Eating with picky kids and gout-man

Before kids, Monkeyrotica and I did go to more exotic restaurants and consume with more abandon than we do now, but with young ones in tow, we started limiting our outings to eateries with childrens' menus. Dash is willing to try several more sophisticated meals that require multiple utensils and have spices added, but Rosie is still very flavor- and texture-averse when it comes to dining. Now that Monk is living with gout, even he has been forced to limit his palette. Since his first attack around the summer of 2011, we've learned quite a lot about what foods trigger his gout.

Gout is similar to arthritis and attacks joints, most often at the base of the big toe. It causes intense pain and swelling; when Monk's first attack happened, he thought he'd broken his foot.

What Causes Gout? From NIH.gov:

"Gout is caused by the buildup of too much uric acid in the body. Uric acid comes from the breakdown of substances called purines. Purines are found in all of your body’s tissues. They are also in many foods, such as liver, dried beans and peas, and anchovies. Normally, uric acid dissolves in the blood. It passes through the kidneys and out of the body in urine. But uric acid can build up in the blood when:

• The body increases the amount of uric acid it makes.
• The kidneys do not get rid of enough uric acid.
• A person eats too many foods high in purines."

 

For Monk, the gout-friendly foods he's learned to eat more of are:

• fresh, unrefined, and unprocessed foods. Include fruits, vegetables, whole grains, soy, beans, seeds, nuts, olive oil, and cold-water fish (salmon, tuna, and halibut)
• unsweetened cherries (canned, fresh, or frozen); cherries lower uric acid levels and can prevent gout attack
• blueberries, blackberries, and other deeply pigmented berries are also helpful as is pineapple
• lemon water, apple cider vinegar

Gout-aggravating, high-purine trigger foods that he needs to avoid:

• organ meats like kidneys, liver, and sweetbreads
• red meat
• oily fish like sardines, anchovies, and herring
• certain vegetables, including asparagus, artichokes, spinach, and cauliflower
• lentils
• mushrooms

Some foods have medium-to-low levels of purines in them, but because they are foods that we tend to eat in larger quantities, Monk needs to severely curb his intake when he eats shrimp (only 2-3 shrimp, then full stop) or chicken breast meat (only 1 small breast, no more). I'm sure there's more that I've forgotten, but that's quite a bit for us to handle! Good thing there are cherries and medication that he can take.

He's been managing his symptoms very well, despite a few occasions where he knew he wanted to eat trigger foods despite the consequences and he planned ahead by taking preventative measures for it. Life's no fun if you can't break the rules once in a while.

Nymphs and other unnecessary things I know way too much about...

This weekend, in the midst of struggling to juggle so many activities I had a few brief moments of clarity, wherein I am a savant. They were very brief.

Friday night, I saw X-Men: First Class at a local theater with my friend Staci who dearly needed a break from reality. I had such a blast watching the film, connecting with the prequel history of the X-Men franchise characters, as well as actors that I'd loved in other movies. Our evening wound down with a walk through Old Town and a mint julep-fueled movie discussion at The Majestic. The weather was gorgeous and the soft, cool summer breezes made me wish I could stay out all night.

Saturday was Rosie's last soccer game of the season, the earliest in the day—so at the very least, we got it out of the way first thing! Got changed out of soccer gear, and rushed Rosie over to Staci's to play with her BFF MEO and a whole mess of second-grade-classroom-raised chicks (see photo!) that Staci was keeping for the weekend. I barely remember lunch and getting Dash to ballet, but I'm so glad my brain clicked on enough to recall that I needed to buy Rosie new tights for her recital costume while I was at the studio. I had forgotten the third activity of the day: Dance Studio Photo Day. I remembered it about two hours before our first photo session, which gave me enough time to shower, put myself and Rosie in stage make-up, do her ballet bun, dig up the kids' costumes and mine out of various bags, closets and car trunks, and warn Dash over and over that he was wearing white pants, do not jump, kneel, or brush up against anything. All photos were done by 6:45. Whew. I had enough down-time left over to commune with my new guilty pleasure addiction: Netflix's five seasons of Ghost Whisperer.

Sunday, I fit in an aerobics workout, and we all went to the pool for a delicious picnic lunch. Highlights of the pool: the West Potomac Crew was having a party there, and many of the high school students were swinging on swings and playing on the playground equipment (intended for the 5 to 12 age set). *Snicker.* Rosie and Dash socialized with a couple of pool friends.

