Happy Birthday, Mister T!

Our nephew is three!

  
The Princess and I made him a chocolate cake with fresh strawberries and peanut butter frosting.  The cake was good; the frosting was awesome.  I'd never made PB frosting before, so I hunted around on the Internet for some ideas.  Everyone seemed to be using Ina Garten's recipe, and giving it rave reviews.  I made mine using a bit less butter and sugar, and a pinch more salt and vanilla.  Just to be contrary.


  

Strawberries were the perfect fresh counterpoint.  Next time, I think I'll add some sliced bananas between the layers, too...

The only downside to this particular confection was that poor Tiny and his similarly-aged cousin -- neither of whom is eating nuts yet -- were forced to look on with legitimately drooly mouths.  Poor kiddos.   

Backhanded Love Poems

There once was a baby named Tiny
Who had an adorable hiney
He'd make messes, he'd bite
He would wail through the night
But I'm awfully glad that he's miney


The Princess!  My heart she has caught-y
She's cute even when she is naughty
The girl is supernal
My love is eternal
But gosh! I wish she'd use the potty


The Doglets are small and they're yappy
Their manners are, frankly, quite crappy (sometimes literally)
Their gig would be done
'Cept I love Mr. One
And they make him so terribly happy

Overly Affectionate Nannies? Ask 5.

Q:We live on a street with about 20 kids under the age of eight. Everyone gets along really well, except one of the families has a live-in nanny who insists on picking up my daughter and hugging her and kissing her. My (almost 3 year old) daughter is many things, but accommodating to overly-touchy-near-strangers is not one of them. The nanny speaks almost no English, and is an older lady. I'm sure that it's just a part of her culture to be so touchy... but how do I get her to stop bugging my kid? (PS: talking to the mother (the nanny's boss) isn't an option--it would be incredibly uncomfortable all around, and she can be a bit aloof.)

A(x5):

One (Loves her kids even more than she hates conflict): Never one to shy away from a righteous confrontation, I have no doubt our own Mom could resolve the fawning nanny situation in a flash, (and the woman (and her boss) would become Mom's lifelong friends and disciples. . . or she'd verbally ninja-chop their teeth out. But I digress). Mom also taught us that doing/not doing/enduring stuff that you don't want to do/desperately want to do/think will kill you is an essential life tool. Presuming hugs from the weirdo nanny won't actually hurt your kid, I'd try to cram some lesson about getting along and respecting the elderly down her sweet little throat and tell her to deal with it. I certainly wasted many youthful hours feeling angry/bitter/miserable about Mom's faintly Tiger-esque "buck up, Kiddo!" approach to things. But it's the reason I can swim, went to college and converse with customer service representatives without resorting to felonious violence. Thanks, Mom!!


Two (Practicing Invalid): Tell the lady your daughter is immuno-suppressed (only if she is, of course...). People can't argue with that.

Three (Senior Scientist-ish): I had a friend named Igor P. who was obsessed with how he could make his dog salivate. Personally I'd be more impressed if he could get the b%#ch to stop slobbering, but I digress. Every day he'd ring a bell before bringing in Fido's food. After a while of this the dog would hear the bell, expect his dinner, and yes, drool. Eventually, the poor puppy just had to hear the bell to get her glands going.
I hear you saying "thanks for the mediocre science lesson Three, but what does this dog have to do with my baby?" Well I love babies, but even I have been known to relinquish my darling Tiny if he's sobbing. So here's what you do. Every time the nanny comes into view pinch your three year-old, HARD. This should in turn make the child cry. Eventually no pinch will be necessary, and the mere sight of the nuzzling-nanny will be enough to turn your bundle of joy into an inconsolable mess.
Case Closed.


Four (Resident Expert on Unwanted Hugs): As someone who often receives distressing hugs (usually from someone whose name rhymes with Spruce), I can say--with complete authority--that they suck. Hugs should be comforting representations of affection, but when they come from someone who you honestly don't feel any real affection towards, they become agonizingly awkward--and occasionally smelly--body sandwiches (I know the analogy is weak, but whatever). Despite my disdain for these wretched embraces, I must urge you not to intervene. As someone whose mother never, ever sided with her children on things like this, I think it served me well in the long run. I learned to deal with uncomfortable situations and--though it didn't turn me into a picture of tolerance and love--it did equip me to function effectively in most settings. I would tell your daughter to count her blessings. She's lucky to have this sweet foreign nanny hugging her instead of a lecherous 300+ lb, sexagenarian man. . .

