Fun with my little mp3 player...

Robbie Laughing

Me and Robbie getting pretty serious.

You can see the rest of the photos from our Belleville trip last week, if you are so inclined.

We stopped at Bread Co. for dinner tonight. I got the chicken salad sandwich. Okay, not as good as Mom's (no one else's ever is) and I should have gone with my standard panini.

Except that's what Joe did, and they kind of forgot to paninize it. Or something. I think they put it together and just skipped the whole heating-squishing process. It was a pre-panini'ed panini, which ends up just being a sandwich.

Kind of like my chicken salad sandwich. At least I expected mine to be cold.

Panini is a great word. It fits into the Food category of "Words-You-Cannot-Sound-Macho-While-Saying," like couscous and escargot. I don't care how gruff and deep and manly your voice is, when you ask for a big helping of couscous and endive salad, all the macho has left you. Bye bye.

What Joe actually ordered was a grilled panini. According to Wikipedia, the inerrant source of all information, a panini - or, to be proper, a panino, which is the correct singular of panini - is simply a "sandwich made from a small loaf of bread, typically a ciabatta." A heated and pressed panini, er, panino, is just one type of many possible panini.

(If you Google Image Search for panini, though, you'll find pictures of grilled panini until the 5th page of results, where this one shows up. I cannot tell if it is grilled or not. I'd like to try it with Filling Option #6. That tasty cheese is irresistible. You'll also find a picture of the Smurfs on the 1st page of results. I bet they like mushrooms in their panini.)

I guess Joe's cold sandwich still counted as a member of the panini panoply, then. I won't call customer service after all.

Resources: Can't get enough? Okay then:

Get your panini grills here. They are the latest rage in food service. And did you know they can cook virtually anything? "Yep, Bob, just throw that whole chicken on my panini grill there. Oh sure, it can handle it..."

The Panini Happy blog. Good recipes. I wish I had a panini grill.

Of course, a Squidoo page. How could there not be one?

Image Credit: The beautiful portabella and mozzarella panini picture is from daisygp at BiggestMenu.com. People at that site are licking the picture. The panini craze has gone a bit far.

The indelibly grill-marked panini image is from Chef Max Huppert, who says that panini "is simply the Italian name for sandwich, however it is mostly used in reference to sandwiches that are placed in a two-sided cooking press that compresses and grills the sandwich until hot and toasted" (emphasis mine). Hmm. Maybe I should call customer service. He is a chef.

And this picture of a great big panini grill for the accident-prone is from SnapDragon.com. You'll have to go there to find out exactly why it has such long handles...

Running errands with one small child requires some forethought. You need diapers, wipes, a stroller, a car seat, bottle-feeding gear if you're not breastfeeding. Once you get past the nursing stage, you need food, a spoon, a bib, more wipes. Lots of wipes.

Running errands with two small children requires a degree of insanity. Fortunately, I have reached this level and somewhat beyond, so I don't let have two kids under two slow me down, even when it should. Read the rest of this entry »

I think there is something, more important than believing: Action! The world is full of dreamers, there aren't enough who will move ahead and begin to take concrete steps to actualize their vision. W. Clement Stone

(An aside: a great quotation above other than using the word "actualize." I'm not a fan of it.)

After a week away from posting, I have returned with slightly sunburned arms and slightly stretched muscles. I got in some good walking - it's the exercise that takes you anywhere! - but my abs are suffering from a failure to incorporate sexy-abs-situps into my vacation routine. Alas. I'll get right on that.

A week away is good for one's perspective on things, usually. This trip, however, I returned feeling a little muddled. I think it was just... well. I really don't know what it was just. It just was, but I'm muddling through the muddle. This day, home is a clarifying place. (Ironic that I'm at the library as I write this, not at home.)

Challenge Update (review of the week 17 - 25):

Day 17 (Thursday): Ran around the house packing, cleaning, laundering, stressing, calling random people, checking the mail too often, paying bills, sitting down, standing up, playing with Mara, repacking, forgetting things, worrying about forgetting things, making a list, losing a list, finding a list, ad infinitum. Wearily she falls into bed... Read the rest of this entry »

Happiness depends more on the inward disposition of mind than on outward circumstances. Benjamin Franklin

Challenge Update: It's a funny thing, when you have no to do list. You forget to do stuff. Like blog.

Just kidding. I didn't really forget for an entire week. I was otherwise occupied, shall we say? Let me 'splain. No, is too much. Let me sum up.

