I don't want to be a big giant baby, I really don't--but it's supposed to be in the 90's here for the entire future 10-day forecast and probably beyond, and all I can say is "Waaaaaaaaaaah!"
It wasn't supposed to happen this soon! It's only the beginning of June! It's too soon for hot and humid! I was supposed to have a couple more weeks!
Every year I take it harder (insert rueful laugh.) The summers are going to be what drives me out of Virginia, I swear it!
Anyway, here's a couple of red pictures--from indoors this time. Although I can't stay inside till this heat wave's over, so I may as well go out and get some groceries. Ugh.
It's been fun the past couple of days, looking for red things in my daily life.
Look at what I got in the mail yesterday from my awesome mom!
She's made quilted tote bags for my sister and my sister-in-law, and a number of people she works with, but I never felt like I needed one. Then a few months ago, I started using reusable grocery bags, and I thought to myself how nice it would be to have a pretty bag for my other shopping. I've never been much of a shopper, and I'm even less of one now that the gas companies have decided to ruin us all, so one bag will cover my non-grocery needs pretty well. I just have to remember to use it! I can usually remember to grab my grocery bags, so I think I can remember to have this one on hand, too.Look at all the pockets inside! I love the fabric--I wanted something darker but still feminine. It was hard to find!
And Mom added little flower buttons on the pocket and the top that just match perfectly. That's my mom all over!
I have just a couple of pictures from the last few weeks to share. My brother's family came to visit for Mother's Day weekend. It was cold and blustery, but we went to the park anyway:
...and we took a walk along the beach. No swimming, though!
They're coming to visit again in a couple of weeks, and as hot as it's been here, I think we'll have some good beach weather for them.
Our wedding anniversary was May 23, and Todd took the day off so we could go to Elizabeth City, NC and do some antique-hunting. I printed off a list of bookstores and antique stores, but it was all quite drab and blah.
But they do have a marina:
...and some nice shady streets to walk along and look at the old houses. We don't have too many old homes here in Newport News (and they're mostly not in places where you'd want to take a stroll) so that was a treat.
I really like the last one...I love crusty old carved things. Other than the stroll, and a nice lunch at a local nursery that had a little restaurant, Elizabeth City was a bust. But it was a stunningly gorgeous day, and we had fun being together. We treated ourselves to our regular anniversary dinner at the Biergarten in Portsmouth on the way home, so it all ended well!
We were having our new mattress set delivered yesterday sometime between 8 and 10 AM, but we found a few sales that started at 7 AM, so we left bright and early and ran out to see what we could find.
We came skidding back home at about 8:05, and the delivery guys were just getting out of their truck! Whew!
Then after they left, we went back out for a couple more hours. We're yard sale addicts, I fear.Here's a couple things I found:
a small McCoy planter bowl to add to my collection:
two pairs of linen cargo pants, two pairs of capris, one pair of dress pants:
a few old books (I think I might frame the seashell pages for our bedroom):
an old birdcage--at least I think it's old:
We were planning to stop by Target or somewhere to pick up some queen-size sheets for our new bed, but I found a set at a church rummage sale for $3.00. Score!
They don't match everything exactly, but for three bucks they'll certainly do until I find the perfect new set. I think they're quite pretty, too!
Our new bed is so, so wonderful. We've been sleeping in a double bed for 16 years--the first eight years we had a very old hand-me-down from Todd's folks, then we bought a new Sealy Posturepedic in 2000, which started going south after about five years, and now we've made the move to a queen.
We've had the bed since December, when we bought our new bedroom set, but waited around to get the new mattress. So we've had the new headboard propped against the wall with the old full bed in front, and the footboard and side rails tucked up in the garage loft. Not the greatest arrangement! Now it's all put together and looks great.
(Hey, I don't even make the bed for my own husband--do you really think I'm going to make it just to impress y'all?)
I had noticed that Macy's was having a Memorial Day mattress sale last weekend, so we stopped in and lay on a few and found a Sealy with memory foam incorporated that we liked pretty well. But Todd is a shopper-arounder (sometimes annoying, but usually a good thing) and we stopped at the Original Mattress Factory the next day and found one we liked even better. Then we went to Mattress Discounters and lay on a few more Sealys with memory foam. But we ended up liking the Original Mattress Factory set the best.
Can I say a few words about the OMF? This is a chain that was founded by a guy who'd been with some mattress company for years and decided to spin off and build his own mattresses and sell them direct. This guy, Ron Trezinski, does his own commercials, and much as you might expect, they are supremely annoying. He reads his own copy in what I can only describe as a lilting monotone. It makes you want to stick skewers into your ears...especially if you have auditory hyper-sensitivity like I do. <---I made up my own name for my condition--nice, no?
