The Barefoot Kitchen Witch

Four Cooks, One Fondue Pot

Ever had oil fondue?  If you haven’t, you really should. 

And last night – for the first time in this home – we did.  What a fun meal we had!

Make Your Own

We had salad for dinner last night. 

All four of us.

Salad and some leftover rice Bill had made the other night.

That’s all.

And everybody loved the meal.

I feel like I need to say “even the kids,” except that I don’t have that problem, for the most part.  My kids like their vegetables.  Most of their vegetables, anyway.  Enough so that if they dislike one or two, I don’t worry about it.

I know.  I’m lucky.

He Doesn’t Talk About the War Much

My dad enlisted in the navy during WWII before he was old enough to be drafted and placed where he didn’t want to be. 

I’ve seen pictures of him in those days – so young.  A skinny, smiling, dark-haired boy, either shirtless, cigarette dangling, relaxing with shipmates, or so handsome in his dress whites that my eyes prickle with tears right now, just thinking about it.

He was a boy.

Nearly all of them were.

Ten years older than Alex is now.  Not even that.

So young.

Boston Baked Beans

I don’t know why I haven’t made these until now.  So simple, so warm and sweet and savory and yummy.

The recipe is part of a collection of family-and-friend recipes my mother put together before Bill and I were married.  This one came from Bill’s mother.  Actually, from his mother’s mother-in-law.  And who knows where it came from before that. 

Someone in Boston, presumably.  Heh heh.

Firewood Camp – or – What Mom and Dad Forced Us To Do On Our Summer Vacation

While Mommy slacked off inside pretending to make beef stock and other nourishing foods, plus do laundry and dishes – OR SO SHE SAID – Julia and Alex were pressed into service as Firewood Transportation Specialists.

Thank You, Dad, For Not Poking My Eye With the Scissors That Day

When I was in the first or second grade I rode the bus home from school.

I was a very shy child – I remember being terrified going to Nursery School for the first, oh, 180 days – and so when a fight broke out between two boys in the seat in front of mine on the bus that day, and the boys were hitting each other with their metal lunchboxes, I just sat quietly in my seat, you know, like you’re supposed to.

And when one of those lunchboxes (this all happened within seconds – the bus driver did, in fact, intervene, but she probably had to pull the bus over safely to the side of the road first because we didn’t have bus monitors riding shotgun back then) hit me right between the eyes, I did my very brave best not to cry and make a scene, because I didn’t want all that potential attention.

Mozzarella with Natalie and Mozzarella with Basil

Yesterday afternoon the kids and I went to my sister’s house.  I was helping Natalie with a cooking project for school, and after we did that, I showed her how to make mozzarella! 

Crashing on the Sand

Sometimes when I’m driving around I’ll write parts of posts in my head.  Or I’ll have conversations with various people, either as a rehearsal or as a “if only I’d said it THIS way” rewind kind of thing.  Sometimes I have conversations with myself.  Sometimes the conversations I think I’m having in my head with other people are, really, just more conversations with myself.  Because, after all, the words coming from the “other” people in my head are really just me with a different voice.

Sometimes I wish they’d all – me included – shut up.

So there’s that.

Another Year Already?

About 5:30 this morning I heard a bedroom door open…then silence…and then a pair of small, bare feet scurried down the stairs. 

I was still in bed.  Bill was trying to be asleep for a few more minutes before getting up and ready for work.

I heard the bare feet traipse through the main floor, and then down more stairs to the basement.  A few moments later, those same bare feet hurried up both flights of stairs and headed toward our bedroom door.

The doorknob turned and a little girl crept into the room.

“Mama?  There aren’t any presents!”

Amazing Cake

Just want to point you all in the direction of my future niece-in-law’s blog today.  She is an incredible cake- and cupcake-maker/decorator, and this weekend she competed in the National Area Cake Show Competition in DC.  (Besides THAT fabulousness, she is also an inspiring and tough athlete.  She’s quite awesome.)

If you’ve been reading this blog for at least a few years, you might remember the adorable cupcakes she made (and brought with her on the flight to RI) in response to this unfortunate incident at our house that same summer.

Anyway, her blog is Bertie's Bakery, and you really need to go read her post about the cake decorating competition. 

You really, really do.

Go.

Go NOW!

Father and Daughter

Last night was the Father/Daughter Dance. 

Telling the Kids

I wrote the post yesterday while the kids were still at school.  I wrote it out, I cried when I needed to, and then I made some rye bread.  Because life has to go on.  Bread needs to be baked.  And, later, children get out of school.  And then they have to be told.

I was dreading that.

Wearing the Green

When my sister and I were kids, we didn’t have any green clothes.  I remember her giving me a rather odd look one day when I was old enough to go shopping for my own clothes.  I brought home a green and white striped shirt.  The horror should have been because the stripes were horizontal, but no, it’s because half the stripes were green.

Apparently my mother wouldn’t buy us green clothes because her father was Scottish and English and he wouldn’t have approved.

When the Rose Colored Glasses Broke

When my sister fell on her bike while riding over the train tracks at the other end of our street, our friend Dolores thought she was being kidnapped.

I guess Mere, my sister, must have screamed or yelled or something from just out of view, down in the dip of the road where the trains used to run, back before the town removed the tracks and made a bike path. 

And Our Numbers Increase

No, I’m not pregnant.  Two is Enough in this house.

Two human charges, anyway.

But that doesn’t seem to apply to other forms of life.

We’ve got the three cats, as you know. 

And Cricket-Catcher, the Cuban Knight Anole.

And a tank of assorted tetras and catfish and swordtails and other stuff down in the basement.

And we’ve had a series of Bettas (Siamese Fighting Fish) over the years.  First Reddy, then ReddyII, then Bluey, and most recently (and briefly), Fire, who was overtaken by a rogue fungus of some kind.  Very sad.

Well, two things have happened since I last wrote about the pets.

Day 4 – Attitash and Driving Home in a Blizzard

Our original plan for the trip was to spend the last day either at Black Mountain or at Attitash.  Attitash won.  It was five minutes down the road from our condo, for one thing, and Bill wasn’t all that happy after the broken lift at Black Mountain, so the decision was made pretty easily.

Day 1 – The Drive North and Bretton Woods

Early Tuesday morning of this week we got in the car and headed north for New Hampshire.

A Visit with Auntie: Chickens and Haircuts

These are my cute, but rather shaggy children.

Or, rather, these were my cute, but rather shaggy children. 

Well, they still are my children.  And cute.  But the shagginess is no more.

And no, I have no idea why Julia is making that face.  She’s six.  That’s all the explanation I’ve got.

So yesterday, after Natalie and I baked the pound cake, we trekked down to my sister’s house to return Natalie and her share of pound cake, to bring snacks to the chickens, and to tame the crazy hair on my kids’ heads.

As always, it was entertaining.

Chocolate Pound Cake with Natalie – Part 1

My awesome niece, Natalie, is here today, and we’ve selected a Chocolate Pound Cake as our Chocolate Baked Good of Choice.

With Julia’s Approval

On Wednesday we had yet another snow day.  No school for Bill or the kids.

Actually, snow day isn’t quite accurate.  More like sleet/freezing rain/yuck day.

Definitely not a day to frolic and play outdoors.

Scrabblephobic

Alex received Scrabble for Christmas (from Santa), and at dinner this evening he suggested we have a family game night – and all play Scrabble.

Opinions Requested

I am, of course, way far behind in sending out Christmas cards.  But I’m determined to get things going in that department.

Now, in the last bunch of years, I’ve sent out those picture cards, usually with just a picture of the kids, because they’re cute, they change yearly, so it’s good for far away relatives who don’t read this blog, and, I know I’m biased, but my kids are cute.  Well, they can be.

Anyway, instead of the usual photo of the kids, I was thinking it was time we had a family portrait done, and I thought we could use that for our Christmas card as well.

So, what do you think about this one?

Brrrrrownies with Natalie

The last time Natalie was here (not this most recent time, but the time before that), she’d found a few recipes she wanted to try, but either we didn’t have enough time or I didn’t have all the right ingredients.

Anyway, when plans were in the works to have a weekend of baking recently, Natalie asked if we could make brownies.

So we did.

Sunday Notes

 
~  Bill took the kids trout fishing early this morning.  They didn’t catch any trout, or anything else they could keep.  I’m just happy they weren’t mistaken for turkeys – it’s huntin’ season.  Yes – they were all wearing bright orange, just in case....

Baking with Natalie

I was extremely fortunate yesterday to bake with my fabulous niece, Natalie.

48 Ears of Corn

When my sister and I were kids, my mom used to put us to work at various points throughout the summer helping her prep vegetables for freezing.  She used to do a lot of canning, originally.  Probably before we came along, or before we were big enough to help.  Or before she and my father bought that really big stand-up freezer and put it in the basement.  I think it maybe just became easier to pack things in the freezer in plastic containers than to can them.  I don’t know.

All I know is, my sister, me, and our friend, Dolores, if she was at the house, became extremely cheap labor. 

It Was 48 Years Ago Today...

 

A few tidbits...

Apples and Peaches and a Tarte Tatin

We were going to dig steamers yesterday, but with all the rain, we figured shellfishing would be closed locally, so we headed out to pick apples instead.

