Peter is 11 months old!

I can't believe the little guy is almost a year old. He's getting pretty annoying now that he can reach me wherever I try and sleep, but Erika and Martin seem determined to keep him around so I put up with a lot of abuse. The worst is when he pulls my belly hair. I don't let ANYONE touch my tummy.

At least I can still outrun him, although that too is about to change. He's getting really good at standing and moving along the couch and even balancing for a moment on his own two feet before he switches his grasp to the chair. sigh.

Incredibly, he is still well behaved in restaurants, or so I hear. Erika and Peter had breakfast this morning at their favorite (Al's Good Food) and the bus boy who goes by "Puerto Rico" even gave Peter a present –– his own kitty cat puppet. Might have been to make up for waitress "Mama Jeana's" bad mood. You'd be in a bad mood too if you were about to turn 80 next month and still had to deal with prima donna customers and miss church on Sundays. Her sister, who works the register, goes every Sunday to pray for her. They are celebrating Jean's birthday all April at Al's with cake and champagne –– be sure to stop by if you are in the hood...

[Unrelated note to Andrew: Have you noticed? I finally learned how to create an "m" dash on the Mac! I was cringing before, whenever I had to substitute an incorrect "n" dash (the only kind I knew how to make), knowing a New York Times copy editor was reading and shaking his head in disapproval...]

In other news, everyone in this house except me has been on an All Bread All the Time diet for the past week. Erika has been taking a really great class at the San Francisco Baking Institute. Behold:

That is just a few of the 70 loaves she baked last week. She is learning a ton by baking all that bread. Each loaf has a slightly different fermentation time, mix time, flour, pre-ferment, or additional ingredient. Something as small as the way you score the bread before putting it in the oven can have an effect on the final loaf. Fascinating stuff. She has yet to make the transition from the commercial ovens at school to the one in her kitchen at home, but promises to report back (and feed anyone who comes within 5 miles of her apartment).

We've had our hands full this weekend with sole care of the baby. Martin took a well-deserved break and flew to Nevada on Friday to camp in the desert with his buddies for a few nights. Brrrr. He'll be back Monday morning, weather willing. Until then he is subsisting on whiskey, beef jerky, and...bread.

Guest Post from Erika: On Creating Community

I am having an "I miss New York" kind of day today. No reason. It's intermittently raining cats and dogs here in San Francisco, but no thunder or lightening like we would get in New York. Just feeling nostalgic.

So I started thinking about what exactly it is that I miss about the Big Apple aka Center of the Universe/Best City on Earth. These days when I start to feel all wistful inside, I always picture myself in our Greenwich Ave. apartment, up in the trees with the clock tower outside of every window. I envision walking down all five flights of stairs, through the courtyard (peeking into the tiny Indian restaurant kitchen to see what's happening there), through the front building (peeking at the "free stuff" table in the entryway to see if there is anything good), and out onto the street. For some reason in these fantasies I am always heading towards 6th Avenue, where I join the throng of humanity that is constantly circulating in Greenwich Village, and in fact in all of Manhattan.

And that is what I miss. Being part of that throng. Knowing that if I leave the house at 7am or 3pm or 11pm or 4am and walk down the street, I will be among people. People who are mostly in a big hurry to get to wherever it is they are going. Different kinds of people, depending on the hour, but if I visit one of my favorite haunts, I will likely find people that I know or people that I might like to know. My people. My community. Because people in New York City aren't isolated from each other behind glass in sealed, air-conditioned cars or even in apartments that don't make you crazy after being crammed in one for longer than a few hours. They are out, walking around on the street and interacting with each other for better or worse.

I realize now that every project that I take on or become a part of, from Break-up Boot Camp to the Black Rock City Airport, to the Babysitting Co-op that I started this past weekend, has building community at its root (and the letter "B", it appears, but that's another story). I'm not sure why I am driven to do this (Late onset of some kind of only child syndrome? More therapy obviously needed.), but it really is what drives me to do almost everything I enjoy doing.

And speaking of community, we didn't get the house in Nevada City. Which I am ok with, since I am having a pretty good time enjoying San Francisco right now. And preventing Peter from eating all of the entirely unsuitable things he finds, which just today included a CD case and the tiny bits of paper that came off it, a belt, a power source, a camera, the rubber ring from a food mill, something that may or may not have been pasta at one time, mascara, my jeans, and the cat. And that was all before noon. Toys and stuffed animals? BO-RING. Forks, wires, and kitty litter? NOW you're talking. This stay at home mom thing is a seriously full time job. Thank goodness for nap time.

Peter's First Flight in the Apache

Erika and Martin had to go up to Nevada City on Saturday to check out a very promising house, and they decided it would be fun to fly. I elected to stay home on the couch (I'm not crazy about moving vehicles of any kind), but they took the kid with them. Here are some photos:

Erika parked her new car right on the tarmac! (Is it still called "tarmac", Martin?).


Just kidding. She actually parked it right behind the Apache.



Peter gave Martin the "thumbs up" after we strapped him in - definitely his father's son.


He wasn't so sure about the headset...


But then he noticed the view! The wires go to a noise-canceling device. We don't want to ruin his hearing quite yet – there will be plenty of time for that when he is a teenager. The 80s headband just keeps the headphones in place.


Flying is cool!


Flying is tiring.


Oh, and the house? It was incredible. We made an offer. But we are playing it cool. Stay tuned.