March 2021 – Life Off Headset

Weekly recap + what we ate: Back to school!!!!

A welcome sight – the school bus fleet back on the roads! And also – the trees starting to bloom!

On Monday, the nine year old went back to in person school. It’s such a fraught decision, and no one-size fits all choice; every family needs to see what is best for them. So we looking at CDC guidelines and weighing our sense of risk against the stress that distance learning was causing for everyone – we knew that sending her back was the right choice for our family. She was so happy to see her friends again, though only about a third of her class elected to return to in person learning. The look of joy on her face at the end of every day helps me know that we made the right choice. At least the right choice for now. It might not be the right choice in two weeks, or three week, or what not, but it is the right choice for now.

So this week was about, again, adjusting and finding a new rhythm.

There is the commute to school. I don’t love having to drive up and down the freeway four times a day – actually only twice because I come home on local roads – but it felt like a more controlled environment than the school bus.

There is the morning routine and having to get used to leaving the house again.

There is the way my day is now defined by drop off and pick ups – which I think is helpful for me to focus my energy, but at the same time I still feel a little lost on how best to use the time.

I’ve decided that I want to visit as many of the parks in our county as possible, so after drop off, I will take the four year old and the baby to a playground.

The baby is frighteningly adept at climbing play structures. She loves going down slides. The four year old has gotten used to being asked to catch her at the bottom. He stands there with his arm outstretched as she come wooshing down the slide, colliding with him. He valiantly tries to keep upright while not letting his little sister hit the ground, and usually he succeeds. Watching sibling interaction has been one of the great joys of the pandemic.

My phone finally had to be replaced this week. I’ve had the same iPhone 6 for almost five years and The Husband tells me that it’s time. I’m a little resentful because I feel like things should last longer than five years, but the touch screen stopped working, so I guess he’s right. I tried to get by using voice command for a while, but it was getting a little ridiculous.

The whole process of getting a new phone was somewhat frustrating. I remember it being a lot easier five years ago – but now it seems that you need a lot more additional things just to be able to function. I feel like a curmudgeon about the whole thing.

Anyhow, I have a new phone and everything transferred smoothly, except for my Whatsapp which I didn’t realize had to be backed up separately. Oops. Actually there is something almost disappointing in how seamless my new phone set itself up. The new phone looks almost exactly like my old phone and I find myself missing that sense of “new” that usually comes with upgrading devices. It’s an odd sensation – like the new phone is wearing the same clothes as the old phone.

Some fun weekend adventures:

The husband had to work over the weekend, so I took the kids to the local Botanical Gardens and playground. So many signs of spring! The nine year old spotten some frog eggs in the stream. There was sunshine and fresh air and trees still bare, but starting to bud. The baby went down the slides at the big kids playground. Not the two story high one, but the smaller big one.

And there was this meditation that I found lovely:

On Sunday, we tried to take the kids to watch planes land; there is a playground near the airport where you can almost get your eyebrows shaved by landing planes. Unfortunately the parking lot was full, so we went to a playground around the corner though the view of planes wasn’t as spectacular at that playground. On the way, we got milkshakes and fries. It was probably in truth a touch too cold for milkshakes, but they were still tasty.

Steak ‘n’ Shake! Mid-afternoon indugence.

The baby has started asking to wear a mask when we go out. By “ask” I mean she hands it to us and makes her little insistent seal barking sounds. (She is still not talking, though she will repeat “dada” and “mmmm” (milk), and “baba” (for bao bao, Mandarin for “Pick me up” or “Hug)). I feel a little self conscious about her wearing a mask; is it overkill? – but on the other hand, she will have to start wearing one in six months, so I’m glad that she is okay with it, and it seems safe.

Fun project: Inspired by a conversation with my friend Kristen, who is a preschool teacher – I decided I wanted to try my hand at making butter. Holy cow it actually works! I wasn’t sure it was going to work because it took a lot of shaking and since I used a stainless steel jar I couldn’t see the progress. The kids lost interest after a couple minutes, so I kept going. It was a somewhat act of faith for me to keep shaking. I had made whipped cream from shaking before, so going from liquid cream to the smooth and thick whipped cream was expected. But then I thought – where does it go from here? And I keep shaking and shaking, the jar is soundless as I shake it. And then it becomes this kind of rough, chunky whipped cream. And I think, “That looks gross….” But I close up the jar and keep shaking. And at some point, there is a sloshing sound, and I open up the jar and see:

I’m sure there is some kind of metaphor here for theatre and art – about shaking and shaking and and having faith that the results will be consumable, even if the midway point looks chunky and clunky and messy.

