Soup Dumplings

I intended to knit a pair of chunky fingerless gloves this season. I finally bought the materials in mid-February. It is now mid-March. Still no gloves. Each time winter weather made a comeback I thought, "Great! I still have a chance to wear these things if I can just bang them out in a few days!" But this type of thinking is irrational. It implies free time, control over use of such time, and immunity from interruptions, invasions by sticky fingers, and cries for help from the bathroom or kitchen.

This past weekend Niki was in NY. Emi and I headed downtown to meet her and wander through Soho and Chinatown. My head starts filling with plans. A new lipstick at MAC! Perhaps a dress for Dylan's wedding? Something pretty and sparkly from a local artist hawking her wares on the sidewalk! I've had my heart set on Soup Dumplings from Joe's Shanghai ever since Jose sang their praises when we first moved back to NY. It was my secret agenda- once I knew we were heading to the vicinity of Grand and Lafayette, I thought it wouldn't mean much more trouble to get to Joe's and finally sip the broth out of a soup dumpling. I'm sure you can guess how this turned out. It was further away than I thought. And once there, I ordered the wrong dumplings. I didn't even see them on the menu, and yet every person sitting around us were slurping away on the little sacks of goodness. But really, I realized at the end of the meal, Emi wouldn't have eaten them. They would have been too hot and messy and I would've spent more energy helping her eat them that I wouldn't have enjoyed them myself. In the end, Emilia ate up the steamed pork dumplings we had. She thoroughly enjoyed herself. And Niki and I actually got to have a conversation. I didn't find a dress (we only hit one store, and Emilia showed off her inner 'Carrie' , delicately handling the expensive vintage shoes, trying to sell each pair to me like a pro. The salesgirl, so impressed, showered Emilia with forbidden bubblegum and a gobstopper, which she promised not to eat until she is 6 years old). but watching Emi in the Soho boutique, all charming and precocious (both the store AND Emi) was priceless. No lipstick. But Niki bestowed upon me a pair of funky earrings she bought from a local jewelry designer who hawks her wares at a Soho flea market. As a gift, these earrings are more beautiful than if I had bought them myself. Emi went seven hours without the stroller and barely complained. The day was full of moments that made me look at her in awe and admiration.

I'm flying to Barcelona in April, just me and Aaron. Perhaps I'll knit those gloves on the flight.