June 29, 2011

soft feet slippers: a tutorial

When Briton was two, we lived in a teeny tiny apartment in an old brick Georgian townhouse above the most patient couple in the world. Orlaith (pronounced Orla, like Orla Kiely, but spelled differently) and Dave endured living under the tantrums, dropped toys and stomping feet that come along with having a toddler and never complained a bit. But because I knew that Dave was studying day and night to become a Barrister and because, well, I really didn't want our whole building to end up hating us, I spent a lot of time and energy trying to teach my toddler to be a little bit quieter, especially in the evenings.

"Soft feet! Soft feet!" I would chant to him when he barged into a room (and when I say "a" room I mean one of the two rooms that made up our apartment, I'm telling you, thinking back on that place makes our current living quarters seem absolutely palatial.) "Soft feet B!"

It was kind of a loosing battle. I mean. He was two. But by the time we left, at almost four, he had gotten pretty good at walking softly.

A skill that he has totally forgotten.

The good news about our building here is that the powers that be at Columbia have put all the families with small children one right on top of one another. So while I know that the people below us can hear our kids running down the hall every morning, I also know they don't care, because their kids are running down their hall. And the little boy who lives above us is running down his hall. It's a long hall in a small apartment, it practically begs to be run down many, many times a day. Never the less, I'm still trying to re-introduce the "Soft Feet" habit. But where that earlier apartment had carpet to deaden the sound a bit, here we have only hard woods (and trust me, I'm thankful for that, I hate carpet, but a long hall with no rug can make for a pretty noisy spot in the house) In an attempt to help with this issue and also as a part of the whole, no shoes in the house thing we are currently enforcing, I made some simple slippers for everyone (except me, because a) I know how to walk softly, b) I have awesome slippers and c) I can barely force myself to wear flip flops in the summer. I hate having things on my feet unless I'm freezing, so I go barefoot)
Although Will also knows how to walk softly, he does like slippers anytime of year. Because I'm still feeling bad about the slipper malfunction of 2010 and the new pair I had almost finished to make up for that unfortunate event were among the lost knitting projects of the move, I started with his. I couldn't quite find a pattern I liked. I knew I wanted to use a large yarn so that they would knit up fast and I'd been looking for an excuse to buy myself something from here. I liked this image I found of a pair of kids slippers but I wanted to knit them, so in the end I (for once in my life) figured out the gauge of my knitting and used it to figure out my own pattern. I usually HATE to knit test swatches, so this was a very big step for me. What can I say, I'm maturing.

These are pretty much the simplest thing you can knit, next to a scarf, so if you are new to knitting, don't be intimidated. The only remotely difficult thing is adding stitches to the end of a row which is really just knitting without removing the last stitch. There is an excellent video on how to do it here if you've never done it before (or need a reminder, like me)

Soft Feet Wrap Slippers

Gauge: 3 1/2 sts per inch
Needles: Size 11 circular needles
Yarn: Bulky weight - yardage varies. The small ones take about 60 yards, the medium about 100 and the larger about 120.

Sizes S - child M - large child/small adult L - adult - If you, like me, need to knit a huge pair for some size 13 feet or some other size, let me know and I'll pass on the formula for figuring out what size you need.


Cast on 7 (9, 11) sts. Work sole in garter stitch for 6 1/2 (8, 10) inches.

Row 1: At the end of the last garter stitch row, cast on an additional 18 (24, 30) sts. Turn. 25(33,41) sts
Row 2: Knit to the end of the row then add 18 (24, 30) sts to the other side of the sole. Turn. 43(57,71) sts
Row 3: Purl Across
Row 4:Knit Across
Repeat these last two rows 3 (4, 5) times. Purl one more row.
Switch to a contrasting color. Knit across one row and then cast off while you purl the final row.

