What if Bill Buckner worked for Apple?

He'd be this guy, Gray Powell.  Gray Powell walked into a beer garden a few nights ago and left, sitting on the bar, his prototype iPhone.  Oops.  I'm probably the last person in the blogosphere to catch on to this little story, so I'll not beat it to death much further.  But, as it was discussed in my living room last night, I realized that in all my musings about what Bar may or may not become, may or may not do, it has never once occurred to me that he might grow up to be, "that guy who leaves his prototype iPhone in a beer garden."  I somehow doubt that thought ever crossed Mrs. Powell's mind either.  So, to my son, dear Bar, I say this to you now on this most public of forums; should you ever commit a comparably boneheaded act and become, say, "the guy who accidentally mislays the only set of keys to the space shuttle," I will still love you without end or reservation, beyond limit and reason, but please, please don't.

A good egg

How does one begin a blog? I find I have no idea. So, I suppose I will begin by simply beginning. I may revisit some past events or musings in later posts or eventually offer more explanation for why this blog exists at all. But, for now, starting from here will have to do.

This is Bar. He is my son. He is the fruit of my body, the light of my life, the spark of my soul. To most everybody else, I reckon he is just a boy. That's fine too. He enjoys egg salad, the cat, and "reading" the newspaper. On extra good days, he'll manage to combine all three and I find myself the proud owner of a kid, a cat, and a pile of shreds and mush all an identical shade of yellowish grey. Being his mother, I think that the sun rises and sets on him and his mushy piles, so I don't mind. I'm also reasonably fond of the cat.

Bar is one whole year old. He and I, and the cat, have spent our days playing and reading, eating and sleeping, growing and learning. Every new mother I think is amazed at how fast time moves when her child is developing daily more of his brain and body than she will for the rest of her life. It's a humbling realization and one that sets me into a tailspin of blind panic and terror if I dwell too long on the notion that I'll not be able or even around to protect him from so many frightening things - smog, war, the pressures of becoming a great man (or even a pretty good one). More on all that another time.

Today is only the beginning of a simple blog about food and drink, navigating motherhood, and celebrating life as I've got it.

And with that; here is Bar's favorite egg salad recipe.

2 hard boiled eggs

2 heaping tablespoons mayonnaise

1.5 teaspoons dijon mustard

1 teaspoon capers, rinsed and drained

1 large multigrain cracker

Smoosh the eggs - the capers together until they reach the consistency of, well, egg salad. Smear it on the cracker and give it to the baby. Best enjoyed outside in the sun with an animal friend on a pile of newspapers or a blanket.