It's a been a hot, hot, hot, busy, busy, busy week around these parts. I'm just going to let the pictures speak their thousands of words and show you what we've been up to.



Refinishing the girls' play table and chairs. Here they are, the result of all the work I did out in our boiling hot back yard. Aren't they pretty, all shiny and new-looking? About two hours after this Evie got some purple crayons and colored on them. (One-year-olds are SO much fun!) You can read all of my fabulous furniture-fixing tips in the D-H on Sunday.














Next up, we've got a family wedding, birthday parties for Beth, and our yearly camping trip. When I look at the calendar for the rest of the month, I have a feeling I'm going to be letting my camera do the talking for awhile. If you're looking for indepth discourse on subjects of importance...well, you're going to have to keep waiting.

We're on summer vacation.

It's 100 degree Fahrenheit outside, and 80 degrees in my living room, and probably slightly hotter than that where I sit and type here in my office. That means it is too hot for a post of any length or depth. Instead, a few random thoughts:

News: My baby is walking! Not more than 5 or 6 steps, but she's definitely realizing that she was designed to be a bipedal creature, and that walking *might* eventually be quicker and more efficient than crawling.

Coolest fast-food kids' meal prize ever? The current offering at Wendy's: full-length audiobooks of several Magic Treehouse books. The girls love "The Magic Treehouse" and they are enchanted that now we can listen to them in the car, too. I've been twice in the last several weeks so that I could get more than one different CD. Way to go, Wendy's!


We're planning on taking the kids to River Rhythms this Thursday. It's the first time we've gone as a family. Fellow Albanyites: Tips on kids at the concert? Best places to sit (aka where people won't be bothered if our kids are antsy and dancy and wiggly)? How early should we get there? And--very important for parents of a recently-potty-trained child to know: do they have bathrooms at Monteith Park?

That's it. All you get from me today. I am off in search of ice tea, or ice water, or perhaps a cup of ice, just plain ice. Oregonians are not hot-weather people.

A summer poem for you today, by Emily Dickinson; a poet I enjoy even though I often feel that she's really too deep for me.



122

A something in a summer’s Day
As slow her flambeaux burn away
Which solemnizes me.

A something in a summer’s noon —
A depth — an Azure — a perfume —
Transcending ecstasy.

And still within a summer’s night
A something so transporting bright
I clap my hands to see —

Then veil my too inspecting face
Lets such a subtle — shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me —

The wizard fingers never rest —
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes it narrow bed —

Still rears the East her amber Flag —
Guides still the sun along the Crag
His Caravan of Red —

So looking on — the night — the morn
Conclude the wonder gay —
And I meet, coming thro’ the dews
Another summer’s Day!

by Emily Dickinson

We were sitting quietly together one evening when Eric looked at me, smiled, and said, "Your hair looks nice."

Instantly I was all a-flutter. Eric is not a guy who frequently voices opinions on my hair. In general, he a) is glad that I have hair; and b) thinks it looks better short than long. Other than that, he thinks I should do whatever I feel like with it and doesn't say too much about it. This out-of-the-blue compliment was thrilling.

But I couldn't just thank him and let it go. Not me. I need DETAILS.

"Really? What about it looks nice?" I asked.

If I had asked this question of another woman, she probably could have told me in detail that she liked the current length, or the current color, or the texture, or the way the ends were flipping in or out, or any one of a multitude of other variables that contributed to her positive assessment of my hair.

But this was my husband.

"Ummm...the way it looks? On your head?" he offered.

"Just that? Is it the length, or the way I had it kind of forward over my ears, or the way my bangs are?"

"I don't know! It just looks nice," he said.

We both sigh. And I realize that interrogating him about the minutiae of my hairstyle is probably the best way in the world to ensure that he's not going to compliment me on my hair again anytime soon.

...when you've got rocks?



I just went outside to find all three girls sitting in the little gravel walkway around the outside edge of our house, streaked with popsicle juice and gravel dust. It's what they do pretty much every day after lunch.



I resisted getting a sandbox because I wasn't really sure I wanted to deal with the kids being covered in sand constantly. But I realize now that it doesn't matter, because they just get dirty by digging in the rocks instead.

