beads. a good day.

A very good day happened a couple of weeks back. My daughter and I headed to Old Town Tbilisi on a crisp morning. We were in search of supplies-- anything crafty-- and in search of an adventure.

In Tbilisi, it's often difficult to tell what a store is selling and even if the shop is open. With frequent power outages, dim lights and dark interiors, the smaller stores in town provide an adventure just by crossing their threshold. I've now spent a great deal of time in stores across town and have stumbled upon a couple of jewels. Our destination on this morning was one of the gems.

About a third of the way down the hill from Freedom Square, on the right hand side, as you are walking toward the river, there is a darkly lit store front. A few hand knitted socks, some buttons and a strand of pom poms hang in the window. When you push on the door, it gives and, due to the darkness in the windows, you find yourself a bit surprised that the store is open. And, then you arrive inside! The walls are lined with colorful skeins of locally spun yarn. The tables are covered with beads and shells and jewelry fittings in every shape, size and color.

And, even though, we've visited this store before, my daughter stood in wonder upon entering. This place is her version of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. She quietly took the basket the store keeper handed her and she slowly began to select beads to fill it. After great internal debate over several items, she approached the cashier, handed over some Georgian Lari and we were on our way to the next store front.

Walking toward the river again, we came across the underpass that holds another favorite stop of ours. We descended the broken up stairs and blinked as we launched into the damp darkness of Tbilisi's underpass stores. In other cities, or at the wrong time of night, these are the types of spaces that would make me nervous to be apart of. Covered in graffiti, dark and often with a perpetual drip of some unknown liquid falling from some unseen corner, the underpasses are less than comfortable. However, in the middle of the day, musicians perform, vendors sell their wares and popcorn stands fill the passages with a warm aroma. Arriving at the desired store, we pushed on the door, unsticking it from its perpetual jam, and entered another small world focused on crafty pursuits. Purchasing what we needed, we exited and moved on to the closest Katchupuri stand. The layers of flaky pastry, stuffed with local cheese, hot from the oven was a perfect end to a great adventure.

cookie dough.

This is a big week in our home. My two oldest kids finish school and all of the festivities, and work, that go into celebrating the end of the school year are in full swing. On top of that, we have some (very welcome) play dates scheduled and some extra unusually scheduled days. Which calls for.... fast kid snacks.

So, on Sunday, I did myself a favor and prepped. As I type, carrot sticks are in the fridge, apples are in the fruit bowl and ready to have their peels removed (since that's the only way my son will eat them these days!) and a batch of frozen cookies is ready for individual baking. Which brings me to the easiest (and best sweet) homemade snack in the world! When the play dates happen, the gardeners arrive, our handyman stops by, a friend stops by to pick up a stack of magazines, spontaneous movie night begins... warm cookies in minutes.

Simply make your favorite cookie dough, roll it into balls, set them on a metal tray/baking sheet, freeze for about 20 minutes, pop them off the tray, place into an airtight container and return to the freezer. When you want a warm cookie, place a frozen cookie ball(s) on a parchment lined cookie tray and bake per usual.

wild snail.

Late last Fall, just as the year was winding down, my (phenomenal) grammie sent me a package in the mail. "I picked up this little book and thought you might enjoy it...." the note started. Behind the note was a small, thin hardback book-- The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating by Elisabeth Tova Bailey.

It's a simple story detailing what one is able to observe, and find joy in, when life's circumstances force you to stop. The narrative details the life of a nature loving woman who falls ill and is forced to stay in bed. She mourns her current state, when a friend brings her a bit of nature in the form of a small houseplant. Left alone with the plant, the woman observes a snail in the potting soil and begins to care for it, simultaneously observing a small amount of nature that she had previously not taken the time to appreciate.

Last summer, our Georgian garden was covered in snails. They clung to the tree trunks, the edge of our pond, the base of our outdoor table, the security bars that guard our city windows. I had never seen so many snails in one space. My daughter loved putting on big rubber gloves and pulling them off of everything in sight. She'd collect buckets of them, with her younger brother standing by her side watching in part horror and in part awe.

As our Georgian garden drew to a close and prepared to rest for winter, The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating was a reminder of what to expect when the snow melted. My mind raced back to summer when my daughter dawned those big yellow gloves. But, this year, when I saw that first snail of the season, I remembered the description of what it sounds like to hear a snail quietly making dinner of one of our leaves.