What we ate:

Saturday: Pasta with jarred red sauce.

Sunday: Tofu banh mi Bowls with noodles

Monday:Chickpeas and Kale on Barley from Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything Fast.

Tuesday: Shrimp, Fennel and White Bean Stew from Mark Bittman’s VB6 cookbook.

Wednesday: Green beans and tofu stir fry w/ brown rice.

Thursday: Pav Bhaji from Meera Sodha’s Made in India. The Husband called this Indian Manwich – basically it’s a vegetable mash of eggplant, cauliflower, and potatoes cooked in cumin, coriander, garam masala, tumeric and amchur (we used chana masala powder instead). The whole things is slathered on buns and eaten topped with red onion and cilantro with a squeeze of lemon. Everyone asked that this be put into our meal rotation!

Friday: pizza and That Darn Cat! I’ve been borrowing from the library some of the Disney movies that I watched growing up. The four year old thought this movie was hilarious.

Books read in February 2020

A good month for reading – lots of audio books!

Dear Mrs. Bird by AJ Pearce, read by Anna Popplewell – Light hearted novel set in London during WWII, about a young lady who aspires to be a journalist, but ends up writing for a women’s magazine and secretly answering letters from readers. It was a light story, in that stiff upperlip British way where tragedy comes and goes but everyone manages to keep going with their lives.

Welcome to the Goddamn Ice Cube by Blair Braverman – 6h 39mins. Braverman is a dogsledder and journalist and in this memoir, she recounts her personal journey as a young adult as she moves from cold environment to cold environments. There was something really immediate about reading this book as we went through a cold, snowy snap – I kept thinking, “Well at least it’s not so cold here that the dog food freezes before you can get it from the boiling pot to the dog bowl.” I envy her bold sense of adventure and her fearless impulses, but at the same time, there were moments when I seriously questioned her judgement and some of her recollections it made me nervous for young women trying to assert themselves in a world that still wants to make them victims in so many ways.

Fleishman is in Trouble by Taffy Brodesser-Anker – (hard copy). I enjoyed this book more than an other I’ve read in a long time. One day Toby Fleishman’s ex-wife just drops their two kids off with him and then goes AWOL. The novel follows Toby as he tries to juggle family, work, and love life while trying to figure out what happened to his ex-wife. I first hear about it on the Everything is Fine podcast, on an episode when they talked about how wonderful it was to read a book where middle aged women were seen as having an advantage over younger women. Books about midlife crises and suburban moms sometimes really grate on me; I often find them full of privilege and self indulgence. But for some reason this one really resonated with me. I felt so understood from the moment in the first chapter that the main character says:
“I was now what was a called a stay-at-home mother, a temporary occupation with no prospect of promotion that worked so hard to differentiate itself from job-working that it confined me to semantic house arrest, though certainly I was allowed to carpool and go to the store.”
I think this book perfectly captures the ridiculous yet heartfelt angst of trying to get through life as an adult, the confusion of waking up one day in a life that you don’t quite understand, even though you feel like you did all the right things. This book was one of those “neglect your children for an afternoon so you can finish it” experiences for me.

A Rule Against Murder by Louise Penny – 7h 49m Book four of the Inspector Gamache series. I wasn’t entirely convinced about how the mystery itself played out, but I really enjoyed the way Penny gradually reveals characters and their backstories. I’ve been working my way through this mystery series. There is a certain laconic pacing that makes for slow reading, but that is part of the reason I find these books such a comfort read.

The Good Neighbor:The Life and Work of Fred Rogers by Maxwell King read by Levar Burton – I really enjoyed listening to this audiobook. Growing up, we didn’t have a television until I was seven years old, but I do remember watching some of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. I remember actually being quite unnerved by the puppets. Hearing about how Fred Rogers came to create his famous television program and the philosophies behind his work, made me think about the choices I myself make with my children, particularly this pandemic year where we are re-thinking what we want as an educational experience for our children. Rogers’ insistence that a child’s emotional well being should be prioritized above learning numbers and letters, helped me tamp down any anxiety I might have over a “missing year” with the schools being closed.

