Peter is 6 months old!

Well it's been a quiet week in...oh wait, that is a whole different blog. It was a quiet week though. The biggest change in my life was that Jana, in an effort to get a bit more comfortable on the sofa bed, converted my bed back to the sofa. So now I get to sleep all day in my favorite position again, head upon the purple velvet pillows.

Peter had a big week - he turned 6 months old. Here he is, looking like the hippie child that he is destined to become.

Yes, he still looks exactly like Martin. At least he has a Willett appetite for good food. He tried solid food for the first time this week (rice cereal) and LOVED it! More! More! Stay tuned for avocados next week...

Erika decided to celebrate the Week of the Pig and ate pork for lunch three days straight. Starting with the barbecued pig and mango salad at the local Thai place (Koh Samui and the Monkey), followed by the "Hot and Wild Pig Sandwich" at the Brick House Cafe, finishing with the Pig Salad at The South Park Cafe. The South Park Cafe blew away the competition, as usual. She is attempting to barbecue her own pig tonight, after coming down from Saturday's baking frenzy: one loaf of lemon rosemary bread baked in grandma's cloche (delicious), one loaf of whole wheat sourdough (still not rising properly), several batches of toasted pumpkin seeds (we carved jack o lanterns on Saturday night) and one big batch of Snickerdoodle cookies (YUM).

Ah, Fall. Though it hasn't felt much like a traditional Autumn lately, with 85-degree weather here in San Francisco. Erika had to swap out hot mulled apple cider for lemonade as an accompaniment to the Snickerdoodles at the last minute. She's back to Manhattans tonight, which are delicious in any weather. Maybe if I'm lucky they will leave the almost-empty glasses on the coffee table again...

Peter Plays the Field

Rumors are swirling around Baby About Town Peter George as he was spotted this week with TWO different lovely ladies! Strolling around Lake Merritt with "Lulu" and picnicking in Sonoma county with "Ella", Peter looked like he was having a fine time in female company.

Guest Post from Erika: Autumn Trumps Summer

It used to be that autumn was my least favorite season, mostly because it meant the end of warm summer weather and going back to school. I've realized recently that for several years now I've been looking forward to autumn more than I've been looking forward to summer.

There are two main reasons why summer has fallen out of favor with me. One, I live in San Francisco where summer is cold and miserable and fall is warm and beautiful (the temperature has been in the 70s all week). Two, I don't get to take the whole summer off from work like I used to take off from school.

Fall, on the other hand, seems to have more and more going for it every year, especially living in the Bay Area. Fleet Week is in October. It's this weekend, actually, and the Blue Angels have been buzzing our house for the past two afternoons as they practice. They got close enough on Thursday that Martin could actually smell the jet fuel. Thrilling for us, a little frightening I think for my mother in law, whose native country has been invaded by foreign armies twice in her lifetime.

Apple Hill is in full swing this time of year, and I have many sweet memories of trekking up there to collect apples and my once-yearly dose of apple pie. Burning Man's Decompression party is traditionally held in October, and we always enjoy re-living our Burning Man experience there, and seeing playa friends who didn't make it in August. Halloween is even starting to hold a little more appeal for me, now that I have a Baby to dress up as something cute and/or humiliating (yes, Dad, I still remember the Chicken costume from when I was five). I do always look forward to one aspect of Halloween -- carving jack o lanterns and toasting the pumpkin seeds. And then there is the Dia de los Muertos parade a few days after Halloween, which passes just blocks from our house. I have always felt more at home with this family-centered ritual of honoring and feasting with dead ancestors than with the negative energy and scariness of Halloween.

All in all, I have so much to look forward to in the fall these days, it might just be my new favorite season. Until egg nog lattes come back in December.

Guest Post from Erika in Boston

Yes, Erika is in exotic Boston, Massachusetts for training (work stuff), spending time away from Peter for the first time ever. And actually, after an initial hunger strike scare, I think we are all doing just fine. In fact, (she says, with only a slight twinge of guilt), I'm actually managing to enjoy myself. Does that make me a bad mother? Sure, I miss Peter, and must content myself with phone calls every few hours and e-mailed pictures of Peter banging away on Martin's computer. But it is only for four days, and it's sort of nice, not having to worry about the baby every second because I am three thousand miles away and there is Nothing I Can Do About It. Martin and Jana are troopers, taking on the responsibility, but they make a great team and I have the utmost faith in both of them. For four days anyway. ;-)

It helps that I have somehow ended up in an Executive Level King-sized Suite with a view of the Charles River out my window. I awoke this morning to see the river filled with rowers - single scullers, pairs, fours, even a few eights. It was so inspirational that I bounced out of bed at a truly ungodly jetlagged hour and (after pumping - no rest for the mothers) decided to go for a walk along the river. The walk actually turned into my first jog in over a year, and it felt pretty good!

