??

Wouldn't it be funny to spend the entire day creeping around on your tippy-toes, like you're about to sneak up on someone (shoulders hunched, necked pulled in, arms tucked, hands in a claw-like fashion), hoping no one sees you?

Just one day. Creeping around. All day long.

5 Jours dans Bruxelles

For five days Scott and I had only ourselves, some really surprisingly decent weather, and the freedom to do whatever the heck we wanted in Brussels. We strolled around. Checked out some favorite haunts, ate crazy-awesomely good food, drank local wine and beer, and discovered some new 'hoods.

But most importantly, the biggest take away? And the one thing that's hardest to find when you're home? Time.

The greatest appeal to me with Brussels is their whole cafe' culture. Sit outside with your coffee or your wine or your beer. And sit. Chat. Sit. Stare. But mostly sit still. And just take it all in.



Recommendations for a short visit (for greater impact, clicking on the red words will help immensely):

We stayed at the Amigo (right next to the Grand Place, perfect for a short stay without kids).

We dined here: Le Hasard des Choses (random things), Lola, La Manufacture (formerly a Delvaux factory), La Villette (moules et frites), and Little Asia (Vietnamese).

We drank here: Roy de Espagne (in the Grand Place), Mappa Mundo (see above), and the lounge at the Amigo.

and we walked here: Cantillon Brewery, Place St-Géry, Horta Museum, and Parc de Bruxelles

and we slept here: @@@@@

That's it, I'm leaving.

I had my wallet stolen last Friday. I have one worried/anxious/panicky 7 year old. And a 10 year old with a sore throat. And I have so much minutiae and details and whatnot floating around in my head that I left my keys on the kitchen counter, can't find my sunglasses, and quite possibly may have left the house without getting fully dressed.

But no matter what; tonight I leave for my little honey of a 5-day-get-away with Scott. Barring Armageddon, I'm getting on that plane tonight and will arrive in Brussels tomorrow morn. And I will practice all of my superstitious mental exercises so that the plane won't crash. And I will pine for my kids-but just for a little bit. I will stroll, I will eat, and I will drink. I will take it all in, like a ice cold bottle of water after a good, long, hot run.

And I may even write some bad poetry.

Show me some shimmy

I now have the moves I need to win the next Sutton Family Dance Contest. And I am so very proud. People.....you. are. going DOWN!



The Top (Music Video) from Francis and the Lights on Vimeo.

Choose!

What's worse:


A. Sitting in the dentist's chair for say maybe 30 minutes without realizing that your high-fashioned wrap-around top is gaping open to such an embarrassing extent

* OR *

B. Going to your 5th grader's breakfast with your fly open the entire time (picture: hands in pockets, possibly gaping open zipper...)


(I'm going with A because technically isn't the dentist a medical person and medical people are sorta, somehow used to embarrassing physical situations? )

Bonjour encore, Mon ami!

One way to cope with all this back to school mumbojumbo and end of summer funk might be visiting an old friend and getting myself over to Brussels for a couple of days. I've made sure the kids are safe and squared away with family and friends, and now Scott and I can enjoy a trip back to a favorite haunt. I'm desperate for some time to collect my thoughts, reflect, and just sit still. It's always easier for me to gain some perspective when I leave my home, my family, or my country.

Booty call

Call me crazy but is it so wrong of me to want to shake my booty at the grocery store when that 70's disco classic, A Fifth of Beethoven, comes on over the airwaves? It's my booty, right?

Shake your booty *here*

The Modfather

(photo from Paul Weller.com)

You know. Paul. Of The Jam, of Style Council. Paul Weller. The Modfather. He was here. He was in Boston. Performed last night. And I didn't see him play. Nope. Big regret.

But I am going to share a favorite oldie (that could be interpreted as a commentary on this effin' media nightmare we're suffering through)

In his honor.

"That's Entertainment" by The Jam, circa '81

Country--+--First

I knew something was a little off with the missing article like, THE Country or OUR Country. It was meant to be taken literally.....now I get it.

(forgive the somewhat adultish content)

Helmet Head

If I ever really did need a helmet, this is the one I'd wear:


It's so gorgeous I'd wear it daily. My subway helmet. My picking up the kids at school helmet. My walking to the pool helmet.

More headgear beauty and such can be found at Les Ateliers Ruby (featured in yesterday's NY Times Men's Style mag).

Nature's Goodness

It was the first weekend post start-of-school that we actually had little or no plans. Really, the only thing we could do is dive into some local produce, maybe a coupla bottles of rose' and get some Shuggie Otis tunes cranking in the background.

With a quick trip to Allandale Farm (oh I'm sorry, do I mean the oldest continuously working farm in the United States..only since the mid 1750's? - uh - yeah.) I was able to pick up some mammoth radishes (that only Mary Anne could eat in that episode of Gilligan's Island when a crate of radioactive vegetable seeds washes up on their shore), along with some plump, juicy tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella, and a freshly baked baguette. And then a nice pint of figs that are in season seemed to round out our little Saturday night 'do nicely.

Here's what I served:

Radish, butter and salt. Three ingredients. Classique et perfection.


Then, another classic from another favorite European country: Tomato, buffalo mozzarella, fresh basil, a drizzle of olive oil, and salt. I really think tomatoes in season coupled with a fine buffalo mozzarella makes all the difference to this. Funny, I'm not sure I ever noticed that the colors of this dish are the exact the colors of the Italian flag (red, green, and white).

