Happy Birthday, Allie!

Today is my dear sisters 28th birthday. Yesterday we met up with her in NH at a restaurant a fellow farmers marketer has started in a gorgeous old mill. Poppers at the Mill features handmade cured meats, mostly pork and duck, sourced locally and served alongside the most amazing curry ketchup you will ever dream of (well, the ketchup was really just for the hotdog and burger; I put it on everything else). It was a great chance to try stuff I'd always wanted to but not commit to a whole entree as we all shared a HUUUUUUUGE sampler platter and then tasted everyone elses order. I can report that we all loved the duck pate, cheese curds are amazing, I have eaten head cheese (and it tasted fine, just the idea of what I ate precludes a repeat), and I have a new culinary goal which is to make scotch eggs that remotely resemble the ones I devoured. After eating, we all (by "all", I mean Allie, Siena and many coworkers and their families) went to a beach. It was a rather small and seaweedy ones but the kids didn't care, nor did the adult that were in a swimming mood. H has become fearless in the water and was snatched, more than once, from out of a wave that had pulled her under, only to dash back in.
It was lovely to see Allie, nice to enjoy a kinda leisurely meal (H was horrid so Steve and I ate in shifts), and I hope she enjoyed her birthday celebration as much as we did. So what photographic treats from the trip do I have for you? The gorgeous old mill full of cute shops? The seaweed storm wall the kids made to protect their sand turtle? The old old old lady that swam better than all of us though she could barely walk? The birthday girl? Nope. I forgot to bring the camera, and then I never got out my phone. Fail. So, to make up for it, I took 147 of pretty much the same shot of Henri this morning while she frolicked on our bed. Happy Birthday, Allie :)

H's fashion for the day; a tutu and dad's belt wrapped around twice, taking my shoes for a walk in her stroller 

Also, in a form of reverse birthdaying, Allie gave me some canning tools; be prepared for much awesomeness (in the true sense of the word) shortly.

A public service announcement

I have a dump of pictures for your perusing pleasure, but before we get to the mindless stuff, may I draw your attention to a few (quick) things.
Our church has been blessed with an abundance of babies over the years. Like most such organizations, it fluxes in number but right now we seem to be on the large brood every two years with one or two in the in-between. (Example: last year there were 5 (all girls), this year one (boy!!!!! in 3 weeks!!!!!!!!...I'm super excited) and next year we're expecting three so far). And each time, I hear the same refrains, mostly from the guys, and it seems to me time to correct some misconceptions.
1) You do not get pregnant from drinking water. I'm almost done my didactic training and I can state positively that there have been no recorded cases of conception via H2O ingestion. I'd like to think the men are trying to be funny when stating "it's something in the water" but it's said so frequently I'm becoming concerned at A) they really don't have a clue about contraception (hence our population growth) and B) their kids are hearing this and I fear they'll think this is the "birds and bees" talk way before they get the facts. If this comes as news to you, I'd be more than happy to explain the conception process and the males' role in it. Which brings me to....
2) "WE" are not pregnant. Your wife is. No one doubts your interest in, excitement about, and involvement in the process (see #1), but you are not pregnant. Every time I hear a guy say that, I cringe, and pity the family because it's a huge red flag that he is in no way ready to step up and be a proper dad. Know why? Because the guys role is support in all of this. It's a huge role, it's a very important role, but it's a sacrificial one. Nothing is about you anymore. Sorry. Time, energy, talents, time, money, time...it's all going to need to go to the family. So to try and call attention to yourself by claiming a physical improbability, well, grow up. (And while you're at it, stop mocking your wife's pregnancy symptoms. They really do suck and it's freaky having this thing completely take over your body and mind. Show some support).***
3) OK, this is just personal feelings being hurt, but quit asking if I'm pregnant the moment you hear someone else is. I'm well aware I have not returned to supermodel physique in even a reasonable amount of time, and (not that it's any of your business) I'm working on that, but I have slightly more important things to do with my time than spend hours at the gym like I could before having children. And saying "isn't it about time you make your own announcement?" is the same thing as telling someone they look 9 months pregnant.
4) Please keep telling me how you're going to parent and what your child will never be allowed to do. I know I did it and I'm assuming I gave the veteran parents as much joy and mirth as you're giving me. So any time you want to discuss your planned sleep schedule or organic garden patch or hand spun clothing, I'm all ears. Because you'll soon learn that every parent needs a really hard laugh at least once a day to survive.
Thank you. We now return to our regularly scheduled week-in-review :)