(Sorry for the dark photo here, I was seaming at night)
Fold one of the sides down to meet the toe. Starting 1/4 of the way up the side with the contrasting edge, seam down to the toe, across the toe and then all the way up to the heel. Fold the other side over to meet the toe and repeat the process for the opposite edges.

a boy with opinions

A funny thing happened yesterday. Maybe it's been sneaking up on me for a while and I just didn't notice, or maybe it really did spring on me out of the blue, I'm not sure. But either way, yesterday I looked up at my son and realized he was not so little anymore. In fact, he was sort of...a tween.
I blame Old Navy.

Really, I do.

You see, yesterday we stopped by an Old Navy on our way to the Sony Wonder Lab because Briton needed some flip flops and I needed a second sundress since that's all I feel like wearing on hot sticky days. And that's where it started.

Now, for eight years and ten and a half months, my son hasn't cared a whit about what he wore. Unlike his sister who has very definite opinions about her outfits, Briton has always been perfectly content to either put on what I hand him, or, if I'm not standing conveniently by when he's ready to get dressed, whatever is on top will do as well. The only inkling of opinion he has shown on the clothing front is in the shoe department, and that is more an issue of convenience, i.e. he doesn't care for tennis shoes because he has to stop and tie them, he'd rather have slip-ons. And that's it. No other interest in clothes or his hair or what's cool unless we're talking about cool in the Lego universe.

Until yesterday. After mulling (for a strangely long time) over what color of flip flops he preferred, I wanted to go grab him a t-shirt since he seems to have shot up again and outgrown most of the ones I brought with us. I picked one that I liked up and started to head to the checkout.

"Nah, I don't like that one."


Before I could fully register the fact that my son had shown an actual opinion about his clothes he headed over to the table and started pawing through the shirts, finally deciding on one that featured a glow in the dark Big Foot Crossing sign. And then he requested that I buy one that was a little baggy. Because he liked his shirts a loose.

After a moment of mouth hanging open shock, I went with it and pulled out the shirt he liked a size up from what I would normally buy. As soon as we got home, he wanted to change into his new duds. An you know what? He looked....cool. With his overgrown hair (that he doesn't want cut, another opinion) swept to the side in a Bieber-esque style and his oversize shirt he looked like a little surfer. On top of that he just seemed to exude a sense of "Yeah, I'm cool, I know it." He sat on the couch playing Wii with the girl from the sixth floor and looked so big.

I had a little moment of panic. I mean, obviously I knew he was getting older. He turns NINE in less than two months and nine is OLD. But I just thought that he would stay little, longer. How does that happen? How do they get so big so freaking fast?

At least I still get kisses and cuddles before bed. For now...

I don't think I'm ready for a tween people. I really don't.

Holy Cow.

June 28, 2011

groceries, math and the granny cart

Well. It's official. I'm now an 80 year old New Yorker. No, no, I know, I look good for my years, but it's true. How do I know that I'm an 80 year old New Yorker? Well, because this now lives in my bedroom.
Yep, the grocery cart.

I think she needs a name. My cars have always had names and this is probably as close as we'll come here to owning a car in the city. So far Will thinks it should be Melinda and I'm rooting for Broomhilda. I once had a teacher who called his wife Broomhilda. And if a Mrs. Willis was ever turned into a shopping cart, I'd like to think she'd be this kind of shopping cart. Sturdy, efficient, but with a swanky little clip to hold her in place when she's folded up.
Practical though she may be, she's also a little plain. I mean, I know black is slimming and all, but really! Black tires, black frame, black handle? Maybe a little too much black there. I think she needs pimping. I need there to be a Pimp My Grocery Cart show. Or, you know, I could just pimp her myself.

