Antioxidant Love

325/365
2:15 p.m.

Found as part of our salad mix from our CSA this week, I chopped it up and threw it in vegetable soup, which I've been making every single week since early August. That color surely has to ensure some serious free radical rounder-uppers, yes? Lasso up, baby!

Humdrum

322/365
9:18 a.m.

They can't all be pretty shots. Typical Charlie: hunched over, dirt on his fingers, eating something.

Pom

321/365
9:23 a.m.

You've heard of its health benefits. You know you should probably add it to your fruit list. But it's just so damn cumbersome forking out all those arils and that sassy crimson nectar just dares you to run away, right? Such a shame: Pomegranate: 1, Good People of The Earth-0.

Thirty Three Months

293/365
9:35 a.m.

He's going to be three, six, nine, twelve, thirty before I know it. So here I relish my almost 33-monther for the love, the adventure, the exhaustion, the joy, the curiosity, and the contentment he brings to our table every single day.

Pop, Pop, Pop, Pop

292/365
5:32 p.m.

At least twenty minutes of uninterrupted fun. Each pop is like a tiny gift of joy for Charlie.

Scarlet Letters

292/365
6:21 p.m.

I came home from Boston Sunday night to find Jack sporting a solid, frightening 104.2 temperature. Within 20 minutes of my arrival, we were on guard duty for the vomit, which entails buckets, cleaning products, blankets, and top-speed reflexes. Eleven pukes, glassy-eyed, and twelve hours later, we received a tentative over-the-phone diagnosis from the emergency pediatric service: strep throat. We held out until the the regular pediatrician's office opened, got a wickedly fast appointment, and after John carried him into the office (oh yes, carried), we received a diagnosis ala Little Women and Little House on the Prairie: Scarlet Freaking Fever!

I'm most grateful to those British scientists in 1977 who invented amoxicillin. Seriously, what a difference a day made.

Ahhh....

291/365
9:16 a.m.

I didn't realize Boston is the Capital of Dunkin' Donuts. John and I got hooked in Chicago, and find it a necessary treat to get a big ole' cup of DD when we're in the area. What was an exciting thought to have access to DD for three whole days in Boston felt like a deflated balloon when I passed about a dozen storefronts in a 6-block radius. It was one of those Hey, wait a minute, veil-lifting moments when you realize what you yearn for, what you covet is nothing more than....common.

Oh well, fine by me. Bottoms up.

Boston, MA

290/365
9:26 p.m.

Kristin and April wait for me in the rain at Government Center.

*For some reason, the posts are posting in the wrong order. Forgive. This was taken Saturday, November 14.

Three Lies

288/365
11:34 a.m.

This statue of John Harvard stoically sits in Harvard Yard. After an impressive, yet a tad yappy, student tour of Harvard University, we learned that although the plaque states this is John Harvard, it is decidedly not. There are no known photographs or physical descriptions of the man. Lie number one. Lie number two: John Harvard was not the Founder, which is stated below his name on said statue. And finally, by vote of the Great and General Court of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, it was founded in 1636, not 1638. Lie number three.

The toe is kept bronze through folks rubbing it for a little luck. Not sure I'd put my hopefulness in a basket of lies.

That said, if you've never been to Boston or Cambridge. Go. Right now. Tick-tock. I'll wait.

Head Strong

287/365
4:26 p.m.

When you have a burial ground with 5000 bodies and only 2300 headstones, you feel the combined creepitude and amazement reading 20 bodies are buried under each headstone. Shudder and awe. Willies and captivating. And so begins my tour of Boston....

Coming Through

286/365
9:47 a.m.

Although this appears like a fancy photography vignette, it's merely Charlie hanging out in a playground tunnel and me shooting through the holes. So much for fanciness.

Glowy

285/365
4:17 p.m.

The sun still shines in November.

Frolic and Plop

284/365
11:05 a.m.

Anything greater than a couple sticks, a fluffy, crunchy pile of leaves and friends? Didn't think so.

A Thing for Trees

283/365
4:01 p.m.

Of all of man's works of art, the cathedral is the greatest.

A vast and majestic tree is greater than that.

Henry Ward Beecher

Glass In the Garden

282/365
4:03 p.m.