OMF had stores in Columbus, so we were subjected to the commercials when we lived there, and then we moved down to Hampton Roads, VA, which also happens to be an OMF market. Nooooo! When I worked at the scrapbook store and had the radio on all day, I used to sit and fantasize about ways to kill Ron Trezinski, who was a VERY heavy advertiser on the classic rock station! And here we were about to put a fairly hefty sum of money into that man's pocket. But we lay down on this extra-firm mattress with a thin pillowtop and it just felt like heaven. Supportive, yet just the right amount of cushyness.
Ah well. Scruples just can't stand up against the promise of a good night's sleep, and I certainly did have that last night. But Ron Trezinski can still bite me.
We have a winner! Mandy, the Herbgirl of Calendula Court, was the one whose name came out of the teacup. I'm not sure that's comparable to pulling a sword out of a stone, but Mandy will let us know if any unexpected crowns come her way, I hope. Congrats, Mandy!
Thanks so much to everybody else who stopped by, and I hope you'll come back when you get a chance. I'm really looking forward to a long summer of blogging! 'Cause it'll be too hot to do anything else!
Also, if anyone knows how to put together a blog header or knows someone who can do it well, drop me a comment. I'm willing to pay, I just really want something nice. Something vintage/beachy, blues and creams. Let me know!
I made a few yard sale scores today, I'll share those later!
Last May, Kim at The Twice-Remembered Cottage set up a big blogger's giveaway, and it was a lot of fun. I'm getting in on it this year at the very last minute! The theme is "Cottage Charm," and there are 49 participating blogs so far, each and every one giving away something fun. Go here to see the list--there are so many great blogs out there to visit, and maybe you'll find some new favorites.
All you have to do is post a comment here and I'll put your name into the drawing. And you don't even need to wait that long--the drawing is tomorrow, May 31. My lovely assistant will pull a name at, oh, let's say 6 PM, to give everyone a little more time to get here.
Here's what you'll be receiving (click on the picture for an up-close view!):
--the July 2008 Romantic Homes magazine
--a sweet vintage red-and-white saucer from Syracuse China
--a "Home Sweet Home"-scented Yankee votive candle
--a packet of Flower Garden Mix seeds--this has calendula, cosmos, zinnia, delphinium, and rudbeckia in the mix, to name just a few.
--a gratitude journal from Running Rhino--this is so pretty. It closes with a velcro flap and each page has a quote and a pale green garden sketch on it, flowers, birds, etc.
--a box of Stash tea bags. I included a pomegranate/raspberry green tea in the picture--if this doesn't float your boat, you can request mango/passionfruit herbal, blueberry herbal, chai green, chai black, or decaf chai black. (I hit a sale!)
Just post a comment here, and please include your e-mail address if you don't have a blog, so I can track you down if you win!
Oh my, the flack I've been getting for letting this blog slide! Should I be flattered or should I tell my naggers to get a life? LOL.
I am the one who needs to get a life, actually. My thoughts have just dried up and my life is so dull. SO dull. I've also been wanting to make some visual changes to this blog and I can't find someone who can help me out with that. So I've been putting off posting until I can get the blog the way I want it--perfectionist? Moi???
Anyway, I have a few pictures, I have a giveaway planned, I have some other stuff lurking hopefully, and I have a new digital camera to take lots of eye candy shots, thanks to my sweet DH, so I shall return. Really. I swear!
Oh, what a gorgeous spring day we are having here. Today started out cloudy but the sun came out around lunchtime, so we've had big billowy clouds and blue skies all afternoon. Warm, but not too warm. A perfect day, though not windy enough to suit Todd. I can hear him out in the garage sanding away on something, though, so he sounds happy enough!
We've been home puttering contentedly all day. I've been working my way through the laundry, and I gave Todd a badly-needed haircut this morning. I'm so proud of how my hair-cutting skills have developed--no more side-of-the-head bald spots!
We had tuna sandwiches and salad and grapes and Girl Scout cookies for lunch, and then I headed out to work my way through the big flower bed out front.
I have been putting off dealing with this front bed since last fall. I let it get all overgrown in the late summer, and then I didn't have the desire (or the arm strength) to clean it out. I've been staring at it guiltily since New Year's, and when you figure that it's the first thing I see when I enter or leave the house, or look out the front windows...that's a lot of guilty staring!
