All Water, All the Time

Permit me, if you will, a time line of my adventures with water in 2010.

In March, massive rains arrived in New Jersey.  My basement filled with water and my dining room ceiling sprung a leak.  The basement has since been drained and cleaned out; the dining room leak has been plugged.  The damaged ceiling still requires repair, and I might have gotten to the job sooner if it weren't for the month of April.

In April, the bathroom plumbing commenced to leak through the kitchen ceiling.  A quick repair stopped the immediate dripping.  And a bathroom remodel, including brand new plumbing and a whole lot of new tile, assured that it wouldn't happen again.  That project took us right into May.  The kitchen ceiling, now repaired, has now been added to my list of summer ceiling projects in need of paint.

I'd hoped that the arrival of June would bring some smooth sailing.  Instead, when I went downstairs this morning with a load of laundry in hand, I found some water.  Not a lot of water, mind you, but water nonetheless.  And water in a spot in the basement which had never had water before (which is saying something).  The wetness seemed to spread from the hot water heater.  And by the end of the day, Sassafras House was the proud owner of a new hot water heater. 

I do my best to lie low when it comes to the Universe.  But clearly there is some wet message that I have not yet heard.  I'll be spending the next few days sorting that issue out, if only to avoid whatever wet disaster July plans on splashing my way.

Fireflies

I grew up in California and though I took trips out of state, I don't really recall seeing lightening bugs as a child.  When I was 21, I moved to Nashville, Tennessee.   I quickly fell in love with the city and the many ways that it was different from my native state.  One evening that fall, I was at a party with other grad students.  While everyone else drank beer and discussed whatever it is that grad students discuss, I stood outside on the deck and watched the fireflies.  I recognized them as lightning bugs because I had seen them at Disneyland, in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride.  Everyone else had grown up with fireflies; they saw nothing exotic in the woods.  But I was transfixed. 

This week, the lightening bugs have been thick at dusk and JT and my mom and I have sat outside to watch them.  All these years later, I still think they are magical.  JT can't ever remember a time they weren't part of his world.  But, like me 21 years ago, my mom has been charmed by the sudden flashes of light in the dark hedges of the backyard.  It's been lovely.

Middle Schooler!

Today, my little boy finished the fourth grade and with it, his time at the Lower School.  He's been there for seven years.  When he started pre-school at the age of 3, I remember thinking that by the time he finished the 4th grade he'd be halfway to grown up.

Back then, such a milestone was unthinkable. I was just hoping he'd get through the day in one set of clothes.  His first backpack contained a Ninja Turtles lunch box and his green blankie for naps (naps he never did enjoy).  He proudly carried it himself when I walked him to class each morning.  Today, he spoke of those pre-K days, speaking into a microphone as more than 200 people listened.  He was poised and confident; well-spoken and just everything a mama could want.  His grandma and I were as proud as we could be.  We left school with a heavy binder and a backpack full of projects.  And he strode ahead of me as we left the building.

 Every corner of this school is familiar to him.  He feels at home here.  Protected and safe.  That is a blessing so enormous that I can hardly get my mind around it.  Eight years stand between this moment and graduation from this school in the 12th grade.  And today, as I mark the virtual half way point, I'm very aware of how quickly that time will pass.

Reading the Tea Leaves

It's primary day in New Jersey and a handful of other states.  There have been a number of these sorts of elections in the last few months.  Most of them are primaries; a handful of Congressional special elections have also been held.  Eager for evidence of how things might play out in the November 2010 midterm elections, the media has paid attention to most of these races. 

A consistent theme has been hard to find, but I think that there is one: anti-incumbency.  Many voters, frustrated by the endless list of American problems, have decided that the folks currently in office are to blame for our troubles.  And anti-incumbent waves like this, which don't come along all that often, can be dangerous for both parties.

The surprise Scott Brown victory in Massachusetts in January of 2010 was read by the mainstream media as evidence that the Tea Party branch of the GOP was ascendant.  But I believe that Brown's victory is better understood as the edge of anti-incumbent wave, one that has caught both parties in its fury.  Voters are looking to defy expectations.  In Utah, loyal GOPer Robert Bennet was seeking a third term in the Senate.  But he was cast aside by his party at their convention.  Newly-minted Democrat Arlen Specter, who joined the party after 2008, reasoning that he could not win re-election to his 5th term in the Senate as a member of the GOP, lost the Democratic primary and found that he just couldn't win re-election to the Senate.  It wasn't their party affiliation which cost Bennet and Specter their seats.  It was their insider status.

Today's races feature a handful of Tea Party candidates looking to replace party-favored candidates on the GOP line come November.  The Tea Party seems to mostly be partisan-driven and from the right, forcing mainstream GOP candidates to tack right in primaries.  But winning the general election requires a moderation that Tea Partiers might find hard to swing (consider, for example, the public relations disaster that Tea Party fave Rand Paul has proven to be in the Bluegrass State).  I'll be watching the Tea Party candidates in Nevada and South Carolina tonight.  In  Arkansas, incumbent Democrat Blanche Lincoln is hoping to avoid the specter of losing her party's nomination to Democrat Lt. Governor Bill Halter.  I suspect she's about to lose. 

There are other contests as well, as this handy Washington Monthly post notes.  It's likely to be an interesting evening, though the big meaning of it all won't be truly understood until November.  And this is politics, so November is a long time from now.

