Photo Break

I went back to work this week after an all-too-brief break. For reasons that have yet to be explained to my satisfaction (but most likely come down to money) I am now responsible for simultaneously planning and teaching two separate classes. In the same room. With 40 students. It is, quite simply, insane. The only reason I figure they can get away with it is that I don't get paid for prep time anyway, so who cares if the work is doubled?

Each night this week I swore I was going to come home, make myself a nice margarita, and lose myself in some Bollywood. The reality? I collapsed in a quivering heap in my bed. This term is going to be intense. And that's all I want to say about that right now.

So...how about a nice photo break? Because I didn't absolutely have to do anything this morning, I took the camera and spent some time poking around in my shamefully overgrown yard. Despite my shocking neglect, things are going quite well, especially with the herbs, greens, young tomatoes, and ruby-sweet strawberries.

Our first baby zucchini are already ripe. Isn't it early? I can't tell, but I am happy to have them.

The best part? I wasn't alone. I had some company only too happy to pose for me.

Miss Chutki:

and the recently named Romeo who seems to have adopted us for good:
He looks just a bit mean and shifty here, but he's actually a total sweetheart.

I'm planning on a couple of relaxing days of sewing, some knitting, a little yard work, and hopefully pulling my husband over to my side in The Great Freezer Debate. I think we need an extra to hold all our summer bounty but he's not yet convinced.

I hope you have a relaxing weekend full of good things!

19

Nineteen years is an awfully long time, isn't it?

And yet, it seems like yesterday that we got married. Time flies when you're having fun.

Not that it's fun all the time. Not that there's always time for fun. But even when it isn't fun, it's always good, being married to this guy.

I don't say it often enough, but I think I must be the luckiest woman ever.

To The Spouse: Thanks for sticking by me through thick and thin, crazy and sane.

To everyone else: if you want to see a picture of our youthful, shiny-eyed selves on our wedding day, here you go.

Back from the Woods

After all that carrying on about The Great Camping Trip, it turns out we were at Silver Falls State Park for all of 36 hours. The forest was beautiful, the weather was lovely, the cabin was charming (futon mattresses excepted--those were torturous), and the families with whom we went were all delightful. We ate well, and managed to not be consumed ourselve--hooray for Swyflotter--this stuff rocks!We had a lovely walk beneath the south falls where I was kicking myself for forgetting my camera. Duh!

Image via Wikipedia

The whole experience was better than I could have imagined but for one sore point. The Dark Lord was not at all happy to be there and there's nothing worse than an unhappy teen. There was no one his age on this expedition and he had to pass on invitations from friends to accompany us. While I really wished he had taken a more positive outlook to this outing, I could understand, to some degree, his displeasure. Late on the second day he began a steady nag about going home early and we finally acquiesced. I was actually disappointed to be leaving early but the up side was that The Spouse had a free vacation day at home which we fully enjoyed. We had lunch at Pambiche and a stroll through Powell's where I augmented my cheese making library with this book. Definitely more my style of vacation but I enjoyed my brief time in the forest, too.

The Princess and The Piano

In addition to being Monkey Boy's birthday, yesterday was also recital day for The Princess. A kind friend of ours took the following video in which my daughter plays a lullaby accompanied be her teacher on the other piano and our friend Elizabeth on cello at the end of the recital.



The recital was a really lovely event especially compared to others I've attended. Tovah is one of the very youngest students so it was exciting to see what all the other kids could do after a little more time with Miss Gaye. All of them played beautifully and quite of a few of them composed the pieces they played. The Princess enjoyed herself, and it was a successfull evening all around.

14!

My boy was up bright and early to begin celebrating his 14th birthday. I love that as he gets older he maintains his silliness. The T-shirt was my gift and the fez came from friends. I think it suits him.

The Great Thing About Being a Pessimist...

...is that I am rarely disappointed and often even pleasantly surprised.

After arguing with one teen most of the day about this trip (yes, you ARE coming because you are part of this family) and dropping a small fortune on provisions at Trader Joe's, I am totally open to the idea of pleasant surprises.

Thanks everyone for your encouragement. To those sharing this outing with us: I promise to keep my kvetching inside the cabin.

