Hey look at that, it’s Sunday morning, not Saturday morning! Whoops. Sorry. The Best Summer Ever is a big project, you all, involving lots of hot dogs and more beer than I’ve had in the last decade.
(Which is like two and a half beers in two days, in case you’re wondering. I’m not really a beer girl.)
So who won the container garden? (more…)
It’s hard these days not to obsess about the economy; we’re thinking more carefully about every dime, and we have friends who are really struggling, suddenly, just to get through the month. We’ve always tried to make the boys understand how very fortunate they are, and to see all of the things that they take for granted; in the past, this has mostly been stuff like a playroom full of toys and private school, but lately, we’ve been talking about things like food and shelter — the basics.
My kids have a hard time imagining what it would be like to be hungry — there is always food in our house, and the worst case scenario for them is having to eat what I am serving instead of a meal they have cobbled together out of kid food (cheese sticks and chicken nuggets and fish crackers). The idea that a family might not know where their next meal is coming from is completely baffling to them. (more…)
As part of my Best Summer Ever project, I’ve decided that I will make a sincere effort not to kill the things we have planted outside. I know that doesn’t sound like much, but for some reason, remembering to water the plants is a huge undertaking for me. I plant stuff every year and then completely forget to water, which is really an issue, you know? Because plants like water, it seems. Go figure.
Charlie and I planted flowers last weekend, but before that, we planted a wee little edible garden, with some help from Scotts Miracle Gro. As part of a program they’re calling “GroGood” (how cute is that?) they sent me all the components of a great little container garden, and Charlie and I went wild.
Small scale wild, of course. It’s a container after all, not 40 acres.
Thanks to Twitter (damn you, Twitter) I have gotten hooked on the Real Housewives of New Jersey. Those women are crazy. Crazy! Whoa.
I think we need a Real Housewives of Oklahoma City franchise, don’t you? Of course, it would pretty much just be Rita and me, sitting in her living room with the baby while the boys jumped on the trampoline with no shirts on, like something from Lord of the Flies (seriously, this happens ALL THE TIME around here). There might be wine; there would not be Botox. Or endless cleavage. Or any sort of pretend, over-the-top drama at all.
I think it would be a hit.
