Striking a Chord

(Or should it be sounding, since it's about yelling not spanking?)

I saw an article this morning on parents who shout. This is me:

Many in today’s pregnancy-flaunting, soccer-cheering, organic-snack-proffering generation of parents would never spank their children. We congratulate our toddlers for blowing their nose (“Good job!”), we friend our teenagers (literally and virtually), we spend hours teaching our elementary-school offspring how to understand their feelings. But, incongruously and with regularity, this is a generation that yells.

“I’ve worked with thousands of parents and I can tell you, without question, that screaming is the new spanking,” said Amy McCready, the founder of Positive Parenting Solutions, which teaches parenting skills in classes, individual coaching sessions and an online course. “This is so the issue right now. As parents understand that it’s not socially acceptable to spank children, they are at a loss for what they can do. They resort to reminding, nagging, timeout, counting 1-2-3 and quickly realize that those strategies don’t work to change behavior. In the absence of tools that really work, they feel frustrated and angry and raise their voice. They feel guilty afterward, and the whole cycle begins again.”

Sound familiar? I'm one of those helicopter parents (trying desperately not to hover too close) who doesn't believe in spanking, who really prefers "time-in" discussions of feelings and actions to timeouts, but who sometimes finds herself yelling to get attention and action. And I don't like it. Timeouts haven't been working well for us, mainly because the kids refuse to go and I can't physically force them because of actual worries about my back and philosophical concerns about using physical force, similar to spankings, to achieve results. So, I resort to putting toys in timeout instead. And this whole, completely ineffective negotiation begins--"You have a timeout. Go sit in the timeout spot"--"I'm not going!"--"Go to timeout or I'll put a toy away"--"Which toy?"--"I'm not telling. Go to timeout!" AGGGGGHHHHH. It's asinine. And so sometimes I yell. Or I yell when they are fighting like cats and dogs, wrapped up in each other's arms and legs, intent on hurting each other and I can't pull them apart--yelling makes them stop long enough to separate. My goodness, I knew it was bad the day I yelled at them to stop yelling! Even as I did it, the irony did not escape--or stop--me. (Insert the required statement that I really don't yell that much, certainly not everyday, just a couple of times a week. But I'm not sure either of us would believe me. Let's just say it's not everyday but more than I like).

But out of guilt that I am out of ideas, that I am sometimes not the parent I want to be, I apologize after I yell (though usually not until after everything has died down). And they apologize that they were acting up and acting out. And so some progress--is that what it is?--is made. Recently, though, I've altered my timeout strategy somewhat: I'm not arguing with a 4-year old over going to timeout. So I've eliminated the issue of "go," of where timeout--that way I need not figure out how to move them--they choose the spot as long as they aren't near their sibling or playing with toys. Suddenly, there is less to argue about and they just do it (grudgingly, of course). It's working like a charm now. And the need for it is decreasing as my consistency with the strategy increases. I think, by letting them choose the spot, it's more like Dr. Rao's Sendakian time-away than a timeout.

Of course, the NVC-er in me recognizes that all coercion, even if it's more civilized than yelling, is a form of violent communication. And I've read about unconditional parenting and using reason and love. And I believe in it and do it. I'm even getting much better at it. And so are they--they can identify their feelings and say what they need. But when it doesn't work, when I'm out of ideas and out of patience, when they are still fighting, when we are all beyond talking and thinking and reasoning, the only thing left is to yell. And, in the silence that follows, to say "sorry" and start again . . . .

A Family Day

Mama took a half-day off yesterday, both because everyone is experiencing a bit of family-time withdrawl after our long vacation and because she is working all day this Saturday and wanted to break up the week. Also, we realized we hadn't been apple or pumpkin picking yet and have few weekends left to go.

Apple picking is something we like to do every year, enjoying munching different apple varieties as we wander the orchards, with surrounding views of beautiful fall colors. Yesterday, we discovered several new types we like: Sis preferred crunchy and sweet Macouns (which made her giggle when Mama called them "raccoons" to help her remember the name); Bud liked the huge Jonagolds, finishing an entire juicy apple that had to be bigger than my two fists together. We also really liked the Crispin-Mutsus. But we really didn't like the Ida Reds or Red Delicious. We didn't see the Fuji rows until we were leaving, but we can get those, and our old Gala staples, at the grocery store.

The first time I saw an apple tree I was almost 23 years old. And truly, I had trouble believing that apples grew on trees, having rarely seen fruit trees. I took it on faith, just like snow (which, until I was well into high school, I believed fell automatically as soon as it was freezing out, not understanding that snow comes in storms like rain). But, Gommie and I were leaf-peeping in the Hudson River Valley during my first year of grad school and decided to pick our own. And there they were--apple trees. I had never been much of an apple eater, having only know those nasty, mealy grocery store Red Delicious, but found fresh apples right off the tree to be one of my favorite foods ever.

And I think the kids are finding the same. They probably each downed 2 apples yesterday, in the orchards alone, and then another at home last night. And they've already had two today. Later, when the apples aren't at their peak (even though we're keeping them in the fridge where they'll last almost 10x longer), we'll make apple sauce and apple pie and other apple treats. But for now, they're best just cold and crunchy.

After apple picking (and visiting the market, where we also fed the ducks), we headed to the pumpkin farm. Sis wanted sugar pumpkins to bake in pies and cookies--pumpkin is her favorite flavor after chocolate. Bud just enjoyed playing and pushing the cart. I chose some spaghetti squash, butternut squash, and buttercup squash (pumpkin?) to roast and make in soups. Plus, the kids chose gourds and a big pumpkin to decorate for Halloween. We went on a nice long hayride and then headed home. But we'll be able to enjoy the bounty of our family day for days and weeks to come.

Comfort Food

I miss all the good Texas food we ate on our vacation. Sure, most of it wasn't homecooked--we never cook as much as we mean to--but most of it was good. And so, upon arriving back in Connecticut, the first thing I really wanted to do was cook something. With a bag of Camellia red beans which I'd picked up at the store down there--the only beans our friend Miss B said should be used for red beans and rice--I made a pot of vegetarian red beans and rice. And it was just what I wanted and needed, a little bit of home at home.

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Vegetarian Red Beans and Rice

1 onion, chopped

3-4 stalks celery, chopped

1 green bell pepper, chopped

2-3 cloves garlic, minced

olive oil

1 lb red kidney beans (Camellia band recommended), rinsed and sorted

8-10 cups water

1-2 bay leaves

1-3 tablespoons Creole Seasoning (I use Tony's)

1/2-1/2 teaspoon liquid smoke

Saute onion, celery, bell pepper, and garlic in olive oil until softened. Add beans, water, and bay leaves. Note: I do not pre-soak or quick soak the beans, just simmer all day--you can pre-soak or quick soak, drain, and then start this recipe if you choose. Boil for 5 minutes and reduce to a simmer for 3-4 hours, or until beans are tender.

When beans are almost at desired consistency, add creole seasoning. Before serving, add liquid smoke. Serve with steamed rice (brown or white, your preference).

Mommy Hungry

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Miss B's Red Beans and Rice

This recipe comes from Miss B, complete with tips on ingredients—Camellia beans and Tony’s Creole Seasoning. I think this was my first Cajun food, sitting at her kitchen table with a bowl ladled from a simmering pot. Mama and I made it at the end of the 9/11 week and the beginning of fall—with Goya beans and Chicken Apple Sausage. And it was perfect! Just what we needed.

1 lb. kidney beans

1 large onion, chopped

2 stalks celery, chopped

1 green pepper, chopped

2 tablespoons parsley, chopped

2 tablespoons ground bay leaf [or 2-3 whole leaves]

1/3 cup bacon drippings [or 3 pieces of bacon]

2 lb. smoked sausage

garlic salt, salt, pepper [or 1 tablespoon Tony’s]

Wash beans. Fill pot with water (2-3 quarts). Add onion, celery, green pepper, parsley, bay leaf, and bacon drippings. Bring to boil uncovered. Simmer and keep adding water until beans are softened, and gravy and beans are desired consistency (we added 1 quart more), approximately 2 hours. Add sausage, then Tony’s. Simmer uncovered about ½ hour longer. Turn off heat, let rest for 30 minutes. Make rice. Serve.

Miss B

Sign of the Times

Bud and Sis's appetite for language is enormous, almost matching their appetite for food!

During most meals the kids spell out the letters of the words around them, on our walls or on cereal boxes or on t-shirts or on anything they can see. And on our trip to Texas, Bud did several word searches, on the plane, in restaurants, and in the hospital waiting room. Sure, he can't read the words, but he can find the letters, circle them, and then cross out the word in the list. He loves it! And he's pretty good. Sis likes word searches too, especially if they're homemade by Mama, who excels at making up themed puzzles--with family names, animal names, Texas words, etc. And they are both expanding their sight word knowledge--Bud and Sis both recognize "zoo," while Bud knows "Pop" (he asked yesterday why Pop's name was on the pop-up book!) and "Gommie" and Sis knows variants of Mommy and Mama. Plus their own names.

