Lemonade Pie

This is totally naughty cheater kind of pie. No cooking, nothing but opening ingredients, mixing, and pouring into a pie shell (and I use a store-bought shortbread myself).

1 can eagle brand sweetened condensed milk (obviously it doesn't have to be eagle brand, but that size can)
6 oz frozen lemonade concentrate
1 regular container of cool whip (I use the lowfat, but not fat-free, variety).

Mix. Pour into pie crust. Refrigerate.

I buy a 12 oz can of lemonade and a double sized coolwhip; two cans of eagle brand milk and I get two pies. Mmm.

Almost. So Close.

I swam 7/8 of a mile Thursday evening. I was going to swim the full mile tonight (Friday night, that is, haven't been to bed yet)...but then this downpour and thunder and it didn't happen.

I made lemonade pie instead. Dang it. But no big thing: I'll do the mile Monday or Tuesday.

Don't ask about biking. It's been so hot, and when it isn't hot, it's raining this summer. So I'm about 300 miles short of my goal right now--of course, I have until I put the bikes up, which, with this weather, won't happen until after Thanksgiving. So maybe.

Probably.

Moviegoer

I've been to the theater 4 times in the past month. This is a record since Sophia was born. Three of the films were kid-centered, but still. A record.

We saw Toy Story 3, which included a silent Totoro presence in several scenes. That of course made my day. I don't know how I'd rate this against the other two--I very much liked the second one in comparison with the first, as a mom, that is. The scary warped damaged toys under the neighbor kid's bed was just too intense in the first one. The second one was a good story and although--was she played by Joan Cusack?--the cowgirl was a little intense, I enjoyed it. I liked this one, too, although sometimes it feels like it's time for something new. Jane Austen didn't write Pride & Prejudice II, you know? She did the same sort of thing but with new problems and characters. After a while it gets tiresome to have sequel after sequel. But that's about as critical as I'll get because I like going to movies and I have like everything Pixar has put out, with the exception of Finding Nemo. I do wish they'd take a hint from Studio Ghibli and have some powerful girl protagonists, but that aside, they do good stuff.

Then Maeve and I saw Ramona and Beezus, with no hope of it being any good. I was afraid it would be sanitized for our protection the way Shiloh was. But, while definitely for Maeve's age group and not mine, it still kept my attention. It's an amalgam of several of the Ramona books, which are some of my favorite kids books ever. I wasn't Ramona growing up but I've become her as an adult. Gah. But Maeve IS Ramona, in the flesh, and there were parts of the film that really got to her. She's tenderhearted and takes things too hard...but I think she identified so strongly with Ramona that it was difficult for her to not want to reach out and change things. As a film, it was a decent amalgam. It didn't gloss over the stuff that happens to the Quimby family (in the first 15 minutes, I just KNEW it would). Dad loses his job, Mom and Dad fight, the trickle down effect of being kids in a stressed household, etc. It is there. Somewhat sanitized, but the books weren't gritty, for goodness sake. And I like that they had brunettes play all the female family members.

Mike and I, and Leo, took Maeve to see Despicable Me one night when Sophia had a spend-the-night party down the block. Another film we had no expectations for. And it was ok. Steve Carell in an unidentified slavic accent playing an arch-villain who adopts three little girls from an orphanage to involve them in a plot to get back a shrink-gun that he's stolen (and has been then stolen from him). Strange little pill capsule shaped minions living in his bat-cavernous basement...the little girls obviously win over his heart and etc. Not one I need to rush out and buy on DVD. But it was good distraction.

After that one, we were walking to the car and Maeve said, "This was such a good night. I wish we could go to movies every night!"

Then, to totally switch gears, Mike and I saw Winter's Bone last night. Set in the Missouri Ozarks, near the Arkansas line, it is the story of a 17 year old girl who has dropped out of high school to take care of her 9 year old brother and 5 year old sister, because her mother is catatonic and her father is out on bond for cooking meth, who knows where. The sheriff comes by to let her know that the bond her father got was based on their house and land--and his court date was only a few days away. So she sets out to try to find him before she and her family get turned out into the Ozark winter. Things, predictably and unpredictably, do not go well.

It was filmed in southern Missouri, and they used real houses and extras from the town. The wardrobe folks brought in bunches of new coats and carharts and stuff--and traded for worn out clothes from locals so that the actors would be more convincing.

It was completely convincing. Completely gripping. I mean, her uncle just needed an eye patch and he could have been played by my uncle Rick. Mike's uncle John Paul could have been an extra. Mike and I, well, I'm three steps from an urban poverty and drug culture, so there are different rules to that game, but Mike is just as close to rural poverty--we left the movie and as we walked to the car, I said, "I'm so glad we went to college." Now, it would take more than not going to college to wind up cooking meth in southern Missouri, but if our dads hadn't? If there hadn't been the launch into the middle class that both our families did in the late 70s/early 80s? Anyway, it was chilling. Everything about it was at once familiar and frightening.

Afterward, Mike said he wanted to make an anti-travelogue of states based on movies that just sort of turned on the camera on a place and really let the viewer soak it in. This would be Missouri's version...things like Flesh and Bone for Texas, Brokeback Mountain for Wyoming, the Cooler for Nevada...movies that make you really never want to go to those places.

So that's my movie run for the year, probably. If you see depressing films (some people don't--I usually don't, although the ones I avoid are tear jerkers, and this wasn't that), Winter's Bone was worth it. If you see kids films, well, you've probably seen Toy Story 3 already. But Ramona and Beezus wasn't the awful version I was expecting. Really.

Girl Scout Blogging

So I might become a Girl Scout blogger.

I'll have to clean up my act to put it on the road.

Ten on Tuesday: 10 things to do instead of watching TV

I don't watch TV. I don't mean that the way it sounds. I watch a lot of stuff, but it's all on netflix or DVDs. We don't have cable, and so I don't get a lot of the fun stuff people talk about, and I don't have any sort of good reception and so, in effect, I don't get network TV either. But I do watch screens. Being fidgety, though, I never just watch. I'm always sorting laundry or sewing or knitting or cleaning the computer desk or doing something. So my first list in my head included some of those things but, really, TV can happen during them. So then I had to think again. I also tried to limit myself to things to do at home. And this is what I came up with:

1. Cook. I've been in an email conversation about food and cooking and it's gotten me on a cooking kick. Sunday I made pickles, and last night I made pesto. We've been eating straight from the garden for a few weeks now and it makes me so happy. Sunday night I made pasta with an eggplant-based sauce. Seriously. It's one of my favorite things to do around the house, as long as there are people to cook for. I know you can technically watch TV, but we can't because the TV isn't in the kitchen.

2. Lectio. As opposed to fluff reading, which I can do with the TV going in the background, I can't do lectio that way. Lectio divina is an ancient Christian/monastic practice that focuses on quality, not quantity. The way Sr. Jean explained it: open the bible. Start reading. Stop when something strikes you. Get cozy with that passage. Move through it and in it. And then leave the door open for what God has to say. You can't do this and watch 30 Rock at the same time.

3. Listen to the radio. We have the best NPR station I have heard in person--I'm sure there are east coast ones that beat us, but 90.7 KWMU is amazing. Cooking in the kitchen, listening to American Routes or the Sunday night jazz show or Marketplace or Tavis Smiley (where I learned last week that Harold Perrineau Jr. has a music career?) or Diane Rehm or whatever. Sometimes it drives me crazy (On Point) and sometimes (This American Life) it makes me cry but it always makes me think.