Friday something clicked and I went out and spent about an hour working my way down the bed, pulling out all the dead plants, trimming the dead growth off the perennials, and raking out the dead leaves. That got me about a third of the way done, and I quit early so my arm wouldn't hurt too much. This afternoon I spent a couple more hours at it, and now almost everything is cleaned out and ready to grow and for new plants to be added. Now my arm and shoulder hurt!
But three-four weeks of physical therapy and home exercises have definitely strengthened the muscles, and I think gardening in small chunks will be very do-able. I had my last physical therapy visit on Friday, and I'm supposed to try to keep from reaching over my head, and keep up with the exercises, and then if it's not substantially better in a couple months, then I'll head back to the orthopedist and decide where to go from there.
Thursday night we were taking a walk around the neighborhood and spotted two paper boxes by the curb, each one filled with a giant clump of daisy plants (with a sign scribbled on a bit of cardboard that said "daisies".) So when we finished our walk, we drove back over and hauled them home. So another part of my gardening tasks involved dividing the clumps and arranging them around. I also pulled some stray tubers off the daisies that I planted last year and re-distributed them around the bed. I think this summer will be daisy-riffic, to coin a phrase. I'm so curious to see what color the freebie daisies will be! The leaves are a little different than the ones I planted last year.
I've been in a sour mood the past few days because of following some of the political stories that are going on right now, and then when I was working out in the garden, I just was so in the moment, listening to a mockingbird on the neighbor's chimney, looking at the new growth on my established plants, spotting earthworms, cleaning and tidying...it was so enjoyable. Then I came inside and opened the laptop to write this post, and the browser window was open to a news site, and seeing it made that sour feeling poke its head up again. So the solution seems pretty obvious--no more politics! At least not for a while. Spring is too pretty to pollute it with all our human garbage, don't you think?
Tomorrow I'll see if I can get some good pictures of some of the baby leaves and shoots.
So I'm downstairs this morning, tidying up the kitchen, eating a nice late breakfast, just getting ready to sit down with a cup of tea for a minute, and then I spot them out the window, coming up the street.
The Jehovah's Witnesses.
At least I assume they're Jehovah's Witnesses--three African-American ladies, nicely dressed, a couple of them pushing strollers. They were through here a couple of weeks ago and I hid then, too.
Yes, I drop what I'm doing in mid-tea sip, close the front door which is standing wide open, and pop upstairs so they can't spot me through the windows, ignoring their knocks.
I have lived in many different neighborhoods in my adult life, and never have I been subjected to as much prosetylization (is that a word? Blogger says no) as in this neighborhood. If it's not the Witnesses, it's the Mormons, and if it's not the Mormons, it's the home improvement companies. What is it about this neighborhood that makes these people think I might be even remotely open to buying their religion or their storm windows?
There's enough daylight crime in this town that I've simply stopped answering the door when I'm home alone unless someone I know is standing there. But it still feels like an invasion of privacy when they come up on my porch and can see me through my front door and windows unless I run and hide.
What's the solution? It's so irritating!
Just poking my head in to say...there's only one reason I wish I'd had kids. Not for the companionship or the joy of knowing my genes will carry on forever, or the hours of potty training, homework and driver's ed.
I wish I'd had kids so I could have named them. I have some strong opinions on weird made-up names, and I always felt that parenthood would be my chance to strike a blow for nice, normal, pretty, traditional names.
(I know my name isn't exactly traditional, but I do think it's normal and pretty. Now my parents did make up my sister's name, as far as I can tell: Jenita. I think it's pretty, too, and maybe not totally normal, but not crazy, either! And at least they didn't give it one of those semi-literate spellings that are all the rage nowadays. Today my poor sister would be named JyNee'tah or something worse.)
Anyway, I stumbled across this site the other day and it's given me such reading pleasure I thought I'd pass it along:
Baby's Named a Bad, Bad Thing
Just a little pretty I saw while I was out and about today. -->
I don't know why, but none of my violas came up this year. Unless they're buried under piles of leaves out there and I just haven't noticed. I'm afraid we killed a lot of things in our garden last year by overwatering. And what didn't get killed that way got taken out by the sun and heat. I just can't seem to get it right!
I am beat tonight, and my arm hurts...I am off to bed early with a good book. That's my favorite thing about winter nights--getting to go to bed early with a book and my down comforter!
...to my sweetie-pie, my best friend, my husband extraordinaire! You are a special guy in so many ways. I hope you know how very much you are loved by all of us who are lucky enough to have you in our lives. Smooches!
Was it Herbert Hoover that promised a chicken in every pot when he was running for President? Maybe it was Coolidge...
Anyway, maybe that's something today's candidates should get behind. Or maybe not. Because chickens are gross.