Miserable-looking fox sunning on the neighbors patio

Henri's first Pop's concert at Tanglewood. Perfect venue for introducing your kids to live music

Warming up

View from the grounds

To keep the peace, we went to the Basketball Hall of Fame

My favorite photo there

Lots of great interactive displays

This sorta summed up the trip, hahaha

A shoe flag

My study/craft closet before

In progress. FYI, this was not the color I thought it would be...

Little punk

She still loves books, both to be read to and to read to herself.

 

We might need to get her a swing set, she gets frustrated that she can't slide very well on this

Remnants of an onion H picked and has been peeling each day. She really loves it, cuddles it, carries it around the yard, looks for it each day. This child needs a pet.

The hostas have been losing their petals like crazy to H



Kitty overload!

An honesty shot. What the house looks like on a normal morning

Teething

Big helper bringing in the clothespins. They weigh quite a bit in comparison to her but she's eager to haul them in for me :)

 

Lots of readings, accumulating of paperwork for clinicals, starting to prep for our vacation (!), teaching Henri her letters (she's good on "A", "B" and "E"), and having to start hiding the good food from H (chips) as that's all she wants to eat once she spots it. Hope you're enjoying this gorgeous streak of weather!

 

***I should make mention of the fact that the above generalization is in no way embodied by Steve. His name could easily have been "supportive" throughout my entire pregnancy, he made stupid comments about pregnancy/conception exactly once and has not repeated the offense, and he tells me I'm beautiful daily. I'm well aware I lucked out with him.



 

Why I would have made a crummy pioneer:

There are lots of reasons for this, actually. My (lacking) sense of direction would have put me over a cliff, or right back where I started from. I'm pretty live-and-let-live when it comes to patterns so clothing would have been a sight. Any meat that begins to resemble its origins sends me into a gagging fit (and that includes boneless skinless chicken breasts) and the thought of wearing skins leaves me clammy. All of this would no doubt be enough to convince the casual observer that I am not cut out of the pioneer cloth. For those with still a twinge of doubt, let me tell you a little story.

Once upon a time Today I was handed a 20lb box of peaches. Some were very ripe, some were not, but they were fresh from the tree and the first I've had in years. Instantly I had visions of shelves of gleaming preserves, all effortlessly put up by yours truly, that we could enjoy all winter long (total side note, but did you hear our esteemed meteorologists are calling for a very harsh winter? Lots of bitter cold and precipitation. Yippee). First, Henri and I sampled a peach. And then we compared it to one from the bottom of the box. And then one from the middle. And then I cut Henri off because she wasn't letting me have a bite.



The peaches



Next, we made a peach cobbler. And by we I mean I made it, Henri mooched bites of peaches. So far, so good, right? Cobbler is a pioneery thing to make, just peaches and sugar boiled with a nice soft drop biscuit on top. While the reviews weren't raving at supper, I noticed there wasn't much left for tomorrows breakfast.

I know, this story is going nowhere fast. But hold on, because after supper is where it got fun. To have gleaming shelves of preserves, one must preserve them. I have none of the "suggested" (required) equipment, but neither did the pioneers, right? And following exact recipes has never been my thing (see first paragraph re: patterns). With a link from Allrecipes and blind faith in my abilities, I started chopping and peeling and mixing and boiling. First problem, only 3 jars were short enough to fit into my stock pot. No problem, I'd make one big jar of refrigerator pickles out of the remnants that didn't fit.

