Last Wednesday the Santa Ana (California) winds blew from the east knocking a lot of trees and power lines down. Wolf mentioned one report citing the winds racing through at 97 miles per hour. I’ve seen professional baseball pitchers hurl balls at that speed; so fast you don’t even see the ball. But at least someone – the batter, the umpire, and maybe a few eagle-eyed spectators – actually sees the ball.

The thing with these crazy winds is that you can’t see them. You just hear them and you feel them as they send trees crashing down onto cars and the street. I had such a hard time trying to fall asleep as those winds swirled around like an angry witch. You know that feeling when you’re driving really fast down a road and you hit a sudden drop and your stomachs sinks with the drop? Oh, I felt that numerous times last Wednesday night. And I was lying still.

The windstorm knocked our power out for a few days, and, needless to say, life without electricity ain’t no fun. I’m thankful that we did have heat and hot water, and we had plenty of candles and LED lights so that we could read at night like Abe Lincoln. Wolf constantly checked his iPhone for reports on when we might have our power back, and there were constant delays. Great, I thought, we might get power in a week? Two?

So, much to my surprise and delight, it felt like magic when, three days after we lost power, I turned a lamp switch early Sunday morning, and the light went on.

Pretty to look at. Yummy to eat.

This past Wednesday, Wolf and I celebrated our ten-year anniversary. I believe some life sentences are quite nice.

Our neighbors babysat Mimi as a gift, so we went to the Edendale Grill in Silverlake (the hip, trendy neighborhood here in Los Angeles). I had their signature meatloaf – yes, meatloaf! – and we shared a bottle of French Malbec. Yum!

Our neighbors also gave us a box of macarons (I know, in the U.S. we call them macaroons but macarons sounds so…je ne sais quoi, oui?). These were gone in a flash. Just like those ten years. Where have they gone?

Happy Weekend, y’all.

The Box the macarons came in. Yes!

Hey. I'm two years old. I'm stronger than you. You're simply bigger than me.

It’s hard for me to fathom that my little girl is now two years old. Time keeps zipping by. It’s hard to keep track of all the changes in her. All I can say is that she’s a happy, healthy little girl who laughs and smiles easily, often cries when she doesn’t get her way, insists on putting her shoes on the wrong feet, loves bath time, drinks what I believe are excessive amounts of milk, annoys her dog to no end and climbs to heights that frighten the living doo-doo out of her parents. In other words, so far, she’s a pretty normal kid.

My in-laws and my mother have been asking us non-stop what Mimi wants for her second birthday. I haven’t a clue. A tricycle? A toy stroller with a baby doll? A new truck? Musical instruments? All of that? We’ve got an idea of what we’ll buy for her. But what we’ll give her on this special day and all other days? A lot of love. That’s all. That’s a lot.

As I was going through Mimi’s pictures since her birth, I remembered a very funny song by Jonathan Richman called “Not Yet Three.” Do you know it? It’s very funny. Adorable, really. Here’s one verse:

“Look, I sat up in my crib and you didn’t like that
So now I have to lie down flat on my back
I can’t get out of this thing
I can’t get out of here
But if you think I’m sleeping, oh no, that’s all mistaken
That’s right
You think I should be dozing now
But my cheeks are still a rosing now
And yes it’s true that I’m not yet three
It doesn’t matter, I’m stronger than you
You’re simply bigger than me”

My dearest friend in the entire world lives in Tokyo. Recently she sent me a pack of stickers, a lovely journal and some ball point pens that have erasable ink. A most awesome package indeed. Of course, inside the packet of stickers was a sheet of Hello Kitty stickers. Of. Course.

They are now everywhere.

What's that on Wolf's MacBook Pro?

Oh. A Hello Kitty sticker. Of course.

Look, another one on the kitchen counter.

There's another Hello Kitty. In my morning pages.*

The stickers are showing up in some interesting places. I think I found a tiny one on the inside of my t-shirt yesterday. And another on the dog this morning. Yeesh.

*In an effort to get back into a more regular routine and to grab back my creative mojo, I’ve been writing morning pages along with Jamie Ridler and some other creative people over at Jamie Ridler Studios. I did this writing exercise a few years ago and highly recommend it.

Um. We found Mari. So now we're looking for a nice caption.

Without giving it much thought or bothering to notify anyone, I decided to pretty much take August off. From blogging, tweeting, Facey-faceying and all that other online stuff. Occasionally I logged on and put in my two cents, but that was about it. I think by July’s end I felt like I was suddenly facing a shortage of energy and creative oomph. So I’ve spent most of the past month working on the book, learning more about layout, design, digital photo compression, and self-publishing. And oh, yes. That if I map out my days ahead of time, I can get a truck load of stuff done.

Did you have a good August? How’s September treating you so far?

Ooh boy. Mon dieu!

I’ve been reading the magnificent cooking blog Papilles & Pupilles for a few years now. Anne, the genius behind P&P, has taught me a bunch of things about cooking, the most important being how to enjoy slaving over a hot stove. I still have no idea how she cooks as much as she does, photographs it and writes about it as often and consistently as she does. But she does. If you haven’t visited her blog yet, please do. Yes, it’s in Francais. It’s one of the ways that I keep up my French (which also means that when I don’t bother to look up a word I don’t recognize in her recipes, I do mess up some of what I cook. My bad.)