I really don't know what is so enthralling about rocks, but my girls have always loved them. We're not talking sparkly agates or river-smooth pebbles here, people. This is just plain old backyard gravel. And yet...every time we go outside they gravitate to it. When we're out on a walk, they bring me handfuls of the stuff. "I got rocks for YOU, Mama!" they cry. I find rocks in my pocket, rocks in the dryer, rocks in the bottom of my purse.



Each of the older girls has a jar of "special" rocks that they have collected. Yesterday Beth came in from outside and counted all the gray, dusty treasures she had collected: 39. Thirty-nine little rocks that looked entirely unremarkable to me, but each one special to her.




Lucy once held up a rock and said, "It looks like a chocolate chip." And you know what? She was right. It was shaped almost exactly like a large-scale chocolate chip. A chocolate chip you could break a tooth on, but that's beside the point. I would never have even noticed that rock, much less picked it up and pondered its shape.

They love their rocks. So I smile and thank them cheerfully every time they bring me a new handful of gravel.

And then, because I am a grown-up and the magic has left my soul, I wait until they are gone and toss them back outside. More treasures for them to discover another day.

I know it's really nothing to be proud of.

I know that they grow and produce abundantly in everybody's garden.

It has absolutely zip to do with any skill on my part.

But still...I just can't help but be happy when I see this pile on my countertop.

Just two months ago they were a handful of seeds.



And now they're all grown up and producing babies of their own! Lots of them.



It's a zucchini miracle.

As soon as I saw them, I knew I had to have them.

The little green globes sat in their tiny, cute baskets at the Farmer's Market with a hand-lettered sign in front of them: "Gooseberries."

Gooseberries. I had never seen a gooseberry in my life before, much less tasted one. So what that they were $2.50 for a pint? Gooseberries! Surely a once in a lifetime opportunity. The next stall over presented another new item: red currants. I bought those too. What can I say? I walk on the wild side, buying unknown fruits like nobody's business.




At home, I presented my findings to the girls, but they were less than impressed. "Too sour," was their verdict on the gooseberries. "Yuck," was all Beth had to say about the currants.

And I must say, I kind of agreed with her on the currants. Not a super-tasty flavor, and kind of large-ish seeds for their small size.

The gooseberries, however, I thought were pretty good. They looked like a miniature green grape, but with a nearly-translucent skin. Their flavor was a tangy sweet-tart. I could see how a 4-year-old might call them sour, but I didn't think they were any more tart than a Granny Smith apple. Definitely not in the realm of rhubarb.

But not necessarily going to be my new favorite snack, either. The rest of the pint of gooseberries sat in my refrigerator for a few days...until I had a barbecue to go to today...and I decided to make some kind of a dessert out of them.

I tried my copy of Nigella Lawson's "How to be a Domestic Goddess" first--gooseberries just seem like a British kind of thing to me, so I thought a British cook might have something for them--and sure enough, Nigella had several gooseberry recipes. The one for Gooseberry Crumble sounded perfect...except that she called for a pound and a half of gooseberries, and I had just barely half a pound. Also the recipe called for elderflower cordial. Because, you know, I frequently have elderflower cordial just hanging around in my pantry. Good-bye, Nigella.

The I turned to the Internets. This Sour Cream Gooseberry Pie at Allrecipes was very highly rated. And it called for just the right amount of gooseberries. But, I don't know. A cooked sour cream and gooseberry filling? Inside a pie crust? I don't know why that weirded me out. You cook cheesecake, and I love cheesecake. Berry cheesecake, yum yum yum. But a baked sour-cream-and-gooseberry combo just didn't sound good to me. Good-bye, Internets.

In the end, I adapted a recipe from my old friend Pioneer Woman. Seriously, I don't think I've ever made a recipe from her site that wasn't yummy. And they almost always call for ingredients that I already have on hand in the cupboard. I had made her blackberry cobbler recipe before and liked it a lot, and I had a feeling it would probably translate itself well to any berry recipe.

So I gave it a go. Threw gooseberries in there instead of blackberries. And then took the results to the barbecue, just going on faith that it was going to be edible. Like I said, I live dangerously.

Here it is, ready to go in the oven. I forgot to take a picture of the finished product, so this is the closest you're going to get.



It smelled so delicious while it was cooking. If we had Smell-o-vision or something like that available on Blogger, I'd send you a link to the scent of it. It smelled good.

