We like movie night in our basement ever since Mr. D snagged a screen projector for the laptop. Our "big screen" is the white wall and the popcorn is hot from the Stir Crazy Corn Popper (none of that detestable microwave stuff for us, thanks). So imagine my delight when trolling Habitat ReStore for some lumber yesterday and coming upon these: I snagged 4 old-school (literally, I learned from the man who helped me load them into the Momvan that they came from the high school I used to teach at!) auditorium seats for $20.00. Gleeful, I hauled my find back to the house where Slugger helped me carry them to the basement (making him take the steps backwards because I'm a mean BossLady like that) and voila! Movie night will never be the same.
Mr. D helpfully pointed out that we're a family of five and only have four seats now. I helpfully pointed out that I bought all the seats they had in the store and pfft, the couch counts, so there. I luff that Habitat ReStore. Except for the part where they didn't have the lumber I wanted...
And today I get to haul Bachelors #2 and #3 two hours north to pick up Bachelor #1 from camp. This is the last I saw of him:
That flash of orange is his shorts--he's headed for his cabin and counselor. I cannot wait to hear about the awesomeness of camp. I could do without 4 hours in the Momvan, however.
is under way. We broke up the journey to and from camp with a stop for lunch and then again for ice cream at two mom & pop joints along the way. At both the service was excellent, friendly and caring. A far cry from the impersonal customer service one receives at the chain places where the battle cry remains scripted, followed by "Do you want fries with that?" Again a good reminder of why I enjoy the locally owned and operated. The owners care about what they do and who they serve. Their investment is so much more than the minimum wage teenaged employee.
Our local indie bookstore, 113 years old, is going out of business. It pains me to no end. I wonder about the people who work there, who struck up relationships with the regular customers, who recommended books based on what they knew. Last night was the first of two special sales for their long-time customers. The store was packed to the gills. I kept thinking Where the hell have you people been? If you'd have been shopping here with so much enthusiasm, this store wouldn't be going out of business. NOW this place matters to you, too late. The woman working one check out line worked slowly, despite the crowd, chatting up the customers. I knew she was trying to make these last days at her job last before she ends up at a franchise somewhere selling books or whatever else to the nameless masses shopping at the strip malls all over the city limits. And downtown another storefront will grow dusty behind the For Sale or Lease sign hung in the window.
Seriously, can you think of a more All-American post title than that for July? Yesterday NPR was full of chatter about Sarah Palin. Will she run for the White House in 2012? Is she merely an overwhelmed mother who needs to rake in dinero to care for her family by going on the talk show circuit? Is it irresponsible to ditch the position the people of Alaska elected her to or is it brilliant political maneuvering? Is she the Savior of the GOP or the Great Divider? I believe I learned the answer at home when Mr. D, Republican, Capitalist, Occasional Chauvinist and Suduko Enthusiast proclaimed I'd rather see Hillary in the White House than her--Hillary's more intelligent. There ya go. Selfishly I'd like to see Sarah Palin run again in 2012 so I'd get more of this:
We have bald eagles living in a nest in the woods behind us and they've had babies! I kind of thought I saw junior eagles flying around, but sometimes a hawk can look dark depending on the shadows--Mr. D confirmed my suspicions. They fly about 10 miles one way to the river to catch their dinner and carry it back home. It seems terribly inconvenient. Mr. T will go to camp for the first time today--4 days away from home. Will he make it through without a midnight phone call begging to come home? Will he bring home everything I pack or lose half of his stuff while adventuring? Will he have the sense to wear mosquito repellent? Stay tuned... And finally, the reason y'all are really reading the 450th post of my blogging career today:
Berry Berry Pie
1 (14 oz) can Sweetened Condensed Milk 1/2 C lemon juice 2 C assorted fresh berries 1 (8 oz) container frozen non-dairy whipped topping, thawed 1 graham cracker pie crust (recipe below)
In large bowl mix sweetened condensed milk and lemon juice. Mix in berries. Fold in whipped toppiing. Spoon mixture into crust. Freeze 5 hours or until set. Let stand 30-40 minutes before serving. Garnish as desired. Store leftovers covered in freezer (though I stored ours in the fridge and it turned out just fine).
Graham cracker crust: one sleeve of graham crackers crumbled and smashed. 2/3 C melted butter. 1/2 C sugar. Mix together in a pie pan and press against sides and bottom with the back end of a fork. Bake at 350 for 8-10 minutes. Accept no substitutes, Keebler has NOTHING on a homemade crust.
Off to label all of Mr. T's belongings with my trust Sharpie!
Just to be clear: I don't cook. I don't cook well. I don't cook inspired. I don't enjoy cooking and I don't enjoy the clean up that follows cooking. I don't like to shop, therefore I don't like to shop for groceries. If I were wicked wealthy I'd hire a cook before I'd hire a housekeeper.
That said, I love to eat. I watch Diners, Drive-ins and Dives, Good Eats, and Ace of Cakes because they have more to do with eating than with food preparation.
It's a rock and a hard place--I'm lazy in the kitchen, so I'm prone to peanut butter sandwiches, crackers and yogurt before I'll whip up something delicious. I'll starve my taste buds out of laziness. Making something to eat is such a chore that eating becomes a chore.
But last night?
Last night I overcame and served up a wonderful meal. We had friends over for fireworks, swimming and grilling--Mr. D prepared a pork tenderloin that tasted moist and smokey and ... actually, Mr. D cooked the meat, so let's give him credit there. I contributed my Famous Cornbread (sweet and a little crisp on top, buttery and warm), fruit salad (yeah, the fruit does all the work, I can take no credit--but the tartness of the grapes perfectly balanced the sweetness of the blueberries), green salad (again, the veg does all the work, I only chop and slice, but the salad was crisp and light and crunchy) and Berry Berry Pie with raspberries straight out of the patch.