Anyway. One day on Twitter she mentioned Vichy Pastilles. They’re these wonderful candies that my father used to keep in his jacket pockets when we lived in France. It wasn’t unusual to see him pop a few after a meal. I mean, after all that fine meat and wine and before lighting a cigarette or a pipe (yes, Dad smoked…it was a different time, friends), a Vichy pastille was appropriate.

Also, it wasn’t unusual that my father would reach into his pocket and find only one or two pastilles left in his pack. Because I knew where they were and downed as many as I could. Loved. These. Candies.

When Anne tweeted about the candies, I merely told her how much I loved them and that it had been years since I had crunched a Vichy Pastille.

Next thing I knew, a cannister of anis- and mint-flavored pastilles had arrived in my mailbox. From France. From Anne en France.

Yum.

Anne, merci! Grand bises from California!

Last week I chaperoned an outing that Mimi’s daycare center organized. We took a group of kids to Kidspace, a fantastic children’s museum and park near the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, California. At first, Mimi was a bit reticent. The kids’ museum houses a bunch of climbing structures that are somewhat complex and very tall, and as the youngest kid in the group she wasn’t able to run up and down and climb all over the place with the other kids. But with a little encouragement she followed them around and climbed onto the lower levels of some of the structures. On each try, she would make it to the lowest level, look up, look around, look at me, and then slide back on the ground and walk to something else to try out…

And when she saw the little tricycles outside, she went bananas. She hopped on one, let me put the helmet on her and though her feet couldn’t reach the pedals, she still pushed herself along the track. She got off one tricycle, got on another and did it all over again. I occasionally pushed or pulled her along, and though I tried to put her feet on the pedals, she seemed quite happy to just hold her feet up and let me push her while she steered. At first I was trying to follow the arrows on the track but that proved pointless with Mimi behind the wheel; we bumped into some benches and other obstacles. The whole time she was laughing and ooh-ing and aaah-ing as we moved along.

And that’s when it hit me: it didn’t matter that we were going in the wrong direction on the track or that we didn’t start from the Start Line or even make it to the Finish line. That little kid was having a grand time.

]]> http://www.mischiefmaricookies.com/blog/its-not-the-destination-its-how-you-get-there/feed/ 6 http://www.mischiefmaricookies.com/blog/happy-friday-3/ http://www.mischiefmaricookies.com/blog/happy-friday-3/#comments Fri, 08 Jul 2011 17:18:04 +0000 mischief mari http://www.mischiefmaricookies.com/blog/?p=2408

We’ve been slogging through one killa of a heat wave this week. This morning felt a tad cooler. Thank goodness.

Working on a few fun things this weekend, including some paintings and new cookie designs. You’ll see.

Have an okay weekend. We will.

Doughnuts by Amy Loves Yah on Flickr

My father used to tell me I was getting the hole in the doughnut whenever I asked him for something I didn’t need or that he couldn’t afford. I find myself saying that to Mimi when she screams and whines and kicks for something instead of asking. The kid can’t even talk yet, but I figure I’m going to get into the habit of not being a pushover.

Anyway.

I’m never sure how the word is supposed to be spelled, doughnut or donut? Frankly, I don’t think it matters. If I could, I’d have a donut every day. Or maybe every other day.

So here’s something interesting: the first Friday of June is apparently National Doughnut Day here in the U.S. (oh. notice how I am changing the spelling on a whim). A lot of donut shops are giving out free doughnuts. It will be a test of my will power to not go to the very awesome bakery next to our business mailbox when I pick up the mail. That place has some serious chocolate glazed and coconut beauties.

And in case you didn’t know, here’s the back story on National Doughnut Day, from Wikipedia:

National Donut Day is on the first Friday of June each year, succeeding the Donut Day event created by the Salvation Army in 1938 to honor the women who served donuts to soldiers during World War I.^[1] The holiday celebrates the doughnut (a.k.a “donut”) — an edible, torus-shaped piece of dough which is deep-fried and sweetened. Many American doughnut stores offer free doughnuts on National Doughnut Day.

Have an okay weekend.

Last Friday, a stranger said the most wonderful thing to me. And I am still thinking about it.

After dropping Mimi off at daycare, I took Nunuk for a walk on one of our usual routes, up the hill and along the local golf course. At one point, I noticed a car slowing down as it neared us. When the car finally stopped, the woman behind the wheel rolled down her window and said: “I just wanted you to know. The two of you are beautiful.“

Her tone was sincere, friendly and sweet. Yet she caught me completely off-guard. I suddenly realized that up to that moment I had been tense, anxious, and worried about a lot of things including my health, being behind in my work, afraid that I’ll never reach the goals I’ve set for myself this year and well, you know, filled with all those limiting beliefs that can really mess you up. I was also worried that a block away, we were going to pass one of Nunuk’s nemeses, a bulldog named Sydney.

But this lady knew none of that. It didn’t matter, either. She just sat in her car, a big smile on her face. “Thank you. Thank you so much!” That’s all I could think of saying.

She nodded with confidence and conviction that said, “You better believe it.” And drove off.

We passed Sydney the bulldog’s house without incident. In fact, Nunuk didn’t even notice him. I think that woman’s words were still ringing in both of our heads.

I went around for the rest of the day feeling like I was walking on clouds.

It’s a great feeling when someone tells you something incredibly nice. It’s a feeling that stays with you for a good, long time.

What has someone said to you recently that has made you feel wonderful?