And we just spent all of lunch, which we ate out at the Tex-Mex place, signing to one another--about food! They kept asking for words--hot, food, eat, now, later, chicken, want, like, dislike--and Sis even made them into sentences. Luckily, I know most of those words in sign, having learned signed English from my Aunt P and some ASL from a class I took years ago. And of course, from watching "Signing Times" with the kids when they were very young. It was great then because it got them interested in communicating--they could sign 10+ words to communicate requests before they were one, which I think made life much easier back then. Later, they loved learning all the animal signs as they learned the sounds of the animals too. But then there was a sign hiatus. For awhile we were focusing on Chinese, then it was identifying the English alphabet. Now, it's back again. They're close to learning the whole manual alphabet and each can sign out his or her name. Which I think is great--I loved knowing sign language as a child and always wished I was more fluent than I am (though I can hold a simple conversation with a very patient person). It's pretty much the only language I can pass on to the kids, there being almost no need for reading ancient Greek and Latin in preschool. And, of course, I've recorded my troubles with teaching them Chinese or Thai, two languages I neither know nor can pronounce.

I feel like Professor Higgins over here, with words and letters around me morning, noon, and night. Sure, I'm proud and impressed. But also a little nervous about how their learning how to read will change things. For now, I control information that comes to them in written form, but, with reading, the whole world will be open to them. One more layer of parental protection, control, will be gone. Of course, there are more up-sides than down--all the wonderful books, access to information, a better understanding of the world around them. So we just keep on spelling and signing and searching.

Because Everyone Keeps Asking

This is an example of a deer feeder:

And this is pretty much the winch of a deer feeder:

And he was being such a big boy and helping Gommie and Pop turn the crank and must have put out his left hand to help. No one's fault, an easy accident.

Oh, and you should know, for the record, at Pop's cabin, deer feeders are used just to feed deer corn so we can watch them--there is no hunting on his land.

CORRECTION: Football Finale

Mama has requested that I correct my earlier story about the football game.

She's right. I didn't tell it exactly how it happened; I just liked my way better. This happens sometimes.

Mama did not ask Sis if she wanted to be a cheerleader or a dancer or play in the band during halftime. Mama turned to Sis and asked, very specifically, what instrument she would like to play.

But Sis's clarion answer remains the same. She said she wanted to be in the football game!

Hugs to Miss T

This week, Miss T's husband will be deployed to Iraq. Our thoughts and prayers for a safe deployment go with him. And our love and support go to her and their two boys, who will weather the year or more at home without him.

Thank You

To Mama Teacher (and especially Mr. Teacher) for gathering our mail while we were gone.

To Miss L, for handling our CSA pick-up and making us broccoli soup.

THANKS!

Vacation Blogging Backlog: Football Finale (Day 8--Saturday)

"Saturday Night Lights."

Well, sort of, but it was a Saturday afternoon and a hometown football game, with my alma mater, in Texas.

We didn't get there for kick-off, mainly because Bud was just getting home from the ER and wanted a homecooked spaghetti-and-meatball dinner. But we were there for the 2nd quarter and, most importantly for Bud (I thought), halftime.

The funniest thing was listening to us all trying to explain football to two Yankee baseball fans. Gommie was the most avid in this. And I am my mother's daughter: at least once, we both turned to the kids and started to explain, in the exact same words, "that the man in the black and white shirt is in charge." Mama got into the act, too: as the marching bands came out, we both turned to the kids and said, "Just like in the 'Imagination Movers' show!"

Football is, of course, a huge deal in Texas (I went almost every weekend, home or away game, in high school. And Aunt Banana went to them all, as a member of the drill team), but halftime, with its marching bands, flag corps, and drill teams is also very important. Both schools present a halftime show, with the visiting team usually going first, both shows facing the home stands. And these are elaborate, 15+ minute shows with props and complex choreography, even narratives. Bud and Sis were mesmerized, especially by all the drums, xylophones, even electric guitar used in the performances.

While I had expected Bud to be fascinated by the performing bands, I was surprised at how much he liked the actual game, cheering enthusiastically for every play (luckily, most of the plays went our way and so it wasn't odd that he was cheering all the time! Our team scored several touchdowns in the quarter and a half that we saw). But it was Sis who, when asked during half-time what she would like to do (play an instrument, dance, cheer), answered that she wanted to be in the football game. You go, girl!

Vacation Blogging Backlog: Deep in the Heart of Texas (Days 7/8--Friday/Saturday)

We knew it was remote when our GPS screen was all white with just our little car icon floating in a blank space. No roads, nothing that the computer could graph--truly uncharted territory. At least for the GPS. But Pop and Gommie in the car ahead of us with the kids clearly knew the way to their cabin, called WildWood, after the neighborhood where Pop grew up in Dallas. And, well, because it is a wild wood. And for 24 hours we really enjoyed being off the map. Though, thankfully, not off the grid--we had power and running water. It was camping out in comfort, not roughing it. My kind of camping.

And the kids loved it, starting with the deer they saw even before the cars were parked. They now know the differences between bucks, does, and fawn, maybe even a spike. Because we saw three deer that first afternoon and about half a dozen the next morning, including 3 bucks--the largest of which Bud was the first to spot as it crossed the yard, several doe, and a few fawn. And deer weren't the only wildlife in evidence. We saw a pack of feral hogs--yes, wild pigs--crossing the marsh, with a giant (perhaps 250 lb) leader and a few baby hogs. We'd seen evidence of their rooting around but were happy (well, Gommie wasn't) to see them in person--Mama was intrigued, there not being too many feral hogs up in the northeast. And Sis got to see a real cottontail rabbit, very quickly, just sitting in the driveway munching on grass while deer munched on corn nearby. What else? Hawk, turkey vultures, green wing teal, black ducks (or were they wood ducks?). And as darkness fell, the coyotes started a chorus only matched in length and loudness by the kids imitating them! Pop said he'd never heard the coyotes (not the kids) go on for so long. And then there were the noisy frogs that would start up out of nowhere, croak for awhile, and then just stop, hundreds of them. But I especially liked the sound of the owls hooting as the sun set--I don't think I'd ever consciously noticed owls hooting in the woods before--and I happily pictured the woods filled with beautiful barn owls, like the one I'd seen a few days earlier. Later, we heard the scream of birds of prey--hawks? peregrine falcon? No telling. But unmistakable.

The campfire was probably by far the kids most favorite cabin experience. Pop built a big one in his rock-lined fire pit, with the kids gathering what kindling they could find. And then they promptly begged for s'mores. And so we all roasted marshmallows, though Sis had only chocolate on hers and Bud only marshmallows. More for the rest of us, I guess.

In the afternoon, the kids played Brother Bear with a canoe and paddles in the yard and a pup tent that Pop had set up. They each went hunting, found dinner, and had a blast running back and forth. Later, they all went for a hike through the woods. Both he and Sis loved picking up sticks and rocks, which they threw into the creek. Sis even found a "dinosaur bone" (an unusual piece of wood), which she kept near her for the rest of the day and even brought home in the suitcase.

For dinner, we roasted again, this time hot dogs and banana boats, which Pop and Mama had never had. What is a banana boat? Bananas sliced open and stuffed with chocolate chips and marshmallows and then enclosed in tinfoil and roasted over hot coals. Pop suggested skipping the chocolate and marshmallows and adding cinnamon and brown sugar instead to make a Bananas Foster-like treat. But we didn't have any cinnamon at the cabin. Except what I'd brought in a baggie to make our Swedish Apple Pie, which we finished in one sitting! (I loved that we made it in a tin pie plate--so very campfire! Even if I baked it in the oven). We sang campfire songs from my Girl Scout days, with the most requested song being "Little Bunny FouFou." Yippee. Second? My song about the buffalo brothers (lyrics below), which words I changed so I didn't have to ask a million questions about why the buffalo was dead. Couldn't they like "Deep in the Heart of Texas"?

With the silhouettes of oaks surrounding us in the darkening sky, Gommie brought out the colored glow sticks and the kids danced around the porch making "lassos" with them. And Sis spotted the first star. Soon the sky was filled with them. Really a "the-stars-at-night-are-big-and-bright" moment. Which is exactly why we let them stay up way past their bedtime. After singing with the coyotes and the owls (and a cow constantly mooing in the distance. Hopefully not because of the coyotes), we got the kids into bed and we returned to the campfire for awhile. While we were sitting out there, I saw a shooting star. And a doe! I had scanned the surrounding woods with my flashlight and been caught off guard by eyes glowing back at me--a doe was eating the corn at Pop's feeder. She wasn't scared of us, though, and kept right on eating, ignoring us and our talking and our flashlight, and was still there when we all headed to bed about 30 minutes later. Then after a "moonbath" in the shower outside which absolutely reminded me of Girl Scout camp, except that Pop's shower had hot water, I went to bed on the noisiest air mattress ever.

The next morning, after our deer and bunny and hog spotting, Pop and Gommie made bacon and eggs for everyone, and we all went on another hike through the woods, with Bud trying to show the way to the footbridge which they'd crossed the day before--but his sense of direction must be like mine and he kept walking the wrong way.

Then of course came the fateful deer feeder/winch accident which put an early end to our campout (though only by about an hour). Luckily, when the kids remember Texas, the campout is the first thing they mention. And Bud only remembers the deer feeder when someone asks about his bandage. Which is good.

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Buffalo Song

Out on the windswept desert

Where nature knows no man

A buffalo spied his brother

A laying in the sand.

Said the buffalo to his brother,

"Why do you lie that way?"

But the buffalo did not answer.

His brother had been dead,

Since way, last May.

(January, February, June and July,

I don't know why he had to die.

Doo-aahhhh.)

Settling In

This morning was more of a challenge than I expected, even though we had clothes sorted and snack boxes ready for school beforehand. The kids slept in late and then were sad to wake up and realize we weren't at Gommie and Pop's. The three of us sat on the bed and cried a little bit (Mama's was running around doing all the things that still needed to be done). But soon enough, they were ready to play. And then not ready to go to school. Then they were ready for school, which they love, and finally got out the door in the coats, hats, and mittens we didn't need before we left (and had to locate this morning) but now do because it frosted overnight, carrying postcards to show their teachers. Once at school, they settled right in, though Bud was wary about talking about his bandaged and stitched hand. But there are lots of sandwich baggies to cover his hand so he can play with playdough, sand, and paint.