Five (President, AntiSocial Party): As one who has never really dug hugs (especially from unfamiliar sources), I understand that platonic PDAs can be legit scarring. Some people just don't get that not everyone appreciates being squeezed by their love vice, and it can be awkward to inform them so. I'd suggest deception as a possible solution: try to convey to the nanny that your daughter has a chronic and communicable virus. If that doesn't stop her, train your daughter to hack on the nanny every time she embraces (preferably with spraying saliva). This should engage the reptilian center of the woman's brain, which cares more about self-preservation than displays of affection.

Humans are such amusing creatures. . .

A superb little video from the splendiferous folks at

National Public Radio (Hoho! Irony! . . . You get it? No? Yes? No.).

via www.swiss-miss.com

And, speaking about answers to questions . . .

First ever Ask 5 tomorrow

Featuring: wrinkly faces and awkward embraces!

Stuffed French Toast

Here is the recipe for the "Stuffed French Toast" I made on Monday. It was a little sweet-probably because I added extra sugar...oops!--but the masses seemed to enjoy it! The recipe is taken (almost directly) from MarthaStewart.com, so any grievances about it can be taken up with her... :)

Image courtesy of  Food Blogga

Serves 4

• 1 loaf bread (about 4 inches in diameter), cut into eight 1-inch-thick slices
• 3 tablespoons apricot jam
• 1/4 cup (2 ounces) cream cheese, room temperature
• 2 large eggs
• 1/2 cup milk
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1 to 2 tablespoons butter
• Pure maple syrup, for serving (optional)

Using a paring knife, cut a horizontal slit in each bread slice to form a pocket. In a bowl, blend jam and cream cheese. Spoon 1 tablespoon mixture into each pocket.

In a shallow bowl, whisk together eggs, milk, and cinnamon until combined. In a large nonstick skillet, melt 1 tablespoon butter over medium-low heat. Lay half the bread slices in egg mixture, letting them soak 5 seconds on each side.

Place slices in skillet; cook until golden brown, 3 to 4 minutes per side. Repeat with remaining bread, adding more butter to skillet if needed. If desired, serve French toast with syrup, whipped cream, bananas foster or fresh fruit.

Read more at Marthastewart.com: Apricot-Stuffed French Toast - Martha Stewart Recipes 

Yeah!

Brother L shared this with me (and most people he knows) a couple years ago.
It's become my go-to anthem for when I feel like I could explode with happiness.

Breakfast In Space

The space was actually our living room in Denver (where I"ll be hanging until my medical stuff gets sorted out) but we DID have a real, live ASTRONAUT c/o Four. Actually, he's not an astronaut yet, but he's got a pretty good chance of it -- at least one in a hundred, which is a million times better than one in a hundred million, like the rest of us.

Luckily, the ASTRONAUT didn't have to rely on his space skills to enjoy an out of this world brunch, created by Four and Brother S (whose chosen nick name, while apt, might seem inappropriate in this context, so we'll just call him Brother S).

So Brother S made two ENORMOUS loaves of challah -- probably four pounds each. Four proceeded to stuff them with all kinds of delights, coat them in eggs and cook them to perfection.  Our stuffed french toast was accompanied by the fluffiest of whipped creams: the first whipping wasn't adequate, so Four went back to whip them 'til it behaved.  (If we're lucky, four might share the recipe on Thursday!)

Finally, Brothers Z and S brueled grapefruit which I didn't eat, but had rave reviews by all diners present.

The total of these parts was an other worldly experience of pure, culinary pleasure.  

For your consideration...

It's award season, and the Princess is hoping to ride the royal coattails of The King's Speech to a dark horse victory in the little-known categories of Best Live Action Short Starring a Dirty-faced Toddler and Best Actress/Composer/Librettist in an Operatic Comedy.

SIX!

"I love being married. It's so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life."