The fridge pickles

The water with the sterilizing jars started boiling about the moment the brine for the pickles (oh yeah, forgot to mention I was making pickles, NOT preserves or jam) started to boil, instantly rendering breathing impossible (but at least the house has been well fumigated). Jars have to be hot, so you need to work somewhat quickly. As I don't have jar lifters, I wrapped rubber bands around some kitchen tongs and pulled my jars out. Pretty genius, right? Except there are grooves in the tongs and you have to hold them in such a way that boiling water ran down them and I now sport a second degree (feels like 4th degree) burn on my wrist and forearm.
I've received plenty of burns in my lifetime (electrical, chemical (battery acid), and normal hot stuff touching you kinds) and the reaction is always the same. Not sure how everything got placed down without breaking it, and I'm holding the afflicted part under cold water with a weird sensation of the sweats. Needless to say it went downhill from there.
I overfilled the jars with peaches so when I added the brine it poured everywhere (2 cups of sugar in that vinegar; HUGE mess). Then the pot really wasn't big enough so water boiled out and flooded my stove. Everything, including the floor, was pure stick, and somehow it turned 10000 degrees in the kitchen all at once. Also my wrist hurt. And H was put to bed somewhere in there and was screaming.
And when the smoke finally cleared (figuratively speaking, there was too much water from the pot for an actual fire to break out), I was left with three jars of peaches.

Notice my fancy jar retriever thingy

And this:

That's every pot I own but one...

I would have starved as a pioneer.


The vacation where I came back severly sleep-deprived

Let me start out by saying I had a wonderful time at home and cried all the way over the mountain pass when I had to leave. However, H has decided that she needs to nurse a few times a night starting around 3, and then be up for the day at 0530. I could have ignored her except she yells "hi!" and waves enthusiastically until I get her AND her crib was against my bed so she would grab my feet and tickle (who teaches her these things???). Anyway, no sleep. But it was worth it to just be home and sitting in grass and talking to my mom and sisters and watching Henri play in the pea gravel.


H talking to Gram

One of the main reasons we went when we did was to go to Field Days. In typical toddler fashion, H chose that to be the only day EVER she woke up from her nap out of sorts. She wasn't fussy, she just wasn't impressed (until the very end when we got to the sheep and baby chicks). I must say I was a bit disappointed as I expected her to be ecstatic about the tractors and want to climb all over them, but she barely glanced at them. Though in retrospect, she might not have known what they were as she thinks riding lawn mowers are "tractors" (more her size, I guess). I won't bore you with tons of pictures of the sheep and the tractors and the maple donuts (and shakes and cotton candy....) but here are a few:

Hot and out of sorts

Waiting for the hand mowing competition to start

Yup

The photographed guy made all of these over a hundred years ago

Aunt Meg gave her a piece of grass and she was very happy with it for a long time. Can you say city girl?

Spotted at the fair, and I want a pair!

You could easily discern the old-timers from those attempting to prove strength or speed. This gentleman had a smooth deliberate swing that was lulling to watch. The guy ahead of him (a Boston marathoner) hacked away and sped through it. At the end, I think their times were about the same and the OT's stubble was shorter, his hedgerow was neater, and he wasn't panting like the sprinter. Lots of lessons there....

H and the sheep had conversation

Watching the draft horses pull

No explanation needed...

Love Jersey's!

The chicks and roosters have been spotted

She was cooing over them

Making chick noises

You know you're small when a miniature horse seems big to you

After all that, the one tractor she wanted to ride? A golf cart someone was using to get around the fair. He nicely let her "drive". Yup, city girl.

And then we went home and went swimming. Henri completely surprised me by wanting to be taken out into the big pool and was fine with floating on her stomach (I kept my hand there to keep her face out of the water because she's not so good at the "no breathing in the chlorine" rule) and we started working on kicking. Makes me really wish we could be home all summer (and fall...) so she could swim every day. But we had to return to MA so I could write a paper and take an exam. And so that H could keep her 1 year appt...3 months late. She's now 18lb 15oz and 30" tall! Whew, getting huge :)