September Starting comments: 77

The start of the month of new starts! Okay, then!

Silver Stars comments: 99

It is unexpectedly (at least to me) pouring rain as I write this morning, and so dark in the house I can hardly see. Oh, sweet mercies!!! I'm sitting in the studio, looking out into the garden, which, in spite of being sopping wet, still seems parched and yellow with defeat, my potted plants a sallow tangle on the steps. More than any particular date on the calendar, summer seems to turn from waxing to waning when the blossoms are spent and the soil runs just a bit too dry in my container plants, when I've missed one-too-many too-hot days of watering, when things go from lush to lank and I stand dumbly by, too air-conditioned and mommy-fried to make a move to rescue. It's a shame, really, this particular fulcrum up and over which I never quite seem to get, this see-saw that only sits, end planted in the dusty grass, me heavy upon it, praying for rain. Mid-July and me, both, stuck in the inertia of white-hot air. This morning — Hallelujah! — I get my wish, and wake to the sound of silver showers plinking and tapping, a cool breeze teasing my white curtains, Mimi in the bed between us, signing rain and wind. Ah, all my joys, all here, all here.

Our weekend was short and sweet (and hot). We got lots and lots of berries, explored a historic farm, stopped at the river, went to the pool, walked downtown. I made more fish, following Molly's lead in making stone-fruit salsa (I used peaches and a mango) and whipped cream for all of the sweetest-ever raspberries (I didn't know they could ever be that sweet actually — the sweetest I've ever had). We've eaten bags of Rainier cherries, boxes of blackberries and blue. This is the wonder of July, for me. The berries are insane. It takes only a minute to whip the cream and there you go, best treat ever.

Our girl glows like a peach, looking more and more like her gorgeous birthmama every day, her expressions and her sly humor and her independence blossoming like a summer flower. Her confidence, her seriousness, her curiosity, her kisses, and, more than anything, her loving sweetness, her gentle touch, patting her dolly's back, kissing her dolly, every toy, in fact, the cars and the books and the cups, patting my back, running the tippy-tips of her fingers lightly on my cheek, looking at me with her sparkling navy-blue eyes and her half-smile. Her burgeoning independence fascinates and delights me. She's quietly mischievous and blatantly (and hilariously) honest, alerting me to the fact that she's standing, belly-out, on the sofa, touching the hanging pendant lamp (no-no),  holding the clicker (no-no), eyes always sparkling, daring me to see her though I'm sitting right there, and see her just fine. "Mommy?" Eyes wide. Touch touch, pendant lamp swings. Aw, no-no, baby I say with my "you know this" voice. "No-no," she mimics, signing no twice and raising eyebrows as if it were I who touched the lamp, dumped the mail, turned on the TV. When I got my new glasses she'd come toward me on the bed with such a look of love in her sparkly eyes, getting closer and closer, I'd be smiling hugely back, flattered, thrilled, then whoosh — she'd grab the glasses right off my face in a flash, with a smile. She brings me all the things she's not supposed to have: a rock in the house, a quarter, my wallet, a pencil. "Mommy?" Holding them out to me. Andy and I think she's very tongue-in-cheek in her photos, a little bit dramatic, a little ironic. I scoop her off the sofa and tip her backwards, bury my face in her belly as she laughs. Later, as she starts to nap, I strum the tender inside of her elbow and she answers with a milky chortle, and gently strokes the back of my hand with her fingertips. Our call and response. Every day she is unfolding. I watch and marvel, hardly able to speak, squeezing my lips to the back of her soft arm. This incredible person. This privilege. My stars, my stars. My cup runneth over. My heart overflows.

Hot and Bright comments: 91

It's been kind of a challenging week, and I don't even know why. I feel like I have a million things to say but no time to say them, here or in real life. I'm whirling and scattered, and trying to keep track. To simplify, I apparently started to do the same things over again — same clothes, same dinner, same places. I like that. Eliminate the variables when possible. The heat last week was ravaging. I felt like I was in survival mode. Yesterday it broke with beautiful rain, beautiful thunder, beautiful lightning, more beautiful rain, beautiful gray clouds, beautiful purple clouds, and me, sitting on the back porch sobbing with relief. But today the sun is back, bright and flashing, and I, though rejuvenated, am wary: 99 degrees forecasted for tomorrow. We've been meeting friends in the park in the morning, or heading back down to farmer's market on Saturday mornings to sit in the shade of the big trees, or spending a lot of time at the pool and the fountain (water water water. I love you water).

