First day, pepper-plum punchout!

Ah me, the day has come. The kids were bouncing off the walls with excitement this morning and asked, quite seriously, if we could leave the house almost a full hour before we were supposed to. Shockingly we were not the first family at school, but we were on the early side which made for a relaxing drop off and an avoidance of the lengthy queue that had formed not long after we arrived. Everyone seemed happy and excited, and I know I'll hear great reviews at pick-up. www.em-i-lis.com

After the gym, I hurried home to make a jam recipe I've been thinking about. I love pepper jelly, but I also really loved a Mexican plum jam I made last summer, so I wanted to combine the two ideas into one: the spice of the former with the ease of the latter.

I candied some habañero slivers and flame-roasted a jalapeño. Then I tossed together some chopped plums, a chopped peach, some sugar and a couple tablespoons of the habañero syrup, the now peeled and diced jalapeño, some toasted and freshly ground coriander and lastly, some of those candied habañeros. This stuff kicks ass! Yee-ha! I love it!

www.em-i-lis.com

www.em-i-lis.com

The end is here

Readers, it is with utter joy that I tell you that the kids are asleep, and T and I have had celebratory compost dinner salads (I know, don't we sound positively wild?!) in honor of the last night of summer. School is here. I'm singing that both out loud and in my head with the vigor a northern northerner might declare, "Spring has sprung!" www.em-i-lis.com

The first day of school is such an exciting one. New supplies, seeing friends you've missed over the summer, meeting your teachers, checking out your classroom. The opportunities feel endless. At least, this should be the case. It's tragic how many kids go to mediocre or just plain bad schools; those that are underfunded, lacking in community, poorly led and weakly taught. But I digress: that's another story for another time.

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My boys are so lucky to attend such an excellent school. For them, the opportunities really are endless, and so although I am off-my-head excited about them returning because I'm kinda sick of them being home all day every day and we ALL need to get back to normalcy and routines, I'm also full of enthusiastic anticipation about all they'll learn and discover this year.

In so many ways, I was a late bloomer. Though always a good student, I didn't learn to really learn until the second half of college. My large public high school was a decidedly average one: a few great teachers but for the most part, I came away with a strong ability to memorize (which will only get you so far, which is not terribly far), solid writing skills (thank you, Mrs. Wyche) and a serious inability to truly synthesize and analyze information. As such, learning, as opposed to grades, didn't much excite me until I got it. When I started studying religion (I majored in Religious Studies, minored in Euro History), I realized how thrilling an intellectual pursuit could be. It is one of my most serious regrets that I didn't find all this out until nearly two years through Northwestern. What wasted time and chances, though really, the extreme partying I did freshman year was a real rite of passage for me too. It had to be done, and damn if I didn't do it like any good Type-A goal-oriented gal would. A+ for me.

The kids are getting all this much earlier I think. Their curiosity and imaginations seem to know no bounds, and so they suck the marrow from school pretty much every day. I attribute a lot of this to their having been blessed with amazing teachers who praise curiosity, who teach them how to seek and discover, who show them how much fun learning is. I have been inspired to be a better parent more times than I can count by their teachers and know how lucky I am to be able to say that.

I always cringe when people come up to the boys and say, "aren't you glad school's almost out for the year?" or "you must be so sad that summer's over and you're heading back to school." Neither thought has ever crossed their minds, and I hate to think of such inklings being introduced. They love school because it is fun. It's exciting. They have tons of recess and play time but also huge amounts of real, active, hands-on, engaged learning.

And so I will bring them tomorrow, walk each sweetie in, and almost dance away after goodbyes, not only because it's seriously time but also because wow, school rocks!

 

Last night's fajitas, the 100 year flood...from my closet

Y'all, I am sore as get out today. My upper back feels like a finely delineated landscape of stiffly tender peaks and mesas. I think it was the spontaneous till-and-toss through the compost pile I jumped into yesterday when I found my pitchfork. I've neglected my pit, and roots had taken hold and spread, deep in the pile, tethering it firmly to the earth below. I dislodged about four pounds of roots, picked out and discarded the identifying labels -"94025" Hass, for example; (I'm always too lazy to peel them off out the outset)- that had come unstuck from now decaying avocado skins, orange peels and so forth, and tidied up the border around the whole thing. It felt extremely productive, but then I went to the gym, and now I'm just tight, like a board. T made the greatest marinade for the chicken last night, and our fajitas were scrumptious. Lime, arbol chiles, freshly ground cumin, salt, a dash of soy...Perfect. I'd also bought some extremely cool red-yellow corn so made a salad with that. After a lovely dinner, I actually read about 50% of the Sunday paper which was positively dreamy and then called it a day.

www.em-i-lis.com

www.em-i-lis.com

www.em-i-lis.com

This morning I awoke with a burr in my butt to clean my closet, an onerous, 100 years kind of task that I've put off for oh, about a year now. 20% of the way in, I was psyched. Now 50% done, I'm dragging and have managed to clear but eight square inches on my bed. I'm wedged and perched in that little spot, looking with some dismay at the flood of hangers and clothing still to be rehung or tossed.

Know what? School starts tomorrow- officially less than 24 hours from now. Who's excited? This girl!! And the boys too! Oliver is primarily excited about his new backpack which is kinda funny, and Jack about being a 2nd grader.

2nd grade seems very big and grown up to me. I remember 2nd grade clearly. Ms. Gay Aday was my teacher (it always killed me that her name rhymed), there were two "mean girls" in my class, Janie Hays and I loved to play kiss chase with Charles Fenet (who we called Chopsticks Fenooty even though we had big crushes on him) at recess, and I still hadn't cut my hair like Mary Lou Retton (a horrible decision I'd make in 3rd grade). As Jack has already cut his own hair, perhaps we can cross that experience from the list.

Funny aside, when J cut his hair earlier this summer, I suggested that it looked vaguely serial killer'ish. Though it didn't occur to me then, of course he didn't know (thank god) what a serial killer was. He later told my mom that "Mom is so silly because she said I looked like a cereal killer. Like I kill Raisin Bran or Puffins. HAH!" Isn't that priceless?! I've never corrected him.