Now, you see that little bowl behind the gooseberry cobbler? With the reject mushy gooseberries and a bunch of little stems in it? That bowl of tiny stems is the reason I'm probably not going to be a frequent gooseberry baker. Every single tiny gooseberry had a little bit of stem still attached to either side, which I had to pull off before I could bake it. It was kind of a pain, and it took forever. Like, 10 whole minutes. It might not have been strictly necessary. Nigella, in her recipe, said "If you can be bothered, trim the gooseberries." Which leads me to believe that it's OK not to be bothered to trim the gooseberries. But I was taking it to this barbecue and the stems just didn't look that appealing. I didn't want little crunchy bits of stem in my cobbler..so I was bothered to trim the gooseberries.

But, final verdict: just plain flavor-wise, not ease-of-trimming-gooseberries-wise, I liked it very much. The cobbler dough was sweet, crisp on the outside and a little soft on the inside. The gooseberries still had their tangy flavor. One friend compared it to a strawberry-rhubarb pie--it had that hint of tartness too it. The kids still told me it was too sour. But this is what the plate looked like at the end of the evening:




Must not have been too bad.

Here is the recipe, just in case you happen to have gooseberries at a farmer's market near you and you want to give it a whirl:

Gooseberry Cobbler

About two cups of gooseberries (I had somewhat less than two cups)
1/2 cup of butter
1 1/4 cup of sugar (divided)
1 cup self-rising flour OR 1 cup all-purpose flour, 1 tsp baking powder, 1/2 tsp salt and 1/4 tsp baking soda (that's what I used, since I had no self-rising flour)
1/2 tsp vanilla
1 cup milk

Melt butter in a microwavable dish. Pour 1 cup of the sugar, and the flour (plus other dry ingredients, if you have no self-rising flour) into a mixing bowl and stir. Whisk in milk and vanilla, and mix well. Pour in melted butter and mix all together well.

Pour batter into a buttered baking dish (I used a 9-inch glass pie plate, but I think anything about that size would work). Sprinkle gooseberries over the top of the batter, distributing evenly. Sprinkle 1/4 cup sugar over the top.

Bake in a 350 oven for 1 hour, or until golden and bubbly (I baked it a little less than an hour--about 55 minutes I think). Can sprinkle an additional tablespoon or two of sugar over the cobbler 10 minutes before it's done (I did this and it was good).

1. Just finished "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo." Very good mystery story. A little on the graphic side--not blood and guts necessarily, but just descriptions of bad things that bad people do. Especially sensitive souls might want to stay away from it. But *I* liked it a lot! A very unconventional heroine.

2. Also--a nice little bonus at the back--the book contains an excerpt from the sequel ("The Girl Who Played with Fire") and it is set in Grenada! On Grand Anse beach! Dude, I've been there!

I just love it when a book or movie is set in a place that I have been. Or, when I get a chance to visit the setting of a book or movie I have loved. This may be why I loved visiting England so much--so many of my favorite books are set there.

3. Made a new recipe for carrot cake yesterday. It had a cup of crushed pineapple in it. A little different, but it worked. Made it moist and sweet. Even my husband, who inexplicably hates pineapple, liked it. Yum.

4. Evie is sitting on my lap as I write, having woken up unfortunately early from her nap. I gave her a handful of goldfish crackers to eat while I finished this post, hoping it would keep her happy, but instead she is stuffing them into my mouth one by one. This kid LOVES to feed other people. She gets the biggest kick out of it and is very insistent. I had not planned on eating a mouthful of goldfish crackers just now, but I had no choice. Evie is feeding me, and I must comply.

5. I think that we will soon have a zucchini big enough to pick. Exciting!

6. It's Friday night and Eric's not going to be home, so I'm surprising the girls with a video of "The Little Mermaid" that I got at the library earlier in the week. Beth saw it once when we rented it a couple years ago, but Lucy never has. I wonder if they will be impressed or just annoyed when they learn that I can recite most of the dialogue and sing all the words to every song in that movie? It was my sister's absolute favorite movie growing up. We watched it a lot. A. WHOLE. LOT.

7. I'm going to write a story for the paper about how to fix up garage-sale furniture and make it cute. To illustrate it, they're going to take pictures of me, re-painting old furniture I have. This is me being clever: doing a story for the paper and forcing myself to actually refinish the adorable kid-size table and chairs that I have been meaning to refinish for a really long time. Hmmm, looks like it was about two years ago that I first said I was going to re-do it. Now I actually am. We'll stretch the definition of "I'm going to do that this summer" to include "it will actually get done two years from now." Unfortunately, it seems that's just how I roll--lots of grand intentions...limited results.