The knitting project above is my little Artichaut, and she has given me fits, as well. I'm almost finished with her and I'll be glad. I knit her while watching this other cool British show I found on YouTube (I think it was recommended because I liked Restoration Home) called Turn Back Time: The Family. It's one of those shows where they re-create historical environments and the put people in them to "live" within history; this one follows three families through the Edwardian era, the Interwar years, the Second World War, the 1960s, and the 1970s (I haven't seen the last one yet). It was really good. In one of the episodes they mentioned the book Swallows and Amazons, which I realized with a jolt I've still never read (so I promptly got it). And that reminded me of the Summer Reading Booklist for kids that you and I put together four summers ago now. This list was made entirely out of Posie Gets Cozy reader suggestions. Do you remember it?

(Just click on the illustration to download the list.)

I'd completely forgotten about this list. I found it and printed it out the other day and was so delighted that Amelia is the perfect age for me to start keeping it for her. We already read several of the little-kid books on the list together every single night. But I'm going to start collecting and reading all of the older-kid classics on the list, and creating a special shelf to hold all of these for her for when she gets older. I am so excited. I also pulled out my dear friend Jane's book, Cherry Cake and Ginger Beer: A Golden Treasury of Classic Treats, and thought I would try to read the list of titles she includes, as well (and of course we'll have to make some treats, too!). I've kind of needed a project like this, honestly. Something to focus me! And maybe I'll be done by the time she starts reading.

I also finished Kristin Lavransdatter: The Wreath. This book blew me away. I don't even really know how to tell you about it. The last fifty pages or so of this book are some of the best I've ever read in my life. It reminded me of James Joyce's The Dead (though it's completely different, but if anyone's read both of these, do you know what I mean?). My heart was in my throat as I finished this book. It was very intense. I picked up the second book of the trilogy but haven't started it yet. You'd think I had a lot of time to read or something?!? I don't.

Do you like fish tacos? I used the baked fish parcel method from Apples for Jam: Cover some cod filets in panko and a bit of Mexican seasoning (you can slice a few limes and place on top, too), drizzle with a bit of olive oil, then wrap in parchment and bake at 400 degrees (either with indirect heat on the grill or in the oven) for 20 minutes. I added some of my dad's coleslaw, a little bit of sour cream with chipotle sauce stirred in, and some big chunks of avocado, and these were just perfect for a hot summer night. Andy made a really nice Mexican bean salad (but he used fresh corn, and I would definitely recommend that!).

Thank you very, very much for all of your kind comments on my last post. You are so good to me. Thank you. Xoxo

Little Flower comments: 76

I had a day out last week with my dear friend Aimee. We had lunch and then we shopped and then we sat by the fountain downtown and had milkshakes. I came home with a dolly umbrella stroller for Mimi, since she'd been walking off with everyone else's when she sees them at the park. She prefers carrying it around, bringing it onto the sofa, pushing it around without a dolly in it, pushing it around with a rock in it, dragging it both up and down the deck stairs y herself, pushing it on the gravel. It's pretty dang cute to watch her pushing it. Everything she does is just so charming and fascinating to me. Watching her become a little girl, especially this past month, is just . . . I don't even know. I actually just don't even have words. Maybe a couple of little sobs, because it's just so startlingly beautiful to watch someone growing up. Every day has so many beautiful little things in it I hardly know where to start to say.

