handy man, lucky lady

My husband loves to tinker. He thrives on turning everyday household objects into useful art. I love the way he solves problems and adds a little spark to my day at the same time. This year, for my birthday, he made me this:

Pretty great, huh? I'm probably the only person for 100 square miles who's thrilled to receive a spice rack for her birthday. We found the busted old guitar on the side of the road a few years ago.

For my birthday last year, he searched far and wide for a wall-mounted jewelry box but couldn't find a good one, so he made one up using a woven box, an upturned silverware organizer, and a strong magnet. So clever and so useful.

This Christmas, he bought a big, colorful world map and hung it on the wall behind our clear shower curtain, so I can ponder the capital of Djibouti while scrubbing mine.

And, lest I forget, this Christmas he also gave me a digital SLR camera so that I can record and share all of this! You can't see it, but I'm glowing.

And many more. . .

it's my dear friend trupeach's birthday today, so i'd like to celebrate just a few of the ways she brightens my life:

1. long talks on porches, screened or otherwise, late into the night.

2. her passion for charades
3. sharing her favorite tomato sauce recipe
4. impromptu dance parties in her living room
5. her way with a camera

(photo from purple bottle)

6. her love for fine dining

7. her gift for bringing magic to the mundane

have a very happy birthday!!

A perfect afternoon

Perhaps it was the unseasonably warm weather, or the giant "blondie" tooth my dad's diver friend had recently given me, but something prompted J. to declare that THIS would be the Friday we finally went hunting for sharks' teeth. I had heard about the spot for years: a creek behind the fields where my husband played club soccer where hundreds of sharks' teeth had been deposited long ago when the ocean came up that far (some 20 miles inland).

With a couple of mouth-watering Caprese sandwiches from Ted's Butcherblock in tow, we headed up country and parked by the fields. J. recalled the trials and triumphs of yore as we sat on the bleachers and tore into our picnic. The trees were at their peak color, the sun was warm and the breeze was cool as we rolled up our jeans, picked a spot by the creekbank and waded in to our ankles. Hunting for sharks' teeth in this environment, as I soon found out, involves squatting in the chilly water and scooping up handfuls of mud and rocks, then sifting through them carefully with an eye out for the telltale glint and angled edges. Once found (oh happy day!), we put each tooth in our Ziploc baggie with the corner cut off and then returned to squatting, digging and sifting.

All in all, J. found 14 and I found 16. Quite the haul considering he wasn't too sure those teeth would still be there after fourteen years. We drove home soggy but satisfied, then washed up and headed out for a fine French dinner before meeting our friends for drinks. Sigh.