Frosty

Oh my goodness. This week has been hot, even by Washington, D.C. in the summer standards.
Poor Frosty would last about five minutes before he turned into a puddle.

Why I love summer

Pizza topped with garden-basil.
Tomatoes ripening on the vine.
Watching Cheeks ride her trike.
Buying fresh corn for supper.
Pretty flowers in hanging baskets.
Miss Bee longing for the pool.

Still here--

Just taking a moment to peek at my very neglected blog. I have no particularly good excuse or explanation for vanishing, I'm-a just a-very tired these days.

There are months when I think I have it all together, and family, work, and life seem to harmonize pretty well.

And then there are months where I feel like I am banging all the piano keys at once. Life in discord. An exquisite cacophony.

I read status updates enviously as my friends go off on vacation, or revel in that sweet space between job assignments. In the morning, I stare, sad-eyed at the carefree tourists navigating downtown D.C.--toting water bottles and metro maps.

However, the ballerinas are the worst of all. Every morning on my way to the office I pass a group of 10-15 teenage ballerinas, clustered at a bus stop, heading off to rehearsals. They wear sweaters over their leotards (in this Washington D.C. humidity)! They are languid; I am rushing. I try to walk gracefully past, swishing by in my wool suit. Answering emails all day doesn't really compare to Giselle and pas de deux though.

There are a few quiet corners in my crazy life-- though, like this past Saturday morning when both girls inexplicably slept past 7 am and I reveled in a few extra hours of sleep--and when I took fat Max running and he actually made it all the way home with me (never mind that part when he lay down in the grass and refused to get up for a good ten minutes)--and when the kiddies were giggling and being cute at the grocery store and then there was NO LINE at checkout. There's good stuff in there, too. I just gotta hold on tight to those little things for a while.

Father's Day

I should have written this post yesterday, but I was too busy orchestrating a happy father's day for my very dear and very deserving husband.

In the morning, Miss Bee was so excited to help prepare coffee and breakfast in bed for her father. After a round of Sesame street, breakfast for the rest of the family, quick jogs through the neighborhood, we all headed off to church.

By that time we arrived at church, Ms. Cheeks was feeling her fiesty side, which meant for an eventful service. In the span of an hour she did the following: demanded to be held upside down, and yes it is possible for a barely verbal child to demand that; ran wildly toward the font of holy water, probably for a swim; made strange noises during the songs, the kind where you take your pointer finger and flick it across your lips, which caused the entire row in front of us to turn around and laugh; and raised such a ruckus that she had to be carried out to the narthex on not one but four separate occasions.

At the end of the mass, the priest asked all the fathers to stand for a special blessing. Dear Husband was not among the honored group, as he was outside wrangling Ms. Cheeks.

We were all exhausted after church and fed the kiddies lunch and they all went to nap. Later on we gardened, and barbequed and simply enjoyed playing with the little ones and spending a nice quiet evening with family.

Oh man

So, where did those past two weeks go?

**crickets**

We put the kiddies to bed tonight right after dinner. I came down stairs and my mother said, "You know it's only 6:55 pm right?"

Whoops.

(An extra early bedtime once in a while won't hurt them, but I think Dear Husband and I were the ones in the need of a break.)

When will I stop dreaming about answering work emails? The problem with catching up on work while sleeping is that you have to do the same darn ones over again when you're awake. They just don't transmit so well.

Thank goodness for weekends:

hangi

We were invited to a hangi today and it was a really neat experience.

If you think the Texans are adventurous with pit cooked barbeque brisket, well, they have nothing on the Maori.

A New Zealand tradition, a hangi involves digging a very large pit, lighting a fire and heating stones and then using those hot stones and steam to cook a whole lotta food underground. Pork, lamb, chicken, cabbage, potatoes, the whole bit.

After quite a few hours underground, the hangi is dug up and out comes deliciously tender and flavorful meat and vegetables.

Miss Bee's eyes were the size of saucers as she watched the men dig up her lunch. She dug in happily to her plate a short while later, though.

Today made me realize just how much I love picnics and that we need to have more of them this summer.

it really does take a village

It's going to be really hard to move overseas again in a few years. As in, really, really hard.

Just today--

--Seeing my parents in the morning when we park in front of their house to walk to the metro. Cheeks McGoo poured water all over herself in the car, so we run inside my parents' house for a quick change. Cause my Mom has an extra outfit at the ready for just that contingency.

--Exchanging emails with my dear mother in law over my lunch break. She sends me interesting articles to read; I comment.

--My Father-in-law picking up Miss Bee for their Thursday afternoon adventure, spent with Bee's cousin and uncle. This week's activity--baking brownies (with chocolate frosting and walnuts) and then sending a plate of them home to me.

--Eating Carolina barbeque for dinner, brought up from that wonderful southern state by Miss Bee's godparents (who live next door to my parents).

--After dinner, watching my Mom push Miss Cheeks on the swing where I spent many a happy summer evening as a child.

--Coming home to find a bag of bread flour in my front door from my grandmother. (I had been complaining that my local store had stopped carrying any kind of bread flour.)

Watching my girls grow close to their relatives is one of the sweetest gifts I have ever received.