Part of what inspired me was seeing so many people running, jogging, biking, and rowing along the river. Except for the traffic, it's a lovely place to exercise. The trees are still mostly green with a tinge of orange on some of them. A few early adopters have already gone completely red/yellow/orange to prove that Fall really is on its way, but you wouldn't know it from the balmy weather. At least 3/4 of the folks I saw were wearing Harvard maroon, and I wondered if anyone confused me with a Princetonite in my unfortunate color combination choice of neon orange and purple (I couldn't find my BLACK polypropelene top when I was packing).

The river is lined with the most incredible, dignified and elaborately designed boathouses. The first time I saw them was back in 1992, when I came to Boston to race in the Head of the Charles Regatta. I came from the West Coast, where most people have never heard of "crew" and we rowed out of a converted horse stable on a "lake" that we shared with giant United States Navy ships. Radcliffe was kind enough to let us borrow a boat and some oars. We repaid them by beating them soundly and then asking for the shirts off their backs, which they refused (but that is another story). We were in awe of Radcliffe's boat house. It looked like some sort of chateau to us West Coasters with its beautiful windows and fire place, and the history behind it was palpable. I realized then that rowing was an entirely different sport on the East coast, with a different set of social rules. Kind of a reflection of the general differences between East and West Coast culture.

My days as a lightweight rower (under 130 lbs) are FAR behind me, and I intend to spend this trip to Boston eating at the best and most interesting restaurants that I can afford. I started last night with cocktails at the Eastern Standard. The food is good, but nothing special. I go here for the exquisite cocktails. The bartender started me out with a "Red Hook", which is a variation on a Manhattan that uses rye whiskey instead of bourbon. The best part was the house-made maraschino cherry. To die for. This was followed by a small sample of a "Metamorphosis", which is the best use of Becherovka (a ubiquitous Czech liqueur) that I have found. Finally, that same bartender insisted that I sip on a "Vieux Carre" to accompany my New Orleans style beignets for dessert. Not bad at all.

Tonight I was no longer in a cocktail mood, so I headed to "EVOO", which stands for "Extra Virgin Olive Oil". Kind of a dumb name for a restaurant, and the place lacked atmosphere, but the food was excellent and creative, especially the Seared Gloucester Day Boat Sea Scallops with Corn Pudding, Tomatoes, Arugula and Vanilla - Nasturtium Chimichurri. For dessert I enjoyed a goat cheese panna cotta with spiced plums at the recommendation of the chef, who happened to be sitting next to me. It was delicate and beautiful, and the waiter left me with an entire list of restaurants that I need to decide between for my last night in Boston (tomorrow evening). I still miss Peter and Martin too, but Hey, when life hands you lemons...you might as well make some tasty lemonade.

Al's Good Food and BiPolar Waitress

After a week of Cambodian, Indian, Mexican, and Thai food, it was time for a good old all-American breakfast. And so we went to our favorite breakfast place, "Al's Good Food". Except for the spectacular fresh-squeezed orange juice, the food is not anything special (standard diner fare). But the atmosphere is unique, mostly because of one waitress, Bobby. She has blazing red hair and the stereotypical attitude that comes with red heads. She must have worked at Al's for at least 60 years. Probably more. Her sister works at the cash register.

The first time we visited she was downright rude to us. We swore we'd never go back, but somehow found ourselves there a few weeks later (It's a block from our house and there is never ever a wait). The second time she was all "honey" and "sweetie" and "doll" with us while taking our order. We have come to recognize the violently sliding scale of her moods. Martin attributes it to whether or not she has taken her meds on a given morning. Sometimes she will grouch and bark at us and pretend like she has never heard of "sunny side up" eggs. Other times she will bless Peter and give us both a free extra helping of eggs. It's restaurant roulette, and it has become our regular weekend entertainment. The bus boys, who all look like they just got out of prison, call her "ma" and run to do her bidding. This morning was special because "Al" himself graced our table with his presence, to flirt with Jana. It was a sight to see.