When was I a savant? My brief moments of non-floundering parental glory were when Rosie asked me what a Nymph was. I was able to educate her on my semi-exhaustive knowledge of dryads, oreiads, hamadryads, naiads, and their respective residences and anti-social habits. Also, while I was talking with a friend about seeing X-Men, I dazzled her with my ridiculous knowledge of the actors in the movie, all their previous roles in other movies, and the backgrounds of the various X-Men characters and how they relate to each other. Actually, strike savant. I think I can solidly be labeled a GEEK.

Dance Studio Photo Day!

(Sorry in advance for this long, long blog entry!)

Hey, I don't see any dance photos here! What gives?

Let me explain. If I had a split second, or perhaps a clone of myself with me who could wield a camera on Saturday, I would have taken a few photos. I didn't.

This was my day, June 5, 2010:

10 a.m. After breakfast and getting everyone dressed (Dash in dance clothes) & ready to head out the door, Rosie's calligraphy kit in hand, Dash's dance bag ready to go, we were off!

10:30: Arrived at Seichou Karate, where they teach Japanese calligraphy and Karate! There was a Karate class at the same time as calligraphy, did Dash want to try? Nope, he'll just watch. However, after the stretching and warm-ups were done and the Sensei was teaching punches, Dash announced, "I think I'll try now!" This is my only photo from the entire day. I swear, he had just been kicking like a champ!

11:30: We rushed off from Seichou, to get Dash to ballet by Noon.

Noon: My 1st trip of the day to the Dance Studio, to drop off Dash. Rosie and I headed home so she could get lunch, then I arranged her ballet bun with many pins and hairnet (thank goodness I had a bit of foresight!), then on with her leotard and back to the Studio for her class.

12:45 pm: 2nd trip to the Studio. Rosie's back-to-back ballet and tap classes started, then I got Dash home to eat his lunch. Now was the time I decided to try his dance costume on and see how it fits. I knew it was way too big, but did I alter it ahead of time? Nah, why not procrastinate instead! I measured and pinned his clothes, then set up the sewing machine. It fought with me, I adjusted settings, then had to leave the house again.

2:30: 3rd trip to the Studio to pick up Rosie. One other student hadn't been picked up on time and the photographers were setting up their equipment. Mrs. H was anxious that the parent wasn't coming in time. I offered to take Rosie's friend and get in touch with his mom via her cell, but was turned down. We headed to RiteAid to pick up some hair accessories, then took a side trip to pick up my costume from a classmate who had offered to do my alterations, then sped home. There, I got back to work on Dash's costume. It needed the pant legs taken up about 8 inches and the sleeves about 3 inches. I got the legs done, and Monkeyrotica came to warn me that "it's now 3:15, aren't Dash's photos at 3:45?" I finished the sleeves by hand-stitching with a loose baste, then threw the entire costume on the boy (white and baby-blue!) and arranged his hair with some hairspray. We left.

3:40: 4th trip to the Studio, for Dash's photos. It was a madhouse. The room was full to the brim with costumed ballet dancers, parents and siblings. Mrs. H popped her head out of the curtained studio to make announcements every few minutes. I put Dash's black socks on and slid his black ballet slippers over them. Somehow, I missed the call for his class but shoved him through the curtain just in time. I peeked in on him now and then, but parents are prohibited behind the curtain. At a few minutes past 4, I realized that Rosie's photo session is at 4:15 and Dash was nowhere near done!! I asked another parent to keep an eye on Dash until I'm back as I rushed home to gather Rosie's two costumes, all their accessories and get her dressed, all with no time to spare.