Update: I was wrong about Arkansas; Lincoln held on. The Tea Party candidate in Nevada, Sharron Angle, won the right to face Democrat Harry Reid in Nevada.  Two California Republican self-financed women, former CEOs Meg Whitman and Carly Fiorina, earned the right to run for Governor and Senate, respectively.  It was an interesting evening.

Surprise

Later this week, JT finishes the 4th grade.  The school has a ceremony for closing the Lower School and since 4th grade is the end of the Lower School line, it also serves as a celebration of the 4th graders.

It will be my 7th Lower School closing, so I know the drill.  Among other things, the kids dress up.  In most years, I've defined "dress up" as ironed shorts.  But this year, JT has his first tie and some rather snappy seersucker trousers to wear with his button-down shirt.  I'm admittedly biased, but he'll look pretty sharp.  And today, a big surprise will come his way, in the form of Grandma flying east to join us for the ceremony.

He has no idea that she's coming and I'm about to burst with the secret.  Safe travels, Grandma.  We'll see you soon!

Real Life Conversations with JT: Little Pitchers edition

The backstory:  We were driving through a fairly empty parking lot on Friday afternoon when I pulled a classic Nebraska move and just shot across the rows, ignoring every traffic law on the books.  JT, ever the law-abiding child, was horrified.

JT:  What are you doing?

Mama:  Driving Nebraska-style.

JT: We're not in Nebraska and this is illegal.

Mama:  We're not in Nebraska?  How can you be so sure?

JT:  If we were in Nebraska, everybody would be white.

I fell out laughing.  When people have asked for a New Jersey-Nebraska comparison, I have often noted that the lack of ethnic diversity in Nebraska was always unsettling.  Apparently the "little pitchers have big ears" parable of children still holds true.

Food Friday: Strawberry Sauce

As it turns out, New Jersey isn't called the Garden State for nothing.  The strawberry season is upon us and in the last few weeks, I have bought pint after pint of fresh, locally-grown berries.  We've enjoyed strawberry shortcake, strawberry pie, and sliced berries.  And this week I remembered my recipe for strawberry sauce (my grandmother would have called this a compote).  I served it over vanilla ice cream but it would also be good on pancakes or French toast or served over a piece of poundcake, or how about all of the above?

The Recipe
2 pints of strawberries, hulled and sliced
6 tablespoons water
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 cup of sugar (if the berries aren't really fresh, you might want more….let your taste buds be the guide)
2 tablespoons corn starch

Set aside 1 cup of the sliced berries.

The rest go in a saucepan with the water, vanilla, sugar, and corn starch.

 Stir over medium heat, mixing well.  The goal is to bring this mix to a boil and then stir it for 1 minute, as it thickens.

 When it thickens, remove it from the heat; give it one more stir, and then add in the cup of sliced berries. 

Mix well and serve whenever you like.  Leftovers (if you have any), can be stored in the fridge.

Yum.

Insert Your Own Caption

 Obviously, the word that first comes to mind: classy.  My family is classy.

The Pretender

May has ended and June has just begun.  I'm wrapping up the school year and thinking about the summer ahead.  As I do every spring, I cycle through these days as they occurred four years ago.  Even though I can't be sure that there even was a moment when it all turned sour, I still look belatedly for the signs of the moment things changed.   I mark the lasts of those days and I foolishly ask myself what I could have done to prevent the disaster that would follow.

I don't know what this review of history will accomplish.  I know that I can't turn back time or patch things together.  And it seems silly to still mourn an ending while spring bursts around me.  The growing plants, the flowers, and the lovely  fresh green colors all seem so hopeful.  I want to grab hold of that promise.

But I can't quite seem to find it.  Four years ago, I took refuge in the idea that by now I would have worked through the pain and the sadness and come through to the other side: I am the Mama, hear me roar. I figured that by now I would have built a new life.  Not shiny and perfect.  But new to me; my version of imperfect perfection.  Instead, I have ....... honestly, most days I have no earthly idea what I have.  I have the laundry, the grass to cut, classes to teach, the floors to sweep and the bathrooms to clean.  I have supper to make.  A master calendar to get me to Little League games.  Homework to supervise. "Family" events to navigate.  At the end of the day, if I can stay awake long enough, I have a few pages of my book to read.  Then I swallow a benedryl and crash asleep.  A few hours later, I wake up to start it all again. 

I do know how incredibly lucky I am.  I'm grateful for the good things, especially my boy and my home.  But I feel that this life of daily events pales in comparison to my old hopes and dreams, false though they must have been.  I am tired of pretending that it's okay. Pretending to be strong.  Pretending that someday it will be better.  Pretending there is a future to be hopeful about.  I'm always pretending.  I'd very much like to start believing.

How 'bout them Apples?

The other night, JT and I headed out back to check the emerging apples on our trees.  There are more than 2 dozen apples on my young trees, enough for a pie with some lunchbox apples left over.

Word from my Dad gardening guru is that some of the apples on these branches should be trimmed.  The trees are just two years old and too heavy a crop could damage the branches.  The rule-of-thumb for a dwarf fruit tree this young is one piece of fruit every 6 inches.  So later this week, I'll remove some apples.  But that will still leave enough to harvest a pie. 

In other garden news, the primrose is suddenly quite lovely. 

JT and his 4 year old fan Miss G, had a turn in the sprinkler this weekend, a prelude of the days ahead.

 Within the week, I will be able to be in the garden every morning. I'm looking forward to weeding and mulching, pruning and clipping, and all the other ways that I care for the garden, feeding my soul as I grow beautiful things.