You Can Call Me Gwen

Please Come

I've got a big pile of Inchies to share with you very soon, but meanwhile I thought I'd show you what I got to work on just as soon as I returned to earth after my vacation.

I took a few photos of the project along the way.

Know what these are?

 

 

Well, these go with them.

 

 

Can you see it now?

 

 

 

"Help!" 

"We're blind!"

 

 

"Thanks. That's better"

So pale, though.

 

 

"Gee, thanks again."

 

 
  
 
 

"Now what?"

Cut some paper.

 

 

And write a little rhyme or two.

 

 

Put it all together...

 

 

Now do that thirty-two more times.

 

 

 

Put them in envelopes so Blackheart can carry them to all of Baby Girl's friends.

And get ready to celebrate. 

"Lucy, you have some 'splaining to do."

It all started when my Beeg Seester sold her very large-big-huge house to a cash buyer who, for some strange reason, put a reserve on her whiteboard calendar.

Seester sold much of her furniture, packed most of what was left into the Pod storage, and wrote the moving date on the white board.

But, "moving day" next Friday became "new moving day" two weeks later, and then a simple "?" two weeks after that.

The buyer's money was tangled up, and Seester and Bro were drawn into weeks and weeks of waiting.

They began writing, "no", "nope", "nada", "ain't gonna happen", and other such telling comments on the calendar days which were passing by.

And when it became clear that there was no firm date at all, they decided to put their house back on the market.

Showing the house with a big whiteboard full of nopes and nadas would never do, but Seester and Bro had put their lives on hold, and they knew a big blank calendar would not do either.

So Seester decided to invent a life.

She paused.

She reflected.

"What do people who have exciting lives have on their calendars?", she thought.

She filled in the whiteboard.

 

 

 

 

She took flying lessons, sang solos at church, attended and hosted dinner parties, played tennis, had an art show, ran a marathon, and had friends in from France.

She told us what a great exercise it had been to invent a whole life for them.

"That sounds like a lot of fun", I said.

"You could write down all the things you really want to do and get a feeling for how your life could be", I said.

"You could even draw the Inchies", she said.

"You could call them Finchies or Phinchies", the Prince said, "for fake and phony Inchies".

"I should make up a whole week of Finchies and stories", I said.

"I could make up stories about things I actually plan to try some day, and draw the Finchies to go with them", I said.

So I did.

I made up a whole, wild week of fun for myself.

Then I packed up the car and started off on my actual wild week - camping and hiking in the Colorado Rocky Mountain National Park.

But I should have taken the keyboard, or Gwen, with me.

She posted every one of those Finchies as 'Gwinchies', and she published every one of those tall tales as though they were true stories.

Oh! I could tell just how much fun she'd had when I got home and saw that big smirk on her face.

But there are rules.

And I made her apologize to all those Dear Readers who'd believed every word she'd said.

Those Dear Sweet Readers whose trust she had betrayed.

She won't be allowed to use the computer for a week.

I'm sorry.

But she's been bad.

Sunday Shoes - "The Hiker"

I wore these shoes last Sunday, but I couldn't post a picture at the time.

I was high.

 

 

8, 160 feet high, to be exact.

I was camping in the Colorado Rocky Mountains.

It was awesome.

Life in the Fast Lanes - Gwinchie #8

 

When she was a young girl, Naomi spent a lot of time roller skating.

As often as they could, she and her sisters would spend Saturday afternoon at the roller-skating rink; skating until they raised blisters on the sides of their feet from making the turns.

They raced in the the organized races on those Saturday afternoon.

Naomi could never go faster than her Seester (of Blue Bar of Happiness fame), but she was fast.

And she loved it.

So, when her young friend, Seska, joined a roller derby team a while back, Naomi was all kinds of interested in hearing about it.

She imagined herself out there tearing up the track with the rest of the Victory Dolls.

I mean, she imagined it, and she imagined it, and she kept on imagining it.

Well, I know Seska.

And Seska is a doll, Victory and otherwise.

Seska and I arranged for Naomi to join the group for practice and get it out of her system.

 

 

 

Naomi isn't fast anymore.

But, man, she had fun.

 

"Mooooo" - Gwinchie #7

 

She gets some strange stuff stuck in her head, that Naomi.

She got cow-tipping stuck in her head the first time she ever heard about it.

