to my granddaughters

Someday, hopefully a little while off, I'll have grandchildren. And maybe I'll be lucky enough to get a granddaughter or two. I hope so.

The three things I look forward to as a senior citizen are, in this order: One, being able to carry a little dog around in my purse. Two, having tea parties with my grand kids, with real shortbread cookies and pink lemonade. And three, discounts.

I would also like these grandchildren that I'm planning on having to know what I was like at thirty-four. I want them to know that I think life is hard. And fun. And overwhelming. And amazing. And confusing.

I don't know much. Seriously. I am amazed on a daily basis at my pure ignorance regarding so many things. But there are a few things that I have down pat. Things that I know for sure.

To my granddaughters,

Hello my darlings! I hope I'm not dead when you are reading this. But if I am, rest assured that I am upstairs enjoying myself. I'm probably eating chocolate covered cherries. If I could pick up the phone and call you from the year 2009 and give you little bits of wisdom that I have collected, this is what I would say.

Ring. Ring.

Marry a work horse not a stallion. What really matters happens when no one is watching.

When disciplining your children, never take away an opportunity they will never have again.

Always wear a good bra, it can make all the difference.

To enhance your powers of persuasion, become a good cook.

Kiss your children while they are sleeping and try to hold on to the memory of these moments.

Call your husband by a pet name, even in an argument.

The only friends worth having are the kind that will tell you when you have something stuck in your teeth.

Don't complain about someone you love to someone who doesn't love them as well.

Save your strong opinions for your closest friends and blog.

Some of the most interesting people you will ever meet will be found in a book. Read.

fungus among us

Every once in a while, I come across a recipe so absolutely perfect for my family that it goes into regular rotation. The January edition of Martha had a recipe for leek, mushroom and chicken casserole that I tried and have determined is worthy of cheffing up at least once a month. I'm not including a photo, only because, well, it's kind of ugly. This girl was brave enough to post the recipe and photos on her blog, but, like I said, it's not so photogenic.

Now I know that there are those of you out there that do not like mushrooms. To you I say, I am sorry for your affliction. It's a little like being allergic to shell fish. No lobster? Quelle est la vie ?

But I digress. Back to the recipe. I didn't have any leeks so I substituted shallots. I was also plumb out of sherry so I used white wine. I think you could tweak this recipe here and there to suit your tastes and it would be great. Don't, however, leave out the mushrooms.

Did you know that people pay thousands (and by thousands, I mean hundreds of thousands, $330,000 to be exact) for fungi? A giant truffle was auctioned off in late 2007. A Macau casino owner, Stanley Ho, made the record-breaking bid for the white truffle, which weighed 3.3lbs.

You can still enter to win the Go Girl. I'll pick a winner on Friday.

wet ankles

I'm banking on the assumption that most, if not all, of my readers are women. Not once have I had a comment from a man. Then again, maybe the men are a little too macho to leave a kiss, kiss, hug, hug, exclamation point sort of message somewhere.

Anyhow- I would like to share a little pet peeve I have about womanhood. Wet ankles.

You know when you are out in the woods and you have to go, so you hike a ridge or two or three to make sure no one sees, then you squat, freak out because you heard a sound which you are sure is a snake and without fail you end up with wet ankles? I hate that.

How about when you are trouncing around the wilds of your local shopping mall and you go to the women's room only to be meet with revolting filth? Of course if there is a Nordstrom's you can find a clean bathroom, but the other ones are very sketchy.

Need I mention gas station bathrooms? Gas station bathrooms with a small daughter that has to go? Ewwww. It makes my skin crawl.

Ladies I have found a solution.

Basically, Go Girl is a little plastic device that you can use to stand up and go, like a boy. It is disposable and small enough to fit in your purse. I could try to explain the system myself, but if you click on over to Go-girl.com you can get the full scoop.

I spoke with Sarah Dillion, the President of Go Girl, and she said that since they released their product in January the response has been amazing. She is getting calls from around the globe.

The promo crew has been bee bopping around in the Go Girl Mini promoting the product and having a ball.

Here's the deal.

If you leave a comment, you will be in the drawing for your own Go Girl to try and a Go Girl t-shirt. Two winners will be picked.

Here's to cleaner, easier bathroom breaks.

One thought though:

You may not want to go in a stall next to some other girl. It might freak her out to see your cute little pumps or flip flops facing the toilet. The last thing you need is to be arrested and frisked by some mall cop.

Winners will be announced on Friday!

where the hell are the underoos?

Seriously. What happened to them? What fool decided to pull the plug on Underoo production? I'd really like to know. I'd march right up to him (for surely it is a him, because any woman would know better) and poke him in the eye.

I can't believe my son will go through his childhood without knowing the magic that is Underoos.