I made a Suzanne dress out of Liberty Emma and Georgina A (with another kind of Liberty for the insert, but I don't remember the name of that one). The Suzanne that I made a few years ago I couldn't get on her — as designed, the back has no opening, and the bodice is just too tight to get little arms up and under and through armholes. I wound up cutting the back and the insert into two separate pieces and adding an inch extra to each, then creating a 6 or 7 inch opening in the back (just hemmed each side with a 1/4" double-turned hem, and added a couple of snaps on the insert part, to close). It's a pretty invisible fix, really, but makes all the difference. I don't know if the larger sizes have this problem (I made a size 2) but man, it's just such a cute dress. I love the cut and the blossomy effect of the skirt. And so fast and easy and sweet and light. More of them to come.

I got some simply amazing, luscious, soft, light, creamy, wonderful, incredibly gorgeous bulky handspun undyed Alpaca yarn from my beautiful friend Rebekka the other day. I'm thinking there can be no other future for this yarn than cowl. Maybe even mama cowl. . . . Maybe there's even enough for both of us. . . . Oh my word. If it weren't NINETY-SEVEN DEGREES HERE TODAY I would consider knitting. You know how much I love my vent. I would have to leave it to wind up the yarn so I might have to wait. . . .

Before the earth started to scorch in places, I was out on one particularly lovely gray afternoon (those are the lovely ones, as far as I'm concerned) becoming infatuated with my little spray of front-yard flowers. The purples, pinks, and poppies. (The first photo [that's Besaw's restaurant garden], the community garden photo, and the next two after that [the lavender poppies] are not my flowers, but all the ones after it are from our yard.) If I can figure out a way to capture the effervescence of this little garden in embroidery, oh but I would like to try. It's such a sweet little spot! Those seeds worked. (Well, they worked in the sunny places. In the shady places, not so much.) But the sunny spots — they're spotted with blossoms, and they are bringing me great joy.

***Here's how we make our shrimp bowls.

One a Day comments: 108

Cooking, cooking. Once I started I just . . . kept going. For Midsummer Day we made the same breakfast we'd made for Father's Day (because that was good), and then I made a strawberry shortcake for dessert after dinner. I didn't split it in half the way the directions say to because I didn't have enough strawberries, so I just buttered the thing and piled the berries on. But this shortcake recipe is good, and I've had it so long I don't even know where I got it originally.

Shortcake

2 c. flour
2 T. sugar
1 T. baking powder
1/2 t. salt
1/2 c. cold butter, cubed
1 beaten egg
2/3 c. half-and-half

Preheat oven to 450 degrees F. In mixing bowl, stir together flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Cut the butter into the dry ingredients until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Combine the egg and half-and-half, and add all at once to the dry ingredients, stirring with fork just to moisten. Spread dough in a buttered 8" round cake pan, building up the edges a bit. Bake for 15-18 minutes. Remove from pan and cool slightly. Slice cake horizontally and spread butter on inside layer. Add sweetened strawberries and whipped cream.

Cooking: I have a plan, now. I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier, but suddenly I remembered my old friend: Apples for Jam. This cookbook . . . oh, I fell for it hard. I've fallen for all of the Tessa Kiros cookbooks that I have, actually, but this one, for me, turns out to have been the most cookable. This is the one that is full of family food; the one with the gorgeous, evocative photography of bowls of soup and children's playthings; the one with the sweet, memory-laden, slightly windy creative writing (well, they all have that, but this one is about kid stuff); the one that helped me become a mother before I became a mother. It feels familiar and friendly and also like the greatest privilege to be reading it now, making food as I do every day for my child, who is still, at this point at least, eating everything I serve to her  (until she is full and begins flinging it to the floor, and then hanging over the side of her high chair to watch the dog eat my fresh mozzarella . . . the meatballs that took me all afternoon . . . the fish that cost $8.99/lb., etc., while saying in her most I-am-adorable! voice, "Uuuuh-oh! Uh-oh Mommy!!! Uh-oh Mommy!!!" Pointing at the floor, dog licking franctically).

