I’ve always wanted to learn to dance so I decided that since I’m not going to get any younger than I am right now, I might as well just do it. So I signed up for two months of classes: hip hop and jazz, on alternating weeks. The first classes were frustrating and impossible. I felt (mildly) humiliated and enormously humbled and soooo out of my league, BUT.

I am working at it (read: practicing the choreography from the privacy of my home when no one is around) and gradually my arms and legs are moving more generally in the right directions. The whole thing feels like I’m learning a new language, but with my body, and it makes my brain feel like its exploding. 

So far, hip hop is my happy place, but I’m only just starting so we’ll see. 

***

I found the perfect summer comforter.

Three-fourths of the year, we sleep with a down comforter, but once summer hits, it’s just too heavy. Blankets don’t have the same airy, light feel, and the texture is often off-putting, or too warm. So after I bunch of research, I ordered this blanket in mauve.

It’s a hundred percent cotton and machine washable, and the heft is the exactly right.

We liked it so much that I decided to transfer it to the guest room (we’re short on decent blankets of any kind) and ordered a second one for our room but in white because I love the clean bright feel of an all-white bed.

Both my husband and I agree, it’s the perfect summer blanket. 

(And no, in case you were wondering, we do not make our bed. It’s controversial.)

***

That play I auditioned for? I got a part!

It’s raw and beautiful and deeply human. Getting my lines down has been all-consuming, thus my online absence (I can’t do it all, people!). It opens in August and there are eight shows over two weekends. Get your tickets here!

***

One of my rules for summer: BUY THE WATERMELON.

A couple years ago, I gave myself permission to buy a watermelon (or two) every time I stepped in the store. We keep a stockpile of them (okay, okay, so just one or two, usually) in the back hall and then every few days one of us will cut a melon into cubes and pop it into the fridge. It’s the perfect refreshing snack — at any time of day.

Other summer staples include Café Bustelo for cold brew and cones for ice cream.

Drink suggestion: watermelon juice with seltzer, lots of ice, and a squeeze of lime. Vodka optional.

***

My son and daughter-in-law — you know, the ones who live in a skoolie — have started a blog! 

You can follow along here.

***

Right now I’m reading Remedies for Sorrow by Megan Nix.

It’s a beautifully written and gripping memoir about CMV (cytomgalovirus), a little-known, but enormously destructive (dismayingly) common illness. A must-read for everyone, but especially child-bearing women and medical professionals.

***

Anyone else having trouble finding t-shirts that fit? I needed a few more sleeveless shirts for working out, plus a couple of plain t-shirts. But all the plain t-shirts in the store were short — either crop tops or they just fell to (upper-level) hip length. I finally ordered several from LL Bean thinking that surely their tees would be longer, but nope. I had to send them all back.

I finally found a few at TJMaxx when we were in NY, and then the other day I charged into our local thrift store — a topless lady (not really) on a mission (totally). Anything that looked like it might fit me, no matter how iffy, I yanked off the shelves and hurled into my cart. When I’d finally finished trying everything on, I had a pile of shirts — comfortable shirts that worked for me and that I could work in.

Here’s a sampling:

I’d come downstairs in the morning and my husband would glance at me and say, What inspirational saying are you wearing today?

***

What are you watching these days?

Awhile back I started watching Never Have I Ever on my my own, but I didn’t like it — it felt too sappy/cringy — but then people kept raving about it so one night my husband and I watched an episode together. And we both really liked it! We’ve only watched the first season, so I can’t speak to the second yet. (Also we’re currently watching Unchained, the Tour de France documentary. It’s exhausting and terrifying and fascinating. Who are these people?!)

***

Need motivation to just get it done already? Shia LaBeouf has you covered.

Or rather, my daughter-in-law does, since she sent this clip to me. (My husband’s taken to bellowing this to me at random times to pump me up.) 

