Beneath the Tall, Tall Oak

We mostly stayed indoors today because it was crazy-hot. Toward evening the temperature dropped enough for outside activities. I decided to tackle the spent day lilies. Only three blossoms remain and after they bloom they're done for the year.

I was about half done with that little project when Matthew took the girls around the corner to the park. When I finished, I joined them beneath a tall, tall oak. While the girls built houses and walls out of the dirt, I noticed many tiny acorns sprinkled all around.

Quite taken with them, I gathered a small handful.

Flavor of the Week

Earlier today we went to the dentist. Afterward, to reward ourselves for yet another cavity-free visit, we stopped off for some Tropical Moose.

Which is to say, snow cones, served up out of a little shack at one end of the Kirkwood Farmers Market. Star chose Pink Lemonade, Dandelion had Watermelon (but only after fuzzy peach and kiwi strawberry had already crossed her mind).

I had the Flavor of the Week, which happened to be a mash up of Raspberry-Lemon and Wedding Cake. Mostly it just tasted like sugar--which given that it was a snow cone was exactly what I was (if not they were) going for.

If you go, get a mini. Only costs a dollar and is plenty big enough.

Flight

Last week I met a mom at the park. This happens to me a lot, actually.

She and I chatted about mom stuff. Then she got stung by a bee. It was down in the clover under her feet, flitting from one clover to the next. Then, probably, she nearly stepped on it and it got scared and it stung her.

Yesterday, in the same clover field where that mom-from-last-week got stung, I saw a chubby little guy get stung on the foot too. He was tossing a ball around with a friend, but the bee sting shut that right down.

Today I saw the mom who got stung at the park again. I asked about her bee sting, and you know what? She said that not two days after the bee sting at the park the same thing happened again in her own back yard.

I've got bees in my yard too. See?

Mostly, I plain forget that these little fuzzy pollinators hurt people because I'm too busy trying to take a picture of them. But, anyway, respect the bee, people! Bee stings hurt like holy hell (and that's a quote).

Linda's Mystery

My neighbor is a fantastic gardener. She seems to know everything about plants and seeds and weeds and all-around lawn care.

But . . . she doesn't know the name of this plant.

And of course, neither do I. Do you? Until I can figure out what they're called, I've named them Linda's Mystery.

She gave me the seeds for it last fall, and here they are growing in my yard where there was nothing but weeds last year.

That's Neighborly

I found this note taped to my door early this spring. The rear license plate had been dangling from the right hand bolt back there for weeks for one very simple reason. The left hand bolt was made of plastic and had broken off. It attached from the inside and seemed impossible to remove or replace. For months the plate had stayed in place just fine because I found an ill-fitting nut and used acrylic glue to keep it stuck to the broken bolt. Problem solved . . . until it got so cold that the glue cracked.

I waited for a nice, temperate day early in the spring and glued it again. It's been fine ever since.

But it sure was nice of Linda to offer a solution. Good neighbors are one of the great things about #970.

Kraus House

Look where I went today . . .

In my neighborhood (it took us all of 10 minutes to get there - wouldn' ta taken that long but I took a wrong turn) there is an amazing Frank Loyd Wright house, which he designed in 1951 for Russell and Ruth Kraus at Ebsworth Park.

Here's the floor plan.
The Kraus's wanted a Usonian house--these were designs Wright intended to be affordable, accessible works of art for middle class people to live in. Though the Usonians were rarely affordable (this one being no exception) the Kraus House is certainly a work of art--Russell and Ruth saw to that. They insisted on following Wright's design with meticulous accuracy. If a change was thought necessary, they first had it approved in writing by Wright. Because they had no children, the Kraus House was only ever gently used and it's owners were able to leave it to the County.

The house is an excellent showcase of Wright's late aesthetic. The intersecting parallelograms in the design, the cantilevered roof, seemingly unsupported glass corners, open living space, as well as the building's horizontality and harmonious situation within the landscape are all typical of Wright's designs. Walking through that house is like walking through a pictorial summary of major developments of Wright's career.

Although Matthew and I were properly fascinated by all of this, Dandelion was not. Because she was too bored to bare it any longer, we ducked out of the brief video of the house's history so that she could run around. Here she is, playing on the steps behind the tool shed.

I was also able to persuade her to go stand by the other end of the house by the master bedroom, which she obligingly did until it began to rain.

The tour of the interior was excellent and informative. We were permitted to walk the surrounding grounds and to go into every room in the house. Our guide seemed to have a story for every nook and cranny in the place. I enjoyed every bit of it.

To see the house you have to make an appointment and it costs $10 for grown ups, half that for kids under 12. They have all kinds of events coming up. See for yourself at their site.

