OK maybe not big pimpin’. But certainly guest bloggin’. My Facebook brag about going to the dump elicited an invitation from Stamford Talk to write about it in more detail.

I brought my youngest there yesterday for the first time. And that’s a story for another day.

Talk is a great blogging friend. In fact I think she was my first commenter.  I hope you’ll stop by her place and say hello.

I cooked Italian for my Irish father on St. Patty’s Day

Escarole and Beans the Patty way

Inspired by Giada Whosis and Mark Bittman

• Chicken broth. Homemade.  End of discussion.
• 2 or 3 minced garlic cloves
• olive oil
• Small dried white beans, soaked overnight and cooked. No canned. End of discussion.
• A couple of heads of escarole, rinsed well and roughly chopped
• Salt and pepper
• Small piece of a parmesan cheese rind
• Parmesan cheese for topping

Cook the garlic in olive oil in a soup pot over medium heat for a few minutes. Add the escarole and cook until it’s wilted. Add chicken broth, cheese rind and beans. Heat thoroughly. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Serve topped with parmesan and maybe a little olive oil. We also had spicy Italian sausage which were a perfect complement.

I had never made this before. It was a fresh and quite tasty dinner.

Although it was green, serving Italian-style food on what my father refers to as a high holy day seemed a little wrong. Although he did proclaim it the best escarole and beans he’s ever had.

And somewhere, my half Irish, half Italian mother is smiling.

I’m trying awfully hard not to take the turkey vultures wintering in my yard as portents of doom. I suppose it’s not as bad as having the four horsemen show up in my driveway, but still. Vultures? Circling my house? It could be a little unnerving. Except, well, they’re turkey vultures.

It’s not the first time we’ve had unusual feathered critters nearby. A few years back, a pair of guinea hens broke out of the nearby nature center and lived in our neighbor’s yard, much to the complete annoyance of our dearly departed dalmatian. Oh how he yelled at those birds. And yes, they yelled back. Good times.

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I promise, there will be a real post worth reading soon.

That is, if you’re into pictures of turkey vultures.

Til then, take a listen to this gorgeous song. Silversun Pickups will soon release a new album, which I have no doubt will join their first album and EP on my list of favorites. I love their song Kissing Families, and this  cover by Sarah Luv of Devics (another band worth listening to) gave me serious chills.

zero 7 performs somersault on jimmy kimmel

the words aren’t mine, but i do love the sentiment.

and i sure do love the man they bring to mind.

You’re the prince to my ballerina
You feed other people’s parking meters
You encourage the eating of ice cream
You would somersault in sand with me

You talk to loners, you ask how’s your week
You give love to all and give love to me
You’re obsessed with hiding the sticks and stones
When I fear the unknown
You feel like home, you feel like home

You put my feet back on the ground
Did you know you brought me around
You were sweet, and you were sound
You saved me

You’re the warmth in my summer breeze
You’re the ivory to my ebony keys
You would share your last jelly bean
You would somersault in sand with me

You put my feet back on the ground
Did you know you brought me around
You were sweet and you were sound
You saved me

You put my feet back on the ground
Did you know you brought me around
You were sweet and you were sound
See I had shrunk yet still you wore me around
And ’round and ’round

and yes, that’s sia singing. from, you know, before she was SIA.

(also known as filler while thoughts percolate)

There are few things that amuse me more than assigning random tags to my posts. Accordingly, it comes as no surprise that the following search terms have all yielded at least one visit to the wingdangdoo over the past six months:

• my little midget redhead part 2 (what concerns me the most is the implication of not only a part 1 but possibly parts 3 and 4. Well, actually, I take it back. What really concerns me is the likelihood that my little midget redhead is porn.)
• fishing symbol fish with hook dangling (oh noes!)
• the falcon cannot hear the falconer (I’m sorry. You came here looking for poetry, and all you got was a trip to the AMNH with a surly 42 year old) (also, Yeats? I’m sorry. You can stop spinning in your grave now.)
• what did the 4th circle of hell look like? (In all honesty? This search term? Leading to the wingdangdoo? I’m just… honored.)
• girlfriend sexy (I’m bringing sexy back, yo.)
• stamford board of education meeting for my son (boy have you come to the right place! Pull up a chair and let’s have a chat!)
• firebush (hee! cracks me up every time.)
• brown hair with chunky red highlights (Listen. This is a repeat search term. Yes you will find a relevant post about my adventures with hair color, but proceed at your own risk. You’ve been warned. )

Did you know yesterday was stop lurking because you’re freaking me out day?

No, wait, it was called something else. National delurk day? Take lurch to lunch day? Hey you ole lunk c’mere and give me a hug day?

No?

Anyway, the idea is for people who typically don’t comment to stop that and say something.  In fact I’ll make a deal with you: go ahead and leave a comment, and I won’t go all Harriet the Spy and google your IP address*.

Deal?

* a hollow threat at best. There isn’t a whole lot google is going to tell me about you based on your IP address.  Still, I’d love to hear from you and maybe get an idea about why you read the wingdangdoo.

It happened.

I had to quickly run into school this morning when I dropped off the boys. The doodle girl set off the car alarm while I was talking to the principal and trying to act like a grownup, but that’s a whole ‘nother story.

My oldest stopped to say goodbye to me before we entered the building and then scurried ahead, disappearing through the double doors and down the hall without me.

Because he didn’t want his friends to see him kissing his mom.

I thought about being upset was devastated while I silently cheered on my boy, finding his way through the wilds of third grade.

Later, I consoled myself with this little piece of sweetness that came home in his folder earlier in the week. Family photos, the cover said. This was the last page:

more momful pride after the jump

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enough with the serious already.

Nothin’, that is, other than these ridiculously adorable pictures of Talullah and Oscar, hanging out on my son’s bed when they thought no one was around to catch them in the act.

And no, I’m not at all above asking Talullah if she’s a bad, bad girl to get her to tilt her head like so.