Each second we live is a new and unique moment of the universe, a moment that will never be again. And what do we teach our children? We teach them that two and two make four, and that Paris is the capital of France. When will we also teach them what they are?

We should say to each of them: Do you know what you are? You are a marvel. You are unique. In all the years that have passed, there has never been another child like you. Your legs, your arms, your clever fingers, the way you move.

You may become a Shakespeare, a Michelangelo, a Beethoven. You have the capacity for anything. Yes, you are a marvel. And when you grow up, can you then harm another who is, like you, a marvel?

You must work, we must all work, to make the world worthy of its children.

—Pablo Casals
Spanish Cellist

Breakfast bread puddings. At least, that’s what Phil’s taken to calling them because he’s wholeheartedly against my calling it “French Toast Casserole.” Casserole, quite simply, is an ugly middle-America word that conjures up images of upturned gelatinous soups, chicken legs, and overcooked egg noodles. Basically cellulite but with more structure. “Besides, French toast is crunchy on the outside.” Yes, it’s pan-fried in oil, and you need a plateful of paper towels at the ready. My “Breakfast Pudding Bake” deserves no towels, no plates at the ready. I can bake a tray of it on the weekend, serve some, then divvy up portions for the rest of the week-freezing two servings at a time. Also, it’s not all about the kids. It’s perfect to have at the ready for when guests pop in. Not that I ever have unexpected guests, but I like to think that I live in a kitchen that can accommodate extraordinary circumstances, from hurricanes to hangovers. Wrapped in foil, from freezer to toaster oven, in five miles minutes, they have a puffy, eggy, soft breakfast pudding worthy of childhood comfort and memories. Sometimes you make a meal and you just know ”This is what they’ll remember when they’re older.” Hell, it’s what I’ll remember when I’m older.

MAKEUP
Makeup brushes, what each one is used for, makeup tutorials, creative Mac shadow combinations, new fall nail polish colors: Nars Galion, Chanel Paradoxal, and Deborah Lippman Fashion (near dupe: Essie Brooch The Subject). I am wholly engaged with reading up on makeup dupes. There are sites out there that will actually tell you the duplicate Wet an Wild color for a Mac color. That kind of thing. Now, I’m obsessed with having every single non neon color Mac makes. Just to have it, if I should need it, after watching some makeup tutorial on YouTube that will give me the perfect Kardashian eye.

PERFUME
I’ve been complimented on my latest perfume purchase exactly five times in the past two days. Sharing the name of this perfume is like revealing that I watch The Bachelor. But, I do. So, here it is. The perfume I love to love and hate and love: Boyfriend by Kate Walsh. Go ahead, hate me. I’m used to it.

DINNERS
Do ahead Dinners. “Dream Dinners” and freeze ahead meals, wanting to have dinner party meals in moments. I’m obsessed with Dore Greenspan’s At My French Table, and I can’t understand how she doesn’t weigh more than the Arc D’ Triumph. Two dishes I’m making this week, “Pumpkin stuffed with everything Good” and ‘Chicken, apples, and cream a la Normande.”

STICKY RICE
Another obsession of mine: my coconut sticky rice. It is insane. My mother made us rice pudding with “the wooden spoon.” I make this instead. You need the right rice and methods, timing, and planning, soaking rice in a bowl overnight

Another obsession: PHO. Where in South Florida does a girl get her hands on some authentic Pho?

Today I’m making a “Zero points” Watchers Points Plus soup with Chinese cabbage, bok choy, bean sprouts, water chestnuts, bamboo shoots, cilantro and lime. Add a protein on top, from egg to nuts to chicken or beef, long slippery noodles for the kids.

This week, I also baked a Derby Pie. Because I want to be Southern like that.

I want to look up Nora Ephron plays. There’s a play she said she wrote but that wasn’t published.
I want to read it. Speaking of my imaginary best friend—this morning we spoke about Teflon and anti-egg white omelets. I love her more and more each time we talk. Thankfully she feels the same way, so there’s no awkward friendship chase. What can I say? Nora Ephron and I are total besties, especially considering how much we both despise that word.

I am obsessed with crustless pumpkin pie. I just devoured the center, the entire filling, using only my finger. Right now I’m staring at the remaining pie shell wondering if I should bake something new into it, call it “Double Unsanitary Pie.” I bet I could make a fast filling with my vita-mix.

I have to get over these cedar fever allergies I picked up when I was back in Austin. It’s strange, although I’m here in Florida now, this week, today, I still feel like I’m in Austin, still think when I get in my car, I can jet over to Central Market, that I can still call friends at the very last minute with a text inviting them to meet me for drinks and a movie in fifteen minutes at Alamo Drafthouse.