4:10: 5th trip to the Studio, with Rosie, her two costumes, and my dance bag. What? We needed her dance bag, with her ballet slippers inside! I phoned Monkeyrotica's cell, guided him around the house to try to locate her bag. He found it and agreed to drive it to the Studio. I went inside with Rosie, gave her a bit of lip gloss, tossed her tap costume in the dressing room, and asked her to stand with her classmates. I grabbed Dash, got his street shoes back on and took him outside with me. Monkey pulled up (the parking lot was also a madhouse), I grabbed Rosie's bag from him, and informed Monkey that he was taking Dash. I buckled Dash in, tossed his dance bag in the front seat and they were on their way. I pushed my way through the press of people to where Rosie was, jammed her slippers on, and shoved her through the curtain with her class. Whew! I found Rosie's friend Margaret in the dressing room, changing by herself, with a full ponytail, not a bun. "Margaret, sweetie, do you need help? Where's your mom?" I asked. "My dad dropped me off," She answered. I popped back in to the waiting room and Steve waved at me. "Would you like me to help with Margaret's ballet bun?" I asked. "Please!" he answered. Stepping back into the dressing room, I set eyes on Rosie's tap costume and realized that there were pieces missing. OMG-crap-crap-crap, I thought! Her tap photos were in 20 minutes. I ran out, apologizing to Steve.

4:35: 6th trip to Studio, with costume accessories in hand. I had completely forgotten that Rosie's tap costume had little wrist bands and a long ribbon that needed to be shoelaced through little slots all down the back. I started lacing like a madwoman. I finished just in time to get the costume on Rosie, then remembered that she didn't have standard tap shoes (needed to match in the photos). We borrowed a pair from Mrs. H's stash. 4:55. Kids' photos, done! Rosie and I went back home.

My class' photos were next, but at 6:45, so there was a little time to spare. However, it dawned on me that we were going out that evening and had hired a babysitter, my neighbor's kid. The house was a scandal. Dishes were everywhere on all the tables, stacks of them in the sink, food left out, soiled socks and clothes abandoned in the hallways and bathrooms (quick changes necessitated this), scraps of random debris all over the floors! I worked up a sweat unloading, loading, and running the dishwasher, bagging laundry, sweeping, stashing food away, etc. By the time it was all acceptably picked up (not cleaned, who has time for cleaning?), I had 3o minutes to fix my hair properly, do my makeup, remove all nail/toe polish, get costumed and head out the door. Oh, and with the kids in full costume. See, I had my heart set on having a portrait of the three of us together, all in our recital togs. Who knew if or when this might happen again? One or more of us might opt out of participating in coming years.

6:40: 7th trip to Dance Studio. My class had our group photo taken. I was irrationally angry at a teenager in my class for having chipped black polish on her nails and toes. There were strict guidelines sent out weeks ago about no jewelry or polish. I'm sure she had all the carefree-teenager-time in the world to remove it—unlike me—but I managed to anyway. Oi, listen to me, I'm being a freak. I beckoned the kids to join me and I realized that I didn't have Dash's bag with his ballet shoes in it. Remember where I put it? Monkey's car. Thankfully, Mrs. H had a spare pair that fit perfectly. We gathered with the photographers and they posed us. I was instructed to kneel on one knee (on hard-wood floors! ow-ow-ow!) while Dash sat on my bent leg and Rosie stood behind him.

We posed for three photos as a trio and I'm crossing my fingers that they turn out fabulous!! I'll post them when they are shipped, in 4 to 6 weeks, I'm guessing.

B, the sitter, arrived and we went out for the evening, off to wish our lovely friend Liz a wonderful birthday at a bar downtown. Wheee! I sure needed to celebrate after such a long day.

The highest highs and lowest lows of last Friday

Now that I'm distanced a bit from last Friday, I'm recording it here for posterity, in all its glory and infuriatingness.

First the good bits:
Monkeyrotica and I had a lovely evening out. Our sitter arrived on time and was received with a seamless transition—Rosie and Dash adore him (B., our babysitter is a 17-year-old boy who lives two doors over; he's geeky, brilliant, slightly awkward, and great with the kids. We [heart] B.) While Monkey waited for me to appear, the kids were already engaged and not concerned about their parents.

We had last-minute reservations for dinner at The Majestic. Our table wasn't ready when we arrived, so we found seats at the bar and ordered drinks. Somehow, the cocktails that we ordered were the most fantastically perfect mixes of their types — they were über-cocktails!! I had a Pimm's Cup (a cocktail I have blogged about before), a lovely and simple concoction of Pimm's No. 1 (a gin-based beverage), ginger ale, and a long cucumber strip over ice cubes. Its delicious, intoxicating, and refreshing flavors turned the corner on my evening and I started warming up to the idea of just enjoying a night out with my husband.

