The great table collapse of ’07 destroyed nearly all of my dishes, and most of what remained (after the mover destruction of ’03) of my original set of china. I really grieved this loss because beautiful dishes are symbolic for me. It’s what I have to offer the people I love. They are tools I use to create a life of beauty and grace as I nurture everyone who comes in my circle. I’m a firm believer in using what you love and not postponing the best because of the fear of wear and tear. I pull out china whenever I feel in the need of a pick me up. Whenever I make a really good meal I want to set off with importance. Whenever a guest is over and I want to make them feel special.

My mother-in-law Sally took pity on me when I lost my dishes and gave me the set her mother left when she died. While I normally have an irrational bias against anything gold, I just adore these dishes. The quality is outrageous. I don’t think you could get dishes like these in the states for love or money, and while I’m not normally a sentimental person, I treasure that Jared’s grandmother, a woman I knew and loved, carried these back from Germany herself.

The porcelain is so fine it’s translucent, and yet I’m never afraid to handle them. Which, now that I think of it, reminds me of Jared’s grandmother. Grams was a lovely, tiny, bird thin woman, always with a wiglet of curls over her pinned up hair and covered in layers of sweatshirts to try to stay warm. You’d never know to look at her what a mighty force she was in the lives of her family – raising her brothers and sisters as a teenager during the depression, earning food by working as a laborer at a turnip farm, teaching her family the gospel and keeping generations of family tightly knit together. To this day Sally and her siblings and generations of cousins go to Utah every summer for a family reunion with the children and grandchildren of those siblings Grams helped raise.

I’ve never been one to cherish the story behind an object before. I think that motherhood is injecting life into my robot heart.

A few years ago Bear’s cousin Sunny gave us a matching set of cocoa mugs – T for me and J for Jared – and it was one of my favorite gifts ever. So of course they died in the great table crash of ’07. Rest in peace sweet little mugs.

I am quite the hot cocoa connoisseur. I prefer homemade whenever I take the trouble, but ordinarily I’m not that picky as long as it’s rich and creamy. I also love the flavored cocoas. A little shot of raspberry syrup is just the very best thing. Or peppermint if I need a quick shot of Christmas cheer.

This, a good book, and a cat on my lap are really about all I need to get me through the roughest of days.

For my first mothers day, I made sure Bear knew I expected a fuss to be made. I even outlined how my day must be spent, starting with fresh whip cream and peaches. It was a good thing I was so demanding because my normally incredibly thoughtful husband was fully prepared to drop the ball on that one, so my demanding behavior/articulating my needs narrowly avoided an epic disaster.

He came through with an excellent present. He went to an antique jewelry store over on PCH and found me a vintage white gold ring with a huge garnet and little diamonds on the side. Normally I prefer to go with artificial stones for many reasons: the quality is so good now that no one on the street could tell the difference, it’s ridiculously cheaper, I’m not contributing to an artificially inflated consumer culture, and I’m not contributing to the tragically corrupt diamond trade. But since this is a vintage ring, I can rationalize all my objections and just enjoy the sparkly.

Bear chatted up the lady at the store and she decided to give him a special little ring box for our special occasion. The whole thing measures maybe an inch and a quarter and has the tiniest little clasp I’ve ever seen. I have no idea what to do with it, but something about it just cheers me, so even though I’m totally anti trinkets, it’s just sitting around on my desk collecting dust.

My friend Jess is so darn on the ball. She’s already sent Atti two big packages, meanwhile her little Junebug is already a year old and I’ve done absolutely nothing. She sent the cutest little board book all about cats, and some of the pictures look exactly like my own cats. Then the other day I got another package with an adorable little outfit and this book, which just may be the greatest idea I’ve ever seen.

She made this book for Atti out of a photo album. It’s full of all these adorable little baby faces and descriptions of all the activities a baby could be up to.

This is my favorite page.

The baby model for “cheeks” is Jess’s very own Junebug, and she has the most adorably munchable cheeks I have ever seen on a little human. Oh, gosh she’s cute.

I’m always a sucker for a handmade present, but this is such a perfect gift for a baby it kind of made me angry I hadn’t thought of it myself. I love it.

Would you look at this?

Look at that belly fuzz! And the best part is that she’s generous in sharing. To a fault. Especially when you’re wearing black pants and would like to keep them that way.

But seriously, unless you are deathly allergic or something, how could you keep yourself from rubbing that?

I found these pajamas at Costco back in January, and I went back and got one in every color. They’re made of a fabric called “Soybu” – part Soy plant and part Bamboo plant. They are just the softest, most comfortable things ever, and if I’m home and plan on being there for a few hours in a row? You can find me sporting a pair of these.