But how did we end up with a grocery cart you ask? Well, Briton and I have been working on a little math challenge involving comparative shopping. Each time we head to the store for a major grocery shop, I make a list and Briton records how much each item costs. And we've been hitting a different store each time in order to figure out which store has the best deals on the things we buy. Before we moved we got all sorts of advice on which store to shop at, everyone had an opinion, which was helpful. Except groceries are muy muy expensive in New York and we are on a much tighter than usual grocery budget (and our grocery shopping was always pretty budget) so I'm hoping that after a few more comparisons, we'll have a better idea about which store is the best one for us to shop at. And a cool graph. Because we like graphs around here. Or, more likely, we'll just see how much we're spending on groceries in this city. (Yikes!)
This weekend the whole family traipsed through the neighborhood to the closest Fairway in the name of further comparison. I'd been to the Fairway on the Upper West Side and, honestly, it was the best grocery store I'd seen in New York. But that one was far and there was, supposedly, a bigger and better one just a mere 10 (as it turned out it was actually more like 17, Google Maps, I tell ya, they are not always right!) blocks from our front door.

When we got there we found that, indeed, it was bigger and better. And almost reasonably priced (still not a lot of generics. There are no freaking generics in this town! I get a twitch in my cheek every time I have to buy a $6 box of Kellogg's Shredded Wheat. Where is the Malt-O-Whatever in the big bags???) So we loaded up, intending to take a cab home. But...it was such a nice day. And there we were by the Hudson River, so pretty. Wouldn't it just be better to walk home through Riverside Park? It would be better to walk, and cheaper without the cab ride. But home was up hill and the bags were, at this point, many. And the cart was just sitting there, next to the checkout line, just willing me to take her home.

So now she sits, folded up, thankfully, in the corner of our bedroom, waiting for her next grocery adventure. And there will be more grocery adventures for her. Because, now that I have her, I've got to see what this baby can do, Right?

I'm thinking flames. She needs flames. What do you think? Would flames be too much?

June 24, 2011

rainy afternoon

My children spent the better part of the day Friday preparing to put on a puppet show in our living room. In fact, other than meals and a twenty minute break during which Evelyn acted out Moses leading his people out of Egypt in song and with the aid of her Calico Critters, that's pretty much all they did all day long.

This mammoth undertaking required two solid hours of creating a large cast of puppets using tongue depressors, paper and a staggering amount of glue (really, thank goodness for Magic Eraser, otherwise I'm not sure my table would ever have been usable again) and then the building of a puppet theater which involved a cereal box, three pages of scrapbooking paper, Modge Podge and an Xacto knife.
And also some parental supervision, due to the sharp blade that was involved.
Notice how it opens on the side so that scenery can be changed? The play involved four seasons so we had to be able to change the background, tree and the apron of the stage to reflect this. No mean feat I tell ya.
In case you hadn't guessed, Evelyn picked the color of the curtains. Naturally.

When they were ready they led me to my seat, the best in the house. I knew it was the best because on it was a slip of paper that said "best vew". I was seated with a contingency of toys on either side and was then treated to the rules of the theater.
I like that they say "moving about" here. Apparently they are now British.
I flagrantly broke this rule and ate a huge bowl of yogurt throughout act one. But they turned a blind eye.
Notice that while glass cups are not allowed, coffee mugs are. They obviously knew that no coffee would be a deal breaker for mom.
I followed this rule and relied on natural light. For the sake of the actors, of course.

The play turned out to be a word for word reenactment of the entire book of Bone volume nine. But after two "intermisens" we had only made it though chapter one. At that point we broke for the afternoon and went outside for some fresh air. But not, of course, before I promised to watch the rest of the play at an as yet to be determined future date.
Seriously, who needs television when you have kids?

snippets from the week

She woke up at least an hour earlier than everyone else, but somehow must have guessed that after a very late night for dad and a nightmare that stole the wee hours from mom and boy, we needed to sleep in. I found her in her room with piles of books around her. She had fed the dog, made herself a snack and was hell bent on reading every book she owns. I guess this is what being five means. I made her french toast as a mid week treat for being such a grown up girl.
We took the sky tram over the East River to Roosevelt Island. Evelyn was scared but her big brother stuck by her and made it all better.
There was a field, steps from the tram, with a breathtaking view of the Queensboro Bridge, worth the white knuckle ride. Especially since we had a kite tucked in our bag.
Which made for a perfect, perfect afternoon

I love the twice a week farmer's market just around the corner. Not only do they have things I've heard of but never been able to buy before (fava beans! garlic scapes!) they have many, many things that I'd never even heard of. I'm currently working my way through the different salad greens. This week we had Lambs Quarter and Mitziko. Both very yummy!