In the past we've always gone to orchards in the northern part of the state.  This time around, Bill suggested we try the place we'd seen the signs for on Route 4.  Yes, that's exactly how he put it.  Didn't even know the name of the orchard - we just knew they had signs up, and that, in addition to apples, they had peaches.

Peaches! 

So off we went....

Feasting on Seafood

First there was the pork-fest, and then there was the seafood extravaganza.  Bill's brother, Ray, came back up for a couple of days after he and the rest of them headed down to CT to visit with Nina's part of the family late Sunday.  Ray arrived Wednesday afternoon and helped with the installation of the Anniversary Toilet, and he, Bill, Alex, and Julia went out for sushi while I was taking pictures at the beach class that night.

On Thursday, while I was being tortured fearing for my life drowning in my own saliva losing feeling in my fingers from clutching the armrests so tightly having a root canal done and a new core put in, Ray, Bill and the kids went down to Galilea, to the docks, to get some lobsters for our dinner.  They got 3 pound-and-a-half lobsters, 3 culls (lobsters missing a claw) and a dozen crabs, too.  When they returned, I was sitting on the couch reading and slurping ice cream on the side of my face that wasn't numb. 

A Recap and a Suggestion

For any of you interested, you can read my nephew's recap of swimming/biking/running this year's RI Ironman 70.3 here.

It's pretty cool to get the scoop on what was going on for him during the whole race, and he's a very informative and entertaining writer as well, so it's worth reading the whole post.

And speaking of DC Rainmaker, over at the top of the right column on my little ol' site here, there's a button to click on to help get him sent to Antarctica.  The deadline for voting is September 30th, so there's still time to get your vote in.  Voting doesn't take long, and I can't think of a better person to have blogging such a fabulous trip.

So go on!  VOTE FOR DC RAINMAKER!!!! 

 

NOW!

(Sorry to be bossy.  I have to go have a root canal in an hour and I'm stressed and cranky.)

Some Images from the RI Ironman 70.3

* My brother-in-law, Ray, borrowed my camera and shot all the swimming and cycling pictures and some of the first few running pictures.  I'll indicate when mine begin.

** One other thing - because my nephew, DC Rainmaker, refers to his AWESOME girlfriend as The Girl, and he has not (as of this posting) put up any pictures of her (except one of her skiing, and she's about a hundred zillion miles away and pretty much resembles a dot on skiis), I feel honor-bound to also refrain from posting photos of her here.  I will just say, then, in lieu of photos, that she's an amazing athelete and tremendously inspiring.  Julia, in particular, adores The Girl, and at times she refers to the two of them as "The Girl and her boyfriend," rather than "Cousin DC Rainmaker and his girlfriend." 

In fact, I have to broaden the topic here and say that ALL of these triatheletes are inspiring.  I was close to crying more than once as I watched these phenomenal men and women run past.  I am in awe of each and every one of them.

Okay, enough talk.  Time for pictures.

 

*And here's where I took over.  Can you tell?

 

We Like Big Butts

Especially when they're about ten pounds...of the pork variety...rubbed and injected and then slow-cooked (12 hours of indirect heat) on the grill/smoker, with plenty of hickory and cherry smoke.

Why, what kind of butt did you think I meant?

Pawsox Game and Fireworks

When I was in Junior High, there was a math teacher, Mrs. Smith, who was tiny and smart and tough.  She had a steely voice, steel-gray hair, and a no-nonsense, no fooling around attitude, tempered with a sense of humor that she allowed to peek out from behind her stern facade every now and then.  During class, when we'd work on problems out loud and she'd call on us for answers, if someone gave a very wrong answer, she'd kind of roll her eyes and tilt her head back a bit, like she was reeling from the awful wrongness of that student's attempted answer.  And she'd say, in that grim, steely voice "Ah, you're way out in Pawtucket!"  I went to school in the southern part of Rhode Island, and Pawtucket lies northeast of Providence, far, far from us.  (Relatively speaking.  It's Rhode Island, after all, and nothing is really THAT far from anything else.)  But that was her way of telling you just how VERY wrong you were.  So far off that you were way out in Pawtucket. 

And that's where the family and I were the other day.  Way out in Pawtucket.

The Lesson of the Carrots

Summer vacation started off with both a bang and a whimper.  Actually, not so much a whimper as lots of weeping.

Last Tuesday was the last day of the school year for both my husband, the teacher, and my son, Alex, the first grader.  Very exciting. 

After school, our kids went across the street to play with our neighbor's/friends' son.  Bill and I sat in the living room (when it hadn't yet been filled with furniture and stuff) and just hung out and talked, enjoying the relative peace and quiet.  The next day would be the big Move Everything From the Second Floor day, to be followed by the whole Sanding and Polyurethaning event, so I think we were just taking this last moment to rest on comfortable chairs with our feet up before the final upheaval began.

Anyway, Bill asked if anyone had fed the lizard and I remembered that I'd asked Alex to, but then he had to go to the bathroom and he forgot, I guess, and so did I.  So that would be a no.

By this point, the kids had moved from the back yard across the street to our back yard, so Bill called to Alex from a window and reminded him to get a worm or two for the lizard.

We went back to discussing the game plan for the next several days.

A few minutes later Alex came in, hand behind his back, and said glumly, "Well, no worms.  The only thing we could find was this."

And out came the hand, and in it, a very young carrot he'd pulled from the garden.

I cringe, even writing about it now.

Bill told Alex that the carrot wasn't ready to be pulled, and he (Alex) needed to stop showing off in front of his friend. 

You know how kids are.  They behave differently with their friends around.  They cross lines they know they shouldn't.  They stop thinking.  They walk on the wild side.  They pull an underage carrot from the garden.

Bill told Alex in no uncertain terms that he'd better not do that again, and to toss the carrot onto the compost heap because it was no good to eat yet and it couldn't be replanted.

Don't mess with the garden, kids.

So we sent Alex back out to find a worm.  We have PLENTY of worms out there, in gardens, in the compost bins.  They practically hang from the trees.  There was no reason a worm couldn't be found.

A bit later I looked out the window to check on the kids, and I noticed it looked like it was starting to rain.  (We've had mostly rain here for oh, most of June, so of COURSE it was starting to rain.  Again.)  I went out the back door just to confirm it and yes, rain was, indeed, falling.

I called to the kids and said they needed to play inside, and as they arrived at the back steps, something made me look down.

And there, on the driveway, right next to the back steps, were two carrot stalks.  No carrots.  Just the long, green, distinctive stalks.

I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach as I picked them up and looked at the three little faces.

"Who did this?" I asked calmly.

Our neighbors' son said he didn't eat any of the carrots.  Both boys pointed at Julia, who just stood there, her face a mask.

Carrots?  PLURAL?

I flew across the yard to the corner square in our 15' x 3' raised bed.  Where the carrots had been planted this year.

And I gasped as I beheld the horror.  The carnage.  The ugly slaughter of innocent baby carrots.

There were stalks and stalks with little remaining bits of carrot and some entire tiny carrotlings with their little ferny stalks...all of them scattered on the brick walk that surrounds the garden.  There were one or two carrots still remaining, and there was a deep hole in the dirt.  Oh, this was not good.

(This photo was taken several days after the carrot slaughter.  After the casualties had been cleaned up and the ground evened out a bit.  But you get the idea.  There USED to be a lot of carrots in there.)

The three kids were still standing in the driveway, just watching.  I forced my voice to sound nice as I suggested to our neighbors' son that it was time for him to go home, and to look both ways as he crossed the street.

And when I summoned my own two children, my voice was sort of strangled and choked as I planned my speech and tried to banish thoughts of Bill's reaction when he found out.  At the moment, he was inside, on the phone, ordering Chinese food for dinner from the really good place up the street. 

I don't even remember what I said. 

Something about DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH WORK YOUR FATHER PUTS INTO THESE GARDENS?  SO WE CAN GROW FOOD?  THESE CARROTS AREN'T READY TO BE EATEN!  WHY DID YOU DO THIS?  DO YOU KNOW HOW UPSET DADDY IS GOING TO BE WHEN HE--

And then there he was, coming into the yard, still unaware of the carrot massacre, but very aware that SOMETHING was very wrong.

"WHAT HAPPENED?" he bellowed.

When he saw what they'd done, he ordered Alex and Julia into the house and up to their beds.  I hollered after them to go into OUR bedroom, so they wouldn't step on the area of the floor where the patch job was.  They were in enough trouble without stepping on a fresh coat of polyurethane.  Julia hadn't committed her sin yet - that would happen the following day.  Yeah, it was a good week.

Anyway, to say Bill was angry is to say Everest is a speed bump.

He gathered up the carrot casualties and slammed them on one of the compost piles, swearing and raging all the while.

And the thing is, this story and the Julia-stepping-on-polyurethane-after-she'd-been-told-not-to-go-upstairs episode are SO rare in our house.  I'm the one more likely to yell about something.  Bill doesn't yell much.  So when he does, you'd better dive under the house.

Anyway, into the house he went, and up the stairs.  And he gave the kids an earful about his hard work and time spent in the garden, and so on.  I went around shutting windows and doors, just so we wouldn't draw a crowd.

He.  Was.  Angry.

After he was done, he came stomping through the house and went outside to relive the horror and slam some things around out there.  I stayed out of his way. 

