{ The best-ever (and easiest) banana bread, made in bulk for the many weekend guests we've been having lately … }
{ … The Christmas Music Box (with moving train and lights) that I brought back from Maine, because apparently I have turned into an 80-year-old woman who cannot resist an adorable seasonal knickknack … }
I've been visiting Ogunquit, Maine pretty much every summer since I was four years old, so there was no way we were moving without one last trip up north (as a bonus, I had a credit at the hotel I had booked - and then had to cancel - for a vacation over the summer).
October in Maine - or anywhere in New England - is obviously beautiful, but the benefits of visiting during this time of year go beyond the leaves. Sure, it might be a little chilly…but the cooler temperatures mean that hotels that usually run $400+ a night are more in the $100 range, that you can get a lobster roll without waiting on line for an hour, and that the beaches are still gorgeous…but completely empty, perfect for seagull-chasing and such.
We have only a little over half a year left as residents of the East Coast, so Kendrick and I have made a decision: it's choose-your-adventure time.
The thing is, as (relatively) new parents you spend a lot of time saying "Oooh, that sounds fun!" and then not doing whatever it is, because you can't find a babysitter/it's too hard to get out/you're exhausted (and once your kids are finally in bed you would really rather lay on your couch and stare at the television than do anything else). It's very easy to put stuff off until later.
Except we don't have a ton of "later" ahead of us, so it's time to start with the yes-ing.
We're doing it. All of it.
I've always had this very romanticized idea about fragrance - that you should have "your" scent, one that people associate with you and you alone, and ideally one so totally obscure and unique that when asked "What are you wearing?" your response is something along the lines of "oh, just an essential oil hand-crafted by an artisan selling his wares off the coast of Malta; it was a gift from my great-great-aunt who traveled through Europe with a rogue band of gypsies, and I've worn it ever since I was two years old." Or something.
Anyway, what I've actually worn for years is Bond No. 9's Nuit de Noho, which semi-fulfills my obscurity requirement, as not that many people outside of New York (where Bond No. 9 is fairly well-known, being as each of their scents is named after a part of the greater New York City area: Shelter Island, Hamptons, Union Square, et cetera) have heard of it. But lately I've been wanting something lighter, fresher. Maybe a little floral. Slightly sexy would be nice.
Before my daughter was born, I had a mental blip that made me think that a baby born in mid-August would require an enormous wardrobe of gauzy little sundresses and gingham jumpers and such, forgetting that oh right: babies don't tend to take a ton of trips to the seashore when they are a week old. And then it was fall, and too cold for gauzy little sundresses and gingham jumpers, and Gap doesn't let you return items that are more than 60 days old for the original purchase price and et cetera et cetera sigh. At least I have a pair of tiny silver huarache sandals for her to wear in February, when they will finally fit her (brain freeze, what can I say?).
So anyway, I went shopping for autumnal infant clothing yesterday. Which is basically the most fun thing in the world, especially when you stumble upon things like leopard jeans and little sweatshirts with heart pockets (if you have a little girl - or a little boy with a penchant for heart pockets - I insist that you buy that sweatshirt up there; it is so cute).
We do need to talk about that tulle overall thing for a moment. I didn't actually buy it not because it is not the platonic ideal of baby girl clothing (because it is), but rather because I am so excited about it that I need to wait until Goldie is just a tiny bit bigger and will be able to wear it more. Like every day maybe.