Monkey ordered The Majestic's Mint Julep. Oh my, that drink was excellent! Perfectly prepared, muddled, mixed with freshly crushed ice, and served in a pewter cup, THIS was a damn good drink. I liked my Pimm's, but his Julep was stunning. [A moment of reverence here, in the memory of all beautiful and long-consumed cocktails...]

We had fried green tomatoes and fried oysters for appetizers, Monkey ordered the calves' liver (very good even in my judgment, and I don't ordinarily appreciate organ meats), and I went out of my comfort zone, ordering a whole (yes, whole!) grilled orata (a whitefish). My fish was served over a salad of fennel, olives, orange wedges and toasted almonds. Our waitress must have thought we were high, unbalanced, or eccentric, because Monkey kept telling her our food was fu¢&ing awesome! And it was. It was a great, glowing, triumph of a dinner out with my man.

Now for the bad:
Leading up to this was three hours of crossed signals, missed connections, poor assumptions, obstacles, and calamity — all mine. I left my office around 4:30, with plans to meet friends at a happy hours later Friday evening. We typically meet for mid-week drinks around 8, because there are children and parenting issues involved, and it didn't occur to me that this meet-up would have a different schedule. I replied to a Google invite, but really didn't look at it. I was on the on-ramp for the Beltway 20 minutes later (! — it's only one mile!) when the 10-minute calendar alarm went off. The happy hour was for 5 PM! Crap! I called friends to let them know I'd be late, maybe arriving by 6. Then, I checked traffic on my Google maps app — the Beltway was RED (code for slow as heck) on much of my route and I was already on the highway. I quickly exited and circled back to where I started, in order to take a different route that showed green (code for moving at speed) on the map. Despite the green, it crawled. Stop-and-go, stop-and-go, never getting above 35MPH for the twenty-five miles to home. My 45-minute commute dragged into an hour, then an hour and a half, and kept ticking away.

By the time I got home to pick up Monkey, the sitter had been there for 20 minutes, I had to pee! and it was well past 6. The roads looked better, so I promised my friends that we'd arrive by 6:45, in time to catch them before they left to make their dinner reservations. With Monkey behind the wheel, in familiar territory, we sped into town. At 6:45, we were just a block from the bar! I rejoyced! We made it, the goal was in sight! But, calamity: our right turn lane, without any signs or warnings, turned into an on-ramp for the Southeast Freeway. WTF? Typical DC.

On the G.D. fracking freeway now, we merged into traffic and took the very next exit, to circle back. The off-ramp fed into streets surrounding the Marine Barracks, where there was some sort of ceremony in the works. Graduation? Whatever. Young Marines in full-dress uniform were marching here and there, crossing-guards were directing absolutely unmoving traffic, and we were stuck, STUCK.

After a short discussion on whether we'd attempt to meet our friends just to hug goodbye, or just turn around and do our own thing, we bailed. So, at exactly three hours after I left my office, I was sitting down at The Majestic, ordering my Pimm's Cup, determined to purge the stress and just enjoy an evening out. I sincerely hope my friends had just as wonderful (eventually) a time without us.

Arlington National Cemetery: Memorials

Rosie has a research project this month on "Historical Locations." There are so many in DC, she had her pick from a long list. After a short discussion on all the options, she changed her pick from the Lincoln Memorial to the much richer mine of the Arlington National Cemetery. Of course, now she needs to narrow down her options to which part of that vast area (624 acres!!) she'll do her project on. It's a mixed-media project, with a model-building part as well as a written part, and of course an oral presentation.

We took a family trip over to Arlington last Saturday with the ultimate goal of giving Rosie fodder for her project, but a smaller goal of visiting her great-grandfather's grave out in Section 17. We all got up early that morning, had a light breakfast and headed out. I didn't realize just how lightly Dash ate (he only had a 1/2 cup of milk and 3 apple wedges) until he started saying he was tired during our walk from the car to the visitors' center! We had another 3 miles of walking to do and used this opportunity to teach a lesson about the consequences of not finishing your meals.

On our walk, we passed the Tomb of the Unknowns, the Nurses Memorial, the USS Maine Memorial, the Space Shuttle Challenger and Columbia memorials (Rosie is pictured at the Columbia Shuttle Memorial, expressly because her teacher is related to the late Dr. Laurel Clark, one of Columbia's astronauts who perished in the 2003 disaster), and we ended our trek with a gambol through the grounds and gardens at the Custis-Lee Mansion/Arlington House. We didn't visit the burial site of Dash's namesake, Samuel Dashiell Hammett; maybe another time, as it was well off our path.