-Rita Rudner

Happy Anniversary, Mr. One!

Thanks for making me happy, keeping me sane and inspiring me every single day. I'd say I couldn't possibly love you more, but that's what I thought six years ago.

Sweepstakes Fail (or maybe win?)

*actual mailer received by the TD family 

Ask 5

I'm a major fan of the Social Q's column in the New York Times. It's a little bit like "Dear Abby", but much funnier. The thing that sets it apart from most advice columns is that the author, Phillip Galanes, tends to write trite, sarcastic, and *sometimes* downright snarky replies instead of the overly courteous responses that most have come to expect from such columns. Social Q's was part of the impetus behind Five's decision to start its very own question section. That's right. Now, whenever you encounter a sticky situation that makes you question everything you thought you knew, just send us an email (at fivetdsisters@gmail.com) with the deets. We will post your questions with FIVE different perspectives on the matter!

In the interest of full disclosure:

1.The views expressed in answers will be those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect those of the greater TD clan (I was coerced into writing that).

2. We promise not to be quite as cutting as Social Q's Phillip Galanes.

3. We promise that some of the advice will be way off base. But between 5 different--relatively well adjusted ladies--we promise you can expect to get something helpful from at least one of us...Right guys?

4. We promise to accept questions about children, dating, decorating, dogs, fashion, finances, food, health, nutrition, travel and what to do about awkward hugs from unwanted sources. We may not be experts, but that doesn't mean we won't have opinions!

5. Finally, we promise that Five's "Q's" will be highly entertaining...at least some of the time :)

Below are a two of my favorite social dilemmas from the past few of weeks. Enjoy!

*note: In the interest of concision, I've edited them down a little.

Boys in Tresses

We are Jewish but not religious. We have a 2-year-old son whose hair we are not going to cut until he is 3, which is traditional among very religious Jews. Strangers in restaurants often mistake him for a girl. Should we correct them?

S. M.

You’ve thoroughly confused me on the religion front...but to answer your question, don't correct them. We don’t really care whether Goldilocks is a boy or a girl, as long as his screaming doesn’t ruin our dinner.

A Gift, Not My Idea 
My sister is generous and loves giving gifts for every occasion: babies, birthdays, engagements. She asks all of us, her siblings, to contribute a certain amount; and if we feel it’s too steep, she tells us to contribute what we like, and she’ll cover the difference. I think this is a tremendous imposition. Any ideas?
Anonymous


Let me get this straight: Your sister shops for all the gifts and pays for them, and you feel put upon? Here’s an idea: Send her to my house.
Still, you make a fair point: whether and how to gift is your prerogative. So, if you don’t like this communal arrangement, try, “I appreciate all your shopping, Sis, but I’m going to start doing it for myself.”
Be careful, though. As Joni Mitchell sang (about paradise and parking lots): Sometimes, “you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”
 *questions and answers courtesy of Phillip Galanes at the NYT 

Lovenapped!

Dr. P was on call on Valentines day, and as one who isn't all that fond of the day to begin with, I was more than happy to volunteer to babysit so Mr. and Mrs. One could have a much needed romantic night out.

But lucky me, Dr. P really enjoys opportunities to demonstrate his love for me! (barf, I know :-) He took me captive and carried (or bussed) me across state lines to go see Iphigénie en Tauride live at the Met in New York! It was so sweet and so unexpected for sooo many reasons including (but not limited to)

1) I love Opera, but for Dr. P it's something of a snooze (quite literally actually)
2) It's very hard to keep secrets from me (I snoop!)
3) He was indulging one of my long-standing celebrity crushes, namely Plácido Domingo.
(His voice turns my spine to jelly)

I feel so loved, and I know just how I'm going to show Dr. P how much I loved it. Next time he wants to watch football, I'm going to sit down, shut up, and order the pizza.

The beautiful light fixtures at Lincoln Center

Me: Reveling in the wonder of Plácido Domingo's voice
Dr. P: Waking from a lovely nap

Never out of the woods

There is this romanticized concept of getting "out of the woods." We wander, we work, we try for a time and then we will be rewarded for our efforts by the work ending. I thought a lung transplant was kind of like this. Once I got past the first year, I had to take my meds and avoid crowded spaces. If I did it was going to be smooth sailing -- at least for a while. But life just isn't that simple. Just because we do one thing well or get through one challenging situation doesn't mean that we're off the hook. It doesn't mean that the work ends or that there won't be other challenges.