Fortunately for her, I am here to get the things that are stuck in her head out and about.

And, fortunately for me, her son, Creative Genius, set the curve for 'bizarre things to have stuck in your head', so he was totally into helping me out on this one today.

Now, there is a lot of diverse information about cow tipping out there, including some controversy as to whether it's easy, difficult, or even possible.

I'm going to let you decide how Naomi and Creative Genius fared, by giving you this information:

- Full-grown cows weigh upward of 1,100 pounds.
- Cows sleep lying down, have a keen sense of hearing and smell, and are rather skittish.
- Naomi's work-outs focus on large-muscle groups - her biceps are, um, not extremely toned.
- The Creative Genius is hilarious.
- It's hard to exert effort and laugh at the same time.

 

They laughed until milk came out of their noses. 

And the cows were jealous.

Forever. But not forever. - Gwinchie #6

 

Guess what Naomi did today?

Come on, guess.

Give up?

Okay, I'll tell you.

She got a tattoo.

I know.

I was shocked too.

And then I found out it was only an airbrush tattoo.

 

 

Still, it's pretty impressive.

Jesse got one to match.

And they're acting just like a couple of kids having their first crush.

It's ridiculous.

I'm glad their shoots aren't here to see it.

Geronimo! - Gwinchie #5

For many months now, Naomi has been saving what she calls her 'Amazing Money'.

It is (was) a giant wad of one-dollar bills.

I am not granted permission to tell you why it's called 'Amazing Money', but I can tell you that it's intended purpose was to fund an amazing adventure when the wad was large enough to foot the bill.

Naomi is funny about adventure, though.

She wants it.

But she's scared of it.

But she really wants it.

But she's really scared of it.

That wad was big enough.

Her resolve wasn't.

But that's why I'm driving this week.

And I drove Naomi (with her big wad of one-dollar bills) and The Cable Guy right on over to the airport today.

I watcjed them suit up.

I watched them get into the plane and fly away.

I watched them jump.

 

 

And I watched them land.

Then I heard her say...

"That was amazing."

Big Deal - Gwinchie #5

Naomi's artist friends have been telling her (over and over again) that her little Inchie journal should be made into a book when the year is over, and that the book should be published.

Naomi is a detail girl.

She has a hard time imagining big things.

And publishing a book would be a really big deal.

But I like really big deals.

So I made one today.

 

 

And she signed on the dotted line.

Not Alone in Iz's World - Gwinchie #3

 

When one of Naomi's neighbors was getting ready for a scale-down move several years ago, he gave Prince Charming a portable stereo which he no longer wanted.

Included with the stereo was a CD by Iz Kamakawiwo'ole, titled "Alone in Iz World".

Naomi heard it.

And she was a goner.

She played that CD in her studio day and night.

She learned to sing in Hawaiian without knowing what the words meant.

She drove her shoots crazy.

And she fell in love with the ukelele.

It only has four strings.

She wanted to learn to play.

"Surely, Naomi. Surely you are not afraid of four little strings?"

Oh, but yes.

Naomi is afraid of everything.

"Here. I will help you get over that."

 

 

Or else.

Short Mountain - Gwinchie #2

Well, we made it.

Naomi has been wanting to take up hiking for a long while now, and I'm tired of hearing her whine about the lack of 'real' mountains in Oklahoma (spoiled-up Californian!).

She bought a pair of hiking boots a few weeks ago, which she's been 'saving' for her big Colorado vacation.

I say, "You've got the boots. Let's break 'em in."

Let me tell you something about what makes a mountain of any size feel like a 'real' mountain.

You just climb it during a sweltering hot Oklahoma August afternoon.

Now, the first part of this (very short) trail is actually a bit of a climb any time of year, but it leads to a great view of the lake, and a ten foot waterfall, in just under two miles.

We appreciate the fact that the trail leading as far as the waterfall has been cleared and restored by the fine young citizens of Scout Troup #452 (and it's not their fault about that third narrow bridge).

On a hot day, you really appreciate the fact that they improved the trail all the way to the water.

But...

 

I had to restrain Naomi when we got there.

She was pretty darn hot.

And I think she was going to jump.

Hold on to your hats! - Gwinchie #1

I've been nagging and nagging Naomi for years to let me sit in the driver's seat for one whole week and just see if she doesn't have a lot more fun.

