Cawl Mamgu
It's supposed to go up to 74F today, and later in the week snow. Hard to figure out what to wear on any given day, let alone make the decision about when to put the winter sweaters up. I like to do it bits at a time. "Lillehammer" isn't getting worn again this year -- it can go. Yes. And "Catherine Parr." She's going, too.
I'm pleased to learn, from one of my Welsh readers, that as we suspected, the leeks that we were supposed to put in our hats on Monday are little things, more manageable and probably tastier than the leeks we get at the Giant Eagle. Heartening news. I guess this means that we could put leeks in our hats if we had some of the wild ones. But we haven't got any, oh gee darn. (Do NOT send us any in the mail. Thank you very much.)
Sam and I finished up the Cawl Mamgu last night, and oh it was very good, and we were sorry to see it go. But while I was putting together some Irish Soda Bread (and didn't the new oven bake it up all nice and even, oh joy), I ran across the recipe for Brotchan Foltchep, and we haven't had nearly enough leeks this weeks, so I think I might make that this weekend. All leeks, all the time.
Sam'll like that; he's in favor of leeks. He's been having a good week, except for the part in which the child left his gym bag on the bus and now Sam has to go buy him some new gym shoes. The child got reprimanded at school, as since he didn't have his gym bag he couldn't participate in gym, but I think it was only a reprimand and not an actual demerit, such as the one he got that time he threw his pants at the wall (hey -- that was at gym, too -- maybe we should keep him out of gym class altogether). And then he got reprimanded at home. It was the day I teach late, and when I called for the ritual Mom Calls From Work exchange (hi, honey, how are you? I'm fine. How was school? It was great. What are you having for dinner? Pizza. Do you want to talk to Dad?), I had to both comfort the child and support my fellow Parental Unit. Difficult negotiation.
But the child is now off on the bus -- guess he's got all his stuff, for now at least -- and is ready for Show and Tell. Now this is a special Show and Tell, as his teacher has decided that her brood of second graders needs to learn Eye Contact with Large Groups, so they're all supposed to be practicing. Sam and I have been the audience several times for the child's showing of some books he made over the weekend, which he wrote and illustrated and stapled together, books in which he stars, along with his buddy Dylan, as caped crusaders saving the world from monsters through the use of books. Excellent, Young Master Ruskin!
What his buddy Dylan is going to think of this I have no idea; he hasn't seen these books yet. Perhaps he is the sort of child who would rather save the world from monsters by whacking them instead of reading to them.
But at least the child's been practicing Eye Contact.
And I'm going off to work, leaving Sam to revel in his orchid, which is doing shockingly well:
He says he saw one in Dr. Bartlett's office on "The West Wing," and that his compares favorably.
Also, he wants you to know that its name is Phalaenopsis. (Rachael, didn't I see one in the window of your new apartment?)
And the last of the Major Machine Replacements showed up in the driveway the night I drove home from late class (ooh! what a surprise, honey!) -- and Sam is reveling in that, too. It's hard to find used Subarus, at least around here, cause if you have one you don't want to let it go; it's just So Great every winter when you drive your little car all around round, past SUV's and pickup trucks stranded on the side of the icy road. So it took a while to find one, but now we've got one, and since his last car had been pretty damn annoying for some time, we're all really happy to get to sit in something else, and we're going to take it grocery shopping tomorrow and see how it does.
Here's Sam's new used car, astoundingly clean and shiny:
Life in suburbia.
We believe we've got a little reprieve now from buying Big Machines. That's enough for now. We'd like some time just to enjoy the water heater, the stove, the car, the TV, before anything else breaks.
I'm pleased to learn, from one of my Welsh readers, that as we suspected, the leeks that we were supposed to put in our hats on Monday are little things, more manageable and probably tastier than the leeks we get at the Giant Eagle. Heartening news. I guess this means that we could put leeks in our hats if we had some of the wild ones. But we haven't got any, oh gee darn. (Do NOT send us any in the mail. Thank you very much.)
Sam and I finished up the Cawl Mamgu last night, and oh it was very good, and we were sorry to see it go. But while I was putting together some Irish Soda Bread (and didn't the new oven bake it up all nice and even, oh joy), I ran across the recipe for Brotchan Foltchep, and we haven't had nearly enough leeks this weeks, so I think I might make that this weekend. All leeks, all the time.
Sam'll like that; he's in favor of leeks. He's been having a good week, except for the part in which the child left his gym bag on the bus and now Sam has to go buy him some new gym shoes. The child got reprimanded at school, as since he didn't have his gym bag he couldn't participate in gym, but I think it was only a reprimand and not an actual demerit, such as the one he got that time he threw his pants at the wall (hey -- that was at gym, too -- maybe we should keep him out of gym class altogether). And then he got reprimanded at home. It was the day I teach late, and when I called for the ritual Mom Calls From Work exchange (hi, honey, how are you? I'm fine. How was school? It was great. What are you having for dinner? Pizza. Do you want to talk to Dad?), I had to both comfort the child and support my fellow Parental Unit. Difficult negotiation.
But the child is now off on the bus -- guess he's got all his stuff, for now at least -- and is ready for Show and Tell. Now this is a special Show and Tell, as his teacher has decided that her brood of second graders needs to learn Eye Contact with Large Groups, so they're all supposed to be practicing. Sam and I have been the audience several times for the child's showing of some books he made over the weekend, which he wrote and illustrated and stapled together, books in which he stars, along with his buddy Dylan, as caped crusaders saving the world from monsters through the use of books. Excellent, Young Master Ruskin!
What his buddy Dylan is going to think of this I have no idea; he hasn't seen these books yet. Perhaps he is the sort of child who would rather save the world from monsters by whacking them instead of reading to them.
But at least the child's been practicing Eye Contact.
And I'm going off to work, leaving Sam to revel in his orchid, which is doing shockingly well:
He says he saw one in Dr. Bartlett's office on "The West Wing," and that his compares favorably.
Also, he wants you to know that its name is Phalaenopsis. (Rachael, didn't I see one in the window of your new apartment?)
And the last of the Major Machine Replacements showed up in the driveway the night I drove home from late class (ooh! what a surprise, honey!) -- and Sam is reveling in that, too. It's hard to find used Subarus, at least around here, cause if you have one you don't want to let it go; it's just So Great every winter when you drive your little car all around round, past SUV's and pickup trucks stranded on the side of the icy road. So it took a while to find one, but now we've got one, and since his last car had been pretty damn annoying for some time, we're all really happy to get to sit in something else, and we're going to take it grocery shopping tomorrow and see how it does.
Here's Sam's new used car, astoundingly clean and shiny:
Life in suburbia.
We believe we've got a little reprieve now from buying Big Machines. That's enough for now. We'd like some time just to enjoy the water heater, the stove, the car, the TV, before anything else breaks.
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