More Quick Takes at Conversion Diary.

I was thinking of poems about fathers today, because we're celebrating my dad's birthday tonight. It's by the same poet as last week, but you don't mind, do you? I didn't think you would.

With Kit, Age Seven, At the Beach

We would climb the highest dune,
from there to gaze and come down:
the ocean was performing;
we contributed our climb.

Waves leapfrogged and came
straight out of the storm.
What should our gaze mean?
Kit waited for me to decide.

Standing on such a hill,
what would you tell your child?
That was an absolute vista.
Those waves raced far, and cold.

"How far could you swim, Daddy,
in such a storm?"
"As far as was needed," I said,
and as I talked, I swam.

William Stafford

I love the idea that the father is telling his child he would swim the ocean for her--cross that absolute vista--if she needed him. I think all good fathers would.

One: My favorite coffee shop is back in business! The people who own my favorite Italian restaurant purchased it and re-opened it. They seem to be creating their own foodie empire on First Avenue in downtown Albany--they already own the one really fancy restaurant in town, down on the end of First, and are opening an Asian restaurant right next door to the coffee shop. Since I've never been anything but pleased by the food I've received at one of the restaurants they own, I say: bring on the totalitarian regime of good food!

Also, Boccherini's is giving away FREE drinks today while they are training their staff. if you're in Albany, you oughta go get yourself one. You know a person is a good friend when they call you at home just to tell you about free drinks! Thanks, Heather. I guess this is my much-more-impersonal version of spreading the love. Enjoy a free vanilla iced latte, just like I did, and it will make your day that much better.



Two: I love the Takena wading pool. This is a small wading pool operated by Albany Parks and Rec in the neighborhood park closest to my house. It is just perfect for babies though kindergarten-age kids. Swanson Pool, the one time I was there, was crowded, crazy, and expensive. Takena is fun, low-key, and FREE. I heard that this is the last year for the Takena Pool--that regulations require a new chlorine and filtration system for it and it would be too expensive, or something. Say it ain't so, city of Albany!



Three: Should I let my kids stay up late to let them watch fireworks tomorrow? Because 9:30 or 10 p.m. is REALLY late for them. And that's only when the local fireworks shows start, not when they end. But I know they'd like it.

Four: I am a fan of sun tea. I never used to like tea at all, but now I'm totally into putting a pitcher of plain old Lipton's and water out in the driveway, letting it sit out all afternoon, then sweetening it and putting it in the fridge to chill. Then you have yummy sweet tea for the next couple days. I've been on a constant make-rinse-repeat cycle with my sun tea for weeks now. It's my new summer thing.

Five: I'm having a hard time coming up with seven things today.

Six: What else is good and summery in the world? I've covered iced lattes, wading pools, fourth of July, and iced tea. Oh, I know what else! Raspberries. I love raspberries, and they are ripe now. Once upon a time, I picked raspberries and got a rash and then I was afraid I might be allergic to raspberries, but thank heavens that was not the case. I love raspberries. I think I said that already. My father-in-law picked me a bucketful and gave it to me last night. They've been sitting in my fridge and I've been munching on them all day. I don't think there is anything I love more than perfectly ripe raspberries. Except maybe ripe strawberries.



Seven: Or ripe blueberries! Our little blueberry bushes are bearing their first fruit, and the girls enjoyed some yesterday.



Sweet little summertime pleasures.


More Quick Takes at Conversiondiary.com

An Afternoon In the Stacks

Closing the book, I find I have left my head
inside. It is dark in here, but the chapters open
their beautiful spaces and give a rustling sound,
words adjusting themselves to their meaning.
Long passages open at successive pages. An echo,
continuous from the title onward, hums
behind me. From in here the world looms,
a jungle redeemed by these linked sentences
carved out when an author traveled and a reader
kept the way open. When this book ends
I will pull it inside-out like a sock
and throw it back in the library. But the rumor
of it will haunt all that follows in my life.
A candleflame in Tibet leans when I move.


--by William Stafford.

Could there be a more perfect first line?
Or a more perfect description of a book that moves you?
Sometimes, you have to wonder why we even try and write anything anymore, when so many perfect things have already been written.