4. Sit on the porch. There is always something to learn there.

5. Related to #4, talk to a neighbor. Often on the porch there are other people in sight. And there's always something to say.

6. Play a game. My girls like to play games. They bridge between reader and non-reader, though, and Sophia wants to do Apples to Apples and Maeve wants to do Jr Monopoly. But we try to balance it. Chinese checkers, the beginnings of chess, the dread monopoly, Set, the game with the cards that you make a path (called "the game of the path" but I forget the full title), and so forth.

7. Read aloud. I used to dread bedtime storytime. I don't get why, but I did. And then I split it into two stories and now I like it (so it wasn't the time that bugged me...). In the middle of Ramona the Pest and Mossflower. Takes a little bit of gear-switching but they're good for each girl who listening.

8. Organize something. The basement, the attic, the drawers, whatever. Radio works well but TV distracts me too fast.

9. Paint. I mean on an architectural scale, not canvas. Also in this category would be lay new floor and refinish furniture. I have a dining room full of all of that coming soon.

10. Read blogs. The ones I read are so so much more entertaining than sitcoms and reruns.

Pesto, Pickles, Putting Up

I made pesto for the first time in two or three years. Four double batches are in my freezer and I have enough basil picked over and in the fridge for 3 more double batches tomorrow (I am low on parmesan cheese and will need to hit Viviano's, my Italian grocer of choice). Seven double batches (I call them double batches because they are double the recipe but my containers fit that much) means pesto for the entire fall, winter, and early spring. Seriously. We use about 1/3 a batch for any given pesto-based dish. Yeah, we eat it with crackers and take it with us to potlucks, but only in February and March when we're tired of it.

I made pickles, same as last year, but this time they were my cucumbers. Eleven quarts of flat-sliced cucumbers, garlic dilled and put up for a month or more to set. We have one jar of garlic dill spears left from last year that we opened tonight. That lasted out perfectly.

But my cucumbers, assuming all goes half as well as it's gone thus far, are going to give me more and more. We're eating them almost every day, mostly the ones that have started to yellow at the top and are going to seed, saving the smaller ones until I have a congregation. I'm doing bread & butter next time.

I'm waiting to see what my tomatoes will do--they are blooming like crazy and there are green ones on the vines. It is very possible that 2010 could be one of those years I reminisce about garden-wise. But I'd need a lot of tomatoes to beat past seasons of tomato sauce and salsa verde in the freezer or in jars in the basement. I miss the salsa verde and half-way hope the late harvest gets threatened with frost and we have to bring them in green.

My dehydrator is in full force, too, putting up other things. I'm making a vegetable soup base for the winter. Right now it's mostly dried garlic chives, zucchini & yellow squash, some spinach, and teensy chunks of beets. Anything from the CSA that seems soup-able and I know we won't want YET AGAIN THIS WEEK goes into the dehydrator for the soup base. I figure I'll dump a bunch of basic herbs and spices into it and keep it on hand for all those venison stews and chicken pot pies coming soon.

Indeed coming soon.

I didn't make jam this year, which I'm starting to regret already. I have a jar of strawberry Rachel made for me, and a jar of strawberry Mary made for me. One jar of blackberry from last year still on the shelf with them, and that's it. I eat way too much jelly for this to be it. But blueberry jam doesn't do it for me and I didn't pick anything else this year. So I'm not sure what to do. I am not an apple butter fan, but I could do apple jelly...or maybe it isn't too late for blackberry. Hmm. Every year is different, though, so maybe this won't be the year of jam.

You know I haven't even been on this thyroid medication for a year yet? Everything is so much better....

Anyway, so I'm putting up for fall. Getting cozy. Thinking about building two more raised beds, in full exposure (to sun and squirrels) to plant things that squirrels don't care about: hot peppers, onions, garlic, herbs. I'm going to make it this fall for next spring's garden. Maybe I'll manage to consolidate the garlic to one location. Haha. Even after 4 double batches of garlic--which is 64 cloves of garlic total--the basket is insanely filled with garlic.

Enough rambling about the garden. I need to go lie down next to my baby for a short summer's nap.

The Geek Shall Inherit The Earth

So that bizarre Christianist cult that protests at military funerals with hate-filled non-sequitor signs? They decided, for whatever reason, that comic book convention-goers were the next group of sinners to take aim at.

Comic books. You know, like Batman. Superman. The friggin Justice League. I guess I had them all wrong. Pure evil? This church group certainly thought so. They went down to San Diego's Comic Con and set up their little protest, complete with police escort.

But across the intersection, the comic book folk staged their own protest.

I've heard of others, at funerals and other more sober events than comic book fun, that become violent and/or increase the tension and hatred. But this counter-protest made their own absurdist signage and chants and stood there looking like jackasses right alongside the real deal. The comic book enthusiasts carried signs like "The cylons destroyed the 12 colonies for your sins"; "God eats pizza"; "God hates Jedi" and "All glory to the HYPNO-TOAD." And references to Odin and Thor and Princess Bride. Photos are great here.

I know a lot of comic book geeks. I'm married to one and he's helping raise 2, probably 3, more. This story made me so happy because the church group? They packed up their junk and their American flag saronged butts and headed somewhere else.

Highlights from the week

Mike's been out of town, all week long. He left Sunday after church and gets back soon today. Thank goodness because I'm done. Toast. But here are some highlights from the week:

*Sophia danced at a show, went to two classes and a private lesson. Tomorrow is our feis. Who knows? She did well at our feis last year so perhaps things will go well again. I sometimes forget that she didn't even have a school dress until this time last year. This time last year she was only dancing her soft shoe dances, for that matter. Come a long way baby.

*We went to my in-laws Tuesday night and stayed through until Thursday. Kids played with cousins, we had good food, didn't leave the house the entire time. I took naps. Leo wasn't stressed out because there was more than one adult to talk to.

*Maeve used my toothbrush but realized her mistake before I did and admitted it. This is huge, frankly, not sneaking around and trying to Ramona-style fix it before Mom notices. And we had extra toothbrushes. So all was well. Funny, though--she had thrown a fit because she didn't want pink this time (so mine was pink).

*Maeve also had sudden money to burn--I found an old birthday card of hers with $20 in it. Her trip to Target had the goal of a Barbie with a little sister (sigh...) but then we passed the Avatar: The Last Airbender display and came home with a hideous blue mask and two short swords instead. I found myself happier than I expected at her choice.

*I have been soaking in "Leverage" and am now in love with Christian Kane. Ah well. I'm a dork.

*More Sunbonnet Sues finished.

*Started watching "Doc Martin" when I ran out of Leverage. Brit show about a surgeon at the top of his profession who develops a fear of blood and so takes a job as a GP in a little seaside village. Kind of like "Northern Exposure" except that instead of being naive and goofy, the doctor is dysfunctional in a stereotypical surgeon-esque way (terrible with people, always diagnosing, tense, etc). The village is filled with quirky people and I suspect it will become like Murder She Wrote or Hart to Hart and there will be far too many bizarre medical problems for one seaside village to possibly contain. But it's good Sunbonnet Sue background.

*Leo misses Mike like nobody's business. Wow.

*So do I and I'm tired of reading about everybody's vacations. I want one. Sigh. But instead it's feis tomorrow and back to normal life.

