This is getting embarrassing and I'm sure my pinko grandparents would not approve, but my little family is sure getting used to the good life (probably good to get while the gettin' is still good).
This past weekend we spent a lovely 24 hours up at the lovely Stinson Beach with our lovely friends from England and their lovely son, born on the same day as the twins.
For like the fourth time in as many weeks we partied like members of the chattering class in good standing—with wine and cheese and these outrageously tasty little Gorgonzola crackers from Trader Joe's. The weather was, as my friend Hilary likes to say, "absurdo" and the view was beautiful. All of it was just too, too pleasant. Pleasant enough for me to feel the fuzzy outline of guilt (again, with the Commie grandparents whispering "softie" into my ear).
So what if the economy is crumbling around us? So what if we are at war? Nothing beats an afternoon of crab fishing with your two-year-olds off the edge of your private dock, glass of wine by your side.
So what if I'm toast when the revolution comes?
Oliver checks out a crab we caught with my ingenious
plastic-citrus-bag-and-raw-hamburger invention
This picture is all the husband's fault, but those are the $100 jeans
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