Birthday Boy and Silhouette Man

Happy birthday, Josh! April 27th is here, and I can reveal your present, which has been tucked away inside this drawer:

Here's a clue:

It's from this photo.

And here it is: 


Happy Birthday!



It was made by Tim Arnold, a.k.a. "The Silhouette Man." He's been cutting silhouettes for over thirty years, is recommended by The Smithsonian, and cut silhouettes of President George H. W. Bush's three grandchildren as a birthday gift for Barbara Bush. 

I've been in touch with the Arnolds over the past few weeks after dialing Tim's number to ask a question. His wife answered the phone, and before I knew it, I was enrolled in Silhouettes 101 (with an extremely knowledgeable and lovely teacher).

I learned that Margaret's silhouette is cut from "black carbon embedded cotton paper on archival quality mounting paper that won't yellow with age." The detail is remarkable. In fact, Tim has become known for his accuracy and beautiful interior detailing...created by inside cuts of the paper. 

Mrs. Arnold explained that Tim's silhouettes are of the French Embellishment Style which originated in the 1700s by a man named Mr. Silhouette. He created silhouettes as a form of portraiture before the invention of photography. This particular style traditionally includes the entire bust of the subject, though Tim creates special order silhouettes, as well. It's worth taking a look at the "samples" page  of his website!

I think it's beautiful and Josh, I'm hoping you'll really love it, too. Love you and happy birthday!

Happy Easter!

Here's a peak into our Easter morning. 

Easter Bunny delivered! Yessssss! 

Wook Dad!

Hope your Sunday morning was a happy one, too! Happy Easter!

Buggin' Out

We've been buggin' out around here, and I mean that in a good way. There is a corner of our front yard that is well stocked with little creatures named armadillidiidae. In these here parts, we call them roly polies. In the afternoons, we've been planting ourselves in this spot. Here's the play-by-by.


The rolies live where a strip of grass meets this little brick wall. Margaret pulls back the grass.

And TADA..."a woly poly!"

She tries to make their new home comfy with grass and leaves. She offers them a crumble of her granola bar which is her favorite snack. She thinks this jar idea is the greatest invention since...well...the granola bar. We hope they're happy in their new home.

She looks inside a hundred and eight times to make sure they are ok and that they haven't "gone to school" or "gone to dare mamma."

Please take a look at the sky on this particular day...prime for huntin' rolies!

By 7:30 pm, her new friends have hardly left her side. Here they are, post bath. Despite the fact that her jar is transparant, she feels the need to open the lid to peak inside. Not sure how I feel about this, since they're hanging out on my bed. 

I've since declared my bed a bug-free zone. If you've got a bug catcher in your parts, you may want to do the same. You never know what might creep out!


P.S.  Margaret's mani/pedi are compliments of Aunt Liz. (Only an aunt could get away with that!:)


P.S.S.  The next day, she had a new recruit.

Things that Go Bump

You'd have thought that the move from our little 8th floor apartment on the corner of 85th Street and Broadway:

to suburbia:





would make for a more peaceful night sleep. Surprisingly, thus far we've found that NOT to be the case.

EXHIBIT A: 

It's 2:25 a.m. I hear a bizarre noise coming from the kitchen. The next few minutes go something like this: "Josh, wake up. I don't think it's a big deal...but, it sounds like there is a giant fish flopping around on the kitchen floor." Half asleep and dumbfounded at what this may be, I seriously entertain the thought of a 10 lb bass (if those even exist) flopping back and forth on the floor of the kitchen. Josh gets up to make his now common middle-of-the-night pilgrimage down the hall. While he's gone, I start to send Van a message, since, in my partial slumber, it seemed important to have a live record of the "giant fish." Before I could press send, Josh was next to our bed, looking over me, silently. He then breaks out in uncontrollable laughter as he reveals that the "giant fish" is actually this:

(Actor portraying real life bird)

Apparently the sound of a giant fish flapping on a kitchen floor makes the identical sound of a poor little  bird trying to escape from a kitchen.

                                                                                                                                                          
EXHIBIT B:
                                                                                                                                                                      
Again, 2 something am. We hear what sounds like Mike Tyson practicing on his punching bag in the middle of our bedroom. I am scared stiff. When the light goes on, the culprit shows himself, crammed in between the blades of our bedroom ceiling fan:

It was Barney, in helium form.

                                                                                                                                                                     
I'm happy to report that our little feathered friend survived his kitchen entrapment. Inflated Barney, on the other hand, was not so lucky.

The moral of the story: take heed if there are any helium balloons floating near your ceiling fans, and if you haven't done so already, close your chimney flap this spring! Here's hoping for more restful nights in suburbia.

Louise...

is taking her nap and I'm sitting down real quick to write about last weekend.  I sense someone staring at me. I turn my head to this:

Last weekend was her baptism, and it was nothing short of a great day. Afterwards we celebrated at our house with family. 

A few pics of the day:

Centerpieces: compliments of Carol 

Finished product on Granny's tablecloth, bellissimo!

Lunchtime highlight was the orzo salad with roasted vegetables:

It's a recipe worth passing along, and I'll get that out in a post soon.


The best was saved for last:

...a white chocolate raspberry cake for which a local baker named Nannette Mayhall has become known for. After tasting it, I can see why! I froze the leftover cake so it would be an out-of-site out-of-mind kind of thing. Turns out, I had a big piece at 9:30 the next morning. By "big" I mean two medium size pieces.


And...the biggest treat of the day was:

She was a trooper, even with all her required regalia.

and with Father Mark after it was said and done.

Granny and Her Flashlights

One night last week, I was awakened by the loudest thunder and brightest lightening storm I can remember. The thunder and lightening came almost simultaneously, and as learned at summer camp, that means it's  right on top of you (or close enough). Lying in bed, counting the frequency of lightening flashes per minute, I hear from my bunk mate, "You up, too?" 


I was glad my counting was interrupted because my heart was beginning to pound. I love a good storm, but this was a bit much. I was waiting for the Von Trapp's to jump on our bed:

When the dog bites...!

Then, we hear a "beep" (3 second pause) "beep" (3 second pause, so on and so forth). The house alarm was telling us that the power is out, and that it's going to do that beep until the electricity comes back on or until we do something about it. Josh decided to get up and check things out and I was ready to follow. That's when Aunt Pat and Granny come into play.


Aunt Pat has given us what I consider to be an heirloom collection of flashlights over last  several Christmases. The gift tradition started with a basic model and has morphed from baseball caps with mini lights shooting out the bill, to illuminating ear clips, to this latest and greatest hands-free version:

The above hands-free lighted frames were rather handy on this night as Josh attempted to hush the "beep" from our alarm.

On this same night, I had a mini epiphany. I realized what the inspiration behind all of Pat's flashlights gifts may be: GRANNY! I remember an assortment of flashlights sitting on Granny's bedside table. What I love is that she did not use them just when the power was out. Once it was dark out, she used them regularly to walk from say her bedroom to the kitchen, instead of turning the lights on. The one I remember most looked a lot like this:

I love when feel-good memories resurface. It got me reminiscing about more-things-Granny, including gardening shovels and birdseed stored in the back of her Bronco, pimento cheese sandwiches, Virginia Slims, Coca Cola, the Golden Girls (she identified most with Dorothy) and her collection of these:

They lined the floor of her closet.

This post may be of interest only to those who knew my grandmother, but maybe it's got the potential to spark some memories of your own.


And by the way, if you're interested in starting your own flashlight collection, there's some really cool vintage ones on Ebay. One is on its way to me:)