***

This same time, years previous: no matter what happens, yogurt: the water bath method, the coronavirus diaries: week whatever, happenings, hill of the martyrs, in the kitchen, injera and beef wat, story of a trusty skirt.

Look what we’re buying from the store, y’all. 

Shocker, right?

The short story is that towards the end of June, we dried off (stopped milking) Emma so she’d have several months to recuperate before calving in September or October. This was the plan, and we knew we had Honey to get us through the few months until Emma calved. 

What was not the plan was that Honey was not generous with her letdown. We (read: my husband) learned to work with her other shortcomings — only 3 functioning quarters and a chronic kick reflex — but the stingy letdown was the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

In the beginning, she gave a little under two gallons each morning, but after only a couple months her supply started dropping. Most days, we got only three-quarters of a gallon, and some days it was as little as one and a half quarts — QUARTS! (As a point of comparison, Emma’s production hovered at two-plus gallons every morning and Daisy’s actually increased almost to four before stabilizing at an even-Steven three.) To make matters worse, since Honey was holding her milk back for her calf, we weren’t getting hardly any cream (most of the cream is in the hindmilk). Some days it felt like what we were getting was more water than milk. This, I realized, was why some farmers say calf sharing (where the calf gets half and the humans get half) doesn’t work.

We toyed with the idea of separating Honey and Redbud permanently and switching to twice-a-day milkings, but then we’d have to 1) milk twice a day and 2) feed half the milk to Redbud (because calves that are raised on their mother’s milk to six months of age are markedly healthier, we’ve read). Bottom line? We didn’t want the hassle. 

In a last ditch effort, my husband got some oxytocin, a hormone which causes an automatic letdown. He’d hook Honey up to the milker, inject the hormone into the milk vein, and about 45 seconds later the milk would come whooshing out of her, all two-plus gallons and the cream.

He did that for a couple days in a row and then tapered off the dose — the goal was to retrain her body to let down — but it didn’t work. Without the injections, Honey immediately reverted to withholding all her milk so we called it quits, and this past weekend my husband returned Honey and Redbud to the farm from whence they came. They were on loan to us — in exchange for milk — so even though things didn’t turn out as planned, it didn’t feel like a huge loss and we still benefited from the milk, all the cheeses I tucked away in the cheesecave, and a deeper understanding of the ins and outs of having a family milk cow.

And then this past weekend, we bought another cow!

Her name is Charlotte and she’s a 6-year-old A2A2 Jersey from New Zealand genetics, which means she’s good for grazing. (I have no idea what that last part means but that’s what our farmer friend said so I’m going with it.) Our friend purchased her from a grass-based dairy, and she has had three pregnancies, all Devon-crossed, at our friend’s farm. (Her third pregnancy was a set of twins that aborted, most likely because they were twins.) Charlotte is currently pregnant with her fourth Devon-crossed pregnancy (this calf will be her fifth) and is due in September or early October, right after Emma.

Charlotte’s a gentle cow, our friend said, and his family was sad to see her go, and then he sent me a photo to prove it.

Now, in case you didn’t catch what I said above about Charlotte freshening right after Emma, the addition of a pregnant Charlotte means that, come fall, we’ll have two cows in milk. It’s gonna be nuts, but in the best sort of way. I am so excited.

But for now, for the first time in nearly two years, my husband isn’t heaving himself out of bed to go milk first thing every single morning, and I’m not turning gallons of milk into wheels of cheese. Even though I didn’t really want this break, now that I have it, I’ve decided to savor the sleeping in and the convenience of milk that comes in plastic jugs, no straining, labeling, and washing of clunky buckets required.

These next two months are gonna be sah-weeeeet.

This same time, years previous: Mamma Mia, farmers cheese, the quotidian (7.20.20), three shining dragon eggs (the video’s my favorite!), the delegation, sweet sixteen, in the kitchen, the quotidian (7.20.15), in recovery, roasted beet salad with cumin and mint, whole wheat zucchini bread.

This past weekend we traveled to New York to celebrate my husband’s niece’s wedding.

