ask me if i'm supposed to be writing harlem renaissance curriculum right now.
thank you ace, for braving the skies to come visit us all the way from vermont, and thank you, vermont, for sharing him with us. it's so nice to have settled into our routine of alternating visits so that we can see each other at least twice a year. you are one of my favorite people ever, and are such a great friend to our family as well. and clearly adah adores you immensely because you're the only one she'll let comb her hair.
our visit began with a trip to the beach to fill our lungs with good air. by the time we got through the tillamook forest and ate ice cream for dinner, it was pretty late and almost past adah's 6:30 bedtime already. we pulled into the driveway of the cabin (right across the street from the beach) and without thinking i announced that it was time to go inside, eat a salad, and get ready for bed. adah let out a furious wail which translated into, "you made me sit still for 2 hours and you're not even going to let me play on the beach? what the fuck kind of people are you?" we quickly realized this was an absolutely reasonable request, so off we went to the beach, running around past bedtime, having sand-throwing contests and looking in awe at the transcendent sky. fresh air makes little bugs and parents sleep well.
the next day was filled with lots of lounging around in the morning, fresh smoked salmon picnics, ms. pac man tournaments at a coastal laundromat, afternoon tea, and some tidepooling in the late afternoon. this, of course, was filled with developmentally inappropriate educational moments, such as in-depth explanations of high and low tides and some other miscellaneous information about geologic processes that affect coastal zones. here are adah's eyes glazing over from too much information, brought to her by uncle science:
we saw a trillion mollusks, superhero crabs that grip onto rocks for their life, but no star fish. when you ask adah what she saw that day, she answers in the negative: "we didn't see any starfish." there were more educational moments along the way, but she was primarily interested in rolling over rocks to seek hiding crabs, and just throwing rocks in the water. understandable. 
we still had a few days left in portland before ace had to leave, so we filled those days with leisure and lots of good food. we spent one whole day wearing alien helmets and riding bikes in the rain to the library and then to various eating and drinking establishments. croissants led to tacquerias which led to teahouses, which led back home for an elaborately cooked meal that i can't specifically recall right now, you know, because it's late for me and i have to plan a unit for tomorrow. but if you ask anne what ace and i did over our time together, she says, "they ate. laughed and ate, and i benefited from delicious everything."so thank you, friend, for the camaraderie, the reminiscent william steig books, the focused questions, the sweet way you are with our kid, for putting up with me in the kitchen, and for rescuing all the photos i lost, and soothing the tantrum afterwards with your confidence and grace. just to name a few things. emoticon.
i thought i'd post a quick recap of bug's birthday celebration before the entire month of march passes. on most days i don't feel like i get a moment to myself until after she goes to bed, and by that time, i'm ready to catch up on the day's reading, have some uninterrupted present time with anne, or start some insane and spontaneous cooking project. i had another mother-of-the-year episode the other day in which, as i was attempting to do something simple for myself (probably something like eating, going to the bathroom, or reading something that would not be considered children's literature) i yelled, "I NEED TO HAVE ONE OF MY OWN NEEDS MET BEFORE SEVEN O'CLOCK!" which prompted note to self: must implement at least 15 minutes of quiet time each afternoon without this seeming punitive.