The house looks like a tornado hit it, with every single toy they own in the middle of the living room from a past-bedtime play session last night; clothes--clean and dirty--are everywhere that toys are not. But the cats are home. I'm heading to the grocery store so we have something to eat over the next few days. And I've called the pediatrician to make an appointment to get Bud's stitches out next Wednesday.

Hopefully, by then, the tears and most of the mess will be gone.

Home Again, Home Again

With lots to tell about Bud's stitches, the football game, dinner from a North African restaurant, plus the aforementioned 24 hours in central Texas, I am just writing to say we are home, after about 9 hours in transit. No worse for the wear, with lots of great memories but also lots of tears from leaving.

Tomorrow is getting-settled day--back to school, pick up cats, go grocery shopping, call pediatrician, straighten up house, recover--but I'm sure I'll blog, too.

Vacation Blogging: Stitches

I have lots of wonderful things to tell about our 24 hours in the center of Texas--s'mores, roasted hot dogs, a dozen deer, a bunny rabbit, glow sticks, hooting owls, crying coyotes, "dinosaur bones," more "Buc-ee nuts," a pack of feral hogs, banana boats, a pup tent, showering outside, a shooting star, ducks.

But that has to wait.

Bud is at the ER now with Pop and Mama having his finger stitched up. He cut it on the crank of a deer feeder. Blood everywhere. And it took a long time to locate a hospital. None in the first town. Too much swine flu at the hospital in the second town. Third stop (an urgent care clinic)the doctors looked at it and referred them to the hospital, where they are now. We're just waiting to hear that they are headed home (we split up so they could leave the cabin earlier and get the stitches while we closed up.).

Poor little boy.

But there's a local high school football game this afternoon to distract him. And fudge we got on the way home.

Vacation Blogging: Hiatus

Tomorrow we head to the center of Texas, or at least halfway between Houston and Dallas, to go to Pop's cabin for our "campout." While the land may be relatively wild (though he's groomed paths) with foliage, beaver, and feral hogs (there even used to be an alligator in his swamp), it isn't exactly roughing it since Gommie and Pop built a little house complete with all the amenities. But it's still the woods and we'll roast hot dogs and make s'mores so the kids are calling it a campout.

But there's not wi-fi or even cell coverage and we'll be gone until we return on Saturday for a football game (but not THE football game between UT and OU). Then, after the football game, it's pretty much downhill to our departure from there. We travel all day Sunday to get home to Connecticut. I expect I'll post again on Monday.

When I'll definitely need a vacation from this vacation!

Vacation Blogging: Hook and Needle (Day 6--Thursday)

**Thanks go out to cousin S and daughter C who, seeing the post about our fishing trip, contacted us immediately about the use of children's lifevests. Ah, the magic of the internet. We appreciated the offer. Maybe for next summer at the bay . . . .

Hook

Bud and Sis wanted to go fishing. And Pop and Gommie wanted to take them. So, despite bugs and heat, we headed up to Lake Conroe this morning, after a quick stop at the sporting goods store to pick up lifevests and worms. (Thankfully, the kids didn't notice the pup tent Pop purchased as a surprise for our "campout" tomorrow, nor the arrows sold alongside deadly steel tips that Bud would no doubt love for his new bow). The sun was hot, wind blowing, waves chopping, and fish just not biting, despite numerous attempts. But I don't think the kids cared much. They loved just watching Pop handle the worms and bait the hooks, holding the rods by themselves, riding across the choppy water, eating our "Buc-ee nuts" snacks. Bud did like to try to cast a bit too much, pulling his line out of the water and swinging it around trying to put it back in a new spot. Surprisingly, he actually never hooked anyone on the boat! He also loved to reel, so his worm spent little time in the water. Sis liked to make waves in the water with the tip of her rod, much less interested in the action of her cork. So, I don't think they cared much that the fish were not biting. Pop was less sanguine but handled the disappointment of not getting even a nibble. Of course, he's also planning another fishing excursion tomorrow!

Needle

Once fishing was done, I took Gommie up on her offer to take over the kids so Mama and I could head to the International Quilt Festival in Houston, which I thought I would have to miss because of scheduling changes with our different outings. I've made a couple of very simple quilts, mostly before the kiddos, as quilting isn't, for me, a child-friendly hobby. But I love the ones I made (a lap blanket and a quilt for our bed), have a stash big enough to make several more big ones (either in the muted brown-ish palette of reproduction Civil War-era fabrics preferred by Mama or the more rainbow-hued fabrics that I like as well. But not together.), and enjoy talking with Aunt T about her craft and learning from her (she got me started on it when she gave me Great-Grandma M's featherweight Singer sewing machine).

So Mama and I hightailed it downtown, picking up more bean-and-cheeses on the way, and made it in good time. We also managed, luckily, to meet up with another aunt (Aunt T) and a family friend (Miss D), who were reveling in the quilting delights of the marketplace and in the artistry of the juried show. They'd been in town for the festival since Monday, taking classes and such. They walked us around for awhile, looking at hand-dyed fabrics, stencils, machines, etc. So many vendors, so little stash space! Then they insisted that we check out the exhibition while they grabbed a seat and a snack. Such amazingly beautiful quilts. I loved the Founder's Award-winning entry, with the elaborate entwined flowers and gradated background fabrics. But my favorites were actually the antique quilts on view from the International Quilt Festival Collection, particularly the star quilts (variously called "Lone Star," "Amish star," "Native American star," "Prairie star," etc.). I'm not a great quilter, much less a careful piecer, favoring easy quilts with square blocks and yarn-tied "quilting," so I can only aspire to the piecing necessary to make a star. But I was inspired, as was Mama, and we enjoyed the festival so much we might even quilt again soon (she measures and helps cut; I design and choose colors, as well as do the actual sewing and quilting. It's a team thing, one of the only hobbies I have, besides perhaps baking, where we really collaborate). That is, after the two baby blankets, two Christmas stockings, and two prayer shawls next in line for my crafting time.

Vacation Blogging: What-a-Buc-ee! (Day 5--Wednesday)

This post is dedicated to Gommie and Pop, whose babysitting made our swazu possible.

On Tuesday night, after tucking the children in bed, Mama and I hightailed it out of Houston to visit my aunt and uncle in Rockport, whom I hadn't seen in a few years. Google said the trip would take 4.5 hours; GPS (once we changed the time to CST) estimated it at 3 ish. It took almost 5!! But that's because, enjoying our first night away together from the children EVER, we dawdled and made several stops, including:

• Taco Cabana is my go-to fast food restaurant in Texas. From my college days of midnight bean-and-cheese runs, I have loved this regional Tex-Mex chain. We ate there several times during last year's Texas trip to Aunt Banana and Uncle Soccer's wedding. And so we had googled TC locations and found one on our way to the coast. Such a delight to eat bean-and-cheeses (refried, not black bean), with their new creamy Ranch Salsa dressing (no tomatoes in sight, but a mild smokey/peppery flavor). And since we went in to fetch them, Mama could pile on all the cilantro, onions, and hot salsas she liked. Sure, I know that these are really vegetarian--there's animal fat in the beans--but once a year, I'm not bothered by that.
• Target. You would think I get enough of that store in Connecticut but I was craving a frappuccino to keep me awake on the drive and knew I could get one there. That, and Mama was craving a long-sleeved shirt, even though it was 90F+. So we got her a new flannel shirt and a coffee. And the store was exactly the same as the one I'm at weekly. Except our Target doesn't sell wine right at the cash register! Guess suburban moms in Houston need their wine, easy to find and readily available . . . .


• Whataburger. Pronounced "water-burger," which greatly confused Mama the first several times she heard us all rave about it. But she's used to the pronunciation now (along with "Genada" for Ganado, "Porta-Conner" for Port O'Connor, and "Tie-voli" for Tivoli) and knows that the burgers are good. So are the fries and onion rings. Especially around 11 p.m. And they have these fried pumpkin pies! Just like McD's used to make their apple pies, with the hot filling and crispy, bubbly skin. De-yicious, as Bud says. Definitely good late night driving food.

But by far the very best place we went was Buc-ee's. What's that, you asked? It's a new chain of gas stations cum convenience stores cum food stops with the "cleanest restrooms in Texas." And these fried maple-y, kettle-corn like snacks called beaver nuggets that we took to calling "Buc-ee nuts." Yum-o. (The kids loved them to, polished off our bag, and are clamoring for more). I loved this store (and as you know, I try not to fall for such blatant marketing ploys and rampant consumerism). But I loved the clean restrooms--the women's room was larger than our entire downstairs in Connecticut, with probably 20 stalls!!!--and all the friendly and helpful staff and the snacks. And the vast array of kitschy Texas, country, and Southern souvenirs. I am Texas proud and always like to buy something tres tacky to take home and this was the place to find it. I got a corrugated sign painted with the Texas flag, opting not to get the one in the shape of Texas. I almost got branding irons with my initials, thinking to use them on cookies instead of steak of course, or a big Texas flag throw blanket. Mama and I both got Buc-ee shirts, giddy with the fun of it all. We didn't get the kids anything but will let them choose their own souvenirs at the Buc-ee's on the way to Pop's cabin tomorrow. It'll be a highlight.