I did find this site that claims that they are still being sold, but I haven't seen them. Evidently there are adult Underoos available, but not the benign child sizes.

For shame.

Wearing Underoos as an adult is a little, well, warped. Grow up people.

If you want to play superhero as an adult, there are more mature ways to go about it.

Like this site that my good friend Mic found. Go ahead. Click on over and make yourself into the superhero you always wanted to be. I bet you can't resist.

Here's Ben as:

And my alter ego:

Oh and we really look like that in spandex. Promise.

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I've always been ridiculously fair when I choose a winner for Suaviloquy giveaways. I always use the random number picker and even at the pleading of my family members, I don't cheat.

This time I'm employing my right as author of this blog to choose a winner. It had to be done.

Jill and I go way back to the ghetto days. We were both living in the arm pit of the world, working obscene hours as our husbands toiled away in law school. Jill's an infertile Myrtle too. We have crouched in the fox hole of childlessness and poverty together. We are blood sisters.

Last year Jill and her husband were chosen by a birth mother. They went through the whole pregnancy with this girl and at the hospital, after Jill had cuddled this child in her arms, the birth mother decided to parent. Which is her right, but still.

Much anguish ensued.

But that Jill is a resilient one. She picked herself up and moved forward. A couple of weeks ago she called to tell me that another birth mother has decided to place her baby girl in their home. You can see the video, where Jill tells her other children the good news, here.

I pick Jill to win this giveaway. I think she deserves it. Don't you?

sea fairing

The day started as most wonderful days start. We slept in.

A quick trip to Trader Joe's produced a package of havarti, spicy salami, a baguette, soda water and two blue balloons. We made sure to procure a menagerie of the world's best cupcakes from Elizabethan Desserts the night before, so we were ready to roll.

Or row, as it were.

We set sail at half past eleven.

The peanut gallery waved bon voyage.



We nagged the first and second mate to please stay away from the edge over and over, then we gave up. After all, a boy has never died from a little chilly salt water. Live and learn.


Besides, we had cupcakes to eat.



The wind gently coaxed our little vessel through the lapping waves. The sails snapped like sheets on the line. We talked and laughed and licked the frosting from our fingers.

Every once in a long while, a day will come along. The perfect day, spent with just the right people, breathing just the right air, eating just the right things.

A person might only get a handful of these days in their life. Surely they are divvied out sparingly.

Yesterday was one of those days.

I'm thankful for it.

I'll pick a winner for Friday's post tomorrow. Just leave a comment.

sugar and spice

My mom circa 1950 and her little cousin, Paulette. Evidently, sharing did not come naturally to her.

A toddling little girl is a centre of common feeling which makes the most dissimilar people understand each other.
-- George Eliot

Little girl stuff makes me melt. Seriously. Melt.

I bought this handmade jacket on Etsy a little while ago. It is made from a vintage table cloth.

My mother-in-law knitted this sweet little sweater for me from a Hadley Fierlinger pattern. She used the softest Debbie Bliss casmerino yarn. I just need a little pixie to put it on.

If you are so blessed to have a little girl patting around in your house, you must, must, must click over to Mountain Aven Baby and have a look around. I meet Blair through Etsy and everything she makes is absolutely adorable for girls and boys.

Blair is giving away a $25 gift certificate to one lucky winner who leaves a comment. She is also having a big sale! Go! Go now and have a look!

And everyone knows a cute outfit requires cute bows to go with it. So. . .

Let me just introduce you to the maven o' cute hair babbles, Amy. Amy owns and runs Flowerzinherhair.com. Here's what she had to say about her work:

"I love the business aspect as well as creating things. So when I started making bows, and headbands, it became a great outlet for both my business side and my creative side. I have been making bows and selling them for about 3 years.

I bought flowerzinherhair.com at the beginning of this year from a remarkable woman that I was able to spend a lot of time with. She taught me some valuable things from her style of bow making and the technical aspects of running a website. I was able to merge her ideas with my own and create a website that I am really proud of, and more than anything, I absolutely love love love what I do."

Amy is also offering a $25 gift certificate and 10% off to Suaviloquy readers. Her bows are very affordable and I swear she has a billion different styles. Check out her site.

You know the drill- leave a comment and be in the drawing for both gift certificates. One comment per person please. No sneaky stuff. I know all the tricks. I've tried them myself.

I'll announce the winner on Monday!

cronies

companion; partner; comrade; crony; confidant; ally;compeer; peep; playmate; chum; cobber; buddy; associate; colleague; confrere; compatriot; consociate; cohort; mate; friend

I asked Jenny what she thought of a baby name I like. She said it sounded like a hillbilly name, but it didn't matter because any name I choose she would eventually love.

We were on a run. We have great talks when we run together. We once ran a half marathon together. Jenny wanted to stop running at mile eleven. I told her no, just keep running. When the finish line came into view, she sprinted ahead and crossed before me.

