Guns or Dumplings.

It started innocently enough – I invited M over to be assistant chef for an evening of Hungarian dumpling-making. Specifically, plum dumplings, which require Italian sugar prune plums. It’s quite a process, that results in the kitchen, and me, being completely covered in white flour. I’m sure other people are much better at this than me. But it's a tradition. The first time I did it, I had my phone cradled in my neck, listening to my mom instruct me. I rolled out the potato dough, and then she said "ok, now turn it over." Let's just say - that was easier said then done, as the dough was pretty much glued to the countertop.

I had high hopes for successful dumplings tonight, but it turned out a gunman near the San Rafael Bridge caused a big ruckus, and the bridge is shut-down, so there will be no dumpling making tonight.

On another note, I’m noticing bellies lately. Pregnant ones. And noticing moms. My hairdresser’s daughter, who coincidentally shares my name, invited me to come to her dance performance last week. It was a BIG deal, as she went to Alvin Ailey Dance camp, and got to dance with the pros and put on a show at a big, grown-up stage – where Alvin Ailey usually performs. They had top-notch choreography and costuming and it was simply fantastic. And she was a star. Out in front, proudly doing her thing, and doing it REALLY well. Her mom could hardly stay in her skin. “Look at her. LOOK at her. Can you believe it? She is BEAUTIFUL.” At the end, the starlet came out, and was presented with roses and hugs and squeals and adoration and support from about 25 women. Twenty-five strong, gorgeous, creative role models. Including her mom. We were all like surrogate moms, all so excited for her.

When I walked back to my car, I was elated.

When I walked back to my car, I cried.

Just realizing, really, that I won’t have that. I won’t have a mom’s pride at her daughter’s success.

So now I’m committed to being part of other kids lives in a deeper way. Having lunch with “the girl next door” on Friday. She is now 18 years old, in college at the Chicago Art Institute, and a budding photographer and artist. I can’t wait to see her.