So Sunday I made the spaghetti and meatballs, and yesterday I made the fish parcels (with cod) and the lemon rice pudding with roasted (white) peaches, all from the book. It was all really good, though next time I'll use breadcrumbs and an egg in the meatballs (her recipe called for milk-soaked white bread, and I think that bread crumbs make more tender meatballs — I like them really soft and mushy, myself). Oh, and all of the brown sugar slid off my peaches and burned on the bottom of the pan, but oh well. Still lovely and fragrant (I used a vanilla bean and Meyer lemon and grated the nutmeg) good. I'm enjoying myself a lot, cooking, but wow, it is a LOT of work to cook this way with a one-year-old who no longer wants to sit still for any length of time. I'm trying to do as much as I can early in the day, or during naptime, but still, some things can't be done until dinnertime, and pre-dinnertime is still (and rather suddenly) proving to be kind of insane. I used to be able to have her in her high chair hanging out with me in the kitchen while I cooked, and lately she is not into it. She wants to — you know it! — go 'SIDE. AND NOW!

So, after yesterday I decided that I'm only cooking one thing a day, on these weekdays. Everything else must require nothing more than chopping up (cantaloupe, strawberries, steamed carrots, spinach, green salad, etc.) or come from the deli case at New Seasons (beet salad, caprese salad with those little mozzy balls, yum) in order for it to go on my table. I mean, that just makes sense anyway. I'm not sure why this is a Major Revelation but that just shows you how complicated I've been making everything.

Just as I got to the colorwork part of the light blue Fimma, I put it down. It suddenly felt too daunting in these evenings lazy, light-filled evenings. It's in hibernation. I started a pale pink Lottie cardigan, and I'm loving it. Easy-peasy and relaxing. Sometimes I think I should just forget anything that's not in garter stitch. When life gets a little hectic my GSB (Garter Stitch Barometer) alarms, and I must knit, robotlike, and then turn and knit again, and then turn and knit again (occasionally increasing at well-marked spots) and feel my breathing slow a bit. . . .

And two people — Erica, a long time ago, and recently Ms. Bibliosophy — suggested the Kristin Lavransdatter trilogy. Medieval Norway!!! I got the first book (The Wreath) and can't put it down. Thank you very much for the recommendation!

Oh, and by the way, I've been meaning to say this if I didn't before, I watched all of the Restoration Homes on YouTube through my television. There's a way to connect the devices through my TV; I'm really not even sure how to tell you to do it, honestly — the possibility just popped up on mine through TiVo, I think, and so I connected them. The picture quality is pretty bad but for some reason I didn't even care. And thank you also to those of you who have suggested things for further viewing, if possible (though we don't get to watch all of the shows, even on YouTube, here in the U.S.). I need to go back through your comments and check them out. If you feel like leaving a recommendation here (again) so they're all in one place, would you? Thank you!

Midsummer, already. She just turned twenty months old. A whirlwind of energy and emotion and curiosity and joy: Walking, running, yelling, laughing, crying, pointing, "talking," playing, freaking out, pulling it together, snoozing, cuddling, watering, hugging her animals so fiercely, staring at them lovingly and stroking their heads the way I do hers, kissing them throughout the day, or pressing her forehead to theirs and saying, "Mmmmmmmm." Lovable, kissable, squishable, sweet, dearest loving sweetest girl. I'm so proud of her.

P.S. By the way, all of the flowers on the table are from my wildflower cutting garden or my front yard. Very exciting for me!

Daisy Days comments: 78

The weather here has been very cold and very rainy and very gray and very dim this past week. Every night I've been piling several quilts on top of me and my sofa-seat and knitting, knitting, knitting, or taking warm baths by candlelight in the afternoon with my girl, who lounges in my lap and lets me pour warm water over her for an hour; we turn the hot tap a few times because we sit for so long it gets too cold. The swimming pool is supposed to open next week and I simply can't imagine this. A lonely, empty pool, and us Portlanders at home in the steamy bathtub.

So the midsummer festival felt more like late spring, with daisies and dancing girls and our college friends (and how lucky we are to have them here, thousands of miles away from where we all went to college!). Last year I made Amelia a baby bunad (a traditional Norwegian folk dress; hers was inspired by the beautiful dresses of the Dovre region of Norway, where her birthfather's family is from). This year I just happened to find this little red calico dress at the resale shop and it fit her perfectly. It is a handmade dress, too, so I couldn't resist. I planned to make her a new Norwegian dress every year so I'll just have to start planning for Christmas because I think little red will be too small by then. Super cute princess-seamed pattern, though. I love princess-seamed dresses. You don't see them too much lately (early '80s — I'm just sayin'!).