When she said she was starting to consider it, I started making the very-most-bestest and funnest plans I could.

A week for Naomi to live free...unfettered by cameras, computers, projects, deadlines, and her ridiculous 'rules.

Oh, the week I planned!

Want to come along for the ride?

 

Buckle up tight!

Three Days in August

 

I got a little bit behind in my Inchie posting again, didn't I?

Let's catch up, shall we?

-------

Wednesday I had to do something(s) extremely-very-most unpleasant.

I had to kiss Miss Mary Mack goodbye and let her go back to school.

(They just insist on doing that every August.)

And I had to go to the m..m..ma..maaaa...mall.

I do not like the mall.

I do not like it, Sam I Am.

I do not like it in a box.

I do not like it with a fox.

Not in the rain.

Not on a train.

I do not like the mall.

At all.

But I represented my trip to the mall on the day's Inchie because I survived it.

 

 

And I survived it because I had a friend.

-------

Thursday I dried a bunch of apples in preparation for that upcoming camping trip.

Our food dehydrator is a pretty groovy thing.

It makes wonderful beef jerky every year for the Shoots' Christmas stockings.

And it takes a big, huge bunch of apples...

 

...and turns them into one little baggie full of snacks for the trail.

-------

A couple of other notable things about Wednesday:

I had to take my, now juvenile, quail out to my Chicken-Raisin' Seester's place.

She's going to do a little foster care while I have my wild week.

Did I ever mention what Miss Helping Hands dubbed them (while I was patiently waiting to find out their gender)?

"Poo and Doo".

I'm thinking she's just a smidge toward the prissy side of things and didn't so much like it if she watered them before I did their daily paper change.

I think those names are going to stick no matter what I have to say, but I am going to give them some real names in case they have to sign any legal documents.

My Seester told me they are both females, so I am going to name them after two of the fine ladies in the cookbook.

Sadie and Mrs. Claggett.

Poo and Doo.

It works for me.

---

I turned in the second assignment for my online photography class...to much better reviews.

We had to turn off the automatic white balance on our cameras and take photos of a 'grouping of white things' in different types of light.

Here is the one I took under incandescent lighting, on a glass table with a wood floor underneath.

 

 

And the one I took in the sun room on a black table with just the light from the windows.

 

 

 

It was amazing to see the difference in the color of the white.

I'm really excited to be learning how to use my camera.

But I've got a long way to go.

-------

Today I mowed the lawn as early in the day as I thought I could get away with it.

Still, it was very hot.

I had just finished cleaning up when I was surprised by a visit from a dear friend.

It was wonderful to sit in the air conditioned kitchen and share a cup of tea and catch up.

 

 

What a privilege to have friends who have been with us through highs and lows for so many years that they are as comfortable as old shoes.

I hope you have some like that.

Breaking News!

 

Check out this (ca 1938) headline:

 

 

Actually, it's just the header to this recipe from a (ca 1938) newspaper food section.

 

 

It's from this great little, mostly handwritten, recipe book that my Chicken-Raisin' Seester bought at an estate auction.

 

 

Monday morning, before an allergy-asthma and pain filled day, I spent a few minutes browsing through this book (which Seester kindly let me borrow, and which I will have trouble kindly returning).

It was a lovely little bright spot in my day.

 

 

Of course, I was intrigued by the recipes found on the really well used pages.

 

 

And I learned a lot.

 

 

I always thought Charlotte Russe was just a store at the mall and....

 

 

...a Charlotte Russe foundation would just be an underthing you purchased there.

And who knew that anyone would ever need directions for these?

 

 

 

I've got plenty of them around my middle, and I got them with almost no effort, and certainly no recipe.

Now, I did appreciate the recipes for sherbet I found in this book.

I've never once thought of making my own sherbet before now.

But, now that I am thinking about it, I'll have plenty of recipes.

 

 

I mean, lots of options.

 

 

 

Also, I confess: I've never made, nor considered making, fritters in all my born days.

 

 

But when I read this recipe, I just wanted to go into the kitchen and make some right that minute.

I don't know why, and the urge is not going away, so the first cold-weather break, when the girlies are home from school, guess what I'll be serving up?

This recipe also sounded good.

 

 

But I'm telling you right now, I have absolutely no urge to make or eat...

