Happy Birthday, Kitty! Although she was likely the leader of the mid-80’s conspirators that encouraged my young self to consume a poisonous mushroom, I have since forgiven my big sister and love her very much. Kitty is wonderful, wild, adventurous. She’s stuck by my crazy self through it all: meek childhood days and cross-country road trips in the family station wagon, to navigating the Alaskan wilderness ourselves (I typically insisted we go the wrong way) or conquering 17,000 feet in the Himalayas while I ruined the landscape with altitude sickness—she was there and I am very glad. I would not be alive today, nor would I be who I am without her. Love, wishes, she’s the best.


Jeff was with us in London for 48 short hours a couple weeks ago. We hopped a last minute train at Waterloo that Saturday and headed to “the teeth in the gums of the earth” as our automated tour described it—Stonehenge. A complete mystery, these gems are from 3000 BC. They really are still asking who, how, why—mostly why, but definitely how and who. The countryside is quite lovely, too—green and sheep and prehistoric barrows abound. Albeit cold, windy and raining (much like the previous time I’d been to Stonehenge in 2001) it’s perfect for a half-day adventure.

My mom and her husband Phil came to visit for their very first trip across the pond, ever— a wee bit exciting. It was an action-packed ten days with rainstorms and a few sunny spots, gin drinks and other British delectables, lots of walking and even a train trip to Paris—those pics to come. L to R: custard tart at St. John’s, London cup (we went twice for this) at Mishkin’s, Big Ben, the rose garden at Hyde Park, pies plus fish & chips at Golden Union, Kensington Palace, Wellington Arch, telephone box, and a poppy/daisy field at St. James’s Park. Whew!

My father moved through theys of we, 
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)
e.e. cummings, ‘my father moved through dooms of love’

Wishing the world of pops and grandpops a lovely fathers’ day—one filled with games of horseshoes, grilled corn-on-the-cob, and poppa bear hugs. Hoping—whether near yours or not so much—you have a heart full of sweet memories. And remembering fondly my own dad, who I miss so very much. /M

Wishing all grandmothers, mothers, and motherly-like friends (especially ours, across the pond) a very happy day today—thank you for your mama bear hugs. And for those no longer with us, we remember you dearly. Happy Mothers’ Day with love. Above: Glamour shots of our young mothers / 2-year old M with mom / 4-year old K with mom & sister

Today my baby brother is 26! We all used to be taller than he. Here are some pics—through the years—I dug out of a family album. Top left was 21 years ago, I can tell by how many front teeth he was missing. Next to it is a comparison to present day. I think he likes the gift I gave him today—a set of quoits! Happy Birthday, bruder Benny! And tomorrow, to Julianne and Grant, too. XO

When my siblings and I were little, we watched a woman demonstrate making Pysanka—Ukrainian Easter eggs. This method uses ornate bees wax applications to resist layers of dye. Many years and much interpretation later, egg dyeing is something we still look forward to each Easter. All together at our Mum’s this year, Saturday was an all-day dyeing (and baking and cooking) event, and we spent all of Easter ogling the fancy eggs. That, and eating. (Click image to zoom.)

Quick how-to: Hard boil or blow out your eggs, stick a pin in the eraser of a pencil for drawing, keep the bees wax on low on the stove, make your designs, dip egg in dye, repeat. Once the final dye dip is dry, light a candle and melt the wax with the flame, wiping off each melted area with a paper towel.