But the night wasn't all shopping and eating. We saw lightning in distant clouds, marveled at the irridescent creepiness of all the industrial plants down on the coast lit up like giant Christmas villages, listened to our new CD of old Texas dance hall classics (guess where we got that?!), and frequently commented on how dark and deserted the roads were, and discussed suburban Texas mall-sprawl and the new, 21st-century Manifest Destiny of leaving no grassy field or forest empty of yet another overly-designed complex of chain stores and restaurants, exactly like the one 5 miles back (more on my observations about what Texans seem to buy most--God, custom-built homes, and restaurant meals--later). I also spotted, on the side of the road near Tivoli, a barn owl with its white oval face and narrow eyes having a late night snack. I'd never seen an owl live in the wild before so that was quite a treat (and, no, I didn't hear it call my name, though it did turn its head and just stare at us, which was almost discomfiting). We arrived at our destination around midnight and got almost 8 hours of sleep.

Best. Date. Night. Ever.

After a mediocre hotel hot breakfast, we headed to my aunt and uncle's house around 9 a.m. On the way over the bridge I spotted dolphins playing in the glassy-still water of the bay. And then there were the mosquitos. Unbelievable. Swarms of them at my aunt's house. Mama and I probably got 30+ together in the few minutes it took us to pile out of the car and get inside. But no matter. We had a great visit, talking about books we're reading (both of them have just finished a bio of Algernon Swinburne, one of Grandad Johnson's favorites), movies we liked (they recommended Copying Beethoven), trips (particularly their experiences in Scotland because we gave Aunt some Scottish things as belated birthday presents), kids (ours and then their grand and great-grand kids), and the like. After snacks, pictures, and more conversation, we headed to lunch at a local Vietnamese place where Mama got a bowl of noodles she really enjoyed.

Then we had to go back to the big city, having sworn to Gommie, Pop, and the kids that we'd make it home before dinner and bed. And we did. But not before a few more stops:

• For chocolate sheet cake at Prasek's. But no kolaches or coconut pie to be had. I also got some pinto bean spices. I love beans.


• For pinto beans, banana pudding, and sweet tea (my favorite!) at Mikeska's.


• And, of course, Buc-ee's!

Vacation Blogging: Fishing Trip

We're going fishing today! Yep, as a nor'easter strikes our part of the world (or nearby), it's 90+ down here and so we're going fishing and boat-riding.

Lots to do before we leave, including buying little lifevests for the kids.

More later.

Or, if I get too far behind, by Monday!

Vacation Blogging: An Update

No time tonight to tell you all about our whirlwind trip to the coast to visit my aunt and uncle, on what was our first 22 hours completely away from the kids together! I'll leave some tantalizing nuggets:

• wine and flannel shirts at Target
• the new ranch salsa dressing at Taco Cabana
• suburban sprawl and Manifest Destiny
• barn owls
• lightning
• fried pumpkin pies
• classic Texas dance hall music
• "beaver nuts"
• dolphins
• bagpipe rock
• squirrels planting peanuts
• mosquitos
• Vietnamese noodle soup
• banana pudding
• sweet tea
• 98F and 96% humidity

I'll tell you all about it in a post to be titled, "What-a-Buc-ee!"

Vacation Blogging: Museum Day (Day 4--Tuesday)

Today was our long-awaited visit to the Chinese Terracotta Warriors exhibition at the Museum of Natural Science, which I remember fondly as a child, mainly for the planetarium show where I had one of my birthdays.

The exhibition was great. And awful. Awful because of its tight, almost inaccessible layout past vitrines (those cases with objects) crammed into corners and through dark narrow hallways with labels on one side and more vitrines on the other. The last room, the dramatic room containing the majority of the warriors was more spacious in the display of the artifacts but still left very little room to stand and look, especially considering that didactic labels again lined the walls so that you couldn't pass through the people looking at art and the people looking at labels. And those labels! They were worse than the layout: text-heavy, too long, jargon-filled, uninteresting, with the best tidbits (like the one about the fact that they haven't even excavated the emperor's mausoleum with no real explanation as to why) buried in all the words. I just ignored them. And there were even Visitor Services staff (but not education??) standing around answering questions (but the staff omnipresent in the galleries didn't do anything about the behavior of all the teenagers on field trips who blocked paths, leaned over scansions, and sat on the floor filling out those damned field trip worksheets that teachers always torture them with unnecessarily)--perhaps they realized too that the labels were burdensome (where they existed--the individual object labels were curiously devoid of much explanation at all). As a museum professional, I can only imagine that this show was pre-fab, a boxed show, straight from the Chinese government or something like. Is that why the venues of the exhibition are so strange, why there is no NYC showing?? Is this the difference between art in a science museum and art in an art museum? Why weren't these across the street at the fine arts museum? I would love to know the backstory.

But the objects were great. Really quite amazing. Full-sized, individualized, highly detailed. The terracotta warriors in their armor, with their headdresses denoting rank, with their hands clutching weapons and tools and instruments that for the most part have long since disappeared. And all the other artifacts: limestone armor with perfect drill holes held together with metal connectors! Bronze bells! Stamped roof tiles! Bronze timber joints! Full bronze chariots with terracotta horses complete with tack made out of bronze! True-to-life cranes of bronze! All from the 2200 years ago. Thankfully, this wreck of an exhibition didn't get in the way of appreciating the works of art themselves. I'd tell you more (seems unfair to bitch about the show longer than I praise it) but you really have to see it for yourself (it'll be in DC, at the National Geographic Museum, of all places).

Mama was fascinated and impressed and, as a Chinese woman, proud. The kids were distracted by all the teenagers and by the dinosaurs and dioramas in other parts of the museum. But Bud became entralled by the archer who must have held a bow at the ready and he struck the pose for the rest of the morning. Thankfully, Gommie and Pop took them to the rest of the museum--Tyrannosaurus Rex! Woolly Mamooths! Dioramas of Zebras being devoured by lions! This last one was the most impressive and the first thing the kids dragged us to when we emerged. And as we walked past the dinos downstairs I pointed out a cave bear but Sis, who had already been through the area with Gommie and Pop, told me, no doubt rolling her eyes, "Mom, that is a Giant Sloth." And she was right. (It was a second-generation "cave canem" moment similar to the one I had with Gommie in Pompeii when she didn't believe me that the Latin translated to "beware of dog." It does. And it was a giant sloth.) We quickly toured the all but abanndoned Hall of the Native Americans (or some such title), with representative artifacts from various indigenous peoples and then ran around the planets embedded in the courtyard outside.

Then it was lunchtime. But instead of eating at the golden arches in the museum, we headed through the pouring rain way north to Tomball to eat at Mel's Country Cafe, home of the best Chicken Fried Steak I've ever had. And yes I had some. Three bites covered in cream gravy. And it was delicious. No apologies. We ate liked we'd been buried in the earth with the warriors for two millennia: dinner rolls, cornbread, fried okra, mixed greens, corn, mashed potatoes, white gravy, huge chicken fried steak, fried fish, chicken fingers, hush puppies, coconut cream pie, peach cobbler, lemonade, iced tea. Goodness, Texas eating is good. But loved the corn and the greens. Sis disemboweled her roll and filled it with mashed potatoes and gravy just like I'd told her we did when I was in elementary school. I loved the peach cobbler with its dense and buttery crust. And Blue Bell homemade vanilla ice cream on it, ambrosia of the gods, that stuff is. And good iced tea! It stopped raining. We saw a freight train go by at a grade-level crossing. It was another good day.

Now we're home and just relaxing the day away. Tonight after bedtime, Mama and I alone head south down the coast to Rockport to visit my aunt and uncle tomorrow morning. It will be our very first whole night away from the kids since their births. A sort of vacation within a vacation, even if we'll spend something like 8 hours in the car for only a 4 hour visit. But it'll be fine.

So, there won't be a post until tomorrow night at the earliest. Take care til then.

Vacation Blogging: Taking It Easy (Day 3--Monday)

Monday was an "at-home" day for us, relatively speaking. In the morning, the kids played with all Gommie's great toys. Then, one of Gommie's friends came over to take our pictures altogether. We posed outside in the oppressive humidity and heat. And in just a few minutes, Bud had 7 mosquito bites on his face, ears, and arm. Mama had a few too. Somehow, Sis escaped unbitten, even though she is usually the first to get bitten. But I think the pictures probably came out great (though, I realized how self-conscious I was having my picture taken repeatedly; kinda reminded me of when I first started to open presents at my bridal shower with everyone watching--but at least there was the distraction of the presents there!).

Pop headed to work and we kept playing at home. Uncle Soccer worked too, from upstairs at Gommie's computer. We tried to keep the kids quiet enough, as Bud ran around with his dagger and bow or danced to his new Tartanic cd. He and Sis also built zoos for their new plastic animal toys with Gommie's rainbow-colored foam blocks. And I looked at Aunt Banana's wedding pictures from a year ago, which were beautiful--she was a beautiful bride (you're cute too, Uncle Soccer). She had pulled out a lot of pics of the kids--amazing, but they look the same only smaller.

Then we went for lunch at the Mexican food place, along with Pop and Uncle Soccer. Several bowls of queso and guacamole and chips, plus plates of rice and chicken fingers and enchiladas and grilled shrimp and tacos and tamales and refried beans and charro beans, and lots of beer and iced tea, as well as a whole molten chocolate cake that was as big as Sis's face and which she managed to almost eat entirely on her own (eating the molten part and the cake surrounding it first), AND a tres leches cake soaked in sweetened condensed milk, and soapapillas in honey, and coconut ice cream balls, lots of laughs and two hours later, then the women plus Bud headed to Gommie's "playgroup" with her Mah Jongh friends.