What I miss most about Austin are the people. They’re all so different, unique, easy. If however, I grew up in Texas, I’d probably prefer different, wouldn’t much mind living in Boca Raton, where people dress to be seen. I dress to keep my food down. The homogeneousness is killing me… almost in a good way though, because now I’m motivated to get back to work.

For a short while, calories and a frozen treat weren’t my only focus. I was there for the ride. The drive itself is an exercise in imagination. It’s the kind of road that feeds dreams. It was a balm for our overtired bodies and underworked minds. It’s not that there’s a canopy of trees, no; there’s a tunnel of Australian pines and Cuban laurels that stretch long enough for you to stop and think, “Why do the trees know to curve toward each other like that?”

In the back of my grandfather’s car, Lea and I would call dibs on the mansions. “That one’s mine!” Much the way we did with everything, though with years we twisted dibs into damnation. Of the flatulent Boss Hogg doppelganger, “There’s your boyfriend.”

“Too bad your boyfriend is that guy,” she’d say, cursing me with a man whom, upon first sight, made me think of wild boar.

At random moments, usually from the back seat of a car, we’d play our boyfriend and house game, cursing each other with a series of objectionable suitors and hardscrabble shacks. For laughs, to instigate, but mostly to “make the food come”—an expression blanketed over all situations involving waiting (a visit to the bathroom or a look in a fish tank often does the trick).

When afflicted with a future beau who tried—and missed—to power snot out his window, Lea responded, “At least he’s got good taste.” And I would wet myself. Even years later, today I found myself shaking my head then abruptly breaking into laughter. Because my sister loves to eat her boogies. “Nature’s Candy.”

I love that a road can bring you that far back.

My sister Lea: Masturbating after slicing jalapeños is not a good idea. Me: Hey, at least you know where it is now. ~

Today was preschool orientation. When all was said and done—I feel like I need a private, secretive blog, so I can post honestly about parents/ kids/ the whole lot of ‘em without breaking laws—I asked Lucas and Abigail to tell me their favorite parts of their first (half) day of school. Lucas liked making a new friend named Hank. Abigail’s answer was a bit more in the bread box.

“My favorite part of school was when we got to eat bread.”

Awesome.

My Guy

This list is an extension of an earlier post, where I promised to post such a list. So, here it is, my TOTALLY WORTH IT LIST (aka a list of things I’m glad I bought before marriage and babies, when in some cases spending this much would be out of the question… or at the very least a guilt-ridden hide-the-bags fest).

Crate & Barrel Steamer Bar

KitchenAid Mixer
My Steamer Bar
Schweitzer Linens
Every last Hermes Scarf
My cropped white Hudson Jeans
My AG Jeans in “The Fringe” style
My elliptical machine
West Elm Bookshelf
Nikon Lenses
Wusthof Knives
All-Clad Stainless
Really good blowdryer
Fleur de the Rose Bulgare perfume by Creed
Burberry Poncho
An assortment of Purple Label cableknit cashmeres
Celine Black Bag
Intermix black trench coat
Anya Hindmarch Pony Bag
Takashamaya Robe
Black Catherine Malandrino dress
My really good laptop bag that doubles as a… really good bag, period.
RLX Polo sport jacket that makes me feel all mission possible
TJMaxx Special: Ralph Lauren heavy crystal plaid tumblers & barware

Look around your life. What do you STILL get a thrill from having? Orgasms, for the most part, are free, so they don’t count.

Recent purchases I can’t imagine won’t make the list years from now:

Hands down, my holy-shite this is awesome VITAMIX (love love love for velvet soup textures, phenomenal cocktails with that same texture as frozen margarita machines, and smoothies, ice cream, chopped onions!)
Diamond Earrings
The softest lambskin black bag ever
A Gorban painting
My Breville Oven (3 people have slept at my house, left, and ran out to buy one)
And a shitpile of cookbooks
Really good baking pans (Chicago Metallic)
Olio Santo (my favorite olive oil)
Silouette Machine
Much of my MJ Trimming Ribbon collection

NOT WORTH IT
Creams. Any of them. I’d like to be convinced otherwise
La Perla
Leather pants from Scoop
Burberry Coat
The Blahniks, any of them
Any knockoff ever
Wow, not a single pair of shoes, not even my favs

I think it’s surprising what we think will bring us happiness and what actually does. People say that objects don’t give us happiness that lasts, and I’d agree, for the most part. But I will say that some things, actual things, do make us smile daily, leave us feeling confident, pretty, taken care of. And if you can find those things, if they still make you feel, years later, they’re worth keeping. It’s how I feel, most, about my cookbooks and cooking equipment. They are my favorite things.