Monthly Archives: March 2013

First @mikegrundy tells Siri to call me Late For Dinner, then he pisses her off by talking about pod bay doors.

For the spinning wheel out for the first time ever and made some yarn. !!! #!!!

That Friday morning where your whole week catches up with you and you are can’t get out of bed tired. #offtowork

For the record I have always enjoyed a good short shorts jumper.

This story is hilarious and sweet. Motorcyclists are such good people.…

Happy belated 5th anniversary @mikegrundy! #sceneofthecrime #swedishmeatballs

Stop Telling Women to Smile street art: “demanding a woman’s attention…intruding on space & thoughts is not okay.”

That thing where you have to jump out of bed both days on the weekends and then you end up lying around on Monday morning. #backtowork

This weekend I ran a 5K/yarn crawled/knit at a winery w my knitters/went to a woodworking convention. Unrelated pics:

. @beatonna I laughed and laughed at Anne of Cleves Gables.…

“Women are still considered “other.” Women are not citizens in the same way (white) (straight) men are citizens.”…

That beautiful moment when your (proper and ladylike) H&S trainer says “balls out” twice during your OSHA HAZWOPER refresher class.

SIMPLE PRO TIP: dudes, avoid having your “promising young futures” destroyed by NOT RAPING PEOPLE.… #steubenville

Spring sports


Spring sports officially started today. Nine had his first baseball practice and Thirteen had lacrosse. It was COLD. 30 deg F or less and snowing intermittently. I wore my snow skirt and chattered on the sidelines. Total besters move, though, was bringing them hot chocolate for after the practice.

I tell you, though – the hardest part about modern parenting seems to be squeezing it all in. Baseball is at 5 PM and lacrosse is at 5:15. Thankfully Thirteen is old enough to be left alone at the field, but the very real complication of having to get from work 45 miles away by car (me) or 2 hrs on a train (mike) every single day of the week to a sports practice by 5p – when most of my colleagues are still plugging away – remains. We will have to rely heavily on the Grammy brigade, I believe.

number 5 in #35to36

Dudes, step-parenting is so complex and can only be managed w sappy open letters to embarrassment prone kids. #35to36

Open Letter to my Little Dudes


Dear Little Dudes,

Thirteen, remember how yesterday someone asked me if you were my son? I am writing this letter to let you and your brother know that in my head, I faced the always-there questions: will this new person ever find out that I’m lying if I just say: “yes?” will this get back to the rest of your family? will someone catch me if I claim you as my own?

I’m not sure if you two have noticed – especially because for so many years you have been so gleeful to tell people that I’m NOT your mother, and perhaps because I’m so quick to say “but you two HAVE a mother,” – but I am constantly weighing the pros and cons of just saying “Yes, this IS my son.” And it’s not out of any kind of creepy acquisition or or baby-stealing desire, I promise. Out of respect for you and for your mom, of course I will keep calling you my stepsons. It’s just… I’m so tired of the term “step” being so loaded. I don’t want you to think that love you any less than I do, or even less than I possibly could. Stepson is not a less-than proposition. You are my only sons, my lovely and infuriating and charming sons. It’s just that – you ARE my stepsons. That’s the way this family was built. And in a world of labels and buckets, where it seems like everyone must fit in just so or risk tearing the fabric of society irreparably, well. I’m forever reduced to expediency, honesty, and respect, and I have to tell people you’re my stepson.

Thirteen, after you and I got home last night there was nothing better in the world than sitting on the loveseat next to you and prepping for your next big math project (due next tuesday) while you sawed on a harmonica like a politely surly hobo. Nine, having you sit across the room on the couch fiercely creating things in minecraft while your dad looked up hedgehog videos on his phone – I’m hard put to describe a better fifteen minutes of family bliss.

So, look: you both delight me. I am devoted to your success and happiness. I brag on you and bite my tongue so as not to be boring to other people who aren’t as interested in you as I am. I’m sorry that there are so many evil stepmonster stories out there and they all make “stepson” feel like such a sad term. I am so proud of my stepsons. And honestly, I’m not worried that you aren’t aware of how much I love and care for you. I think we do a pretty good job of telling each other how we feel. But sometimes I want to make the world understand that too. You two are amazing, and interesting, and sometimes intolerable. You’re my kids. My stepkids, but — That’s not less than anything. It’s all of everything.


Your horribly embarrassing stepmonster.

PS: I am writing this as an open letter so you never have to read it or hear it from me, and if you do read it, you can pretend it never happened. BUT IT’S ALL TRUE. LOVE YOU, PEACHES.

Sappiest post yet for number 4: #35to36

relating to how five years ago today I met @mikegrundy at an ikea for a date. #35to36

Five years ago I met a dude at ikea.

Mike and I had our five year anniversary this weekend. We went to Woodstock, stayed at a B&B, and mostly slept, read, and ate delicious food. The B&B was on a stream and there was skipping of rocks. The sun was out and hot, and we sat in Adirondack chairs and read long-overdue library books. We walked into Woodstock and window-shopped, and looked at art. We took a nap. I ate cherry jam with breakfast. It was so great.


I was dealing with a horrible gastrointestinal illness that caused my insides to roar like a dragon in a number of terrible ways, but I didn’t stop eating the delicious foods or from making them spicier than they were delivered to me. Clearly, this was something that was going to need to pass with time. Saltines and clear broth wouldn’t have helped. (I don’t think.) I regret nothing.


On the way home we took the scenic route – seriously, we added an extra 100+ miles onto our trip, and drove all around the Catskills. It was just lovely.

digicam 868

So five years ago today, I met this guy Mike at Ikea. He said he thought it would be a nice place for a date, and, worst case scenario, he needed a new TV stand anyway. We left without a TV stand and a month later he was brave enough to come to my birthday party and meet all my friends en masse. He brought me a pair of pajama pants he’d sewn himself. Nicely played, new boyfriend. Nicely played indeed.

post number three in #35to36

Already a day behind on #35to36. Wherein I make garlic soba noodles and they are delicious: (really, it’s thrilling.)

2013 Recipe 2: Garlic Soba Noodles

Last night we didn’t have the little dudes, so I was free to make whatever I wanted, aka, weird foods I know they won’t eat. This tortures me, y’all. I wish they were interested in eating the weird foods I like to cook. I even wish they were interested in trying weird foods and then having a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner. For that matter I wish they were interested in JELLY. What kind of kid doesn’t like jam or jelly? It is SO HARD to figure out what these dudes will eat!

Sans children, last night I made Garlic Soba Noodles.


So super good, y’all!

This recipe probably took about 30 min. start to finish, but I say probably because there was a bunch of puttering and interim dishes washing. Also I didn’t have bread crumbs, so I substituted smashed saltine crackers, and I didn’t have fresh greens, so I substituted frozen curly kale from my winter CSA. Also no green onions, so I diced half of an onion that was languishing on the counter and cooked it up before throwing in the frozen kale. We will probably cook tofu like this a lot in the future – it was really super good.

Also, I don’t usually use much (any) salt in the cooking so last night I took a chance and followed the recipe and it had a LOT of salt in it (like, a couple of teaspoons, probably – all pinches and dashes) and darn it if it wasn’t delicious. There is, you know, a strong folk tradition of tales admonishing people to put salt in their food. It involves princesses, and sometimes kings full of needles, and sometimes pomegranates full of diamonds. I think they’re on to something.

This is a #35in36 post, and I’m already a day behind. Darn it! two posts today it is!