Perhaps not so coincidental.


And then finally, I stuffed the figs with some Stilton Blue, wrapped them in prosciutto, and roasted them at 400 for 15 minutes. Drizzle with a little honey and thereyahaveit. Shuggie was the added flair for the evening. With Hannah blowing and raining up a storm out our windows it could not have been a better way to ring in Autumn.

(recipe and photo from foodnetwork.com)

What I really need is a new handbag and all my troubles will go away

I'm riding the subway with a bajillion other people these days now that school's back and session. Boston seems like a tub of water that's about to overflow with humans. As I navigate through shoulders, elbows, backpacks, etc. I'm noticing more and more lately that with the start of this shiny new academic year what I really need is not a subway riding tracksuit but a new handbag.

For years my bag of choice has been from Jutta Neumann. My friend Megan turned me on to Jutta's sandals and bags. Beautiful handmade bags, but my complaints are: enormous black hole when fishing for the g-d phone and shoulder straps tend to be on the cutting-into-my-shoulder category. At least with this style. Her other styles, not so much. But gorgeous leather, functional, if not utilitarian.

And lately I've found myself gazing, staring, fondling bags from Tano. This raspberry one is particularly attractive to me. Soft leather. Slightly shiny. Contrasting and sturdy handles. And I'm all for the buckle accoutrement.

But then there's the black hole issue again.

And from Pollux Handmade I found this. Minimalist. Simple. Heavy leather. Reminds me of those old western mailbags that Cowboys would use on horses, with that lovely strap and buckle. But maybe a bit too much like the Jutta Neumann (and three time's the cash). Didn't get it. But like a favorite picture I have of my skinnier days I keep going back and back and back to take a peak.


Another bag that was seen more around the scene a couple of years ago was from Foley+Corinna. I love the versatility of this bag, either in the large or mid size. Grab it by the handles or fold it over and use the straps.
But for $485 I'm not so crazy with the hardware and what is a very thin leather strap. Eh.


Then. Then I found this. This beauty of a bag. The bag. Check this out:

(the front)

(the back)

Discovered when trolling around Christiane Celle, one of my all time favorites retailers on Newbury Street. Designed by buba, a London an accessory retailer. Sure, there's the black hole issue but I'm such a sucker for Art Nouveau. And it's quite a departure from my previous simple but useful style obsession. I've never been one for the suitcase or luggage looking Marc Jacobsy-buckle-fantasia-bags. Just don't likey. But this......I'm tellin' ya, anything with that Parisienne turn of the century flourish, I so love.

And only for a mere $850.

So, the kids are out selling cutlery, door-to-door for mama's new bag.

Braids make the woman

I love my family, I really do. I love their affection, their warmth, and support - but when I think that a pair of braids might be a good idea on my pea-sized head, I wish they would come clean and tell me that I may want to rethink the whole Heidi idea.

BTS Rulz!

I love back-to-school stuff. I love the supply lists, I love the hype, and I love the drama. But what I mostly really truly love is the shopping.

I love waiting until the last minute to go to Target so I can wade through the other procrastinators and shuffle along the messy aisles of shredded school supplies or crumpled clothing that are strewn about.

I love dodging anyone that looks vaguely familiar because I'm so cranky and I'm afraid I might either swear or spit. In their face.

I love delivering threat upon threat that if I hear one more thing about Pokemon (said: "Pokie Man") cards all screen time is off the table for not one day but two.

I love trying so hard not to lose it completely because someone decides at the absolutely wrong time that they have to go to the bathroom. Which would mean losing our spot in the check-out aisle because said bouncing-red-faced-seven-year-old refuses to go alone.

And I really love the fact that I always seem to grab that one squeaky, lopsided cart that I have to wrangle to stay straight or keep from plowing into the calm family of 8 that always seem to be in my path.

I love back to school stuff.

Big Superlatives from the littlest state

Still finding sand in pockets, cuffs of sleeves, underwear, and ear drums....but our two week love affair with the beaches of Rhode Island has gently ended. Not unlike that overdone cheesy image of holding hands gently pulling away, we bid a fond farewell to our summertime love and obsession.

But!

Not without a little swan song and seafood shenanigans!

If you ever happen to find yourself at the active fishing port of Point Judith and Galilee, where the Block Island ferry is located I would HIGHLY RECOMMEND a stop at:

(my very pathetic attempt at photography while on the ferry to BI, RI)

This little Rhody institution is the place for all your New England clambake, quahog, lobster, scallop, clam, squid, needs. Cow and foul are also served for the landlubber types.


While Rhode Island clam chowder (the RI clear kind, the Manhattan red kind, or the easier New England creamy kind) enjoys a fierce competition among its fan base, Champlin's does a decent enough job. Their clam cakes aren't too greasy, their lobster rolls aren't too mayo-y, and their lobsters aren't too pithy. It's not the best in New England seafood offering but for the location, the local color, and the ice cold Sam Adams on tap when you're surrounded by Madaket Millies and 'Sconset Sals-and other salty-swampy types-working the fryer, the grill, and taking orders, I can't think of a better way to enjoy an authentic slice of the New England coast. Gruffness and missing teeth not withstanding.



.....more little Rhody superlatives to follow.....