I tiptoed to the foot of the stairs after a little while and I heard two things:

1)  Alex sobbing.

2)  Julia chattering away and giggling.

And this is the way it's going to be, I think.  These are their personalitites, in a nutshell.

Alex takes things to heart.  Raised voices are crushing to him, and it takes him a long time to get past it.  He will remember this. 

Julia...well, she's five, and Alex is seven, so there could be some sort of "the conscience isn't fully developed or even in existence at age five" thing in a child-rearing manual, which might account for her lack of tears.  Or maybe she figured Alex was carrying around enough guilt for the both of them.  Or she didn't care.  Who knows.

But when I went upstairs to check on them, Alex was curled up on the edge of the bed and Julia was basically trying to get him to play with her and annoying him in the process.  She wanted to know if they could get off the bed yet.  She was clearly unfazed.

And I would bet my pink KitchenAid food processor that she did the majority of the carrot pulling and carrot eating. 

Bill came in just about then and flew upstairs for a reprisal of his earlier lecture/tirade, just to make sure Julia, in particular, was getting the point. 

Soon after that, he drove off to pick up the food, I set the table, and when he came back, the children were summoned to dinner.

Julia came down the stairs, chattering happily about the food and basically sucking up to Daddy in her very obvious way.

Alex puddled his way into the room and insisted on pulling his chair right next to mine at the table.  He wasn't done crying yet.

And all the while Julia kept up a jolly little monologue of "Oh, thank you Daddy for getting this food!  I love Chinese food!  This all looks so yummy!  I'd LOVE some soup!" and on and on and on. 

It was nauseating.  I am ashamed to admit it, but I glared at her a few times. 

Alex stopped crying but didn't want to eat.

Eventually, though, he had a nibble of something and a nibble of something else, and realized that even though the world was about to end, his stomach was growling and the food was good, so he might as well eat.

And the rest of the night was relatively quiet.  The kids went to bed early, and we moved on.

But it was not over.

It's one thing to tell your kids "this is a lot of work."  It's much more effective to let them discover that for themselves.

And so, over the weekend, the children were introduced to a little thing Bill liked to call Hard Labor.

On Saturday they spent an hour in the 80+ degree heat weeding one of the gardens in the front yard.  It would have been longer, but they had their final T-ball game of the season to go to, and we had to stop. 

Julia kept saying she was thirsty.  Bill said too bad, this is what Hard Labor feels like.  You keep working EVEN WHEN you're thirsty.

(No, we didn't deprive them of hydration.  Julia just kept asking every thirty seconds in a rather transparent attempt to take a break from the un-fun task at hand.)

So that was Saturday's taste of Hard Labor.

On Sunday we had no obligations, so while I made cheese and jam and bread indoors, Bill and the kids worked in the gardens outdoors.

A lot.

The first thing they did was harvest the garlic.  Julia and Alex took turns.

 

I set them on a tray on some newspapers to dry for a few days, and Bill and the kids planted new things where the garlic had been.  We've now got dill seedlings there, along with bok choy seeds, scallions, lettuce, and...

carrots.

After that they also helped plant flowers in the window boxes and in the shade gardens, and eventually, after about 4 hours of work (with water breaks, don't worry), they were done.

They worked hard, and I think they have a better understanding of and appreciation for how much effort goes into a square foot of carrots.

~~~

Now, there's a funny side note to all of this.

The morning of that same Tuesday when the whole Carrot Saga began, Bill was getting in his truck to go to work, and I was getting in my car to move it out of the driveway so he could leave.  He stopped just before climbing in and yelled back to me "There are carrots growing in the lawn!"

I took a look after he'd left and sure enough, little baby carrot leaves were scattered through the grass, right at the edge of the driveway.  Weird.

We've had things grow in odd places.  We have tomatoes and cilantro that reseed themselves every year and we never know where we're going to find them.  This year we've got a pumpkin plant that showed up along the front walk, amid the hostas and irises and tulips, and there are two other squash-family plants and some tomatoes that have shown up where the woodpile was on the other side of our garage.  The side where we don't have a garden.

So baby carrots near the driveway?  Sure, whatever.

We later found out that Alex's teacher had given all the kids carrot seeds some time ago and without telling anyone, Alex sprinkled them in the grass there. 

Kind of perfect, isn't it?  So in addition to planting new carrots, Bill and the kids also carefully dug up some of these tiny carrots and transplanted them to the scene of the crime.

And you know, I think they'll be pretty safe there. 

Please Send My Nephew to Antarctica!!

No, really.  I mean it.  In a good way.

When I married Bill and married into his family, I gained, among other things, three more nephews and another niece.

I've mentioned Joe before, in this blog - he's the only one of them who lives nearby.  The others are scattered - a nephew out in the Seattle area, one in the DC area, and the niece is in Florida.

Well, today I'm talking about the nephew in DC.

Meet DC Rainmaker.

He competes in marathons and triathelons and all sorts of other "thons" and "elons" here, there and everywhere.  He also cooks, is an awesome photographer, travels extensively, and blogs about all of it. 

He also does stuff like this.

Anyway, he has entered a competition sponsored by Quark Expeditions to be the official blogger on an expedition to Antarctica.  The winner will be announced on September 30th, 2009, and the journey to Antarctica will take place in February 2010.

And I want him to win because A) it would be extremely cool (no pun intended), and B) he's my nephew, after all, and C) he'll do an awesome job blogging and photographing the trip, and we can all live vicariously through him for a few weeks.

So.

Please go vote for him.

All you have to do is register here (to prove you're a human being) and then log in and vote. 

Quick, painless, and free.

I'd be ever so grateful.

And it Begins

Or ends, depending on your point of view.

My point of view is from a dark and achy tired place.

Oh, the ups and downs of the past couple of days...I'll get to them.  Or some of them.

But today?  Today is three things.

1.  Brew day.  Nothing all that new or different - we have them periodically.

2.  Sand and Polyurethane the Floors Upstairs Day.  The day we've been eyeing on the calendar with increasing tension and franticness and, okay, yes, occasional bad moods.

3.  ........I don't remember what the third thing is.  Maybe it's Begin Our Nomadic Existence Day.  Except we're not nomads - we've got a place to crash - THANK YOU EM AND JOE!

But to back up a bit...

You may or may not remember what I did with Alex's bedroom, so here's a picture -

That was done using three different colors of paint, a sponge roller, little sea sponges, and of course gobs of my own special brand of artistry.  (I'm tired and silly today - bear with me.)

So the question on everyone's mind, I'm sure, has been "What will she do on Julia's walls?"

So here's what I did:

And no, that tv cable taped to the window isn't part of the decor - that's to keep it off the floor while the sanding and stuff is done.

Anyway, that's Julia's room.  It's not completely done - I'm still planning to have a few butterflies fluttering across the ceiling, but that can be done later.  A.P.  (After Polyurethane.)

I found the stencil in a book I've had for years called "Border Designs:  Cut & Use Stencils."  It's put out by Dover press, and I have a ton of books of theirs that I bought for quilting ideas and who knows what else.

Anyway, I'd been originally thinking of putting flowers all over her walls, but I couldn't find a stencil I liked of a rose (her middle name) and then I saw this butterfly as part of a border grouping, and that's the one I settled on.  I made copies of it in various sizes and settled on these two - the small is the original size - about 4 inches long - and the big one is the original enlarged 150%.

You can see the stencils, cut out of the heavy duty paper in the book, hanging from the window.  They're drying.  I will need to use them again, on the ceiling and probably on a bookcase that I'll repaint in the colors of her room and then stencil some butterflies on it.

Anyway, that's Julia's room.

She loves it, by the way. 

~~~

So that's one thing.

Another thing - one of the good things these past few days - is Julia is now riding her bike without benefit of training wheels OR Bill running along beside her, hanging on to her shirt collar.  Yay!

~~~

Another thing...Bill and I moved nearly EVERYTHING down from the second floor.  It's in our living room and our dining room, and there's very little space left.

Sorry it's out of focus.  Anyway, that's our living room.

Funny story about all this.  See that window?  It's also got two little windows, one on each side.  Those little windows open.  Yesterday I'd opened them, like I'd opened many other windows around the house.  And then we piled everything into the living room...and then it was time to go to bed...and the little windows were still opened.

Now, they're skinny little windows, and they face the street, so odds are no one would come along and decide to break in and steal any of our stuff.  But I knew I'd lie awake much of the night if I knew they were still open.

I'm like that.

And so, while Bill was in the bathroom, I somehow (don't ask me to describe it) managed to climb over all sorts of things including the side support things from the kids' beds, and get up onto the arm of the couch and close the near little window...and then I had to get to the far window...and...I could hear one of our neighbors across the street talking to someone outside, and all I could think of was here I go, like some caged lunatic, making my way across the back of the couch, kind of pressed up against the big window, half tilted sideways, just - oh I have no idea what I looked like, but I'm sure it was not pretty at all.  I managed to get to the window and close it.  And then I turned around and stood there, kind of helpless, trying to figure out how to escape from my predicament without embarrassing myself further.

Bill came out of the bathroom and saw me standing there.

"Do you need help?"

"Um...no..."

I managed to get out of that predicament without injuring myself, which was pretty good, considering.

