If someone made a sound track of my marriage, part of it would be this sound. It sounds like all the vacations, and foreign movies, and all night-watchings, and stinky cheeses, and wine. This is the sound of tears of happiness, and it is the sound of longing. It sounds like the beach. It sounds, to me, like my marriage.
2009/08/06
Really good!
Burgerville, our local fast food place ("Fresh. Local. Sustainable."), has started offering a lot more seasonal food, 
and their idea for seasonal berries in lemonade is really, really good! So far this year, I've had strawberries in lemonade, raspberries in lemonade, and now, yesterday, blackberries in lemonade. I'm telling you, these whole berries and partially crushed berries are absolutely amazing in lemonade!
In fact, last night when I got home, there were still some blackberries in the cup, and I didn't want to waste them. I refilled the cup with my own lemonade, and drank a second serving. Yum, yum, and yum.
The other thing they started doing is to offer the Walla Walla Onion Rings in orders of one, three, and five at a time. These onion rings are huge. Last night I ordered one. One onion ring. Yummy, and not too much to eat. And how ironic -- one of the places that has helped me to eat more seasonally is a fast food joint.
and their idea for seasonal berries in lemonade is really, really good! So far this year, I've had strawberries in lemonade, raspberries in lemonade, and now, yesterday, blackberries in lemonade. I'm telling you, these whole berries and partially crushed berries are absolutely amazing in lemonade!In fact, last night when I got home, there were still some blackberries in the cup, and I didn't want to waste them. I refilled the cup with my own lemonade, and drank a second serving. Yum, yum, and yum.
The other thing they started doing is to offer the Walla Walla Onion Rings in orders of one, three, and five at a time. These onion rings are huge. Last night I ordered one. One onion ring. Yummy, and not too much to eat. And how ironic -- one of the places that has helped me to eat more seasonally is a fast food joint.
From here
Today there is a fluffy, gray, completely socked-in cloud cover in my part of the world. The air is freshened and the world looks like the latter half of summer. 
Yesterday afternoon I felt it. Fall is nearly here.
I want to go buy pencils and pens (but I already have some), and paper (yeesh! the paper I've got stashed away in drawers around here!), and I want to make charts for the kids. Only ... they aren't kids, and they have their own schedules to arrange, and the only schedule I need to see to is my own. Something stirs inside of me whenever the autumn gets near. Looks like the house will have to endure my onslaughts since there are no kids to be homeschooled. (Heaven knows the house can stand the full force of my ideas, intentions, and effort. It won't even give me that exasperated look - no matter what I do to it! I hadn't thought about that advantage until just now.)
From here, I can see the approaching school year. For the second time, that bearded young giant will leave for school. This time he'll probably take his car. In fact, this time, he'll probably drive away alone because he's all grown up. He knows his room mates, and he knows where he'll live, and he knows how and where to stand to get all his finances and classes and meals and whatever else he needs.
Beer, for one thing. (Oh, shoot. I'm crying again. Danged raw midlife emotional state. I've been doing that lately - every time I think about how eagerly the "kids" are taking up their own lives and how hard they're working at it. It makes me very happy.)
From here, I can see the lovely, long, darkening evenings, waiting for The Great Husband to come home from work. After Michaelmas (at the end of September), I light candles when he's on his way. Or, on the days when I'm at work too, I leave the crock pot full of whatever it's full of, and the dinner scents the house. I might be at school sometimes this fall. I might go in for a weekly course this quarter. I can see it from here.
Fall has always been like that for me. Outdoors, someone has left the oven door open, but the heat has been turned off. Things gradually cool down. The whole earth smells rich and ready to be enjoyed. All the activity and energy and heat of summertime has passed. In the fall, the table is set, and we all sit down to enjoy it. I can see it from here.
Yesterday afternoon I felt it. Fall is nearly here.I want to go buy pencils and pens (but I already have some), and paper (yeesh! the paper I've got stashed away in drawers around here!), and I want to make charts for the kids. Only ... they aren't kids, and they have their own schedules to arrange, and the only schedule I need to see to is my own. Something stirs inside of me whenever the autumn gets near. Looks like the house will have to endure my onslaughts since there are no kids to be homeschooled. (Heaven knows the house can stand the full force of my ideas, intentions, and effort. It won't even give me that exasperated look - no matter what I do to it! I hadn't thought about that advantage until just now.)
From here, I can see the approaching school year. For the second time, that bearded young giant will leave for school. This time he'll probably take his car. In fact, this time, he'll probably drive away alone because he's all grown up. He knows his room mates, and he knows where he'll live, and he knows how and where to stand to get all his finances and classes and meals and whatever else he needs.
Beer, for one thing. (Oh, shoot. I'm crying again. Danged raw midlife emotional state. I've been doing that lately - every time I think about how eagerly the "kids" are taking up their own lives and how hard they're working at it. It makes me very happy.)From here, I can see the lovely, long, darkening evenings, waiting for The Great Husband to come home from work. After Michaelmas (at the end of September), I light candles when he's on his way. Or, on the days when I'm at work too, I leave the crock pot full of whatever it's full of, and the dinner scents the house. I might be at school sometimes this fall. I might go in for a weekly course this quarter. I can see it from here.
Fall has always been like that for me. Outdoors, someone has left the oven door open, but the heat has been turned off. Things gradually cool down. The whole earth smells rich and ready to be enjoyed. All the activity and energy and heat of summertime has passed. In the fall, the table is set, and we all sit down to enjoy it. I can see it from here.
2009/08/05
If you want to know
If you want to know what is going on in Afghanistan, 
click on the magazine cover, and go to the article, "Flipping the Taliban: How to win in Afghanistan," by Fotini Christia and Michael Semple.
That is the message from our soldier. She says this is the article to read. And she says that it's 120 degrees outside every day. She's definitely nowhere near here.
click on the magazine cover, and go to the article, "Flipping the Taliban: How to win in Afghanistan," by Fotini Christia and Michael Semple.That is the message from our soldier. She says this is the article to read. And she says that it's 120 degrees outside every day. She's definitely nowhere near here.
2009/08/04
"What we eat shouldn’t be determined by diet dictocrats. It should be determined by history, culture, and traditional cuisines"
Go here. Read it. I, too, am a food renegade - I just found this site of renegades. Rebel, people! Rebel!It’s my belief that this collective wisdom not only represents how our bodies have adapted to getting the most nutritional content out of our food through centuries of scarcity and abundance, but that these traditional diets can be studied — ought to be studied — so that we can know how to eat. So that we can know how to live.
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