Carousel

In the fall, it will be three years since the girls and I took a brief trip to London. While we were there, I took this picture, riding the carousel in the London Zoo.



Since I rode with them and the carousel was in motion the background blurred nicely. I was really happy with how the picture turned out. Whenever possible, this is the way I prefer to take pictures of carousel rides. Since our kids are, well, kids, there will always be another chance. Here they are, on a much more recent carousel ride at Grant's Farm.

Pie and Serendipity

I made apple pie on the fourth of July, which means that we didn't get to actually eat apple pie until the fifth. My recipe is definitely better a day later.



And then, a day after the day after the fourth, I decided it was time to go to Serendipity, an ice creamery not far from our house. I noticed recently that Serendipity will be participating in the Art of Food event coming up this month on the 25th. We'll be out of town then, but we're not out of town now! With the thrill of the possible alive in my mind, I loaded the kids into the car.

Turns out their ice cream is wonderful, homemade, and creative. Star & Dandelion both got sprinkles on their scoops. They had Blow Pop (bubble gum flavored with crushed lollipop in it) and Cookie Monster (a fruity blue ice cream with cookie dough mixed in). Aunt Terra got chocolate peanut butter but passed on the sprinkles. As for me, Ginger caught my eye. Could it be, I thought, could it really be ginger? I asked to try some--I wasn't sure I wanted to commit to a whole scoop. But that one taste was perfect. It had all the complexity of the hot/spicy/sweet root herb that I have come to love in savory dishes. Blended with ice cream, it was nothing short of divine.

I've since learned that a lot of ice cream makers have this flavor. I didn't know, and discovering it for myself was nothing short of serendipity.

A Variation on My Aunt's Apple Pie Recipe:

Filling
3 lbs Granny Smith apples; peeled, cored, sliced
1-1.5 c sugar (depending on tartness of the apples)
1 t cinnamon

Mix all this together. Let it sit for an hour before it goes into the pie crust

Crust
3 c flour
1 t salt
3/4 c canola oil
6 T water

Preheat oven 350˚ F. Mix crust ingredients together until uniformly combined and it forms dough that can be rolled out. Add more flour or water/oil if needed to achieve the right consistency. Divide into two balls and roll out between sheets of wax paper. Transfer the first to the pie pan. (I always bake mine in a rather large round cake pan because I don't own a pie pan, believe it or not). Add the apples & all juices from the cinnamon and sugar. Cover with the second rolled-out half of the crust recipe. Make it pretty if you know how and feel like doing it, though it will taste just as good without embellishment. Place pie onto a cookie sheet and bake ~ 90 minutes (should any juices overflow, the cookie sheet will save you a horrific amount of clean up). If the top begins to brown excessively you can cover it with foil, but I never have had this happen.

Remove from oven, wait a full day, and then . . . at long last . . . enjoy.

Insiders

We have lived here for nearly two years, professing to love art all the while, and yet today was our first trip to Laumeier Sculpture Park. Our original purpose was to see if we could find the inspiration for a project Star made in Art class at school.

Find it indeed. It's enormous. How could anyone miss it?

We made our way through most of the park, which appears to ramble on forever. It's well cared for, too (a tough combination). The girls had a fun time with this one, Alpha by Beverly Pepper.

Here are Star and Dandelion on the inside.

Swim Lessons

My kids' swim lessons will conclude tomorrow. I tried to take pictures of the lessons in progress, but Dandelion wasn't really in the mood for pictures.

Here she is, poolside, waiting for the next activity.

Here's Star's group. She's the one with the teal pool-noodle.

The funny thing about these lessons is that there are far more girls enrolled than boys in all of the age/skill levels that I have observed. I wonder why this would be. It seems strange. Surely, boys need swimming skills as much as girls do, and it isn't as though boys don't like to swim . . . odd. Maybe it just came down to a scheduling conflict. Who knows.

Eat it Up

Much to our mutual consternation, Matthew has been the kids' favorite parent for as long as we have been parents. That's never been easy for either of us. Matthew is under the constant weight of their demands, whereas I becoming invisible the minute he walks through the door. Just about everyone we know has promised us that someday it will be my turn, but no. Star's six. If there was going to be a nobody-but-mommy phase it would have come by now.

For at least the past two years, Matthew has done occasional daddy-daughter dates with the girls. They love the one-on-one time with him. Invariably the date will include a restaurant and they love that too. They love it at least as much and maybe even more than the one-on-one time. . . .