~~~

And I think I'll end this now.  We've got to move mattresses and a few other things out of the bedroom and then I need to vacuum and clean the floors upstairs so they're ready to go when it's time to sand.

I'll fill you in on all the other insanity around here later.  Oh...it was not pretty....

Just the Highlights

I lost internet access for about 24 hours, starting yesterday afternoon, and it's thrown me off my stride.

~~~

Speaking of strides, this morning I participated in the 20th annual MS Walk in Narragansett, RI.  A 6.2 mile walk.  The weather was gorgeous.  I've got 3 friends who have MS.  I walked with one of them, and parts of her huge family, friends, my sister - and that was just our team.  Lots of people were out, either walking or biking it.  Good day.

~~~

Still have a ton of pictures from yesterday's Opening Day of T-Ball to post.  I'll get there.

~~~

Our nephew, Ray, will be running in the Boston Marathon on Monday.  He and The Girl are staying with us this weekend.  Last night there were 8 of us for dinner - me, Bill and the kids, Ray and The Girl, and Joe and Emily.  Bill cooked ribs.  'Nuff said.

~~~

Joe is helping us split one bedroom (Bill's & mine) into two smaller rooms, which will become the kids' bedrooms, and Bill and I will move into the one they currently share.  He (Joe) and Bill put up the framing for the dividing wall this morning while I was on the MS Walk.  There's some business going on with electrical wires now.  Lots of running up and down the stairs.  Possible drilling through the floors may be involved.  Our room is sawdusty.  Next weekend will be the MAIN weekend of this project.  I'll be glad when it's done.  The kids are excited, and seem to have actually reached an amicable decision regarding who will get which of the two new rooms.  No fights.  I recognize that this is a miracle, and I am thankful for it.  I am also incredibly thankful to  Joe for helping us out with this project. 

~~~

I think Julia has eaten 4 popsicles in the past 3 hours.  It's that kind of a day.

