No It All

Earlier this summer we took a short detour from the Survivor Marathon we’re on to watch the latest season of Top Chef.  Or Top Escallop as I like to say.  At some point there was a frustrated Italian contestant named Fabio who was griping about another chef named Jamie, of course, “All she does is scallops.  For Christ’s sake, c’mon.  This is Top Chef, not Top Scallops.”  Having rewatched the clip, it appears I added the “es” to scallop, but I’m not changing my attempt at an Italian accent now after all these years.  My apologies Fabs.

Meanwhile, it appears I mentioned our switch to the Larder seafood box for children with champagne wishes and caviar dreams.  A few weeks ago James made a beautiful weeknight dinner of grilled scallops.  Nate rolls up to the dinner table last (he’s always last to dinner) and asks, “What’s for dinner… bananas?”

So we’re watching Top Escallop as it’s taking place in a COVID bubble in Portland and I basically buy four direct plane tickets before the credits roll.  The Portland tourism board wishes they could track such pure revenue attribution.

We visited the last weekend in July and based on our iPhone pictures, this appears to be the exact weekend we always visit Portland.  Like migrating birds to gourmet food and lighting factories or something.

We had a blast visiting our usual haunts and a few new ones.  The Japanese garden and the Lan Su Chinese garden kicked-off James’ newest bonsai-garden visiting-nursery hobby. I fell in love with Wayne Jiang’s condiment paintings.  Jake was disappointed I hadn’t made a reservation for the Umami Café at the Japanese garden (note for next time).  But he did order the best jasmine tea at Lan Su.  I’m still devastated Schoolhouse was COVID-closed.  But the boys and I were in heaven at a Blue Star out in the burbs.  The second stop at Nola put us over the edge of the donut cliff.  At some point we worked it off… we’re forever zoo connoisseurs– the entrance to that zoo is magical.  And we adored the food at Eem based on James’ newfound connection with Top Escallop Star Chef Chris Cosentino, who moseyed on into Office Hours at some point this year.

Two Friday’s ago James brought the scallops back into rotation with a bright, lemony risotto.  His youngest son joins us…

“Still looks like bananas to me.”

Dear Papa,

Today’s your birthday.  I think you’d be turning 67.  Pretty sure you were never 100% sure and I’m not 100% sure so we’re even.  Ha!  We think about you all the time.  Nonna told me she saw River twice today.  Certainly doesn’t seem like a coincidence.

I’ve been meaning to write you to share some memories from your celebration.  I just couldn’t take pictures that day, so I’ve got a real head full of mental pictures I snapped just for you.

When we arrived at the cemetery, I was delighted to see the most perfect concrete container.  It had a “VF” inside a heart traced on top just for you.  And it was surrounded by the most beautiful flowers and succulents.  We brought a baby succulent home and it watches over us from the kitchen windowsill.

I held your eldest son’s hand during the ceremony.  He has the softest hands.  It was his birthday.  And while I’m not sure there is anything quite as traumatizing as attending a memorial with all of your family after just receiving a diagnosis, he was the big brother he always is.  Your daughter broke down.  Your wife was beautiful.  Sofia recited a prayer with such confidence and poise.  Nate was really still, blinking and blinking.  He does that when he’s trying not to cry.  My sons were wearing their matching navy linen button-up shirts and charcoal shorts.  With their cousins, they released a basket full of beautiful white pigeons, disguised as doves.  The birds flew up and away in unison.  While we looked off through the trees, they circled back toward us and then carried our love up into the sky.

Father Rod was funny.  He’d forgotten his phone and all his directions, but he carried on nonetheless.  A true professional.  Your big, loving family was all there.  The cousins grown.  New cousins on the way.

We piled into hot cars and headed to the Elks outdoor pavilion.  It was big and shady and almost held the hundreds of friends you’ve made over a lifetime.  Your brother and your youngest son played their guitars and made us all smile as we sang along to all the best songs.  All of your kids spoke.  James talked about how you never tried to be perfect, but you were perfect at trying.  He’d just had his stomach surgery so he mostly had coconut popsicles.  Erin handled the caterer disappearing with the utmost calm and poise.  A man came and talked about how you’d poured that very patio we were all standing on, while the kids ran around the grass, guzzling the unguarded lemonade.  I know you’re not a man for big gatherings and a lot of chitchat, but it really couldn’t have been more perfect– you would have loved it.

