Sssshhh, don't tell anyone or they'll try to book me into something, but this is the first "almost" free weekend I've had since Halloween! I rushed home from work to try to visit the chunky monkey pictured above, but alas, he was cranky and his mother was putting him to bed early. Last weekend was his "half birthday" and his mother made him a rainbow cake and his grandma made him a crown (so much easier than baking). But they wouldn't let him have any! Just a tip of the tongue smidge of blue icing! He did start his first solids this week and I'm told after a few shuddering reactions, he is learning to like avocado.
So I went home depressed in the dark with the two dogs and an ailing Mr. Pom who is having a major back bout, with knowledge that there was no food in the house and -worse- only the dregs of a bottle of wine. Before I fell into a tarred pit of Friday night pity, I found a new book at the front door, unearthed an Amy's Burrito in the back of the freezer, remembered I had bought some new music on Itunes this week, and settled myself for a night in.
Over the past year, Mr. Pom has staked out our son's room as his Man Cave. He put up pinstripe wallpaper, bought a big (ugly) flannel duvet, and stretches out in there at night to rest his back and watch football, hockey, or baseball in season. This has led me to start referring to "my bedroom" instead of "our bedroom" and I'm in the planning for a major remodeling.
Is it very immature that I still like hanging out on my bed like a teenager over any other place in the house? And that my greatest delight iif no one's home, is taking a bowl of soup straight up to the bedroom from work, putting on pajamas, and not leaving the room again until the alarm clock goes off in the morning? (You know, the wall across from the bed could use a couple dozen of tear outs from some mags.....)
Yes, I prefer to work on my bed - I type deposition reports on my bed, surf the net, watercolor, work on my planner, collage, read, talk on the phone, drink wine, tea, or coffee, catch up with whatever child is passing through, and kick the dogs off when they encroach too much on my personal space (i.e. no where to put my legs).
Mr. Pom yell to each other across the hall thru the evening:
Are you watching Modern Family?
Hey - lower that game, I can't hear what Maggie Smith is saying on Downton Abbey!
It's a sitcom around here in the empty nest.
Here are some pictures (taken on the bed) of this incredibly carbo-loaded, amazingly art-directed, and absolutely scrumptious new recipe book that was waiting for me:
That is a brioche with blueberries baked into it. I would give you my first born (but not her first born) if you made me this.
If breakfast or tea is your favorite meal, then you will swoon over recipes like maple bacon biscuits.
Don't wrinkle you nose at brussel sprouts; when roasted, they are taste like crunchy, tiny artichokes.
I do believe I need a yellow kitchen aid, though my white one works fine and I use it only once a year; also: have had my eye on a seafoam green one.
My go-to nothing-in-the-fridge-weeknight supper is a soft poached or sunny side up egg over any leftovers, veggies, tomatoes, or past their prime cold cuts that I can braise and strew with goat cheese, parmesan, or sinfully, a little La Tur. Alas, only The Graphic Designer shares my love of runny yolks, so Mr. Pom is on his own those nights.
I have turned a sad pitiful little Friday night into a one-person pajama party. I am listening to The New Basement Tapes : "lost"songs never finished by Bob Dylan 47 years ago and now with lyrics and arrangements by the likes of Marcus Mumford, T Bone Burnett, Elvis Costello, Taylor Goldsmith (my boyfriend from Dawes) and others. Uneven, but I have my favorites.
Whenever I see these uber cool band publicity shots, I always want to be a musician. Or date one. And then I remember the incredible self-absorption of all the ones I knew in college....
Lasty, in this gallimaufry of a post, I leave you with a few pics of another book that is waiting on the other side of the bed (which Mr. Pom will shove onto my side when he crawls into his side after the Rangers game is over).
I know, I know! Right now there are so many amazing new art books out there that I can't keep up. Though I pledge to bring you as many as possible, which means, of course, buying as many as possible. Hey book publishers - how about sending Mrs. Pom so review copies. I promise I'll get the word out!
Do something cozy and creative this freezing cold, windy weekend. I am trying to garner some support for a trip to see the Matisse cut outs at MOMA tomorrow, but so far no takers. Sisters? Anyone out there?