Utopia for Realists by Rutger Bregman, read by Peter Noble – I tend to be left leaning, no surprise there, so a lot of the ideas presented in this book by the Dutch historian and writer are kind of my catnip. Universal basic income, open borders, fifteen hour work week, etc. I mean this book is pretty much preaching to the choir here, though I do appreciate knowing that Bregman presents research to show that such things are actually beneficial and not just pipe dreams. He also attributes the left’s inability to bring about change to their lack of radicalism, pointing out that Trump found a lot of support in the far right wing because his rhetoric was so outlandish. Bregman urges the left to be just as outlandish and crazy as the right – the anemic, polite posturing will not shift any needles. Food for thought.

Weekly recap + what we ate – getting out of town

Sunrise on the C&O Canal tow path and the lockhouse where we stayed.

The nine year old had a surprise non-instructional day at the beginning of the week, followed by two days of asynchronous learning. In layman’s terms that meant she didn’t have to go to school for three days. So we left town.

I booked us to stay a night at a lockhouse. These are historic houses along the C&O canal that were built to house the lock keepers and their families. Seven of them have been restored and furnished with period appropriate furniture by the C&O Canal Trust, and can be booked for a stay. I had read about these a while ago and something about the historic and rustic nature of them really appealed to the romantic in me. So when I was looking for a place to take the kids for an overnight, a lockhouse struck me as the perfect pandemic get away since they are remote and only one party stays in at a time. So after dithering for a couple days, I booked one about an hour away and packed the kids up for an adventure.

We first went hiking at Catoctin National Park. I chose a hike that was less than a mile so that the baby would be able to walk the whole way. The hike was colder than I had anticipated – I had forgotten how quickly a change in altitude and make temperatures plummet. There was still a good amount of snow cover on the ground. In the end, though, we didn’t get too far. We came across a pile of boulders and the two older kids just wanted to spend their time climbing and scrambling. Seeing them figure out how to scale to heights was actually pretty awesome.

We got to the lockhouse mid afternoon. It was spare and rustic, and oh so quiet. The house had electricity, but no indoor plumbing. I knew about this going in, but I don’t think I fully realized the simple luxury of indoor plumbing until I had to spend a day without it. I had anticipated having to use a portable toilet, but then there were things like washing dishes and hands, draining pasta, and brushing your teeth, that are definitely easier when the water has a place to drain away.

We spent our daylight hours strolling along the Potomac and walking along and in the abandoned locks. The locks have been abandoned for almost 100 years an in that time forests and meadows have grown in them. Looking at them, I was really struck by how little time it takes for a forest to grow if people let nature do its thing.

In the evening we made a fire – I hadn’t brought marshmallows because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to make a fire. The kids really wanted one, though, so I did make one after dinner. And then another one the next morning. I did have some sliced apples, so I wrapped them in foil, brushed them with honey and bacon grease (the only kind of fat/oil I had on hand) and cooked them over the campfire. They were really tasty. Though, I suspect most things are tasty when eaten outdoors and by a roaring fire.

We didn’t sleep much that night. The kids weren’t used to being somewhere so dark and quiet and it was a little unsettling for them. We ended up sleeping with the lights on. I felt for sure that the trip was a failure, but in the morning, they were all smiles and excited to explore and run around outside.

It was by no means a fancy get away. But it was quiet and screen free (though, I did read my book on my phone after the kids went to bed). We hadn’t gone away since before the pandemic had hit, and I was getting a little stir crazy, to be honest. It was just nice to be surrounded by a different four walls for a little while and to imagine what life was like in this little community of Four Locks.

On the way home we stopped at Antietam Battlefield. I was never much of a Civil War buff, but being at Antietam, and seeing how vast an expanse it was, and thinking of the number of lives that were lost in this one battle… it made me realize how crazy difficult and horrible the Civil War must have been. I mean any war, really. But thinking about how lacking in technology they were and how difficult military strategy must have been given that lack…

Burnside Bridge and the sycamore tree that saw the Civil War.

And it’s not a road trip without a stop for ice cream. Two cones and a milkshake for less than seven dollars. We were definitely not in the city.

This week’s drawing assignment: We got to work in colour finally! We used pencil crayon (which, I think are called colored pencils in America; pencil crayons is what I called them growing up in Canada). Working in colour is definitely harder than one would think. Like learning to draw, I’m learning that working in colour is about breaking down what we see into parts rather than thinking of them as a whole. So, for example from below, shadows are not just darker versions of the table, but their own colour. Something being darker or lighter is not a matter of black and white, but of blue, purple, yellow, red… it is about the colour, not the light. Just as with drawing I had to learn to draw the lines of the object, not the object itself, I think the same applies to using colour – you draw what is there, not what you think is there.