It was a celebration of you and all that you mean to us.  Today Terra had her baby boy, on your birthday.  And his middle name is Vincent.  We had a big Italian dinner downtown with Nonna.  Happy birthday Papa!

The Central Coast is not exactly a hotbed for new, diverse dining experiences.  So when something new shows-up… I.  Am.  On.  It.  One such place is the chicly designed Paso Robles Public Market.  For the record, it’s infinitely more attractive design-wise than the not yet opened SLO Public Market.  But I’m not complaining.  I can overlook wire barnyard statues and windmills and white Italian fountains and giant rusted tractor sculptures squeezed into one small street corner for some new tacos and Thai food.

So this one time we all went to the Paso Market for lunch.  It was possibly just before the pandemic or maybe during the pandemic.  No one knows.  The pandemic has boiled our brains and all sense of time.  Well we’ll never forget this trip because as we’re climbing into James’ car, the boys point into the gutter where we’re parked and are like, “What’s that?”

Of course I looked at what they were pointing at.  And the image was permanently burned into my brain for the rest of my life.  It was a long rectangular piece of completely flat fur.  With a tail.  Seriously it was perfectly rectangular and flat.  And the boys gleefully deemed it “Rat Bacon” and loved to torture me by talking about it and giggling uncontrollably as it incited my gag reflex and immediate plugging of my ears.

I thought nothing could be worse than Rat Bacon.

Until yesterday.  Yesterday James goes to use the gas grill and he exclaims “Ohhh no….” and thankfully I don’t have a visual, but just three words shot right past Rat Bacon into outer space.  And those three words?  Barbecued Baby Mice.  Yeah, we’re both gonna vomit just reading this.  I’m sorry.

The boys have so much fun with this information that I have to not only put my headphones in and listen to a podcast to drown out all sound, but I also have to sharply threaten a full 7-day screen ban if one more word is spoken.  Including smacking your lips while giggling evilly, “Finger-lickin’ good!”  Nate.

Today was the very first day of fifth grade and Middle School.  Ack.  It’s almost inconceivable.  And of course I wanted a first day of school picture, which has been a motherly indulgence since basically second grade.  Jacob tells me he won’t smile because he can’t seem to give a good smile on demand.  I can’t argue with that.  Strong self-awareness.

So I give them a two-minute pass on the screen time threat.  Those two minutes of rodent mom torture produced genuine smiles and gleeful expressions captured digitally for all to enjoy.  Now back to school you go.

We had a terrific Saturday in Portland today.  Started with a breakfast feast at a diner-like joint up the street coincidentally called The Feast.  Nate didn’t have Japanese pancakes, but it was definitely a plate of pancakes the size of Okinawa.

Then we headed to the Japanese garden and it was truly stunning.  The bonsai alone were unforgettable.  A darling docent told us the story of Jizo the road guardian, and we bought four pairs of chopsticks for our at-home Party Girl rolls.  James and I did a quick visit to the Rose Garden and serendipitously smelled a patch of peach roses, out of hundreds.  Then we saw the Just Joey sign—the name of our very first rose bush at Baby Jacob’s house.  I couldn’t believe it.  Followed by a short stop for ice cream at Salt and Straw before we loaded up on Manga at the Japanese bookstore.

Somehow Pokémon is making a comeback in our house.  After a short break, we headed over the river to Game Guardians where Nate picked his Pokémon souvenir and was thrilled to get some kind of rainbow Cheryl.  He can’t wait to sell poor Rainbow Cheryl.  The boys were perfectly trained to find the kid playhouse at Rejuvenation under the stairs.  It only took $80 in Japanese products to buy myself uninterrupted time to look around at lighting, hardware, and furniture.  Then a short walk to Afuri for a truly memorable meal of gyoza, sushi and a bite of asparagus that was outstanding.  We loved our special drinks and tried all of the desserts.