A special trip, just Briton and Will (and some friends!) Taking the Staten Island Ferry to see a ball game. I'm not sure what they like better, the game or the boat ride and the view.
I made her a super princess cape. Because little girls with hot pink Converse shoes should have super princess capes with a hot pink unicorn on the back. We passed a group of rowdy frat boys whistling at passing girls and when they saw her they all stopped to watch her run by, cape billowing. "Oh look! She has a cape! That's so cute!" If she melts even 20 year old boy hearts, what chance does mine have?

Fava Beans! Cooked using this recipe. Yum! Even Evelyn (almost) liked it!

Ahem. Two hours spend sorting Legos by size. Not his mother's son at all ;)

And also, looking through this weeks photos, I just realized that Briton wore the same shirt five out of seven days this week. Boys....

June 22, 2011

a bunk-bedside table:a tutorial

Bedtime is, for the most part, my job in our house. Because our kids share a room and they cannot be trusted to fall asleep on their own, we basically have to read to them until one of them falls asleep. That one is almost always Evelyn. Actually, it is always Evelyn. Except once, when Briton was really tired and Evelyn had napped. I tend to have a stronger reading out loud endurance than Will so I do the reading and hence, the bedtime routine. Plus, I hate to do the dishes. So I do bed, Will does dishes and we're all happy. (By the way, we are currently reading this book which may be one of the best read aloud chapter books I've ever come across)

In theory, I love to put my children to bed. Who doesn't want a nice peaceful end to the day with stories and kisses and sleepy children quietly dozing off? Except bedtime is almost never a peaceful affair around here. It's more of a battle of wills. Who will prevail? Who will go down for the count?

The root of the problem is that my son needs less sleep than I do. It's the truth. He's always been that way. The kid can stay up for hours longer than I can. So, while I may be more than ready for him to drop off to sleep so that I can have a half hour of grown up discussion with my husband before I doze off myself, Briton is only, say, 2/3 of the way through his day. It makes things interesting. Especially since the advent of the bunkbeds.
Remember when I said that the tent over the top bunk cleverly disguised the fact that his bed is never made? Well it also hides his little kingdom of stuff up there. His bed is full of thing to do after his sister has fallen asleep. I can't really argue with that. I used to keep stacks of books under my side of the bed that grew and grew until they pushed out on Will's side and tripped him when he got up in the night. It's genetic. We're bed pack rats. But it's also causing a problem at bedtime.

Imagine, if you will, that it's the end of the day at my house. The kids have, after several false starts, managed to get their teeth brushed, flossed and mouthwashed, had a bedtime drink and then the inevitable glass of water which leads to the even more inevitable last minute bathroom trip and are finally, finally settled down in their beds, ready to hear a story. Evelyn is tucked in with one billion animals around her, I'm sitting down at the foot of her bed with a book and my iphone set to flashlight mode (because the lights are off, otherwise she'll never get to sleep) and Briton is happily ensconced up above in a pile of Legos, graphic novels, sudoku books and who knows what else.

"One upon a time, there was a, Ow! Briton, a book just fell on my head!"

"What book? Bone? I need it! Can I have it back?"

"No! It fell on my head! Why are you dropping things down the crack?"

"I didn't drop it! I moved my foot and it just fell!"

"Fine! Ok, Back to the story. Once upon a time there was a... "


"What was that?"

"Um, a Lego plane?"

This continues until I'm forced to tell him to hold perfectly still until his sister falls asleep, which he hates, which leads to complaining, which lengthens the whole bedtime process because Evelyn can't help butting in with a

"Briiiitttttoooooonnnnn! You're making noooooiiiiisssseee! You're waking me uuuuupppppp!"

