Humpty Beware

Every year (for the last three), I have used Easter to continue the Smith Family tradition of painting eggs (the real kind, blown-out and then sealed with wax...a form of self-torture that I both love and hate...just try blowing an egg -- you'll see).

This year's crop turned out particularly well (shockingly well...and without wine). My theme is always storybooks -- whatever has been the year's dominant characters. For Harry, it was easy: Curious George. Charlotte was a little harder, given we're still striving to find her niche. So for her, I painted Tilly, from "Happy Hector," who looks surprising like my precious girl.

The one downside to these gems is that they're, yes, extraordinarily fragile and not exactly something you can share with the kids (yet), already Tilly has a hairline (pun too) fracture, courtesy an enthusiastic Harry (I may be re-Tillying soon, sigh). But I still have many of the eggs I painted with my parents 30-some years ago (lots of shards too).

EDITOR'S NOTE: Worried that Tilly will not make it to Easter '11, we have added the cast of "Clip Clop" to our egg stash. Sorry, but Mr. Horse was entirely too big for the egg, and my patience.

Here Chicky, Chicky, Chicky....

'Though This Be Madness, Yet There is Method in 't' (Hamlet- Act II, Scene II)

Since the day Harry was born, Paul has yearned to build something, presumably for our kids, in the corner of our yard where nothing grows (nothing, ever). It is a place where plants fresh from the nursery go to die under the shady canopy of our Crape Myrtle tree. So when Harry came of age, so to speak, it was decided that dad would erect a playhouse. We scoured the Internet for construction plans and plunked down $10 for drawings that would have us building a replica cape-cod (with a virtually identical price-tag, because as this sweater-knitter knows, DIY is not cheap.)

Then we got to looking at pre-fab playhouses. Some mighty gross stuff out there. But there on a random Web page I found a very cute cedar house, complete with chimney, gabled windows and dimensions that would not dwarf our postage-stamp-sized backyard. The price was a fraction of what it would cost to buy siding and shingles and hardware. But poor dad, so many hammers, so little to do. While the manufacturers of our little house warn that it takes 8 hours to stick-assemble this baby, that's not really enough for Paul. So he decided he would build us a deck (a real deck, supported with concrete pillars and joists) to support the yet-to-arrive 104 1/2 Commonwealth Ave., Harry's 3rd birthday gift from Paba and Zaza.

So, that's what we did last weekend. We dug holes with a rented auger, we poured concrete, we hauled boards and we screwed in the last plank just before Sunday's downpour. And we are now the owners of what looks very much like a stage to host Summer Stock. I'm still a bit shell-shocked by the size of the thing, already plotting ways to hide the platform...big bushes and other plantings. If you have any great ideas, do tell. Until then, I'll be practicing the role of Ophelia.

Note to the rents -- the playhouse arrives by truck Monday!

The Greatest Show on Earth, Really

Wow! The circus has changed a lot since my last visit....when I was.....12. Yes, been a while and Ringling Brothers never fails to satisfy. Harry was gripped (that's in part to a vat of cotton candy, which came with a wizard hat, and a trough of popcorn, courtesy God-mom Cynthia who joined us for the afternoon) for two solid hours. Yes, we ALL had to wear the hat.

Bottom line -- can't wait to go back. Harry was spellbound watching the animals and most of the acts (not so much the strange clown Mr. Gravity). Charlotte made it an hour before falling asleep in the VERY loud Verizon Center. But it was a really good time. We took away three lessons: You have to be positively unhinged to get into a cage with tigers (OK, Sigfried and Roy taught us this), there is something really wrong about dressing an elephant up in sequins and making it prance around, and it doesn't matter how old you are, the circus is entertainment. And if you're a toddler, there is positively no finer entertainment than watching a woman being shot out of a cannon. None.

If you visit, be sure to attend Clown College an hour before the show begins. Charlotte got up close and personal with a very sweet lady clown. Through the entire show I kept thinking about all these resumes: Zebra Rangler, Elephant Master, Trapeze Artist. Hi, I'm Kate, I get blown out of a cannon! Now that sort of conversation would really juice-up a Washington cocktail party.