After all these experiences, I'm pretty sure she's planning to work on the Tomb of the Unknowns. We had the luck to arrive right at 9 a.m., when the changing of the guard was happening. I'll admit I knew next to nothing about the honor guard for the Unknowns, but we noticed the air of quiet reverence as we approached, so watched in kind. It was a mysterious bit of ceremony and I left somewhat confused as we moved on. When I next had a chance, I checked the good ol' Internet for details and am now astonished at the Honor Guard's rigors. Here are some facts that I was completely in the dark about (from TombGuard.org) :

• The tomb is guarded 24 hours a day, year-round and has been, every minute since 1937.
• Guard selectees must be between 5'11" and 6'4" in height and have a 30-inch waist.
• 80% of the soldier-applicants for this duty are not accepted.
• Guards must spend 8 hours of every day preparing their uniform, which is 100% wool.
• Once selected, Tomb Guards must serve at least 1 year at the Tomb
  
• At the Tomb, the Sentinel walks 21 steps, stops, faces the Tomb for 21 seconds, turns, changes his/her weapon to the outside shoulder, walks 21 steps back, faces the Tomb for 21 seconds, and repeats until his/her relief comes, every 30 minutes (or hr, or 2 hrs, depending).
  
• I read that Guards make a commitment to not drink alcohol ever again in their lifetime, but was very relieved for them when I learned that this was a myth.
• Only three Sentinels have ever been female.
• Only 578 Tomb Guard badges have ever been awarded.
  

Finally, the Sentinel's Creed:

The Sentinel's Creed

My dedication to this sacred duty
is total and whole-hearted.
In the responsibility bestowed on me
never will I falter.
And with dignity and perseverance
my standard will remain perfection.
Through the years of diligence and praise
and the discomfort of the elements,
I will walk my tour in humble reverence
to the best of my ability.
It is he who commands the respect I protect,
his bravery that made us so proud.
Surrounded by well meaning crowds by day,
alone in the thoughtful peace of night,
this soldier will in honored glory rest
under my eternal vigilance.

These Guards do most certainly deserve our respect as they protect and honor our country's Unknown Soldiers who died while in service.

I'm a track meet parent

Rosie had her very first mini-meet for her K-1 track club last night. She was thrilled about it and such a champ. Despite gray, rainy weather that seemed to drop as low as 55 degrees, she was upbeat, goofing with her friends and ran her little heart out. (sorry about the digit in her photo!) After the meet was over (it lasted at least an hour and a half), I told her, "Rosie, you ran so fast!" Her answer was definitive: "Uh-huh!"


Rosie competed in four events, the 100-meter dash, the long jump, the shot-put (using a softball), and 4 X 100-meter relay. We won't know her standings until later. It was a great first effort!

Since I'm not one to often attend outdoor sporting events, I'll pass on these tips.

• Bring a blanket. Even if you're not cold, your butt will need cushioning on the hard, metal bleachers.
• Bring snacks, or cash if there's a concession stand.
  
• Don't forget water for your little athlete! (I did.)
  
• There's a lot of waiting around. A lot. The coach is pretty good at wrangling the kids, but it gets dull for spectators.
• If you have a younger sibling with you, hope to Bob that there are friends of his there. A little girl named Katya saved us hours of Dash's whining.
• Don't forget a flask for yourself, with enough to share!
• Invite or make friends with other parents to stay entertained.
  

Thanks to Monkeyrotica and my parents for coming out to support Rosie and her team!

***UPDATE*** The school just posted photos from the track meet! Here's my girl (#5), powering up for the 100-yard dash.

I look freaking COOL!

So you do, little Dash, in your fabulous new suit.

Dash's faux-seersucker suit and tie were on sale at a consignment store for a ridiculously small amount. I snapped them up without him around and was amazed how perfectly they fit!

We went out with Grandma Ikiko for mothers day dinner at Kushi Izakaya in downtown DC and Monkeyrotica didn't want Dash wearing his usual "hobo" clothes. He and Rosie both behaved like little gentlefolk. Cuties!

Philly, Day 2: Museums We Loved (but didn't photograph)!

