Rolling through Citrus Heights last night, I remembered last year when Ira made a passionate critique on a (then) new-ish installed public art sculpture: “that’s not even art!” He was 3. I’m just going to go ahead and set this kid up with his own blog.

Pet rock

This is a rock in a jar. You can see that. What you can't see is Ira's imaginary fish. But doesn't it all seem totally depressing? My kid keeps a rock in a jar full of water as a pet!

He's been asking for a pet fish on and off for the last few months. I told him that pet fish were not for four year olds (we use that one a lot). The truth is that he could probably do well with a fish in his room, but I don't have the energy to take care of one more living small thing.

Fair warning

Ira: "Mom, me and dad are rough and tough guys and you have to watch out for us."

Kid, I already do! There was more to this post, but I forgot what I was going to write. The fleeting inspiration gave way to the Words With Friends game I've got going with CHR. I just totally had a bingo but couldn't place it! So frustrating.

What a load of croque!

I made these open-faced croque monsieurs, styled after some ones I had at Tartine in SF. Leon said they were too creamy, which I don't believe (what a croque!) because if anyone hates creamy, it's me.

Here's a short list of creamy foods I don't like: sour cream, cream cheese, alfredo sauce, mayonnaise, creamy pesto, yogurt-based sauces, spinach dip. Here's a list of creamy foods that I will eat: creamy desserts, goat cheese, bechamel and tzatziki sauce. I'm a complicated lady, don't try to figure me out.

Anyway. The sandwiches were pretty good. I used this croque montagnarde recipe from Martha Stewart as a starting point for the bechamel and oven directions. Then I sauteed some asparagus and mushrooms in butter, white wine, salt and pepper. I put a layer of sauce, then a layer of veggies on slices of cibatta and topped each piece with 3 slices of Gruyere. Then I baked them at 425 for 12 minutes or so. They were really good, but so rich. I have a ton of left over bechamel sauce that I don't know what to do with. Mac and cheese? Vegetarian moussaka? I hope I figure something out soon. I'm not sure how long this stuff keeps.

Spring break!

This is the cover of Ira's catchy solo album that he'll release right before he goes psychedelic.

I have this all planned out. The best part is when Leon and I get to retire in our Florida beach condo with our fifth cloned Heylove.

We all had a little bit of spring break last week. Ira really, really wanted to hit up Lake Havasu, but no. Just no. He's a frat boy in training I swear. I stayed home two days, Leon stayed home two days and we spent one day together in SF at the Academy of Sciences. It was free day and the line was a mile long if it was an inch. The tickets I purchased didn't even get us bumped to the front. We waited anyway and got in just fine.


We let Ira scamper all around learning about all kinds of scientific things. He's a curious guy and will ask you why until the sun goes down. Sometimes the answer is air pressure (it's always air pressure!) and sometimes we have to end these marathon why sessions with "why do you think?" or "that's just how nature wants it."



We had a really full day and Ira conked out right before dinner.



Leon and I had a hankering to head to the Trappist Monk's Kettle, so there we went. I had a Pliny and a Retribution IPA. Leon had something that made dollar signs float out of his eyes. Ira stayed asleep through almost the whole dinner. I joked with they waiter that if he should wake up, he's cut off from beers, no matter what he says. I'm funny, get it?

Blech. I just tried to use a bunch of apps to make this stupid iPhone picture of me drinking the tiniest glass of beer look more glamorous. Unfortunately, there is no app that I've found that filters out the haggardness of a mom.

The photographer

We found our old digital camera in a drawer. It is kind of broken and everything comes out with this purple tint, but Ira doesn't care. We attached it to his wrist and let him loose in the front yard. Here's what he shot:


Our house looks huge from this angle! He could get a job as someone who takes those crappy pictures of houses for Metro List.



Here's one he took of Leon washing my car. It rained the next day! Leon has an incredible power to bring on the rain. If he even thinks about washing a car, the storm clouds come swooping in. I am pretty sure you can blame him for the showers we had this week.



And here's a self-portrait where his teeth look like little brown stumps. I swear (see the previous post), that we take his dental hygiene seriously. They're white, so don't sweat it.

Checking up

Hey, just checking in.

Speaking of checking, I hope you are checking out how adorable this kid is. This morning, as I was trying to get him out of bed he says, "Mom, just walk away." It was pretty funny. I had to walk away to compose myself before I tried waking him again. Mornings at 6:30 can be totally rough in our house. Ira could sleep an extra hour or two if we let him, but only on school days! On weekends, he's up, bright and chipper by 6:30 a.m., no later! I do not understand this.

I've got a new strategy for waking grumpy, and it is called Cute Roulette. This morning, a video of a howling beagle puppy saved our lives and Ira woke up on the right side of the bed. Tantrum averted. I didn't even have to use my AK.