To The Woods

I do my best to provide my children with numerous enriching opportunities so they will grow up well rounded and full of happy memories. My great failing as a parent, as I've been told more than once, is that I have steadfastly refused to take my children camping. I can't really come up with another family activity whose mere suggestion fills me with greater dread other than something like attending a football game. Or hunting.

I have never had much interest in camping. I think the woods are fine and natural areas should absolutely be preserved and protected--ideally by humans, especially myself, staying out of them. Given a choice between a tall tree and a good book, the book will always win. My idea of nature is my garden, ideally when the blueberries are ripe. Extended treks through the woods are not appealing. The thought of slithering into a sleeping bag and trying to sleep with my family in a claustrophobic nylon tent surrounded by marauding raccoons fills me with absolute horror. My heart sinks upon consideration of meals prepared over an open fire and in fact, I hate the stink of woodsmoke.

I think it's because we camped as kids and while we had a great time, my stepmom never did. The rest of us hiked and swam and skipped through the trees while she stayed behind, washing dishes in tepid water and trying to cobble together meals before everything in the cooler went bad. She always seemed so relieved when we packed up and headed for home.

I've always been able to easily bow out of camping invitations made by more seasoned veterans who think a camping trip is a perfectly reasonable way to spend a weekend. Last year we used the impending bar mitzvah as an excuse but I can only get away with that so many times. Usually I can claim, quite honestly, that we just don't have the equipment. Well this time the lovely folks in our homeschool co-op found a place with rustic cabins so we could come along. My kids insist it isn't even camping anyway so I am not sure what I am getting so worked up about. But the thought of planning and shopping and packing and cooking and then being out in the middle of nowhere for three days is completely overwhelming to me . I'm just no suited to it. Other people pull these things off without a second thought and have a great time while I am, quite simply, out of my element and certain I'll be a harried wreck.

But I agreed. The kids are looking forward to it and the other families are lovely people. I'm kind of mortified by how incompetent I feel but hopefully I've dumped enough negativity here that I can put on a brave face and make this little outing a success. Maybe I'll be writing next week about how silly I was and start regularly heading off to REI to hang out with all the outdoorsy types and start buying performance fabrics and high tech gear. But I kind of doubt it.

At least I picked up a good book to take along, just in case.

Passion

If there is one thing I love it's people who are passionate about whatever funky thing they're passionate about. Seriously--it just puts a smile on my face.

We've been making serious efforts to buy more locally raised food. We've joined a CSA for our veggies, but still rely on the grocery store for eggs and milk. I thought surely I could do better, especially given that Portland is such a hive of urban chicken culture. I recently got busy with a little internet research and came up with local sources for both eggs and goat's milk which I am now using for making cheese and I got to meet some interesting folks this week.

Paul lives in deep southeast Portland and has turned his little plot of land into quite the chicken operation and he was happy to describe everything in great detail. He has a variety of pastures in various states of readiness for the chickens. They get to run in one area while others are regrowing the greens they eat. There are grand old fruit trees arching over the various chicken runs and a couple of huge white dogs running around and keeping an eye on things. The place was a bit a ramshackle but I loved seeing how chickens could be humanely raised for serious egg production in the city. Now that piano lessons are over, we won't have too much cause to drive that far, but when I do find myself out that way, I'll make sure to give a call and see if eggs are available.

Ed has a small but remarkably productive goat dairy in NE Portland. He has four lovely adult females, a couple of darling kids, and a lame male goat who gets to hang around just because. Only three of "the girls" are being milked right now (because the fourth is pregnant with triplets) and he's averaging 5 gallons a day! The goats all seemed so happy--the picture of contentment, really. Along with my 2 gallons of very affordable goat milk, Ed shared all kinds of cheesemaking resources with me and, best of all, gave me samples of a tangy, creamy chevre and a lovey nutty cheese which had been pressed and aged. Highly motivating to this beginning cheesenmaker, let me tell you.

Both of these men were very different. Things felt a little chaotic with the egg guy and almost too perfect with the goat guy. But both of them were visibly passionate about their animals and eager to share their copious knowledge. I found myself grinning from ear to ear after each of these visits, delighted that there are enthusiastic micro farmers in my city.