• the quotidian (9.4.17)

    Quotidian: daily, usual or customary; 
    everyday; ordinary; commonplace



    Monster melon.

    Coming in October: Agnes of God. I’m the psychiatrist.

    Continual soundtrack: Just GO, will you?

    She wanted a lesson so I delegated.

    Stuck popcorn kernel (probably): I can feel it but no one can see it.

    Every night she takes Velvet out to pee. Makes cleaning the stall easier.

    Beyond excited: a weekend wildnerness camping trip with friends (no adults!) in the rain and cold.

    Entryway whiteboard inspiration.
    (So I think it’s probably safe to assume that the two older kids did a lot of growing this weekend.)

    This same time, years previous: in my kitchen: 5:25 p.m., the cousins came, the quotidian (9.2.13), the quotidian (9.3.12), roasted tomato and garlic pizza sauce, roasted peaches, picture perfect, honey whole wheat cake, blueberry coffee cake.

  • southern sweet tea

    A few weeks ago, a reader (hi, Tracy!) left a comment on my post about cold-brewed iced tea:

    I worked in a small cafe for a while and their ice tea was sooooo smooth and delicious. I received the secret from the owner. A large batch of ice tea always got a big pinch of baking soda after brewing. 

    What in the world?? I’d never heard the likes! I did a quick Internet search and sure enough, baking soda in iced tea is totally a thing. As in, everyone does it. The reason, they say, is that the baking soda counteracts the tannins in the tea, making the drink smoother.

    So I promptly brewed up a batch (hot, not cold) and sure enough, it was superb. I’ve always thought sugar was responsible for cutting the acidity of iced tea and that I’ve never been that partial to iced tea because I often skimp on the sugar. But maybe it’s the actual bitterness of the tea that’s always deterred me? Does the addition of baking soda mean that I can get away with less sugar?

    I don’t know yet. I’ve only made the tea according to the recipe. Our weather’s just turned cool (now I’m craving hot drinks, not cold), but sooner or later, I will. In the meantime, here’s the recipe. It’s supposed to be classic Southern: sweet, but not sweet sweet.

    Southern Sweet Tea
    Adapted from Garden Betty.

    Feel free to jazz this up with lemon wedges and fresh mint. A splash of bourbon doesn’t hurt either.

    4 black tea bags (I used decaffeinated Lipton)
    ¾ cup sugar
    ¼ teaspoon baking soda

    Bring 8 cups of water to a boil. Remove the pan from the heat, add the tea bags and baking soda and stir gently. Cover with a lid and steep for 5-10 minutes.

    In a small saucepan, combine the sugar with 1 cup of water. Simmer until the sugar is dissolved 

    Remove the tea bags and stir in the sugar syrup. Chill and serve.

    This same time, years previous: blueberry muffins, way to go, kids, the quotidian (9.1.14), caramelized oatmeal topping, dreaming.

  • chomper

    A few months back, my husband uncovered a nest of turtle eggs at the job site. “What’s with all the ping-pong balls?” he asked. My older son identified them as turtle eggs and brought them home where the younger kids filled a bucket with dirt, put the eggs in and then covered them with more dirt. They parked the bucket in a sunny spot in my flower bed, but after a couple months of nothing happening, I ordered the bucket gone, so they moved it over by the tool shed.

    Last week, my younger son checked on the eggs. “They’re probably all rotten,” my husband said, so my son tore one of the eggs open. And inside was a baby turtle…ALIVE. It was all slimy and still attached to a large yolk sac.

    My son placed it on a damp paper towel in a box, positioned a lamp above, and ever since then he’s been obsessed.

    He wakes early to observe his premature pet, and he spends hours each day researching all things turtle. He’s identified it as a snapping turtle (oh joy) and spews all sorts of turtle-y facts to anyone who will listen. He’s relocated the rest of the eggs to a box of sand and set it under a heat lamp to speed the process (again, oh joy).

    for size comparison, a quarter

    We keep warning him that Chomper (ha) might not make it, but that hasn’t stopped him from building a very large (oh, so hopeful, that child!) home from cardboard, tinfoil, and tape for when Chomper is grown.

    And he’s made a survival chart. He proudly checks off each day the turtle stays alive.

    back when he still thought (hoped) it might be a box turtle

    And rather miraculously enough, it’s still alive! The yolk sac—its only food source for now—is shrinking daily, so I guess it’s getting the nourishment it needs.

    In the beginning, the turtle looked, and acted, mostly dead (every 15-30 seconds it’d take a giant breath and we’d all exhale, too), but now the turtle blinks, wiggles its very long tail, sticks out its head, and creeps about.

    This same time, years previous: the quotidian (8.29.16), peach crisp, it all adds up, they’re getting it!, grape parfaits, 2011 stats and notes, roasted tomato sauce, pasta with sauteed peppers and onions.