This same time, years previous: my favorite things, talking points rained out, and cinnamon tea biscuits.

When my sister-in-law’s family came to visit last summer, they brought along the fixings for their summer-evening-chilling-on-the-porch adult beverage: some jugs of grapefruit juice and a bottle of Captain Morgan spiced rum. We sipped on the deliciousness for the duration of their visit. When they took off, they left behind the one remaining bottle of grapefruit juice but not the rum. I was sorry to see it (and them, of course) go, but I didn’t blame them.

Fast forward to this week when I stopped by our local liquor store. I was out of rum and Bailey’s. I always put off purchasing liquor for a long as possible because it’s such a blow to the wallet. But summery drink season was dawning. It was time for the plunge.

The children were with me and two of them wanted to come in. Keep your hands in your pockets and stay behind me like ducklings, I barked. I had nightmarish visions of curious fingers, slippery glass, and an extra large bill at checkout.

The kids did just fine, but I got sidetracked in the rum aisle by a Captain Morgan spotting and the subsequent profound longing for grapefruit juice and summer evenings on the deck. At checkout, my bill was higher than anticipated.

That evening I whirled up the rhubarb juice per the recipe for rhubarb daiquiris, but I omitted the rosemary syrup (my rosemary plants are still too small to contribute to the world), added a generous squeeze of lemon, and then the spiced rum instead of the plain stuff.

It’s a sharp drink—lip-puckery and tart—making it the ideal refreshment for hot summer evenings. Before rhubarb season ends, I plan to make a couple extra batches of the rhubarb juice which I’ll freeze in anticipation of a whole summer’s worth of evening drinks.

Captain Morgan’s Rhubarb Sour

For one drink:
1/3 cup rhubarb syrup (recipe below)
1 ounce (2 tablespoons) Captain Morgan’s Spiced Rum
1 thick wedge of lemon, juiced into the glass

Combine all ingredients. Pour into an ice-filled glass. Serve immediately.

For the rhubarb syrup:
3 cups chopped fresh rhubarb
½ cup sugar
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1¼ cups water

Combine all ingredients in a blender and whiz until liquefied. Pour the mixture through a strainer, pressing on the pulp with the back of a spoon to extract all the juice. Discard the pulp. Pour the syrup into a quart jar and store in the refrigerator. (If freezing, measure 2/3 cup of juice into half-pint jars.) Shake well before using.

This same time, years previous: crock pot pulled venison, maseca cornbread, people watching and baby slinging, help, the quotidian, a burger, a play, and some bagels, ’twas an honor, baked brown rice, strawberry spinach salad, bald-headed baby, raspberry mint tea, garden tales, part one, and garden tales, part two.  

My older son hates being told when to turn off his light at night, so we struck a deal: he can stay up late so long as he gets up when we tell him to. (And we are not people to slouch around on the morning. Up And At ‘Em is our motto.)

This has worked just fine until recently. Somehow the kid has gotten the crazy notion that he should also be allowed to sleep in as long as he likes. As a result, waking him up—at the reasonable and relaxed hour of 7:30, thank you very much—has turned into a battle involving multiple shoutings up the stairs and poundings on the ceiling above the dining room table (his bedroom floor). When he finally does heave his exhausted body out of bed, he moves about with such torturous sluggishness that it’s as though he’s still asleep, therefore defeating the purpose of getting out of bed in the first place.

“I don’t see why I have to get up so early,” he’d moan resentfully. “I wish you’d let me sleep as long as I want.”

So on Saturday morning, we did. He slept until 10:30 and then—to our uproarious amusement—spent the rest of the day fussing because we didn’t wake him earlier.

“I meant, Let me sleep until 8 o’clock, or something,” he whined. “Sleeping that late makes me feel like I lost half the day. And I can’t stop being sleepy.” Ha! I couldn’t have crafted a more fabulous learning opportunity if I had tried.

So now we have a new plan:

*He has to be alert and downstairs by 7:30.
*If he needs us to wake him up, he has to tell us. Otherwise we won’t.
*When we wake him, he has to say “Thank you.”
*If he’s late, he has extra math. (His choice of consequence. I was going to charge him money.)

Days One and Two were a success, so… here’s to energetic and cheerful mornings! [clinks coffee mug]

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (5.12.14) and rhubarb sorbet.