~~~

That's it for the moment.  Time to check the seedlings and water any that have dried out. 

~~~

Normal (or close to it) posting should resume tomorrow.

Brass

Years ago, back when Bill first got hired as a middle school music teacher, he was told he'd be teaching band.  So the summer before that first school year, he gathered an assortment of band instruments so he could familiarize himself with them enough to start teaching them to students.  Then, maybe a month (if I remember correctly) before the first day of school, he was told he'd be teaching chorus instead of band.  So a huge change of gears ensued and the assorted band instruments were loaned to a colleague who was teaching elementary school music in Connecticut.

Recently Bill got most of the band instruments back, and he trotted a couple of them out so the kids could see them and try to make sounds come out of them.  A clarinet.  A trumpet.  They're both already familiar with guitars and keyboards a bit.  Both of them liked the trumpet best.  Julia, in particular, her little cheeks puffed out huge like Dizzy Gillespie, managed to achieve some nice, loud, clear notes. 

Yesterday Bill brought home a trombone, just so the kids could see one and try to get some sound out of it....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I can't even begin to describe what our house sounded like.

Oh, and wait - there's me!

 

Wait.  I'm upside down.

 

There.  That's better.

Where We Went

So the four of us (Bill, kids, me) went up to NH for a part of this past week (school vacation week) so Bill could give his new skiis a good workout.  The kids were booked for all day lessons on two days, which freed us up a bit.

We stayed right in Laconia, near Gunstock Mountain, where the skiing took place. 

And what did I do?

Not a whole heck of a lot, really.  I mostly hung out in the Lodge while Bill and the kids were outside.  I read, I sent IM messages back and forth with my sister, and I met Bill for lunch mid-day both days.  I've never skiied, and I should.  I would like to take a lesson, but this past week I had trouble just finding a shoe I could put my right foot in comfortably, so ski boots weren't on my agenda.

The kids had a great time, and by the afternoon of the first day, Alex was actually riding up the lifts and skiing a couple of small beginner trails with his class.  He continued doing that the second day as well.  Bill skiied with him or behind him a couple of times, too.  Alex said later he could ski all day.  So he's definitely hooked! 

Julia went down a green trail once, with her class.  She was thrilled (this was on the second day) because Alex had gone the day before and she was feeling a little left out, I guess.  But she got to ride up on the lift, just like big people, and snowplow down the shallow incline with the rest of her little group.  She's getting the hang of it.  I watched her in the little beginner practice area and she maneuvered through the little turns very well.  And then, when she was supposed to slow and turn and get back in line to ride the "Wonder Carpet" back to the top, she just...kept going.  Right past me (she didn't notice I was there) and for another oh, twenty feet, until she fell over.

And just stayed there.  She wasn't hurt, or upset, or anything like that.  She was just...hanging out.  So I watched her.  She rolled up into a sitting position...then leaned over and ate some snow.  (That's how the little kids stay nourished through the day, I noticed.  They eat snow.  Must be dusted overnight with vitamins and minerals.)  Then she sat up...then she flopped down and looked at the sky.  She didn't even try to get up; she just moved her little body to various positions, patiently waiting for one of the instructors to come get her.

And then she noticed me. 

"Mama?"

"Hi, Honey."

"Mama!.........Could you help me get up?"

So I went over and picked her up, and while I was doing that, one of her instructors arrived, laughing, and reminded Julia about the whole slow-down-and-and-stop thing they'd been working on. 

Julia waved bye-bye to me and headed back to class.  I watched her a bit more and the next time she did just great, slowing and turning gently and taking her place in line.  And then she fell over.  No problem.  She just waited as one of the instructors came over to help.

After the kids' all-day classes were over Bill and I would meet outside nearby and go pick the kids up together.  The instructors gave us an overview of what they'd done that day and how well the kids had made out.  The first day I almost laughed out loud when Julia's teacher said how well-behaved and sweet Julia had been.  But I guess it's good that Julia saves all her less-desirable behavior for her parents and spares her teachers.

After getting the kids, we'd troop back to the truck and ride home, listening to the high points of the day (Alex saw a porcupine in a tree while riding up the lift!).  Then, back at the hotel, we'd change into bathing suits and go hang out in the pool for a half hour or so.  The pool room also housed a hot tub, which the kids grew to love.  Julia took to it right away, but it took Alex a bit longer to trust that the water wasn't going to burn off any important parts of his anatomy.

Then, after pool and hot tub time, we went out to eat.  All three nights we ate at the same place - Patrick's Pub & Eatery.  Wonderful place - great food - especially their chicken and the Friday night Rotisserie Lamb special.  The employees were all friendly, the beer and wine were good, and the atmosphere was warm and comfortable.  It was close by - right across the street from where we were staying - but that wasn't the only reason we ate there.  We just liked it.  It became "our" place.  If you're in Gilford, NH and need a place to dine, I highly recommend it.

OH - and speaking of food. 

The #1 reason we stayed at B. Mae's?  The waffle breakfast.  Alex LOOOOVVVVVED the waffles there when he and Bill went last year, and in the days leading up to this year's trip, he kept telling us we'd love those waffles.  In fact, he was looking forward more to breakfast than to skiing.  So we were all pumped up for waffles.  

The first morning we got up around 7, got dressed and trooped down the hall to the other end of the building where the continental breakfast was set up.  The waffles were make-your-own.  Two waffle irons going  - and a LINE.  Everyone (or mostly everyone) was there to ski, so pretty much everyone was up at the same time, trying to get their waffles before heading to the mountain.  So I made the kids' waffles while Bill got us seats at one of the long, crowded tables and poured juice for the kids and coffee for us.  Then Bill made his waffle and I didn't bother because the line was too long and we needed to get TO THE MOUNTAIN.  I finally had a waffle on our last morning.  It was...well, it was a waffle.  But Alex is insanely enamored of waffles and pancakes, so I can see why it would be a way bigger thrill for him than for me.

And I think that's about it, really.  Now for some pictures.

Oh, and for whatever reason, I didn't take ANY pictures until Thursday.  (We arrived on a Tuesday and left on Friday.)  I think I spent Wednesday alternately being mad at myself for not being able to ski and feeling wistful because even if I wanted to take a lesson, my foot wasn't going to go into a boot.  Wah, wah, wah, poor me.  Annoying.  I got over it.

Snow began to fall - heavily - on Wednesday afternoon and continued overnight and into late the next morning.  It was beautiful to watch - not so great to ski in, according to Bill.  He'd been hoping for a nice, light, fluffy powder, but it was a little too warm and the snow was wetter and heavier than he liked. 

Here's the view from the upper level of the Lodge:

 

(those are reflections of the lights inside the Lodge - not cool shots of alien spacecraft.)

 

I believe a total of 9 inches fell during that afternoon-to-morning time period.

  

The moisture layer is so heavy that you can't even see the higher peaks. 

 

Ah - must be around 10:00 now - here come the kids in their ski classes.  Julia's in that picture above.  Here's a better view....

 

Sorry for the sloppy drawing.  Anyway, Julia's the girl in the foreground - pink jacket, lavender snow pants, and a dark helmet.

 

That's better.  They all get dropped off in that building to the left - Base Camp - and then in groups they head out to the Wonder Carpet area to practice their snowplows (pizza wedges) and turns and so forth.

 

And here's Alex going by...heading back to the lift.  That's him with the red (rented) boots and his arms kind of reaching in each direction. 

 

Here he is - a little later - after going down Misfire (one of the few gentle beginner slopes).

Alex absolutely LOVED skiing.  Loved it.  He didn't want to go home.

 

Oh, and while I'm standing here shooting pictures of Alex, I was also waiting for Julia to appear.  I'd been way up in the lodge when I saw her little group actually head over to the lift.  She was going to ski on an actual trail!!  I grabbed my stuff and raced outside and then stood for oh, it seemed like an hour, waiting for her to appear SOMEWHERE.  I met up with two other moms whose daughters were in the same group, and we're all there squinting up the hill looking for our own pink-clad snow bunnies.

 

No Julia yet, but there goes Alex, back to the lift...

 

Annnnnnd...here's Alex, just coming down Peepsight - one of the steeper beginner trails.  Still no Julia.

 

Yep, there they go, back to the lift again.  He's having a blast.

 

THERE SHE IS!  She made it down Misfire.  Yay!  My big girl!

   

The teachers and kids assemble at the foot of that slope and then head back to the Wonder Carpet area.  So Julia only went down one trail one time, but still, she DID it.  Good for her!

 

Yay, Julia!

Actually, yay both of them.  They had a great time, they learned a lot, and Bill's already talking Olympic trials.  Okay, not really about the Olympics.  Still, it's hard to leave those days or even these pictures and not think (as a non-skier) - My kids are awesome! 

Anyway, that was our trip - the highlights, anyway.  I probably should have taken more pictures, but oh well, I didn't. 

There's always next year.

Don't Blink

 

Meet Vincent.

 

Vincent is a Hermit Crab.

 

And that little crumb on the paper plate above is there for a reason, not just because I was too lazy to pick it off.  It's a distance marker.  Vincent is doing sprints.

You see, Vincent - who belongs to my niece, Natalie - is in training for the Hermit Crab Summer Olympics, which are to be held this summer in Rhode Island, of all places.  Why this year?  Well, they chose to hold them on odd-numbered years so as not to steal attention away from the regular ol' human Olympics.

  

I apologize for the blurry shots - Vincent is just way too fast for my camera.

 

Vincent runs sprints every morning, and then does weight training in the afternoons.

 

Every other day he runs a couple miles to build up his endurance. 

 

Because he's in training, his diet is rather strict.  Fortunately for him, carbs are approved.

 

Anyway, I hope you'll cheer him on this summer.  The seats are sold out, but of course the games will be televised.  Don't forget to set your DVRs!

Morning at Wachusett Mountain

Yesterday morning we drove up (early) to Wachusett Mountain so the kids could have a ski lesson and Bill could see how his knee would hold up after the bit of surgery he had a couple of weeks ago.  (Long story)

I've uploaded all the pictures from our adventure to flickr, so feel free to head on over and take a look.

Here, though, are a couple to tide you over...

 

Blurry sunrise. 

 

Alex (no, I don't have an explanation for the facial expression)

 

Julia.  She loves the camera, can you tell?

 

I edited this one to zoom in more on Alex as he goes nicely down the hill.  Julia's to the left in pink and purple, waiting her turn.

 

Julia, having successfully made it all the way down the mini mountain.  I think that's a hot cocoa stain on her left knee.  From snack time.

She fell asleep within moments as we headed home.

Good day for all.

A Few Pictures From Christmas

I'm being lazy today - I've cooked and baked and cleaned and hostessed...and today is my day (I decree) to do as little as I want.

But I had to post a few pictures from yesterday.  The best parts of the day, however, were not capturable on film (or digital imagery). 

Things like my son, when he unwrapped a book about Arctic Creatures (which he'd specifically asked Santa for) he looked up at the ceiling (I guess) in the corner of the room and hollered "Thank you, Santa!" with the sincere and unselfconscious gratitude only a 6-year-old can express. 

Or Julia - when she opened the brown-and-white stuffed animal horse SHE had specifically requested - sighing "It's just what I always wanted!"

Santa and the Mrs. done good this year.

The highlight of the day, however, did not come from Santa, but from Mrs. Santa's parents, aka "Grammy" and "Papa."  Papa carried in a huge white plastic bag containing a very large - VERY large - wrapped item that Julia opened (with help)...and when she unwrapped it sufficiently to realize what it was, I swear her head nearly popped off her little princess-outfitted body.  She gasped audibly and yelp/shrieked "I always wanted this!"

And here IT is:

 

Yes.  It's an enormous pink horse.  E.  NOR.  MUSS.

Bill brought it downstairs to make some room for the humans in our living room, and later on Julia dragged it upstairs by the reins, all by herself. 

She slept with it on her bed (and all her other - much smaller) stuffed animal horsies - though I'm thinking maybe the Big Pink Horse will sleep elsewhere tonight - Julia ended up in our bed at some point, probably crowded out of her own by all her equine companions.

This morning Julia was (uncharacteristically) the last one to wake up.  The rest of us were in the living room, Alex and Bill looking at Alex's magic kit and me looking through yesterday's photos on my laptop.  And then suddenly, the Big Pink Horse came hurtling down the stairs, followed by Pinky, Julia's much-loved and flattened pink elephant.  Then Julia made her appearance. 

I'm just waiting for her to ask to bring it to pre-school one day.  Um...I think not.  The axle's broken on our horse trailer - Big Pink Horse stays home.

 

Scratchy had a Merry Christmas, too.  Here is is, chillin' in the empty box Santa brought him.

 

 

And then, of course, there was the concert. 

Originally Julia was suppposed to perform, too.  She has two "songs" (exercises, really) she can play on her pink ulelele, but sudden-onset shyness took over both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, so Alex went on with the show without her.

   

 

And then, finally, after all the wrapping paper had been cleared and the applause had died down, it was time to eat.

I only snapped this one picture - right after I set the two Yorkshire Puddings on the table (before the collapsed).  You can see a platter of sliced roast beef behind them.  And, of course, Alex is there, ready to dive in.

 

We also had a green bean casserole, sweet potatoes, turnip, and (for the non-red-meat-eating contingent) grilled chicken with a Greek-style tapenade marinade over rice. 

Next year I'm making 3 Yorkshire Puddings.  There's never enough, in my opinion.

Christmas Eve was a feast as well.  (We do Christmas Eve with Bill's side of the family, and Christmas dinner with mine).  For Christmas Eve, Bill made a FABULOUS paella, with 5 different kinds of seafood, chicken, chicken feet (yes, really), edamame instead of the traditional peas, and it was supposed to have sausage, but we both forgot it - the pan was so crowded with everything else, there were no gaps to remind us.  And we also boiled up some lobsters.  All the big claws and tails were consumed - we saved the bodies and little legs for other things.  Like, oh, the big lobster omelet Bill and I had on Christmas for breakfast.  The kids weren't interested.  Oh well.  The legs - I'm thinking little lobster cakes for dinner tonight.  And the rest of the roast beef.  Fancy-schmancy Post-Holiday Surf 'n' Turf.

And now...I think it's time to bake some bread.  I haven't in a while - all those cookies, you know.  And I'm really wanting the smell of bread baking...and, of course, the taste of the finished product.

Inside a Treasure Chest

 

Didn't do any baking today.

For one thing, I got hit with a sore throat and congestion and aches and fatigue late yesterday afternoon and I was down for the count.  And annoyed about it - I still have so many cookies to do!!!! 

But whatever.  The cookies will get baked.  I'm feeling somewhat better now.

But apart from all that, today Bill and I took the kids to the Providence Performing Arts Center to see The Nutcracker.

It's the first time we've brought them to something this special.  We take them out to eat...we have taken them to the movies...things like that.  But this is their first time seeing a LIVE!  PERFORMANCE! ON A STAGE! 

I have to be honest here - I was a little worried about how Julia would behave.  One one hand, I thought - she'll be absolutely enthralled with all the ballerinas and their pretty costumes, and we'll be obligated to give her ballet lessons and let her audition next year.  (Hee hee...that would be so cute!)  But on the other hand...she's Julia, and she's four-and-a-half, and she sometimes gets in these moods where she oh, doesn't want to do something and it doesn't matter how angry you look or how red your face turns or how much smoke pours out of your ears - she just laughs gaily and continues to do whatever it is that you don't want her to do.  That's the part I was worried about.

Alex?  Well, yeah, it's got ballerinas...but there are boy dancers, too.  And the Nutcracker himself is male, right?  Turns into a prince?  And there's Herr Drosselmeyer, the wacky mysterious godfather.  He's a major player and he's a boy, too, right?  So that's something.  And, as I told Alex excitedly this morning, there are rats, or mice!  Rodents!  Yay!

Bill took a more mature approach and talked to Alex about the music the orchestra would be playing, what instruments they'd play, some of which they'd heard the other day while watching a videotape of Disney's Fantasia.

This morning, while I was cooking breakfast for someone, Alex was going over the game plan for the day.  "Julia's going and I'm going and Mommy's going to the Nutcracker...Daddy, are you going to be in it?"