What I have found is how much lighter those challenges are made by having friends and family who support you through the rough spots. Y and I came to Cleveland expecting a clean bill of health and were given something else. I was angry. I feel like I've done my time and I was looking forward to doing some more pleasant time in the coming years. But even pleasant years have challenges -- be they dirty diapers, difficult husbands, challenging social lives, etc. We all have a cross to bear and this whole health thing seems to be mine.

While I might not be "out of the woods," there is more beauty and love inside of them than I could have ever anticipated.

Whatever Floats Your Boat!

Most Disappointing Valentine EVER

Five Cheers for Love!

I love love. I can't help myself. Love it. Please sign out now if a couple short paragraphs of chocolate-covered amore will inspire nausea or homicidal tendencies. We won't judge. In fact, I imagine some of my sisters have already excused themselves...

I'm sure the reason I think love is so perfectly grand is that I have such an inspiring partner in affection. In addition to being my husband, Mr. One is: handsome, brainy, witty, kind, determined, competent, my first real boyfriend and the only man I've ever truly loved. He utterly and completely swept me off my feet when I was 17, and set such a high bar for romance, that in eight Valentine's Days that passed between our first kiss and our wedding, the only person to ever out-do him was himself. So, today's post goes out to the Prince of My Heart, the Love of My Life, the inimitable Monsieur Un.

Top 5 Valentine Memories

(in chronological order)

1. 1998 -- (Yes, I met my husband in the 90's. I know. We're old.) Mr. One orchestrated a magical treasure hunt around campus. Throughout the day, he hid cryptic clues and beautiful flowers in portentous places, like the spot where my parents met and the scene of our inaugural smooch. I must have been completely head-over-heels, because somehow by the end of the night, I was convinced he could cook.

2. 2001 -- I flew from grad school in England for a dreamy visit in Chicago. Love is absolutely the only thing that could possibly inspire an otherwise sane person to a) visit Chicago in February, and, b) sincerely believe that it was the Best Trip Ever. Considering how much time we spent talking on the phone that year, the visit probably saved us some money, too...

3. 2004 -- I watched my grandfather officiate at the wedding of a dear family friend outside the Conservatory at Golden Gate Park. Her beautiful ceremony inspired my own romantic eureka!

i.e., "Maybe the reason you haven't fallen for any of the terribly fall-worthy fellas you're dating is that your heart is, as ever, otherwise occupied." Duh!

4. 2006 -- New York City. Our first V-Day as Mr. & Mrs.

5. 2010 -- Mr. One surprised me with a perfect replica of the spendy bed I'd been drooling over, made with his own two hands in our friend's basement.

I understand that Valentine's Day is a silly holiday. And I am well aware that Mr. One is both a Republican and pathologically unable to put his socks in the hamper. But man, can that man rise to a romantical occasion. And what a lucky girl I am for yet another reminder of just what a lucky girl I am.

P and J's Tin Party

Earlier this month, we had the pleasure of celebrating some of our dearest friends. Contrary to what the title may lead you to believe, this in no way involved dressing up in uncomfortable metal sleep-wear. No, P and J are celebrating their 10th anniversary, which has apparently been christened 'Tin'. . . 

I was a bit shocked that a decade together merits such an underwhelming metal. I mean, that's a

LONG time. . .

Before Harry Potter movies. . .

. . . and Wikipedia.

It at least deserves to be called the 'Copper' anniversary.

 Maybe 'Copper Alloy'.

It definitely deserves more cred than 'Tin' though.

 Not that I have anything against tin. . .

Aaaaaaaanyway, Congratulations P and J! We're psyched to celebrate your silver, gold, platinum, and adamantium anniversaries with you as the years go by.

* headgear in the above pictures courtesy of Mohammed, our Saudi exchange student

Happy Birthday Dad!

We Love You!

When you care enough to click send

A few days ago, my friend posted this witty e-card on facebook.