On Monday, we got up bright and early to enjoy the hotel's complimentary breakfast, where we found that all the other guests were foreign (well, one couple was from Montana, does that count?). Thankfully, all the items they served were foods that both Rosie and Dash would eat. After we filled up on cereal, bagels, muffins, fruit and coffee, we bundled up in extra layers, raincoats, hats, scarves, and gloves. With umbrellas at the ready, we headed out for the one-and-a-half-mile walk to the Franklin Institute.

At the Frankin Institute, I waited in the long lines to get tickets for everyone. The basic tickets included just enough of the exhibits to engage the kids—the "Body Worlds and the Brain," IMAX theatre and all the extras would be too much. As we walked in, we were just in time to line up for the Planetarium, where they were showing a special presentation, "Black Holes: The Other Side of Infinity," narrated by a particularly classy voice-over actor, Liam Neeson! Rrowr. The animation for the visualizations were spectacular. They were showing planetary phenomena that no-one has actually seen, all speculation, but it was so well-executed (and well-narrated!) that heck, I believed it! When Red Giant stars go super-nova, they implode, and the energy plus the gigantic force caused by that implosion feeds on itself, sucking everything around the star inside, causing the black hole. Then, there was a bit about Einstein's theory of relativity and some really cool grid-line simulations that I though I understood at the time, but, um, *shrug*.

Then there was a bit about big locomotives, then some fancy aerodynamics hand-on exhibits where Dash sat in the cockpit of some stinky old shabby aircraft DASH GOT TO RIDE A PLANE! Now, Monkeyrotica had been playing up the "climbing through the giant heart" that he recalled from his grade-school field trip. The kids loved it—we went through twice, when many other claustrophobic souls dropped out shrieking early on. Sure, it was some painted fiberglass that has seen better days, but it's a great teaching tool. Squeezing through the tight "ventricles" while a throbbing "lub-dub" surrounds you and simulated red and white blood cells speed past overhead was pretty exciting.

From there, we hit the gift shop and headed just a 1/2-mile away for lunch at Oh! Shea's, which served acceptably decent pub food with a nice house-brand root beer. Just three blocks away was our next destination, the Mutter Museum Of College Of Physicians Of Philadelphia. This oddity actively prohibited photographs, with burly security attentive docents ready to give you the smackdown if you attempted a cameraphone pic. If you can hunt down the Discovery Channel's special on the Mutter Museum, you'll pretty much see everything we did, jugged guts, dessicated foetal mutations, eye and skin diseases, genetic disorders. Needless to say, our kids were the only ones in there under 14.

We schlepped it back the 1.5 miles in the rain to the hotel, with one stop for me to replace my hobo-umbrella, which was turning inside-out with every other gust of wind. We stayed in for a breather, let the kids splash in a hot bath, then headed out to the Brauhaus Schmitz, an authentic German restaurant about 5 blocks away. The kids were getting kind of loopy at this point, crawling under the table, playing with our phones (photo of Dash doing exactly that!) and such. We ended our day with cookies and tea back at the hotel.

Next up, Day 3: Damn, it's cold!

Fortified Wine Class at Brabo Restaurant

This past Tuesday evening, Monkeyrotica cheerfully headed off to Lorien Hotel's Liberty Room, attached to Brabo Restaurant in Alexandria, VA to learn about fortified wines. He'd enrolled early on, thinking it would be exactly his type of class, what with the way he stocks up on sherry and madeira. What would be better than learning to pair his wines with Brabo's Chef Chris Watson's wonderful food?

Lo and behold, he arrived to find that the instructor was a long-time friend, Jason Whiteside (pictured, from our dinner party in 2009). We've been a little out of touch with Jason lately, and didn't know that he had recently completed a Level 4 Diploma through the Wine & Spirits Education Trust. Monkey was happy to be witness to his expertise. Jason, a wine consultant for The Country Vintner, knows his Madeira, Port, and Sherry and masterfully matched his picks with delicious small plates.

