Milestones Missed and Miles to Go

Sophie started walking at 13 months (yes, two months ago).
She said her first real word around the same time: Ball
But don't worry, you haven't missed anything: she's still toddling around and saying Ball.
Baaaaaallll.
That's what it sounds like.
Morning, noon, and night.
Nothing but Baaaalll. Baaallll. Baaaaaaaaall.

She also enjoys taking objects out of one container and putting them into another container. Including herself.

Declaration of Independence

Yes, the price of gas has risen sky high, violence has escalated in Afghanistan, people are losing their homes due to the mortgage crisis, but you've been up at night wondering why Prairie Cate has remained mum for so long. Well gentle readers, it's summertime, time for playing outside until the fireflies light up the woods and filling up the kiddie pool with the garden hose, not time for sitting inside in front of the computer (so yes, basically, I've been lazy and apathetic).

But never fear, I could never desert you, when there are luscious baby pictures to post. We spent a very laid back fourth of July hiding inside away from the stifling high plains heat, then went to Old Fort Hays in the evening to listen to an Old Western duet on the prairie. We went home early, ate spaghettios for dinner and put the baby to bed. Then when it finally turned dark outside, we woke her up again and watched the local fireworks from our front porch.


Little bitty baby, great big sky.

Sophie at the Ritz

Sophie and I spent the past week in Sarasota, Florida, courtesy of Florida Studio Theatre. The theatre brought me down for a play reading and were gracious enough to make it possible for baby to come along as well. We had the weekend off and spent it poolside at the Ritz Carleton, which was a short walk from artist housing. Sophie loved being in the pool, although I had to keep a firm grasp on her, as she kept trying to swim away--an action that did not help to assuage my baby drowning phobia.

The adorable watermelon bathing suit is courtesy of Donno, of course, and I think it's pretty much to die for cute. I used to ponder the existence of God, the nature of art, as well as read a fair bit, but now, I admit, I live for swoon-inducing, adorable baby girl clothes. Yes, it's come to that.

City Mouse, Country Mouse

Sophie's weekend in New York was pretty magical, birthday party aside. She was lovely on the plane trip, despite a three hour drive to the airport and a two-legged itinerary. On Friday, we all woke up late, then lunched in Union Square on our way to Carl's favorite destination in all of Manhattan: The Strand (18 miles of books, for you non-New Yorkers). After the bookstore, we met Martha and Bryan for dinner at Penelope's in Grammercy Park, then I went to the Women's Project, baby in tow, while everybody else went to see Patrick Stewart in Macbeth on Broadway (I was a little jealous, I admit). That night, as Carl, Sophie and I slept in the same room, the bedroom window casting stripes of light and shadow across the bed, I thought how beautiful and fragile it all is: To sleep in the city with my love and my baby, while outside the taxi cabs flick their vacancy lights on and off again.

I returned to Hays to discover that my Mother, superwoman that she is, had planted a lovely flower garden in my front yard while taking care of Sophie. She adorned the front steps with charming planters filled with geraniums, which Sophie immediately tried to eat. It's hard to beat the South in the springtime, with all that luscious, burgeoning color: azaleas, daffodils, dogwoods, magnolias, tulips, you name it. Yet after a long, gray, treeless winter on the plains, the bright green fields and flowering redbud trees seem equally magnificent.

Next, The Party

I admit I haven't attended many one-year-old birthday parties, but surely Sophie's ranks up there as one of the best. Her Daddy flew with her to New York City, so she could spend her first birthday with me. We gathered in Central Park at eleven o'clock with many of my friends and their children (including Barnaby Williams and Harper and Lyra Smith Kois), where we opened presents, ate amazing cupcakes from an Upper Eastside Bakery and basked in the sun for almost three hours. Even the Pope made an appearance (well, he was in the neighborhood anyway, as evinced by the NYPD helicopters buzzing overhead).

Once again, our dedication to the art of photography failed us, but luckily my friend and professional photographer, Jane, was there to pick up the slack. Look forward to seeing some fantastic photos soon. In the meantime:

Sophie was showered with presents, including some great books and Mr. Bacon and Mr. Toast (stuffed creations in the shape of...you guessed it.)

Sophie LOVED eating her cupcake. She went for it with full gusto, grabbing fistfuls of icing and even going down for a nosedive into the yellow cake. Yum!

Here she is with Harper, a few months younger but just as cute.

Any ideas for next year?

First, The Play

My pictures from New York aren't the best, but at least my dear readers will get a small sense of our amazing trip.

crooked opened Off-Broadway at the Women's Project on April 20. I had a lot of visitors over the weekend: Carl brought Sophie up for her birthday (April 19), my sister, Martha, and brother-in-law joined us for the festivities, and friends Shala and Darrell flew in from Hays. So many of my friends in New York came to see the play (some for the third time), and I felt completely supported, encouraged and loved. Thank you everybody for helping to make my Off-Broadway debut so memorable!

With Shala and Darrell outside the theatre.

My good friend Korey came up from Washington D.C. to see the show and to meet Sophie.

And while the show of support from my friends and family truly made the weekend, this review didn't hurt either:

http://theater2.nytimes.com/2008/04/21/theater/reviews/21croo.html

Go Heels!

One of my favorite things about Hays, America, is the little bakery located just five blocks from our house. I often go there in the morning to write and partake of their lovely cups of coffee and cherry pastries. Chad Augustine, the owner along with his wife, has never set foot in North Carolina, yet has more Tarheel spirit than many actual Tarheels. His enthusiasm every March for Carolina basketball awakens my own sleepy school spirit. Today, he sported his national championship shirt, mocking all his Jayhawk customers, so I wore my UNC hat too, for solidarity. Chad sports a true blue Carolina tattoo and plans to gets another if we go all the way (something I won't be doing for solidarity, but applaud him all the same.)

Any cross-country traveling Tarheels, you gotta stop by Augustine's Bakery and thank Chad for cheering us on all these years, and whenever he manages to make it to North Carolina, we need to roll out the red carpet.