His old bed was very handy at catching all of his junk in the ledge that ran all the way around the mattress, plus it had a substantial headboard that was perfect for nightlights, figurines and a variety of newly built Lego creations. But a bunkbed has none of that, it just has cracks between the bed and the wall for things to fall though.

What he needed, I decided, was some kind of shelf. But not one with sharp edges jutting out from the wall that might cause middle of the night head injuries. A triangular shelf that fit into the corner would be perfect. Except where I could find a simple and cheap (preferably free) triangular shelf was anybodys guess.

Round about then I remembered seeing, somewhere on Pinterest, that some brilliant soul had stained a wooden magazine box and attached it to the wall as an entry table. Perfect. Except instead of the corner of the wall, I could use the corner of the bed itself. And instead of stain I could paint in whenever I got around to painting the bed. And luckily enough, I had a couple of wooden magazine boxes hanging around. So after some paper shifting,
And with the aid of three screws (the drill was pretty useless, by the way, because it was too big to fit in the box to do the actual screwing for two of the screws, just go with a screwdriver and some elbow grease)
We had a bunk bedside table.
Plenty of room for his books, a surface for his toys and a lamp (which I screwed right into the table. Just be sure you aren't going to hit any wires and make sure it's unplugged when you drill the hole through) and nice curved injury free corners.

My head is so much happier now.


I pass him every morning. Nigella pulling me along with impatience to get to the park, to be off leash, to run with the other dogs, except not because when she get there she will be shy and hug my side like a child hiding behind a mother's skirt.
He stands facing the traffic along Riverside Drive, saluting the city. Dancing, praying, greeting the morning with his fluidly waving arms and legs.

In the park I will see others in their morning meditation, sitting cross legged in the trees or gazing out at the Hudson, seeking as much peace and quiet as the park allows. But not this man. With his long, ratty dreadlocks and his ragged clothes, he preforms his morning ritual, oblivious, or maybe just ignoring, the dogs and runners and commuters who stare as they go past.

When we first arrived, Nigella and I walked in every expanding circles each morning, exploring the neighborhood a little more each day. Broadway to 110th to Amsterdam and home, Broadway to 107th to Columbus and home. Using these walks to find the post office, a ballet studio, an office supply store, places we would, at some point, need to know. But lately we've been heading down to the park, where dogs can be off leash until nine. I love this morning walk. Even in the rain. Even in the heat, although, we'll see how I feel about that when July and August hit. The chance to walk without constantly pointing out this or that, answering questions or calling warnings. "See that?" "Keep up!" "slow down!" "Yes... no... possibly". To walk, at my own pace, well, sometimes at the dogs pace, but mostly at my own.

It's strange to say this, but on our way down - sometime around 8 unless I'm very very on the ball and get it together earlier - the streets around our apartment seem almost quiet. As though the city is still asleep. There are still buses and cars and taxis and people, this is New York , after all, and nothing is ever really quiet. But they feel quiet. We head down the hill, toward the park, and past the man. Seeing him now a part of our morning routine.

Less than an hour later, on our way back up toward home, everything seems louder, busier, awake. I can't decide if it is me that is more awake on the return trip or if the bustle just doesn't get going around here until after nine. Past the man, who is finishing up his salute now, past the coffee shop full of summer students, past the bookstore - a pause to see what they have in the window today, always something good. Past the homeless man who sometimes barks at me. Past the fruit vendor and on Thursdays, the Farmers Market. Past the library and the playgarden. And back home where, if I'm lucky, the coffee will be hot and waiting.