Clearly, dates with daddy fall beyond Frugalein's jurisdiction. Generally her reign over our wallets goes largely uncontested and that results in infrequent restaurant outings for our kids. What a waste of money, she tells me. If I hear, "Mom, can we go to a restaurant?", Frugalein will spit out the word "No," delivered in the most knee-jerk and automatic fashion you can imagine before I've even registered the question.

Ok, so mommy doesn't know how to say yes to questions like that, but what would happen if the question was different? What if she were asked for a mommy-daughter date? Shrewd little Dandelion came up to me not long ago and asked in her nicest voice for this very thing. Because I really love you, she said.

Hmmmmm. What will I do? Do I want to be wanted so badly that I'll pretend I don't know that my kid is really just after the ice cream? Do I want happy-fun-time with my daughter (getting a treat just the two of us) so much that I'll silence Frugalein (the old killjoy) to get it?

Is anyone honestly wondering?

The picture was taken on our date to an old soda fountain shop, Dr. Jazz, where the sundaes were made to order, exactly the way we like them.

Mr. Ugly

A little while ago, Matthew and I made a date of a late evening stroll through the old-timey main street of a neighborhood not too far from our own. Everything was closed, so we were actually, literally window shopping. It reminded me of Germany and Lebanon at the same time, because we did that in both places. Not much reminds me of both places at once. Yeah, it's pretty much just babies and window shopping.

Anyway, we stopped to look in the window at Plowsharing Crafts. Like other shops nearby, their window display was attractive. I noticed, tucked in at the corners, clay pots. They were nice and big, pretty colors too, and perfect for being indoors or out. And since Frugalein must be satisfied about this kind of thing, I also noticed the price tags. Reasonable prices. Not a dime more (actually, several dozen dimes less because you don't have to pay tax at Plowsharing) than what I'd have to pay for the same product somewhere else. I made a mental note, because Mr. Ugly needed to be repotted and taken out for the summer.

Who is Mr. Ugly, you ask? Well, actually, his real name is Herr Häβlich, but Häβlich isn't the easiest thing for my kids to pronounce plus they sadly have no idea what all those sounds mean, so we anglicized it. This is a picture of my Mr. Ugly that I took back in February. He was overwintering in the dining room and has grown quite a lot since then.

Late last summer, my neighbor invited us to come see her Night Blooming Cereus open up on a still and cool summer evening. A few weeks passed, and then she brought over a mason jar with cuttings from the plant. They rooted well and I planted them in the only unused pot I had and kept it in the dining room. Not more than a week later I had my parents over for dinner. When my mom walked in and saw the plant she instantly (and delightedly) declared that I had a Mr. Ugly plant.

Apparently, years ago, she had a plant like this. One of us named it Herr Häβlich (we all had German in High School, so it's anyone's guess where that name came from) and the name stuck. Mom had no idea that it was a night bloomer, though. Her Mr. Ugly stayed in the house year-round, so he never got the chance.

Earlier today I went back to Plowsharing shortly after they opened, selected a large pot, and brought it home. While I was there I found out that the store is run entirely by volunteers, they're a non-profit, that they have been in St. Louis for nearly three decades. To me, that's almost as impressive as the help they have provided to people who need it. Fair trade allows artisans throughout the world to benefit from the sale of their products in wealthy markets like the one down the street from me. From now on, when I need a gift for someone in town, Plowsharing will be my first stop.

This evening (I had to wait for sundown. I just can't take the brightness or the heat or the skin-burning.) I repotted Mr. Ugly into the Plowsharing pot and found a place for it outside where he will get just the right amount of sun.

Too Many to Count

It's been a really nice, really full day. It started with guacamole, homemade by me, because I felt like having it for breakfast. Here's how I did it:

1 ripe avacado, seeded and mashed
1 t. lemon juice, though lime's better if you've got it
1 T hot salsa
2 T fresh cilantro, cut up into tiny bits.

Blend it all together and serve with chips--package and send some with your husband who doesn't hold with early-morning guacamole.

Next up; a trip to the Botanical Garden. The purpose for this particular visit was to find a suitably "spring"-like present for the girls' cousin. We did, and we also wandered around and took a lot of pictures while we were there. Here's one:

So much was blooming. In the Climatron we saw, among other things, limes budding on a lime tree and a (pink!) pineapple growing like nobody's business. The roses were spectacular. Star happily wandered the hedge maze in the Victorian garden while Dandelion refused to be photographed. They both adored the tiny frogs swimming merrily in the pool where the Angel Musicians danced overhead.

Our plan was to go from the Garden to the Airport, where Aunt Terra would catch a flight to NC for the weekend. We had a few extra minutes, so we ducked into Sweet Art for cupcakes.

