Our First Full Day

Jack’s first full day of school proved very productive for me…

Finished up a huge project on the computer, made a batch of frosted ginger creams that I’ve been jonesing for, put up a few jars of peach freezer jam, and made a new pasta dish*.

By winter break I’m going to gain about 35 pounds.

Today I’ll tackle the laundry instead.

Jack, for his part, had his first “Gym Class!” and learned how to do “Jumping Jacks”– all in all a great day for a little man.

 

*Store-bought three cheese tortellini with my sauce: sauteed garlic and sage from our garden in olive oil and butter… with pine-nuts thrown in for texture. Yay me. It was delicious.

Simple gifts

Little joys pop up.

In the comfort of a plate of starchy, salty Hamburger Helper. In the promise of boulangerie meringues from France this week. In the warm tomatoes from the pots on our deck.

In Jack’s sticky little hands wrapped around my neck and his whispered, “Mommy! I like you!”

In the sudden appearance of Keegan who brought a Sam’s Club pretzel and a nap.

Strawberry jello.

The second half of the BBC Sense & Sensibility.

Texts from Susan.

Sleep. Tylenol with codeine.

Jack’s bunny cup. It has a bunny popo on it. It makes us laugh.

Laughing.

We’ll take it.

You say Tomato…

The tomatoes are in the garden. There are heavy branches of them with dozens of green tomatoes… in a few days I’ll be up to my ears in them… As much as I hate summer (and I do. It’s hot. It’s sticky.) I really love the weeks where the tomatoes and beans are coming in. All winter and spring we endure dreadful tomatoes with only the memory of what they should taste like… and then! Pow! they’re back in all their explosive-flavor glory.

A few tomatoes have made an early entrance. They’re sassy these Early Girls– they flaunt their bright red jackets in the faces of their still-green neighbors. They’re fat girls. They have round shoulders and they make the vines sag.

My Granny had put in a request for a summer tomato. It came to me through my Aunt Becky who passed the plea along to my mother who turned it over to me. Granny lives in an assisted-living studio apartment. It’s a nice place– the halls are carpeted and there are antique prints and pieces of china decorating halls and nooks. The “girls” that work there are friendly and kind to us when we visit. (We assume that they are friendly and kind to our Granny, too– and not viciously beating her when our backs are turned like an episode of CSI.) They have delicious smelling meals made in a little kitchen off the dining area– we’ve all eaten there with Granny for a meal or two and while the food is simple it’s good.

Still– there are gaps in the menu. Tomatoes, with all their acidity, aren’t generally served. Cooked ones are. But the raw tomatoes tend to be the icky, whitish ones that you get at the grocery store. Granny’s been jonesing for a dripping, red summer tomato.

So, the other day, Jack and I popped in with farmer’s market bread, a jar of mayo, and a couple of fresh off our vine ‘maters. We spoiled Granny’s supper appetite completely and picnicked in her room with thick slices of bread and tomatoes squishing out in between. I brought her a glass bottled coke, too– it’s what you should wash down a tomato sandwich with…

This week I won’t grumble at the weeding. This years gardening efforts are worth it now.