Pete and I have been on the prowl again this past weekend locating more of the Fore!Kids fleur de lis. Check ‘em out on our new fleur de lis page. We are now only missing three (well, four if you count the one that was stolen before we snapped its pic — Rrrr).

Hope you enjoy viewing them as much as we enjoy finding and photographing them!

I am back at work for the next couple of Fridays to help the transition of officially being back to work a bit easier. Going in before I am due allows me to get work done, chat about Sun, and sort through 500+ emails without getting new work yet. It’s nice. It also affords me the opportunity to eat at restaurants where a baby may not be so welcome. Yesterday’s culinary foray was to John Besh’s new Franco-German brasserie, Lüke. It did not disappoint.

Walking in, you see the seafood bar that has fancy crab legs and oysters from everywhere. The restaurant has a really good look to it; it is very inviting and relaxing with a nice bustle to it. Our waitress was pleasant, too; she was conscientious without being overly zealous.

For starts, I had the house salad. This is a large salad that has bits of pickled cucumber, carrots and beets nestled under the butterhead lettuce and is garnished with dill. Yummers! My friends ordered a soup and beet salad and these were both enjoyable too.

For my main dish, I ordered the red fish court bouillon with shrimp, crab and oysters. I had never had a court bouillon before, and I LOVED this dish. It was savory and juicy and chuck full of seafood without being overly rich or “soupy.” I was also told by my companions that the sauce for a court bouillon can be a bit like a shrimp creole sauce and that this court bouillon seemed more brown. It did have a tomato-y taste, but not like a shrimp creole. And that is a good thing for me. I like shrimp and I love tomatoes but I loathe really dislike the two together in shrimp creole.

My two friends each got the same thing–the croque monsieur. Lüke also offers the croque madame–the famous ham and cheese sandwich with an fried egg added to the top. The three of us all love the croque monsieur at Rene Bistro, and by the looks alone, this one did not seem quite as good. It was large, but it looked a little dry. The presentation was nice–they serve the sandwich on a wooden cutting board; this is a sandwich to be eaten with a knife and fork, and this presentation certainly encourages that. My friends confirmed that they preferred Rene’s but felt this one was pretty darn good. The pomme frites were excellent.

Overall, I really liked this restaurant–from the decor to its downtown location to the wait staff to (most importantly) the food. It hit on all cylinders and left me most satisfied. It certainly made my (almost) return to work a pleasure.

Pete, in his infinite wisdom, feels we should shift from hyper-technical Movable Type to WordPress. So here we are. Wish us luck!!

Early on in knowing Captain Sarcastic, I was aware that animals and small children responded to him–he has this uncanny ability to calm and relax them; they are uncontrollably drawn to him. So it came as no surprise that Sun finds peace in her daddy’s arms. I can rock, sing to, or walk with Sun endlessly. And she’ll even fall asleep. But within 15 minutes, there is a pretty good chance she’ll be up again. After about three rounds of this, I give up and send in CS. He’s the closer. He can get her down in no time every time and she is down for good. Rrrr.

Oh, and the cat? Since the baby was born, Peanut is even more into him than she was before–and that is saying a lot. She still crawls over me to get to CS to give him biscuits. CS summed it up quite succinctly recently: “If she won’t give you biscuits now, you’ll never get ‘em. I mean, you’re doughy and smell like milk.” Indeed.

With all the problems I’ve had with breastfeeding, there has been another kind of nukkie war being waged in our home. Sun loves to suck. She could suck all day. Except for one problem: the binky pops out of her small mouth. If she were a cartoon, I’d see “doonk” all day long in a cartoon bubble above her head. Has a parent ever been arrested for child abuse or turned into Child Protective Services for duct taping a binky to a baby’s face? I’m just askin’. . . .

Pete has been so kind as to take on upgrading this website. So please bear with us as we make improvements. I can now strike text easily: how cool is this?!? And I can also do a numbered list lickety split. For example, here is the list of current issues we are dealing with:

1. Allowing people to leave comments without me needing to approve them by instead requiring the commenter to type in those magic letters that lets the blog know the commenter is human and not a ‘bot,
2. Allowing me to draft a post from the entry screen and not the edit screen, and
3. Having my links work.

In the end, Movable Type 4 looks to be way cool, so your patience as we (wherein I mean Pete) learn how to make it all work smoothly is much appreciated. This test post is a good start!

I spent the weekend waxing philosophical about the halcyon days of my youth spent at my grandparents’ camp in Hopedale, Louisiana. And feeling bad that Sun won’t have the same experience.

I was one of five children; I had cousins my age and younger, as well as young grandparents and aunts and uncles. On the contrary, Sun probably won’t have a sibling, her cousin nearest in age to her is ten years her senior, and me being the youngest of my siblings, her grandparents and aunts and uncles (on my side) are not youthful. And CS’s family lives in Ohio (and Florida and Texas). The relative closest in age to Sun is her second cousin (well, technically, her first cousin once removed), and she lives in Virginia. In addition, the camp that I remember so fondly was wiped off the face of the earth by Katrina.

