On the Fashion Runway…

I look back at childhood photos and wonder what my mom was thinking in her selection of my clothing. I don’t care that all the other children were wearing bell bottoms and polyester and brown and orange, she should have been able to rise above the chaff, right?

I am certain that my own children will do the same thing. For the record, I neither selected nor approved this outfit. This child has her own fashion sense, and I take no responsibility for her “look.”

And this one, who is increasingly difficult to capture in a decent photo (“Mary, stop moving!”)…well, let’s just say that I’m glad this underwear is clean. And I’m doubly glad it isn’t mine.

Tara’s here? No, Tarragon.

A few weeks ago, I signed up for six weeks of fresh vegetables delivered right to my home from a local farm via this site. They have a “winter” program, stuff grown in their greenhouse. We received our first delivery yesterday, which was mainly salad greens – and that’s fine. We eat salad. There was a small bunch of carrots, which everybody has been sneaking as though they were candy, so I don’t think they’ll last a full 24 hours, unless I hide them.

They also sent a bunch of fresh tarragon. Any suggestions on what to do with it? Tarragon has not been a key ingredient in my usual repertoire of dishes, but I’m always willing to try something new.

These 6 weeks are a test-run to see if we use the majority of the produce. The spring-summer program costs over $1000 for 18-20 weeks (not exactly sure). I can’t afford to waste that kind of money if we don’t eat the stuff. Based on this week, though, I like what I see. I’d prefer to grow my own, but between the shady garden plot and the deer who frequent our yard, I’m concerned I’d spend a lot of time working, and have little to show for it.

Which reminds me: I claimed that the only thing that would inspire me to shoot a gun at an animal was a rabid one preparing to attack my toddler. That’s untrue. Years ago, when I had my own garden in a nice sunny spot, I attempted lettuce for the first time. It was easy to grow, and my little row of leaves was coming up nicely, and I was salivating over the thought of a minutes-fresh green salad in a few weeks. One morning, I went back to do some weeding and pruning when I looked over at my row of lettuce. It was gone, nibbled down to the ground by a groundhog we saw frequently in the area, and one that Bill had once gone after with a shovel. At that moment, I could have throttled the thing with my bare hands. So, I’m willing to bet that even Bambi himself partaking of the fruits of my labor would find his hind quarters peppered with buck shot.

Time to De-Ice My Drive

My steeply sloped driveway is a thick sheet of ice. Bill got out Tuesday morning before the snow came and has been parking up on the street for the last two days. There is a tree strategical placed in the middle of the bottom of the drive, so if you lose control, that would likely be the thing to halt your slide.

Right now, it is below freezing, but the sun is on its way up and the temps are expected to climb a few degrees above the melting point. Hopefully the sunny day and the just-warm-enough temperatures will make clearing that drive of ice an easy task. The kids will be sorely disappointed to lose their sledding hill, but we have Tuesday’s rescheduled piano lessons this afternoon and Scouts tonight.

I’ll be a bit sad to see the sledding hill go, too. Not only were the kids entertained for hours yesterday afternoon, they all went straight to bed.