Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Her Moments

Today wasn't a total loss. There were acts of random cuteness.

Nutmeg said she wanted to take a shower with me this morning. She lasted until the first drop of water touched her, at which point she howled to get out and then played happily, naked, in the bathroom with her bath toys while I showered.

During the internap period, I tried tossing a beach ball to her to make up for the fact that we never got out today. She caught it -- twice. First time ever. She was so excited. She did a little giggly victory dance after each catch.

Early this evening, we made our weekly batch of muffins, Nutmeg singing "The Muffin Man" the whole time. After I put the pan in, we went to the basement for a little laundry and Little Tykes car driving. Nutmeg moved her Cozy Coupe forward for the first time. The poor kid has been "driving" that thing since she got it on her first birthday 9 months ago, and today she finally gets it.

When we came back into the apartment, you could smell the muffins.
"What does that smell like?" I asked her.

"Smells like good."

Tomorrow, Epu takes her ice skating for the first time. I just found out this weekend that they rent skates even in sizes that are already too small for her. I hope she likes it, because the ice rink is very near our house, and Epu is very, very excited about it. He predicts she will cry the first time out.

Also, despite all my talk about mommy burnout, I should confess that we got a sitter last night and went out to dinner. To Chez Panisse, one of the most renowned restaurants in America. We had an anniversary gift to spend and the $100 I got for my scoop at work, and we spent both. Yes, it was good, although I will say not exactly exciting. Chez Panisse is known for quality in ingredients, and I totally got that. The dish -- there are no choices in the main dining room -- was bouillabaise, seafood soup. There was not one bite of fish or crab that didn't taste perfectly sweet and pure. Nothing was flawed in any way. The appetizer was onion and anchovy tart, the same. Not a hint of harshness to even one strand of onion on that tart. The dessert was ice cream with blood oranges and another kind of orange, and just the sweetest, most perfect part of each orange section was on the plate. Still, although I respected the high quality meal that had been put before me, there was no moment when I felt like pulling a Meg Ryan scene from "When Harry Met Sally." It was a rich experience and I'm glad we went there, but I can't say I'd want to eat there every night of the week, even if I could. That probably shows how little I know about food, but there it is.

1 comment:

Bert said...

I think when you grow up in the midwest on casseroles and brocolli that's boiled until it's gray, you just can't appreciate hoity-toity food. It's not in the genes.