Is it wrong to want your child to be around family her own age as she grows up? Spending time at a fishing camp where kids are free to be kids? Where value lies not in what money can buy?

As I previously wrote about, my mother gave me a dresser and high chair that were used by her and her two siblings when they were all babies. The dresser has been refinished by my grandfather and uncle; you can read about that here. I am told that my uncle really did most of the work on the dresser, not my grandfather.

My grandfather and I each own a piece of real estate on the same block uptown. One house (a shotgun single, and the one CS and I now own) was purchased by my great-great grandfather over 100 years ago when my great grandfather married. The other (a shotgun double, and the one still owned by my grandfather) was purchased by my great grandfather, and my grandfather lived in one side when he first married. CS and I bought the single from my grandfather just before Katrina with the intention of adding on to it and moving into it. Katrina iced those plans for the time being.

Fast forward to last week. My uncle came over to discuss the tax assessment on my grandfather’s double with me. I am brought in on these types of discussions since I serve as the family legal adviser and since I too own real estate in the area.

While my uncle and I are sitting at my dinner table, he spies the high chair. I remind him that he used it as a baby. I ask if he has any recommendations for the top–it fits loosely and can pop off if you hit it just right, which I am certain little baby feet will do down the line. He looks at it like a cat looks at a toy–from all sides and all angles. He takes the top off and finally gives the diagnosis that the bracket is worn and needs a shim. Greeeaat. We locate a screwdriver (which is no small feat in CS’s toolbox) and he removes the offending bracket to take with him. He promises he’ll make a shim for it. Well, hell, if you want to come to my house and find things that need fixing and volunteer to fix them, feel free to drop by anytime!

So earlier this week, my uncle returns for me to notarize some paperwork related to this assessment situation. He comes with the shims. And his own screwdriver. And the high chair is now in safe working condition.

I LOVE my family! The next time he needs a notary, I’ll nudge him in the direction of my latest odd job that is needing attention.

While on maternity leave, I am trying to get things done that will just be harder to do once I am back at work.

Here’s what I’ve done so far:

1. Written countless thank-you notes for the gifts we’ve received since Sun was born. I am currently caught up!

2. Opened a savings account for Sun. What happened to the passbook savings? Now, instead of the cool passbook, they give you what looks like a check register. Not nearly as exciting to watch grow. Plus, the bank didn’t even enter her initial deposit–they expect me to do it. The passbook was much more official looking. To bad they are gone.

3. Opened a 529 account for Sun’s college savings. Can’t start early enough, from my way of thinking, to save for the ever-increasing cost of college.

4. Written two condolence cards. Let’s hope there will be no more of these any time soon.

5. Got caught up with reading my old newspapers and magazines. Also have read many novels during these eight weeks.

Still to do are the following items:

1. Finish knitting a blanket I started in October. I really am ready for a new and smaller project.

2. Balance my checkbook. From 2005. Katrina kinda threw me off (I love to blame as much as I can on Katrina!).

3. Resolve breastfeeding issues (hahahaha).

4. Lose remaining baby weight and an additional bit of weight (this will require me eating out less).

5. Resume yoga (have signed up for class starting in September–yipee!!).

6. Do laundry. There always seems to be laundry to do.

7. Fill in items in Sun’s baby book.

8. Print photographs to put in Sun’s photo album.

9. Sew strap for high chair (the high chair was my mother’s and the strap is missing).

10. Buy new work clothes. Want to look shiny and new when I return next month.

So much to do, so little time.

My dear friend who’d been struggling with lymphoma died last night. She learned of her cancer in October and initially expected to beat it in these nine months. This is a second friend of mine to die of cancer in as many months. She recently celebrated her 65th birthday. I just finished reading “Life of Pi,” and here is a quote from it:

Oncoming death is terrible enough, but worse still is oncoming death with time to spare, time in which all the happiness that was yours and all the happiness that might have been yours becomes clear to you. You see with utter lucidity all that you are losing. The sight brings on an oppressive sadness that no car about to hit you or water about to drown you can match. The feeling is truly unbearable.

Those are my feelings on what it would be like to die of cancer over a nine-month period. These were not her feelings. She told me over six months ago that she was ready to go–that she had lived a good life and had seen her son grow up, marry and adopt a son. She was always full of life and handled her cancer with dignity and strength. She never once complained (other than about one nurse who talked too much) and always saw the positive side of things–like fitting into her “skinny jeans” again and being able to sun bathe a lot having moved to Arizona recently to live near her son.

That is how I will remember her–floating around in a pool soaking in the sun, sipping on a cool, refreshing cocktail–and I will smile when I think of her.

Cheers to you, sweetie.