Day 255

Before we got into the car this morning, the boys ate pancakes shaped like Mickey Mouse, said good-bye to Papa Jon, Grandma Val, cousin Anna, Dad and Demps. When Ri rolled up in the Swagger Wagon, we hopped in. It was 8:30 a.m.

The day was gorgeous and the early part of ride was wrapped in Adirondacks... falcons soared, the sky was blue.

About an hour or so in "Kai throwed up." It was Cheerios induced and luckily we had a suitcase full of clean clothes and a fresh blanket. The incident occurred right at a spot where - serendipitously - there was a pull-off (with picnic tables, even!) along the highway. Luck was on our side.

I drove till lunch, easily - a notable feat ... highway driving makes my heart flutter, my jaw tense. After PB&J sandwiches, Ri's deconstructed Edible Arrangments birthday treat and chocolate milk, we piled back in. Ri took the wheel. The boys fell asleep and I tuned the XM to Lil' Wayne. 

We dropped off Ri somewhere near Northeast, a land full of "wine trees." (Seriously, that's what I called the grape vines today. Not for fun. Because that's how my brain was registering them. Sometimes I worry about my brain.) Memories came flooding back - a visit to these shores of Lake Erie with my admissions-office friends, the summer I was 19 ... the one I first felt like an adult.

I drove down 79, the familiar highway stretch - traveled often during my Allegheny days. Then onto 80 West for that short connection... so short I missed my usual exit... and started to worry. At the peak of my panic, Kai started freaking for me to take off his shoe. That was impossible with all of the big trucks and the long Swagger-Wagon stretch between the driver's seat and the bucket seat behind. I kept my eyes on the road and my hands on the wheel. Kai kept up a steady wail, while Jules told him to shush. A doe appeared at the edge of the trees and my heart leap into my throat. She paused, we passed. Big exhale. 

And then... a promising exit that wound round to another familiar stretch. Ultimately the roads spit us out right by the driver's testing facility where, 20 years ago, they gave me my first driver's license... which I'm not sure I actually earned, just driving around that small circle and pulling up beside the curb.

We arrived "home" at just after 7. And all of those hours in the car... they were worth it. 

For reasons like this: 

And this: 

Plus more fun to come... 

Day 249

Packing ins't my forte. In fact, I suck at packing. Here's a typical situation--for a weekend trip: I'll spend hours the night before, trying to locate where favorite pieces of clothing are. Then I'll start washing them. And drying. And folding. Then I'll agonize over what I'm bringing and not bringing. When I finally get everything packed - except my contacts and makeup and toothbrush stuff, which I'll pack in the morning - it's 1:30 a.m. At this point, my contacts and makeup and toothbrush and stuff are pretty much as they are all of the rest of the days, all around the bathroom. Jon's toiletries, on the other hand, are lined up neatly on the side of the sink, so that he can just work his way down the line - rinse, brush, zip - go.

Curiously, becoming a better perfect packer is something I'm constantly striving toward. So I seek out those "what to pack" magazine stories like this recent one in More magazine. Features like these offer great advice: tips like pack stuff that's all in the same color palette.. bring only three pairs of shoes (do running shoes count?)... plan to wear your tank top three times (clearly the writer of such advice doesn't sweat like I do). I plan to follow it--and then I say "F&*k it! I'm driving this time... I've got room for shoes."

Now I pack for 3 Jules and Kai. You'd think I'd delegate this task to Jon but no.
I am not only a bad packer. I am also a control freak. 

No more... I want to be a minimalist packer. But I want to know JUST what to bring. I want a simple list - one that outlines everything I need to bring. Exactly what I need to bring. Like the kind of list you get before you go to camp. A list that's as simply instructive as Joan Didion's packing list--which I discovered on a Smithsonian.com blog (when Joan Didion posted it on Facebook). It's awesome.

I'm heading to PA for a week (next week)... I'll be hanging out with family, playing with kids, taking long walks in parks and in Pittsburgh, swimming, going to a baseball game. So help me out: what exactly should I pack? 

Day 227

Me to Jules: “What did you do this weekend?”

Jon’s parents watchedthe boys while we celebrated our 8^th anniversary in Montreal.

Jules: “We ate ice cream before our dinner.”

Jon, with a smirk: “Really?”

Jules: “Yes. It was Grandma’s idea. Papa said we neededreeaaal food but Grandma wanted to get us ice cream.”

Me, about to crack up: “Oh. So you and Grandma were sort ofon a team?” (“Yes.”) “What else did you do?”

Jules: “We had vanilla cookies. And we had gummies shapedlike men.”

Me: “Besides food, what did you do?”

Jules: “We went to the dog park. Grandma dropped her applethere. She dropped it by a bench.”

For the record, I know that they also went to the playgroundtwice—and spent almost the entire day at ShelburneMuseum’s Circus-palooza. And no doubt, Grandma and Papa read dozens ofbooks, pitched lots of baseballs and built loads of Lego structures. They werein good hands.

And Jon and I had a fantastic time - in part because we were armed with great recommendations. We stayed at Auberge Les Bon Matins, a colorful B&B downtown. My friend Dan had recommended the place last November but it had been booked. This time, we were luckier: there was room in the inn. Friday night, we arrived, settled in and walked to get some late-night sushi at Sho-Dan (thanks, Nicole!) 

Like Jules, Jon and I had a weekend that basically revolved around food. After kicking off Saturday with a run up run/walk up, run down Mont Royal, we had eggs and waffles and about a pot's worth of coffee back at the Inn. Then we hopped on the Metro to the Jean Talon market... after browsing the colorful stalls - each one seeming to outdo the last - we meandered over to over to Alep, a Syrian restaurant that came highly recommended by Bob, for lunch. Alep was closed. We spent a few minutes in a cute boutique and played with a handsome Calico cat. 

Then we hoofed it to St. Hubert (what appeared to be a garment district) for the great Cuban fare that Scott told us about. The sign on Caya Coco's door said to hang tight... they'd be right back in 15 minutes. We were hungry. And thirsty - so ran across the street to ShiShi Desserts for an appetizer: lemonade and mini cupcakes. Which turned out to be a good thing, as the super sweet owner told us that the Cuban resto-bar had become a full-time hookah lounge. Had we not ventured down for rice and beans, we would missed out on our midday Dulce Le Leche and Passion Fruit cakes. (Jules wasn't the only one savoring dessert before meals.)

The ShiShi baker recommend that we head a couple of blocks over to see whether Tapeo, a hot newish tapas bar might be open. Alas, it was not. But it looked awesome. Def on the list for next time. 

Now famished, we went back to the market and stopped for the first food we encountered. It was a taqueria and I'm not sure I'd recommend it. More browsing the market, then we jumped back on the metro to St. Catherine, did too much shopping and stopped to refuel with coffee Americanos. 

For dinner, Reinhold and Pam recommended L'Auberge Saint-Gabriel. I can't even describe how amazing it was - the food, the art, the service, the dental-floss dispenser in the restrooms - I highly suggest checking it out for yourself. Post-supper, we hit the Port for the fireworks. (Left early, gawked at the awesomeness that is Notre Dame... and marveled at the incredible, electric energy of Montreal.) 

Thanks, all, who helped make this such a fab weekend!