I don't cook a whole bird very often, but I just wrestled one out of its skin-tight plastic and into the crockpot. And it was soooo grooooosss! Jamming my hand down in to get the little gizzard packet (shudder) and rinsing its slippery little body off and then cramming lemons, onions and celery up its butt, and then dusting it with spices. It's like handling a dead baby. (shudder again.)
I feel bad about being ooked out by poultry, since I am merely one hop on the family tree away from people who butchered, scalded, plucked and cleaned their own poultry routinely--my mom and her parents, my dad and his parents. Seems like I'm not far away enough, genetically, to have developed the aversion so soon.
But come to think of it, my dad avoided eating chicken for years and years because he claimed he could smell the chicken yard stink even on a cooked bird, so maybe my aversion isn't that irrational.
Todd says that a dead chicken carcass is nowhere near as disgusting as a freshly killed rabbit carcass, and that when the intestines are pulled out of a dead rabbit, you can see all the little rabbit poop pellets inside them. Ulp. That sort of makes the unlaid eggs I once saw inside a freshly butchered chicken seem almost sweet and wholesome.
I know there's a lot to be said for knowing where your meat comes from, especially in light of all these tainted meat scares and nasty corporate farming practices. But there's a lot to be said for neat, cut-up bits of meat from the grocery store, too.
Anyway, we're having chicken tonight--want to come over??? There should be plenty, because I think I lost my appetite!!
My brother showed me his Facebook page while I was visiting him this past weekend, and I'm sort of convinced it might be a fun thing. I think I need more of a tutorial, though--he has all kinds of things on his profile page that I don't know how to put there.
Anyhoo, if you're on Facebook, add me to your friends list, won't you?
We had a nice Valentine's evening...the shrimp scampi and crab cakes both came out quite nicely, and then we had sugar-snap peas on the side, and chocolate-chip cookies for dessert.
The crab cake recipe is from a book called Lean Beach Cuisine that I picked up on a trip to the Outer Banks five or six years ago. The recipe called for coriander, which I didn't have on hand, so I put in a sprinkle of Old Bay instead. I made half the recipe, and that made 4 ample-sized cakes, of which we only managed to eat 1 1/2. Since even medium-quality crabmeat is pricey, it's nice to know you don't have to use a whole pound, unless you're feeding a real crowd.
Chesapeake Coconut Crab Cakes
1 pound fresh lump crabmeat
1/4 cup egg substitute or egg whites (I just tossed in a whole egg)
1/2 cup finely crushed fat-free potato chips
2 tablespoons shredded coconut, toasted
2 tablespoons finely chopped green onion
2 tablespoons light mayonnaise
1 tablespoon fresh chopped parsley
1/2 teaspoon dried coriander
Pick over the crab meat to make sure all the shell fragments have been removed. Gently combine all the ingredients in a medium bowl, and shape into 8 patties about 1/2" thick. Place crab cakes on a baking sheet sprayed with non-stick cooking spray. (I just used Reynolds Release foil, and they came right off.) Broil about 6 inches under the heat until the top browns. (This took five minutes for me.) Turn and brown the other side. (Another five minutes.) Serve immediately.
It wasn't till I started typing this in that I noticed the coconut needed to be toasted. This may have been why I couldn't taste it at all in the crab cakes! Other than that, they were good. I especially liked that you could broil them and completely remove the need for frying in oil.
I'm home today doing laundry and getting some things ready for a short trip to my brother's house tomorrow, so I have a few minutes to post some more pictures.
So in mid-December, Todd had to go do some work at the Aberdeen Proving Grounds in Maryland, and I went along so that we could leave from there to do our holiday traveling. We were in Aberdeen for five days.
Now, Aberdeen is a tiny town with not a lot to recommend it, so I spent my days about five minutes down the road at a slightly larger town called Havre de Grace.
From my one year of high school French, I assumed the town's name was pronounced "Hahv d' Grah." But knowing that we Americans usually butcher our foreign-language-named towns (Cairo, IL = "Cay-ro"; Versaillles, MO = "Ver-sayles"), I asked at the visitors center how to say the name. Sure enough, round those parts, it's pronounced "Hav-er de Grace."
And Americans wonder why the French look down their noses at us!
Lafayette himself named the town, which sits at the spot where the Susquehanna River flows into the Chesapeake Bay. The settlement grew up around the ferry service that took travelers from Virginia and Maryland up to Philadelphia and New York, which means that every Colonial and Revolutionary War bigwig came through there. He stopped in and mentioned that the spot reminded him of Le Havre in France, so when the townspeople incorporated the town several years later, they named it Havre de Grace, or "harbor of grace."