It was so funny--so apt--that I had to investigate its origins. Turns out she found it on the website 

someecard--which is chock full of similarly biting treasures.

Here are a few of my personal favorites:

    

 If you choose to visit the website, just know that some some of the cards are kind of crass.

If you're not really into the sardonic nature of these cards, kate spade has some alternatives which are definitely not as funny, but at least twice as cute.

I Want to Paint it Black

It's not that I want to paint it black, but more that I have been. To clarify, I'm in a fashion rut, and if the title of this post didn't give it away this rut is of the muddy-greyish-black variety. I don't know how I got here, I didn't even realize I was stuck. Dr. P actually noticed it, he was worried I might be dressing grey because I'm feeling blue (he's really sweet like that). The truth is that my attire doesn't match my mood in the slightest. I feel like I'm in Candy Land, but my clothes are stuck in the Molasses Swamp. I blame Lord Licorice's henchmen the Winter Wearlock and the Office Wear-wolf (heh heh).

Here are a few dresses I'm thinking of getting to help me pull a little wardrobe ka-POW, and get my bum back to FUN!


What are your go-to secrets for keeping the winter drab away?

Don't mess with...

I am of an old western persuasion and have been a devout Coloradoan for most of my life. But as most of you know, I am now a little Texan too. So I decided to take a trip to see what makes things tick deep in the heart of Texas. And you know what? I've decided I make a darn good quasi-Texan.

So here are the fruits of my latest little fact-finding mission: My Top 5 reasons why I'm glad to (have at least part of me) hail from the Lone Star state:

5. They're nice. And when I say nice, I mean blessedly so. I was walking back from the opera house when a torrential downpour began. I ran to the closest hotel and asked if they could help get me a taxi. No taxis would come, so the hotel sent me back to my hotel 8 or 10 minutes away in their own SUV for free. See what I mean? Nice.

4. It's a genuine melting pot (or should I say pot of TexMex chili?). According to the U.S. Census, 36.9% of Texans identify themselves as Latino or of Hispanic descent, 12% as black. Pacific Islanders, American Indians, Asians and "others" comprise about 5 or so percent. It makes places like NEW YORK seem downright homogeneous.

3. It's BIG. Not Alaska Big, but big. And unlike Alaska, there are almost 25 MILLION people there. Which makes for...

2. Great art, food, music and culture. Rice University is there. The Houston Grand Opera is there. The Gaylord Texan is there... ummm... yes... well, it can't ALL be great culture. But really... Texas has natural resources which have produced $$$ resources that people have funneled into great artistic resources. Which makes me happy.

Houston airport art is beautiful. Denver airport art is not. Just sayin'.

1. Larger than life, exhibitionism and exceptionalism. Texas actually WAS a whole other country. That's why they think different rules apply to them. And they are somewhat right. For example, Texas is the ONLY state in the union that has the legal right to assert its sovereignty from the U.S. I can relate to this. People often tell me that I live in a bubble and assume different rules apply to me -- but they do! I can't shake people's hands, I cut to the front of security lines, sit in secluded corners and engage in all manner of what under normal circumstances might be considered rude and antisocial behavior because of my delicate Texan lungs (which were, as a matter of fact, a little too big). Somehow, it seems appropriate.

So when in doubt, don't mess with

The Pleasures and Perils of Snow in the City

A Church marquee in New York recently read

There has been no shortage of the stuff here and New Yorkers are totally sick of it.  It’s cold.  It’s wet. It's icy.  Within a few hours or days, it turns black and muckie.  Unless it’s Christmas Eve, snow is something New Yorkers are happy to forgo.

This is why I will never really be a New Yorker.  
New York got heaps of snow -- 19 inches in 24 hours and about a foot in the days before.  Other than the occasional cab or hired car, New York seemed empty.  Covered in white, it was like what heaven would look like it if was set in New York City.  There hasn't been a day yet where I have been such a happy semi-New Yorker.  

So here’s to snow and my TOP FIVE for Snow in the City!

5. There is a good chance school/work/life will be cancelled so you can get some much needed rest or home bound work done.

4. Kids sliding down the steps of the Metropolitain Museum of Art and sleds being pulled up Central Park West.  Kids rule this town when there is a blizzard.