We had visited the playgroup two years ago and had enjoyed visiting with the ladies. Though, this time Sis was weary, "Will Gommie's friends know not to touch Amy the Bunny?" Yes, of course. And we were weary--both Mama and I remembered that the hostess's house had lots of pretty, breakable things. Bud had to leave his bow and dagger in the car. But they were fine, totally transfixed by the mah jongh tiles, which they rearranged and matched while the adults chatted. We also celebrated Granny Q's birthday with yet more food!

Then, as we were heading to the car, Gommie dropped Shirt in a puddle and that was just the end for Sis, poor tired thing. Mama and I picked up ivory flakes at the store and managed to get Shirt clean enough while the kids introduced the family to Brother Bear.

Finally, Aunt Banana and Uncle Soccer had to go home. The kids had a lot of fun with them, particularly playing ball in the backyard. And Sis was upset to say goodbye. Bud seemed to take it in stride but then needed to go wave goodbye again. When he inadvertently waved the UT "hook 'em, horns" handsign upside down. I think I could hear rival OU fan Uncle Soccer laugh through the closed window! It was a good visit with them, the longest in awhile, and I was glad the kids were unaffected by that infrequency.

Sis took a bath in Gommie's large sauna tub. The kids then had dinner and went to bed. Day ostensibly over. The three remaining adults talked for awhile and then went to bed. Well, they did. You already know what I did.

One More Thing

I forgot to mention in my post on Day 1 of our vacation that Sis's favorite part about travelling was when she got to buy a brownie by herself at the bakery in the airport. She chose the treat, got the paper to pick up the brownie and the bag to drop it in, and then presented it to the cashier and paid for it, taking the change, receipt, and treat back to her seat without any help. After that, she kept trying to get us to buy more things so she could help. I bet it was the best brownie ever. She ate every last crumb.

Happy Birthday, Granny Q!

We were thrilled to be able to sing and share cake with Granny Q (of pilllowcase fame) for her birthday today. Happy Birthday!

And thanks so much for the tickets to the Chinese Warriors exhibition--we are so excited to be going! (I really should go to bed so I can be awake for it--though, note, I'm on CST right now, which is an hour earlier than the time my posts are being stamped).

Vacation Blogging: Knight/Hawks (Day 2--Sunday)

a.k.a "Our Day at the Texas Renaissance Festival, or How to Survive the 16th Century in a Plastic Poncho."

Yep, it rained.

Not the whole day. Just enough to make the ground puddly and slick and everything damp. We also think a lot fewer of the performers were wandering around, so we heard a lot less music than expected. Because it wasn't supposed to rain like that.

But the day was not a wash at all.

Especially after I bought a $5 purple poncho (the rest of the family had blue; the kids had rain jackets already). The ponchos did confuse the kids though. Poor Sis couldn't identify any grown-ups but me unless she was standing directly in front of them looking up, which she found enormously frustrating when she kept looking for Gommie.

Why?
Okay, so what were we doing at the festival anyway, especially in the rain? I've been going to the Texas Renaissance Festival since the 1970s, probably 1977 or so, just a little after it first opened. When Gommie first took Banana and I, it was just a small affair with one person taking tickets at the front, which I distinctly remember entering on wooden planks because of all the mud. I also remember the mean and scary witch that kept bugging my little sister, to the point of making her cry, until Gommie went ballistic on the woman and scared her away. And I've been back several times, with Gommie and Banana at least one more time (or two), with my aunt P, with high school friends, with college friends, even with Mama several years ago. I even have a fantastic costume that I bought at the festival in Bristol, WI, that I love to wear--a multi-layered affair in mauve and green. It's not practical to wear around young kiddos and would've been ruined in the mud, but maybe I'll bring it to Texas again sometime. Yep, I get into the faires. And so when we chose October as our vacation, I just knew that we had to go. And my folks and Banana and Soccer were good sports to humor me and come along. The kids were too. (Mama loves faires too and so didn't need any coercing).

Food, Glorious Food
Three, count them, three funnel cakes for two small kids. It was pretty much the only food they ate. And they did have to "share" with the adults who wouldn't buy their own funnel cakes--no, nobody wanted a whole one--so they just kept mooching off the kids. The kids loved those funnel cakes, the name for which Sis kept forgetting, though she definitely remembered that she liked them without all that sticky powdered sugar. And, you know, I think she's right; they're better without the "snow."

Otherwise, Mama and I loved the Scotch egg, which is a hard-boiled egg encased in sausage and then deeped fried in a flour batter. You eat it with dijon mustard. Yum. Those and turkey legs are the Renaissance Festival! But of course, being a "good" vegetarian, I only ate the egg. Enjoying that sausage essence all the while . . . .

I also liked the black bean soup I had, which had bell peppers and onions and lots of cumin, maybe even a little vinegar, just lots of flavor in what could have easily been an out-of-a-can festival food. I'm going to try to make it at home.

Dressed to Impress
Okay, so I already mentioned the ponchos. But I didn't mention the purple garland I wore when I didn't have my hoodie up! Yep, stereotypical garb for non-serious Ren Faire attendees, but I love to have something in the spirit to wear and for just over $10, some flowers and ribbons make me feel almost like a lady of the court. The old garlands were better, made of dense bundles of real dried flowers in wonderful arrays of colors and with long flowing ribbons in matching colors. Now, of course, it's all faux silk flowers and shorter ribbons, though mine was pretty enough with deep purple and some dark greenery. Some of the flowers look more like flowers than others. For a few years, when I was a kid, I actually made my own garland with florist wire and tape, choosing my favorite flowers and ribbons. Mine were as good as any of those yesterday.

Of course, the costumes are one of the highlights of the fair, both the ones for sale (of which there are many vendors) and the ones on official participants (identifiable by special TRF badge) and serious visitors. I'm always amazed at what women can and will do with cleavage. I've never really been inclined or able to use mine as a chin rest. In that, my fashion sense is more Victorian lady than Ren Faire wench. But I do love seeing all the elaborate court garb (though, really, the woman dressed as Queen Catherine of Aragon should not have been wearing her hair loose and down) and would, if possible, purchase a similar grand costume to wear.

Music Hath the Power . . .
There wasn't as much music this year because all those beautiful period instruments are wooden and thus susceptible to damage in the rain. But we heard some. Actually, Bud noticed it first and in a downpour dragged us out of our dry spot shopping in a pavilion to chase down a lane in search of drums and bagpipes. And there, cowering under the funnel cake stand--ah, more funnel cakes--was Tartanic, a rockin' Scottish group. Bud danced and twirled and gyrated to the beat, loving it. And two hours later, when we were eating--guess what?!--the band came on again and so me in my garland and Bud in his rain jacket danced our Scottish puddle dance out in the grass without getting rained on.

. . . . To Soothe the Savage Beast
I think, hands down (with Sis's dissenting vote for the jousts), the favorite part of the festival for our group was the falconry show, with the red tail hawk and turkey vulture and barred owl familiar to most, as well as more rare birds whose names I don't recall (including some kind of African hawk that is almost as fast as the fastest creature on earth, the Peregrine Falcon, and an owl that is the largest in the world). Sis and Bud sat rock still for the whole show which included quite a bit of didactic material on the various species. But who cares when you can marvel at those birds of prey? What amazes me is that these wild birds are so well-trained that they don't just fly off in search of turkey legs, which we are warned in advance to hide. But the festival is crawling with food and the birds, who must not be hungry with all the treats they get, just stay put and do their flying thing. Really, really close to the heads of the audience. And not always to the exact specification of the falconer.

On Target
Perhaps second only to the falconer was archery. I'm not sure who started it, probably Aunt Banana or Gommie, but we all ended up shooting arrows at the archery range. Pop and Mama were the best, hitting the paper targets each time they shot. The rest of us did hit the hay, which was better than the arrows landing in the dirt (and much better than I thought I'd do). But at some point our aim didn't matter. It was just fun.

Treasures
If Mama was our William Tell, Bud was a little Robin Hood carrying around an oversized bow that Mama got him (sans the accompanying metal-tipped arrows!). He was pleased as punch to have the bow and spent most of the rest of the day (which was almost over at this point, though this post is not) plucking the string. It hasn't left his side since (except to visit Gommie's friends today, because, well, the bow is big and wooden and the hostess had a nice house with breakable things. As it was, he and Sis made a nice mess of the Mah Jongh game, but that's for tomorrow's post). I think Pop feels a bit sorry for him, though, and I won't be at all surprised if some less-dangerous arrows with foamy tips or something aren't made or located.

Sis's treasure came from the fairies. She and Gommie came across at troupe of fairies at some point and, though Sis just stood and stared at them, obviously interested but in no way daring to approach them, one of them approached her and gave her a shiny green stone, a magic faerie rock. She was so amazed, so proud. She carried that rock in her tight fist all day, entrusting it to an adult only if necessary. Later she did a dig-for-gems game and gathered a whole little pouch of crystalline rocks but they were not in the same category as the magic faerie rock, which was kept safely separate.

She also received several flowers during the grand parade. As she again stood motionless but intrigued by the parade participants, more than one came over to her and presented her with flowers, first a pink rose from a court lady in pink, and then a carnation. As well as some green plastic beads. Bud, by then was starting to feel a bit jealous--he came late to the fairy gathering and didn't get a rock and no one handed him any flowers--so Gommie--bless all grandmothers--helped him attract the attention of some flower throwers. But best of all, a kindly lord bestowed on Bud a little silver-painted wooden dagger! For the rest of the day he carried flowers in one hand and dagger in the other, an odd image of peace and war.