 

 

...Prune Whip.

With or without sauce.

Good ol' Polly notwithstanding.

Reading through this book also gave me the urge to make handwritten recipe books.

Written with a good old-fashion fountain pen.

Two copies: one for Miss Helping Hands, and one for Miss Mary Mack's hired help.

Know what else I wanted to do when I read this?

I wanted to meet Mrs Hoope...

 

 

 

...and Mrs. Hildreth,...

 

 

...and Mrs. Claggett.

 

 

Not to mention Mrs. Knott, Mrs. Housel, and Sadie (who, apparently, is not yet in a state of matrimonial bliss).

 

 

 

In fact, I'd like to invite all these dear ladies over for a little dinner party.

And the menu?

Mrs. Hildreth's Fruit Salad

Lula's Rolls

Polly's Noodle Ring

Nora's Ham Loaf

Mrs. Hoope's Escalloped Egg Plant

Aunt Susan's Prune Dessert   

I wish you could be there.
 

"Goodbye, Thing, you sing too long."

Holy song books, Batman!

What a tuneful weekend!

On Saturday we moved Miss Helping Hands back to cawlidge.

It may not seem like a happy thing to draw on an Inchie, but...

    The move-in went more smoothly and quickly than ever before (Thank you, Prince Charming).

    Miss Helping Hands looked happy when we left.

    A college education is a great privilege.

    And...

 

 

 

...singing hymns with Prince Charming on the way home was heavenly.

-------

On Sunday, we had the blessing of a nice visit with our married shoots, and a few hours of caring for the Little Man.

When I keep the Little Man, I always let him play until he's quite ready to snuggle up in my lap with a cup of milk and his blanket to get ready for sleep. 

And then I sing.

And, believe me, if you heard me sing, you'd go to sleep to get away from it, too.

I usually ask him what he wants me to sing.

"Do you want me to sing Kookaburra?"

Yes.

"Jesus Loves Me?"

Yes.

"Mary Had a Little Lamb (there are six verses).

Yes.

But his new favorite is the one that has hand gestures.

He is trying to do them with me now.

 

 

 

"One little, two little, three little Indians..."

It was like high school.

I was just going to pick a single sunflower seed from the pile, to use as a model for drawing the day's Inchie.

However, sunflower seeds, like people, come in all shapes and sizes.

So I grabbed a selection.

I went up to my studio and drew the Inchie.

But when I saw all those different seeds sitting there, something else happened.

 

 

And it was like high school.

More Harvest

 

Remember Chince Prarming's sunflowers?

 

 

Today, they looked like this:

 

 

They were ready for harvest.

So.

I harvested them.

The largest one was 9" across.

It looked like this when I cut it:

 

 

After a little gentle brushing with my hand:

 

 

In a different light:

 

 

How about a profile shot?

 

 

A close up?

 

 

I find them fascinating.

Little testimonies to the God of order and provision.

I left some for His other creatures...the birds need food, too.

I took the seeds from one of them for roasting today.

 

The others are hanging in the garage to dry for a few more days.

 

 

Then they will be soaked in salt water and roasted, too.

And we will eat them, along with our dried apples, if we need a little something to keep us going on the hiking trail.

In the Colorado Rocky Mountain State Park.

When we vacation.

Where it's cool.

Like you.

Sunday Shoes - "Aloha"

 

These are the shoes I was wearing this afternoon.

 

 

 

Because when I am hot and tired, I can look down at these shoes...

 

 

 

...and imagine myself on vacation in Hawaii.

Postcrossing Arrivals

 

Last week, I recieved my first two postcards from fellow Postcrossers on the very same day.

One was from Germany.

 

 
  

The other was from Georgia, USA.

 

 

 

I like the postcards.

I like the stamps even more.

And I like the handwritten greetings most of all.

 

 
  

Well, except for maybe this:

 

They come addressed to Gwendolyn.

Peacock.

Yeppers.

That's me.  

Je Suis Trés Fatigué - 3 More Inchies

 

 

I'm.

So.

Tired.

So.

So.

Tired.

I think it's all catching up with me.

The picking, the paring, the preserving.

The family, the friends, the fun.

The heat, the humidity, the summer.

I just want to float down a lazy river.

Meanwhile, here are a few of the non-lazy-river things that have been happening in my life this week.

