January 8, 2017

Meanwhile, over at the co-op…

I love Hunger Mountain Co-op in Montpelier. Love, love, love it. Not just for the locally-fermented kimchi and the gluten-free hemp popsicles, but for how it makes me feel. You see, the co-op is the only place where I can feel totally normal. Everywhere else I go, I’m the big personality, the weird one who sings “The Pina Colada Song” loudly in public, the lady who might possibly be funny and might possibly be crazy and you’re not quite sure…

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January 8, 2017

International baccalaureate

We recently went on a vacation. An honest-to-god, travel-someplace-else vacation. With the kids. In Costa Rica. I’m not going to tell you about the rainforest or the dolphins or the blue morpho. I’m not even going to tell you about the monkeys playing over my head for fifteen minutes while I lay in a hammock. OK, I just told you about that. What I’d like to tell you about is the bathroom. Lilah was first into the water closed. “Mom,”…

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January 7, 2017

Then again, maybe I’ll bake

Yesterday, I made English muffins. I was inspired by The Great British Baking show, but not enough to weigh out the dough and make twelve perfectly identical muffins. Because I have a life. I’m lying. Actually, I don’t have a life. That’s why I bake all the time. Anyway, English muffin dough isn’t particularly hard, especially since I now own a stand mixer. What is hard, apparently, is getting them cooked all the way through. See, they look fantastic on…

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January 5, 2017


Day 3 As I poured the warm mixture into nine individual serving dishes, I was delighted—delighted—that my vanilla pudding had no lumps in it. That meant I had avoided cooking the eggs. Unfortunately, it turns out I avoided cooking the eggs by avoiding cooking the pudding, and it never set. Today, I poured out nine individual serving dishes of murky yellow liquid. Day 4 I am volunteering to teach at our Hebrew school. This is somewhat problematic, as I don’t…

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January 4, 2017

Scrambled eggs

Day two! Leftover egg yolks. Not enough for a yellow cake, but just the right number for vanilla pudding. Last time I made it, there were a few lumps. Not lumps like the time Jeff tried to make frozen custard and instead made maple scrambled egg ice cream, which would have been better with bits of bacon in it served on top of biscuits. But still a bit on the lumpy side. Time to get it right. Egg yolks, sugar,…

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January 3, 2017

My Year of Baking Dangerously

Day One: My New Year’s resolution is to become the 2017 Time Person of the Year. Either that, or to bake every day for a year. I’m still on the fence about which one to go with. After the election, while I was stuck at the precise intersection of horrified, disillusioned, and numb, a friend sent us a gift subscription to The Great British Baking Show. Frankly, she should have known better, but she’s a newer friend, so she’s never…

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December 20, 2016

Sat on a park bench like bookends

This week, a new friend commented that he didn’t think I’d be a big Springsteen fan. Forgive him, my friends. He did not know me through the years of sitting on Benjamin’s floor for hours, stiff in the dark, listening to the strains of “Thunder Road” as it repeated on the stereo. Those of you who are new to my life don’t understand that every night, when I tuck my boy into bed, I hear those opening notes. That sometimes, when…

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December 2, 2016

Male judge

OK, first I’m just going to acknowledge that I haven’t blogged since February. I’ve been sort of busy with this and that—kids, building a house, getting another dog, having a play produced, whatever. I needed a really important topic to bring me out of retirement. Something with significant impact upon the world stage. Something that excuses mixing metaphors. And finally it has happened. I have something to say about a topic so huge, so monumental, that it calls for a…

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February 16, 2016

Unkindest cut

Dear Children, When you were newborns, I nursed you, changed you, and diligently washed your sensitive little backsides with mild soap and water every day. You got tummy time every day. I stuck to a schedule and took you out for walks and burped you between sides. And, most importantly, from the very first week, I read to you. Admittedly, in those first months, you frequently slept through the books, but I kept at it. Eventually, you caught on and…

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August 4, 2015


You know who doesn’t complain when he’s out hiking with me? Who doesn’t groan that he’s tired or his stomach hurts? Who doesn’t drag his feet? Who doesn’t ask me how much further it is or insist on a break or pointedly swat at the deer flies? The dog, that’s who. Marley is always delighted to go for a hike. He bounds up the trail, so pleased that—yet again—we’re spending the morning doing the same thing we did yesterday and the…

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