I forgave her for that. Mostly.

Another time we went on vacation and she took care of the cat while we were away. He pooped and peed all over the place and Jenny had to deal with it. I should just mention that she DOES NOT like animals.

She forgave me. Kind of.

There was also the time I didn't make it to her daughter's baptism.

Still paying for that one.

The very best time spent with Jenny is when we say nothing at all. Every year we while away our summers at the beach. We arrange our chairs arm to arm and stretch out our legs. We read fashion magazines and eat snacks. And if something interesting happens to walk by, we don't speak. We just tilt our sunglasses and give the "look".

With us, words are superfluous.

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Here's a little peek at what I have been working on at my bench. I have been thinking about adding to my adoption line for some time now. I finally came up with the perfect piece.

Inscribed in Latin: "Auxilio Ab Alto" (with help from on high)

It's very simple and very wearable. Of all the pieces I have created, this one most closely reflects the feelings in my heart regarding adoption. I hope other people feel the same.

It will be part of the adoption line, however, I think most of my adoption piece can be used in other ways. For example, this ring could be given as a good luck gift to anyone starting a new endeavour.

I'm not sure when the spring collection will be available. Hopefully by the first part of April.

beautiful boy

I'm not one to gush. Sure I'm a proud mom. Like everyone else, I secretly think my kid is the cutest, funniest most charming of all children. But I don't gush.

Mostly because, well, it's just not that interesting to other people, except maybe my mom.

But today, I must. I must gush. I'm in the mood and I'm going with it.

When Thom was first born he looked like a little old rabbi. He had jet black hair and a pointy nose. I thought, my word, I've given birth to a Baal Torah.

Then he puffed up into this chubby little butterball and I thought, my word, this child is fun to pinch!
Then he grew and became the skinny twig boy he is today. The only pinchable place on his entire body are his four cheeks. Even those make for meager pinching these days.

As if to make up for my disappointment in regards is his pinchabilty, Thom has become a budding artist. He always knows just the right thing to twang my heart and make me proud.

Here is his latest installation piece hanging in his class room. It was a collaborative effort with his good friend Ethan. If you can't tell, those are M&M men.

At night, before I go to bed, I sneak into his room. I kneel by his bed and listen to him breath. His rocketship nightlight glows green, then blue, then red. The stars on his ceiling are fading and seem far away.

This is where I like to say my prayers. This is where I thank the Lord for everyday I have been given with my funny, skinny, charming little boy.

sick and tired

On Sunday, Ben was sick and I was tired.

I didn't sleep well the night before. I tossed and turned with my brain mechanisms all amuddle and gooped. The projectionist upstairs kept replaying the same wakeful dream over and over till it was all scratched and I couldn't make out the characters. I awoke with a pasty mouth and dark eyes.

The sky looked like black pearls.

I showered because, well, showering always makes a person feel better. Thomas did not shower. Nor did the grizzly bear.

I puttered. A little fertilizer for the African violet. A little blog reading. A little time snipping off the errant carpet fibers.

And then I did one of my most favorite of all things to do. I cooked on a cloudy day, in a warm kitchen while my hound dog slept at my feet. And I listened to Chinese lullabies.

I made tomato basil soup.

At two in the afternoon, I called my boys to come eat. They shuffled in, hair askew pajamas wrinkled. Thom had the haired look of a mad scientist. He had been constructing intricate race tracks for hours. The grizzly grunted.

We sat at the bar sipping our soup and dipping crackers like the three bears from Goldilocks.

This is how, slowly, ever so slowly, we whittled away the hours of a dark day, in a cozy home on a quiet street.

shop girl

Shop Girl by Heidschoetter

One little vice never hurt anyone. Mine just happens to be shopping. I'm not neurotic about it. I don't have closets stashed full of bags of unopened, unworn items. I don't run up credits cards or buy things way out of my price range. I don't shop everyday. It's not an issue. I have it under control.

I think.

But the fact of the matter is that it does make me feel happy. I love to browse the sprawling make-up counters at Nordies. I sniff the perfumes while I nonchalantly gawk at the eccentric Mac employees. I run my fingers over each item that catches my eye. I try on hats and shoes that I would never buy.

For me, shopping is like eating ice cream. It's so much nicer with a friend. I am a social shopper. It's kindof like a social drinker only better. Instead of a designated driver, I need someone reel me in when my "eclectic" sense of style gets a little over board for church on Sunday.


I have never owned a pair of spectators. I think now is the time.

I will own this gorgeous gauzy tunic. If I have to sew and embroider it myself, I will have it.


Hummm, if only I could sew. I guess I just need to do some shopping around. I'm quite positive I can find something very similar. Shopping is one thing I'm pretty good at.