Jack has had enough of this work-a-day world and is in need of some downtime.
We're off for vacation tomorrow and my lists have lists. See you in a week!
My camera came back to me just as my garden erupted into a pink-a-palooza.
I particularly like the butterfly the blooms attracted.
Wikepedia says the peony is named after Paeon or Paean, a student of Asclepius, the Greek god of medicine and healing. Asclepius became jealous of his pupil; Zeus saved Paeon from the wrath of Asclepius by turning him into the peony flower. Hard not to be jealous of such a shameless hussy.
A lovesong for a peony.
In Windsor, the tradition is to have a parade of graduates going to prom. It's awesome to see what these crazy kids get rigged up and transport has included their dad's car all shined up, antique cars, horse and carriage, tractor (the high school is next to a cow pasture but no one's rode a cow . . . yet), flat bed truck with lawn chairs on the back etc etc but few (if any) limos. We caught the tail end coming home from supper (the school's up the street from us; we live across from said pasture) and the flat bed truck blew it's air horn at us so B was in his glory. Here's our tuck-in conversation:
"Mummy, there were trucks!"
"I know! They were going to prom. That's when you're all done school and you're so happy you have a party that's called 'prom'."
"A party with trucks?"
"Yup."
(spoken in quiet awe) "Wowwww . . . "
"Will you go to prom when you get big?"
"Yup! I drive a fire engine to a prom. You come with me?"
"Sure, I'll go to prom with you! You're gonna wear your tuxedo?"
"Mmhm. I look good."
"What will mommy wear?"
"Hmmmmm . . . you buy a tuxedo, too, mummy, Just like me."
"It's a date."
I am so mad! Not the kind of mad where you kick things and then are extra mad because your toes hurt but you know that that's nobody's fault but your own. This is the kind of mad where you simmer and stew and every once in a while give a big "Pfffff" while you fold clothes and reflect on people's rudeness.
Pfffff!
We all loaded up to get groceries this morning which is a big outing for us. Jack and Harry were in the shopping cart and I was getting Bruce out of the van when two women walked by.
"Oh look, twins!" says one (this is very common, part of the 'freak factor' of having two babies at once and not so bad but I do mind when they point at us).
"God bless her." says the other.
Now, let me be clear. This was not the kind of "God bless you!" that a soft, sonsy old lady gives you after hugging you at church. Not the polite but vague "Bless you!" you get when you sneeze. Not even the saccharine "God bless us, every one!" spoken of the Tiny Tims of the world. This was mean. Rude. Spoken in a way that wasn't meant for me to hear (I hope). This was said with the implication that twins = your life is filled with woe and chaos never before experienced. Aaaaaaannnnnnd this is not the first time I've heard it or other such rudeness.
What were the twins doing? Pulling each other's hair? Sitting in filthy rags? Nope, just looking around in awe at all the cars. They were even dressed nice and had an extra careful face wash simply because this mama is getting a little sensitive to all the negitive comments she gets when we go out. If people assume that my life is hell, I don't want to add fuel to the fire. The next person to comment (and we hadn't even made it inside yet!) told me how lovely they were and I almost hugged her.
Are twins hard work? Yes. Are they the terrible curse so many people assume them to be? Not today.
Should you see a mama out with twins or more, don't say anything negitive, don't even say "I see you've got your hands full!" which you might mean in admiriation; it's just the last 50 people to comment said the exact. same. thing. and we're ready to smack the 51st, full hands or not.
I have to admit, it DID give me a sense of satisfaction when we passed the godblessyous in the aisle and Bruce was nicely walking beside me holding some groceries and Jack had a fit of the giggles which made Harry smile and I looked in their basket and saw it was full of trashy 'food' and smugly thought of the cholesteral and heart problems that it would cause. Vindictive? Maybe. God's gonna have to work on my charitable nature when He's blessing me, I guess.
I hate heat. More specifically, I hate humidity. It gives me migraines, makes me cranky and we won't get into what it does to my hair. So, knowing that we were in for a few days of stickiness, we went to the (air-conditioned) library and got a ton of books. Laying on the cooler floor on cushions, we plowed through and checked a bunch off our list.
There's one I absolutely love ~ Bear Snores On by Karma Wilson
It's sweet, there's a 'chorus' that pre-schoolers can chime in on and from a read-aloud perspective, it scans beautifully; the words just drip off my tongue. I highly recommend it for anyone reading to wee ones. Here's a snippet:
An itty-bitty mouse,
pitter-pat, tiptoe,
creep-crawls in the cave
from the fluff-cold snow.
Mouse squeaks, "Too damp,
too dank, too dark."
So he lights wee twigs
with a small, hot spark.
The coals pip-pop and the wind doesn't stop.
But the bear snores on.
I've read so many children's stories that are crap and that the author couldn't have bothered to read out loud that this was a real treat.
I'm constantly trolling Zoic's website for pictures of my sister's wedding. Yes, they had a 21 hour drive home and yes, they do have other responsibilities but we had such a great time (and he's such a fabulous photographer) that I feel that my children will be bereft of my attention until I can stop staring at the site. For the love of my children!! Post the pics!!