This was the second cousin wedding on this side of the family, my son’s being the first, but this one was planned in advance, didn’t have COVID cramping the festivities (luckies!), and was held in high summer, all which meant: of the nine kids in my husband’s family, seven were able to make the trip, traveling all the way from Oregon, New Hampshire, Tennessee, Virginia, and Hong Kong. (The two missing families, from Las Vegas and Oregon, have four teens between them, and my younger son who was in NYC was also missing.) Oh, and a foreign exchange sister who flew in from Japan!

We ALL stayed at my brother-in-law’s house. For those of you who enjoy numbers, that’s 39 people, according to my sister-in-law who was hosting (so she should know), and the majority of the kids are between the ages of 17 and 23.

the same sign that’s been on the door since 2017

inside Teen Club

It was a full house.

Day One
Soon after we arrived, my husband and I drove to the venue to help set up.

We arranged votive candles on the tables, hung decorations, and draped twinkle lights. Then that evening everyone showed up for the rehearsal dinner followed by a pizza and wing feast by the lake.

Day Two
The next morning, the day of the wedding, there wasn’t much to do, so rather than sit around, a few of us decided to hike the gorge.

Lovers Lane

We went early, which turned out to have been a very wise decision: on our way up, the trail was mostly empty, but by the time we worked our way back down, we had to squeeze our way through the throngs. 

I’ve hiked the gorge on several different occasions, and its beauty always catches me off guard. I love to pick out which spots in the river I’d swim in, if the water were open to the public. I get why it’s not (see above re the word “throngs”), but still. Some of those stone-lined, deep water holes would be the perfect spot for a private party.

At the very top, there’s a huge trestle crossing the gorge and just as we reached it, a train barreled across.

It was terrifying, seeing the train flying through the air so high up above.

Back home, someone had put a white board on the bathroom door.

So everyone could have a turn, people started showering hours before the departure time. (The bridal party had an AirBnB close to the venue, and my brother- and sister-in-law had rented a camping spot at the venue to park their camper so they’d have a place to escape to over the weekend.)

And then, quite suddenly, everyone was buzzing around doing hair and makeup, strapping on heels, and waltzing out to the driveway-turned-parking lot.

The wedding ceremony lasted all of fifteen minutes (if that), and then, after the cocktail hour and photos, we feasted on a pasta bar with meatballs, chicken, and sausages. 

And then there was the dancing. The cousins (and some other people but mostly the cousins) hit the dance floor and didn’t stop until the DJ quit. Those kids rocked it.

Seneca Lake

Towards the end, they all ran into the lake to cool off, some of them in their swimsuits, or undies, or still in their wedding finery. 

We all cleaned up a bit, and then sometime around midnight we headed back to the house and fell into bed.

carrying the leftover wedding cake back to the house on my lap

Day Three
After sleeping in (I slept until 8:45!!!), we lounged around downstairs, blurrily sipping our coffee. And then my husband, who’d been texting with his brother, announced that they’d be returning with their camper in half an hour and how about we blitz the house?

Thirty minutes and thirty(ish) hands — BAM. It was magic. 

Then there were photos of all the cousins on the lawn…

missing six: the four from out west, my son, and the youngest who was napping

…followed by The Traditional Cousin Send-Off for the bride and groom who were driving to Louisiana where he is stationed.

My husband and I headed out by ourselves to go shopping (I needed t-shirts) and get a little space, and then I cam home and took a nap.

The rest of the day was spent eating candy (a bunch of the cousins had gone on an excursion to a candy store), and eating, playing games, setting of fire crackers, and visiting. 

Day Four
We slipped out of the house early and made it home in time to play Ultimate.  

The End.

This same time, years previous: banana pudding, the coronavirus diaries: week 70, movement, Sunday, roasted feta with honey, the quotidian (7.11.16), the puppy post, a tale, er, tail, what my refrigerator told me, zucchini skillet with tomatoes and feta.