Simon made his own lunch today

My seven-year-old (pictured above) made his own lunch today (not pictured above). I cannot get over this fact. Which fact? The one in which he can—beyond brushing his teeth, getting himself dressed, and tying his shoes—be a bit independent. He probably doesn't need me any more...

And, the lunch seemed to be comparable to those I make for him—a little bit healthy, a little bit fun. His menu: salami and cheese sandwich, Cheetos, apple juice, and a banana. Simon informed me that if you cut a banana in half, the cut end gets gross and messes up the inside of his lunch box. So, for that matter, he would be eating a whole banana. Still didn't stop him from putting the whole banana in a plastic bag. Some day he'll realize that the banana peel is a natural wrapper, but until then I'm happy he can help out in the morning.

Friday night date night (with friends)

As a rule, John and I rarely go out on Friday night. For the most part all we ever want to do after a long work week is collapse in a heap on the sofa and watch TV—House and Numbers. We love our ritual, and we like staying up late and sleeping in on Saturday morning while the kids gorge themselves on TV. But this past Friday night (4/20), we had an invitation from our friends Dave and Sarah to help celebrate their birthdays (they're married, with birthdays on April 18th and 20th, respectively).

John and I met Dave and Sarah and Colin and Helena for cocktails at The Monte Carlo, which was our stomping grounds throughout our 20s. The Monte Carlo has this fantastic mirror-backed bar and a dining room patina-ed with timelessness. The bartenders mix cocktails big and strong, which is exactly how I like them. The restaurant has added a large patio since we've stopped hanging out there regularly. And, this Friday evening was absolutely gorgeous so we took advantage of the lovely, as-of-yet bug-free evening and sat outside.

After drinks, we headed to Saffron for dinner. Saffron is located in the Warehouse District, across the street from 112 Eatery, in one of those great spaces with sturdy columns and high ceilings, made intimate with walls painted dark red and saffron. The menu features upscale Mediterranean food, leaning heavily toward the spice combinations (saffron, cumin, coriander, and sumac) and food stuffs (merguez, kibbeh, lamb, chickpeas, couscous) of Morocco.

We started by sharing some mezzes (eastern Mediterranean small plates, like tapas) that included a house-made, spicy lamb merguez with red pepper confit, braised beef ravioli with eggplant and harissa, a grilled leek and sheep's feta tart, tuna and veal carpaccio with preserved lemons, chilled rare tuna with tabbouleh, and scallops with fried clams and saffron.

All the guys had the beef strip loin served with a smoked potato gratin. Sarah had the salmon and clam tagine with potatoes—the salmon was silky and rich. I had a braised lamb shoulder, melting and unctuous, served on a bed of stewed chickpeas that, to my mind, redefined the potential of dried legumes. We drank a passable chianti (Castillo Chianti Reserva '01). Organized by characteristics (e.g., semi-dry, medium bodied, lush), it's an easy, but not great, list to navigate. We wrapped up the meal by sharing a few desserts—a chocolate ganache cake, a banana tart, and a saffron rice pudding that nobody liked (and, I've noticed, is no longer on the menu).

In all, it was a fun evening out with friends. Lots of laughs and very good food. I can't wait to eat at Saffron again as there were other things on the menu that I'd like to try, such as the salmon and clams or the sumac-rubbed chicken, as well as other mezzes, such as the lamb brains. The house lavash and hummus that appeared from the kitchen as an amuse-bouche were also noteworthy.

Go eat there now!

Blasts from the past

I have been thinking about old friends this week, something I do from time to time. But, a few friends in particular have dominated my thoughts as I have had some casual encounters with them. We may have exchanged a few words or chatted for a while. The connections are sustaining, with sparking memories of time or place and reminding me why I enjoyed each person's company. And, in some cases, leading my thoughts to mutual friends. I'm pretty lousy at staying in touch with people, and I wish I were better at it. Starting a friendship takes a lot of energy, and unless maintenance is mutual, it's often easier to release friends when our paths diverge. Bittersweet in many ways.

A few weeks ago, I ran into Jeanne Z. at Little Szechuan a few weeks ago. We chatted only for a moment, but I did get to meet her husband and hear that Jeanne had recently seen Jessica. I worked with Jeanne and Jessica at Odegard Books. Jeanne and I worked the Wednesday evening shift with Seth J. (I wonder whatever happened to Seth?), then we'd meet Jessica for post-work drinks at Sweeney's. Sometimes the three of us would go dancing on Thursdays—Funk Night—at First Avenue. I have no idea what Jeanne is doing, not that it matters much. It made me happy to see her.

Yesterday, I ran into Kay Y., who lived across the hall from me first year at college . She was to have been my sophomore roommate, but during summer break she transferred to a neighboring school. We saw each other occasionally throughout our remaining college years, and I had the pleasure of working with her twin sister at a crappy part-time job. Kay looked great—like a 40-year-old version of her college self. Seeing her reminded me of other college friends that I would like to see or check in with —Liz F., Jane M., and Katie R. to name just a few. I wonder whatever happened to Colette C.?

Also yesterday I received an e-mail from Michele, who forwarded a message from childhood friend John H. He had attached photos of his young son and daughter, both of whom are the spitting image of him. It's so amazing to see the similarities and realize how powerful a gene pool can be. I'd really like to give a him shout-out. Naturally, seeing him makes me think of the entire old neighborhood—Ann D. and Catie L. We were so close during our formative years. Why didn't we all stay connected as we set out in the world?

Talking to Krista last night stirred up similar sentiments about the friends and professional contacts I made at SMP. I think about those folks often and miss many of them.

Former coworker Melissa D. just phoned, and although I didn't get to speak to her, I do think about her often and wonder how she's doing in Japan. She added so much energy to the workplace, an energy that's really missing now.

Well, since I hate wallowing in nostalgia, I resolve to reconnect with those who have fallen out of touch. I have my work cut out!

Happy birthday Winston!

My dear son, I can't believe you are five years old today. It's snowing here in Minnesota, just as it was on the day you were born.

Back in 2002, Auntie Michele surprised me with a visit on your due date. She had planned to welcome her second nephew in fine style, but you took your own sweet time. You are never to be rushed, believe me, I get that. On the morning Michele was to leave, very early, I felt too crummy to drive her to the airport. Too crummy to get out of bed even, and I knew that was the sign I had been waiting for. The sign that you were coming.

So, Daddy very generously drove Michele to the airport at 5 a.m. When he returned, I asked him to spend the day with me rather than going to the office. I was afraid the weather would turn worse and he would have a hard time getting home when I needed him most. Because he is the best Daddy in the whole wide world, he stayed with me. We watched lots of bad TV and took walks in the snow and ate donuts from PJ Murphy's.

Grandma Margaret was going to take care of Simon, but she couldn't make it through the storm so we sent Simon across the street to the Lange's house. Eventually Daddy drove me to the hospital, and after a lot of hard labor and an epidural and many nurses and many hours, you arrived red and screaming. Birth was a lot of work for you too. And, I was so relieved and pleased that you had finally arrived.

I miss you so much today, but you are a very big boy on your very own vacation, and I am so proud of you. Winston Graham Shepard. Five. Years. Old!