An image of my husband in tights, leaping across the stage while tutu-clad girls twirled and pirhoueted behind him, flashed into my mind.  Thank you, Alex.  You made my morning.

But it was really because of the music.  He wondered if Bill might be playing guitar with the orchestra.  No.  Sorry.  They won't have any guitarists in the pit. 

We got dressed nicely (Alex:  "I have to wear a button shirt???"), and arrived at PPAC early enough to purchase a big chocolate chip cookie for Alex and a pretzel for Julia in the lobby.  And then, after the snacks, and the all-important trips to the bathrooms for the kids, we found our seats.

When I bought the tickets, at first I was going to be frugal.  So I checked out where we'd be sitting if we bought the mid-range price tickets.  And sure, we'd be better off than the nosebleed seats, but...what if...what if we paid a bit more.  Where would that put us?

Turns out, it put us where we sat today - row M, house left, on the aisle.  We walked into the theater and walked, and walked...getting closer and closer to the stage.  Great seats.  Well worth the splurge.  And besides - I figured if we were going to bring the kids to something as new (to them) and grown-up (for them) and expect them to sit still for two hours or so, then they should be able to really see what all the fuss was about.

We took our seats, took off our coats, and the kids looked around.

Go here for a view from the balcony.  It gives you a really good look at the ceiling.

And here's a look from the back of the auditorium.  We were over there on the left somewhere.  Near the front. 

The kids looked up and up and up, their mouths open and eyes wide.  Alex summed it up:

"It's like we're inside a treasure chest!"

Fabulous, Alex.  You're right.  That's exactly where we are.

Bill and the kids played "I Spy" while I skimmed the program and looked around at all the other children - mostly girls - in attendance.  Wonderful.  I looked over as Alex was spying something...yellow...and Julia was pointing at the coiffed and shellacked hair of the woman in the row in front of us.  Julia's finger was about an inch from the hair when I pulled her arm away and gave her a look.

At long last, the lights went down and the curtain rose.

And I would like to say that the kids were, in fact, enthralled and spellbound through the whole shoe.  But they weren't.  Julia couldn't see, so she and I switched seats so she could be on the aisle.  No shellacked heads in the way.  And then she stage-whispered her questions as the party guests skipped and glided across the stage. 

"What did that girl do?"

"Where are they going?"

"Who IS that?"

"What are those boys doing?"

After I hissed each answer and shushed her, the next question bubbled up.  Oh, please don't tell me the whole show is going to be like this.

Julia knelt on her seat and turned around to look at the people behind us who, by the way, were eating peanutbutter crackers in the NO FOOD BEYOND THIS POINT auditorium.  I wanted to turn around and ask if they'd brought enough for everyone.  Instead, I turned Julia around and gave her a good, firm, meaningful glare.

Meanwhile, to my left, Alex is bobbing back and forth, trying to see between the heads in front of him.  At least he was interested.  And then, while all the guests at the Christmas party were dancing and playing and carrying on, Alex leaned his head against my shoulder.  And then he was rubbing against my arm, like the cats do when they pass by the furniture.  What the heck?

"Your sweater is nice and warm, Mommy," he purred. 

Sigh.

Things actually went pretty well, really.  I relaxed a bit about Julia - she wasn't, after all, the only four-year-old in the place, and I heard little murmers and peeps and squawks from other kids during the course of the show.  And it was pretty cute when she spread her arms and then gracefully drew them up above her head in unconscious imitation of the dancers on stage.

Julia moved to my lap during the fight between the Mouse Queen and the Nutcracker and their assorted cohorts.  I kind of expected that.  And it worked out nicely for the rest of the show; Julia snuggled on my lap, whispering her occasional questions.  Alex rubbed his head against my shoulder now and then.

They both asked "when is it gonna be done?" a few times, but since they had no idea how long something like this would last - or any real concept of the passing of time if it didn't involve commercial interruptions - then their questioning was understandable.

The ballet ended - and it was wonderful, by the way, though Bill was disappointed that there was no live orchestra - and since the kids were huuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggggggry, and because they had been well-behaved overall, we told them we'd go out to eat at a restaurant.  Yay!

As we buckled the kids into their car seats, I asked Alex if he liked the show.  "Oh, yes!  It was very musical!"  Julia liked all the ballerinas "and the fairies and the princesses" and liked the Sugar Plum Fairy the best.  Probably because of her purple costume.

A treasure chest indeed.

A Weekend of Cookies and Snowmen

 

It was a fun, busy, chaotic weekend.  This is the weekend BEFORE this current one.  I'm late in posting. 

On Friday I baked off the rest of the short dough I'd made, in a variety of kid-pleasing shapes:  snowmen, trees, reindeer, bells, angels, cats, birds, and squirrels.  Yes, squirrels. 

But because I never think there will be enough, I had to make more.  Plus it's nice to have a variety of flavors.  Originally I was going to make gingerbread cookies, but then, in my email, I got a link from Epicurious to "25 Days of Christmas Cookies."  So I clicked through the slide show, and came right back to the very first one in the group:

Chocolate Roll-Out Cookies.

I skimmed through the recipe, thought it sounded like what I wanted, and printed it out.  And that's when I noticed it.  The name in the top left-hand corner.  The recipe was published in Gourmet Magazine in December 2007.  And guess who wrote it?  Yep.  The Ubiquitous Dorie Greenspan.  I had to laugh.

And then I had to make the cookies.  I doubled the recipe, because, you know, that whole "might not be enough" thing.  And the dough - the dough smelled fabulous.  Good enough to eat right then and there, but I thought of the kids who were coming, and I refrained.

But really.  Cocoa powder AND melted bittersweet chocolate in the dough.  You can't go wrong there.  Oh, and a bit of cinnamon, too.  This recipe is a keeper.

With this dough, I cut out teddy bears, lions, more angels, bunnies, guitars, snowflakes, dogs, and cows.  Yes, cows.  In two sizes.  I love cows, and my cow cutters are actually stored with my December holiday cutters, not the animal cutters. 

 

All the kids present had a great time decorating (and eating) the cookies, both on Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning before it was time for them all to go home.

Oddly enough, I didn't take any pictures of the kids' finished cookies, which was rather stupid of me, because those are way more entertaining than the stuff I did.  Ah well.  Here are a few pictures from Saturday's decorating party...

 

This is my nephew, Calvin.  Despite his advanced years (he's 16), he seems to really enjoy doing stuff like this with the kids.  Later on, he taught them to play Guitar Hero.  He's great with children.

 

 

And, of course, we all know Julia and Alex. 

 

And this, this is Natalie, my niece.  She is an AWESOME cookie-decorator.  I mean, they all do/did a great job, but Natalie just really has a knack for it.  She made a teddy bear with a little sweater on him that LOOKED like a real sweater. 

Saturday night, Bill made paella for dinner.  It was phenomenal.

 

The next morning we awoke to snowfall.  Alex and his friend Jack, who slept over, were the first ones awake, and the first ones to look outside.  They came in and told me, and I sent them downstairs to tell Calvin and Natalie.

After breakfast, everyone went outside to play in the snow.  There wasn't a lot of it, but there was enough for a mild snowball fight and the construction of three snowmen.

 

 

   

 

 

 

All in all, a pretty near-perfect weekend.

Oh, and just to keep things on a baking theme, here are a few pictures of the cookies I decorated.  Because, you know, it's all about me.

  

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

Oh, and in case you're wondering about that not-decorated little cow in the front...look closely.  He's got an eye.  A little tiny clump of cocoa powder, probably.  Anyway, I felt he didn't require any further embellishment. 

And then I ate him.

All in all, a great weekend.

Apple Pickin 2008

 

Every fall we try to go apple picking, and we include my sister's kids in the adventure.  It sort of became a tradition a while ago, and when we go I take photos of the four cousins all together.  Sometimes the photos come out well, other times not that great, but it doesn't matter really, as long as we go. 

 

This year we went on a recent Sunday, which was also the day the Thomas and Friends cake was due.  It was a drizzly, cold, slightly foggy day.  But that didn't stop us from going, of course. 

 

We went to a farm in Smithfield - one of dozens - that we had gone to several years ago.  Got a plastic tote bag for each kid, and the guy working there showed us a map and told us where the choice apples were right now. 

 

"Follow the dirt road til you get to the power lines," we were told.  So we headed down the dirt road (once we'd located it) in search of apples.

 

There's a small family burial plot in the orchard - it's designated as Historical Cemetary #49 in the state - many of the original Knight family (who still own this orchard, I believe) are buried there.

 

I love these old, small, family plots.  Not sure why, exactly.  Just something about them that appeals to me.  Especially on overcast, drizzly October mornings.

 

Oh - and there was (on a sort of related note but not really I guess, but oh well, here goes the segue anyway) this tree stump that was all wet and dark from the rain...and every time I saw it out of the corner of my eye, it looked like a large black dog sitting there.

 

Doesn't it?  Kind of?  Well...maybe you had to be there, and in my Octobery state of mind.

Anyway, the kids and Bill picked plenty of apples and sampled a few to make sure they tasted appropriately orchard-fresh.

 

Here's Calvin trying one.  Unfortunately, I think he was eating one of Julia's apples.

 

As you can imagine, that didn't go over so well with Miss Julia.

 

So he tried to give the apple back to her.  What was left of it.

The apples themselves weren't much to look at - a lot of discoloration on the skins and weird shapes and these tiny black dots that - according to the guy we got our bags from - were because they had sprayed some sort of organic polish on them and the rain messed it up. 

 

Looks like it could use some sort of deep cleansing mask, doesn't it?

Anyway, I've run out of things to say about the apple picking.  I'll just leave you with a few more pictures from that afternoon.  And if you want to see the whole batch, you can go here  to my flickr site.

 

This is Alex sampling an apple.  You'll notice he's kind of gnawing on it with one side of his mouth.  He's got a loose tooth - top left front one - and it hurts to bite on that side.

 

Natalie and a teeny, tiny apple.

 

Julia insisted on carrying her own bag the whole time. 

 

Calvin.  He is taller than his father now.  And quite pleased about it, too.  Of course.

And one last one - all four of the cousins.

 

They all keep getting taller....

The Soundtrack Of My Life

Here's what I'm listening to right now, while I wait for the water to boil so I can cook pasta:

Alex is watching Sponge Bob on the tv.

Bill is playing guitar and singing "Landslide" - he doesn't sound quite like Stevie Nicks.

Julia is enthusiasticly honking on a duck call device that Bill keeps among his toys at the bar downstairs. 

Now he's trying to sing "Silver Spring." 

It really isn't meant to be sung in falsetto.

The Family That...

One by one, we all fell this weekend.  Well, Alex had already had his moment on Friday.  I also had a sore throat that day, but it wasn't as important to me as Alex's breathing, so I tried to ignore it.  By Saturday, I was the more miserable one, and then on Sunday - the day we had a yard sale, of course, Bill woke up sick.  Setting up and manning a yard sale when you're both congested and achy and miserable isn't the most enjoyable way to spend a weekend day, but it had to be done.

Fortunately Alex was greatly improved and mostly back to his normal cheery energetic self.  The kids wanted to have a lemonade stand, so we got that set up once the sun was a bit higher in the sky and the air was warm enough for people to actually want a cold refreshing glass of something.  They charged a quarter a glass (though Julia tried to sell it for three dollars at one point) and made $2.75.  I think they would have made more than that, but there were lulls that lasted a bit too long for the attention span of a 6-year-old entrepreneur and eventually Alex lost interest and went across the street, with Julia, to play with their friends. 

It was a beautiful day - perfect for a yard sale, or anything else outdoors - except that as the sun crept higher in the sky, my shady sitting area on the west side of the house grew smaller and smaller, and eventually I had moved the chair way back beside one of the recycle bins.  I was hot and my own entrepreneurial enthusiasm had disappeared along with the lemonade crew.  The last straw walked up the street in the form of two very-limited-english-speaking maids from the hotel way at the other end of our neighborhood.  They had apparently wandered all the way down my street on a break just to pick over my remaining junk and talk to each other in Spanish. 

I wish I was fluent in another language, but if it's not something said frequently on Dora the Explorer, then I don't know it.  Unfortunately neither of these ladies was saying goodnight to the frogs ("Buenas noches, ranas!") so I was definitely in the dark about whatever they were saying.  One of them spoke about as much English as I speak Spanish, so she occasionally would ask me a price or some other question and then translate to her friend.  Actually, she wasn't really asking - it felt more like I was being interrogated.  But I figured maybe she was just in a hurry. 

And then she pointed at the lemonade stand and demanded to know something, so I said "a quarter...twenty five cents," thinking they were thirsty after their hike from one end of the street to the other.  it was mid-day, and the sun was beating down.  It seemed a logical question.  She said something to the other woman and then looked back at me, pointed at the lemonade stand again and said "one."  So I obediently poured one glass of lemonade and brought it back.  She looked up from my table of kitcheny stuff and glared at me, shaking her head.  She didn't want it.  Her friend didn't want it.  I have no idea what she wanted, and my head was starting to hurt more and my shady spot was gone and I didn't like being ordered to do things that I couldn't understand.  So I stalked away with the plastic cup of lemonade and resisted the urge to throw it up the driveway.  That would have attracted yellow jackets, and I've had enough of them this year.

I'd also, clearly, had enough of the yard sale.  I don't enjoy yard sales.  It's probably why I don't have them all that often, and probably why I started dragging my heels as time drew me closer to the actual yard sale date.  I don't like haggling, I get annoyed when people try to talk me down on the price of something - it's ALREADY cheaper than dirt! - and smiling politely for any great length of time makes my face hurt.  Combine that with the feeling that someone was inflating a balloon inside my skull, and it really wasn't the best possible scenario.  But I tried.  I had remembered all morning to say "Hello!" in a friendly manner to the people who stopped by to pick things up and put them back.  I was gracious and grateful when someone actually bought something.  And a few people were genuinely nice to talk to.  But still.  As the day wore on, the yard sale got old.

At long last, the women settled on some stuff to buy, and the bossy one glared at me again and said "Bag!  Bag!"  I scurried inside the house to see if we had any kind of a bag big enough for her to tote her stuff with, and brought out the largest paper bag we had.  Was I supposed to provide bags?  No one else had demanded them.  Oh I hate it when my head hurts - I get stupider and stupider.  And it was when she ordered "Bag!  Bag!" again, so her uncommunicative friend could carry HER measly purchases that I realized I needed to close the store.  I stomped inside, grabbed one of the paper bags from where I'd tossed them earlier in my frenzy of obedience.  I stomped back outside and handed the bag to Bossy Lady.  And then I stood there and scowled until they disappeared up the street. 

And then I went inside (Bill was lying down) and suggested we leave some of the stuff at the foot of the driveway with a big "FREE!" sign and bring the rest of it inside.  I was pretty much done.

So that was Sunday.  Bill got up and helped me pack up the store, and then we both went inside and did little else.  I don't remember what we made for dinner.  I think the whole thing was a la carte, with whatever looked edible in the fridge. 

And Monday morning, early, it was Julia's turn.  She woke up crying around two, and when I went in to check on her, she felt pretty hot.  Lovely.  I brought her downstairs, gave her some Tylenol, and we sat on the couch and watched two hours of tv.  I brought her back to bed at 4 and kept her home for the day.  Bill stayed home.  I was - of course - home.  Alex went back to school.

Today both kids are at school - Julia, in fact, has become an adult somehow and miraculously dressed herself without asking for help, brushed her own hair to the best of her ability, and marched herself into daycare without a goodbye kiss.  I had to grab her head and kiss it just to prove I was still boss.

Bill's home for one more day.  And I'm on the mend.

So weird for all of us to get sick together like that.

I choose to blame the yard sale.  Yeah, I know, the timing doesn't line up.  I don't care.  I still blame the yard sale.