Here was the line-up (from the class brochure):

Hidalgo "La Gitana" Manzanilla Sherry / sardines stuffed with tomatoes and spinach, quail egg

Blandy's 5-Year-Old Verdehlo Madeira / lobster bisque espresso, puff pastry fleuron

Cazes Muscat de Rivesaltes 2005 / mini fruit tart

Domaine du Mas Blanc Banyuls 2006 / house-made chocolate truffle

Smith Woodhouse Late-Bottled Vintage Port 1995 / stilton cheese, quince paste

When describing his experience to me, Monkeyrotica expressed delight in all that he tasted and learned, but thought I'd be most interested in the mini fruit tart (he knows me well). He explained that at first blush, the Cazes Muscat de Rivesaltes was over-sweet (which is normally a turn-off, to me), but went on to say that the tart was prepared in a natural way — the sweetness in the wine gave the tart its missing glaze as the flavors melded. Oh, my. Wondrous!

I am oh so jealous: all this at the very reasonable price of $35 per person? I am totally joining him if/when Brabo holds an event like this again.

I Was an 11-year-old Devo Wife

It was 1981. Three of my junior-high school friends and I were obsessed with new wave music, specifically, The Police, David Bowie, Blondie, and Devo. I forget exactly how these friends and I found each other in junior high, but I recall that a little girl-scout-type non-friend from my bus stop told me that if I stayed friends with them I'd get a "bad reputation." I think I had to look that up, as I had no idea what she was talking about. It was easy enough to ignore her. My friends, sisters Mary & Judi Huff and Linda Smith, did have a bit of roughness about them, living on the poorer side of town and all coming from broken homes (Mary & Judi talked about wanting their step-father dead, regularly), but they'd befriended me, unlike the girl-scout-types, and I was drawn to their edginess and anti-mainstream attitudes.

We were all crazy about Devo, reading all the liner notes, memorizing their personal info, singing their songs and memorizing the lyrics. We were from the Midwest, they were from the Midwest; there were four of us and there were four (or five, math is hard) of them; it was kismet. We each "married" a Devo member, became "spudgirls" and made ourselves the red dome hats out of cardboard. Judi was the oldest and "married" Mark Mothersbaugh, Mary got hitched to Jerry Casale, Linda wed Bob Casale, and I pled my troth to Bob Mothersbaugh. I got Bob 1, mostly because he was deemed least attractive with his long face and large nose and the other girls were all bigger than me—not much room to argue. We sang and danced around to their albums, banging into each other, and being totally goofy whenever we met up, for months. Good times.

It's 2009 and I just saw Devo on tour with some very favorite friends at the 9:30 club in DC on Sunday night. It was amazing!! Devo played fast, hard, and loud, kept the energy high and ROCKED. It was one of the best shows I've seen in a long time. The guys, all in their late-50s, performed famously, keeping the bizarre theatrics they're known for, and stunning us all with the joy they seemed to have, out on tour singing tunes from their 30-year-old album, Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo! It was glorious.

I'd told Kelly about the whole Devo marriage thing, and she jokingly told me during the show, "Your husband's held up well!" Hilariously, after Booji Boy tossed out bouncy balls during the encore song, Beautiful World, and I caught one (well, fished it off the floor), the guy standing behind me asked a non-sequitor, "Was that your wedding ring?"

Maybe it was. Maybe it was...

Brandi Carlile live

Wednesday night, I met a few close friends at the 9:30 club to see a live show. I really was just happy to be out—I jumped all over the invitation and didn't even check out the acts aside from looking at their promo photos on the 9:30's homepage. We totally missed the first band (doors opened at 6), but I was stunned by the main act, Brandi Carlile. Accompanied by just a ukelele and her two backup singers, she opened with a achingly beautiful song, Oh Dear, that quieted down that rowdy crowd in the first bell-like notes. "The twins'" and her voices are just amazingly lovely, powerful—I can't remember the last time I heard such range and quality, live. Alternating between hard rock, country, and mainstream pop styles, her endearing twang and friendly, adorable stage demeanor added to just how delightful the entire show was. She had us completely silent for an unplugged song and singing along in three-part-harmony for another. Everyone was utterly charmed by her.

Here is an excerpt from a performance of hers earlier this year. They must have decided to tone down the "country" for the DC audience, because we didn't hear this comedic segment or her covers of these "terrible, uncomfortable," hilarious country tunes. Brandi is incredibly talented, and just so freaking cute! Take a look:

Happy birthday to me

Anthony Bourdain Taste Testing
Originally uploaded by Anthony Bourdain:No Reservations

Okay, 38 is now here, with the passing of my birthday this past Friday. So why did I post a photo of Anthony Bourdain, you may ask? Well, I'll get to that in a minute.