Those were the best things procured that day, though we came home with a few extra souvenirs--a t-shirt, a collectible pin, a gift for the babysitter, a gift for my aunt who until recently was a yearly habitue of the festival and the Sea Devil Tavern (noted to be not recommended for children), a skein of coral hand spun and dyed yarn for me, and a surprise from Mama--a little decorative wooden fairy door that I can put in some corner of the house to let fairies in and out!

Loose Ends
And so we headed home around 2:30, having fully enjoyed the festival for 5 1/2 hours despite the rain. In fact, we were glad of the rain, because only 7,000 people were said to be in attendance, as opposed to 17,000 the day before. I can't imagine.

Some final thoughts and images:

• Sis loved riding the carousel and proudly sat on the bunny, though Gommie at first mistook the various creatures and put her on a kangaroo!
• Sis was also intrigued by a Papa and Mama Elf, two little Gnomes in Red and Green hats whom she approached, recognizing them from books and our garden figures.
• Only Uncle Soccer was intrigued by the elephants and nobody would ride with him.
• The kids' games on offer are a waste of money--come on, faire people, design some better games for the little ones.
• Dad and Uncle Soccer (and the kids) had never been before. Dad at one point turned to me and said, "I think some of these people think this is real." And yes, I think some festival people travel the circuit and live in the Renaissance several months of the year. I'm glad just to visit.
• I couldn't for the life of me remember yesterday the names of all of Henry VIII's wives, who are featured one at a time at the festival. Here's a way to remember: 3 Catherines, 2 Annes, and a Jane (not in that order or exact spelling--the Catherines are different; though, the last Catherine was named after the first). And their fates? Divorced, beheaded, died. Divorced, beheaded, survived.

I can't believe how big it's all gotten, from those days when Real Musgrave sat in a tent signing his posters with little dragons and runes and there were only some crafters, my favorite fest musical group called Celtic Stone, elephant rides, Scotch eggs, only a few permanent buildings and lots more open space, and the SCA sparrers battering at each other several times a day--back when you got in at a reduced rate if you came in costume! Bigger isn't always better, but really, the Texas Renaissance Festival is the best.

More tomorrow, about today.

Vacation Blogging: In the Air and On the Ground (Day 1--Saturday)

We are here, safely and happily, and have been enjoying a busy first 36 hours:

• "We're in the air!" Bud exclaimed, after having asked for the last 30 minutes during boarding and taxiing if we were taking off yet (after a several hours of "when will we leave home?", "when will we be at the airport?", and "when will we get on the plane?"). Such a veteran flyer (of eight previous flights), he declared our departure right over Manhattan with Central Park (with the Zoo where he got his penguin critter) clearly visible, along with other notable landmarks, the "best take off ever!" And you know what, I think it was.
• The kids were not in their car seats for the first time ever, instead using an FAA-approved harnass to keep them secure. And keep Bud from crawling all over me, which he had been doing all morning, since our discussion about what to do if we get separated and how to talk to strangers (which elicted lots of questions about what was wrong with strangers. Nothing overall, of course, but it's good to be careful. We'd just had a long conversation with a nice woman heading to Cleveland and I had pointed out afterwards not to talk to strangers if Mama or I wasn't around.) As for the lost thing, it's find a person in a uniform or a "mommy"-type with kids.
• He and Sis proceded to watch 3 hours worth of dvds, barely eating the sandwiches we had. He also did word searches, his new favorite thing--he can't read the words but he loves finding them letters in the right order, circling them, and then crossing them out. Mama and I watched Up, which was quite touching in parts and quite juvenile in others; but we would recommend it overall.
• We tried very hard to ignore Hangover Man next to us, who declared as soon as he sat down in our aisle seat that he hadn't slept but would on the plane. When I responded that we might need to get up a few times to use the restroom, he just put on his shades and slept. Or tried to. The stench from his stale breath was palpable and his moans of nausea quite nerve-racking when he grabbed the vomit bag 20 minutes into the flight and suffered the rest of the 3 1/2 hour flight! All I wanted to know was whether it was alcohol or infection!
• Sis, who sat with Mama in the aisle in front of us, ate the stuffing out of her sandwich, drank 2 bottles of water, and then ate a whole bag of cookies and a whole bag of chips, plus a candy bar and a tootsie roll.
• Bud lifted up his window shade about every 10 minutes to look out over the clouds, "Nope, we're not landing yet." And then we did. After he finished off 3 lollipops so that his ears wouldn't hurt.
• Okay, the airport in Houston is maybe bigger than our whole town in Connecticut and even after taxiing for 15 minutes we still had to wait to deplane and then walk another 15+ minutes to the baggage claim. By then, some of the fatigue of the adventure was setting in and the kids were grumbling about putting one step in front of the other.
• But then we found Pop and Gommie and Aunt Banana and Uncle Soccer and everything was better.
• Especially because Gommie had lots of candy and a Pez "depressor" for each of them.
• We found the cars, got the seats strapped in, and headed home.
• Where they then played with every single toy Gommie had out, including "Break the Ice" and "Zingo," and bowling and tea party (Sis served "chocolate carrot" tea to herself, Gommie, and Banana, with Amy the Bunny at the place of honor. Later, she had scones for me with clotted cream!) and arts and crafts with foamies. And that doesn't include the souvenirs they got from Gommie and Pop's trip to Glacier National Park (and looking at just a few of Pop's hundreds of pictures of bears and tipi and mountains and such). Later, they went out to play soccer and football with Banana and Soccer and Bud honed his new "stumble" move, which includes running, throwing the ball, and doing a somersault.
• Dinner of baked chicken, rice, gravy, and green peas was mostly a success, though neither kid was hip to the traditional LeSeur peas.
• Then it was off to bed for them, with tuck-ins from the whole family after a quick hairwashing and bath.
• But that was not the end of the evening for us. Oh, no. The kids slept but Banana and I plus spouses headed to the coffee shop and bookstore to enjoy pumpkin spice lattes while perusing hundreds of used books. And guess what I found? The Vegetarian Epicure, original 1972 edition with line drawings, a companion to the second volume that I had picked up last weekend at the church festival. I was overjoyed, particularly because I hadn't been able to find a copy easily online for the price I wanted to pay. I'm still excited about it.
• Home, a little more conversation, then bed for us.
• To be followed on Sunday by the Texas Renaissance Festival!!!! But I'll tell you about that tomorrow.

Note to Self

Packing for a vacation is not an activity conducive to or encouraging of celebrating a loving relationship on an anniversary.

Risotto to the Rescue

I'm contemplating recipes that I can make in Texas both to share with my family and satisfy my needs as a vegetarian. And I came across all the risottos that Mama and I have made. Okay, so risotto is absolutely contrary to my parents' dietary preferences, but I'm guessing they'd like to try them, anyway, as a side. Between them, the kids, me, and Uncle Soccer, we're a hard bunch to feed. Thank heavens Mama and Aunt Banana seem to eat most anything.

-=-=-=-

Risotto e Fagioli

Mama made this for a change of taste. Really yummy, with the surprise pumpkin seeds. This was, I believe, one of our first risottos and soon one of our standbys.

¼ cup finely chopped onion

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 cloves crushed garlic

1 cup Arborio rice

½ cup white wine

4 ½ cups chicken broth

1 cup cooked, drained, small white beans (can use canned but heat in chicken stock)

½ cup roasted pumpkin seeds (roast at 350 for 5-10 minutes)

½ tablespoon sesame oil

¼ cup grated parmesan cheese

Cook onion and garlic in olive oil until soft. Add 1 cup rice and toss with oil. Add wine, stirring frequently with a wooden spoon, cooking over moderate heat until wine has been absorbed. Add 4 ¼ cups broth to the rice, ½ cup at a time. Wait for each addition to be absorbed before adding the next, until the rice is al dente and a creamy sauce develops. Stir in beans, seeds, sesame oil, and cheese.

Fifty Ways to Cook Most Everything

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Risotto with Lentils

A pretty good risotto but the lentils were a little hard. And there was too much thyme. Try again, with changes.

1 cup lentils

1 chopped onion

2 cloves garlic, chopped

2 teaspoons olive oil

1 teaspoon dried thyme

½ teaspoon rosemary, crumbled

pinch of ground allspice

1 ½ cups Arborio rice

½ cup white wine

6 cups chicken broth

2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped

1 tablespoon grated parmesan

salt, pepper

Boil lentils in 3 cups water for 20 minutes, drain and set aside. Meanwhile, cook onion and garlic in olive oil until soft. Add herbs and rice, stir, and cook for 1 minute. Add ½ cup white wine and simmer until absorbed, stirring frequently. Add 1 cup chicken broth and stir until absorbed. Add lentils and 5 cups of additional broth, 1 cup at a time, stirring. Wait for each cup to be absorbed before adding the next. Stir in parsley, parmesan, salt, pepper.

Fifty Ways to Cook Most Everything

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Risotto with Spinach

We love risotto and have tried several. This one is especially good with sunflower seeds.

