Posts Tagged: waffles

Jul 10

34th Birthday, take two

Had more fun than I thought possible today, despite the fact that the beginning of the day was conspiring against me (female troubles, RAIN?????!!!!, late to get Anna to school)…..the rest of the day was gravy: long walk with Adam on the (drizzly but still gorgeous) beach, coffee, lunch on the sand, afternoon run, snuggles around a fire (seriously, I cannot remember a single birthday of mine in my entire LIFE that was this chilly!), then dinner out.

Oh! Plus! I got presents!

Somehow I kinda sorta forgot (forgot? is this a sign of my advanced age?) about the presents thing. I mean…I knew there might be presents. But it was SO not my focus this year (I mean, not like when I was a kid and I could hardly sleep for the excitement of waking up in the morning to New Stuff) that it felt like a really incredibly amazing special surprise to see things that people picked out for me, just for me, just to celebrate me! Pretty cool.

My mom and Adam totally weirded me out by both, independently of each other, buying me the exact same thing (heart shaped waffle iron). The present itself is not weird, no not at all (I’ve secretly been coveting one for a while to round out my waffle iron collection), it was just kind of bizarro that they would both get me the same thing. They love me enough to both know how much I would love that exact thing, I guess!

But, well, you know, it wasn’t all about the presents. I feel this year, more than any year in my life, that (sorry, cheesy writing alert) it is a gift to just be here. To be alive. What a gift! I felt a little teary today when I thanked my mom for giving birth to me 34 years ago. What a wondrous thing: to breathe, to move, to smell the damp earth and see the green things grow and feel the love of people around oneself. It’s the best thing I could think of, just to be here.

XO to all of you, my loved ones. I’m lucky to know you.

Mar 10

Photographic Evidence

that I actually do make waffles (wearing heels and pearls, of course) here.

I also have an adorable child, bake cookies, and look serious, from time to time.

I definitely have a very talented friend (Adrea Scheidler at Bright Waters Photography). Who else could make waffle making look so glamorous and artsy? Awesome.

Jan 10

things i am currently obsessed with

– knitting this sweater (except I’m making mine with sleeves)
– Bikram yoga
– keeping the dog off of the couch (so sick of vacuuming dog hair)
– baking more bread than we can possibly eat–seriously, Adam is about to cut me off from buying flour
– waffles (duh)

Oct 09


Anna discovered bubble wrap this weekend, in the box containing accessories for Adam’s newest obsession hobby*: Italian coffee (this box contained Illy espresso cups).

She popped, she jumped and popped, she wrapped herself in bubble wrap (and then popped it), she made bubble wrap slippers (and popped them). Pop Pop Pop. Silly silly fun.

* Adam has more hobbies than most people have pairs of socks. He is the most intense hobbyist I have ever met. Ever. He plays every sport imaginable (and has all the accoutrements for them–think bikes [4, yes FOUR], surfboards [a dozen? I’ve lost count], etc), he fishes, he cooks, he takes photographs, he bakes, he makes gelato and ice cream, he brews beer, he is working on perfecting his espresso and cappuccino making. He dreams of collecting wines and pressing his own olive oil (these dreams, as yet unfulfilled, sadly; though, please note that he does process and can his own olives and we drink a fair amount of wine). It’s kind of funny when I’m not trying to get into the garage to do a load of laundry. When I’m shoving aside woodworking tools to get into the dryer, it’s less amusing. I will concede that it is, on the whole, interesting, entertaining, enlightening, and (on the whole) helpful to be married to this jack-of-all trades. After all, he did rescue my waffle iron from the trash pile and saved us a hundred or so bucks in doing so. Awww. I heart you, Adam Gray.

(Waring wanted to charge us upwards of $100 for something that Adam fixed with a cordless drill and 25 cents worth of nuts and bolts. Suh-weet. House of Waffles? BACK IN BUSINESS. Thanks, sweetheart.)

Sep 09

Waffle Day

Sunday = Waffle Day

Anna woke up as she often does, ravenously, grumpily hungry. Needing to eat Right This Second. “I so hungry now, Mama!” she whined as I hurried to make the finishing touches on our Goodnight Waffles (recipe is made mostly the night before, with the exception of the addition of eggs, baking soda, and vanilla the morning of).

I warmed up the waffle iron as Adam added the final ingredients to the batter and stirred. All was chaos: Adam ran back to pull on a t-shirt (it’s getting chilly already here!), Jack the cat meowed in hunger, stirring restlessly between my legs, further scattering cat food (that he had spilled, in a loud, dramatic fashion, in the wee hours of the morning) all over the kitchen and dining room floors, Lucky the dog, groaning to be woken so early, stretched and panted, hoping to catch any stray food that might make its way to the kitchen floor.

I pour the first serving of waffle batter onto the iron, close the lid, and flip, as I’ve done these past many years. Except! This time, the waffle apparatus falls (falls! the horror!). “Adam! Get in here NOW! I’m having a situation with the waffle iron!” Adam scrambles in the bedroom, down the hall, and appears in the kitchen, concern written over his face. Anna whines, “That one my waffle! I eat it now!”

“Not now, honey, we’re just….OOF….trying to fix it….something’s wrong with it.”

[Adam and I, burning ourselves on the hot waffle iron, have a brief moment of laughter over the similarity to the Corn Holer in our beloved series Arrested Development.] Adam runs to the garage, returns with a #2 Phillips. I’m trying to hold the damn thing together, steam and heat and hot waffle batter and all. We flip it open and out comes the most beautiful, breathtakingly gorgeous waffle ever. Somehow. Even with a broken waffle iron.

Anna gets the waffle. Of course. The benefits of being a beloved only child (though we did make her ask for it nicely, no whining, thankyouverymuch).

Adam declares the screws stripped, swears. Declares he’s calling the company and demanding a replacement. I sigh, knowing that I would prefer to just buy another waffle iron: to me, it’s not worth the time and effort dealing with a company who probably doesn’t care one iota, who will stonewall and transfer from person to person to person before finally, maybe, begrudgingly, will conceded to perhaps provide a replacement, provided we pay to ship the old one back. Sigh Sigh Sigh.

Somehow, Adam rigs it up in such a way that we can cook more waffles, albeit it carefully, with much care, with the care that new parents take with the wobbly head of their newborn child. “Careful, now!” Adam says. He will not leave his post. He makes more waffles: one for me, one for him. I start another one for Anna and…..the waffle iron falls apart again. Adam fixes it (sort of. temporarily, at least). It makes the last waffle and then busts apart again.

Sorrowfully, we turn the iron off. We’ve recently discovered that one single waffle, minus syrup or other toppings, is almost 400 calories. Yikes. Must be all that butter. Mmmmm…..butter. Defiant, we vow to continue with our waffle tradition, topped and all (and me with my tea with sugar and cream–once a week!), but limiting them to one each (well, with the exception of Anna, who is too young and slender to worry about the deleterious effects of too much butter and excess calories–she generally eats two waffles, they are that good and that crispy and light and yum yum yum).

And that, my friends, is how we began the morning, believing all was right with the world, believing that waffles could continue on, as always. We ended the morning with a screwdriver on the counter and another thing on the to-do list, a little less trust in the providence of the future. Oh, the horror! The horror of a future devoid of homemade waffles! This must be remedied at once!