A lovely present

At home I park my car underneath the shady canopy provided my a ginormous Bradford pear tree. The tree is home to many happy little birds. The birds truly enjoy sitting in the tree on branches that hover directly over my car. On any given morning I can walk out to the old honda and see about 10 or so splotches of white feces provided by my friends, the birds.
This morning I saw the usual white splotches and an additional purple blob. It is as if an owl ate an entire blueberry pie on his own and then defecated on my driver's side window. Isn't it beautiful?

Canasta

Isn’t there just something so ancient about the word ‘Canasta?’ It’s a game that members of our older generation once played, or maybe that’s just my impression of it. Perhaps there is a whole slew of 20-somethings enrolling in competitive Canasta tournaments across the nation.
But I believe the only time I’ve ever heard the game mentioned was either on a lazy afternoon on a cruise ship, in an activity listing located in a recent publication of Senior Times, and on The Golden Girls tv show. Sophia Potrillo used to go out with the girls and play Canasta just about every other episode.
Maybe I’ll plan a party where my friends and I get together for an evening of bubbly Cava, Canasta, and conversation.
Just a random thought…

The stepchild

Pinto the cat is not what you’d call likeable, per se. He’s pretty mean to all strangers. Pinto thinks he owns everything in our house, whether it is a couch, an ice cube, or a visiting child. While he feels he has the privilege of sniffing out all foreign objects that enter the house, Pinto does not believe that sharing is a two-way street. The moment a stranger gets too close to Pinto he breaks out into a lovely growl/hiss/swatting of the paws dance. It is the exact opposite of a handshake or a hug. I have to reassure all guests that Pinto is declawed.
Hubby and I met a year or so after I became the mother of Pinto the cat. So getting to know Pinto was a challenge for him. Hubby never complained though. It took about 6 months for Pinto to give in and say, okay, this guy is here to stay. It took until year 3 of marriage for Pinto to enjoy being held by hubby. It took until 2 weeks ago for Pinto to purr in front of hubby. You get my drift.
Despite all of Pinto’s flaws, hubby has been a wonderful father to this giant fur ball of a cat. He cleans out the litter box, he cleans up disgusting hairballs, and he brushes Pinto (much to kitty’s delight).
When hubby came home yesterday to find Pinto curled up asleep in his basket of clean laundry, he didn’t even get remotely annoyed or angry. In fact, I think he fell in love with the giant cat all over again.

How could you hate this little beast? I mean, what's better than cat hair smeared all over fresh, laundered clothes?!

Just look at him. His eyes say, "Go ahead, move me."

He's beautiful. And very thankful that his daddy loves him.

Maternity by Tobias Rose

Hubby and I had a pregnancy photo shoot last Tuesday with Tobias Rose, owner of Kompleks Creative in Durham. He spent about an hour and a half in the studio with us snapping tons of different poses. We got a proof sheet just a few days later, on which Tobias had narrowed the shots down to 65 or so. Hubby and I selected 12 final shots. We just got the photos back today and we are more than thrilled. I am posting only the ones I see fit for blog land. Enjoy!

Spoiled at 411 West

One of 411 West's sous chefs, Justin Fulton, invited hubby and I to feast at a 4-course chef table this evening. He prepared 4 dishes especially for us, even keeping in mind that I couldn't eat unpasteurized cheeses, rare meats, or heavy carbohydrates (due to the gestational diabetes).

Course #1

"Carb-free BLT" made of local arugula, sungold and cherry tomatoes,
lardons, and shaved Parmesan cheese

Course #2

Truffled potato herb gnocchi, local arugula, goat cheese gouda, and local shitake mushroooms

That dish was so good hubby had to sop up the juices with a dinner roll.
Look how clean his plate is.

Course #3

Grilled, marinated steak over squash puree, sauteed baby carrots and red wine reduction

Course #4

Mango sorbet, sliced pears, pear puree, and a brown sugar wafer

Nesting Mode

The nesting stage of this pregnancy has arrived, full force. Hubby is going through it along with me. Our house has never been cleaner or more organized and the baby's nursery is finally coming along. What can I say... I LOVE NESTING. I love the frenzied energy of it. I love that I finally cleaned behind the toilet in our master bathroom, even though it has nothing to do with a new baby being welcomed into the world. Hubby has become obsessed with shelving and tupperware storage units. He is darling. You really should see him in action.

