Another big day at Casa O. today. I’ve been slaving and slaving away on my
pest control project home-canning garden for weeks, and it
was time to show it off. I don’t
get to see my teacher friends nearly enough, and all the kids were off school, so DAC and I decided on a garden party.
It was so nice to take a break from
mind-numbing drudgery home gardening and enjoy the day. We had homemade lemonade, both child and adult versions, toll house chocolate chip cookies, and sand tarts from the 1968 Houston Junior League Cookbook. The little girls hung in there for the front yard portion of the tour, then bagged to hang with the big kids on the back porch. I'm pretty sure it had something to do with cookies. Or chihuahuas. I'm not sure. I'm willing to consider the possibility that my gardening successes and failures are not all that riveting to the 7 and 9 year--old set. Or maybe to anyone. Wait. What?
|"I'll give you $3 if you'll be in my picture."|
I am rereading Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle again (thanks, MWM) and continue to be amazed at her dedication to feeding her family from her own garden and community. And God bless her. But good heavens, how in the hell did she do it? I. Am. Absolutely. Exhausted. Self-help books talk a lot about mindfulness and being in the moment. Enjoying nature, accepting that you cannot change what is, look around at the beauty around you. Fuck that. I'm sweaty, stinky, rashy, bloody from cuts and scrapes, and so sore from digging and hauling that I can't turn my head to the right.
But today was a different kind of moment. It was a lovely, lovely day. There was a nice breeze under the trees. There were good friends. There was vodka. It was so nice to just sit. And visit with a dear, special, wonderful friend. The big girls love running around with the little girls: they had cookies on the couch, a game of Sketch-It, and made bracelets, which left plenty of quiet time for the mamas. A good deal all around.
And I am really, really proud of how it all came out. The garden does look nice. There is actual, real fruit (actually vegetable) on the plants. That's a baby jalapeno. I'm a mom! Those are tomatillos blooming behind it. All the more special was to have a friend to share it with. And it was nice to feel like there wasn't anything else I needed to do or anywhere else I needed to go. Those are the moments that make the sweat, the stink, the blood, and the rashes worth it.
Things were just perfect until it was time to leave. T made the terrible error of asking DAC what she and the girls were having for dinner. "Well, since we’re not on the project, oh, sorry, we’ll probably pick up something on the way home." G visibly paled when C said "let's go to Schlotzsky's." A long discussion ensued about why we were on the project and what it meant for us. Considerable attention was paid to the loopholes by C, who is smart as a whip, and only just a little bit concerned that her mama might want to go on the project, too. Loopholes only make it worse. Then, the sweet, little family bade their goodbyes and rolled off into the twilight. And my kids had leftovers. Which is just fine.
And, no, I didn't just finish the last of the sand tarts.
Why do you ask?