Eloise Jane 7.0

      Eloise Jane version 7.0 drops today.  This release comes with a host of technology upgrades, including her own apple account (so she can text Mama and Papa from her iPad), a talent for finding and sharing silly online memes, and her very first selfie (see photo below - melt!).  7.0 also comes with an optional animal companion, the Husky dog for which Eloise will not stop begging me to acquire ... I'm opting out of that feature.  

     For her special day, Eloise asked for a party at Urban Air Indoor Park with a few of her friends.  Iyla is not allowed to invite friends, I suspect because Eloise wants to ensure her big sister plays with her 😊.   Later, we are having presents and "cat cake with its claws out" at Mama's house, followed by a swim in Papa's pool and dinner menu of her choosing ... She will likely choose mac and cheese with roasted broccoli -- one of her favorites.

     Happy Birthday, Miss Eloise Jane Lambert.  You make my heart oh so very happy!

Mother's Ilk

Your appearance in the courtyard 

is a pale reflection of season's past 

when you illuminated the morning glories 
with your rapturous charm
and old men at the chess board arose in chorus 
to praise your brightly-colored ensembles.

Now, some hostile years have marched 

over your allure, scarring a landscape marked 

by husband's infidelities,

an ectopic pregnancy, 

Lyme disease,

a breast cancer scare.
  
The hand-woven sweater which seasons ago 
adorned a vibrant figure 
struggles to obscure a shy, defeated form.
  
Your daughters flutter beside you, nimble as a fireflies.
The promise of the day is alight in their eyes.
You smile when their eyes meet yours, 

but not often besides.
  
Your husband pulls the water hose to his pickup truck, 
eyeing the buxom sweater across the way.  

You were once a splendid bride, 
full of laughter and unbounded esteem.  

When we danced on your wedding day

you declared you never knew such euphoria.

"He's The One," you said,

and I spied in your lavender-painted eyes

the hypnotic state that bends lovers

toward forever promises.

I blessed you, 

and I blessed your marriage,

because there is only 

                      this

                      moment 
before the curtain drops 

and one is heard no more.  

Your daughters wave hello, 
exalted in their matching floral-print dress.

You conceal your fractured spirit from them,
yet when they are old enough for shopping malls, 
push-up bras, and boy's lusty stares, 
when they learn of father's affairs, 
will you commend them to hold sacred their precious pearls, 
to value what is divine in them 
and what should never be surrendered?

Or will they suffer the contamination

of mother's soured milk.

**First published in Suspended Magazine

Child's Song

A child falls
then bleeds,
stumbles and bleeds.
She bleeds and bleeds.

What do we do

when we fall?

"Get back up, Papa!"

A thousand cuts
follow her
into adulthood.

 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

 

A child farts
then laughs,
belches and laughs.

She laughs and laughs.

Where do you 

feel it?

"In my belly, Papa!"

Laughter is an anecdote

to life's callous
encroachments.

 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

 

A child mourns

then cries,

questions and cries.

She cries and cries.

Why the ambulance,

Papa?

"For the neighbor, Buddy."

Death and mourning

usher the cycle
of renewal.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

 

So play the song
that she may sing,
play it 'til
the fingers bleed.

Strike up the band.
She sings and sings.

"Play it again, Papa!"

A child's song
celebrates
the living thing.

Iyla Grace 10.0

     Iyla Grace is double digits!   This release comes with a passion for illustrated books:  The Babysitter's Club (her favorite), Amulet, Primer, Diary of a Sixth-Grade Ninja.  She can't get enough, and it fills my heart with joy to experience her love of the written word. 

     Iyla Grace Productions has three, new feature films set to release in time for Oscar consideration:  Space Dude, Thunder Cloud & The Wolf Clan, and Myth / Haze are all written, directed, and produced by Miss Iyla Grace Lambert.  Look for them this holiday season at a theater near you.

    Happy Birthday, Little Buddy!

Creamy Coconut Corn Soup with Chili Crisp

     Light and quick to assemble, this summer soup makes a nice companion to your grilled sandwich.  I prefer to consume it in a coffee mug ... The chili crisp adds a spark of heat to the sweet, summer corn ... Delicious! 

INGREDIENTS 

• 4 tbsps. extra virgin olive oil
• 2 medium yellow onions (about two cups), diced
• 4 (12 oz.) bags frozen sweet corn
• 4 (32 oz.) cups low-sodium vegetable broth
• 2 (12.5 oz.) cans unsweetend coconut milk
• 1 tbsp. ground coriander
• 1 tbsp. fine salt
• 1 tsp. garlic powder
• 1 tsp. smoked paprika
• 1 tsp. group black pepper

          GARNISH

• Chili crisp

     1).  Warm the olive oil in a large stock pot over medium-high heat.

     2).  Add the onion, coriander, salt, garlic powder, smoked paprika, and black pepper, then sauté for until the onion softens and turns translucent.

     3).  Add the corn, broth, and coconut milk, bring to a simmer and cook until the corn is tender (about 10-15 minutes), then remove from the heat.

     4).  Use an immersion blender to puree until smooth.  Taste and season to your liking.

     5).  Serve garnished with a drizzle of chili crisp.

SERVES 8 

Eloise Jane 6.0

     Eloise Jane version 6.0 went live today.  This release comes with an upgraded sense of humor –– now slightly elevated above pee and poop jokes ––, an abiding love of animals and insects –– she scolds me for killing wasps in the house ––, and a tender heart that craves human connection ... She is the best snuggler!  

     I asked our girl how she wants her special day to go:  "Papa, I want to stay home from school cause birthday girls get to skip school, and I want Iyla to stay home from school and play with me.  I want to open presents from you and Mama, then have cake with frosting, then pizza with frosting ... Then I want to have a party."

     Happy Birthday to Miss Eloise Jane.  My heart is full!

Guide To Amsterdam (For Visiting Americans)

Follow the mother holding her child’s hand

through the Red Light District.

Smile at the working girls 

dressing rose-colored windows.

Spend an afternoon in a coffeeshop 

with an Englishman named Bob and a joint called ‘Cheese’.

Order a genever; remember to bend and sip

before picking it up.

Stand aside for an army of bicyclists;

they have the right-of-way.

Observe ancient church rituals

older than the promise of the New World.

Tour the Anne Frank House and marvel

at the unbeatable tenacity of creation.

Drop by The Book Exchange:  donate one well-read;

leave with a promising new companion.

Traverse the canals at dusk

with fellow travelers you have never met.

Break the provincial bread; indulge the chocolates, frites,

beers, cheeses.  Try the soused herring.

Tell a self-deprecating joke about American tourists ──

ask me if you need one.

Everybody speaks English, but you curry favor

with your fumbling attempts at Dutch.

Wander without a destination through

the cobble-stoned City Centrum district.

Languish at midnight in your third-story bedroom window

and behold a city that has exorcised 

the demons of puritan austerity, suffered and bled for it,

and emerged a wise and mischievous soul.

**First published in Beyond Words Literary Magazine

**Illustration by Morgane Xenos