On Wednesday I rewarded myself for actually going to my dental appointment, staying in the chair, and not biting the dentist.

On the way home I stopped at a new (to me) thrift store to browse.

I was unimpressed with their prices, and was on my way out of the store when I spied this sweet little dress.

 

 

 

 

I rarely see clothing at a thrift store as anything but raw material waiting to be transformed into something else.

But...

We are expecting that Baby Girl.

And I do love sailor dresses.

This one was linen, in perfect condition, 9 months size, and 50% off. 

 

 

 

Sweet.

For $1.25.

Works for me.

 

-------

 

Thursday, I spent the day with Miss Helping Hands shopping for dresses, browsing at the book store, talking over the coming school year.

Thursday evening our young friend from D.C. came over to make good on his promise to make creme brulee for us.

He'd never made it before, and we'd never eaten it before, but I'd jokingly mentioned it earlier in the week and he'd decided he was going to make it happen.

He started by printing the recipe.

Then he wrote the grocery list on his arm and went off to the store.

When he returned, he grabbed my paper chain and crowned himself King of the Kitchen.

 

 

 

 

 

When he and Miss Mary Mack separated those ten eggs, it looked like too many hands and not enough bowl.

 

 

 

 

 

They got the job done, though, and Mr. Dan got the custard into the oven.

While it was baking (much, much longer than the recipe called for...but that's another story), we got to talking about my 'found grocery list' collection.

I pulled a few of them out to show him, but he quickly turned away, grabbed a knife, laid his arm on the counter, bowed his head and said, "Okay. Go ahead. Just make it quick."

 

 

 

 

He's crazy...

 

 

 

 

 

He's going to need that list of ingredients for next time.

Now, I admit to feeling a bit of trepidation when he got out the little blow torch he'd just purchased, but he kindly kept the flame aimed at the sugar and didn't start any (other) fires.

 

 

 

 

And at the end of it all, we did get to use the back of our spoons to crack! the sugar and test his first ever creme brulee.

 

 

 

It was a lot better than my photographs.

 

 

 

Yum.

 

-------

 

Friday, Miss Helping Hands and I picked up Me Darlin' Mither at 7:30 a.m. and headed out to pick peaches with my Chicken-Raisin' Seester.

I got this shot of her casting a long shadow...which looked like it was toting our box of peaches.

 

 

Last week when we picked peaches, we brought home Lorings and Cresthavens, which are both yellow-flesh peaches.

This time the Summer Pearls, which are white-flesh peaches, were ripe.

Omigersh.

They are my absolute favorite so far.

So doggone sweet.

Oh, I want you to have one!

 

 

 

Some of these were turned into peach freezer jam, which I made using this recipe, minus some of the sugar.

This was my first attempt at making freezer jam, and the first batch set up nicely and is tucked away in the deep freezer.

 

 

 

 

The second batch is also in the freezer, but it's labeled "Peach Syrup".

 

 

 

I'm sure it will be wonderful over waffles, baked pancakes, or vanilla ice cream.

 

 

 

 

The Blue Bar Diet - Gain Weight, Not Inchies

One of my incredible Seester's has, in her very large kitchen, an island/bar which is topped with gorgeous blue porcelain tile.

It is (over) ten feet long and thirty inches wide - that's a whopping 33 square feet of horizontal surface.

But, even more amazing than the sheer size of this bar, is what is sitting on, and who is sitting around it, on any given day.

If you walk into Seester's kitchen during 'normal business hours' on a typical day, you will eat (and it won't matter at all whether or not you are hungry) and you will visit with someone you didn't expect to see (and it won't matter at all whether or not you know them).

But, if you walk into her kitchen when out-of-town family is visiting...look out.

 

 

 

When I 'popped in' on Monday to say goodbye to my niece and her children, my Seester had five or six loaves of fresh, homemade bread packaged up to put into the hands of anyone who happened to stop by.

She'd put a loaf on the cutting board and set it on the bar...along with the bread knife and some butter.

She'd made a fresh peach cobbler which was also on the bar...along with a serving spoon and some little plates.

After Me Darlin' Mither, Miss Helping Hands and I were added to the eight relatives who were already there, she whipped out some graham cracker sandwiches made with cream cheese frosting..."For the kiddos, but you should try one".