The rest of the week seemed pretty heavy on life admin stuff as we get ready for the nine year old to go back to school. It fills me with excitement, worry, doubt and hope. As we round the corner of one year of staying at home, I’ve felt like the past twelve months have felt impossibly long but also it’s gone in a blink of an eye. I feel like I’m in much the same place I was, but the baby has gone from being immobile to scaling table tops and the middle child is (mostly) potty trained. Things move forward, even when I can’t.

More signs of the onward trudge of time – this tree that I took a picture of last month is no longer quite so bare:

What We Ate:

Saturday: Can’t remember. Maybe takeout?

Sunday: Roast Cod and Vegetables.

Monday: Tortellini and Ravioli. Carrot Sticks and snacks. Dinner at the lockhouse.

Tuesday: Breakfast Sandwiches. The Husband made dinner.

Wednesday: Penne with Broccolini and Goat cheese from Milk Street Tuesday Nights.

Thursday: Cauliflower Curry Soup from ATK Vegan for Everyone.

Friday: Pizza (homemade. I put anchovies on it, but I had forgotten which side and got it mixed up…. that was not popular) and Loony Tunes.

Haikus from February

Tree branches frozen,
Encased in a crystal sleeve
Like the Snow Queen’s wand.

The afternoon moon
still among cumulous drifts,
mottled white cloud-like.

She sings wordless songs
of adventure and nature
things only she knows

The last stubborn snow
Persists in fifty degrees
Unmeltingly solid.

Persistent snow drift
Every day a little less
melting into March

Sycamore limbs stretch
Spreading to full potential
given space and time

Quiet and busy
toilet paper on the floor
A roll strewn with joy.

Urban park mural
So bright on a winter’s day
punchy, popping hues

Weary yet hopeful
Welcome to the human race
Solidarity

Weekly recap + what we ate – Spring peeks in

In a final attempt to get a hike in for February, we took the kids to a local woodland sanctuary. Though when we got there, half of it was closed for restoration. Nonetheless, we did enjoy some lovely signs of spring and had a nice amble/romp through the part that was open. We also saw some interesting rough shelters. More and more we are letting the baby walk. She is usually good for about 45 minutes of walking, admittedly at her own pace, so we don’t necessarily get too far.

Last weekend I introduced the kids to the ten hour BBC adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. I had forgotten how much of the movie is Colin Firth staring broodingly, and how very little he actually speaks. And how swoonworthy I find that. Though I’m sure in real life such behaviour would actually frustrate me greatly. But I guess that what’s literature (and excellent adaptation of literature) is for.

sleeping baby, cuddling nine year old, and Colin Firth. Not a bad way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Last week, I had an opportunity to be a guest for an opera company’s Zoom workshop for children. I was asked to talk about stage management. Dusting off my stage manager’s brain after almost a year felt like revisiting an old friend. I pulled out my work tote bags and my SM kit to see what was there for potential show and tell. I seem to have misplaced my stopwatch and my drawing template. I also had to create some marked up score pages. I had, in a fit of cleaning last fall, thrown out a whole box of old scores that I had been keeping for who knows what reason. Those scores were almost twenty years old and I decided they were no longer serving me. Welp…. I’m still on the fence as to whether or not I regret tossing them – the inner wanna be purger felt quite liberated to have the space back. But then something like this comes along and the inner “keep it just in case”-er feels vindicated.

So I mourned a little and then got to work making a fake score page. There is something so soothing about placing calls in a score – the orderly calm of it, the rhythm of writing, and sticking…. I’m sure I used to take for granted the great satisfaction I get from putting post-its in the right place.

Initially I was a little nervous about the class because I feel like a lot of what we do as stage managers is more internal than demonstrative. It’s not the glamorous storytelling work of singers or dancers or designers. Do we tell stories? We certainly help create and communicate stories. In the end, we taught the kids about stage directions and taking blocking. And also how to say “Thank you, five!” I feel like though these are not creative skills, they are probably good life skills.

