissa, and Abbie.
these photos were taken at blogshop. Gotta use ’em up before my hair changes again, or my taste in clothes.
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Missing the Liquor
Well it’s practically March and oh my goodness do I miss cocktails.
I just finished the Dinner a Love Story cookbook (so good, so good, by the way) and Jenny frequently mentions her retreat to an evening gin and tonic whilst cooking, and especially while cooking with toddlers. Her loyal love of one good cocktail (with “only fizzy tonic”) made me like her all the more, but also made me desperate for my own.
“This is a tough time of year to live in Boston,” I announced to Joe.
“I think it’s a tough time of year to live anywhere,” he said, too moderately for my taste, especially at 8am.
“I don’t think it’s a tough time of year in Mexico.”
Joe gave up alcohol and coffee for Lent, which is extremely noble. I pretended to dither about it, but really I can’t give up another thing. Pregnancy is lent, as my dear friend and priest’s wife so nicely pointed out. Last night with the doulas we discussed what a mysteriously big baby Lux was (9lb 10 oz) and I blamed it on a protein shake I drank a lot while pregnant with her. “And no white sugar or white flour?” one asked. My mind blanked as I searched for something I was currently eating that wasn’t comprised mostly of white sugar and white flour. “Uh well, a lot of pasta,” I said lamely. “A lot of macaroni and cheese,” I clarified. “Oh.” she said. I mentally scratched off a few more items to feel confident about when eating.
My twenty-three-year-old brother Leighton offered to not drink for my entire pregnancy if, I also, did not drink. Imagine the audacity.
Like most modern conversation topics, whether you drink or do not drink is treated as a highly personal decision that one makes for themselves based on highly personal feelings. The conclusions on whether the fetus is affected by occasional drinking are bounced back and forth between opponents like a swinging ping pong game. Nonetheless, if you visit an OB office in America, a nurse will probably say something along the lines of “It seems silly to say, but of course you’re not drinking?”
Leave it to family to cross the safe line of modernity’s “It’s your decision, not mine!” politeness. I took him up on his offer because it was so thoughtful. This is a kid who, at the time, probably got a safe quarter of his weekly calories from beer. I couldn’t resist his offer of co-denial in its sheer chumminess…and because of a slew of other implications that seemed to lie within it.
It seemed implied, for example, what kind of barbarian was I? If he could go without a glass of wine now and then, why couldn’t I do it? In the past, a tiny part of me admired women who completely abstained, but a larger part of me held them off as a little juvenile. Like, if everyone’s having mimoas at brunch, is it really necessary to wave your hand and insist on only orange juice for yourself?
But it was pointed out to me by my dear, over-curious family (keep in mind I’m the first one to have a baby among them) that to decide to drink simply to satisfy my rebellious counter-cultural francophile streak was absurd indeed.
True that.
So I think I’ve texted him a total of five times for exceptions to our plan, i.e., very special occasions. Five drinks in 22 weeks is certainly a more moderate environment than Lux abided in. Soak it up, baby, and let’s see it in the SAT scores in 18 years, ok?
February 28th and it’s bleak folks, bleak! There are still small slumps of snow on the street, each protectively harboring its own disgusting pile of soggy trash. Mmm, this looks delicious, Lux says, as she picks through each one like a little alley urchin.
Mercifully we were at Formaggio Kitchen this morning for coffee and they had piled up a basket of the darkest cinnamon bread loaves I’d ever seen. You know how you want cinnamon bread, not some-bread-etched-with-cinnamon? This was it. As a rule Lux doesn’t eat bread (white carbs, Mom! she says reproachfully) but we both tore off hunks and ate it as we walked.
We’ll get through this yet.
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Booked!
I mentioned that we were using the addictively clickable airbnb to find a spot in Rome. Well, I quickly became overwhelmed by the options and let Joe take over. After a couple of late nights, he found this spot and we booked it! It’s the location we wanted, Campo di Fiori, a one bedroom (4th floor walk up, gulp) with a crib, and the perfect patio. It was important to us that we’d be comfortable just staying in most nights since Lux will probably go to bed early.
This patio + salami + extra candles = best restaurant in town.
I appreciate that things like a full kitchen and free wifi are assumed with apartment rentals. It’s amazing how hotels sound so lovely when it’s just the two of you, but with a rambunctious kiddo the space of an apartment seems so much more relaxing.
The only sad part for me with a rental v. hotel, and this is just silly, is that you have to go hunting for your breakfast. I’ve been using Elizabeth Minchilli’s Eat Rome app to scout out relaxed bars nearby for breakfast.
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Early Pregnancy Champions
1. I probably eat a box of this a day. This bunny-themed version is a cheerful pink and for unspecified reasons has been on sale at grocery stores across the city for the last two weeks. And yes, I’ve legitimately considered buying stock in Annie’s Natural Foods.
2. Local pickles. You can taste the dill and horseradish in these. “Let’s just have pickles for dinner,” I called to Joe. “Yup, you’re pregnant” he called back.
3. One thing Boston does really well is the Sub Shop. If people ask if I have cravings, I say “yes, pizza and sub sandwiches.” Of course we all know that all humans crave pizza and sub sandwiches. Which is why the industry created the word “crave.” Now you can justify it biologically!
4. Local peanut butter, but it’s my favorite brand because it is the best flavor. My position is don’t bother with the flax seed enhanced stuff. That research is suspicious and it taints the flavor.
5. My favorite with everything–the macaroni and cheese, the Market Basket ruffle potato chips that I go through a bag of on a weekly basis, honey, scrambled eggs… There is NO reason to buy any version besides the Total full fat. I wish that 2% junk would stop crowding the shelves.
6. Is it just me or is the grapefruit super good this year? I end up just drinking the juice because Lux likes to eat the whole fruit and I don’t mind splitting that type of stuff.
Note that none of these involve cooking. Coincidence? Um, no.
ps: I found these snack ideas totally eye opening.
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Television for the downer
Frankly I’m a little annoyed with the depressing turn Downton Abbey has taken. And GIRLS. Even the new Community is sort of ick. Cheer up, drama writers! Take a nice sunny Mexico vacation and get back to us. I use television watching as a retreat, a thirty minute lapse into relaxation after a long day. It’s not good when that thirty minutes ends with me feeling more depleted than ever.
Soo I was delighted to finally watch something a little optimistic, something that said: let’s believe in the fantastical. About someone who could think of people outside himself. A true story and a real one, and a breathtaking one. We rented the documentary Searching for Sugar Man over the weekend and it was all of those things. Rent it (it’s $4 on iTunes). You’ll love it.
Have you watched anything cheerful and spirited lately? I’d love some ideas.