"Oh, and here are some fresh cucumbers and onions in vinaigrette...if anyone wants some."

About that time, Seester's friend came in with her daughter.

And a few minutes later our Chicken Raisin' Seester arrived with fresh eggs, and she added a blackberry cobbler and some blackberry freezer jam to the bar.

Not to be outdone, my niece pulled some homemade salsa from the fridge and added it, along with a large bowl of tortilla chips, to the spread.

"Oh, here, let me make some Kool-Aid for the little ones."

"And a fresh pot of coffee for the grown-ups...the cups are right there in that pull-out."

Omigersh. It's not even meal time, and I'm not even hungry, but...

"Pour me some of that coffee, will ya?"

It'll go nicely with this bread and butter.

...unt zen vee vill take betteh fotogroffs!

 

I sent in my first five shots for my on-line photography class yesterday.

I'm hoping to learn how to get the most from my camera.

I'd like to be able to take pictures as well as it does, if you know what I mean.

Our first assignment was a 'point and shoot'; we had to take five photographs in our own yard, no editing allowed.

I sent this one in:

 

 

 

The instructor said, "This is very Zen, and I really like it".

I'm not sophisticated enough to know exactly what she meant by that.

But I am smart enough to know it's the only one of the five that she liked.

 

 

 

I think I'm going to learn a lot.
 

Grrrreeting Cards

 

 

I'm so glad I didn't add the words "on time" to my commitment to send homemade greeting cards to everyone on the family calendar this year.

I've been a little discouraged by the number of late cards I've mailed this summer, even though I keep reminding myself that the workload doubles during the summer months when fresh fruit and visitors are plentiful.

I spent quite a bit of time in my studio this afternoon finishing up the cards for August.

I did have to make one more late birthday card, but since I used a rubber stamp which I've always thought was funny, but have never used for a real purpose, I got to smile while I made it.

 

 

 

 

The inside says: "Your birthday blew right past me."

Alas, I misspelled 'whoosh'.

Sigh.

I think I am really addicted to drawing Inchies.

And I'm diggin' the ease of making greeting cards this way.

 

 

 

 

I'm glad I have so many people to love.

But if they could all have their birthdays and anniversaries during the winter months,...

... gee, that would be swell.

 

The Inchie Project 2010 - July

 

I'm No Longfellow

July! The month went by so fast,

Yet, every day held something fine, 

  And though July is now the past,  

Here's how I remember mine:   

 

 

 

 

It's been a month 'fully loaded' -  with family, friends, bountiful fruit, and creative joys.

It's been full of loving goodness.

And today I found myself sitting in the sun singing.

Perhaps you know the song.

 

Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade,
To write the love of God above,
Would drain the ocean dry.
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.

O love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure
The saints’ and angels’ song.

 

Even if you don't know the song...

I hope you know the love of God.

 

 

Fresh Watermelon Slices

Sunday was the first day of Miss Helping Hand's week of summer vacation.

She went directly from school to her part-time paying job as a receptionist and her part-time non-paying internship at the City Rescue Mission.

She did not pass GO, she did not collect $200.

And though she has a laundry list of things she must do before moving back to campus next week, we are dtermined to have some good mama/girlie time before she goes.

We started on Sunday evening by baking our traditional summertime sugar cookies.

We made a batch of pinky-red sugar cookie dough.

After it chilled, we rolled it out, cut it into circles with the biscuit cutter, and cut the circles in halves with a nice sharp knife.

 

 

 

Then we baked them just as the recipe directed.

Just as soon as we pulled them from the oven, while they were still on the baking sheets, we pressed the mini chocolate chip 'seeds' into the watermelon slices.

Here are Miss Helping Hands' helping hands, helping.

 

 

 

Miss Mary Mack was uncustomarily, er, um, rigid about seed placement right at first.

 

 

 

It still surprises me with laughter to see how differently these two approach the simplest things.

Still, they got the job done before the poor widdle rindless watermelon slices cooled down too much to hold the seeds.

 

 

 

 

Once they were cool, we made a thin green icing,...

 

 

 

 

...did the 'dip and roll',

 

 

 

...and set the cookies on a cooling rack until the excess 'rinds' dripped off and the icing set.

 

 

 

Then we paused for reflection.

