… and my glam mom.

Maybe an explanation is in order? Okay. Here’s the short version (there isn’t really a long version): my mother turned 60 and decided to take up extreme face painting. And hats. Green ones.

And then she made friends with a witch.

Okay, okay. All she did was turn 60 and try out for community theater and land a role in the chorus. She sang and danced. And looked glamorous.

The kids loved the play, except for The Baby Nickel who was tired to start with and left, kicking and screaming, after the first ten minutes. My dad, bless his heart, took him out and held the lunky kid, all 56 pounds of him (really only about 38, but the way dad looked afterwards I think it probably felt like every ounce of 56 pounds, and then some), for the whole two hours. It was the reason Dad was there—Baby Nickel Back-Up—so it wasn’t like we were shirking our parental duties.

Now Yo-Yo wants to act in a play, preferably The Wizard of Oz, of course. (How many of you can say you started your career in the theater after watching your grandmommy dance on stage?) Now, good homeschooling mama that I am, I’m keeping my eyes open for acting classes and children’s theater opportunities. And maybe there will even be something for me. I wouldn’t mind sporting a pair of ghoulish eyes and a perky hat myself. Might even beat out coffee as a pick-me-up.

Ps. Dorothy was there, too.

Some of you, I’m afraid, think that I eat only butter and chocolate, but that is wrong: I only mostly eat butter and chocolate.

Just kidding! I love vegetables and eat them a great deal. One of my favorite wintertime solo meals (solo meaning, obviously, that no one else in my family likes the food—or is around—and so I eat the meal alone) is sauteed Swiss chard with a fried egg and Gruyere, or Parmesan, sprinkled over.

One of the smartest things I did last winter was to harvest a wash basket load of chard, and wash, chop, and freeze it, not even blanching it. Now, when I’m taking a break from butter and chocolate I just run down cellar, fetch a quart container of the chard, rinse it under hot water and toss it into a pan with some melted butter (can’t quite fully get away from the butter, it appears), or olive oil, a minced clove of garlic, maybe some chopped onion, some generous shakes of salt, and a grind of black pepper. I toss it about for ten minutes or so, turn it out into a soup bowl, top with the egg and cheese, and voila!

I love my solo meals.

Don’t look too hard at that picture—you’re not going to find an egg, no matter how squinchy you make your eyes ’cause those are meatballs nestled in the chard.

See, the other day when I ate solo, I decided to forgo the fried egg in place of some leftovers, tiny meatballs simmered in chunky tomato-wine sauce. I think it was even better than the egg, if that could be possible.

Meatballs
Adapted from Epicurious

The original recipe called for a mix of ground pork, veal, and beef, but I used all beef because that is what I had. It would probably be more tender with the mixed meat; I plan to find out in the near future.

The lemon is crucial—do not skimp or substitute.

My kids popped these balls like candy, just plain, fresh from the oven. They even took some without asking, risking invoking my wrath and proving the profound deliciousness of these meaty morsels.

2 onions, chopped
10 cloves garlic, minced
olive oil
3 cups bread, torn into bits
3 cups milk
6 eggs, lightly beaten
2 cups Parmesan cheese, grated
1/3 cup fresh parsley, chopped, or 2 teaspoons dried
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 tablespoon lemon zest
4 teaspoons salt
1 ½ teaspoons black pepper
4 pounds ground beef (or replace some of the beef with pork and/or veal)

Saute the onions and garlic in a bit of olive oil until translucent. Set aside

Soak the bread in the milk for five minutes, strain, saving the bread and discarding the milk (or save for some other baking purpose).

In a large bowl, mix together the soaked bread, eggs, spices, cheese, sauteed onions, and meats—in other words, everything.

Shape the mixture into small balls and place (fairly close together) on a baking sheet that has sides. Bake at 375 degrees for ten minutes. Remove the pan from the oven, turn the meatballs and return them to the oven for another five minutes, or until the meat is no longer pink on the inside and at least one side of the meat has browned. Repeat with the rest of the meat mixture.

Of course, you could also fry the meatballs in an inch or two of olive oil.

Add the meatballs to your favorite tomato sauce and serve over pasta or sauteed Swiss chard. Any meatballs that you don’t use right away (and this makes a lot, so unless you have a dozen children, you will definitely have leftovers) or that the kids don’t snitch, can be dropped into glass jars and frozen.

It was warm yesterday and the kids lived it up to the hilt.

We’ve noticed the robins are back. A particular one (or two) have been jerk-stepping around out front, probably the same ones that built nests there last year, we’ve decided. So before lunch the kids went out and built some more nests, to help out our feathered friends.

After the kids had rest time, they went out to play. When I looked out the window I saw they had hauled the rocking chairs off the porch, found the lawn chairs, and then had arranged the seats in a semi-circle around the fire place. They kept talking about marshmallows; I kept explaining we didn’t have any.

And the next time I looked out the window? Swimming suits and sprinklers!

(I later learned they had snuck in the house to get their suits and then changed in the tool shed, preempting a potential maternal no.)

The Baby Nickel shucking clothes:

Hey! I shucked more than I intended!

Puuuull the undies baaaack up.

It’s hard work, taking pants off.

Maybe it’ll be easier if I sit down.

Free at last! Mama, I need my wimming woot.

A leafless, but clothing-adorned, poplar tree.

Folks, it’s March. You would think it was July, the way they were acting.

It all caught up with them then. They didn’t just use the towels to lay on—

they used them to wrap up in.

I guess the sprinkler cooled them off more than they anticipated.

Of course they had to sleep in the tent, too, it being a warm summer night, and all.

Spring is coming, it really is. I even got down on my hands and knees to bring you some evidence.

Summer will be here before you know it, and spring will arrive even sooner. In fact, longer summer evenings are just a day away. Hang in there.