a blessing. a curse?

Welcoming Spring, we enjoyed Sunday brunching with dear friends.

Most notable? Perhaps when Ev’s (long winded) blessing on the food included,
‘And please bless Mommy to not be so grumpy.’

After amen, what could I do but admit to being absolutely outed.... thanks Ev.

Perhaps the chance to squeeze the ever knead-able thighs of Toddling Abigail and Tank Will.

Perhaps the chance to follow Costco's lead in packaging ridiculous portions of chocolate, poppy seed and banana CAKE into liners and calling them muffins as if there is anything non- dessert about them. Here are today's splurgy breakfast stretches...

Buttermilk Syrup

3/4 cups buttermilk

1 1/2 C sugar

1 cube butter

2 TBSP corn syrup

1 tsp. baking powder

1 (I use 2) tsp vanilla (or coconut flavoring)

Combine all but vanilla in a large pot (it bubbles -messy) Bring to a boil and reduce heat to low, continue bubbling, stirring frequently, at seven minutes it will be a luscious golden-brown. Remove from heat and add flavoring.

Enjoy the justification of molten caramel as a legitimate breakfast accessory.

Susan's baked berry French Toast

1 loaf French or Challah bread

8 ounces cream cheese

1 cup blueberries or raspberries or strawberries

10 eggs

1-1/2 cups half and half (I use milk)

1/3 cup maple syrup

1/2 cup melted butter

Cut bread into 1 inch cubes. Spray 9x13 inch baking dish with Pam. Place half the bread cubes in prepared baking dish. Scatter cream cheese pieces across bread. Sprinkle berries over cream cheese. Cover the berries with remaining bread cubes. Combine the eggs, half and half, syrup and melted butter in a bowl and mix well. Pour the egg mixture over the bread cubes.

Chill, covered, over night. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Bake uncovered, for 40-50 minutes or until set.

Enjoy the justification of Bread Pudding as a perfectly acceptable pallet for aforementioned 'syrup.'

Farm Fun

Hunting mud puddles in dune buggies, Milk Shake Monday at the 'Ice Bergie' burger joint, wild growths of overhead mistletoe (with their associated perks) and watching
quiet sunsets from the order of the orchard. Another magical weekend at Taryn's farm.

Who are you calling a chicken?

Sporting fluffy feathered bloomers, dalmatian print coats, and crazy spiked hairdos, this coop was cool.

Easter Egg hunting...the first (and certainly most authentic) of the season.

Easter Eggies without the dye? Only at the farm!

'You want to put me in an enclosed wire arena with those crazed, caged, clucking, clawed, razor sharp beaked beasts? What is this, the Hunger Games? No thanks...I'll stay out here and take my chances with the teeny Maltese puppy (also a terrifying foe).' -J.E.
And yes sweet, cautious Baby Jane, the answer is you. We are calling you a chicken.

x

Snowmobiling at Butte Meadows.

What a surprise for my double socked, booted feet to find 20 feet of snow only a short drive from the farm where they were sun stroked and flip flopped nearly and hour earlier?

Ev loved the snowmobile and kept yelling back her Disney practiced, ‘weeeeee – no hands!’ and then insisting (clearly lost on the concept of a thumb throttle, or steering for that matter) that I too try ‘no hands.’

J.E. took a less aggressive approach submitting to her usual stance when things get really cold, really loud, or really scary (or in this case, a likely combination of the three)…what we call her submission survival mode. Marshmellowed in floral, fluffy warmth, and pinned between my knees, she sat silently rocking back when I accelerated (knocking her head against my helmet) and rocking forward when I braked (knocking her head against the handle bar) I kept lifting and dropping her arm to test her consciousness. After several feet and too much empathetic anxiety to enjoy the trip, I took off my fleece and tied her to me, resulting in an oddly empowering (though hardly natural – my hair still smells of gasoline) Sacagawea experience as I tore through the trees, my young tightly fastened to me, exploring the white, wide world.

Mommy Daughter Dancing Day

Ev and I joined some friends for the Dupree Dance Convention in Santa Clara for a full day of workshops with the 'minis.' Most of the 'minis' were five or six and taking dance lessons several days a week. Brimming with confidence and charisma, three year old novice Ev twisted and twirled (often incorporating her own rhythmic body rolls and certainly untamed by the intended choreography) through ballet, jazz, and musical theater. When it was time for tap, however, the precision of steps and speed of class clearly overwhelmed her. She shuffled and flapped, knocked and stamped but came over for a granola bar break about half way through. I put my arm around her and asked, 'Ev, how is it going?' to which she replied in an unfamiliar pensive voice, 'they are gooder than me.'....pause, pause, and then thoughtfully 'they THINK they are gooder than me' and now with conviction, 'they THINK they are gooder than me, but I am gooder than them.'
Oh dear, she has gleaned the ridiculous overconfidence of not one, but two genetic donors.

Ev's favorite? Her broadway routine to 'Lollipop' followed of course by....sweeter than candy on a stick, huckleberry, cherry or lie-lime.

Mom captured it best...
Dear Em:
Isn't it one of the quintessentially delicious experiences in life to watch your luscious little girl, frothed in pink, point and pirouette, tip and tap? Welcome to the club.
Mom

Evil Eye Eva

revisited

Lovey Love Day

Spreading the Love

Love notes to loved ones

Sweet nothings whispered ....

Hugs, smiles and squeezes sent in sugar....

and Cupid herself...

Valentining

Love notes, Love Birds and A Valentines toast of Love Potion Number Nine.

To my bright eyed, happy-happy BJ, I love the way you love me when you hug ‘heady down’, when you smile with your whole round face and ‘Hiee’ when I walk through the door, when you giggle and play ‘peet-a-bah’. When you give me a ‘tickle, tickle, tickle’ and crawl into my crux for a morning hug. I love to love you when I place spoonfuls of yummy warm oatmeal and sweet ripe fruit in your toothy grin, and especially when I rock you in my arms and quietly sing to your heart with my lips on your soft soft cheeks. I love you sweet valentine.

To my Sweet and Spicy and so so Silly valentine Miss Ev, I love the way you measure and stir and taste and remind me that we forgot to drape towels on our shoulders to clean our sticky fingers. I love the way you surprise me with your art, your messages, your songs and your dances. I love to love you when I share a delicious bite of afternoon ice cream, when I pop a strawberry in your mouth or snuggle next to you on your bed, when I tell you the story of your grand world entrance, when we watch cooking shows together and give two kisses on each cheek. Xxoo, mommy

Eva's love potion toast? 'Here's to lots of slumber parties with daddy and Baby Jane be happy.'

Aaarrrrrrrggggh and a Pirate Party

Aarrrrrgh Matey

When we were summoned to join Captain Ruby the Fierce for a Pink Pirate Adventure, we knew we were in for a Swashbuckling good time!

Bejeweled monocles were made, Lunch was Serrrrrrrrrved, and Pink Pirates Partied

Evil Eye Eva?....yes, she was into it.