Tomato and Olympic gold

People, having a sunny yard is such a win when you're an ever-hopeful gardener! I dare say I've had a mostly green thumb this summer, an accomplishment I attribute primarily to sun and soil amendments. Daily, my jackpot is a thrill.

The boys spent the night at a friend's house on Friday, and I realized their absence would be a good time to use up all remaining small-breed tomatoes as were starting to feel snowballed. 

A low and slow roast with some olive oil, garlic and thyme fit even the bill of a sweltering day, and with marinated sheep/goat cheese and toasted baguette, well, suffice it to say, that we feasted. 

The next day I made some celery leaf aioli for some chicken salad, and my T served this gorgeous, accidental-art latte to me. The Olympics continue to thrill (Phelps, Ledecky, Bolt?!?!?!), Christoph Waltz is a commercial delight, and the kids return to camp tomorrow. 

Watch this for a smile, and a bit more love if you're already a Waltz fan. 

Ludicrous Wednesdays

Wednesdays have become the most outrageous day, and not in a good way (although I did manage a lunch date with a bestie today). They are so run-raggedy that Thursdays have defaulted into necessary mental health days. You know, the times you call in sick from work when you're not really sick or clear your schedule just because you literally cannot even feign interest in one more activity or to-do. And so tomorrow is such for me, and I am seriously looking forward to it. I will read the newspaper, I will not answer any calls from CVS, and I will finish unpacking from Richmond. We got home at 6:15 tonight, and the boys still needed dinner, bath and the bedtime routine. I urged them to snarf dinner like mannerless heathens, raced them through shoddy baths, read one joint story, Snoring Beauty, and then I bid them sayonara before going to sit catatonically with Nutmeg and online shop for god knows what until returning to some sort of stasis. At this point, Jack came downstairs (when did "bedtime" become like a yellow traffic light instead of red?) needing a yellow marker to color in the bubble lettered-Pokemon title he'd drawn on a Pokemon notebook he was making and also a brown to complete something else.

I accommodated these requests and certainly agreed when he then asked if he could do a page in his reading comprehension workbook (smart kid buys time in ways he knows I'll agree to); you have never seen a child write such lengthy and complete answers. I did not agree to a second dinner or his "real need" to "look something up on Amazon." I can't tell y'all how much rogue shit Tom and I found in our Amazon cart on a weekly basis. Reason 408 why I will never share passwords with the children! Can you imagine what would start arriving at our door?

Ultimately, I took a cue from my friend Randy, who regularly and very kindly beseeches me to take a load off, and decided we'd have salad and leftover gumbo for dinner. Because it's been more than a week, I also had to make a plum tart. Duh!

www.em-i-lis.com

www.em-i-lis.com

Lest y'all think my crush on Benedict has waned, it has not. It has been on the back burner as of crazy late, but I have colored in my coloring book and I do still gaze upon this picture on occasion. Know you've missed it too (except C and Mom; I know he mos def does NOT do it for you. We can still be friends.)

Benedict Cumberbatch