I am drawn to things a little off, a little quirky. Like this measurement in the scones recipe I got from my food editor friend:
Put an egg in a measuring cup. Add cream to just between 3/4 and 1 cup.
Makes me smile every time.
Rarely have I looked forward to fall with such unabashed desperation. Not a hot weather person, I.
So last week when we walked from the heat of the day into the concrete coolness of Costco and I saw the paperwhites, well, I almost hugged the display. Thank goodness I didn’t. How embarrassing would that be?
My second reaction was the headline for this post popping into my head, along with The Iceman Cometh, which would be the old entertainment reference used before Game of Thrones. Haven’t seen either, actually.
At least all this only happened in my head. Can you imagine me hugging bags of bulbs shouting random cold-weather references at the Costco entrance? Why did you say yes, you could imagine that?
Figured it was time to load up on winter food, too. Hello Panko Chicken Nuggets, pass the hot sauce!
Then, just a couple of days later, came the long-range weather forecast from The Old Farmer’s Almanac (via Elle Decor. . . whatever). Thinking cool thoughts. . .
Please excuse me, I need to go in my closet and stare longingly at my sweaters. It’s still too hot and muggy to even touch them.
This is one of Montana’s favorite places to take in the world. Naturally, she wouldn’t move with the camera pointed at her. I wanted to capture her in-and-out move: She wraps her front paws around a baluster and squeezes herself through. The move was so cute — if a bit hair-raising — when she was a kitten; now it’s just comical.
Been thinking I need to get back to the blog; this long, hot summer has been absolutely de-energizing and demotivating. Where is that damn pink bunny when you need it?
Time to ease back into the task. This pic seemed like the right thing for a light Monday post. Hope all has been well with you.
Is the trip about 300 miles or is it a 328-mile (or insert odometer reading here) trip? That distinction without a difference has generated much conversation over many years about scores of trips along essentially the same route.
The difference is in driving styles. And this trip provided a striking contrast. Going to the cousins gathering, my brother choose a route that took two tollways, two four-lane highways, a quick dogleg between a tollway and a highway, and a few side streets. My brother has always been a car guy. I suggested a route, obviously ignored, that involved two four-lane highways and the bare minimum of side streets. Ahem. He couldn’t understand why I suggested that route, I couldn’t understand why he made the trip so complicated.
I was stopping at my goddaughter’s home on the way out of town; my brother’s suggested routes weren’t complicated but numerous — how to get around construction, highways vs. tollways, avoiding traffic (I was leaving during the Monday morning rush), etc.
Traffic be damned, I took two-four lane highways to the tollway, straight into construction. As traffic thickened, doubt arose. But I rocked the roadways, making excellent time. Then there was getting from the goddaughter’s house to home. Again, many options were offered. That seems to be very much a Chicago thing; drives the hubs (pun intended) nuts. All the better he wasn’t with me this trip.
Fortunately, she offered the perfect route: Plank Road turns into Peace Road which connects to the tollway. Mid-morning drive along a rural two-lane highway. Blue skies, green fields, and just the right amount of gentle turns and rolling hills; nothing could be more peaceful.
I may be related to my brother by blood, but I’m clearly related to my goddaughter in spirit.
(image from Google Maps)
Just got home from a fab, fun time with the fam. We’re a small clan. As my brother says, we could hold a family reunion in a phone booth. With spouses and kids, we might break 20. Speaking of the brother, in the spring he said, You occasionally exchange emails with Cousin 1; why don’t you ask her about getting together. She emailed back, That sounds good, and suggested meeting at her sister’s house. That covers the first cousins. Yes, we are a small clan. Cousin 2 rose to the challenge and we invaded her home on Sunday. Second Cousins 1 and 2, also sisters, joined in.
My big effort for this get together was baking cookies and driving the farthest. Yes, I’m feeling a little guilty right now. . . And the hubs stayed home sick. *cough*really!!*cough*whatever*cough* But it was so good to see everyone, he wasn’t really missed. Sorry hubs, your loss. It may have been the heat, but I even enjoyed talking with Cousin 1’s husband. . .(insert winky emoticon here!!).
Over the course of the afternoon, just about everyone’s phones came out to share pics — of children, of pets, of home remodeling, of celebrations, of hobbies — but nobody took pictures. We were too busy being in the moment. So these pictures are of my lovely lavender; more about that later.
Cousin 1 and her hubs have put much effort into tracing their ancestry, and we are the lucky beneficiaries of her efforts: She presented each of us with a personalized tables of our lineage. The two of them have traveled around the Midwest and to Germany visiting and researching the places from whence we all came. (One German cousin contributed to the research and has practically joined the family.) Through the afternoon we added stories and details to fill in and expand on the well-researched facts. With more and more sharing about long-lost and long-gone relatives, the table figuratively got more and more crowded.
We’re also not a tight-knit group. We stay in touch, but we’re really, emotionally speaking, arm’s-length Germans. So a rich and full discussion of family was deeply rewarding but a little out of our collective character.
Of course, as we headed out, there was the chorus — We need to do this more often! Personally, I’m just very glad we did this, now. No need to put a weight on the future.
Bits of the conversation played and replayed in my head as I drove home. And just as I was feeling quite content with who we are, the song Que Sera, Sera by Pink Martini began. The song isn’t a favorite, but in the moment it had me all teary-eyed driving down the highway. Can’t really say why that song pinpointed the feeling, but it did. I got so emotional I forgot to curse the guy in Impala who, for the fifth time, passed me and then slowed down. Really dude!!
A brief shower started just as I pulled in the driveway. The rain removed the dust and sunshine that followed made the lavender amazingly vibrant. The modest effort I expended in the spring yielded brilliant results, the same way a brief email exchange lead to a lovely event.
That makes me one happy little bee.
Look! He says. Hmmmm, says me.
It’s a rock that looks like a potato! He says. Sorta, says me.
You can post it on your blog! He says.
That’s why he doesn’t have a blog. . . .
Each May for the past 20 years, give or take, the hubs’ fishing buddy arrives for two days of fishing and male bonding for them, and blissful peace and quiet for me.
My home office/studio doubles as the guest room so there’s a major cleanup before said fishing buddy arrives.
This involves dusting the bookshelves that run along two walls. An annual cleanup is sufficient as there’s not much dust up there.
When a significant chance of rain moved the trip up by two days, less than a day was left for clean up. No, I do not work ahead on housekeeping.
Alas, the bookshelves did not get dusted. Oh darn. . .
I can only hope it’s a lotto win – but I wish for that every week. . .
At least the hoping and guessing has a reasonable time frame.
Real, real, fake!
Walking the pups along the trail, we occasionally see a pair of wood ducks fly by. The event is unpredictable, so no photo. But this fake goose awaits us every trip.
Look at the center of the pic.
And again. It’s an eye test. . .
There she is in all her fallen-branch glory! I call her Nessie.
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