chrysanthemum

Not wasting my $8.95 for June

Do you want excuses, or do you want pictures? Me too. I have always hated giving excuses. They're lame. Even when they're true, nobody wants to hear them. So here:

This last weekend was our annual Father's Day camping trip. We went with another family--the ones we always go camping with--to Dosewallips State Park, which has much to recommend it to the western Washington camper. For example:

• It is not far from home. One short ferry ride and an hour's drive and you're there. It feels like a million miles from the city though.
• It's right next to the Hood Canal, on a crazy-productive mud flat full of clams and oysters. We have no license for clamming or oyster gathering, but we've got $5 for three pounds of gorgeous, delicious clams at the local shop. They were amazing.
• Dosewallips campground has platform tents. Big tents, the size of my living room. Up off the cold, stony ground. And full of furniture. I haven't seen tents like this since Camp Windigo when I was 12. And I have never been this comfortable in a tent before. (The cots at Camp Windigo were pretty droopy.)   

On Friday night, I dreamed that I walked out of the tent and saw an owl sitting on a branch in plain sight. It was good dream, and when I told Michael about it in the morning, he told me that dreaming of an owl is good luck. Could be...

 

Saturday morning, the kids (three of them) and I had a short morning hike through the woods. Every one of them urgently needed to pee in the woods at least once in the first twenty minutes, and when things started getting bleaker than that, I made them turn back. It was just a post-breakfast walk--I hadn't brought supplies!

Later we all walked out to the beach. The mud was thick and gooey--two kids lost their shoes and spent a few minutes hopping around getting their socks well and truly black--and the beach was alive with tiny crabs. We were amazed at the number of people of every age and description out there in tall boots: digging, shucking, hauling their goods back to the land. Teenagers carrying huge bags of clams, one little boy proudly guarding his family's lot of oysters, shucked and packed six to a bag. I could tell he was excited about the night's dinner plans.

I always have my reservations about camping trips, which must just be what I'm like, because really, our camping trips always turn out to be fun. Next time I'm just going be flat-out excited from the start.

Not what you're thinking

I bought this jar of pickles on Saturday. Five days ago. Half a gallon of pickles. In five days. I had no idea my family loved dill pickles this much. I rarely buy them, but they seemed like something the kids might find amusing in their lunch boxes for a day or two, and sheesh, it's looking like maybe they ate them at every meal. Maybe even instead of every meal. They are strange children with peculiar eating habits...

Batteries not included

First, a short conversation:

    Lyra: How does Santa get back up the chimney?

    Ben: ...

    Me: Magic!

    Ben: Yeah, magic. Like he uses to make the reindeer fly.

    Lyra: He doesn't have a remote control for them?

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And second, a new hat. An actual finished knitting project! 27 hours from winding to wearing. Wearing it while brushing my teeth and reading in bed last night totally counts, right?

This is Porom from Jared at BrooklynTweed, knit in Classic Elite Fresco, a nice blend of wool, baby alpaca and angora with a pretty halo that's not too fuzzy (the link is to Clara Parkes' review--I love having her thoughts on a yarn before I buy it online). I was worried about the hat's potential mushroom effect, but I actually really like it. It's light and soft and warm. I'm wearing it right now. With my bathrobe.

About yesterday

Yesterday was a Bad Day. I'm glad it ended. There were moments when I thought it wasn't going to. I was sad and lonely and feeling very put-upon. I foolishly allowed my feelings to be hurt by my 3-year-old, and then I started taking everything personally. And yelling. Like I said, it was a Bad Day.

Mushroom casserole

I try my hardest not to say anything when I'm angry. Some people are frustrated by people who are quiet when they're mad, and I understand that. I understand how that can be taken as passive-agressive or withdrawal or whatever. But I'm a thin-skinned person -- from way back -- and I try to keep my mouth shut when I'm mad, because I know that once you've said a thing, all you can do is apologize for it. There's no way to really take it back. Yesterday, though, I let it go, and today there are more hurt feelings than just mine.

 

Chocolate pudding

So today I worked at home instead of going into the office. I sat at the computer by the window and appreciated the sun shining in on me. I drank tea and took some time to make some comfort food, some for the grownups and some for the kids. I wrote a note to my dad, which I hardly ever take the time to do. Usually when I need some comfort, I call my mom, but sometimes, when I feel really bad, it's my dad that I want the most, and you know, just writing him a little note made me feel so much better. I didn't even need the response so much as the reaching out. Isn't that crazy? And then tonight I had restorative knitting and chocolate cake with Val, and now I feel actually calm.

Christmas tree with curious dark spot in front, since fixed. 

I think December is kind of a struggle for me -- it's so dark and so... full. I've got all this angst about gifts and money and magic and appearances, and wow... I need to light some candles. I need to remember that the light is coming back. That struggle is not what this celebration is supposed to be about. I'm not sure how to do that, but I'm working on it. Tomorrow is going to be a new day. I'm going to get some sleep.

Let's pretend it's snowing, and when we wake up everything will be beautiful.

A monstrous elf

At least, I think it's an elf. I know it has elf ears. In addition to the laser beam, kung-fu grip, sticky tentacle and smelly feet. Apparently he had some kind of unfortunate encounter with some toxic waste.