Quote for today

A million people can call the mountains a fiction, yet it need not trouble you as you stand atop them. --Randall Munroe, xkcd

A few open letters

In the spirit of McSweeney's "Open Letters to Persons or Entities Unlikely To Respond":

1. Dear fellow I-55 driver: I'm sorry that the highway department decided to move us down to one lane and decrease our speed limit to 60. It was a big hassle, trust me. I like having the second lane in order to get away from angry drivers with their brights on, just for instance. So when that dipshit driver from Tennessee pulled out in front of me from the rest area, there wasn't really anything I could do. I couldn't move over and pass him. I couldn't get off the highway in any safe way. I just had to follow him. It also wasn't my fault that he decided that 52 miles an hour was his best bet. But no matter how close you got to my bumper, close enough that I could read classified ads by your headlights, close enough that you shined your brights into my son's sleeping face, thus waking up and making him cry for 8 more miles of your psychological torture technique, I was not going to tailgate the Tennesse Dipshit. And therefore, we were all going to go 52 miles an hour. Does this make sense? I couldn't push the car in front of me any more than you could push me. Not without serious damage and police records getting involved. So next time you're in such a hurry to get to Cape Girardeau, I might suggest taking an alternate route. Or at least consider that stressing me out really doesn't get you there any faster. I hope you enjoyed your time in Cape.

2. Dear Land's End: my kids like your school uniforms just fine. My 5 year old is so excited to start kindergarten in your jumpers with the little school logo on them. And the jumpers and skorts seem to wear like iron. My husband is also a fan of your cotton twill business casual pants. And I love your dress shirts because they require so little ironing to look good. Over all, we like your company and its products. I watch for the free shipping promotions in my email. But could you evaulate your sizes? My husband's, of course, are based on math and therefore always fit. Inseams and neck circumferences and all that. But your kids' sizes? Sophia wears an 8, sometimes a 10, in everything. But I measured her waist today in order to find her a few skorts for next year, and she's suddenly a 14? Why is that? What is intuitive about these numbers? If I bought her a 14 from another catalog company or from a brick and mortar store, she and Maeve could wear it together. I know she's tall, and so I tend to buy big regardless when I'm trying to get a jumper or a dress to be long enough, but her pants? A 14? Your women's sizes are the same problem. I can order from other catalogs and know things will fit. Why not match your numbers to other places? Or perhaps this is a more deeply ingrained problem in society. Perhaps women and children should be based on math, too. But I don't know who to write that letter to. Thanks.

3. Dear Preschool we visited the other day for a program but I won't mention the name, ok, it's a preschool, not an old folks home. I get that. But there's got to be at least one other parent in the world who pushes a stroller as well as holding a hand of a young child. Every entrance to your place had at least three steps. The one that didn't was blocked off by an emergency door. Are you a preschool designed for only children? Nobody can have a younger sibling? Or did you expect me to leave the baby with the nanny? Hmm.

4. Dear woman at Citygarden. We were there eating lunch with Miss Bridget and another child, perhaps you remember us? You were the one who rushed over to alert me that Leo was eating a hardboiled egg yolk. It seemed so urgent to let me know. I know my face betrayed me, I was so puzzled by your mini-frenzy. "Most people don't want kids to eat them!" you tried to explain after you pointed out the yolk in his hand. "They're just so....dry," you sighed, backing away. I probably should have thanked you for the concern, but I was just so confused by the panic, I couldn't manage it. I just stared. I'm sorry. You're weird but you seemed genuinely concerned for Leo's, well, something. Safety. Or palate.

All for now. All my kvetching is out for the moment.

People are...just wrong sometimes

Sophia entered a manga art contest today. It was at our local library. Well attended and well handled, there were 14 entries. She wasn't in the top three, but she was competing against teenagers and the top three were really good. But she was definitely in the middle of the pack (I glanced at the vote tally). So that was fine. She had a good time and won a pair of chopsticks.

What was weird was on our way out. We were heading over to the main desk to check out books while we were there anyhow...and one of the contestants and her mother were leaving as well. She was explaining to her mother that it was called manga. They both seemed puzzled. I guess they had thought it was straight cartooning contest or something. They looked at the flier again, standing there for a moment. Then the daughter said, "Some kind of Japanese something, Japanese cartoons or something."

"Well," the mother said through tight lips. I couldn't take my eyes off them by this point. They both had this air about them like they'd been misinformed about the waters at Casablanca. "I guess that explains why there were so many--"

And she used a racial slur. In the library. In full hearing of small children. My small children. Luckily, neither of my girls seemed to notice she'd said anything. Sophia was busy learning how to use the self-check-out and Maeve was playing some sort of elaborate fantasy game involving going to a bus stop with her pets.

But it's so weird, my reaction. I just averted my eyes, like they'd suddenly called out something crazy like "I have leprosy!" I considered this on the way home. It wouldn't have done any good to say anything, right? Maybe if Sophia had asked me what she was talking about. Maybe. I find that people who use words like that tend to have deeply ingrained problems. They have a long way to go and I'm probably not part of their path. It's not like a kid said it, someone correctable. Hmm. Why is it I'd be willing to smack down a teenager, a teenager I didn't even know, but I don't feel like it's my place to say something to a woman just a few years older than I am?

We finished our check out process and headed out to the car. The girls compared books. Sophia asked if we could frame her picture. Of course, I told her. Cute things.

In related news, our local branch has a manga club. Someone wants to join.

Buena Vista

Mmmmm Irish coffee (very jealous of Pete & Kaylen right now...)

Expanding horizons

So Maeve is officially taking a break from Irish Dance. I think this is a good thing--she was bored in class and wasn't really soaking anything up anymore. She hasn't been since May and she hasn't once asked to go. This Saturday was going to be her first competition and we decided a long time ago that maybe just not. We'll revisit the idea in January. With the name Maeve, well, what can you do?

She says she wants to do, in the meantime, tap, cheerleading, and tae kwon do. The last choice will happen this fall--our neighbors attend a class nearby and so that can be our gateway. The other two? Blame girl scouts, which really ticks me off. She went to day camp last week and came home Friday with flyers about a dance studio. Free passes for class. Advertisements. I know, it's not that big a deal, but I don't like it when groups mix causes. Are the girl scouts sponsoring the dance studio, or vice versa? Anyway, irritated. But if she wants to do a little tap class too, then we'll find something closer to home. And ignore the cheerleading request and see if she is satisfied with the tae kwon do and a little dance. Or, like I said, revisit Irish Dance in the spring.

Sophia, too, doesn't want Irish Dance to be her only sport, and I'm supporting that. She likes dance and is reasonably good, but she's been wanting to fence for a long time now. Mike and I fence--although we haven't done so in ages--at a sport fencing club in Overland. Pat teaches the beginner class and has welcomed Sophia to come join up any time. And she's a lefty, which is always a bonus in fencing. I think it'll go well.

Sophia is my individual sport girl but I think Maeve is more of a team sport person. I think I'm going to be finding myself at softball and soccer games as time goes on. I need to make sure I don't show the boredom on my face. Just kidding, actually. I'll probably wind up coaching the soccer...this is of course besides girl scouts, where Maeve will be a Daisy and Sophia a Junior.

And then there is Leo.

Parenting was easier when I assumed they would all be clones of the first. That lasted for the first 20 seconds of Maeve's life. I remember looking at her face and being shocked--shocked--that she didn't look just like Sophia. And now here we are.