Art homework this week was bout the technique of frottage – basically making rubbings, very like what one did in elementary school with leaves and what not. I had hoped to get some outdoor samples for my rubbings – like leaves, or bark, or rocks or sidewalk – but the weather was quite wet all week. Instead I had to look for indoor objects of texture- which is not as obvious as one would think. It seems our current domestic life is one of smoothness and lack of texture. I became quite obsessed with finding items with words that made good rubbing projects. I went around the house touching all the words or lettering I found, to see if it would make a good frottage project. All the letter hunting inspired me to this drawing which I call “Alphabet Soup.” I think, if I were to do it again, I would add a spoon or some more objects of context.

I am trying to mentally prepare to send the nine year old back to school. There is a lot of information out there, but also so much is unknown.

Fun Sunshiny things:

I bought the nine year old one of those shirts with mermaid sequins – the kind where you can flip them back and forth and they change colours. The other day she was wearing her shirt and:

…. she became a human, late afternoon sun disco ball! This shirt and the nine year old’s discovery of the science of reflection – has brought many impromptu moments of sparkle.

Speaking of late afternoon sun and the nine year old, here is another moment of “resistance”. I feel like either it’s a statement about homework, or idly surfing while doing homework.

I put the baby on the tricycle this week for the first time. She seemed to love it. Both the tricycle and the helmet were from when the nine year old was a toddler, and now all three children have gotten use of them.

The four year old peeled a sweet potato all by himself for the first time. He was so proud of himself. I will say he’s been the most reluctant chore-doer of the kids. Even the baby loves to do chores. I read this article from NPR last week about children and chores, and the article talks about giving children three subtasks per hour – the idea being that these really small yet specific jobs helps to foster a sense of inclusion and responsibility. I think this might be the way to go with the four year old.

Pre-COVID I would sometimes go to the library and sit and read magazines for an hour or two. I love magazines. I love leafing through the glossy pages. I love the bite sized articles. I love the longer, more in depth articles. I love the shiny perfect pictures. I love information consumption. I love, let’s be honest, not having to pay for my own subscriptions and not having the paper clutter in the house. Needless to say leisurely magazine reading hasn’t happened for a while. So when I peeked into the Little Free Library by the park this week and saw a copy of Real Simple, I snatched it up. Never mind that it was four months old and talked about Thanksgiving. My brain kind of reacted as if the magazine was a Twix and I had been on a sugar fast. Immediately I pictured myself sitting in a comfy chair with a hot beverage, idly turning pages while planning meals and life organization tactics. This relaxing magazine reading with my cup of tea experience I’d envisioned has – surprise! – yet to happen. But there is a lot of hope invested in that magazine. If I can manage to keep the kids from hiding it.

One last message that appeared in my life this week, peeking at me from the edge of some fabric I was sewing into masks:

What We Ate:

Saturday- Sausage and grapes – the Husband cooked. This is one of my favorite dishes that I never remember to make.

Sunday- Steamed rice and veggies with Tofu from Milk Street Tuesday Nights

Monday- mushroom noodles from Milk Street Fast and Slow

Tuesday- Coconut cod curry and rice from Made in India

Wednesday- fennel and cannelloni bean soup from Milk Street Tuesday Nights.

Thursday- quinoa nori wraps from Mark Bittman’s Dinner for Everyone

Friday: pizza (with anchovies!) and Annie

Weekly recap + what we ate – winter sunshine

Even with snow on the ground, we explored a new park last weekend. I haven’t quite been able to have a proper woody hike this month, but I did try really hard to make it outside every day for at least twenty minutes. This park came up on the county recs Winter Activity Bingo sheet. The park had been newly renovated with new play structures and some eye popping murals. The murals were such a joyful burst of colour on a drab winter day.

The kids had a particularly fun time on this disc swing. There is something really happy about seeing two kids on the same swing, the older one holding the younger one up. The swing went pretty high and I found myself a little anxious, but then I reminded myself of the laws of physics.

By midweek the temperatures were into the 40s and the snow was almost all melted. I’m trying to develop a personal metric for when I need to wear my winter coat. 40s is definitely too warm for my winter coat. High 30s is puffer vest layered under winter coat. Low 30s is all that + fleece, boots, and silk long underwear. Hats and gloves throughout, though.

But, signs of spring continue to be seen:

Art class assignment this week was to adopt an artist. This was mine:

I chose Magritte. Ultimately this drawing felt a little derivative to me. I feel like I copied his subject matter more than his style. Though the instructor said with surrealists subject and style are intertwined more so than a lot of other genres.