Finishing off the day with Tokyo Olympics.  Such a great day.  Omayawa mu shindu.

On Sunday, May 23rd we trooped down to the Tractor Supply and picked out four baby chicks to replenish our aging flock.  We chose two black and white baby Sandos, a little Rhode Island Red, and an even littler golden one with feathered feet.

We brought the girls home and set-up a new chicken nursery in the hot water closet.  And I say girls because we were extra discerning.  Requesting the ugliest, littlest ones we could see.  We’ve learned the hard way that the prettiest babies are boys in Chickenland.  The two Sandos came from a galvanized water trough that advertised its contents as pure pullets.  Apparently a fancy old-timey french word for girl.

The two Sandos grew quickly and it’s been clear by their bully behavior that it was time for them to grow up and move out.  Independence– here you come.  Poor Taki Nitro and little Mini Featherfeet were constantly running scared.  Then this weekend James comes running and says, “Did you hear that?  Are you hearing it?  One of the black and white ones is cocka-doodle-doing.”  I did not see it, but I’m certainly on high alert for even the smallest sign of one vocalizing misstep.

It’s probably a good thing these two don’t yet have permanent names.  Because Bait and Switch may be returning to the Tractor Supply.  They have a policy that you have to buy at least four chicks to deter college kids from abandoning poultry around town.  And I have a policy that if you advertise pullets and send me home with roosters then you accept returns.

So last night Jacob and I were in charge of the independent chicken relocation project.  The boys and the Corcorans are taking Animal Science at College for Kids this week and apparently there hasn’t been one single mention of the first rule of Animal Science: No hesitation!  None.  You grab that chicken with authority kid.

Jake and I successfully introduce the Sandos into the coop in the evening.  Grandma tells us this is how it’s done.  All I can remember is the last time we did this and we could see, as the sun set, the chicks jumping around in the coop like a slumber party and the older girls outside looking evicted and terrified.

This time around, the babies ventured outside and one of them proceeded to chase Spaz (Pipsqueak?) around, despite her being about one tenth the size.  Suspicious rooster behavior?

Once it was dark we sent Jake and James back out to make sure the little girls went back into the coop, which of course they hadn’t.  Suspiciously dumb rooster behavior?

A few minutes later, Jake comes back to his bed and I ask him how they decided to keep the babies in the coop.  “We blocked the door with a Biden Harris sign.  And a rock.”

I really did not see that coming.

Yesterday I crossed that Coronavirus milestone from a half vaxxer to a full vaxxer, right there near the tortilla aisle in the Nipomo Vons.  And then I spent all day today with a case of the aches and chills.  Nothing a bit of Eureka Lemon Marionberry couldn’t help.

Today the Tigers were up against the Padres for a late afternoon game.  I love that the boys were questioning this team name on our drive home– “Kind of a weird name for a team, isn’t it?”  Well, yeah.  The San Diego Dads?  Good point.

Nate started at first base and had a good out and a strong throw to second.  The weather was brisk and windy with a lot of dust clouds to the face.  These pandemic masks just continue to prove themselves useful.

A few innings later, Nate caught himself a pop fly at short stop.  He made it on base during every at bat.  He’s also risen to the ranks of closing pitcher, finishing off our last two innings today.  He got two outs at first base plus a strike out or two.  The game ended when the final batter hit a fly ball way out to left field and Daxton caught it– you could see his grin from a mile away, even through the dust cloud.

Even with all that, Nate’s biggest thrill today was a huge hit straight over second base and into center field.  He ran like he can run– rounding third and only stopping because his coach told him to.  It was a big confidence booster leading into his last inning as pitcher.  After the game, Coach Gillett awarded him one of the game balls, which has become a Saturday tradition.  Tigers had our second win with a score of 7 to 5.

As we’re walking back to the car reliving the highlights, Nate asks me, “I could’ve made it home, don’t you think?  Could’ve been a homer.”

That’s what fourth grade is all about.  Go big and go home.