We had such a nice Father's Day, home all day alone together, cooking and playing. It was just a perfect day with my loves. I made a Dutch baby pancake and scrambled eggs with onions and mushrooms for Andy for breakfast. He made an awesome — possibly his best one ever — stuffed pizza last night. His recipe is the Edwardo's Famous Stuffed Spinach Pizza from the book Pizza: More than 60 Recipes for Delicious Homemade Pizza. If you aren't sure what Chicago stuffed pizza is, I will tell you: Think of an actual double-crust pie. There's a crust on the bottom, and then inside is all of the mozzarella cheese and a ton of fresh spinach. You pack it in. Then there's another crust on the top, and you crimp up the edges, just like with a pie. And on top of this top crust you add a light layer of a lovely, chunky, light tomato-and-garlic sauce, and then just a bit of sprinkled parmesan cheese. The whole thing is a massive concoction. You bake it in a cheesecake pan (I waitressed at Geppetto's in Oak Park after college, and we had special springform pans for our pizzas there, larger and shallower than a typical cheesecake pan; I need to look for one because I think it would help our crust thin out a bit). It weighs — actually, I have no idea how much it weighs, but a lot! The recipe in this book really does taste so much like Edwardo's pizza (which I liked better than Geppetto's, or even Gino's [Chicagoans, you know all these, right?]). Andy makes this about once a year and it is one of my favorite things. I love it, and it tastes like home.

I also made the Bangkok peanut ice cream from my sister's recipe and that was very delicious. Someone asked if this was a Jeni's recipe and I didn't know what that meant, so I looked it up and discovered that yes, it is! (And I am so getting her book.) I found a recipe online for the Bangkok peanut here. I thought it was really lovely — very subtle but with some texture and a bit of a kick from the cayenne pepper. Making ice cream has given me a whole new appreciation for buying ice cream. I have no idea where this ice cream thing I'm going through came from, really. I have really been enjoying it — and by the time it's time to eat it, you really only need to have the smallest of scoops to be happy. I have a lot of ice cream in my freezer. Which makes one feels rather secure. So that's nice.

Today Amelia and I are going to go to the fabric store. I need some skirts. I have a lot of fabric in my stash but it's all small amounts. I think we'll go to Knittin' Kitten tomorrow and look for '80s calicoes, too.

***My Ravelry page for the Fimma sweater is here :)

Cocoa Custard comments: 52

My sister Susie (the pastry chef) gave me some of her ice-cream recipes (including brown butter ice cream, butterscotch ice cream, and Bangkok peanut ice cream [which has cream cheese, peanut butter, coconut milk, honey, fresh ginger, and cayenne pepper in it, holy egads, that's next]). I took her chocolate recipe and added it to my custard recipe and oh, my, cocoastars it was crazy good. Try this, try this:

Brown Sugar–Chocolate Frozen Custard

1 1/2 cups half-and-half
1 vanilla bean
4 oz. milk chocolate chips (I used Guittard, because that's what they had at my store)
1/4 cup cocoa powder (I use Cocoa Barry, which my sister insisted I must buy)
3/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon Kosher salt
7 egg yolks
1 1/2 cups heavy cream

With a sharp paring knife, slit the vanilla bean lengthwise down the center and scrape the seeds into a medium saucepan. Add the bean pod itself and the half-and-half to the pan and warm over low-medium heat until it just barely simmers.

Place the chocolate chips in a medium mixing bowl. Whisk the cocoa powder into the hot half-and-half until it is dissolved. Pour the half-and-half over the chocolate chips and let it sit for a bit until the chips are melted. Stir the now-chocolatey half-and-half until smooth and thoroughly combined.