6 cups stock

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1/3 cup finely chopped yellow onion

¾ lb. spinach, stemmed and thinly sliced crosswise

2 cups Arborio or Carnaroli rice

2/3 cup dry white wine

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

2 tablespoons freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese

freshly grated nutmeg, to taste (1/2-1 teaspoon)

salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste

In a small saucepan over medium heat, bring stock to a simmer; maintain over low heat. In a large, heavy saucepan over medium heat, warm oil. Add onion; saute until softened, about 4 minutes. Add spinach, reduce heat to low, cover and cook until tender, about 5 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer to a bowl; set aside. Add rice to pan; stir until well coated with oil and translucent with a white dot in the center, about 3 minutes. Add wine and stir until absorbed. Add stock a ladleful at a time, stirring frequently after each addition. Wait until stock is almost completely absorbed before adding more. Reserve ¼ cup stock to add at the end. When rice is almost tender to the bite but slightly firm in the center and looks creamy, after about 18 minutes, add spinach mixture to pan and add a ladleful of stock. Cook, stirring occasionally, until spinach mixture is heated through and rice is al dente, 2-3 minutes. Remove from heat; stir in butter, cheese, and reserved ¼ cup stock. Season with nutmeg, salt and pepper.

Williams-Sonoma catalogue

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Roasted Sweet Garlic and Thyme Risotto with Toasted Almonds and Breadcrumbs

Continuing our obsession with different risotti, Mama found this on the internet from Food TV. It is amazing! The garlic was a little hard to squeeze out but added depth to the flavor. Our lemon thyme, the almonds, and breadcrumbs—wonderful! It took awhile to wait but was worth it. And reheats well.

2 large heads garlic, whole and unpeeled

Approximately 1 quart (1.1 litres) chicken stock

1 tablespoon olive oil

3 shallots or 2 medium onions, finely chopped

2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

1/2 head celery, finely chopped

14 ounces (400 grams) risotto rice

2 wine glasses dry white vermouth or dry white wine

Sea salt

1 good handful fresh thyme, leaves picked

Freshly ground black pepper

2 1/2 ounces (70 grams) butter

4 ounces (115 grams) freshly grated Parmesan

51/2 ounces (155 grams) shelled and peeled almonds, lightly crushed, cracked or chopped

2 handfuls coarse fresh bread crumbs

Olive oil

For the basic risotto: Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F (230 degrees C). Roast the whole garlic heads on a dish in the oven until soft, about 30 minutes.

Stage 1: Heat the stock. In a separate pan heat the olive oil, add the shallots or onions, garlic, and celery, and fry slowly for about 4 minutes. When the vegetables have softened, add the rice and turn up the heat.

The rice will now begin to fry, so keep stirring it. After a minute it will look slightly translucent. Add the vermouth or wine and keep stirring, it will smell fantastic. Any harsh alcohol flavors will evaporate and leave the rice with a tasty essence.

Once the vermouth or wine has cooked into the rice, add your first ladle of hot stock and a good pinch of salt. Separate the roasted garlic cloves and squeeze out the sweet insides into the risotto. Add the thyme and black pepper to the risotto. Turn down the heat to a highish simmer, so the rice doesn't cook too quickly on the outside. Keep adding ladles of stock.

Remove from the heat and add the butter and Parmesan. Stir gently. Place a lid on the pan and allow to sit for 2 to 3 minutes. This is the most important part of making the risotto, as this is when it becomes outrageously creamy and oozy like it should be. Eat as soon as possible while the risotto retains its perfect texture. In a frying pan toast the almonds and bread crumbs in a little olive oil until crisp and golden. Season with a little salt. Set to one side. Serve the risotto with the toasted almonds and bread crumbs sprinkled over the top. Lovely.

Jamie Oliver, "Oliver’s Twist"

Our Vacation

So, we're going away for awhile to Texas and either I won't be blogging much or I'll be blogging the whole thing. Not sure which. But the post hiatus will last at least through Sunday, as we prepare, travel, and then get settled again.

Have a great three-day weekend!

Happy One of Our Anniversaries!

Happy anniversary, hon. Today is 4 years. For this anniversary.

Otherwise, I think we're at 12 years for the August one. 15 years for the June one. Almost one year for the December one. And I forget all the details about the November one (is it 8 years?).

Confused? That's civil union, pairing up originally, meeting, marriage, and registered domestic partners, respectively.

And I love you for them all.

Though, next time--like when it's federal--we need to pick a spring date!

(P.S. Thanks for reminding me, Mom. It's a lot to remember!)

Home Alone Tonight

Mama is out working late tonight. I'm going to straighten the house, pack, or, more realistically, read my engrossing novel, Sarah Waters's The Little Stranger (shortlisted for the Booker), and, if I finish, blog about it!

Hard Work

"Mom," he asked, "who born you?"

"Gommie."

"And who born Gommie?"

"Gommie's mommy."

"So, Gommie's mommy born Gommie. Gommie born you. You born us," he summarized. "Wow, that's hard work."

Men in My World, or My Date with a Cop

My daily world, that of a suburban stay-at-home-mom, is almost free of men in my little corner of Connecticut. But recently, men have been appearing in odd places and much more frequently than before.

Take my living room for example, a few weeks ago we had a playdate with a neighbor girl and her dad, a police officer, came because her mom was at work. And it was odd, at first, to have this big, muscular, tan (and shirtless) man sprawled out on my living room floor playing Pet Shop (eat your heart out, straight moms--you know the neighbor of which I speak and you've oggled him before). But he's genial and smart and I've known his family for years (can you believe we've been here for 7 years this month?) so we soon got to talking about all manner of things, including the overlap of museum education and police work, of all things, highlighted in a recent Smithsonian magazine about a museum educator who works with cops to expand and strengthen their visual analysis skills using artworks at the Met.

And now there are dads at pick-up and drop-off at school. One dad, I know, has been unemployed since February and was, no doubt at first, anxious about appearing at school. But now there are 2-3 others, though I don't know if they are unemployed or intentional stay-at-home-dads. One of them is organizing a playdate at a park for the kids. We nod and smile, just like I do with the moms.

And then, some of these dads were at the school field trip yesterday. And it was strange to watch the gender dynamics play out. Three of the dads stood to my left talking about weather while three moms stood to my right talking about morning sickness and I stood in between, going back and forth between discussions. Of course, I'm a mom but I'm just not that interested in rehashing pregnancy troubles with virtual strangers, especially with men standing nearby, but I felt odd abandonning the moms for the dads. Each group otherwise ignored the other for the half an hour that we waited for the rest of the group to get back from the hayride. Thankfully, the kids soon showed up and we could all separate to take pictures. I wonder if anyone else thought it was odd and awkward?

Not that I want you to get the impression that I don't want men around. I'm as fine socializing with men as with women; sometimes it's even easier, depending on the man or the woman. I'm just acknowledging that the social landscape has changed here and there are just more dads at home.

Finally, there is now a man working at my workout place, which until now has been almost exclusively the domain of women PTs and staff (there are male patients, of course). He's a nice enough guy, very quiet, and I check in with him everyday. But I miss the young, athletic, friendly dyke who had done that job for the last two years.

But perhaps that's an entirely different story . . . . :)

Wind in the Maples

Mercy, it's windy out--we can see trees dancing in the wind, no, gyrating, perhaps, out every window. Little branches are down, surely bigger ones will come down in the 60 mph gusts. But it's a beautiful day, with a bright blue sky and sun framed by dramatic darker storm clouds that just keep missing us.

But we're missing the outdoors today, keeping inside because there is nowhere that we'd be free from falling branches. Maybe tomorrow . . .

What A Week, So Far

• The weather: Connecticut can't decide--is it summer or fall, rainy or dry, cold or warm? We had downpours last night and wind warnings today, but beautiful weather yesterday after a 44F morning.
• Health: Sis had her follow-up after being sick and on antibiotics--she's fine. And we got some advice for heading into all of the swine flu in Texas--vitamin C and osccillconium, just to support immune systems. Fine. Can't hurt. Though, I was a bit disturbed to read that the latter comes from a muscovy duck (which we saw at the farm yesterday, more on that soon)--a single duck for millions of doses, meaning there isn't any duck in my pill just some sugar, as is the way with homeopathic remedies. Still, I'm a bit down about the duck. Otherwise, I've had a stomach bug which has kept me close at home the last few days as I begin to feel better.
• Pumpkin Farm: We went on a pumpkin farm field trip yesterday, seeing ducks and a calf, taking a hayride, and best of all for the kids jumping around a huge hay maze. And Mama came with us. Bud also liked the scarecrow that they each got in their goodie bags. And, of course, the pumpkins.
• Church Festival: On Sunday, we spent half the day at the church festival, which for the first time in a few years enjoyed good weather. We mostly perused the book sale, picking up a few kids' books and cookbooks, and played the children's games. Sis chose brownies from the bake sale that ended up being burnt on the bottom; I had promised her we'd make an apple pie at home to avoid having to pay for our own pie, which they'd priced at $8. I hope they got it. Not sure if any of our breads or pies sold. I did find a doll at the tag sale table, a rag doll based on Joan Walsh Anglund characters, like one I've had for years, which I picked up for $3. I used to have a light-blue lined sleeping bag with all the little girls having tea and such on it--the big eyed, otherwise featureless, vaguely historically girls in dresses that I really liked. The look has been, since then, corrupted by Precious Moments, which I find too precious and not at all endearing as Anglund's drawings. Anyway, I was giddy about finding the doll.
• Weaving: After several classes, my loom is dressed and I can start weaving, first my sample, and then later the scarf for Mama. It took awhile to thread all those heddles, especially because the castle on my loom is so big--Albus would sit on top and watch me thread!--but luckily sleying the reed was fast and then it was just tying it on and getting started. No problems yet, after all the problems--broken threads on the warp board, skipped heddles, miscounted inches, and broken warp threads on the loom--that I had last time. I should have the scarf done by Christmas and I'm definitely looking forward to the process.
• Trip Preparation: As I've mentioned, we're going to Texas for more than a week and excitement is definitely building over here at the Hungry household. The kids can barely tell time and so keep wondering when we're going. And then, oddly, they forget and think Gommie is coming here. Sis keeps talking about "Gommie's candy" (hint, hint: have some with you at the airport!) and she woke up this morning talking about all the toys Gommie said she got. Bud, on the other hand, wants to go fishing, saying that we always fish with Pop. That wasn't on our list . . . but everything else is: Texas Renaissance Festival, Chinese warrior exhibition, International Quilt Festival, trip to Rockport to see my aunt and uncle, trip to Pop's cabin to have a campout, and I realized this morning we could perhaps catch a football game with my high school team and that we really should go to the half priced bookstore! Plus, of course, seeing Gommie, Pop, Aunt Banana, Uncle Soccer, Granny Q, and others . . . . And I don't have a thing to wear. My summer wardrobe is worn out but there aren't any summer clothes really available up here now--and it is going to be 90F in Houston today. Oh, well, it's more about the kids anyway. Mama and I are, as usual, highstrung about traveling with the kids, worrying about logistics and such--not just how well they'll sleep and what we need to pack but also swine flu and plane crashes (yes, we are worriers). I know we'll have fun and that Gommie and Pop have gone out of their way to get ready for us (the unparalleled excitement on both sides of the country making me feel extremely guilty that we don't get down there more). It'll just take a bit for Mama and I to settle in and relax (well, for me; I don't know if she will).
• Etc. But before all that, the kids have school; I have a dental appt to check my nightguard which is actually coming off at night which is a choking hazard; we have playdates; and errands to run, from getting our farm box to dropping off the cats at "kitty camp." And so I haven't blogged much and probably won't until either we get there or get back.

