leah busy coloring in the toyroom. 

fooseball table compliments of fillmores 

leah's playhouse. too cute, huh? 

the tramp, complete with net. thanks, jonnie boy! 

tons and tons of basil. pesto, anyone? 

lots and lots of yet-to-be-ripe tomatoes. stay away frost, until these beauties are done! 

two cozy coupes. (a grand total of $6 at two different garage sales.) now you can see why it's worth getting up on saturday mornings. 

my kaffe fassett pennants. they are rather festive and the green polka dot matches my blog template, so i had to post it. 

a pic of leah twirling to fun music in the peace room. i was outside and took the picture through the sliding glass door. 

rear view of house 

more evidence of the orange spray paint (and ensuing carpal tunnel) on the patio. 

the girls' bedroom--we still need to paint it...i already have the paint--"violet devotion" from walmart. mom--i made the curtains out of the punk rock horse fabric from ikea. thanks! 

our master bedroom....it isn't really the master, but we couldn't resist the clerestory windows and the opaque side window... 

here's the "peace room" 

another moment of spray-paint insanity. (there are so many more coming, beware.) i decided that orange is our "signature color" (not blush and bashful....trivia question: where is that from?) this is "pastiche" according to jon. it's just kind of cool according to me. 

my solution to the sconce problem...$2.95 at home depot plus a little spray paint. i've always loved the classic jelly jar look. 

it took a 14-year old several viscious hits to get elastigirl down. thanks, caitlyn! 

elastigirl from party store for $4.99 couldn't be denied. she was a hit! (no pun intended!) 

fabulous phoebe holding estie jane so i could document the madness and awesomeness of our house"cooling" party. thanks, phoebers! 

leah double-fisted the rice krispy treats at the housewarming! you gotta live a little, right? 

ain't she sweet? beans and rice for little estie! 

do grafitti artists get carpal tunnel?

I pose this question because I have just gone through 5 spray paint bottles on my wicker patio furniture and my arm is totally gimp and i've lost the ability to grasp, pinch, etc. with my right hand. It's total degeneration. But, my patio furniture looks pretty awesome--the loveseat is "harvest orange" and the two side chairs are a lighter, springier orange. The crazy thing is that I've gone to Lowe's twice now to get spray paint, and I've run out for the second time. If I go back again, they're going to call the cops and follow me home and make sure I'm not the culprit. I also painted one wall of Leah's once neon, now not-so-overwhelming orange and pink toyroom. Color? Sugared Peach. Couldn't resist my favorite childhood breakfast. Mom--I remember you peeling and peeling and peeling pounds and pounds of Allred O'Henry's and we would eat them as fast as you could peel and sugar them. I hope that you got to eat a few---quel sacrifice...such is motherhood.

Yesterday, Leah and I painted the front bench (built-in on the front entrance to the house) a sort of yellowy-green color. We had lots of paint left-overs from some of our recent projects, and I just started mixing my own hue. It looks fabulous and matches the new green hydrangea almost perfectly. She was delighted to learn that the bench needed "two coats" and told passers-by of our "clothing" the bench. She also helped with the toy room this afternoon. She's getting to be quite the little painter girl. I love working with her.

Remind me to tell you about the new outdoor sconces I got for $2.95 each. I'm just hoping they look fab....I was thinking we were going to have to slap down at least $75 each for anything half-way decent. Photos forthcoming, promise. That blasted digital camera. Still busted.

Dreams Fulfilled

Before we moved to the Streng, I had this image of myself in a cute skirt, approximately 25 lbs lighter, pigtails and highlights, working in my kitchen with fun jazzy music playing--lots of light and windows. It's essentially a mock layout of a Real Simple article about my life, which ironically seems everything but real simple. But it's one of those beautifully composed, very deliberate moments. This image is just one instant--there are no words, I don't know exactly what I'm doing, and it's a rear view. But there is total happiness; I'm content with my life, I feel young, but mature (nearing 30 is really actually fun for me), funky, yet classy.

So today, with pigtails and highlights, not 25 lbs skinnier (but who cares--i've got my whole life)--a cute outfit (pants, actually), lots of light and windows in my kitchen--and a gentle breeze, I remembered my special image and realized that I am who I want to be, where I want to be, doing what I want to be doing (most of the time). Such is contentedness. Nothing's better than this.

What Work Is

Today, during the canning episode (see post below), I was thinking a lot about how work--physical AND mental makes me feel so valuable. I don't know how many times I've counted my 20 quarts (5 GALLONS!) of applesauce tonite. It's quantifiable. Jon has billable hours (not that I want to adopt that program any time in this lifetime). I have endless days. But today I have 20 quarts of applesauce and two girls who saw me happy and working all day. Leah even put on her apron (which mom made for me when I was a wee girl) and helped turn the crank of the strainer. She was chanting "squirt, squirt, squirt, fart!" about the noises the boiled apples were making as they were obliterated. She is such a Francis. But that's beside the point. I want to post some work poems:

To Be of Use

The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.

--Marge Piercy

I'll post the other work poem tomorrow. I have to go mop the stickiness of the floor before snoozing for the night.

Applesauce, Neighbors, Seasons

I am tired. I am sticky. There's a thin film of applesauce covering my kitchen; I just finished a long day of applesauce canning. There is nothing more fall-ish than making my homemade applesauce and "putting away" 20 beautiful quarts full of gloppy gold.

As I chopped, boiled, strained, and processed 80 lbs of apples into sauce today, I couldn't help but think of Diane Keaton in "Baby Boom" with her Country Baby applesauce. [I used to love that movie so much--I can even hear the theme song in my head right now. Do you remember when she first got the baby and was talking to her boss "Fritz" at the restaurant and her leg was shaking uner the table? Such a fine memory.] Estie was my country/city baby as she was one of the first enjoyers of the bounty. I loved spooning the still-warm sauce into her mouth--a mother bird to her baby.

We borrowed cinnamon from Monika, our German neighbor who hates cinnamon--she gave us the whole bottle--and Jon, Leah, and Esther delivered the only batch of cinnamonless apple sauce to her tonight while I was at Enrichment. I love having neighbor-friends new and old. Speaking of which, I went to good ole Greene Terrace yesterday with the girls to deliver House"cooling" invites to the old hood. I was lovingly greeted by Jill, Molly, Laurie, and Ashley. I'm so nostalgic; I almost felt like I would trade in my Streng just to be in their vicinity again. But now I've got Monika, June, Tony, Louise, and Joanne. And more neighbors who I haven't even met yet.

Now back to canning; I want to spend my life celebrating seasons with traditions and rituals. Applesauce feels like fall to me now as much as pumpkins and crisp leaves. I hope Leah and Esther tell their kids about the days when Grandma Chi Chi made applesauce all day long. And maybe it will be enough of a ritual in their lives that they'll continue it; but I guess that doesn't matter as much as the fact that it's my ritual--and it makes me happy.