Ten on Tuesday: 10 Things to bring on a camping trip

Well then. I think I can do this one. Not girl scout specific, but I am informed by those experiences, of course.

1. Dry tinder. In lieu of dry tinder, cheat. Waxed paper over chunks of old candles works wonders.

2. Air mattress. I am too old and too pampered to camp on the cold (or hot) hard ground.

3. A stash of St. Louis water (see previous post) because campground water is either from the bottom of a dusty well or there will be a boil order. Inevitable.

4. Bandana. Do not forget your bandana.

5. Alcohol is nice, but coffee is necessary.

6. More clothes than you thought. Don't take the number of days and multiply that number by t-shirts and pairs of socks. Double some items. Especially socks.

7. Weather radio. It's like Sam Gamgee and the rope. If you haven't got it, you'll be wanting it.

8. Liquid hand soap. State parks don't have soap in the bathrooms. Girl scout camps certainly do not. Bar soap gets skeezy.

9. A plan for Saturday afternoon when it's too hot or too wet to do anything but whine. The river. The cave. The craft box. The ice cream parlor 15 miles down the road. Something. A plan.

10. Camera. You'll want to show people what you survived.

Before You Think I'm Swooning Over St. Louis

Last week I wrote a 10 things I like about where I live post. Mostly about St. Louis, some about my neighborhood specifically. But I've been ruminating about what the opposite post would say. Not stupid things that bug me (like parking tickets) but things that could be seen as constructive criticism. Maybe. Or not. Not just bitching, how about that:

Ten things that the place where I live could seriously work to improve or admit that some things cannot change and work around to make the negatives less like big gaping holes in the earth.

1. In the city, we could get backbones. Seriously. The street department, for instance, hates my block because we have protested a couple of projects that they just assumed they would do because our alderman (a man I'd like to air-express some hungry weasels to in a flimsy cardboard box) said so. Our block has very few native south St. Louisans. And so we're not so great at rolling over and taking it. If more blocks didn't just shrug and brace themselves for the impact, maybe we'd have a nicer place all around.

2.People look east. It's that old church song we sing in Advent. But we don't do that in St. Louis. We never ever look east. Not just across the river (what, there are suburbs across the river?) but also just down the block. The Arch downtown celebrates western expansion for a reason. We just don't go east. I live east of Grand and folks get nervous about it. When our parish school was looking to merge with another to stay afloat, the next parish west of us wouldn't even consider a merger (they have since closed entirely...). We had to look east. And it saved us. I think as a region we look westward. It's not tangible like parking violations or crime, but it's a problem.

3. Our local elections are party-affiliated. This is nuts. There is no reason for an alderman to run as a democrat or republican. City politics should not have to match a party line. You shouldn't have to be nominated through your party. It bars the average person from being involved. While I'm at it, the board of alderman should be smaller. It should also meet in the evenings so that, again, average people can run for the job.

4. The city of St. Louis is an independent city. This means it is not in a county. We are not part of St. Louis County, which is a horseshoe shape surrounding the city. The city split from the county in the 1870s so that we wouldn't have to support those country bumpkins. Stupid, stupid move. It means that our statistics get skewed (most dangerous city in America, for instance, which we AREN'T), we cannot grow geographically, and nobody is getting along or cooperating on almost anything.

5. We have crappy mass transit. Really.

6. Our school system is a mess. Most big public school systems are a mess and ours is no exception. The schools suck. Plus the powers that be are so frightened of competition from charter schools that they are working to shut them down. While some are predatory national corporations, many are grass-roots efforts to build a better education system. Frankly, I don't see anything getting better until the whole system crumbles from lack of funding. And don't get me started on property taxes being the source of school funding. Or deseg. Or many other issues. I've been on the inside and now I'm a parent and the system sucks.

7. Many times along the way, developers have looked at suburban developments and assumed they would work in urban areas. When they don't work, they blame city dwellers for not supporting them. They set up mini-malls and strip mall centers with giant parking lots and then scratch their heads when they can't keep the storefronts filled because nobody is going there. The weird thing is that they never seem to learn. What works in the city is access to sidewalks, bike trails, mass transit. Being able to see what's there so I can park around the corner or behind the store. Pedestrian friendly, like South Grand near my house. There are two or three developments in particular that have recently been completed and they are awful. Not within walking distance of my house (thank goodness) but even if they were, I wouldn't be able to walk there because you can't get there from here on foot.

8.For some reason, MODOT (Missouri department of transportation) will not invest in good reflective paint. Texas manages to do this. Why can't we? It rains and you can't tell what lane you're in. It's scary.

9. There have been many misguided attempts to change the racial imbalances and injustices in this city throughout the last half century or so and I'm not sure any of them have done much good. And I'm not certain how to even begin making it better.

10. The drinking water is SO GOOD that I can't drink tap water when I'm out of town. Bleach. Kind of a backhanded compliment. It's really good water. Really really good. It makes every other public water system seem raunchy. Water elsewhere tastes like a pool. Or slightly metallic. Or leaves a weird after taste. Or has a color. Or is slimy. Whatever. We have the best water in the country and this has ruined me. But DON'T CHANGE IT. I'll just drink iced tea when I'm elsewhere. Doesn't solve the problem of brushing my teeth...

Quilting Update

This Christmas, everyone on my list is getting quilts. Not necessarily bed-sized quilts, but quilted things. Tree skirts, Christmas throws for the couch, and so forth.

I'm coming along. Many young girls on my list--all 5 of them, in fact, are going to receive sunbonnet sue quilts of several different patterns. Both of the little girls' versions, with the little girl proportions, are sewn down and ready for embellishment. About half of them are completely done (each quilt has 13, or maybe 14, I can't remember). The big girls' quilts are Colonial Ladies and I haven't started those, alas.

I've switched to some machine work in the meantime. Leo's baby quilt is COMPLETE and photos later once I cut all the threads. I showed it to him last night and he grasped it, pulled it onto his lap, and rubbed it on the side of his face. He wins Best Baby Award, hands down. It's been through the wash and is drying on the line. It'll take a few minutes in the dryer later, though, because the cats sat on it during the creation process and it's a tad fluffy in one spot still...

Bevin (who knows what she's getting) has provided me with probably enough double knit to get started on hers. I know what pattern I'm using and I'll start cutting this week. Also this week I have two small quilts to make for some lovely young ladies who have moved onto our block either through birth or adoption. They won't be a surprise but I'm hoping they will still be surprised by the results.

Then it's on to the three little boys on the list: I Spy Quilts. And Christmas quilts until my eyes bleed from the red and green and snowmen and trees and candles and flakes.

But now: pesto!

Garden

So it's going ok. I posted about it over on my newest blog, Between the Sycamores, about the cucumber plants and the not-yet tomatoes. I had switched the tomatoes from the spot where they tend to grow the best, because over the years they have ceased to grow the best. I rotated crops and figured this year might be a loss.

Last year and the year before were both losses. 2008 I had morning sickness the whole summer. And last summer, well, I get sick of saying this, but I was down for the count with hypothyroidism that is now well managed. So both years became just a mess. A morning glory silver maple minty weedy mess.