My Dad came to visit on Sunday, followed by my sister, her two kids, and her boyfriend on Tuesday, followed by a nasty flu that hit me on Wednesday. Dad left Thursday, Sister et al left Friday, flu left Sunday.

Despite the evil sickness with which I was smited (smiten? smote?), we managed to hit the City Museum and the Zoo on Wednesday and Thursday, respectively. I can't say I had a whoppin' good time at either one, feeling as I was like a slightly livelier version of a feverish zombie. However, for those in good health who are in the St. Louis region, both attractions are worth the visit.

City Museum hits you with a rather pricey admission cost ($12 for ages 3 and up) and, if you participate in the fun at all, leaves you with sore knees, elbows, and vertebrae. But it is fun and interesting for kids and adults, they're always adding new stuff, it covers all ages, it's big and will entertain you for hours.

St. Louis Zoo charges no admission, though if you use the convenient, just-across-the-street parking they charge $10 per car, more for (full-size) vans. A little further from the entrance you can scrounge for free parking; there isn't lots, but it's there if you take the time to stalk a leaving party. (Try not to be too obvious.) They have snacks and drinks and merchandise available, of course, all for exorbitant prices; pack a lunch and make sure you catch one of the scheduled seal feedings (buyer beware: no scheduled feedings on Thursdays), the penguin house, and the insectarium. Get a guide to tell you about the big apes and be prepared for lots of discussion about poop if you have children under, oh, age fifteen, and you go anywhere near the elephants or hippos.

Better Life Tip: Find something fun in your area, scope it out so you know what to expect, and make a day trip.

I was in high school ten years ago. Ten years ago. This seems strange to me. High school was only yesterday. College was half an hour ago. And who are these kids and why do they keep calling me Mom?

Ha. Just a little humor there. Only Mara calls me Mom... Seriously, we all know two-month-old babies can't say Mom!

Ha, again. I'm feeling a bit "sarcastical" but not in a bitter, emo kind of way. More in a "I'm being sarcastic because the fact that I am an independent adult, let alone wife and mother of two young children, seems surreal and fabulously wonderful and overwhelming and I don't know what to do about it" kind of way.

I think I don't really do anything about it. I am it! And I love it. Sure, there are smelly diapers and not enough sleep, lots of responsibility and little free time, too many projects and not enough money, but the truth is this: I am living the life I want. I choose this life. I love this life. I want this life, every smelly, silly detail of it.

I am sarcastic because I am overwhelmed, but not by responsibility and negativity and general mental clutter. I am overwhelmed by those things sometimes, sure. Right now, though, I am overwhelmed with gratitude and awe that this life is mine to live with all its pain and challenge and sweetness.

Several ideas floating in the space inside my head. (There's some extra room that my brain doesn't occupy).

There's a new ladies' Bible study starting at church this Wednesday evening. My first thought was that I definitely don't have time, don't need another commitment, and don't want to get into another evening event, especially one that take me away from my husband. Obviously, he doesn't fit into the "ladies" category, so he is not exactly welcome...

But since that initial reaction, I've had second thoughts. The last few Sundays as I've sat in church, or looked out at the congregation during worship times, or walked the aisle before and after services, I've seen the glaring absence of fellowship in my life. I know these people, sure. I like them, and I think they like me. I know their basic life situations. I don't push past the surface, though. I don't sit down, spend time, ask the deeper questions. I don't open up. I'm not vulnerable with them. I answer questions almost flippantly, as I would with a stranger in the grocery store.

Fellowship is sacred. I can feel the lack of it in my spirit, especially since my Mom died last summer and I am craving the warmth of the generous, feminine spirit that she was to me. A ladies' Bible study isn't going to replace my Mom, but it could be a first step toward building those relationships that could grow into something valuable and important.

Mom is one of those other thoughts I have been unable to avoid since the new year began. I thought Christmas would be difficult. It was different, but good. Everything since then has been difficult.

Grieving is a strange process. The first few months I was emotionally numb. I would pick up the phone to call Mom and tell her something cute Mara did, then realize... and just put the phone down and go on to the next thing, zombie-like. After that I started crying more; every few days or so I would soak Joe's shoulder and he would comfort me, and then we would go on.

Now, though, I just feel this deep ache. I feel like I could cry and never stop, so I am not letting myself begin. There is simply this huge regret, this longing to have one more conversation, one more hug, one more time to sit down beside her at the piano and sing a new song together.

I know one more would never be enough.