Whisk egg yolks, sugar, and salt by hand or using a stand mixer (I used the mixer). Slowly pour a very thin stream of the chocolatey half-and-half into the eggs while continuing to whisk; this will temper the eggs and keep them from scrambling. Continue to pour the half-and-half in a thin stream until half of it has been incorporated. Transfer the mixture back into the pot with the rest of the chocolatey half-and-half. Heat on low-medium (do not overheat here, or you will still scramble the eggs) while whisking continuously until the custard is thick and smooth, like pudding. Remove the vanilla bean.

Prepare an ice bath: Fill a 9"x13" baking pan halfway with ice cubes. Find a smaller pan or a bowl that will fit inside of the 9"x13" baking pan. Place the smaller pan or bowl in the larger baking pan and nestle it into the ice so it doesn't fall over. Gradually add the heavy cream to the custard in the saucepan and whisk the mixture until it is smooth. Pour the mixture through a fine-mesh sieve into the smaller pan or bowl that is in the ice pan. Let it sit there (you can stir it occasionally) until it is cold. (I do it this way because I don't have that much room in my fridge and I don't want to heat up my refrigerator trying to cool this stuff off.) It will take a couple of hours for it to get cold (and this is about how long it takes us to walk around the block these days, stopping to sit down frequently). Following the instructions for your ice cream maker, spin this into delicious frozen custard. Give a little bit to your baby and discover that she suddenly is a pro with a spoon.

Amelia's birthfamily are serious chocolate and coffee connoisseurs! She has definitely inherited the chocolate-love gene. I've never seen her eat anything with such focus, and so fast, ever. I gave her about a tablespoon of this (and seriously, it is so rich adults hardly need much more) and the girl about lost her bananas when her little dish was empty.

I got some cute little paper cups and lids at the Cash & Carry. Now to find some cute labels so I can give ice cream to my friends so I don't get any fatter.

***Mimi's dress (it's a one-piece, with the knitted vest sewn in) is from JujuBunnyshop, but I don't see it listed anymore. Cutest clothes there, though.

Strawberries and Cream comments: 95

After I made the lemon ice cream I remembered that I am obsessed with frozen custard. How could I have forgotten that I am obsessed with frozen custard? And by frozen custard I mean specifically the kind they sell in the middle of Illinois. With lots of eggs. It doesn't really exist out here, far away from cornfields, fireflies, and summer nights that stay so hot you go to bed hot and you wake up hot. Inspired by this recipe, I set out to attempt it (but even eggier, because I like eggs) when we had friends 'round for dinner Saturday night. I think I got it.

Frozen Custard like You Get in the Middle of Illinois

1 1/2 cups half-and-half
1 cup sugar
1 vanilla bean
7 egg yolks
1 1/2 cups heavy cream

With a sharp paring knife, slit the vanilla bean lengthwise down the center and scrape the seeds into a medium saucepan. Add the bean pod itself and the half-and-half to the pan and warm over low-medium heat until it just barely simmers.

Whisk egg yolks and sugar by hand or using a stand mixer (I used the mixer). Slowly pour a very thin stream of the hot cream into the eggs while continuing to whisk; this will temper the eggs and keep them from scrambling. Continue to pour the cream in a thin stream until half of it has been incorporated. Transfer the eggs/sugar/cream back into the pot with the rest of the cream. Heat on low-medium (do not overheat here, or you will still scramble the eggs) while whisking continuously until the custard is thick and smooth, like pudding. Remove the vanilla bean and rinse it off; let it dry and put in a mason jar with some sugar which will give you some yummy vanilla sugar in a few days.

Prepare an ice bath: Fill a 9"x13" baking pan halfway with ice cubes. Find a smaller pan or a bowl that will fit inside of the 9"x13" baking pan. Place the smaller pan or bowl in the larger baking pan and nestle it into the ice so it doesn't fall over. Gradually add the heavy cream to the custard in the saucepan and whisk the mixture until it is smooth. Pour the mixture through a fine-mesh sieve into the smaller pan or bowl that is in the ice pan. Let it sit there (you can stir it occasionally) until it is cold. (I do it this way because I don't have that much room in my fridge and I don't want to heat up my refrigerator trying to cool this stuff off.) It will take a couple of hours for it to get cold. Following the instructions for your ice cream maker, spin this into delicious frozen custard, serve with fresh June strawberries, and eat it up. You can transfer it into another container (with a lid) and freeze it if you don't finish it right away. But I think this is best when it's just out of the ice-cream maker.