This year I am fastidious about the weeding. The mint has been taken care of. No morning glory vines have gotten big enough to flower. And in the spot where I usually grow tomatoes, I put cucumbers. Sort of a "give it to Mikey, he hates everything" moment. Cucumbers fail in my yard. But not this year. I have enough that we're going to eat this huge round and maybe even pickle the next metric ton.

The tomatoes were planted late and are not as amazing as the cukes, but they don't get quite as much sun. Lots of blossoms and tiny little baby tomatoes, so maybe. And the yellow squash? a friend has let me know I should hand-pollinate but I'm starting to realize that (a) no one in my house even likes yellow squash, (b) we get filled up on the stuff via the CSA, so much that I'm dehydrating it for winter vegetable soup, and (c) I just don't think I can be bothered to work that hard. Alas.

But it's like I remember now. I remember what gardening was like in 2003 and 2004. It's been a long time since I've had a really good garden, and now more than ever I want that. The garlic, of course, is a weed in my yard now, which I LOVE. I'm picking it tomorrow. What bulbs I can find, of course. The rest will come up next year. And the basil and parsley get almost 100% harvested tomorrow too--it's pesto time. A little late in the season, it will have a bit of an anise flavor, but you know what? In December over pasta with a little half and half and some canned tomatoes? It will taste just like summer.

I saw a couple (four, actually) cucumber beetles, the spotted variety, two nights back and squished them, but tonight I didn't see any. And the cucumber plants I put in the ground this year were a hybrid (against my tendency towards heirlooms) that were bred to resist cucumber wilt or something like that. One of the cuke beetle nasties. So maybe that paid off this year. Squash borers also failed to find them. It makes me happy to eat sliced cucumbers still warm from the sun. We've made tzatziki and, like I said, I'm debating some pickles. There's dill out there in the yard....

Come on tomatoes and it'll be perfect.

Dinner

Dinner tonight (noted if homegrown or from our CSA):

pasta from Mangia (CSA) with squash (CSA), broccoli (CSA), tomatoes (CSA), onion (CSA), and green pepper (CSA)
Homemade basic white sauce with roasted tomatoes and peppers blended in
trout (CSA)
Collard greens (CSA) with onion (CSA) and bacon (not this time)
sliced cucumber (my garden)

Leftovers were the pasta, sauce, and the collards, which were combined to make a brand spanking new dish for tomorrow evening.

Now I remember why I like summer. You know?

And yes, today was much, much, much better.

Shearwater

There's a new charterhigh school opening up on the north side, for drop-outs, pregnant teenagers, kids who have aged out of foster care, runaways, homeless kids. It's called Shearwater Academy or High School or something like that. It's for 17-21 year olds. Kids who need one last chance.

Their plan is a half day of school and a half day of a paid internship of some sort. I don't know if all will be the same or what. Saint Louis University is the sponsor school (in Missouri, you need a sponsoring university to be a charter school), just like us. I think SLU is picking them well. I hope this one works. It's desperately needed here.

But I found myself with the question: why is it called shearwater? We don't live on the ocean. Sounds like an oceanic term. Well, they explain it on their website, and then I looked around myself a bit as well.

A shearwater is a bird. It's a sea bird, nothing that amazing in appearance. Sooty brown (there is a species, in fact, called the Sooty Shearwater), a crooked beak, black eye. You've probably never heard of it. It wouldn't make you turn your head. If I ever saw one in person I'd probably think, "gull" and go back to what I was doing, and I like birding. Growing up near the Gulf, gulls are a nuisance bird. The pigeons of the sea. Shearwaters may or may not fit in that category--they don't show up on Galveston or on the Mississippi.

The shearwater, though, is more than just a brown sea bird. It migrates more every year than any other bird--thousands of miles from northern Europe to South America, for instance. Often going days without eating to reach its destination, it can dive hundreds of feet into the seawater to catch fish. It is long-lived, too, with the oldest banded bird at over 55 years old in the wild. Hundreds of thousands of miles that single bird has logged. It flies in a cruciform shape, tilting its long wings to catch the breeze.

I hope the high school succeeds. I love their plan and I hope they don't get lost along the way. It could be such a good thing for so many people.

But that bird. It has found a niche in my brain. I keep thinking about it, about the tenacity and resilience it represents, combined with almost complete anonymity and probably nuisance status, fading in with other bland sea birds flying overhead amidst the fishing boats.

A new day dawns

1. It is already hot, but

2. The computer is clean

3. Sophia is back in a 3-hand. It's not going to be spectacular, with two newer young girls, but it'll be all right.

4. We're going to be early for camp today and I'm going to coffee after drop off.

5. And I was pleased with my weekly step on the scale. Whee.

So perhaps yesterday is behind us. At least for a while.

Ten on Today: Let me count the ways today sucked

It was just one of those days.

1. I woke up to a computer virus. We've been virus free for 14+ years but now the girls sometimes are on the computer and somebody clicked something and there it is. Weird traffic noises in the background of porn sites that launched themselves, fake "your computer is at risk click here to install spyware blah blah blah" and I shut the computer off with the switch.

2. I dropped Maeve off at camp down in south county and made my way back to the city. The computer, still off, taunted me. I texted to Mike about it and he said he'd handle it when he got home. Then he asked me what was up with Chuy's? He'd been to our online bank statement and there was a pending authorization for $1059.29 on our account from the restaurant Sophia chose for her birthday last night. Sigh. I made the phone call. It was a mistake they'd already caught, but the bank will hang onto the amount until the actual receipts arrive there, probably tomorrow. Not a big thing but on top of the virus, I was a little frazzled.

3. It was eleventy million degrees outside.

4. I paid my parking ticket and wanted to, but refrained from, writing expletives in the memo line.

5. Leo started cutting his canine teeth and was a big weepy mess by 11.

6. Picked up Maeve at camp and chatted with her about her day and she told this story: "Last night I had a bad dream about a restaurant and you left me there all alone and I got up and I was crying and I came downstairs to find you but you were already asleep. I stood by your bed for a minute and went back upstairs and CUDDLED WITH A PICTURE OF MISS BRIDGET." Her preschool teacher, who is da bomb but it still made me want to cry into my steering wheel. I can only thank heaven that she didn't wake me up and I didn't yell at her to top it all off. Made me sad.

7.We got to the paint your own pottery place for Sophia's birthday, with everything we needed and Miss Bridget along for the ride which was awesome because another adult that kids like is always a good thing, and they didn't have any record of us having scheduled time there for the party. I told the woman at the desk, who was not the person I'd dealt with before when I paid my deposit, that I had in fact booked it on June 30. There was no record of my ever having existed. I told her I could pull it up on my bank website since I used my check card, but she told me she believed me and we went on with the party. But let me tell you, at the moment when I walked in and heard that, the string of expletives that ran through my head were unprintable.

8. All was well, we got home, etc. Party was good. Girls stayed and played at the house. Mike worked on the virus. I chatted with neighbors a minute. All better. Read girls stories while Mike went to a church meeting. Leo cried a lot but went down for bed eventually. Mike got home in the middle of this and continued work on the virus. He's doing it right now (I'm on his laptop). And then I got an email from the dance teacher. It was the list of teams for the upcoming feis, the one our school runs. And Sophia wasn't on the list. There were 12 girls in her category of 3-hand...and I guess she's the 13th girl. I guess I didn't get her to the right class or whatever. WHATEVER. I wrote her back and asked her why. She just couldn't think of two more dancers in the under ten group. So Sophia isn't in a 3 hand, and sour grapes in me tells me that's probably fine since there's now already 4 teams just from our school alone. Nothing worse than entering a team dance and then not placing (which would be the first time since she started dancing this little 3 hand). Ah well. And it saves me 6 bucks or whatever. But still. She's been on 3-hand teams for a year now and I guess, like I said, she was the 13th girl.

