The Sandpit from Sam O'Hare on Vimeo.

This video, at first, appears to be using a miniature set, but, then, you see that it’s real. Very cool. (via @KBAndersen)

This was the view outside our front door yesterday morning. Now there’s lots more of the white stuff!

I learned most of my cooking skills under the tutelage of my mother. On special occasions, when she had a lot of cooking to do, she’d hand me a recipe card and put me to work. We’d work alongside one another, and I’d occasionally ask her what was meant by words like “sift” or “fold.” Now, making those foods reminds me of her, and the time we spent together.

In various holiday seasons, we made sugar cookies with decorative frosting, chocolate candies, and toffee. Many of these delicacies were meant to give away as gifts. One of my favorites was the toffee, so this weekend I endeavored to make some myself. I couldn’t find her recipe, so I searched online and found one called, modestly, “Best Toffee Ever - Super Easy.” I based my cooking on that recipe, but what follows is my adaptation.

Ingredients

2 cups (4 sticks) butter

2 cups sugar

1/4 teaspoon salt

5 Hershey’s chocolate bars

1 cup finely chopped roasted almonds

Directions

In a large saucepan (I used non-stick), combine the butter, sugar and salt. Cook over medium heat, stirring until the butter is melted — then stop stirring. Allow to come to a boil, and cook until the mixture becomes a dark caramel color, and the temperature has reached 285 degrees F.

While the toffee is cooking, cover a large baking sheet with aluminum foil. Break the chocolate bars into small pieces. As soon as the toffee reaches the proper temperature, pour it out onto the prepared baking sheet and spread it with a spatula. Sprinkle the chocolate over the top, and let it set for a minute or two to soften. Once it is melted, spread the chocolate into a thin even layer. Sprinkle the nuts over the chocolate, and press in slightly.

Place the toffee in the refrigerator to chill until set. Break into pieces.

This weekend, we strolled down to the end of our block with Callum and Rory and watched the world stream by. It was the 40th running of the New York City Marathon, and 4th avenue, here in Brooklyn, was one of the main thoroughfares through our borough. As hordes of participants made their way past — whether on wheelchairs or running spiritedly — I shouted and cheered. “Go, France!” I encouraged the runners wearing t-shirts proclaiming their French origins. “Go, Australia!,” I cheered at others. “Go, Italia! Go, Japan! Go, USA! Go, Finland! Go, Denmark!” I have to admit I shouted just a little bit louder in encouragement of people from places I’d been or have a special fondness for. From Denmark, where I spent 5 months as an exchange student. From Texas, where I am from. From Scotland, from which my husband hails.

At one point, early in the cheering, I crouched down next to our 4-year-old, Callum, and explained, “These people came from all around the world to run in this race.” He seemed to understand.

One benefit of living in this very international city is that different cultures, styles and viewpoints are never far away, even when they’re not running by at the end of the block. Daddy is from Scotland. Our neighbor’s Daddy is from Argentina. Our babysitter is from Mexico. We like to think that, by exposing our children to these different influences, they come to realize that there’s a great big world out there beyond our Brooklyn brownstones. And someday, we hope, they’ll get to experience a lot of it themselves.

Knowing about the vastness of the world will, we hope, help them realize that humans living in one place aren’t all that different from those in another. It will help them understand that we all need band together when it comes to global issues like pollution and climate change. And we hope it will help them develop an appreciation for the little cultural gifts contributed by people all over the world — the flavors of pad thai, the joyful exuberance of playing the maracas, and the incredible softness of a scarf made of Chinese cashmere spun in Scotland and knitted in America.

I’ve written this entry as a part of the Tea Collection’s Little Citizens of the World blog contest. They make gorgeous children’s clothes, and I’d love to win a gift certificate. But that doesn’t make my sentiments any less sincere.

Just a link (via Justinsomnia) to a very sobering set of pictures:

http://www.chrisjordan.com/current_set2.php?id=11

This afternoon, I found myself climbing flights and flights of stairs in a subway station, struggling up from the underground “R” line to the above-ground “F” line. Our ride included the highest station in the NYC Subway system, so it’s not surprising so many stairs were involved. It probably wouldn’t have been so strenuous but for the 24-pound child in one arm, the stroller and essentials bag in the other, and the 50-pound 4-year-old ambling along next to me. Slowly but surely, as I walked, Rory would begin slipping down until he was below my hip, and I was forced to stop and switch him from one arm to another, alternating with the umbrella stroller and bag. Reaching the platform meant a momentary respite, until it was time to take the whole parade onto the train. Such was my experience of being a mother of young children today.

I took the day off from work today not to haul kids up stairs, but for a very special reason. Today was Callum’s first day of pre-kindergarten. Unlike in many other school systems, in NYC there’s free, public, “universal”* pre-kindergarten for 4-year-olds, so the school he will attend this year could be the same one he attends until middle school. Essentially, Callum began an educational journey that won’t end until he graduates from high school at 18, or, hopefully, college. It’s a momentous thing.

We’re handing him over to the community, and he’ll spend as much time there, from now on, as he will at home (at least waking hours), on weekdays. He’ll have good teachers (this year’s seems like a good one!), and probably some mediocre ones. He’ll experience bullying and taunting; he’ll make close friendships; he’ll be challenged; he’ll be bored. We’ll do everything we can to smooth his path, but it’s not all up to us now. In not too many years, the opinions of his peers will outweigh those of his parents. The influence of the rest of the world will continue to grow.

It’s been said before that parenting is a continuous process of letting go, and I agree completely. The scenario I described above — in which Callum and Rory were entirely dependent on me to guide them through tunnels and up stairs, even hefting one of them — is today’s reality, but, with age, with our teaching, and with school, I won’t be needed in quite the same way for too much longer. I’m sad, and I’m happy. Mostly, I just want to acknowledge this important rite of passage. Happy first day of school, Callum. We love you always!

(* I put universal in quotes because it’s theoretically available to all, but, in practice, there are fewer spots than applicants.)

Two Weeks - Grizzly Bear from Gabe Askew on Vimeo.

Dooce turned me on to this amazing fan video of a song called Two Weeks by Grizzly Bear. Wow. Just Wow.

I’ve been a fan of Douglas Rushkoff for quite some time (and I consider him a friend). Am eager to check out his new book, Life Inc.
Following is a video of his recent appearance on the Colbert Report: