lady cordelia

how we spend our days

This is how we spend our days. We hang around. Keep house. Write letters to fairies (they write back, by the way.) In my opinion, life is just too damn short to rush into any other world There will be plenty of time (too much time) for the loss of innocence. My dream is with enough of this living (this sweetness, this clarity) this living wonder will prevail & sail them through the rest of it (no matter what.)

beach haiku

dolphins in our view little mermaids play on land oh, treasure of life!

our outing (etc …)

Yesterday B. had to do a quick business errand.  So, we joined.  I had promised C. a trip to a cupcakery in the area, since she's a 4-year-old  "foodie" evidently -thanks to Alton Brown and other Food Network stars. She especially likes the shows that involve cupcakes or cakes.  So, we rode 45 minutes in the car and accomplished the errand.  Then, Cupcakes. It wasn't really all that simple, though.  And if you think it was, you don't have small children.  And if I pretend it wasn't, I'll look like one of those impeccable moms.  And I don't ever want to give you the wrong picture about me. There was a lot of whining, a few stops for food and quite a bit more whining.   We drive 45 minutes to my parents all the time without any issues whatsoever.  But, for some reason, today was not like that.  After the food stops, of course B. is late for his appointment.  This makes B. irritable.  Which makes me irritable.  Which makes the children even more irritable.  Either we're "all connected" or we're all co-dependent.  Whatever it is, it was a god-damn long 45 minutes.  But, such is the life with the precious little monsters we call our children.  (They have moods too, evidently!  Who knew?)

The cupcakes were not what any of us hoped.  C. said they were too sweet!  (Perhaps because she isn't overly familiar with full-blown white sugar.) B. said they lacked professionalism and gourmet-ness.  Nothing in the center of them.  No outrageous flavors.  No real creativity.  Also, it was 105 degrees out.  They melted in our hands. We were happy to get home.  It had cooled down.  C and O decided to make cards for their Nana's upcoming 70th birthday.  Please notice the table!  I bought this last week off Craigslist for $22 dollars.  It needed to be wire-brushed and re-painted.  It replaced our $8 table from a few months ago.  Moving UP in the world!

This Moment

{this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, wonderful moment. A moment that expresses a special feeling, time, or place. If you’re inspired to do the same, leave a link to your ‘moment’ in the comments for others.  (A tradition inspired by Amanda Blake Soule)

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exit the cook

I thought I prepped adequately, I felt the timing would all fall together.  It fell alright.

The menu was an onion and potato frittata with, of course, our own fresh eggs.  Also, a curried carrot soup and a side of  lightly-steamed chard (also home grown). The soup turned out pretty well.  But I should have tackled it earlier in the day and simply warmed it before serving.  As it was, I had to call on B. to finish blending the soup while I was up to my ass in overcooked frittata.  I didn't have the right pan to cook it in.  This I found out as I was about to put it on the stove.  This is like cooking 101, right?   The wrong type of pan?  Come on. B.  slowly looked around as he entered the kitchen.  No counter space.  Everything thrown everywhere.  Egg shells hanging from the lighting fixtures.   Soup splattered all over me, the stove, the counters and somehow the dogs are tracking it on the floor with their paws. Foods up.  Forgot to set the table.  I push a huge heap of crap (little shoes, small underwear, various toys) off to the end of the large dining table and somehow wedge the plates in place.  I plop down the eggish excuse for a fritatta on the plates.  B. ladles the soup.  The uncooked chard smirks at me from the counter. As soon as I open my mouth for first bite,  C. says" Mama, I have some good news and some bad news."  Great, I say.   "The good news is the soup is a really pretty color....the bad news is I don't like the soup." Kids food ended up mostly on the floor.  We made them another dinner. After we've eaten, my kind husband grades me a "B" average on the whole cooking attempt.  "A little harder than it looks, isn't it?"  he says, gently.  I nod and continue to clean soup off my shirt.   He knows my pride just got it's little butt kicked.  This is why I married the man. Any other husband would have gotten a lawyer by this point.  Or suggested cooking lessons.  My husband has not only cooked for me all these years, he's an easy grader.  At least where I am concerned. As for me?  I'm soldiering on, man.  I'm gonna be a solid cook.  I am not afraid.

enter the cook

Today I did something that only one with a decent night's sleep can accomplish:  I cleaned out all of the kitchen cabinets and drawers.  Ok, I cleaned out most of them.  How much can one mother do before the morning coffee wears off?  Plus, I cleaned the junk space.  This is big.  You know this space, don't you?   The space in which everything with no place to call home gets thrown: keys, spare change, broken bracelets (read: 100 scattered beads), random notes, cookbooks, kids art, cell phones, gymnastics schedules, rubber bands.  Maybe your junk space holds other crap.  (Or maybe you don't have a junk space.  In which case you can't come to my birthday party.)

But, let's face it, you do have a junk space and it's an ugly mess.   And when it's cleaned there is an undeniable sense of relief.  Not a loud, screaming relief as if you have just found out a tumour is benign.  Rather, it's a mild relief.  Like a too-tight pair of underwear being kicked off.

So, I am cleansing my kitchen.  And why? Because  I want to transition into cooking.  Real cooking.  As in meals for my family.  Not a co-dependent wife who needs her cooking-savvy man to cook.  Nope.   And so, in order to really motivate, I must have our kitchen functional & attractive. The other day I told B. we should be making our own hummus since we love it so much. (Actually it was his idea. But do such details matter?)  We soaked the beans the night before. We pulled out the Cuisinart.   It takes a little planning.  It takes a clean kitchen. Clean kitchen, clean mind.  Clean mind, clean chance.  A chance I will now go into the kitchen and actually make the recipe I picked out for tonight before B. does.  I can hear him pulling out the pans.  That's my cue! Ah, and now he's just come in to tell me...."Sweetie...You needed to buy 2 full chicken breasts, not one cut in half. Didn't you really look at the recipe?" Really look at the recipe?  Eh, boy.

Inspiration 102

Oh My.  I really should not go onto Amazon.com when I'm feeling inspired.   I seriously put about 15 books into my basket.  And almost checked out.  Then I thought, hmmm.  I'll overdraft our checking for sure at this particular moment in time.  And so I simply minimized the screen thinking that maybe tomorrow I'd have a few extra hundred bucks to spend on books. I know what you're thinking.  I should have just decided on an affordable few books.  Purchased those few now, the rest later.  Problem is, I'm kind of an all or nothing sort of gal.  I try not to be, as I know it can be hard for those around me.  And that is why second -hand & thrift store shopping is much safer for me (and those around me.)

Today was just more of the same.  Re-working the space I have (instead of dreaming about space I don't have.)   I'm the kind of gal who doesn't sew with a measuring tape, and likewise, doesn't lay bricks evenly.  Things take me longer because, as I recently mentioned, I learn by doing.  Usually.  And not by listening.  You know that saying: "measure twice, cut once?"  I'm more like "don't measure, screw it up, and hope it looks beautiful anyway."

Here is the start of a potted succulent garden.

Then, what will be another small veggie garden when it's time to plant again.  It took me at least a good year to see that this is the spot with most direct sun.  (Also, a landscaper friend pointed it out.)   I laid the uneven bricks around it all by myself! (And, since you had to notice, yes, it's shaded now because there is an umbrella over it.  What, you think I'd let my children burn up in the dirt?  I can see what kind of mother you think I am.)

I love old bricks.  Sigh.

Maybe I'll take a picture of the full "side yard" tomorrow.   It has come a LONG way- a lot of work has been done in the past year or so.  Maybe I can even dig up a "before" picture. We'll see.

Now, a glass of wine.

inspiration 101

This morning was my morning to get up early with the girls.  One of the pluses of being a self-employeed family is that no one leaves for work at the same time every morning.   There are minuses to being self-employeed too.  But, not as far as the children are concerned.  They get to be with either myself or B. almost every moment of these itsy-bitsy formative years. Anyway, back to this morning.  I figured we had not endeavoured (is that a word?) in a traditional paper and glue art project in some time.   So, we cut, pasted, spilled glue, whined a little, and talked about chickens.  (Chickens are always a very good conversation piece around here.  We really love chickens.) We spent some time questioning why they might like to eat purple sunflower seeds.   And there are a lot of reasons.  Far too many too list here. Sometimes I wake up so inspired to do things. Various art projects, sewing, gardening, organzing.  Even cooking or baking delicious things.  But sometimes, the inspiration is gone before I can get my hands on anything.  So, question is: do I grit through and make those cupcakes even though I'm no longer truly inspired? I know this all has something to do with energy; a fluidness that is within.   When things get in the way- a mild cold for instance, or a less than satisfactory nights sleep- inspiration suffers. And therein lies a personal definition of depression: when beautiful life-fueled inspiration has been replaced by the feeling of "should" do.  (I really should do an art project with the girls this morning.)    Without inspiration, what will carry us safely though spilled glue and the whines? Perhaps inspiration is simply a mind-set. A mind-set.  Trust.  Perseverance.  Remembering: when I do go fo it, I'm always much happier in the end.

~this moment~

{this moment} - This marks a new Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple yet extraordinary moment. A moment to pause, savor and remember.  If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for others.  (A tradition inspired by Amanda Blake Soule)

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post #41

And it is with Post #41 that I share some photos of Chloe's quilt that I just finished.  I had my mom do the last of the binding stitching last night when we were visiting.  I figured a little of Nana's love would seal it up well.  Also, I had messed up on a corner and she would fix it as well as it could be fixed. Again.  I use no measurement tools thus,I measure nothing.  I had no idea how to make corners, I figured it out (or not) as I sewed along. I'm not sure if I do things this way because I like to take chances, or because I have never been too good at learning by listening.  I learn much better by doing.  Or maybe it's that I just tend to get too restless when someone is trying to teach me how to do something.  Who knows why we all do the things we do.  Who cares? Bottom line is, the quilt turned out pretty cute (just don't look too close.  Ok?)