On our way home

We're at the airport, and it's good to be heading home. I am feeling inordinately grateful that instead of last year's seven hour schlep home in the car, we have a brief 80 minute flight into National. A massive treat to be sure! I am eager to get to the market and back into my kitchen. I did a fair bit of cooking this week but want to start summertime canning and try some recipes from Paul Virant's book.

The kids start camp on Monday, and for the first time in seven years, I'll have six hours a day just for me. Do you know that I feel positively wild with excitement about this?

Here I am

I'm sitting on a front porch, comfy on a royal blue rocking bench, feet propped up on the white-washed railing. It is an absolutely perfect evening: a crescent moon hangs languidly in a clear, ever-deepening night-blue sky; the sunset was magnificent and though the fiery orb has said bon soir, an incredible residual rainbow remains. A gentle breeze whispers across my skin and ushers the trees' leaves to and fro, one child scooters in the street below, another sings a song from The Little Mermaid at the top of her voice and to thunderous applause. The channel over which I look is glassy smooth, and humidity dares not intrude upon this flawless eve. T is rocking next to me, reading the news. The boys are fast asleep, bone-tired after a busy beach day. sunset

Despite itself, this family vacation has been just that in a number of ways. Cousins, waves, grandparents, sand, playgrounds and more relaxed rules regarding video game-playing have joined forces to avert a number of the issues my little crew is often beset by during stretches of unscheduled time. I've read a chapter or so of one book and started in on a new one. I took a nap today! We've played lots of games (Candy Land is not as cool as I remember!), done lots of puzzles, drawn silly pictures, made light sabers from colored straws and scotch tape. No dog begged for a walk, no cat nipped my nose before the dawn. In the harried way that even is relaxation when energetic young children are around, I still feel that I got away, stepped off the hamster wheel that is often life at home.

Oliver

The sky is dark now, the sunset rainbow has faded to a dramatically shyer version of its former self, the breeze has slowed. Only the Cheshire moon remains as a constant. And isn't that just the way life is! Some things spin, others stop, some drag interminably, others race by entirely too quickly, some fade without notice. What's hard is remembering to grasp hold of the good stuff, while letting the lesser bits trickle through your hands like sand. Here's to bringing some of this home with us.

Jack and me

But just in case, camp starts Monday! Wink, wink.

Morning o' cooking

The boys and I went on a mission this morning: coffee for me; swim noodles with which to make birthday party light sabers (gotta battle safely); a cake pan in which to cook a chocolate birthday torta for my mother-in-law. Ultimately, we succeeded on all fronts though were initially delayed by the five Starbucks employees actively working, yet equally actively as not, behind the counter who seemed unable to manage the one man in line in front of us, thus making us wait a good 4-5 minutes before even placing our order. This was fully baffling to me, and even Jack asked, "what's taking them so long?!" In any case, I got what I needed, we bought green, blue and gold noodles for the light sabers, and this beautiful cake is now chilling in the fridge.

chocolate cake with chocolate-sour cream frosting and raspberries

I also made some roast carrots, pizza dough, caramelized onions and homemade pizza sauce. It was just too hot (94!) for another day at the beach. Then again, the AC went kaput here and it was probably too hot to be cooking over a gas stove and a roaring Wolf oven, but I'm intrepid in the kitch!