June 21, 2011

the map wall

Before I get started whinging (and I'm going to whinge, but only for a bit) I should begin by saying that I know I'm lucky to live in New York and at the same time, have three bedrooms at my disposal. I really do. I had expected to have one really, and Will and I were fully prepared to sleep in the living room for the year. So truly, I know I'm a lucky girl.
But since we do have them...our dining room/office/school room has been driving me a little nuts. We bought a table before coming, having measured the room on our little floor plan and deciding that this one would fit and still give us plenty of room to work. But at the time we had hoped to somehow squeeze a little table for eating into the kitchen. Alas the kitchen has some space at one end but not enough to eat in, so the office/school space had to serve for dining as well. I know that we could just eat in the living room but I really, really like to have a sit down dinner every night. Even if it's a disastrous, chaotic three minutes of eating, at least we're all sitting down together, know what I mean? And while the table was a good size for a pushed-against-the-wall desk, it's a bit big as a pulled-out-from-the-wall table. But we can squeeze.

The thing that really bothered me was that it didn't feel like a dining room, or an office or a school room. It just felt blah. The shelves, which we got free off of someone moving out the week we moved in, are jam packed and too shallow to hold our things and the yellowy walls look more yellowy with the random world map and periodic table on the wall. Not pretty. And, ridiculous as it is. I like pretty. We spend a lot of time in this room, we're going to spend a lot of time in this room. So I really needed to like it, at least a little bit more.
So I did some thinking. As in, I sat in the room a lot staring at the walls. It's a good thing my kids are currently in a "don't bother us we're playing Lego's phase" because otherwise my staring at the wall would have been a bit, um, neglectful.

I liked the idea of maps, but the too colorful ones I'd bought weren't really doing it for me.
What I really wanted, I decided, was one of those cool pull down sets of maps that used to be in every high school history classroom. Funky enough to look good in a dining room, but useful too. Other than the whole, inaccuracy of old maps thing. Except wowza, those things are expensive. And heavy to ship. And totally not doable.
Happily, while I was scrolling through maps on ebay I found many, many offerings of piles of old National Geographic maps. Cheap. So I picked one and figured,what the heck, if they didn't work, I could always use them as wrapping paper. The set I bought came, coincidentally, from New Jersey, so they showed up the day after I paid for them. And after a morning of shifting chairs that had been nightstands and closet storage and some more neglectful-but-for-Lego-mania map hanging time, we had a more dining friendly space and a map wall.
And as ridiculous as it sounds, I'm so much happier now. We eat there, we play there, we study (a very little bit so far, but it's summer still) there, Evie spends hours gluing, cutting and coloring there. We like it in there. And I guess that means it was worth the stupid deco-worrying.
There are still things to do. I'm on the lookout for an armoire to replace the shelves before they fall completely apart. Something that can hold all our papers and glues and computer books and teaching materials more efficiently and maybe even have room for some more things to come. I'd like to get a few more plants for the table and a less yellow light cover would be lovely, but that will come. For now, I'm just happy not to want to cringe every night at dinner.
What do ya think? Better? Any thoughts on making it better still? What else could I use as storage? Ideas?

June 20, 2011

lost on the A train

We had a double whammy holiday in the house yesterday, with both Father's Day and Will's birthday falling on the same day this year. I'm sure it's happened before, probably seven years ago, but for some reason I can't remember it. I'll blame mommy brain. After all, I would have had a one year old at the time and that first year of Briton's life is pretty much a blur of feed, change diaper, try to sleep, bounce in the bouncy chair, feed, repeat.
Yesterday Will had to scoot off to studio for the morning to get some work done but we got to spend the afternoon and evening with Jason, one of our oldest friends and godfather extraordinaire, who happened to be in town for work. After puttering around the apartment, the playgarden and the campus, we wandered down Riverside park, catching up while the kids rode scooters and Briton tried his best to dominate the conversation with Ninjago (Ninja Lego's for those of you who do not have an eight year old boy in the house) talk (At one point I told him that he should try talking to us about something other than Lego's and he said "Mom, I'd rather not talk at ALL than not talk about Lego's! Asking me not to talk about Lego's is like, like, THE WORST THING EVER!")