Here is the nursery, in its final stages before being shredded to bits by spit-up, explosive baby poos, and projectile vomit.

The toy and book shelf. Of course this will be cleared off and immaculate in the coming weeks. And the monstrous high chair needs to find another home.

We finally got Caleb's name up on the wall. And the curtain has been hung as well. These are vital tasks that needed to get done to ensure the baby's wellbeing.

Crib is set up and in place. I still desperately want the $40 pleated turquoise crib skirt I found online. Hubby is slowly coaxing me out of it. I think I'll probably buy it anyway when he's not looking...say in about 10 minutes.
It's another one of those necessities that the baby simply will not survive without.

A quiet, peacefully slumbering baby will be lying here in a month and a half. He will sleep for hours on end and his parents will only be awoken once per night.

This closet is well-organized, despite what you may think.

Caleb's monkey towel hangers. Darling indeed.

The stocked full changing table. Exciting, I know. But look at Paxton the dog waiting outside the nursery door. He so wants to be invited inside.

A new friend

I walked outside this afternoon and saw something tiny, no bigger than a rat, flutter past on my neighbor's front porch. Turns out he and his family have welcomed their newest member, Baby. She is a mutt puppy that will get no bigger than 30 pounds, but desperately wants to be Paxton the dog's new best friend despite her minute size. She is DARLING.

And playful.

And curious.

And a little lover.

Who worships the ground Paxton poops on.

I'm glad there's a new friend in town.

Photo of the Day

New growth on my rose bush!

Untasty little morsel

My first experience with non-alcoholic beer happened last night. Hubby and I finished an excellent dinner of shrimp primavera when I decided it was time to enjoy a cold beverage, or at least fake it in non-alcoholic fashion.
I had been asking around for months for recommendations regarding non-alcoholic wines and beers; no one really had any promising answers. I heard a lot of, "it's all crap, don't drink it" or "just drink stuff with alcohol in it...that's what Europeans do."
So finally I went to Whole Foods and stumbled upon a friend of mine who happens to be the beer buyer for the store. What a wonderful job!
He and his wife just had a baby so I knew non-alcoholic beverages might be fresh on his mind. He pointed me towards the two beers they sell, neither of which were Odouls. The Clausthaler sounded great – a German beer with just a hint of cider flavor. It seemed like a dream come true.
But then I tasted it last night. Well, first I smelled it. That was my first misstep, as it smelled like really bad beer. I wanted something tasty and special, something worth sipping on. This smelled like cheap, let-me-get-drunk-fast beer. It had just slightly more flavor than a Coors Light. I would drink it poolside on a hot, sticky afternoon in mass quantities, and only if it had alcohol in it.
If anyone has another suggestion, please send it my way. For now, I'll indulge in chocolate instead.

Deep wounds

Being the wife of a chef isn’t all fun and games. Sure I get excellent meals created for me at my beck and call. And sure I have learned so, so much about the intricacies of cooking. But the hours are long and the weekends are usually taken up with work and there are always fires to put out at the office so that even when hubby is off the clock, he’s not really.
One of the worst parts of being a chef’s wife is getting phone calls from work in which hubby is informing me of his newest kitchen injury. These could range from a hot oil burn that blisters half his arm to a back sprain from lifting heavy boxes in dry storage to a deep, bloody gash from a sharp knife. I’ve heard horror stories of cooks losing hands and fingers on crazy kitchen equipment, so I should consider myself lucky that last night’s phone call was only about a cut.
Hubby called yesterday afternoon to inform me that he was at the hospital. I breathed a deep breath and thought to myself, perhaps he had to drive an employee there. Aren’t I selfish!
That wasn’t the case. Hubby was filleting fish and for a split second stopped paying attention and his very sharp knife ended up in the fleshy palm of his hand. He said it barely hurt but that it wouldn’t stop bleeding, and then decided to drive himself to UNC Hospitals. Men are indeed brilliant creatures.
I met him there after an hour or more of waiting room splendor and he had already been moved to a private room to wait some more. The hand was still bleeding but he insisted he was in no pain. Eventually some nurses and a doctor tended to his wounds and treated him with a tetanus shot, some antibiotics, and two sutures. I’m not going to lie – this was pretty fun to watch. And hubby took it like a champ.
But please, please, please hubby be more careful at work.

