The Women's Foundation & Two Boys in Robes

You might remember my post from last October, the one in which I waxed rhapsodic about the luncheon I'd attended in support of the Washington Area Women's Foundation (WAWF). It is such an effective organization and it was such an inspiring event that despite the fact that I am not comfortable soliciting anything, I eagerly agreed to join the host committee for this year's Leadership Luncheon.

The WAWF is a tremendous anti-poverty organization dedicated to women and girls in the DC/MD/VA area. Since 1998, it has awarded nearly $11 million in grants to more than 170 community-based organizations in the DC area and helped women increase their assets and income by more than $45 million. In addition to economic empowerment, the WAWF emphasizes education (for all ages), workforce development, philanthropy, and multigenerational programming.

I know there are many great causes, organizations, and individuals to support, but I ask you to consider making a donation to the Women's Foundation. The Leadership Luncheon is our largest fundraiser of the year, and contributions of any size are incredibly appreciated and will be used to directly impact women and children most in need.

It's hard for me even to advertise my own classes. But I believe so deeply in the mission and efficacy of this organization that I ask you now to support it. You may do so by clicking here. Thank you!

Should darling faces of happy young boys beguile you, please observe these precious (if I say so myself) pics of my boys from today. Perhaps you, too, are a cross stitcher? (I taught Jack today, and he loves it).

After trips to both the dentist and orthodontist, massively on-sale fedoras and robes were hard to say no to. Because naturally we all need such items in our lives. For the love. 

All the thoughts on a Friday, which has now turned into Saturday

My youngest darling was the burp contest champion at camp this week. He can do, what he calls, "constant burp," and it's pretty impressive if you appreciate that sort of thing. 

I came across and bought this manly tomato today, just after having a really wonderful, fulfilling lunch with a relatively new but total gem of a friend. 

Those two things are not remotely related except that she responded to this picture in this way: "Yes! I love it when I find lewd veggies! This is a fine specimen!" She's a keeper.

I really do feel so terribly rich with friends. Last weekend I was lucky to get to host my online writing group for our first in-person retreat. We've been writing together for a few months now, though several of us have done so before. Ah, the interwebs. But, not all of us had met each other in real life prior to everyone's arrival on Saturday. 

We needn't have worried. It was one of the easiest 48 hours ever and included spending enormous amounts of time in pajamas eating, watching Roger win Wimbledon, leaving the house after more than a day to eat a delicious meal at Ghibellina, and enjoying a last morning together at Politics and Prose (although the customer service in the cafe was staggeringly terrible. Ex: "I'd like that chocolate croissant." With a sneer she replied, "That's not chocolate." My friend: "May I ask what it is?" Reply: "Yes." WTF?!?!) It did not include any writing. Hah!

Champion of champions!

The boys returned to Calleva on Monday, and despite the horrific heat wave DC has been steaming in for the past week, they had, as always, a fabulous time. It's such a great camp. They are so filthy at pickup every single day that I send them directly to showers when we get home, no delays. You should see the seats of my car; they've been tinted by their bums this week, the aftermath of literally lolling about in nature, on shore and in the river.

We resumed our 2Amys Monday for pizza and meatballs and sitting in the front window tradition. We've been going there regularly, sometimes weekly, for eleven years, but 2Amys Monday is a Calleva-specific ritual. That's a long time to have a place in your life, and I love that. One of the managers, Darlene, has been there the whole time. She has seen the kids grow up, and we have watched with delight as her commitment to pink winds through hair, nails, outfits, and so on. 

The heat and humidity this week have been tough, even for me and my Louisiana blood. Temps have topped 100 most every day with not a cloud or drop of rain in sight. We have had thunder though; one clap broke a neighbor's glass patio table. And today, Saturday, I'm watching as dark gray clouds roll in like a storm surge from nowhere. The trees keep blowing to near horizontal positions before returning to an eerie stillness. 

Because of the oppressive sultriness, it has felt near impossible to cook. Everyone is basking in cold, raw opportunity: salad, chilled soup, crostini with lots of cheese. I managed to grill pizza one night, and inexplicably (beyond my desperate need to use up a ton of rhubarb) I made some jam. Today, because our tomatoes are going nuts, I passed the black krims through my food mill to make the base for gazpacho and then had the opportunity to use up all my bell peppers, green onion bulbs, and cucumbers.

pain de campagne, burrata, tomatoes, basil, and great olive oil

Not pretty but very delicious gazpacho

A few days ago I went to Politics and Prose (again) to hear Angela J. Davis in conversation with three of the contributors, Roger Fairfax, Kristin Henning, and Renee McDonald Hutchins, to her new book of essays, Policing the Black Man. Each essay constitutes a different perspective on the racism pervading America's criminal justice system: how black boys and young men are stereotyped and treated by police; implicit bias; various legal viewpoints; the history, present, and possible future of our justice system; and so forth. It was a terrific event, and I look forward to reading the book.

Angela J. Davis and her newest book

In other book news, I'm about 2/3 of the way done with Quiet Until the Thaw, and I must say that while there are some beautiful phrases and passages full of wisdom, I am disappointed. I have zero idea why Fuller decided to fictionalize this story. It puts her, as a non-Native American, in the voice of one. I'm not surprised by the flak she's taking from native writers, not least because the style in which she's chosen to write often feels glib. It too frequently feels like a poorly rendered stereotypical description of Indians and reservations- names, headdresses, alcohol abuse... There is a better way to respectfully treat Native American traditions and people in literature although I sincerely believe she has a profound respect for them. Which is why this is disappointing. I wish she'd just written of the months she spent on the Lakota reservation, from her perspective. 

Ok, the rain has passed. God did we need it. Perhaps we'll actually be able to cook something for dinner. Dessert at least. 

Last Em-i-lis class of the summer: register now!

My last Canning 101 class of the summer will be held on Saturday, August 19, from 10am - noon. Just four spaces remain, so register now for what is always a wonderfully fun, educational two hours.