~~~

P.S.  My Tuesdays with Dorie post and pictures will be up later today.  Some time after I've baked and photographed this week's recipe.

Detour

Oddly enough, it was the expression on Bill's face that started the whole thing.

I had steeled myself against any emotions, any bending of will, any...softness. 

But then he looked over at me with that...that look. 

All my steel crumbled.

And things spiraled off in a very different direction from any we could have imagined this morning.

But that came later.

First thing today, we set off, with the kids, to go pick yet more blueberries.  I picked around five pounds or so this morning - not as many as last time, but we didn't stay as long, either.

Next, big treat for the kids, we got Ronald McD food and ATE IT IN THE CAR.

Yes.  Ate it in the car while we drove to Attleboro to go to the Capron Park Zoo.  The kids and I all had our cameras, naturally, and what a sweet little zoo it was.  Kind of like our own beloved Roger Williams Park Zoo, only smaller.  And their big draw, at least at the moment, is that they have a white lion.  He's not purely white, but definitely white in comparison to his two tawny female cohorts. 

 

His name is Ramses.

The lionesses are Nyala and Kayla.  I don't know which is which.

There were also the usual (I'm so jaded) emus and kangaroos and tortoises (tortoi?)...and a really nice little Tropical Rain Forest with all kinds of interesting looking birds...

Like this one...

And this one...

And especially this one...

Not to mention these two...

The most entertaining creatures (besides the two pictured above) were the sea otters in the North America section.  They were playing and splashing about in the water, just having a grand old time. 

I kind of wanted to jump in there and play with them...

Anyway, after we saw all the animals, Bill and the kids had some lemonade.  Bill had your traditional lemon-flavored lemonade.

Julia had cherry...

And Alex had raspberry.

Scary, I know.

And then the kids played for a while on the Capron Park Zoo's huge playground.  Bill and I hung out in the shade. 

And then we all trooped back to the car.

As we were leaving, Bill asked if I wanted to stop at the gardening place and I said no, because I thought he meant the little garden area on the Capron Park land.  Then I realized he meant this organic gardening supply store, and I said okay.  I love the smell of farm stuff.

The store was just a few minutes' drive from the zoo, so we were there quickly.  We all got out and headed in.  The store is in a big old barn, and with all the hay and feed and seed, it smells pleasant (to me) and earthy and inviting.  The main "store" part was through a door to the right.  Inside, they had organic pet foods, wild bird seed, and, over by the cash registers, canning supplies.  I didn't even get a look at the rest of the store - who knows what other goodies they had in stock.

We wandered up an aisle, and I tried to keep the kids close by - they had zipped up the aisle to my left.  We met up at the end of the shelves, near a rustic, spiral staircase in the corner.  And build into the underside of the stairs was a large cage.  And down at the bottom of the cage, the kids saw these:

Alex wanted to take a picture of them with his camera, so I took one with mine, too, as a backup, in case his didn't come out okay.  Of course, no one was there to back me up, and mine isn't all that great either, now that I look at it.