9. So I sit here watching my husband work on the computer in safe mode and scrub it down and I say "I'm so glad you know what you're doing." He then admits that he sort of knows what he's doing. "It would be like an airline pilot changing the tires on his car because, you know, planes have tires." I sigh. "Not even like an airline mechanic changing the tires on his car?" He shakes his head. Nothing on our computer is irreplaceable except photos. And I think it'll be ok. But now I'm no longer 100% certain. Dang it.

10. How to round this out? I took my afternoon thyroid medication late so I haven't had dinner--I have to fast for an hour after taking it and time was up as we walked in the door after the party. So now I'm in nosh mode, which is never good, wondering what lovely items await me in the kitchen. The worst part is that NOTHING awaits me in the kitchen. We have oatmeal. Produce, and not like apples and pears, but beets and collard greens. We have eggs and milk and peanut butter. I guess I could have peanut butter and jelly....for the second time today. Or I could go to bed now and just shut up.

Today Needs A New Curse Word

Have you seen the periodic table of cursing? Don't go if you're easily offended. Otherwise, google away. I think something with a large atomic number to describe today. Something very very offensive. Something that would make my mother-in-law wince if she read it here. Something other moms on the block would hear me say and reconsider allowing their children to play with mine.

That's what today has been.

I don't even want to talk about it, because all but one of the SNAFUs have resolved themselves. But when I was in the midst of them?

You didn't want to be a telepath near me.

Swimming update

I'm up to 9/16 of a mile. It would have just been a half but then Sophia wanted to join me and I wasn't going to say no. I got out of the pool by way of the steps, not the ladder, and sort of faked it to the locker room. All right, everything's all right. And then I was a zombie most of the rest of the day. Waterlogged. Tired. Sore. But good.

I won't make it back to the pool (to swim--I'll take the kids tomorrow but I can't swim then) until next week. Sophia birthday and all that jazz. So I'm thinking it'll be two weeks or so before I make it to 3/4 mile. But the whole thing? A mile? I'm going to make that, easy, by Labor Day.

Ten On Tuesday: 10 Things I like about where I live

Yay me. What a great topic. I could go a couple of different directions: my house (not likely but perhaps), my neighborhood, my part of the city, my city, my region...Ann did the whole place, but I think I'm going to have to do my part of the city. Where I am. Where I often am.

1. It is green. Literally. There are trees everywhere--lining the streets, in the parks, in people's back yards. I've had it explained that trees are cheap and keep your electric bills down and St. Louisans are cheap...but I'm related to too many scrubby dutch to believe that for a second. None of my relatives had trees. They were too hard to care for, just bare zoysia grass. But trees soften a city, make it more like a home, like a place people want to live. The south side is very green on purpose, and the north side is getting there--nature is reclaiming her own.

2. It is apathetic in a good way. My part of town is like the home of the outcast. Immigrants, neo-pagans, gays, and hippies are all over my neighborhood and have celebrations in the park. My parish church is filled with diversity and I don't mean just racial diversity: young men with green hair sit two pews away from women from Eritrea sit next to the lesbian couple with three foster kids sit next to longterm parish families. For the most part, people just don't care. Not that we are uncaring--we just don't get our panties in a wad about things. This of course can be taken too far, and neighborhoods decline when corners get taken over by prostitution rings, but then on my block at least we managed to care about something for a moment.

3. It is Catholic. Little c and big C. Having lived in central Georgia and central Missouri and Texas, it is nice to come home to this parochial ghetto of ethnic churches and people who ask me what parish I live in before they ask me what religion I might be. We are all not Catholic, obviously, but there isn't an assumption that Catholics have tails...or that nuns and priests keep our orphanages filled the old fashioned way...or that we worship statues...or any of the other nonsense I've heard said TO ME in other places where I've lived. Here, there is a kind of Catholic worldview that makes it easy for me to be here.

4. We as a city play out of our league. There are only 300,000 people in the city of St. Louis, and yes, the region makes up for that somewhat, but we are not Chicago or San Francisco or Dallas or wherever. But we have a world class zoo, art museum, symphony, botanical garden, park system, professional sports teams, the City Museum, and so forth. Chicago folk try to pick on us but COME ON. WE'RE THE SIZE OF TOLEDO. I've been to Toledo, and sir, we are no Toledo. (Or perhaps the other way round...).

5. We have seasons, but none of them make you want to die. Fall and spring are lovely, if a tad short sometimes. Winter gets cold, some snow, some ice, but being where the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers meet, the humidity and valley mean we don't get midwestern blizzards. The summers can be blistering, but there's always a thunderstorm on its way to cool it off. Weeks of above 90 are relieved by 4 days of 80 degrees. And at least for now, it's all over by September 4 or so anyway.

6. You can escape the city in a short drive. We are surrounded by really good state parks on the Missouri side. Hiking, rivers, camping, and so forth. The Illinois side becomes flat boring farmland almost instantly over the JB Bridge, although if you are adventurous and have a few hours to spare in the car, you can get to iron and sandstone cliffs that make your heart stop beating. Caves over on this side, magical fairyland settings on both sides. Did I mention the rivers?

7. It is a great place to raise kids. Did I mention I never met a black person until I was in 7th grade? That the concept of families beyond "mother father 2.5 kids" was unknown to me until about that point as well? The idea that one could walk from the front door door, down the sidewalk, and get someplace useful, like a grocery story or an ice cream parlor or a pharmacy? Completely foreign to me until I moved to the city. This is a city-general comment instead of a St. Louis specific one. My kids are growing up knowing of the world. On the other hand, they still listen to kids songs in the car and nobody has a Lady Gaga CD. Nobody wears designer clothes and looks down on their t-shirts and bike shorts. They have it so good. I can shelter them the right ways and expose them to life.

8. The food. St. Louis is the love handle of America. Ethnic restaurants in walking distance, did I mention the ice cream?

9. The architecture. I like that our downtown isn't just a forest of glass buildings. And the neighborhoods are distinct and interesting. Lafayette Square is different from Soulard is different from Carondelet (go to Bad Mansard on the right if you want to know more about, well, mansard roofs, and Soulard and Lafayette Square good ones). I live in a streetcar suburb with sturdy (thank you Ann) foursquare houses. Little gingerbread 1940s era cottages west of me. Mansions to the north. I love house tours and covet little details (curved windows for instance). And I have little details in my own house that are covet-worthy (my Jeffersonian door, for instance).

10. My sister lives here. My other sister probably will soon. Both of Mike's brothers live here. I have urban ancestors here dating back 140 years. My rural ancestors are from within 100 miles of this place. Yes, originally they are from Northern Germany and Western Ireland and places in England and France, but we have been solidly Missouri-Illinois for a long long time. This place is in my blood like the brick streets coursing under the asphalt pavement. I can't help but like it.