This cascading glass chandelier by Dale Chihuly can be found in the foyer of the Missouri Botanical Gardens in St. Louis. Although the exhibit actually closed early in 2007, the distinguished artist left several pieces behind to be admired. I have been enchanted by his work since I saw it firsthand in Hawaii in 2000, and was thrilled to discover he is a UW graduate, simply because his masterpieces are scattered throughout this great city. Sadly, I've yet to attend a real exhibit. It's on The List.

Science

281/365
7:09 a.m.

Hot breath, cold window.

Shoot the Moon

280/365
10:09 p.m.

When I started this journey in January, I knew I wanted to attempt a photo of the moon. I crouched behind a tripod in single digits, shivering in silvery light, only to be disappointed with the lackluster result. For some unknown reason, I failed to take a shot when I could stand alone with crickets and fireflies and delicious humidity. Unbelievably, this year is coming to an end, and so, it is with fret that I shot this.

I still have December. In the meantime, our moon walk recital:

I see the moon

the moon sees me.

God bless the moon

God bless me.

Compulsion

279/365
5:36 p.m.

You know that anticipation on Thanksgiving? The house starts off cool and empty and harsh with the child-like clanging of getting pots and pans out of cabinets. In small increments, the house builds warmth, and the chatter and movement and cinnamon-sage scented air swirls in tenderly blown circles around the encompassing energy. When the turkey slides out all golden and sizzling and Momentous, the collective ooohs and ahhs inevitably draws someone with a camera to capture this year's cardinal platter. Then, really, what do you do with that picture? Do you go back through 20 photographs of holiday turkeys? Does it invoke the memory of the day, the people, the warmth? Or is it a pass-by shot, building to the sum of its Thanksgiving parts?

I internally groan at the cliche' of photographing said item. But here I am, not even a holiday, where the chicken emerges all golden and sizzling and Momentous, and our collective oohs and ahhs inevitably encourages dash for the camera. Doubt I'll remember that it was stuffed with lemon and garlic and tarragon. Or that Jack and his friend were buzzing around capturing spiders in the basement. Or that John came home talking about a meeting at work. Or Charlie ever-so-quietly discovering access to leftover Halloween candy. Here it is nonetheless, and I can remember the scent, the warmth, and that the normalcy of the day is full of love, cliche' and all.

Beauty Remains

278/365
1:02 p.m.

The stripped and shapely

Maple grieves

The loss of her

Departed leaves.

The ground is hard

as hard as stone.

The year is old,

the birds have flown.

And yet the world,

nevertheless,

Displays a certain

Loveliness.

-John Updike, A Children's Calendar

Death By Craft

277/365
4:29 p.m.

The entire table was an abandoned mound of construction paper, topless markers, forkfuls of yarn, deflated balloons, ribbons of Scotch tape, teaspoons of glue puddles, and enough Q-tips to make real-life skeleton depictions for all four of us.

And this is why we don't play with glitter.

Untitled

276/365
10:45 a.m.

Happy Halloween!

275/365
5:54 p.m.

Our dynamic duo was thrilled for the evening's festivities. Jack, otherwise known as The Flash, demonstrated his speed and agility between every house along the way, as Charlie, our little Cloud, appropriately floated. Charlie insisted on being a cloud this year, despite having a perfectly adorable little green bug costume waiting in the closet for him. He should be noted for his determination and lack of last minute wavering. So, our Cloud (with a Silver Lining, I might add) spent the evening allowing the wind to push him to the next house.

It really just keeps getting better!

Spooktacularly Safe

274/365
7:39 p.m.

Halloween is probably the Most Daunting of all the holidays for food allergy families. The whole idea of it is allowing strangers to put food in your bag, presumably for you to eat, which is against our entire Stay Safe philosophy. Luckily, the Food Allergy Association of Wisconsin provides a food-free Halloween event each year. Having a safe place to participate in games, do crafts, and walk in a costume-showcasing parade without worrying a nanosecond about food gives us a momentary breath of normalcy.

Happiness In a Stick

273/365
10:34 a.m.

We had a downright enchanting morning in the UW Arboretum. Sticks were swords, leaf piles were oceans and battlefields, and the brisk air needed a good lashing.

{ONWARD, MY BROTHER!}

Nibble

272/365

12:32 p.m.

Apparently, Charlie categorizes carrots in the same How to Eat column as corn on the cob. Fine by me.