Hubby about to get stitched up

Hubby with hand intact and grotesque blood stain on hospital bed beside him

Feeling lucky

Hubby and I are feeling very fortunate right now. We just returned from a wonderful trip to Morganton to celebrate my dad’s birthday and to attend our baby shower for Caleb. I can’t even begin to describe the generosity of all the family and friends who have given presents to our little one on the way. It is obvious that we are very loved and that baby Caleb is going to be as well. He is already one lucky little boy that must realize his good fortune; he has been extremely active the past few days, probably in celebration of all the gifts that came his way.

A very disorganized nursery filled with piles of gifts.

This was one heck of a baby shower thrown by three of my favorite ladies. There was an A-B-C/1-2-3 theme with building blocks and bold colors all about. There were THREE types of cake – all delicious. There were tons of friends and family in attendance, some of whom had driven from hours away, some of whom had flown in from the west coast, and all of whom were greatly appreciated for being there. I can’t say thank you enough.
But now on to my list of my top 5 favorite things about this exquisite baby shower, in no particular order:

1) Spending time with friends and family!

2) Pee-pee teepees. These are meant to cover the little sprayers that baby boys are known to have little control over during diaper changes.

3) Signed copies of baby books from all the shower guests.
We now have a little library already begun.

4) Tons of handcrafted onesies. My sister arranged for all the guests in attendance to iron on machine-washable decals to a variety of different sized Gerber onesies. How original!

5) Did I mention the cake?

Photo of the Day

I do believe this is one of the cutest things I've ever seen. My niece Madeline (Magpie) in her daddy's sunglasses.

Perchance to dream

In the past I’ve been known to write posts regarding my crazy dreams, ones involving swimming pools and tropical beaches and committing crimes, etc. Nowadays, specifically since becoming pregnant, my dreams have quite a different ring to them. I always dream one of three things:

1) About my ex-boyfriends

2) About the baby

3) About Tyler Hansbrough

I am told that dreaming about ex-boyfriends and babies is extremely common during pregnancy. It has something to do with us pregnant ladies’ fears of either A) never being wanted by a man again due to our changed physical appearance, or B) not being properly prepared for the new role of motherhood.
My baby dreams are extra strange in that usually I am holding the precious newborn looking into his pretty blue eyes, when he suddenly turns into a yellow-eyed cat. Do I really fear I’ll give birth to a cat...probably not.
I am mostly curious about the Tyler Hansbrough dreams. Tyler, if you don’t already know him, was the extremely successful 6 foot 9, 250-pound, Carolina Tarheel basketball player from 2005-2008. He was named 2007-08 National Player of the Year. Simply put, he rocks at b-ball.
He is someone who I had absolutely no interest in before I was pregnant, not to say that he’s not an interesting fellow. He’s athletic, good-looking, professional, and successful – he’s just not my type. I am attracted to men named Jed, who are sexy, loving, funny chefs who meet my every need, want and desire.
But apparently my opinions don’t matter when it comes to the subconscious. I continue to dream innocent little dreams about Tyler Hansbrough. What’s toughest about this is that I honestly feel like I know Tyler very well now. He and I are old friends. I pray I never meet him for fear that I’ll embarrass myself saying something like, “What’s up buddy...enjoyed hanging out last night.”
Oh, the dreams, the crazy pregnant dreams!

Pregnancy Photo Shoot

BEWARE: LARGE NAKED BELLY AHEAD !!






My friend Bridget was nice enough to drive to Durham this weekend and take some maternity photos of me at the end of my seventh month of pregnancy. I plan on having more photos taken in the coming weeks. Bridget has an excellent eye as a photographer and came up with some really cute ideas. Thank you Bridget for this precious gift!

All photos by Bridget Clark.

Portrait of summer

All day long I had been dying to leave work and take advantage of the beautiful 85-degree summer day at the Sarah P. Duke Gardens. I heard the waterlilies are beautiful this time of year, though it seems the other plants are what caught my attention.