Wedding Photos

Pete and Kaylen's Rehearsal

Some images from Friday and Saturday. And a little background for folks who don't share my last name (either of them). Mike is the oldest of four, as am I. He has a sister named Christy who is two years younger than he is. She has two daughters, Maci, a year older than Sophia; and Delaney, six months older than Maeve. And then....eleven years younger than Christy are Pete and Steve. They both went to SLU and settled here in St. Louis with urban girls. Sound familiar? Steve is married to Mary and they live a few blocks north and west of us. Pete got married to Kaylen this weekend and they live a few blocks south and west of us. We flank Tower Grove Park, in fact. All we need is for one of my sisters or Mike's sister to move into the SW Garden neighborhood and we've got it covered.It is delightful to have them so close by. I've known Pete and Steve since they were, what, seven? And I've watched them go from a set, a matched set, the pair I couldn't tell apart (this isn't entirely true: they are not identical and I could tell them apart. I just could never remember which name went with which face). Now I always know--by the time they were in high school they had more separate personalities (frankly, most seven year old boys are alike, twins or no). In my 365 blog I wrote the following about them (the year I turned 32, I wrote 32 words a day about a person I knew, for a whole year). Note there are 64 words:

Still delineating between you. Mike’s twin brothers, I’ve known you since you were 7. Now you’re college students with girlfriends and I see so much of him in you and me in your girls that it makes me smile. I can envision holidays with your future families -- it doesn’t make me feel old. Maybe you and Mike are triplets, just separated by 13 years.

And Kaylen and Mary share this post:

You date PeteandSteve, respectively. So young-freshman and junior at SLU. I want you to make Big Plans and join me as female inlaws. It would make my life easier. Funny, cute, smart—just like your boyfriends and their brother, you are updated versions of myself. In the end, any girl either of them marry will be just fine. But it could be you!

And it turned out that way.

Steve, in his best man speech, mentioned that the wedding was kind of a formality for a forgone conclusion, which is quite reminiscent of my own wedding. Duh they were going to get married.

So Friday evening was the rehearsal, at St. Margaret of Scotland, which is a nice church to get married in--it fills up well, the pews are broad and the aisle is shallow. Even from the back it doesn't seem like you're far away. There had been typical and atypical moments leading up to this wedding, but I wasn't intimately involved and only read Kaylen's twitter feed, essentially, so I don't know if it's my place to comment. Just to say: when my kids get married, I might tell them that this or that is too expensive or that we need to find room in a budget, but I'm not going to veto matters of style, theme, music, food, and so forth just because it might not match my desires. I already had my wedding.

But we were all hopeful and a bit worried about how things would go. The rehearsal went just fine (note: everything went just fine). During Mike's reading, Leo crawled up into the sanctuary (hey, it's the rehearsal...) which broke the ice well. Kaylen asked me later if I could arrange for that during the ceremony. The most that happened was Leo running up and down a side aisle while I tiptoed in heels to grab him and take him to the back.

After the rehearsal, we went over to the Shangri-La Diner, which is a cute little vegetarian cafe on Cherokee. Very hippie. They closed for the evening to host us and we all scooted into booths to have pasta primavera and Italian salad and bread and cupcakes. Frankly, I could have sat and eaten just the bread and cupcakes. Nothing like crunchy crusty buttery bread, and the cupcakes were, you know, as big as your head and their rendition of hostess cupcakes. Chocolate with filling, icing on top. The vanilla ice cream on the side was really superfluous.

Things have changed recently in this family. Like I mentioned above, Steve and Mary got married about a year and a half ago (remember, the Friday in Lent?); Fr. Tom died suddenly last fall--Pete and Kaylen already had Bill lined up as their presider, but it was noticeable that he wasn't here. Mike and I didn't have him as our main presider either (mostly because Mike had failed to mention his uncle was a priest)--Jerry Keaty was ours. But Tom was there, and since we had a full mass, we had both of them at the altar. So that's one thing (well, two things, although Mary and Steve have been together long enough that she's been around, it's not like she was a mail order bride from Hungary or something...wouldn't that be awkward? I can't even imagine suddenly having a sister-in-law appear like that).

The other thing that has changed is that Mike's sister got divorced. She's on the fast track for annulment, in fact. Her ex-husband was a part of her life the entire time I've known Mike. I met her and him on the same night, in fact, at my mother-in-law's 40th birthday party. They got married the summer after we did. And while Mr. Ex had his moments, well, to be diplomatic, I couldn't stand him. I didn't live in town and didn't see him very often, so I saw it with an outsider's view. You can't know much that way. But I knew enough.

And now that he's gone, I like Christy just fine. I had nothing to say to her, even after we both had daughters, there was just nothing but strained pleasantries. It was miserable for me at Thanksgiving and Christmas because I simply couldn't stand to be in the same room with him, and she was so guarded and withdrawn that I had given up engaging her. And I think that becomes a negative cycle--I don't try, and then she wonders what the heck is wrong with me, and then she avoids me, and then I see her as even more stand-offish, and down it goes.

It's been a year and a half or so since I noticed the change--even before the divorce was final--and I'm constantly stunned by the difference. I even like my nieces better. And this becomes a positive cycle. My opinions, even unspoken, carry a lot of weight in my house and quite a bit everywhere else, I've realized. I've never been one to fake things very well or for very long. And it's better now.

So we spent the evening with Christy and her girls, mostly, at the table and in the pews at church. The girls played together and talked and goofed off and seemed to have a good time. Nothing like the good time they would have Saturday night, but it was nice to be there with these people.

Leo, of course, stole every show he was in, including on the doorstep to Shangri-La after dinner. He stood out there and got into a screaming contest with himself. I don't even remember how it started. I just realized he was standing there screaming so loudly and at just the right tone to hurt your ears. He wasn't upset. In fact, he was deliriously happy. And screaming. You can tell in these photos he's screaming. It was awesome.

Here are the four cousins, at the diner, Maeve goofy as always.

After it was all over, we went home. Girls went to bed. Mike and I stayed up too late watching Leverage and ironing. Saturday came early and went fast.

Happy Wedding

We just got back from Mike's brother's wedding: Pete and Kaylen are now married. It was a really good time. More later. Right now the girls have officially crashed from all the dancing and they are sobbing, they are so tired. They can't even drag themselves to bed. Poor dears. So more later. Tomorrow. Because if I weren't the mom, I'd be sobbing from my feet hurting so bad.

Crown Candy Kitchen

Maeve went to a birthday party last night at Incredible Pizza, which is one of those "eat pizza and play arcade games until you pass out from exhaustion" kind of places. I didn't have to go, thanks to the mom of the birthday girl who let us carpool (meaning, she drove there and back, whee!).

So I made a summer pasta for dinner that I know Maeve would have hated (since Sophia did, too): radiatore pasta with kale and spinach, the lightest white sauce ever, garlic, yellow squash, onion, tomato, mushrooms. Oh it was good. And a slice of bacon, forgot that. Very good.

And after dinner, we got a notion that we should do something--I'd already taken my bike ride for the day, and it was threatening a thunderstorm. So we went to Crown Candy Kitchen. It's an old fashioned soda fountain, the oldest in constant operation west of the Mississippi. A lot of things in St. Louis, being just steps from the Mississippi, are the "oldest west of the Mississippi." But this also means oldest in St. Louis, of course, up in Old North St. Louis, a neighborhood on the edge between falling into a pit and revitalizing itself to someplace that could be a good place. You know? It was scary when we used to go up to Crown Candy, and it isn't as scary now, but it has a long way to go.