I'd been curious about this little shop for ages. The proprietors are a couple. She bakes, he paints. Sweet. Art. Lovely. The cupcakes were good and the art was lyrical. Their savory menu looked marvelous, so I'll have to go back some time when I'm thinking "meal" and not "child-appropriate snack".

The rest of the day didn't photograph quite so well. We dashed to the airport and then dashed back to the house where I threw together a sack lunch for Star to take to her school picnic. I took the kids to their schools for the last time--summer break is setting in. Got home and worked a bit on the back-yard fire pit. Tried to cleaned the gutters but realized I really am too chicken to clean the ones on the back of the house (where there's no porch to catch me if I fall). Went shopping and bought blackout fabric for curtains in the girls' room, a birthday present for a party Dandelion's going to tomorrow, and a swim cover up for me. Picked the kids up (from school and the bus stop) for the last time--it's officially summer break. Took them to the pool. Dandelion went down the slide! Came home. Made dinner. Got the kids to bed.

And that brings us to me, sitting here typing this. Hopefully, in the next few days, I'll sink into a rhythm for the summer. Maybe, even though the kids will be with me all day every day, I'll finish some of the things that I'm in the middle of (too many to count, actually) and when I do I'll share pictures of it with you.

Sometimes I Forget

Dandelion's school offers a wide range of services for kids with special needs, and therefore employs occupational therapists, speech pathologists, and probably other professionals that I just haven't heard of yet. Back when I slip-covered the little couch in my daughter's classroom, word got out that I sew. Twice since then, I've gotten requests like this one:

It's funny to me to look at how the OT prepared these wrist bands--intended to help children exercise specific finger or thumb muscles by holding others in place. She certainly got the job done--the black magic marker, the paper clip, these are good instructions. And though all of this was effective, there are methods that anyone who sews would know about that do all of this with the same effectiveness but far greater finesse. It made me realize that I often forget just how much I know about sewing. I also tend to forget that other people don't necessarily know what I do.

An unflatteringly long time ago the OT asked me to make two weight vests for the ADD/ADHD kids--she prescribes 20 minutes or so a day in these vests to give kids with too much energy some resistance to push against. She could have bought vests like this online, but they are needlessly and unjustifiably expensive. By making them for the school I knew I would be saving them a ton of money (because I volunteer my time and my fabric, when I have it). Since they are simple to make I agreed. Since the request was made, I have had a lot of other things going on (just check my archives!) and days steadily turned into weeks and into months. But, today I finished the second one. It feels good to be finished and to know that I won't have to reprimand myself for forgetting that project anymore.

At the Flea Market

In the past I've complained about the freebie-newspapers that land unbidden and unwanted in my yard--particularly the problematic plastic bags they arrive in--but perhaps I shouldn't complain. They have a great community calendar in there that lists more fascinating events than we know what to do with. And this week, in their classified section, there was something that caught my eye: an add for a flea market to be held at one of those neat boutiquey-antiquey shops in my neighborhood. The girls and I went early this morning to check it out.

The shop is called Recycled Rose. Even though it's in my neighborhood and not at all out of the way, I've only gone in a handful of times. Still, it's a charming shop filled with beautiful things. Most of what you'll find at Recycled Rose is just a touch too romantic or eclectic (or both) for me to seriously consider making a purchase, but wandering through the shop is like wandering through a daydream -- and I like daydreaming.

In February I bought some lawn furniture I found there. It needs some work before we can use it. Now that the whether is getting nicer I'll probably prioritize the work these pieces need to be put to use.

Back to the flea market: it was set up (mostly) behind the store in a kind of wild meadow. It was picturesque, actually. The girls wanted to buy everything they laid eyes on, but were great shopping buddies all the same. And when I found a vendor selling antique (functional!) watering cans, I bought one. I've needed one for months, and now, I have one.

K. Hall Designs

I was out running errands today and a shop caught my eye that I hadn't noticed before. K. Hall Designs, and in big letters under that, APOTHECARY. After living in Germany and Lebanon, my sense of what an apothecary might be is quite broad. I mean, really. They could have anything from fizzy vitamin tablets to dehydrated lizards and I swear it would not surprise me.

But K. Hall did surprise me. They're tucked into a rather unfashionable block of Manchester Road in Brentwood--across the street is a garden shop and just down the road there's a place to rent heavy equipment. There are a few vacant storefronts to the right and left of them. It just isn't the kind of block where you'd expect to open a door into a magical boutique where everything looks and smells perfect.

The shop was full of beautiful furniture and furnishings. There were gorgeous linens and glassware. They had clothing for children and adults, an array of bath products, and everything smelled so lovely. Being in that store was simply wonderful, so I bought a candle to remind me of it.

They make all the candles and bath products on location (lotion, soaps, scrubs). Hooray for local businesses!

update: they have a website.

Weekend Highlights

It has been a dizzying weekend. Here are some of the high points:

The kids both earned yellow belts after 3 months of Karate-on-Saturday.

The Lavender and Chives finally sprouted. I hadn't given up watering even if I had given up hope.

My sister and her family came to town and we celebrated niece B's birthday with a trip to the Butterfly house. Star remains (inexplicably) terrified of them--maybe because they flutter?

To decorate the birthday cake, Suz brought the most enormous gummy butterflies from a little shop in Tipton.

We found out (from the people who work there) that of all the families that bring their children to our gym's child center, we are there most often.

Dozer really is a charming puppy, even if he does more jumping and climbing than my girls know what to do with.

Oddly, I had a crop of unexpected daffodils in the back yard this spring. They popped up out in the grass, getting in the way of Matthew and our lawnmower. So I dug them up. Any takers (from folks in town)?

We got a package from Oma Bonnie and Grandpa Dan with super birthday presents inside.

The girls and I cleaned, organized, and completely rearranged their room. Now, all their toys are in their bedroom instead of in the play room. It's better this way.

I have resumed composting, and the thing I like most about it is how very little ends up out at the curb on garbage day.

Choice Time Musical

I had my last volunteer day of the '08-'09 school year on Friday. Normally when I go Star's school, the teacher sets up three activities or assignments--called "have tos". I, the teacher, and the teacher's aid each manage one of these and the kids rotate through at their own pace. The kids who finish their "have-tos" first get to do whatever they want--called "choice time"--while they wait for everyone else to finish.

Friday, my job was to help the kids illustrate a booklet that contained the text to a song about May Day; which I've since come to think of as the most disenfranchised American holiday of them all. Anyway, the kids really latched onto the song and sang along as they illustrated their booklets with flowers, cheery suns, poop, and exploding houses (they are six-year-olds, after all).

As more and more of them entered choice time, I was surprised to see that many of them kept on singing the song. By the time everyone had finished the three have tos, the singing kids had organized themselves into a kind of impromptu chorus line complete with hand puppets. They invited everyone who wasn't going to sing (about half the class) to be their audience. The performance was enthusiastic, the audience went crazy, and as the singers took a bow, I knew that I would remember this as the best day I ever had in Star's classroom.

At Dvin

Saturday afternoon I told Matthew that I wanted to go out for dinner, and I suggested Dvin. I'd read a few reviews and all of them made me want to check it out myself. Every review of Dvin covers the same basic points:
1. the restaurant is staffed by a mother-daughter duo and no one else.
2. the food is authentic and hails from Russian, Armenian, and Greek origins.
3. their location is easy to miss
4. you might wait a long time for your food

We searched the reviews for tips about how to not wait quite so long for our food, and feeling confident that the kids would endure, we set out for the restaurant.

When we walked into the tiny dinning room at Dvin, Matthew reported that he felt like he had been instantaneously transported to eastern Europe. Bold floral place-mats were set over linen table cloths. The walls were crowded with images of Moscow, nondescript watercolors and other sentimental kitch. There were rainbow colored ceiling fans overhead and lace curtains at the windows. This, Matthew said, is Slavic.

Despite our well laid plans to not wait a long time for our food, we did wait a very long time. And the kids got antsy. And progressively more tired. And cranky. They were a challenge. Just as I was regretting the decision to bring the kids with us . . . the food came. The four dishes we ordered were wonderful, so good that we knew then and there that we would not leave without trying desert.

That alone is something remarkable. Wrestling with children is usually enough to submarine an otherwise good dinner, but not at Dvin. Matthew was so impressed by their food that he felt it was worth it to be there even with the kids along. He definately has a new favorite restaurant.

As for me . . . I loved the food. I've only had authentic Russian food a few times (made by Russian friends when we lived in Germany) and so I'm no connoisseur. I don't dare speak to the authenticity of the dishes we sampled, but I would gladly sit down in front of those dishes again. Also, I must praise the atmosphere of the place, down to the mismatched dishes and the Russian music in the background. If eating out is about experiencing something different, Dvin has that in spades.

As we left the restaurant I persuaded the kids to pause for a picture.

They really were good sports.

Food for Fines

Did you know this is National Library week? I didn't until I took my kids there today. To celebrate, St. Louis County Libraries will accept canned good instead of money to pay off library fines (just this week, I should say).

And, wouldn't you know it, we racked up an impressive amount of library debt recently when I left town with the kids and missed the return-date for a book about Egyptian mummification.