Watch Your Toes!

Two friends--one with a fractured big toe and one with a broken little toe--remind me how much hurt toes hurt (I broke the tip of my middle toe by dropping a giant glass bottle on it six years ago). Hope they heal fast, friends!

Word-less

I've got things simmering in my mind to write but nothing much ready to type in, including thoughts on the Harvest Festival, including a poem I bought, my weaving class, my possible return to reading mystery novels, and a variety of articles in the paper, from the outing of teenagers to happy meals, plus Carrie Fisher's new Broadway show and "Sesame Street" in Ramallah.

More later . . .

Goodbye, Gourmet?!

It comes as a shock this morning that Conde Nast publishers are closing the covers on Gourmet. It's been published since December 1940 and is headed by famous food writer/editor Ruth Reichl. I've subscribed before but find that I don't make many of the foodie-oriented recipes; still, it's a great read with beautiful pictures. And I've never liked rival Bon Appetit much, which Conde Nast is keeping in print. I'll be keeping a lookout for the last issues of Gourmet--they're bound to be great.

Hamburger = Paralysis

If you eat ground beef, read Stephanie Smith's story. Her mom made her a hamburger for dinner and she ended up in coma for 9 weeks and paralyzed. She's 22. The hamburger, sold as a frozen hamburger patty that her mom grilled, had bits from all over the world, including a South Dakota company that treats fats with ammonia to kill bacteria. It was not the "angus" patty the packaging said it was. Sure, her reaction to the E. coli bacteria in the burger was extreme, but people are sickened and killed every year by bad meat. Let's press for tighter regulation of the food industry--I know everyone won't be a vegetarian, but I'd like everyone to be safer. Until then, no ground beef for my kids.

Warning Lifted

No harm done--we've been snacking and playing in the basement, no worries. And now the warning has been lifted.

And Mama is home.

Still love the basement.

Basement Bound

We're in the basement, under a tornado warning (that's me, the kids, and both cats; Mama is still, safely, at work). The NWS says it will be here in the next 20 minutes.

Love the new basement.

Happy Anniversary!

Today, Gommie and Pop celebrate their 45th wedding anniversary!

Wow.

Congratulations!

May we be as lucky . . . . (recognizing, of course, that it is a combo of luck and hard work).

We love you!

What Are You Going to be for Halloween?

Drumroll, please.

Sis is going to be . . . Kenai.

And Bud is going to be . . . Denahi.

No surprise there, really. Though, they had toyed with being a "pizzeria guy" and a rock star, respectively.

So, today we went to the craft store and bought supplies, as mentioned in the previous post. Sis will wear an orange t-shirt with an orange felt "tunic" over the top, probably with a belt, while Bud will be dressed similarly in blue. Both will have totems (a bear and a wolf) made out of pink and blue clay, respectively, hung on rope necklaces. They can just wear regular pants and shoes. Oh, and they'll have spears, probably using the sticks from their Scottish flags.

Of course, no one who sees them will have even a remote idea of who they are. The movie Brother Bear came out, what, eight years ago? And even then, most people didn't see it. Everyone was going to see Finding Nemo instead. But who cares? Nobody recognized Sis when she was a vet either, despite the word "vet" being written on her coat! So, I'll be there to explain.

Dressed up in black t-shirt and pants, wearing brilliant blue and purple butterfly wings!

Blood, Blood Everywhere

To continue my sports metaphors from the previous post, I usually don't think of going to the craft store as a contact or blood sport. But it was today.

After picking out supplies for the kids' Halloween costumes (shall I keep it a surprise? You'll never guess from what was in our cart--orange and blue t-shirts, orange and blue felt in 1 yd cuts, pink and brown clay, and necklace ropes), we stopped in the restroom and headed to checkout. As we were unloading the cart at the cash register, I looked down and saw that Sis's hands were covered with blood. And her arm. And her t-shirt. And her pants. And she wouldn't, couldn't tell me if she was cut or hurt, hiding her hands behind her. Thinking she had a paper cut, just like the other day when she similarly didn't want me to make a fuss, I kept trying to see but it made her even more anxious. How could a paper cut bleed that much? And her face! I finally got a look at her face and knew exactly where the blood was coming from: her nose.

By then, everyone in line was offering tissues and advice. Which was good, because I don't have any experience with nosebleeds. Luckily, by then the blood wasn't actually flowing (I guess it just did in the five minutes it took to walk the length of the store from the bathroom, since she was fine there). So, we finished checking out and went back to the bathroom and got cleaned up and reassured that everything was okay.

And it was. Especially after lunch at the "crunchy chicken" restaurant.

Two on One

As you may recall, Mama is working this weekend, having left home around 5 a.m. this morning with plans to be home by dinner, maybe. So, I'm on my own with the kids today, which isn't too different from our usual Monday through Fridays, except that we didn't see Mama at wake-up.

And today we had a special outing, to have breakfast with the firefighters, which we enjoyed greatly last year. Except Bud and Sis both remembered the "smoke house" where kids go into a special trailer, learn about safety, hear the fire alarm go off, and then crawl out of the house as it fills with smoke. They did fine last year, until they were separated during the window exit and Bud panicked. And he panicked this year just seeing the trailer. And while the pancakes were good and crawling over all the trucks was fun, he couldn't quite shake his fear of the trailer.

Then, there was the fire demonstration which Sis was really keen on seeing; Bud was terrified. And there I was, literally being pulled in two directions, facing a difficult decision: gratify the curiosity of Sis and see something new and interesting, or respect Bud's fears and stay back. There was no middle ground--where Bud wanted to stand, Sis couldn't see--I couldn't do a "zone" defense. And "man-to-man" only works if your numbers are equal. Thankfully, Mama Teacher and family were there too and helped with dividing up the kiddos (thanks, Mama Teacher!).

I asked her afterwards if, as a professional educator, she had a suggestion in such situations and she didn't. Generally, when the kids and I go on outings, it's to activities that don't have so many choices (sure, you can walk different ways through the department store, but there aren't usually any time constraints, need to go in a special order, or fear of what we're doing). So, I haven't had much experience with coping with being in two places at once.

Which makes today yet another "appreciate Mama" day.

Lunch Brought to You by the Letters P and W and the Number 10

Numbers and letters are everywhere at our house: in the house floorplan, the arrangement of our plates and silverware, the way we sit.

Today at lunch, Bud wandered over to my plate and put a fork down beside it, "Look, you're eating the number 10!"

And Sis was "w-sitting," the term from the doctor that probably started the whole trend of looking for letters and numbers drawn out in the world around us. The kitchen table is the "hole" in either a "b" or a "q," depending on where you are standing in our kitchen. Bud has sat with his legs arranged in a "4," with one leg tucked and the other extended. And the whole first floor of our house is a zero or an "o." Shadows present a whole array of possiblities.

It's like living with two budding Robert Langdons! Let's just hope life doesn't turn out like Brown's books . . . .

Another Tango

Congrats to Justin Richardson and Peter Parnell, author of And Tango Makes Three, the book about the male penguins at Central Park Zoo who adopt and raise a baby girl penguin, who themselves have just had a baby girl. I didn't know that the book, which we love, is the most banned book in America for the third year running. That makes me sad. But new babies in loving families who raise them to embrace diversity are the best antidote to prejudice, including that which leads to banning books.

Date Night

Ode to an Evening

Sunset over the sound

because the babysitter knows how to put the kids to bed

and we left early.

Green tomato pie, so sweet with

caramelized onions, and

moussaka, creamy with crunchy pine nuts.

End note of brandied fruit.

But not the end.

Which comes later, after

strolling the aisles through mysteries, crafts, and

cookbooks, and a promise not to do dishes

or laundry when we get home.