But Crown Candy has been there the whole time, serving up homemade ice cream and candy and lunch--the BLTs that passed us on the waitress' tray were stunning in their size and scope. We were there for dessert--three newport sundaes, pronounced "sun-duh" in the St. Louis style. A Newport is ice cream, one topping, whipped cream, and these salty-sweet pecans mmmm. Here's a photo of a Newport (other sundaes, including banana splits, can be "newported" with the pecans and whipped cream) from three summers ago when my brother and his family were visiting.

Crown Candy has had a bargain, "since 1913" that if you can drink 5 milkshakes or malts in a half hour, you get them free. You also get your name on a plaque, which has about 30 names on it so far, over the course of almost 100 years. It isn't easy--each shake is really one and 2/3, you know, with the metal can half full of more shake. It's a milkshake every 6 minutes and I don't think I could drink that amount of water in 30 minutes, much less melty ice cream yumminess.

But a kid a few booths away gave it a go while we were there. The booths at CCK seat either 2 or 4, and his extended family had come together and filled two of the 4-man booths and two 2-man booths. He was about 11 or 12, sitting across from a cousin or brother. They brought out the 5 empty glasses and put them in front of him. And then the first shake, which was probably some kind of mint. Next time I looked up, the green one was done and a vanilla one was almost done. The pink one, cherry or strawberry, was plunked down in front of him. And he didn't look very good.

Then his mother asked the waitress for the bathroom, and took him away from the table. When they came back, she told his brother to finish the pink shake if he wanted--he and another kid jumped on that.

"You're done, right?" she said to the volunteer. He gave her a queasy look that made me worry about nearby patrons' cleanliness and safety. But he kept it down and sat there in the booth, zombified.

He made it halfway, though. Maybe in a few years and that teenage metabolism kicks in.

On the way out, Swedish fish and the best malted milk balls ever made it into our bag somehow. And a handmade peanut butter cup that I still haven't indulged in. Maybe after the rehearsal tonight. It's big enough to split into four. Mmmmm.

Forgetting. Missing. Annoying.

Last night I was supposed to go out with friends from the block. Sigh. Mike had a bachelor party to go to and had the time wrong and in the end, I watched reruns on Netflix, rearranged the library shelves, and folded laundry. Not my preference but it got something done.

Turns out, yesterday I was supposed to tour the "other" building my school is looking to buy, renovate, and move into. And I hear through the grapevine that this one is now the one they're leaning towards. Which disappoints me in a lot of ways, but maybe wouldn't if I'd seen the danged thing. I had it on my calendar for tomorrow. I didn't even know I missed it until one of the teachers emailed me about it. So aggravated.

I hate that. I hate scheduling snafus. I need to get my act together on this--I've been holding things in my head, writing things down wrong, forgetting, overscheduling, the works. So annoyed with myself.

I have to go move my car now. The street's being paved. Maeve has a birthday party tonight and Sophia has to be here for piano. I can't forget that one again (that's a recurring oops this summer). And then of course this weekend's wedding events. And next week has a list started. Maybe I should put a big fat calendar on my fridge or something....

The weekend: while we were gone...

The weekend in pictures: Carol's pool

And then, lastly, we spent the 5th of July at Carol's pool, at least part of the afternoon there. Here are a few moments:

The weekend in pictures: Sunday Evening and Monday

We went over to Sikeston to watch the fireworks. Played with the sparklers. Leo had candy in the van while the sparklers were out, and then joined us on the parking lot to watch. I didn't have my tripod so my photos were not the best I've ever done, but I liked the out of focus one below. And also below, a photo of my father-in-law, who found people he knew and was entertaining them with tales, probably from his recent fishing trip in Canada.

Ten on Tuesday: 10 Ways to Enjoy Summer

Ok, while Blogger figures out how to get comments to publish again....these are ten ways I have been enjoying summer thus far, this summer which could be entitled "This is So Much Better Than Last Year":

1. Going to the pool. Any pool.

2. Biking. Now that we are set up for travel, finally, we've been biking. My favorite trail is Grant's Trail, which is 16 miles round trip.

3. Iced coffee: Damn you Starbucks! Drive-through coffee doesn't tempt me October-May. I make better at home. But I don't manage cold coffee at home near so well. And it's so right. Not the frothy thousands of calories frozen things--just an iced latte. Mmm.

4. Festivals in Tower Grove--even when we don't go over, it always makes me like being here and having folks visit our neighborhood.

5. Grilling & eating outside. My yard is finally worthy of outdoor dining again. Grilling doesn't heat up my house.

6. Not opening my sock drawer. It's sandals all the time now.

7. Trips. We're not taking a vacation this year--18 month olds are impossible to travel with for any length of time--but little camping trips and side trips to places we say we're going to go to but then put off until summer. Cahokia, Elephant Rock, Onondaga Cave, Botanical Gardens thus far. The end of the summer will probably bring me back to Bethel, MO for the sheep and wool festival. Suson Park. Zoo. Museums. The summer starts at Rock Eddy Bluff most years. Cairo, Cape, Columbia and so forth.

8. Berry cobbler. One of the recipes on my kitchen wall. Mmm.

9. The succession of growing things. Flowers: the lilacs fall away to the iris to the daylilies to the stargazers. Vegetables: greens and strawberries to swiss chard to herbs to tomatoes to cucumbers to squash.

10. Like Ann, planning for fall. I know the one thing I want to do to my yard (raise one bed). I know the two things I want to do to my house (screen in the porch off my bedroom and paint the dining room). It's too hot to do the first two right now, and the painting needs kids to go to school!

11. Oh, can I add 11? Hanging out. More stoop sitting in the summer than other times. Schedules are different. And coffee at Ann's, of course.

The Weekend in pictures: Sunday Birthday Party

Sunday afternoon, everybody came over: Christy and her girls (my girls' cousins); Aunt Sheila and her son Marc (that's his Harley there) and his wife and their baby boy; John, the official birthday boy--Sophia was celebrating early--and his wife Carol and their daughter Jennifer; Peggy, Lisa, Amy, a family friend named Shelly, and...I guess that was everyone plus my family and my mother-in-law, whose house it was at to begin with.

Mike grilled and the dogs tried to get him.
Marc parked his bike on the lawn.
Aunt Sheila went on and on. I wish I could get a film of her talking about--well, about anything. She has perfect comedic timing and made tea come out Mike's nose at one point regrading ways to "accidentally" get rid of Christy's dog (Christy doesn't like the dog...he's a big complication...and a white poodle...). Kids played upstairs in the new attic addition--which has inspired me to do more with my own attic than just one big room.
There was cake--turtle cake for Sophia and German chocolate for John.



There were presents.
Leo crashed. Mike crashed.
And later there were sparklers in the front. Not as cool as in the dark but the cousins had to head home and we didn't want to skip it.
There was only one incident, involving Mike's grandmother acting like, well, not like an adult. Mike's niece is very shy and timid, and while this is something that probably should be dealt with (it probably has some roots in her parents' divorce and her awful father), it probably shouldn't be dealt with the way Grandma Ann did. She caught on that this 6 year old was not wanting to go behind her to get something she was looking for, and was whispering this fact to my mother-in-law. Ann got up and said, "I'll just go." She told my sister-in-law that she needed to get that girl "Better around people" and then she walked out. Cause that makes it better. Set the child up for some more failure, how bout.

But even that, really, made us all roll our eyes and laugh. And rearrange the seating arrangement for this weekend's wedding reception...