• the quotidian (10.1.12)

    October 1, 2012
    Quotidian: daily, usual or customary;
    everyday; ordinary; commonplace

    Disclaimer: this is not your regular quotidian post. In fact, this isn’t a quotidian post at all. There is nothing quotidian about our annual soiree. However, it’s Monday and I’ve written about these weekend getaways plenty of times before (the proof: 2008, 2009, 2010, and 2011), so I’m doing this post a la the quotidian.



    The scene. 
    Just to give you an idea of what we ate: lamb, roasted red pepper soup, lemon curd-blackberry parfaits, cheese plate, out-of-this-world broccoli, good bread, seafood, 
    fries with three dipping sauces, flour-less chocolate cake. And so on. 
    My tummy was exceedingly happy.
    Lots of talk time. Topics covered: fashion, birth, orgasms, orthodontia, food, children, books and blogs, hosting, picky eaters, thrifting, writing, etc. My auntie Valerie told a story about the time a mouse got trapped in her sweatpants and I laughed so hard my ears hurt. She also told about how, three weeks ago, she surfed down the stairs, headfirst, with guns.
    My Auntie Valerie made the breakfast eggs. 
    They were creamy and delicious and I had three helpings. 
    (I saw the skillet before she added the eggs – it was swimming in butter. Awesome.) 
    We drank water from pretty glass bottles with orange lids. 
    Artsy fartsy: red on black checks. 
    The entertainment: in-home, full-body massages! 
    I learned that I have a degenerative disk. Or something. 
    “Does this mean I’m going to be hunch-backed?” I asked. 
    She never answered me directly, I don’t think.
    Should I be worried?
     Sunday morning, we modeled (and made off with) Auntie Perfection’s cast-offs.
    Here, another aunt (a.k.a Legs) is doing the catwalk.

    Back home after feasting at a fancy restaurant, we gathered round the fire for more chat time. 
    My mother gave Auntie Perfection some slippers that she found at a thrift store,
    in honor of my aunt’s cat.
    Charlie liked them.
    (Full disclosure, someone placed the slippers around the resting Charlie.) 
    Auntie Perfection modeled two recently-purchased dresses. 
    She bought them for a wedding she had to go to. 
    She couldn’t decide, so she bought them both. 
    The black one won out.

    This same time, years previous: because reading books is dangerous, chocolate birthday cake, ciabatta, dumping, peposo, butterscotch cookies

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  • 37

    September 28, 2012

    My birthday was on Tuesday.

    from my sister-in-law and niece

    The kids were super excited and spent lots of time planning the day. But then we got wind of what they were planning—to get up at 5 am to make me breakfast and have the day off of school work—and the poo hit the fan.

    So then I had to mediate between my hyped-up kids and a husband who never plans anything. By “mediate” I mean “yell at.”

    To my kids: IT IS NOT RELAXING FOR ME WHEN EVERYONE GETS UP EARLY!

    To my husband: ENGAGE, BOB. NOW.

    To everyone: IT IS MY BIRTHDAY AND YOUR JOB IS TO WORK TOGETHER TO MAKE ME HAPPY!

    And then I sent them all upstairs to work it out.

    lunch, by the kids: note the copious amount of tinfoil 
    and the napa cabbage in place of lettuce (it was actually quite delicious)

    My expectations for the day were fairly low. No cooking (unless I wanted to), I said. I wanted writing time, my husband to come home early from work, lots of evening time in which I could read out loud to the kids, and a movie after the kids were in bed. When my husband asked me what I wanted for supper, I said, “I don’t care, but everyone has to like it and there needs to be a vegetable.”

    I spent the afternoon of the birthday day shopping for clothes and drinking coffee, no kids, no supper responsibilities, no nothing. It was lovely.

    Also, I had my first famous person spotting. When I told my husband, he said, “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. Was it a political figure?”

    “No.”

    “A celebrity?”

    “No.”

    “Someone from the newspaper?”

    “Yes.”

    “From the cooking section!” a child interrupted.

    “Yes.”

    “The Amish Cook?”

    Huh? She’s not from around here, so “No.”

    “Um… I don’t know anyone else…” He was studying his plate, thinking hard. I caught the kids’ eyes and made a jabbing motion towards myself.

    “You!” they all yelled, and we about fell out of our chairs laughing because I was the famous “spotted” person.

    The Story: I was walking through Wal-mart when a woman stopped me and asked if I write a cooking column. I quickly wiped the glazed-over stupid look, the one I get when I’m shopping, off my face and beamed, “Why yes!” She’d clipped the mac and cheese recipe from the paper, she told me, and her grandsons love it. We stood there in the florescent lighting and bonded over the column and recipes in general and husbands who sometimes cook and what they make (cracker stew) and Amish heritage. I couldn’t stop grinning.

    After a supper of sloppy joes, green beans, chips, and pineapple upside down cake, I sat on the brick hearth and the kids gave me their gifts: candy, candy, and more candy. Pure sweetness. We started our new read-aloud, The Westing Game, and then my husband and I watched another episode of Once while I ate a bowl of my birthday cereal, Reese’s Puffs.

    This same time, years previous: she outdid herself, the skirt, birthday minutia

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  • the quotidian (9.24.12)

    September 24, 2012
    Quotidian: daily, usual or customary;
    everyday; ordinary; commonplace

    I discovered this picture on my camera, courtesy of one of the kids. 
    It spoke to me.

    Awaiting the arrival of a girlfriend.

    Hanging out in the grape arbor.
    (A no-longer permissible activity as they were damaging the vines.)

    Apple pie: every September should have one. Or six. 

    Sunbathing.
     

    Soaking up every minute of a visit from The Greats.

    Helping Grandma stuff envelopes for a mailing.

    Trying to close a closet door with his toes. 
    Back story: I showed the kids some videos of Tisha UnArmed 
    Immediately afterwards, I told the kids to blitz the house. 
    However, thanks to Tisha, they insisted on doing all the chores with their feet: 
    dusting, sweeping (didn’t go over so well), putting things away, folding blankets.
    The house didn’t get very clean, but they had a blast.
     (Thanks, Kate!)

    Studying the algebra. 
    Actually, in this case, it’s more a lesson in the importance of being neat 
    than of numerical computations.

    Apples, popcorn, and Sunday night movie: a tradition.
    (It’s quite the letdown when the Netflix movie doesn’t work, though.)

    This same time, years previous: when the relatives came, Thousand Island slaw with roast chicken, hurdle-free molten brownie cakes (I forgot about these!), soiree 2010, we love Fred, soiree 2009, simple roast chicken, one hot chica

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