I ate seconds of everything except the pie. Before I sound too virtuous, you should know that I wanted to drink another Fat Squirrel Ale and there wasn't room for both.
It's not often that every single thing on the table tastes fantastic. Usually one or two dishes stand out, the rest are passable. Last night was one for the books.
The fireworks were pretty good, too.
Oh, go vote for my poetry here. (Sheesh, I feel ashamed asking people to vote--now it'll be about how popular I am, not how great my appliance poetry is...)
Normally every night sounds like a war zone for the 2 weeks surrounding the Fourth when you live out in the country. Illegal imported fireworks abound--and every redneck worth his coon hound is blasting them off in their back yards. Mr. D is no exception. He fancies himself a pyrotechnic and actually puts on quite a show every year. From the comfort of her back yard Green Girl can watch a show on par with most town displays--and she doen't have to fight the crowds or park two miles up the road or use portapotties.
But it's the dang neighbors--for miles around--blasting off their explosives for two solid weeks that makes her private fireworks show a dubious blessing. Until this year. Is it because the Fourth falls on a weekend? Because the weather has been unseasonably chilly? Because local law enforcement has cracked down? Whatever the reason, she's thankful this year for the Freedom From 1:00 A.M. Fireworks Festivals this year. She has enjoyed sleeping uninterrupted through the nights leading up to this weekend. Hopefully all of Green Girl's match-and-gunpowder happy neighbors express their patriotism together on Saturday like the calendar says they should. She wouldn't mind looking at a brightly lit sky in every direction Saturday night. That would make even a curmudgeonly skeptic like Green Girl feel a little national pride swelling deep in her soul. Although nothing gets her red, white and blue juices flowing as much as re-reading The Declaration of Independence every year.
* One of my dearest friends just got engaged (Congratulations, Kara! Ben's a lucky guy!) * Had coffee with a "teen poet" who is an absolutely lovely gal--reminded me how much I miss teaching, and inspires me to seriously explore an idea I've been kicking around since spring. * Walked around the trails last night and while lingering by the prairie (in bloom!) I met a baby skunk--we both backed away v-e-r-y slowly... * Found one of our missing library books in one of the boys' hideouts. (Team Testosterone has more hideouts than all the Marvel and D.C. villains combined.) * Mr. D's cousin & wife were supposed to be our house guests last night. They called at 6:30 to tell us they changed their mind and weren't coming. Ummm...dinner was waiting and their bed was made--I'd even picked a bouquet of flowers for their room. On a happy note dinner was ready and the upstairs bathroom finally got cleaned. * After sleeping in his own bed for a MONTH without showing up next to mine, Mr. G woke me up at 3:00 to ask if he could "sleep in the sleeping bag next to your bed, Mom." At least he's not asking to get in bed with me. That's a debate I can do without in the middle of the night. * Mr. G is fixated with the loose skin on the back of my left elbow. He'll pick at it with his fingers and can I tell you how weird that feels? * He also tried to give up his training wheels yesterday. Voluntarily. After only being on a "big boy bike" since May. * We're ordering his birthday cake today. He wants all the superheroes and bad guys on his cake--and Ben Ten (10?). Mrs. Landreman has her work cut out this time...
About a month ago Apathy Lounge wrote about this being her summer of One New Thing. "how easy it is to do the same thing over and over...day after day. Life unfolds with a certain amount of rhythm and regularity, even if you happen to be an impulsive person who enjoys an occasional last-minute getaway. You still take your clothes to the same dry cleaners and--most of the time--take the most direct way home after a long day of work. After a bit it's easy to become resigned to staying home (because it's easier) and renting a movie, rather than braving the crowds downtown." (Now go--click--read her whole post.) She vowed to do One New Thing to remedy the routine that has taken over her life. This post really spoke to me--I've become so narrow in scope, too. I cluster my few errands around my kids' karate classes, I hunker down and go through the motions and expectations of our schedule and make NO effort to expand myself beyond necessity...and our calendar. One New Thing. I'm doing it--with a specific focus. The boys have plenty of Activity--karate, baseball, soccer, swimming and a recent obsession with playing Around The World in our driveway. We're participating in the public library's summer reading program and having Summer School at our kitchen table so the academic is aptly covered. What's lacking? Culture. We're incorporating One New Thing this way: every other week we'll go to a concert, museum or play. We'll support our local arts community by Making the Effort to see their work. We'll make the collective effort to see an exhibit or sit through a city band's free concert at the park. Something we don't do, something that will make our lives richer and more interesting. One New Thing. Who's in?
The Reigning Queen of Team Testosterone lives on 60 acres of fields, prairie, woods and gardens. Her duties include: mothering/carting around her three bachelors, writing, PTA president, church volunteer, watering and planting, and housewivery ...not necessarily in that order.
I snagged 4 old-school (literally, I learned from the man who helped me load them into the Momvan that they came from the high school I used to teach at!) auditorium seats for $20.00. Gleeful, I hauled my find back to the house where Slugger helped me carry them to the basement (making him take the steps backwards because I'm a mean BossLady like that) and voila! Movie night will never be the same. 
That flash of orange is his shorts--he's headed for his cabin and counselor. I cannot wait to hear about the awesomeness of camp. I could do without 4 hours in the Momvan, however.
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