Bill went back out to the seed n feed area to read organic fertilizer labels and a few minutes later the kids wandered around a corner and discovered these guys:

(Again, I took a picture in case Alex's was blurry...but mine isn't so sharp either.)

I kept telling him, it's not a zoo!  You don't need to take pictures!  But he didn't listen.

The two kittens were more interesting anyway.  Probably because they had more room to move around.  The bunnies - there were five or six of them - were in a pretty small cage.

Bill still wasn't back, and I was ready to get going, so the kids and I went looking for him.  He wasn't out there in the sweet-hay-smelling outer area, so we went back in, peeked up and down the aisles, and then the kids lost interest and went back to watch the kittens.  I told them to stay put and went back down one aisle to look in the wild bird seed room.  And that's where he was.  Just standing there.  He's decided to go completely organic with the lawn (we're already organic in the vegetable gardens and about 90% with the flowers, so this was inevitable, but he has to make these DECISIONS sometimes).  I said "Great.  We didn't know where you were, by the way." (I'm sweet, I know) And headed back to make sure the kids hadn't been sold to a traveling circus.

Bill, he of the longer legs, moved on ahead of me and saw the kids playing with the kittens, their small fingers poking through the chicken wire.

And that's when it began.

That's when he turned, and looked at me, and gave me that look.

The look that said "They're so unbearably cute!"

And I looked back at him sympathetically, because yes, they were.  The kittens.  And the kids.  And especially the kids IN COMBINATION WITH the kittens.

And then we had an entire conversation with our eyes and eyebrows. 

It went something like this:

Him:  They're so cute!

Me:  I know...sigh.

Him:  Wouldn't it be fun to bring them home?  The kittens, I mean.

Me:  Yeah, it would.  Ah well.  Some day.  (Inside I was all "ohmygodohmygodpleasepleasepleasethey'resoCUTE!!!")

Him:  Yeah, you're right.

Me:  Why...were you thinking of...?

Him:  Mmmmmmmmmmmm...wellllllllllllllllllllll....I don't know maybe................

Me:  Well if YOU want to...

Him:  Hmmmmm

Me:  We'd have to take them both.

Him:  (no expression, but I found out later he'd thought the same thing from the start)

Me:  They're probably brother and sister (by way of explaining why we would need both)

Him:  (I must be losing my mind) Mmmmmmmmmmm

Me:  ??????????????????

Him:  I can't believe we're going to do this.

Me:  HEE HEE HEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Me either.

Really.  Okay, NEARLY all of that was done with eyes and eyebrows.  The actual whispered words started with me saying we'd have to take both.  Also, at some point, the kids came over, chattering about the kittens, and we shooed them away so we could hold a terse, loudly whispered conference.

And that's what happened today.  Totally out of the blue.  Bill went over to talk to the people behind the register, and I hung out with the kids, giddily not saying a word about what was going on.  It was so much fun.  The KNOWING and their NOT knowing what was to come.  I love that feeling.

The owner of the store came over to where the kids and I were, and he had one of those little red laser things - he directed the little red spot of light onto the floor in front of the kittens and we watched them bat at it with their tiny paws.  Alex begged for a turn.  And then Julia did.

And then Bill came over, and right about then, Alex turned to say he WISHED we could bring one of the kittens home.

And we said "Okay.  How about both?"

And his eyes and mouth became enormous Os, and I'm telling you that look of stunned joy already forgives any damage the kittens do to my hands and legs as they learn when to use their claws and when not to.

Alex told Julia, but it took a bit longer for the message to sink in with her.

Next up, time to get the kittens - they are brother and sister - out of their cage and into a couple of boxes for the journey home.  The owner picked up the little gray one - the girl - and brought her into the room where the cash registers were.  She was bundled into a cardboard box with some slits cut into the sides, and the top was taped shut.  Another man came over to get the white-with-assorted-spots-and-patterns one.  That one was the boy.  And that one was NOT pleased AT ALL to have his routine interrupted.  He flailed his legs out, kind of like a lobster splaying his big claws and stretching out his tail right before you put him in the pot of boiling water.  His little claws were out, too, and he ripped the man's hand pretty deeply a couple times until the man let go and the little guy scurried behind a barrel of dog biscuits.  The girl behind the register came around and got the kitten by the scruff of his neck, and he didn't scratch her at all.  He, too, was popped into a newly ventilated cardboard box and locked in with a strip of packing tape.

I filled out paperwork while Alex and Julia laughed at the selection of greeting cards in a rack nearby.  Bill stood nearby, a dazed look on his face and a free bag of kitten food in his arms.  The kittens have already been seen by a vet and have had their first round of shots.  We got vouchers for about half price for their future spay and neuter adventures.

And home we went.  The two kitten boxes on my lap.  I tried to send out soothing, loving thoughts to the little male.  The girl behind the register had told us he tended to be a bit shy at first.  That's okay.  I'm good with shy kittens.

We drove home and along the way asked the kids what they thought they might name their pets.  You may have already surmised that the boy kitten is Alex's and the girl kitten is Julia's.  You would be right.  Anyway, I told the kids they didn't have to choose names immediately, but they already had names picked out.

So, without further ado, I give you

Scratchy (the boy cat) (named by Alex)

And Softy (the girl cat) (named by Julia - "because she's so soft" - and because Julia's four and that's how she names everything.)

They're about 9 weeks old, and AREN'T THEY CUTE??????????????

Sorry.  I tried to control that but I couldn't help myself.

We let the cats out of their boxes in the kids' room after we'd put out food and water and set up a temporary litter box.

They both beelined under Julia's bed and we all sat on Alex's bed waiting for them to start to explore.

Softy is the bolder one.  She's already friendly with us, rubbing up against our ankles and mewing her tiny, squeaky little meows at us.  Scratchy hangs back a bit, checking out the situation before venturing forth.  After they got a bit comfortable, they started playing together.  And oh, it's been SO long since I've watched kittens play together.  They're hysterical!  Stalking and creeping and leaping...running and then skidding out of control across the hardwood floor...tapping at the kids' stuffed animals with their dainty front paws...Scratchy boldly attacking the laces of Bill's sneakers. 

We originally planned to keep them in the kids' room for a few days before introducing them to Blur, my seventeen-year-old one-eyed tabby,

but then I figured Julia would probably wake up at three in the morning, as usual, and forget about shutting the door behind her and the kittens would be out anyway.  So after dinner we opened the door.  Blur had a look at the little varmints and wasn't all that interested, although later she kind of skulked away nervously when Softy ventured into the basement.  Scratchy, to my knowledge, is still in the kids' room. 

Alex is a little concerned that Scratchy isn't as chummy as Softy, but we're explaining that it's such a big, scary experience for such a tiny kitten...he'll come around when he's feeling secure.  But I have to give Bill credit for coming up with the best analogy - he asked Alex "Were you a bit scared on your first day of kindergarten?"  Alex said yes, a little.  And Bill said "Well, this is kind of the same thing for Scratchy.  But just like you, he'll be fine."

It's a quarter to ten now, the Sox and Angels are playing and unfortunately we're losing.  Our kids made a couple of trips downstairs after Bill put them to bed.  The kittens apparently didn't that lights out means "stop playing and go to sleep" and their noisy acrobatics were keeping the kids awake.  But Julia's last visit was a while ago, so I'm thinking both sets of brother and sister are sleeping now.

Our family has grown - completely unexpectedly.  I believe it was fated.  We weren't seeking a pair of kittens, but we could not have left them behind.  We can play lots of "what ifs" - I wasn't even going to go with Bill and the kids originally, but the white lion kind of dragged me by the camera strap.  What if I'd stayed home?  Would Bill have decided to get the kittens?  He was definitely planning to stop at that garden supply place, so he'd have seen them....

Ah well.  Who cares.  They are here.  And after a bit of Buyer's Terror, Bill says he's glad we have them.  And so am I.  And of course the kids are.

I'm not so sure about Blur.

Anyway.  That's what's been going on here today.

Food-related posting will resume tomorrow.

Fireworks, Farmers' Market, and the Fourth

 

Wednesday night our family and another family (my son's best friend and his parents) went to watch the Pawtucket Red Sox play the Syracuse Chiefs (we lost 6-5) at McCoy Stadium. 

And there were fireworks after the game.  It's a four night event that runs, I think, the 2nd through the 5th.  It was sold out on Wednesday, and we had free tickets, as that night's fireworks display was sponsored by Dave's Marketplace, and each store had 300 tickets to give away.  Woo hoo! 

They were general seating/bleachers tickets, and we should have gotten there earlier than we did - we ended up walking all over the place looking for 7 seats together or 3 and 4 together...no luck.  So we ended up sitting on the bleachers out near right field.  And that was probably for the best, as the kids could get down and run around a bit and work off some of their excess energy.

 

Scupcakes

Earlier this week we went fishing off the rocks - the East Wall in Point Judith.  Bill actually did most of the fishing, as it's a little dangerous for the kids to be reeling fish in and standing on the wet rocks while the waves crash against them.  But the kids played on the sand and calmer water on the other side of the wall and occasionally Alex would get to reel in a fish part way, and then Bill would take over so the fish wouldn't smash and scrape against the rocks.