Dumpling Duty

For Nola's history class, one of her final projects was to cook a dish from Asia during a time period they were studying (Genghis Khan, Mongols, Dynasty). She decided on vegetable dumplings. With help from Brett, she totally killed them. She edited a great video, and her teacher even asked if he could put it on the history Instagram page. She titled her video "The Great Evans Cooking Show", or TGECS. Here's the video.

To the (Family Dog) Rescue

Somewhere along the developmental time-space continuum, Nola overcame her fear of dogs. In fact, she did a 180 and is now obsessed with dogs. She wants one so bad. But, alas, we would have to put Brett in the shed to avoid anaphylaxis. She scratches the doggie itch by volunteering at Family Dog Rescue, a dog shelter thankfully very close to our house. It's the only shelter around that lets kids volunteer. If she had it her way, she'd be basking the sun with dogs on her lap for hours, but I make her do the less thankful but more necessary stuff, like wash dog dishes and pick up poop. I usually have a good time once I'm there.  Here she is on Christmas Eve Day, helping out so the core staff can close up. Dog shelters are an essential service in COVID but require staffing 365 days a year, so Nola gets her dog fix and also gets the staff home early to their loved ones. Win-win.

Hangin' (Aerial Silk)

Nola is having a blast doing aerial silk lessons in her good friend, Calla's, back yard, since all classes are suspended. Nola is back at it after a 2 year hiatus. She has learned crazy moves such as the diaper drop, cross-back straddle, pretzel, scorpion, hip key, Rebecca split, catcher's hang, candy cane, split roll, crochet climb, Caesar, and more.

Halloween 2020 🎃

Hi, it's Nola! Even though it was during a pandemic, Halloween was still pretty fun. Sarek and I both went to small-group masked hangouts. Sarek went to Pacifica, as usual, to see his all-time bestie, Dexter. I went to my friend, Calla's, backyard with my friends, Zoe and Margaret, to have a masked/candy hangout. We played on the aerial silk and played with the dogs. Sarek was a unicorn (he just got a unicorn onesie from Target) and I was a purple (of course) M&M. I did my hair and makeup by myself, which I was very proud of. But it still took a while. (In the picture where I'm sitting in the silk, you can see I'm eating M&M's. Margaret said it was cannibalism. It was.)

Masky

 Sassy, moody, nasty...masky. 

 

She Got Smudged

Smudged by a campfire marshmallow. 

Happy Nappy (3/4/10)

Sleep is still a big part of Nola's day. It may not be all that exciting to the readers, but it is important to her, so it goes in the blog.

Let Her Eat Cake!

Nola digs into her first piece of cake at her birthday party....Cake Bible's triple layer chocolate cake with raspberry cloud cream and buttercream frosting. It took as long to make the cake as it did to birth Nola! Happy viewing, grandparents!

---------- Forwarded message ---------- From: Deena Mallareddy <mallardl@gmail.com> Date: Thu, Mar 4, 2010 at 11:33 PM Subject: Cake eater To: Deena Mallareddy <mallardl@gmail.com>

Not Quite Clear on the Concept

You may not know it but these are Easter costumes.

Just Enuff Chefs in the Kitchen

Nola wouj-ed (rolled out) her first chapathi all by herself.

Toil and Trouble

Double bubble, the kids play with dry ice at Amy Martin's new house.

Car Wash Splish Splash

Somehow a carwash turned into this. Nakedness soon followed.

I'll Have a Large

Deena found one Carrot to rule them all!

Wanna be birthday girl

Nola tries to co-opt Erin's party

Nola & Charly

On the First Post of Christmas

Family Time

Perry took a snap of us on Deena's birthday weekend, just making it to the blog now.
 

Happy Girls...

...After a ten tequila weekend.

Bump

From your Mother

Tina Fey's prayer for her daughter. Nola, for you.... to Braiker via Tina Fey’s new book, Bossypants: Tina Fey’s prayer for her daughter First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches. May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty. When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer. Guide her, protect her When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age. Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit. May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers. Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait. O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed. And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it. And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes. Amen.