Eventually we got hungry and decided to go to Brooklyn for dinner. This would be our New York equivalent of "let's go for a drive and see where we end up" because we didn't actually have a restaurant or even a street in mind, never having been to Brooklyn other than my recent trip to the craft festival, but we decided that if we aimed for the neighborhood just over the Brooklyn Bridge, which Will dimly remembered as being downtownish from driving through en route (in a circular, round the city kind of way) to returning the moving truck. We walked up to the closest subway station and hopped on the train. And then things went a little south.
The train was crazy crowded. Where on earth people were heading on a Sunday evening, I'm not sure, but they were all trying to get downtown. By the time we changed to the A train to head for Brooklyn, Evelyn was fast asleep in Will's arms, Briton was hitting the hunger wall and Jason and I were hauling the scooters. And then the conductor came on the loud speaker.

I wish I spoke conductor.

You know how Lily on How I met Your Mother can understand the most garbled announcement on the subway? Well, that's a talent I need to develop. Because, even after two stops and four repetitions of the announcements, all I could gather was that the train we were on was not headed to where we wanted to go. I'm sure there was something in there about how to get where we wanted to go, but we never figured that out. Instead, we turned around and headed north again.

On the wrong train.

Because none of us have the sharpest eyesight anymore and it was really hard to tell what letter the map on the phone screen said. It could have been disastrous. I probably would have gotten huffy about my day being ruined but Jason and Will were unflappable. Hauling kids and scooters and helmets up and down subway stairs, shrugging it off when, yet again, we buzzed right through the station we thought we were getting off at. Because they are both that kind of dad.

Eventually, several trains later, we ended up at a burger joint right by our street celebrating Father's Day at last. And you know what? It was perfect. Beer and burgers and fries and friends and kids who were revived by a cat nap and some ice cream. Perfect.
Happy Father's day to all the dads out there, (And most especially to my own wonderful dad and husband) who balance work and school and friends and family and still manage to smile and have a good time in life. Who take it in stride when they have to sit in a crowded studio for part of their special day and smile when their wives assure them that this is the right train, honestly, oops maybe not and love wonky paintings and slobbery kisses for joint birthday/Father's Day gifts.

We love you.

Even when you decide that your Birthday cannoli is just too good to share. It's ok, you deserve to eat the whole box.

June 17, 2011

snippets from the week

Briton's been in a crafty mood this week, making (and selling on the sidewalk) kites, cranking out father's day cards and art for daddy's upcoming birthday and working on pop ups, his new talent. This one is my favorite. It's our apartment building with a teeny tiny Will up in the window, Evie playing on the swings in the playgarden and in front? That's me, dropping my phone. It's hard to see but my face is clearly making an "Oh!" Which is probably more polite than what I really said in the moment.
Over the weekend the kids and I went over to Brooklyn to the Renegade Craft Festival. On the way there we saw a pay to park place with this sign. I love that you can park your bike, although a buck seems a little steep.

These egg cups were my favorite thing at the Festival. I'm not sure if it's brilliant or super freaky. I didn't buy them since we tend to need sturdier vessels for egg soldiers in our house, but I had to take a picture.
The Pick a Brick wall at the Lego store was pretty cool. Even for me. And I wasn't ever a Lego girl myself. Lots of possibilities there. Briton has already started making a list of parts he needs to get next time we go.
The Library Lions. In -
and out
Most of the week was sunny, but cool, which was kind of heavenly, I'm not going to lie.
But it did rain on the day of the Festival of Museum Mile where Fifth Avenue is closed down to traffic and the museums along it are all free for the evening. We had a great time at the Jewish Museum. We went to see the Matisse Exhibit at Briton's request but then made a quick exit when he decided the nudes were a bit much for him (hilarious eye aversion) and headed upstairs to the Maria Kalman room. I'd never heard of her before but as it turns out, she wrote and illustrated my favorite ever New York children's book. While the museum was fun, I think the best part was walking down the middle of a car free Fifth Avenue in the rain. Beautiful.

This weekend we hope to go to the Brooklyn Flea (Yay! Exciting!) and it's Will's turn for a Birthday. I think we are all caked out though so we'll have to figure something else out for a scrummy birthday dessert! Have a wonderful weekend everyone! See you next week!