I buy limes every time I go to the grocery store whether I need them or not. I think I had about four bags of limes knocking around in my crispers yesterday afternoon, but now there are only two.

Because I made this.

I’m not really a cocktail girl. I like them plenty, but I don’t usually go out of my way to make them because they entail doing one more thing in the midst of the pre-supper crunch. Plus, they imply that you might be relaxing prior to supper and I don’t relax prior to supper—I crunch. So therefore, I have no cocktail glasses and these lovelies had to make do with wine glasses. Not that it made them any less delicious.

This drink has inspired me in a big way. Not only do I want to go thrift shopping for cocktail glasses but I also want to throw a party so I can share the slushy goodness with the world.

But throwing a party would mean I would have to vacuum the floors and wash the kitchen windows and pick up the bazillion socks, shoe liners and plastic cups that litter our yard. So I think I’ll skip the party and just drink them all myself. Sorry.

I fixed up the drinks last night (it was hot as the dickens so it was salad night which meant I wasn’t crunching) before Mr. Handsome made it back from taking the van to the garage to get it “listened to.” (Not good news, and have I told you that our washing machine on spin cycle sounds like a freight train and that it pees water all over the bathroom floor? We’re going to have to get that machine a diaper if this behavior continues.)

Anyway, before he even got home I had drunk half of mine, and when he walked in the door I yelled, “HEY!” which made him jump, and then I sprinted to the freezer where I had stashed his drink, thrust it into his hands, and demanded, “Now tell me what you think!” Then I scrutinized him while he tentatively licked the rim and took a sip.

“Well?” I said, ever impatient. “What do you think, huh? Do you like it?”

“It’s good,” he said. (Lick, sip.) “It’s really good.”

“Shoot,” I said. “I was hoping you wouldn’t like it so I could drink yours.”

(Lick. Sip.)

(Scrutinize, scrutinize.)

(Lick. Sip.)

“Aren’t you even going to ask me about the van?” he prompted.

“Oh yeah. So how’s the van?” And then he proceeded to tell me something about shafts and belts, but I was so focused on watching him sip that beautiful drink and brush sugar crystals off his lips (I went a little overboard on the sugar rim) that I heard nary a word.

Slushy Mojitos
Adapted from the July 2010 issue of Bon Appetit

I halved the rum since I’m a modest drinker (and wanted to save room for a rum and coke [with lime!] later, shhh), but if you’re feeling frisky, go ahead and increase the amount to a half cup.

1/4 cup fresh lime juice
1/4 cup Gold rum
3 tablespoons sugar
2-3 cups ice
6 mint leaves, plus extra for garnish

To prepare the glasses, rub a wedge of lime around the rims, wetting about 1/4 inch down on the glass, and then dip the glasses into your sugar canister.

Combine the lime juice, rum, and sugar in the blender and blend till the sugar is dissolved. Add two cups of ice and blend till creamy smooth. Add the mint leaves and some more ice (up to a whole cup) and blend till smooth.

Divide the drinks between two glasses, garnish with sprigs of mint, and serve.

Note: These can be made ahead of time and stored in the freezer for 20 minutes, longer if you’ve doubled or quadrupled the recipe. Stir and serve.

1. I love my bowls. I have lots of them, a whole stack of metal ones, and some plastic and glass ones as well.

I use them every day, but they get extra heavy usage in the summer. I grab two or three before heading out to the garden and fill them up with whatever it was I was going out to the garden for: asparagus, strawberries, lettuce, spinach, peas, chard, red raspberries, you name it.

I don’t have any real point to my tale except to say that the value of a good stack of bowls can not be underestimated.

2. What do you see when you look at this picture?

Peas, you say?

Ha! If only! You want to know what I see? I see long rows and little yield. I see marital strife (Grrrr). I see a burned back and sore leg muscles. I see an insane amount of weeding.

Peas, my foot.

(They do taste delicious, though.)

3. Recently, Yo-Yo read Holes to Miss Beccaboo.

Every chance they got, they’d disappear for loooong stretches of time. I didn’t blame them; it’s such a fabulous read aloud. If you haven’t read it yet, do so. Please.

4. Miss Beccaboo still isn’t reading. I have lots of things to say about this state of affairs, but I’m not sure what they are or how to say them so you’ll have to wait.

5. Our new book-club read is Interpreter of Maladies. I’ve heard such good things about it that I bypassed the library entirely and ordered it straight from Amazon. The group just finished reading The Lacuna, except that I didn’t finish reading it because I didn’t like it. But then I listened to the women discuss the book, realized that I had already (back in my MCC days, perhaps?) read a book about Frida, and decided that I’ll finish it after all, maybe even starting over from the very beginning.