Introducing Gnocchi!

There just wasn't enough chaos inside our home. Entirely too much quiet and neatness and order. So we decided to spice things up a bit, particularly where the dog is concerned. So on Wednesday, 2-year-old Gnocchi entered our lives via Homeward Trails Rescue in Arlington, Va.

He is, I'm sorry, not the prettiest cat around, thanks to a large blotch on his puss. But after a month of searching for the right feline, he fits the bill, or seems to: good with kids, lap cat, likes dogs. That does not mean, however, that the dog likes him. Quite to the contrary. At first Typo just ignored Gnocchi (formerly Chip, Cloudy, Shadow and, uh, Precious...all former foster owners). But now Typo is in the "this is MY house" mode. We figure all hostilities will end once the cat's sharp claw meets Typo's snoot. The sooner the better so that the cat can roam free without wondering what hulking mass of canine lurks behind each corner.

As for the name. It is a tribute both to my Italian heritage (my grandmother's best dish) and, OK, the name of Curious George's kitty. Perhaps we should have gone with something Egyptian given the above pose and Gnocchi's proximity to my parent's urn (the wooden tea box to the left of the cat). A very good spiritual protector it would seem.

Dough Boy

Harry takes his job monitoring the creation of pizza dough very seriously. It's an activity rife with lessons on being careful and listening to mom. The reward for good behavior is a bubbling hot cheese pizza. If only he were as interested in using the potty.

The Other Body Paint

A spate of rainy weather has meant lots of indoor art projects, some of them exceptionally messy, which is always the sign of a successful project. As you can see, this one was a virtual thrill ride.

Veggie Tales

Calling all moms! I want to share a fool-proof recipe for cauliflower that Harry and Charlotte (and even veggie rebuking adults) love. It's basically a faux mashed potatoes dish. And it is SO delish. And about 3,000 times healthier than potatoes. Charlotte can't get enough of it. This is definitely a case where photos speak loudest.

1 head of cauliflower, cut up and steamed until it's super mushy (about 8 min.)
2 Tbsp margarine
1/4 cup milk
salt and pepper

Just put the ingredients into a food processor, pulse until it looks like and acts like creamy mashed potatoes. Then eat (and if you're like Charlotte, finish by licking the bowl).

Calling Glenda the Good Witch

Think flying monkeys and ruby slippers. Harry dug a hole so big at the park that his feet appeared to be in a different zip code than his upper body. It looked much like the death scene in The Wizard of Oz when Dorothy's house lands on the Wicked Witch of the East. We enjoyed a very long, soapy bath after this excavation.

St. Patrick Cometh

The corned beef is in the fridge, ready for an eight-hour slow cook, the treats are ready for preschool (we get the honor of bringing Harry's class cookies on Thursday) and we're pumped for an Irish good time following Alexandria's always entertaining St. Patrick's Day parade, which was made even more grand (gotta love those Shriners!) with the Paba and Zaza in tow.

Putting on the Ritz

It's a lot of work and not enough play for mom and dad who ventured out last week to attend the Alexandria Symphony Orchestra Ball at the Ritz. We were photographed with our friends Shawn and Cassie McLaughlin who we met five years ago when we bought their home, a real double stroke of luck. It was a fun night, despite an ever-sinking bodice on my gown. Must become better acquainted with double-stick tape.

Snow Daze

It was indeed a snowy trip to Maine. And thanks to some heavy-duty snow boots (thank you LL Bean), coats, hats, oodles of mittens (Harry chucked a log into the outdoor fire and with it, his gloves, which came flying off in concert and landed in the flames. Good aim, buddy).

After many walks in the woods, trips to the little shed (not for spankings) behind the Barnes' cabin, which Harry was certain was a caboose, an Alpaca farm, and a very nice overnight stay in Portland, where we checked out all the tugboats on the Wharf-- as harry would say "WE-ARE-HOME."

And looking forward to spring.