 

 

 

 

 

And we decided this: Two of these little sweeties nestled alongside some vanilla ice cream in a little glass sherbet dish is just about the prettiest summer dessert you can imagine.

But if you don't have any vanilla ice cream...

 

 

 

 

...a glass of ice cold milk will do.

A Dress for Baby Girl

It was 103 degrees here in the heart of America on Saturday.

After standing in the shade for an hour, perspiring and watching my Seester show me how it's done at my first-ever estate auction, I came home to my precious, air-conditioned house and stitched up a special dress for Baby Girl.

Remember that soft cotton sheet I rescued from the Goodwill thrift store last week?

I washed and ironed it, and got out my trusty, well-used christening gown pattern.

I bought this pattern 27 years ago, when I was expecting Creative Genius.

I was expecting him to be a girl.

Oh well.

He has a lovely dress in his baby box, and we have a wonderful #3 son.

And this pattern.

I've used it many times.

In fact, I've pretty much used it up.

Naomi forced me to draft a new pattern before putting it away after it's last use.

I have to admit I was happy about that when I opened it up on Saturday.

 

And I was very happy that, after cutting out the dress, there was enough of the trimmed edge of sheet left for the bonnet.

I'm happy with my thrifty little dress.

 

 

 
 
 

And even happier to have a reason for making it.

Rescued Sheet - $2.16

Buttons - $1.75

Ribbon - $2.20

Baby Girl - Priceless.

"Seems I've seen that devil fruit since the world begun..."

 

Do any of you remember Elton John's song, "Rotten Peaches"?

I don't know why, but I've always liked that song.

And I've always liked peaches.

Not rotten ones.

And not those tasteless, hard ones you buy in the grocery store with hopes they will somehow ripen on your windowsill and be worth eating.

No, not those.

But those peaches you pick right off the tree - the ones that practically fall into your hand when you touch them, and whose juice drips down your chin and arm when you bite into them - those peaches - oh, those peaches I seriously enjoy.

Friday, a big caravan of clan, with a few extra friends thrown in for thrills, descended on a peach orchard near my Chicken Raisin' Seester's place, and we picked luscious, juicy, perfectly ripe peaches to our hearts' content.

Some of the pickers used this handy tool to get the beauties which were out of reach to us mere mortals.

.

 

 

Some were taste-testers.

 

 

 

 

Oh, okay.

I admit it.

All of us were taste-testers.

And all of the peaches passed the test.

We've been having peaches for snacks, baking peach cobbler for guests, and whipping up peach-blackberry smoothies for breakfast.

 

 

 

 

I'm telling ya.

A couple of juicy peaches, plus a cup or so of frozen blackberries (lovingly hand-picked by your seester), plus a tablespoon of orange juice concentrate and some vanilla yogurt = yummy goodness in a (stemmed!) glass to start the day.

 

 

 

And if you end the day sitting in a comfortable, air-conditioned room with your Darlin' Mither, your seesters, and several of your all-grown-up nieces...

And if you're all sharing your lists titled "25 Things I Know For Sure"...

Well...

It just doesn't get much better than that.

"I'm strong to the finish, 'cuz I eat my spinach..."

 

Aw, shucks.

I got the sweetest little gift Thursday.

Remember when I told you about my young friend in Washington, D.C., who had just begun drawing Inchies?

He's been in town visiting old friends this week, and we are numbered among them.

I haven't seen him since he was a grade-schooler, but we've been up in the studio (and in the kitchen) getting reacquainted, drawing Inchies, and drinking smoothies.

He brought me these awesome little salt & pepper shakers.

 

 

 

And, though I made poor old Popeye looked malformed, and I gave Olive a nice matronly double chin when I tried to draw them, ...

 

 

 

...I sure do like them. 

Sunday Shoes - "The Visitor"

 

 

These are the Sunday shoes of our visitor from Virginia.

 

 

 

He's nineteen.

In one month he will be in the U.S. Navy.

He's got his eyes fixed on the goal of becoming a Seal.

He draws Inchies.

He's promised to make a creme brulee for us this week, though he's never made one before.

He says, "Yes, ma'am" and "No, ma'am".

And just look at the shine on those shoes. 

It's August

 

 

 

 

 

The girlies are already making preparations to go back to college.

And we don't get to hold their hands and walk them to the bus stop anymore.

Sigh.