3. The hills on every street turn out to be parked cars

What a lovely little hill -- I mean tuck.

2.  Snow turns NYC into a small town.  People stop and say hello, ask where you're from -- If you look happy, you've obviously never seen snow before --  inquire why you’re out and offer tips for avoiding the soggiest street gutters when you cross.

If there is any doubt that I am
happy about the snow, this should dispel it.

And the number 1 reason for SNOW in the City is...

I just love a good snow storm.

It feels right.  And to enjoy it with people who feel I care about? 
The best.  

Y man, Two and KTL at the Cloisters in Inwood

So maybe I’ll hold off on praying for snow -- at least for New York -- but I won’t be the least bit sad about it when it comes my way!!!

Go Green!

Now, I'm no football fan, but I do love a good Cinderella story, so, huzzah for happy endings! And even though I wasn't watching the big game last night, we did have lots of good company for a yummy meal that just happened to be an appropos shade of victorious green.

Check out these adorable vintage Packers -- I think I'm in love!
Green Green Butter

2 sticks butter, softened

1 large bunch parsley

a handful of spinach

1/2 cup green Greek olives (pitted)

zest of one whole lemon

juice of one half lemon

Kosher salt

fresh ground black pepper

Put it all in a VitaMix or food processor and whirl until smooth and very green. It is so bright and fresh and tangy in the most delicious way. We stirred about 1/3 of this into 2 lbs of steaming orzo mixed with 2 lbs of baby spinach and 14 oz good feta (I'm a big fan of Dodoni), then put the rest on the table to dollop on roasted tilapia and balsamic glazed carrots. The leftovers, (pictured below. Apparently, Fast Sunday appetites are not conducive to laborious pre-meal foodie glamour shots -- Sorry!), would be delicious on everything from zucchini to shrimp to turkey sandwiches to cardboard.

It's Harder Than It Looks. . .

A bowl of tiny pears. So peaceful, so enticing, so. . . zen.

But a lot of stress goes into such an effortless spread. Take the above photo, for example -- pears with the most picturesque flaws were carefully selected and arranged in a dish with a complimentary, but not too matchy-matchy, color-scheme; a set with excellent lighting and an interestingly vague, preferably infinite background was located; Then, and only then, was the camera introduced. Orientations, angles, and zooms were ruthlessly milled through, until 250 pictures of a tiny pear-filled bowl clogged the photog's SD card and eyes. The most pristine of seven practically identical pictures was selected, and then mangled in order to situate it in the square orientation required by sites like Tastespotting and FoodGawker -- who then declined to post it because tiny pears in a bowl are "not a compelling img subject". 

What I'm trying to say is that food photographers go through a lot for their art. So today I dedicate this post to all of those diet documentarians who labor to bring us scrumptious beauty. Those adorers of aliment who vicariously feed our stomachs as well as our souls.

I salute you.

If you have a food photographer who has fed you sans calories, please share their info. Heaven knows we want to admire their work, too.

10 Truths for Mature Humans

1. I wish Google maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.

2. There is a great need for a sarcasm font.

3. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

4. Bad decisions make good stories.

5. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my 10 page technical report that I swear I have not made any changes to.

6. Part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

7. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand what was said?

8. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch three consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

9. As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers. But no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate bicyclists.

10. There's no worse feeling than that millisecond you're sure you are going to die after leaning your chair a little too far back.

(courtesy of funlol.com)

These are a few of my favorite things...

The gods must be smiling on me because this week I got some unexpected awesomeness! And while it might be a slight overstatement if I said they were my absolute-most-ever-best-in-the-whole-wide-world favorites, they certainly brightened my week.

A Birthday package from Four and Five!
(who cares if it's four months late? It's like it's my birthday all over again,
except this time I'm not reminded of how old I am!)

A Post Card from Paris

While a Parisian postcard is always something to smile about, this one was extra-awesome because it was sent by my wonderful friend and former roommate Loic! Dr. P and I really need to hop the pond and go see him sometime soon...

Study Time with TINY!
While Princess H was occupied with the ballet, Tiny had much more serious things to attend to. Dr. P was VERY grateful for Tiny's input.