I really enjoyed exploring this little town. It reminded me so much of several other small old river towns I've known in my life--specifically, Marietta, Ohio, where I went to college, and Hannibal, Missouri, where I was born and where my dad's family still lives. A little shabby, its days of glory and importance long since past, but still clinging to its history and community.
So every day that week I would head into Havre de Grace and stroll the streets. I quickly found my daily lunch spot and my afternoon coffee spot.
This is where I sat and ate lunch every day that week. The restaurant is called MacGregor's Restaurant and Tavern, and it sits on a bluff looking over the railroad bridge across the Susquehanna. I can't begin to describe how oddly relaxing it was to sit there and watch the tiny commuter trains go back and forth over the bridge. The food was good, too. I didn't intend to eat there every single day, but there was just something about the place.
The town has a couple of used bookstores--Todd and I like to sniff out the used bookstores first thing when we go somewhere new. This one was fantastic, the Courtyard Bookshop.
It was this little nest of rooms crammed with books. Not so crammed that you couldn't browse, but the shelves were full. And I had just the best conversation with the owner, an older gentleman who's a real booklover (of course), a Vietnam veteran, a Democrat (we sniffed out each other's political leanings first thing), and just a terrifically articulate, smart gentleman.
We chatted for a while, and then I headed back into the nest of rooms, and just lost myself for a good hour and a half. When I surfaced with an armload of books to buy, it felt like I was coming up from a deep sea-dive or a very long nap. I had to try to remember where I was, what day it was, I'd been so lost in books. What a great feeling.
Here's me on a street corner:
Havre de Grace's downtown proper is about five blocks long and two blocks deep, so I came past this corner quite a few times as I tramped around over four days' time. I had this feeling that all the locals in the restaurants and coffee shops were saying, "Who's that woman in the red coat and how did she just suddenly appear here? And why am I seeing her everywhere I look?"
Because the locals all know each other quite well. Every store and shop I entered, there was a little knot of people chatting and gossiping and laughing. I've never lived in a small town, but that made me wish I did.
The town has built a wonderful boardwalk that runs from the marina to the lighthouse. Here's the spot where the river meets the bay:
This was the one sunny day we had that week, and it was so pretty by the river.
Looking back at the marina, where I was parked:
The walkway to the lighthouse:
Same spot, but looking right, toward the river:
Such a pretty, pretty day. I love that winter sunshine.
The Concord Point lighthouse is the absolute cutest thing I ever did see. I sent a postcard of it to my niece Kylie, and told her that if Santa had a lighthouse at the North Pole, this would be it, and the elves would be the lighthouse keepers.
The lighthouse is only 36 feet tall, and it was built in 1827. The man who became the first lighthouse keeper was John O'Neill, an Irish immigrant who was a hero of the War of 1812. He helped defend the town from British warships out in the bay until he was captured. His 15-year-old daughter rowed a boat out to the prisoner ship and pleaded with the captain to release her father. The captain did, and gave the daughter a gold snuffbox because he was so impressed with her bravery.
Hard to imagine this quiet little town full of booming artillery and flying cannonballs! Here are a few more pics I snapped just walking around.
I always tell myself that I'm going to start collecting pictures of those "ghost signs" on old brick buildings...they're just so neat.
So it was a relaxing way to start our holiday traveling, a real luxury to be able to take a few days and just explore. The last day, Todd was done with his work, and I was able to take him around and show him all the places I'd found, which was doubly enjoyable!
It's been fun the past couple of days, looking for red things in my daily life.
She's made quilted tote bags for my sister and my sister-in-law, and a number of people she works with, but I never felt like I needed one. Then a few months ago, I started using reusable grocery bags, and I thought to myself how nice it would be to have a pretty bag for my other shopping. I've never been much of a shopper, and I'm even less of one now that the gas companies have decided to ruin us all, so one bag will cover my non-grocery needs pretty well. I just have to remember to use it! I can usually remember to grab my grocery bags, so I think I can remember to have this one on hand, too.
A driver is stuck in a traffic jam going into downtown Chicago . Nothing is moving north or south. Suddenly a man knocks on his window.
The driver rolls down his window and asks, ‘What happened, what’s the hold up?’ “Terrorists have kidnapped President Bush and Vice President Cheney,” the man answers.
He continues, “They are asking for a $10 million ransom. Otherwise, they are going to douse them with gasoline and set them on fire. We are going from car to car, taking up a collection.”
The driver asks, “On average, how much is everyone giving?”
“About a gallon.”
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I want to laugh at this joke, but it's getting harder and harder to find the humor in our national debacle. Still, I'm in for a gallon.