In the mean time, I have found a new way to get attention. I have cleverly removed my collar and hidden it somewhere in the house. It is driving Erika crazy because she can't find it anywhere. Heh heh.

Today is a special day because it is Papi George's Birthday! Happy Birthday Dad! He celebrated by eating an incredible lunch at a one-star restaurant. When Erika called to wish him happy birthday, he was taking a break and getting ready for the next meal (aperatifs). Such is life in the south of France...

Summer is Over

Well, things are finally getting back to normal in our little family. Normal, that is, relative to Erika and Peter being in France and Martin enjoying a second bachelorhood in San Francisco. Summer in San Francisco is officially over, which means that we have lovely weather here. I've enjoyed lazing around in the sun on the deck, and I've enjoyed lazing around on my new people-sized bed even more. I have to share it with our new house guest, Martin's mother Jana, but I don't mind. At least I will have someone to nap with during the day now that Erika is going back to work.

Yes, we are making our changes in true Kosina family style, which is to say everything all at once. Erika will celebrate her last thirty-somethingth birthday on Monday by returning to work at her old dream job. Motherhood was such an easy transition, it will be interesting to see how she balances her old responsibilities with her new role. Martin's mother Jana has generously volunteered to watch Peter while Erika and Martin are at work, which is a new role for her as well. Martin will stay in his current role of primary breadwinner and occasional pilot, and I have grudgingly accepted my new position of second fiddle to Mr. Peter. We have even started to interact a bit when I try to share his play mat. Erika is teaching him the word "gentle" so that I can keep both of my ears (Peter is at the grabby stage). And Peter - Peter will be 5 months old on Sunday! Behold:

That's a fancy French outfit you see there. French men are not afraid of color.

Guest Post from Erika: Scorpions and Bats and Cigales, Oh My!

Our hardy in-laws certainly endured their fair share of country creatures during their stay. One night they had a bat making circles over their bed. A day later, a baby scorpion appeared in their bath tub. Peter and I have been fighting off the mosquitos, who have discovered a new delicacy...American Baby Flesh. My mother is mounting her own personal war against the ants. But there is one bug that the French would never want to exterminate - the Cigale. It is a large, striped beetle that makes a distinctive noise. Smart little insect, it only sings when the weather is nice and warm. And so it defines summer for many locals, including my parents. People hang little "Cigale" sculptures on the outside of their houses and it is even is depicted on those quintessential southern French tablecloths. Now how many bugs can brag about that kind of cult adoration?

Personally I am more fond of a different kind of resident of Clermont L'Herault, also recently discovered. The dashing male octogenarian. There are some fabulous role models here for living well after 80. One man hangs out in the local cafe, acting as a sort of social mayor, greeting all who enter. He is always dressed to the nines, carries a beautifully carved wooden walking stick, and charmed me immediately by admiring Peter and calling him a little "poulet" (chicken).

My favorite by far though, is my parents' neighbor. We were recently invited to their house for "aperatifs" (supposedly before-dinner drinks and appetizers, but I seem to have enjoyed a full-blown meal every time I've been invited). He appeared wearing an ascot, and pulling it off *beautifully*. He then proceeded to give us a tour of the garden that he has been tending since 1970. It takes up 4 or 5 terraced plots. You cannot imagine the incredible bounty. Rumor has it he spends four hours every morning working in the garden - in the nude. He and his equally fabulous wife should be an inspiration to any married couple. They sing together as they work, and still hold hands after who knows how many years of being married.

Spending a month here has given me great insight into the French lifestyle and why my parents love it so much. So much, that not even a GRANDSON can convince them to leave! Last night we attended an art opening for one of their English friends. I met so many interesting expatriates from such a wide variety of backgrounds and livelihoods. This morning my father and I rode bicycles through the vineyards and several charming villages. There are a hundred different routes of rolling hills and pleasant scenery to choose from. We cooled off by jumping in the pool, and then visited the neighbors across the street for aperatifs, which consisted of no fewer than FOUR homemade tarts plus other snacks and THREE home made desserts. All created before lunch. The cafe society is lovely - if my parents are ever feeling a bit social, they just walk down to the cafe for a cup of coffee, and run into at least three different friends who all just seem to be wandering by. So there is all this intellectual, physical, and social stimulation, and I haven't even started to describe the food and wine. All this at a nice slow pace. Nothing is rushed. Everything is enjoyed. Why would they ever want to leave?