As far as ice-cream makers go, I know nothing, but I took Amanda's recommendation last summer and bought this one, and it is wonderful. Ice cream in thirty minutes (though you do have to freeze the bowl overnight, at least).

Speaking of freezing, the mornings dawn quite cold and the afternoons heat up to almost 80 degrees. It reminds me of Montana, where I walked to school every morning wearing a heavy sweater, then left it in my office by afternoon when it got to about 90. At some point (when I ran out) I had to bring the truck to school to retrieve the gigantic pile of sweaters in the office because I couldn't carry them all home. We've been changing clothes here twice a day. I cleaned out my dresser and closet this morning. I usually do this twice a year, in spring and in fall. I think I'm the opposite of a hoarder. A reverse hoarder. If I don't have space in my spaces I get very uncomfortable and twitchy and huffy. I can't stand it when every empty space is filled. It leaves no room for inspiration to strike. In spite of my tendency to shed (and I don't think I really have that much stuff anyway), everything I own is completely disorganized and ridiculously wrinkled at the end of each six months. I'll have socks, dresses, pants, underpants, tights, and a bathing suit all in the same drawer. Dresses, in a drawer. It's really weird. Well, my closet is the size of a small bathtub, with two pretty much unusable shelves above my head which hold, for the most part, an empty computer box, one of those gigantic plastic foot spas that you plug in to make your feet jiggle (for about five minutes until you get sick of it), four gigantic pleather purses, and my English riding hat, none of which I ever use but can't seem to part with. Though now that I mention it I think I'll go right back upstairs and get those purses down immediately. I guess there are just some days when I literally stuff whatever is in the clean laundry basket into the most empty drawer, slam it shut and call it done. I don't know why I do that but I always have done. (Speaking in Britishisms now, since watching about eight episodes of Restoration Home over five days.)

Speaking of, I'm embarking on a new (old) decorating trend: Early '80s country. Everyone I've mentioned it to (two people) is appropriately horrified. "You mean like my ex-husband's parents' house?" Probably!!! I'll keep you posted. ;)

My Sweets comments: 105

Homemade Meyer lemon ice cream, Andy's amazing barbeque-pulled pork sandwich, and this beautiful face: my sweetest of sweet-treats. Someone has been using her sippy cup (ocassionally) and eating (ocassionally) from a spoon! So proud! Oh, sweet darling.

We always use my dad's cole slaw recipe with the pork:

Al's Cole Slaw

One 16-oz. package cole slaw mix
1/2 medium onion, grated
3 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons vinegar
1/4 cup mayonnaise
Paprika to sprinkle on top

Mix the cole slaw mix with the onion. Mix the sugar and vinegar into the mayonnaise, pour over cole slaw mix, and stir to combine. Sprinkle top with paprika. Serve on pork sandwiches. Very sweet and very simple.

Is it the weekend yet? I can't wait.

Does anyone have an automatic hose-winding reel? Do they really work? I really want one. I also really wanted one of those expandable fabric-looking hoses (not the little tightly coiled ones but the ones that puff out when they're filled with water) but they've gotten terrible reviews, and everyone says they break and leak very quickly (some immediately, the first day). Wah. My wildflower beds are starting to bloom (very unevenly — I keep forgetting to take a picture) and I want to make sure I don't botch the watering this summer. I don't mind the watering, it's the hose re-winding that destroys me.

Martha's gotten me hooked on watching Restoration Home videos. Last night I watched the one on Coldbrook Farm. I love this show! My other indulgence is watching River Cottage videos and Delicious Miss Dahl videos.

***The vine all over the side of our garage is a climbing hydrangea (three of them, actually). It climbs in the shade without support (has little hairy feet that stick to the wall, which trouble Andy very much, but . . . ).

