Last week, wow.

There were three different sets of overnight, out-of-state guests: my (distant) cousins came for one night, a beloved friend from college and her daughter spent two nights, and dear friends from Indiana spent two nights.

Also, there was a writing group meeting, phone calls with my mom, a backyard bakery staff meeting, an evening concert and birthday party, visits from my older son and his friend, and a walk with my sister-in-law, as well as I had a couple days of work in there, and we put up three bushels of apples and a bushel of apricots, and I made cheeses and fed people. 

It was wonderful, truly — wildly rich with good conversation and food (I GOT TO FEED PEOPLE) and extra long hugs — and it was also overwhelming and exhausting. After such a slow year with endless time to think and process and be, moving so quickly from one deliciously intense conversation to the next, I felt like my head was going to spin right off.

Seriously. You can see the enthusiam with which I attack a conversation as evidenced in the string of photos below, thanks to my older son who snatched my phone out of my wildly waving hands.

(My mom used to compare me to a tornado and my childhood friends said I gave them headaches. Maybe I still do.)

The sudden influx of traveling and guests and social gatherings, I get the distinct impression we’re all a bunch of creatures — locusts, maybe, or groundhogs — slowly emerging from our holes after a long hibernation, looking around and squinting in the dazzling sunshine.

Thursday, there was a gap in The Busy and I had no idea what to do with myself. I felt empty-headed and stunned, like I’d just been blinded by a bright light. I couldn’t even think, really, and ended up spending the bulk of the day reading and dozing on the couch. 

Then, after the final push — a terrifically fun evening with our small group and then a half day in the bakery — yesterday afternoon, freshly showered, I sank onto the sofa. The weekend stretched ahead of me, deliciously open and empty, ahhh. 

So naturally I invited a girlfriend over for coffee.

***

Are we coming to the end of the coronavirus diaries? While certain things, like church, still aren’t back to normal, in most aspects of my life, it feels like the pandemic is winding down. Virginia’s done a decent job of getting out the vaccine, and all my children were old enough to get it — two things for which I’m supremely grateful. Also, I’m fortunate to live in a community with a higher vaccination rate. (Actually, I’m not sure what the rate is out here in the county, but the city is higher, and most of the people in my social circles have been vaccinated.) 

This isn’t the case in other parts of the world, I know, or even in other states and counties. In places with low vaccination rates, the virus is, once again, spiking (here’s a map). My guard’s not down completely — the pandemic isn’t over yet — but for now, at least, in these hot summer months when people can be outside, it does feel like things are settling a bit. 

Come winter, we’ll see…

This same time, years previous: mushroom burgers with cheese, margarita mix, the quotidian (6.10.19), the quotidian (7.9.18), the quotidian (7.10.17), reflections from Kansas City, the puppy post, let’s talk, splash, zucchini skillet with tomatoes and feta.

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

A special treat from the local orchard: for once, the apricots didn’t freeze!

The first bruschetta.

New flavor combo: rye and molasses with fennel seed.

Satisfaction.

Because I couldn’t find good crackers at Costco, I made some from sourdough discard.

The welcome-home pie my mom put in our fridge: black raspberry.

Apricot skillet pie with cornmeal crust.

Test peach rosé; see where I accidentally used salt instead of sugar on some of the roses?

Plated: roasted strawberry with balsamic reduction and basil.

White pizza: not quite as good as my sister-in-law’s, but close.

July 4: 55 quarts of applesauce and 7 quarts of apricots

Tandem nursing.

Cool down.

Modeling the heck out of those toolbelt suspenders.

Grumble, grumble.

The Kauai video‘s big screening.

College kids be so smart they wash dishes without looking.

This same time, years previous: cucumber mint cooler, pulling together, the family reunion of 2016, let’s revolutionize youth group mission trips! please!, our 48-hour date, French yogurt cake, butchering chickens, in their words.

This is a little bit how I feel about having our own milk cow: both incredulous and giddy. 

It’s not perfect (I’m mad about the cream), but it’s still pretty awesome.

***

What We Spent Our Money On. (New York Times) I love talking about personal budgets — the intricacies of how we save it, spend it, give it — and would freely tell all here, except, I am told, hearing people talk openly about their finances is a little bit like watching someone run around naked: horrifying, disturbing, and culturally inappropriate. So I don’t.

***

Here’s another fun New York Times article: the invisible greenspeople and what they do, all about the people who create the landscaping for movies, like moving whole trees(!) The backstory of art-in-the-making is, I think, maybe even better than the final product. Does everyone feel like this or am I the only one? 

***

I mentioned that my older son skipped our family road trip in order to go to Hawaii with his friend, a week which was, according to him, “arguably the seven best consecutive days of my life.”

^{photo credit: Theo}

He rented a beefy motorcycle and solo toured the Kauai Coast, went on a rafting tour, and skydived. (His friend’s parachute didn’t open — GULP — and the instructor had to pull the emergency chute’s ripcord.) 

hitch-hiking

When we were hiking down the Beehive, he called to talk: six hours earlier than us, he was hiking up a mountain by himself in the pitch black to see the sunrise. There are wild boars here, he said. I don’t care, I said. I’m getting over a near-death experience myself.

Hearing his tales, I was reminded of what I’d told my kids after our Belize vacation went horribly awry. “You have your whole lives ahead of you in which to explore the world and find the best coral reefs,” we said. “When you find them, send us photos, ‘kay?” 

So then my son one-upped me and made a little video. Enjoy! 

This same time, years previous: so you’re thinking of homeschooling.., Vieques!, weekending, continued, the summer’s first trip, creamy cauliflower sauce, when the wind blew, berry almond baked oatmeal.