I'm currently rereading American Gods, even though it hasn't even been a year since the first time I read it, mostly because it was just waiting there by the side of my bed when I got bored with the book I'd checked out of the library, and I'm really feeling the love for Neil Gaiman. I need more Neil Gaiman. I'd even take some of his graphic novels, though I think I'd prefer the all-text ones, being the word nerd that I am. And yeah, it's fairly obvious that my boy, with his funny admiration for Captain Underpants, is pretty far from Neil Gaiman territory, but I can still nurse a little fantasy in which he grows up to be a super-cool graphic novelist. Right? Right?

Two company dinners

I love to bake. This past weekend was so, so satisfying:

• four loaves of bread
• a pear crisp
• an apple pie
• a mess of pie crust cookies

plus

• a big pot of beef and barley soup
• three large jars of applesauce
• an eggplant parmigiana

I didn't get any knitting or sewing done, but that pie was everything I wanted it to be.

This is what happens if you slice your pie-crust cookies too thin: they all fall over while they're baking and you end up with pinwheels. Every bit as tasty.

We had dinner guests on Saturday and Sunday nights this weekend. We often have friends over for dinner, and we almost always include the kids in the preparations; they help with chopping or baking baking or setting the table. My parents entertained all the time when I was growing up, and while I wouldn't claim that I always loved helping with their dinner parties, having dinner parties always seemed like the most natural thing to do. I love planning menus, even simple ones like these two meals were, making food and then just feeding people.

On Sunday morning the kids and I went out to Target to get some more back-to-school clothes, and they were very keen to get some Halloween decorations. Ben picked out this jack-o-lantern window cling set, and Lyra chose a pack of Halloween paper plates. She set the table with them last night. They didn't really seem sturdy enough for eggplant parmigiana, so we ended up swapping them for our regular plates, but I'm hoping that her interest in setting the table is the start of a long love of cooking for her friends too. 

Milestone

The first tooth was lost this summer on the playground at camp. Truly lost. In the grass.

This tooth came out (after days of tongue wiggling) after lunch at school. The school nurse gave him a teeny tooth shaped box to hold it in. The box was on a keyring with a lanyard tied on so he could wear it as a necklace. During P.E. This one was lost somewhere in the gym. Ben says it was small and dirty (shudder), so the Tooth Fairy probably wouldn't have left him much for it anyway. He wrote her a little apology. I'm sure she'll take it to heart.

I'm currently entertaining ideas of what the Tooth Fairy looks like. Savage, I expect, with a heavy necklace of teeth around her neck. I bet she has terrible bedhead and dirty fingernails, too. She'd need to be tiny, though, with an innocent(-ish) face so as not to scare any young ones who accidentally catch a glimpse of her. Ben says it's best not to look right at her because then you'd want to get her. Maybe he thinks she glows, like a firefly? A fairyfly with a toothy necklace. I like that...

Stayin'-home day

My wee girl asks me every morning, either after she climbs in bed next to me for a snuggle, or while she stands in the doorway of the kitchen, squinting into the light, "Is it a school day or a stayin'-home day?" Five times of out of seven, no surprise, it's a school day. I could work myself up into a righteous, guilty rage about it, but the fact is, ours is a two-income family, and we're going to stay that way for the foreseeable future. Sometimes a little vacation day is in order, though. Lyra and I had one today, with donuts and dandelions. I wish tomorrow was going to be another stayin'-home day.

Seven Wonders of my Son

His birthday was nearly a week ago now, but why stop celebrating?

1. His handsome face: warm brown eyes, perpetually pink cheeks and ready smile.

2. The way he occasionally collapses with laughter--seriously, if something's really funny, his legs crumple and he falls on the floor in fits of laughter.

3. He burps the loudest, grossest burps I have ever heard. And he believes they are audible in outer space.

4. He still lets me kiss him goodbye each morning at school. Just a quick peck on the top of his head, but I can tell it makes him happy too.

5. His sister drives him nuts, but he's still willing to play with her, read to her, hold her hand, and teach her valuable lessons--mostly about vile bodily functions.

6. He's big enough to spend an hour now reading quietly in his room. Alone. Captain Underpants is my friend.

7. He's mine, mine, mine. I've been wild about him ever since he got here, of course, but really, as much as I loved him seven years ago, I could never have imagined how much I love him today.

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That's pretty much exactly the same cake I made for Lyra, Ben just wanted blue frosting instead of pink, and he requested a fish on top. He considered this very professional (his word choice). What a good boy.

Hi Mom!

Remember the lunar eclipse last month, and all the bloggers the next day who said, "Yeah, that was really hard to photograph..."? That's how I feel about Lyra. The child is always blurry. Or smiling funny, or covering her face, or running away. Ben is so much more cooperative--well, sometimes. OK, only today.

This morning Lyra actually elected to wear the supercute sweater my mom made her for her birthday. It's crucial that I not try to influence Lyra's decision in any way while she's choosing what to wear--otherwise there'll be a big kerfuffle--but today she picked the jeans and the black T-shirt (these are offered as a pair in the drawer) and then shouted "Oh, it looks so good with this sweater!" Since she kept it on for the rest of time we were at home (how many times has she put the sweater on only to take it off two minutes later?), I decided to seize the moment for a fast photo shoot. This is what I got:

All that, and I still managed to catch my bus. Thanks, Mom. We love the sweater.