I had two bunches of kale growing limp in the fridge, so I made kale chips. The last time I had kale chips was over a year ago. Some random friends from college all ended up living in this area and we decided – after ten years – that we should actually get together. Who knew it was the last dinner party we’d have in quite some time.

I’ve had mixed success with kale chips, but this batch turned out pretty good. I seasoned them with coconut oil and curry powder and baked at 275 for 30 mins, flipping half way through. I think I had always baked them at too high a heat and they always burnt. The America’s Test Kitchn recipe said bake at 200 for an hour, but I felt like the results weren’t spectacularly better enough to merit the extra half hour in the oven.

Interesting read this week about why we shouldn’t celebrate the death of Rush Limbaugh. This sentence particularly resonated with me:
“I’ve stopped referring to people as “racists,” “misogynists,” or “homophobes,” detailing their words and actions rather than reducing them to labels. After all, when you call me a name — “snowflake,” “social justice warrior” — I stop listening. I don’t think I’m an outlier.”

This also resonated with me, but for different reasons: I’m a short afternoon walk and you are putting too much pressure on me.

The four year old saw this heart in the wild and made me take a picture:

Weird food thing of the week: Dumpling water soup. We ate the last of our frozen dumplings from our favorite dumpling house this week. After we had the dumplings, I ladled some of the water from boiling the dumplings into a mug and sipped the hot liquid. It’s a habit I learned from my parents. On the one hand it’s a very frugal thing to do, but on the other hand it feel really indulgent.

What We Ate:

Saturday: Roasted Shrimp and Broccoli

Sunday: Pad Thai (recipe from ATK Vegan for Everyone) with sauteed green beans on the side.

Monday: Brussel Sprouts Risotto with dried figs. From Bittman’s VB6 Cookbook.

Tuesday: Black Bean, Corn, Quinoa Salad with lime dressing from ATK Vegan for Everyone.

Wednesday: Salmon burgers and roasted carrots.

Thursday: Cilantro Scallion Chickpeas from Milk Street Fast and Slow. The baby loved this. And the chick peas were the perfect texture. I had been struggling with making chick peas in the InstantPot, and this time they came out uniformly tender. I think adding baking soda as recommended in the cookbook really made a difference in texture.

Friday: pizza (take out) and From the Earth to the Moon – documentary about space travel. I hope that we never look on space travel with anything less than awe and amazement.

Slicing Oranges

There is a lot of citrus in the house these days. There are blood oranges, minneolas, clementines, naval oranges – some even sent from my parents in California, tangarines… It’s the season, and in the depths of winter, they make for a sweet-sour juicy treat.

After dinner we usually have fruit. The other day, the nine year old took the oranges into the kitchen, sliced them, and brought them back, all laid out on a plate.

I took one look and clutched my pearls.

She had cut them into half moon wheels. This was not what I was used to.

I can be a little…. inflexible in the kitchen. The Husband tells me I have a lot of food rules.

“You have to cut it into smiles,” I insisted.

The Husband said, “You can’t tell her how to cut an orange.”

“Yes I can. Oranges are cut into wedges. Or else you can’t put them in your mouth and smile orange smiles.”

“Yes, I can!” the nine year old said, and proceeded to put a half wheel between her teeth and pull her lips over the edges. “Theee?” she said. “Orange thmiles!”

I shook my head, “No, no, no! This is not how you cut oranges to eat after dinner.”

The Husband took a patient breath. “How do you cut them? Can you show us?”

So I took another orange and proceeded to cut it in half from the pedical through the core. Then each half, I cut into three wedges for a total of six smiles. Satisfied with having my teachable moment of the day, we finished our fruit and moved on.

But later that week, as I was slicing oranges for lunch, I thought about it. I asked myself, “Why can’t oranges for after dinner be cut into half moons? I mean it certainly is prettier and makes for nice garnish. It surely doesn’t taste differently?”

So I decided to try it. I took an orange and cut it around its equator into slices, the segments radiating from the core like the sun rays. Then I cut those in half. So far so good. As I picked up the half wheel, I realized that cutting ihe orange in half wheels was a whole different eating experience; rather than struggling with stuffing a huge segment of orange in my mouth, I could peel back the rind and pull the orange segments apart, one small triangle at a time. This also proved a much easier way to share the orange slices with the Baby. It wasn’t what I was used to, but it worked rather well for getting food into bite-sized segments. Well then.

Later that day, I went up to my daughter and said, “Honey? I’m sorry. You can slice your orange however you want.”