To tide you over, here are some pics of my handsome son as ring-bearer, taken by Stewart Rand, one of Sarah's church members.
Andrew took him in to practise and thought he was going to be too shy with all the people.
Bruce interpreted my direction to walk slow to mean walk sneaky. You know the walk; high steps, arms up in ninja stance, worthy to be a member of the Department of Silly Walks
Three-quarters of the way down the aisle, satisfied that every eye was on him, he "fell" down.
Don't worry, folks! He's okay.
A highlight for me was getting to chat with people whom I know best through their blogs. How modern is THAT?
Jackie, you didn't trip! That's AWESOME! Sean, Ruth and the Heir with Hair, I wish I could have chatted longer with you but I look forward to more posts; it was kind of disconcerting to see you in 3D, though. ;o)
Gotta go check Zoic's blog again. Maybe he posted while I was posting.
From Better Homes and Gardens
(and no, Jeff, there is no coffee in a coffee cake!)
FRUIT FILLING
3/4 c cut-up rhubarb
3/4 c cut-up strawberries
1/4 c water
In small saucepan, bring these 3 to a boil, reduce heat, simmer covered for 5 minutes or until fruit is tender.
1/4 cup sugar
2 T cornstarch
Combine and stir into fruit mixture over med heat until thickened and bubbly. Set aside.
Preheat oven to 350*
DRY MIXTURE
1 1/2 c flour
3/4 c sugar
1/2 t baking powder
1/4 t baking soda
Combine above 4 into medium mixing bowl.
Cut in 1/4 c butter until mixture resembles coarse crumbs.
Make a well in the middle and set aside.
WET MIXTURE
1 beaten egg
1/2 t vanilla
1/2 c butter milk
(if you don't have butter milk, make sour milk. Put 1 T lemon juice or vinegar in a glass measuring cup. Add enough milk to make one cup. Stir. Let mixture set 5 minutes before using. *NOTE* this makes 1 cup of sour milk and this recipe only calls for 1/2 c)
In another bowl, combine these 3.
Add wet mixture to dry mixture all at once.
Using a wooden spoon, stir until just moistened (will be lumpy).
Spread half of this batter in an ungreased 8x8x2 pan.
Spread fruit filling over this.
Drop remaining batter over the filling in small mounds.
TOPPING
1/4 c flour
1/4 c sugar
Mix in a small bowl.
Cut in 2 T butter until crumby.
Sprinkle over coffee cake.
Bake 40-45 min or until golden.
Cool slightly; serve warm.
This was a test-drive of a new recipe for Sarah's brunch ~ great success!!
I kept this covered on the kitchen table. The next day, it was still good but a little dry. Best served the day made. I wonder how it freezes . . . MIL suggested stewing the fruit while it's in season and then freezing that in batches, adding the cornstarch and sugar when you make the dessert. Good idea!
Hmmm . . . those look like big bite marks. Please don't think because we are gauche enough to keep the knife in the pan for easy access, we eat from said pan like a trough!
Sister getting married.
Much happiness, many details.
Too many details floating in brain to focus enough to post.
Offering this instead:
No this isn't about superheroes. It's about a moment of beauty, of wonder, of the divine. I was given the 'Emily' series as a gift from my sponsor when I was baptised in 1986 and they have always moved me. What follows is from Emily of New Moon and what the passage describes is something I'm always keeping an inner ear scanning for; a sensual sonar, if you will and what this blog was initially created for. Beauty in the simple.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And then, for one glorious, supreme moment, came "the flash."
Emily called it that, although she felt that the name didn't exactly describe it. It couldn't be described--not even to Father, who always seemed a little puzzled by it. Emily never spoke of it to any one else.
It had always seemed to Emily, ever since she could remember, that she was very, very near to a world of wonderful beauty. Between it and herself hung only a thin curtain; she could never draw the curtain aside--but sometimes, just for a moment, a wind fluttered it and then it was as if she caught a glimpse of the enchanting realm beyond--only a glimpse--and heard a note of unearthly music.
This moment came rarely--went swiftly, leaving her breathless with the inexpressible delight of it. She could never recall it--never summon it--never pretend it; but the wonder of it stayed with her for days. It never came twice with the same thing. To-night the dark boughs against that far-off sky had given it. It had come with a high, wild note of wind in the night, with a shadow wave over a ripe field, with a greybird lighting on her window-sill in a storm, with the singing of "Holy, holy, holy" in church, with a glimpse of the kitchen fire when she had come home on a dark autumn night, with the spirit-like blue of ice palms on a twilit pane, with a felicitous new word when she was writing down a "description" of something. And always when the flash came to her Emily felt that life was a wonderful, mysterious thing of persistent beauty.
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Peepers? Check.
Smell of cut grass? Check.
First beer of the season? You betcha.
I like my beer freezing and sharp. Andrew leans toward hoppy and room temp. We {heart} Rickard's Taster Pack!
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Tara M said:
Don't be too heartbroken when he stands you up for some pretty young thing! Cute story! read more
on Save the date ~ June 2024 -
Like one of your girls! read more
on Save the date ~ June 2024