Home and Away comments: 103

Long birthday weekends are pretty awesome. Andy's involved cake (and yes, I must tell you that I truly think that the cake Martha made for us last summer trumps my longtime go-to chocolate cake, the Hershey's Deep Dark Chocolate Cake! I do still always make the Cloudburst Frosting (scroll down on that page a bit), though; I don't know if I'll ever love a frosting more than this one, but I'm willing to give it a go [I love frosting, especially frostings that are mellow, like this one]); lots of salad rolls, both take-out (as was the entire green-curry-shrimp birthday dinner) and homemade (I used this recipe, and added silken tofu, and it was wonderful); lots of driving (we got our new car); lots of waterfalls and gorgeous views (and babies signing "rain," as she is doing, above [draw both hands down with straight fingers, like rain falling]); and lots of backyard laziness and baby lovin'. It was such a nice weekend, and soooooo nice to have some time off, for both of us. Oh, so nice.

I don't think I realized how stressful buying a car was until it was over. I firmly believe that Andy and I are probably the worst possible car buyers on earth. Everything I read about how to act when you're buying a car is pretty much the exact opposite of what we did. I'm still feeling bewildered about why cars should have different prices for different people, depending on how they negotiate. It reminds me of when I was in Italy (twenty-three years ago), at the post office, asking how much it cost to mail a postcard. The post office dude literally looked me up and down, leaned back, crossed his arms, and said, appraisingly, "For you? Ninety thousand lire!" or ninety million lire, or ninety lire, or whatever it was. I stood there thinking, "No, not just for me, for everyone!" (And I swear, after I paid it, he just tossed the postcard over this shoulder, anyway. Okay, I might be exaggerating that. But seriously, Martha, did you ever get my postcard from Rome?)

And that's how I feel about car shopping, too. Shouldn't there just be a price, and then you pay it if you want to? And if you don't want to pay that you keep shopping? I don't know. There's this point in the process where you're basically like, "Okay, just gimme the damn thing already and let's go home!" Sadly, that point is reached about five minutes into the process for both Andy and me. We're looking at cars but we're thinking, in tandem, "Where should we eat? Is it gonna be sunny all day? Do you want to watch Psych musical again tonight?" and it's all kind of a cool-customer bust.

Eventually, by some miracle, I knew exactly which car I wanted. Certified pre-owned in the model I liked, 2013, and silver. Boom. But none were currently available within 100 miles. :( I stalked the web site of the dealer where we bought our first car (which actually was a pretty good experience, as far as I recall). Suddenly one came up — a miracle! — just when I needed it. I called the dealership so fast I could hardly talk: "Oh my gosh! Hold that car! I'm so excited! I want that one!!! Don't let anyone look at it! I want it!!!!!!!!" I had no idea what the price was, at that point. I told my friend what I did and she about fell off the phone she was laughing so hard. The salesman was probably like, "Awesome, easiest rent I've ever made in my life, lady right there in the blue."

And yeah, we did buy that car (amazingly, from the same guy who sold us our 1995 Volvo sixteen years ago). It is quite lovely. It has Bluetooth. I didn't even know what that was. Our old car didn't even have a CD player (and it had started breaking down every six months or so, and, lately, every week). I said from behind my new steering wheel to Andy as we wound through the gorge on the historic highway, through tall trees and forests of Queen Anne's Lace, watching the blue and green ridges fade into the haze of a perfect summer day,  "You don't even realize how used to all your stuff not working right you really get." And then we were all, wow, look at us entering the new millenium! Cool! It's an absolute delight to put a baby into a car seat without having to first fold your body into an origami crane, then bump her head on the ceiling of the car, then basically sort of toss her toward the seat in the middle, and hope she lands more or less square, then rearrange her from the side while your back is getting completely jacked, and then tighten the straps (while she's reaching for her doll, or her milk, or her shoe). She's always been a really good sport about being put into the car seat (I really don't know how, but that's kind of her style, and more proof that she does not have my DNA), but I see now that there were times when, especially toward the end of the day, I just didn't want to do it again. When I put her in the new car it's like boom, in, and I'm all, "What? That's it? People do it like this? And we can go to a place, and then maybe go to another place?" I don't know. Anyway, the new car feels very safe and very functional, and I suddenly want to go everywhere. . . .