I slacked off until the last minute deciding what/where/when I wanted to do birthday celebrating. So much so that Monkeyrotica made other plans for my birthday proper. No problem! I had a lovely time out with my parents, Auntie M., Rosie and Dash. We dined at Rustico where after the quickest glance at the kids menu, I knew instantly what my tots would be eating: Dash= hotdog/Rosie= pasta w/butter. I had the lovely baked mac & cheese with roasted mushrooms, pancetta & English peas (though we all wondered what exactly made them English). We all baked ourselves in the window seat, where even though it was tinted, plenty of heat came through. Next time we should all wear tanktops and shorts or phone first to see if their blinds have come in. Kimberly was our fabulous waitress, who indulged us by fawning over Dash's silly comments (after receiving an adult-size water glass) like, "I think I need a small, small cup because I have teeny, tiny hands!"

Saturday, after our neighbor's son, Bram, came over for babysitting (sorry won't be available next weekend, he's going away to violin camp)—he was awesome, and I will absolutely use him again!!—Monkey and I headed off for Old Town. Our destination was PX, but since you can't drink several cocktails into the evening without having something in your stomach, we drifted over to The Majestic. We were thinking about going to Eamonn's first for fish and chips, but weren't sure we'd have enough time and it seemed too hot with sun streaming through their large storefront (I think I'd just been recounting the Rustico experience). It might have been crowded in there, too (alluding to Bourdain sighting to follow), but we'd already discounted going there, and didn't give it much of a glance. At Majestic, I had a glass of Cab, and the antipasti platter with some crusty bread and Monkey enjoyed their limeade with fried oysters. All delightful! When our reservation hour neared, we headed down the road to PX.

PX was pretty empty at 6:15, so after giving our greetings to Todd Thrasher, the "liquid savant/master alchemist" behind the bar, Monkey and I enjoyed ourselves in the blue room while we waited for our first cocktail order to arrive. I had the sparkling mojito, he had a Basil cocktail--very nice. When Kelly arrived, she was beside herself, the "Smoker's Delight" was such a wonderful mix of flavors! I asked Todd to come back and talk with her when he had a minute; I know how proud he is of his expertise and willingness to discuss, so a short while later he came by. He spoke of distilling flavors down to essences and then adding them to the cocktails, using eyedroppers to apply just the right intensity. We enjoyed each other's company for a while, and he mentioned that Tony Bourdain was downstairs at Eamonn's and he was at PX even though it was supposed to be his night off. He was called away and promised to come back to chat more. Our pal Don arrived and we all were having a delightful time with our drinks and exchanging tastes (Don had the "O" and the "Pump" drinks, I believe; the pump was mixed with homemade gingerale and will be the next drink I try when we go again). I went to check on Todd in case he was available to continue our conversation when I saw that Bourdain was at the bar with his entourage.

Maybe I was a wee tipsy, but I assessed the situation, then announced, "Mr. Bourdain, are you monopolizing our Todd Thrasher?" He smiled and laughed a bit. Then I said to Todd Thrasher, "why Todd, you have a celebrity in your midst!" One of Tony's entourage quipped, "Todd is a celebrity in his own right!" I had to agree. That's when I leaned in and told Bourdain that I was celebrating my birthday that night with Todd's fabulous cocktails! He smiled again and wished me a happy birthday. Woot. I was just some crazy drinker with a french twist, a flapper-style black beaded dress (with 8" fringe), red jet beaded jewelry and silver-lame strappy heels. He turned back to the entourage.

Kelly made BFF with another guest in the blue room who traded her his Smoker's Delight for her 2nd drink, which wasn't nearly as fabulous. Thank you, Mr. Generous, whoever you are! Our birthday cakes arrived (they must be pre-ordered, as they are delivered from Eve) with candles on each—I blew out all four (no, I won't tell you what I wished). That confection was wonderful, just perfectly, meltingly sweet icing and fluffy yellow cake-ness inside.

I discovered that the lovely Meshelle Armstrong was at the bar that evening, and with an adorable new coif! We had some giddy chatter in which she revealed that her family was on a cruise when they heard that No Reservations was planning to feature their restaurant, so they had to cut their trip short. She came back to chat with Monkey and my friends and we promised again to get our kids together for a playdate.