"Mama, I need a menu," exclaimed Carson, my 2 year old, while sitting at the kitchen table waiting for his dinner to be made. By me. P.S. I love strawberries. [Photo: zoha_n via Flickr]

One of my neighbors and friends, Annette, here in my cute and quirky Seattle neighborhood, has an amazing city garden that’s starting to rival Martha Stewart’s. Seriously–name a fruit, veggie, herb or berry–and she probably has it in the ground. (And P.S. she also has chickens–in the city!) So on a walk this afternoon with the kiddos, I caught myself gazing longingly at her rows of tomatoes and squares of eggplant, along with the cranberry plants and the mysterious sprigs of lime-green poking out of the earth everywhere. She noticed my curiosity and plucked a leaf off a plant and handed it to me today. It looked a lot like spinach, but when I took a bite, I was blown away. It tasted exactly like …

That's all. [Photo: lepiaf.geo]

Random: I saw this cover and instantly was 12 again. In a hyper-color sweatshirt. With bad hair (and flipped up bangs). Sipping a strawberry-kiwi Koala Springs. (P.S. I remember thinking that the girl on the cover with the pink sweatshirt was soooooo cool. I wanted

Are you a fan of Tori Spelling? I've always liked her, but I've never been a die-hard fan or anything (then again, the parents never did like us watching 90210). But then I became a mom, and she became a mom, and suddenly I think

I wrote about something called Pottery Barn Catalog Syndrome on Vitamin G a while back. Here's how I described it (quoting myself, which seems really quite weird): "When I'm flipping through these catalogs--looking at all the gorgeous and perfectly clean and tidy spaces--I start to