Green with envy over green thumbs

We live in a little neighborhood that consists of three buidings, each with 4 townhouse units. It's a pretty idyllic spot for kids (9 of the 12 units are families with kids.) We have a playground, playing fields, a circle for bike and scooter riding, a giant woodchip pile that has provided hours of imaginative play, and a little neighborhood garden. On beautiful days like today, the kids roam around in a pack, while the moms sit outside and chat, occasionally reminding them to not eat chalk or walk in front of the swings. As our beautiful days have increased in frequency, our neighborhood gardeners have come out in force. The square of dirt that has looked depressing all winter, is starting to fill up now with tiny starter plants. I'll tell you straight up, I am no gardener. I have tremendous difficulty keeping any green thing alive. As much as I respect and admire those that do, I just don't seem to have what it takes. I've only had one pseudo-success in the garden in my entire life. I made a bold attempt with a few tomato plants last year. I kept them potted, but worked throughout the summer to nurture them along. Then, just as those green tomatoes that I had been tending so carefully began to show their first tints of orange, we sublet our townhouse for a month, and went to Utah. Our lovely tenants literally enjoyed all the fruits of my labor. This year, as much as I am itching to try again, I have to restrain myself. I can't keep an indoor plant alive for more than a few weeks. Somehow, I don't think my tomato plants would survive a cross-country move in the middle of June. Alas, I must wait for next year. Maybe then, I'll be brave enough to actually plant them in the ground.

I'm in love

She arrived today, all tiny and pink. My new baby!

The pink means that she's all mine. No sharing with my husband! Hip, hip, hurray!

Yes, I am a New Yorker.

In my time living in New York, I have become an avid reader of the New York Times. (Actually, I started reading it while at BYU in an attempt to keep a little balance in my life.) Anyway, I'm too much of a cheapskate to actually buy a subscription to the Times and I hate having piles of recycling around. So, I check the NY Times website every morning. I've realized over the last few months, that although I read it every day, I never have any idea what's on the front page. Why on earth would I want to read about bail-out plans and water-boarding, when I can read David Pogue's technology blog, the Tuesday Science Times, and Thomas Friedman's editorials? Bono (yes of U2 fame) wrote a fantastic piece that was in last weekend's Sunday Times.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/19/opinion/19bono.html

Are we focusing on "value" or "values?" And doesn't Easter bring about such masterful musings?

Two months

Moving day is less than two months away. In some ways two months sounds like a LONG time, but then I remember that my husband and I both work at a school, and I start to panic about how little time I have to get everything done.

The last two months of the school year are a blurry sprint. You come back all relaxed from spring break and then you don't breath again until June.

Keeping that in mind, we decided to tackle the attic last week. Today, it was "winter clothes." I'm ashamed that we have as much as we do, when 6 huge bags of clothing went to Goodwill this afternoon.

When we moved to New York, we drove a half empty truck and fit ourselves comfortably into a 300 square foot apartment in Morningside Heights. 9 years and 3 kids sure have loaded us up with a lot more crap.

I'm dreading the bookshelves and kitchen more than any other spaces in our house and can only blame myself for them.

Do you ever...

...fall asleep at 6:30 in the evening, only to wake up at midnight with no hope of falling back to sleep anytime soon? I do. So, here I am folding laundry, watching HGTV, loading the dishwasher, and blogging. It's amazing how much more productive I am when I shouldn't be. The house is quiet and clean. My inevitably difficult morning seems worth it in the moment.

What do you do when you are inexplicably (or hormonally) awake in the middle of the night?