See? Book clubs are good things! They push you to finish what you started (at least this time around).

6. Lemon Ice Cream with Red Raspberries, oh yes.

I got this recipe from a friend from church. She recommends serving it with gingerbread and red raspberries, but I just went with the berries and it was superb.

The lemon stands out in a big way, and since it’s made with half-and-half instead of cream, it’s lighter, like how lemon feels.

Because of the lemon zest, pulverized though it is, the ice cream is not creamy smooth. This bothers me when I eat the ice cream plain (and could be solved by straining the mix after letting the cream steep with the zest for a day in the fridge), but when mixed with red raspberries, the problem disappears completely, thanks to the berry seedy (ha!) distraction.

Lemon Ice Cream with Red Raspberries
Adapted from my friend Jodi’s recipe, and before her (according to her) from the China Moon cookbook, whatever that is.

½ cup, slightly overflowing (in other words, 9 tablespoons) fresh lemon juice (2-3 large lemons)
the zest from those lemons
2 cups half-and-half
1 cup sugar
pinch of salt
1-2 cups red raspberries

Wash the lemons, pat dry, and zest them.

Put the zest and sugar into a food processor and process for several minutes (set the timer for three minutes and go from there) till the juice starts to liquify. Add the lemon juice and pulse to blend.

Pour the mix into a glass bowl and add the half-and-half and the salt. Stir to combine. Let the mix rest at room temperature for about twenty minutes. It will thicken and curdle a little. Don’t worry about it—it’s all good.

At this point you can refrigerate (or even freeze) the mix until you’re ready to churn it. (If you choose to strain it to remove the zest, first refrigerate it for 6-24 hours in order to obtain optimal lemony-ness.)

Pour the mixture into your ice cream freezer and churn for 25-30 minutes.

This is good right off the bat, but it freezes well (cover the ice cream with a piece of plastic wrap) and scoops great even when frozen solid.

Scoop into dainty glasses and top with fresh red raspberries.

Yield: about a quart

About one year ago: Nothing, so go read this post: Groundhog Quiche. It pretty much sums up my little brother.

The girls were gone this past weekend, drastically reducing the amount of hullabaloo that goes on around these parts and allowing for the boys to get more of our attention and/or get away with a bunch of stuff they don’t normally get away with, like using the machete and driving the truck.

Yep, Yo-Yo got his very first driving lesson! He did a pretty darn good job, too.

Though he could hardly see over the steering wheel.

He always likes to tell me about how he’s going to drive 120 miles per hour as soon as he can drive, how he’s going to race cars, how he’s going to take corners on two wheels. In one attempt to give him a lesson in reality, Mr. Handsome has wibble-wobbled the car all over the road, demonstrating how new drivers typically drive. But the questions and bragging don’t stop. I pretty much ignore him, figuring he’s all bluster (though his papa has some hair-raising driving stories to tell about back in the day when he was a bloomin’ 17-year-old fool so I suspect Yo-Yo will rack up some of his own tales someday, but I don’t like to think about it so I don’t).

The driving lesson came about like this:

Mr. Handsome and I were sitting at the kitchen table shelling peas when Yo-Yo approached us and asked, “Can I have a driving lesson?” Mr. Handsome, without missing a beat, said Sure, and Yo-Yo’s eyes about popped. Then he quickly ducked his head and attempted to suppress the grin that was threatening to split his face in half. He finally gave up, threw back his head, and half-yelled, half-crowed to the heavens, “I CAN’T STOP SMILING!”

We just sat there, shelling away, placidly watching as he valiantly struggled to regain composure.“You have to clean the bathtubs and do some other jobs first,” I said, in an effort to help him out. It worked for a minute. He steadied himself, took a slow, deep breath … and then resumed smiling.

Later that afternoon after he did his jobs (and he did them well, too!), the boys all piled into the truck. Mr. Handsome and The Baby Nickel sat in the passenger seat and Yo-Yo manned the controls. He drove down through the field, behind the chicken coop, and back up to the barn. Twice.

When the kid got out of the truck he was two inches taller and had a deep voice.

Pretty impressive driving lesson, that.

Actually, he walked around with his hands in his pockets, kicking at some rocks with the toe of his sneaker, trying to pretend it was no big deal and failing miserably.

About one year ago: A public service announcement that was then quickly followed with There’s a red beet where my head used to be. I have no excuse.