And, now, once again, our yard is covered in green. The rains have pummeled the fruiting trees this month and the grass has become mud. And, with the change of the season (and the mud and the rain), comes a yard full of snails. This season, both of my kids-- sister and brother-- wake excited to hear that it rained overnight because, naturally, it meant the perfect early morning opportunity to snail hunt. So, out of bed they go and into the wilds of our back garden. There are no big rubber gloves this year-- simply bare hands and a bucket to collect the little creatures that fascinate them so. "I wonder what their house looks like inside there?" says my daughter. "I bet this one has super hero posters hung up in that shell!" responds my son. And, on they go, chatting about snails and knocking drops of rain water off of branches and onto each other. I watch from our floor to ceiling kitchen windows, drinking coffee, and wondering how many snails are quietly eating their breakfast as my kids pluck them from the grasses.

Mayan drinking chocolate cupcakes.

My daughter has been studying Mexico. The symmetry of the ancient Mayan pyramids, geography of the country, the art of Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera, ancient storytelling and the secrets of Mayan drinking chocolate have all been discussed at length. Which, ultimately led to the creation of these tasty little bites.

Begin by making Mayan Drinking Chocolate. Allow it to cool completely and then whip it with an electric beater for approximately 5 minutes. The texture will be glossy and spreadable.

While the drinking chocolate is cooling, begin to make your cakes. Whip 1/4 cup of room temperature butter with 3/4 cup sour cream and 1 cup of granulated sugar until well combined and fluffy. Add one cup of water, one teaspoon salt, 1 and 1/4 teaspoons baking soda, 1/2 teaspoon baking powder and 2 eggs. Mix just until combined. Then, all at once, fold in the following ingredients: 2 cups of sifted all purpose flour, 1/2 cup of cocoa powder, 2 tablespoons of vanilla and 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper. Fill lined cupcake pans half-full and bake in a 350 degree oven for approximately 20 minutes (or until a toothpick inserted comes out clean). Allow to cool slightly.

Spread your frosting on a slightly cooled cake and tilt until it melts and covers the top. Add gold sprinkles and place into an espresso cup. Serve with a small spoon and still warm.

mama.

For those who came before and paved a path for me
with strength and ceaseless energy to hug and lift high overhead and tickle and play,
responsibility to protect ferociously,
with a spirit that giggles because the glass is always half full--
if you tilt your head the right way.
Oh, happy day.

For those looking at generations now above,
and continuing on,
with wisdom that I can only dream to one day gain.
How do you watch as they take flight?
This day. Look at what you've done! You have changed the world.
Oh, happy day.

For those brand new to the game.
I say to you what was said to me on my first day,
Welcome.
And, you will genuinely smile because you get it.
You get this for real. This year, as you realize the enormity of it all.
Oh, happy day.

For those with a growing love,
kicks inside,
waiting for the moment when
those new fingers curl round yours
and you quietly whisper you're mine, i'm yours.
Oh, happy day.

This day is for us
and together we are better than alone.
Because everyone has an opinion of who we should be
and you know what? Silly, belittling, come on. Of course we are mom enough.
We are more so say it together--
Oh! Happy! Day!

road to Ananuri.

Somehow the calendar blew to May when I wasn't looking. How the heck did that happen?! So seizing the opportunity to travel Georgia's now green filled hills, last weekend, we hit the road for a trip about an hour outside of the city and visited the 13th century castle complex at Ananuri. We've visited two previous times. With one additional attempt in the heavy snow. Instead of arriving at the castle, we ended up driving about three fourths of the way before we gave up* on the icy slopes, pulled over and played in the deep snow.

Last weekend, the sky was blue and filled with puffy clouds-- a perfect morning for playing at the castle and checking out the vendors stalls. We climbed ancient walls, stared up the rabbit hole of turrets missing their roofs, listened to the bleating of sheep herds being led to the river's edge for water and wrapped scarves around our heads to duck into the tiny candle-lit church at the heart of the castle.

And, after that we ended our adventure at one of my favorite restaurants. Just outside of Tbilisi, in Mtskheta is a magical little place that I've nicknamed the Hobbit House (appropriate since you dine at tables about two feet from the ground, sit on slabs of wood fashioned into tiny stools and are surrounded by walls of stone. Salobie (as the restaurant is officially named) serves the best Khinkali I've had thus far in Georgia (note the size of the tender dumplings as my 8-year old's ink stained hand points to them in a picture below!).

*Translation: I freaked out and insisted we pull over. I like a certain level of adventure, but drop-off cliffs, ice, snow and crazy drivers on remote roads turn me pale, road sick and without fingernails. Knowing me well, my husband started the winter drive by saying, if anyone gets uncomfortable, we'll stop. I happily made it three-fourths of the (gorgeous, winter dreamland, scenic glory) way and then screamed for mercy.