let the wild rumpus begin

Remember this? Well, my Dad decided that an unexpected visit was just the thing for all of us and WOOSH, here he was the very next day! We have plans to eat and shop and go to the beach A LOT. Posting may be light, but I have so much to show and tell. A great party and some stuff crankin' out of the bluerainroom coming up!

Everyone is thrilled, including Lucy the hound, who really seemed to discover Dad's presence about 5 hours after he arrived and only then started zooming around the house, biting his feet to entice him to play.

"greek dancing is very movemental, you know"

What a flurry of activity yesterday and what a fun evening. We have wonderful neighbors, and they were kind enough to step in and care for our pup for almost two weeks during our trip to Greece last month. What else could we do but host a Greek Night (Opa!) as a thank you.

We spent the day shopping. This is our local Middle Eastern grocery/restaurant. They had tons of Greek stuff that I thought would be tricky to get.

I cooked. AACK! Look at that mess! At one point I had every burner engaged. Neel is the chief dishwasher around here, and I even tried to call him to say, "Come and do my dishes!!" Interesting that he didn't answer his phone.

Callum cleaned...here he is giving Buddha a bath.

Thank-you gifts and ouzo with pineapple waiting to be drunk.

Even though it was a casual evening, we used Neel's mother's dishes, which I adore. They are Limoges, and we have almost the full complement. When I have time and money, I'll start searching out the setting and try to fill in the few blanks that we have.

I love setting the table for a nice dinner. This was my job as a child, and it stuck (although Neel frequently comes behind me to put the knives and forks in their proper place.) Soon I'm going to do a whole post about my dining room and dining room table. Now, settle down, it won't be right away. Still, I bet you can't wait to read that one.

Folks started arriving around 6 for mezedes and cocktails. Usually we see each other more in the summer, this is very much a front-yard kind of place, but we've all been busy, and it's nice to catch up. Lucy was wreathed in smiles and wagging tales. So glad to see everyone. It was as if we had the party for her alone.

The menu was pretty simple. I made Greek Salad, of course, pastisio and Greek-style green beans. All the rest were dips and spreads...I'm learning. And Mythos! Oh Mythos, how we loved you at lunch every day on our trip. I was thrilled to find it while I was shopping yesterday.

The babies were good. The grown-ups got full, and we all (well, almost all) danced.

My social son never ceases to amaze me. Neel and I hold our own at a party, and we've had some good ones here. Still, we prefer it quieter, more intimate. A couple of couples for dinner, just a quiet evening with a few friends. Not Callum. His heart soars when the house is full of people and kids. He shines in a crowd, unafraid to stand up and be seen and heard. Bossy only child, most insistent about getting us to dance, to move, dragging us into his orbit. I think it was after he'd danced around a Capri Sun pouch in lieu of a wine glass that he said it. "Greek dancing is very movemental, you know." We know. He's still crashed out asleep, worn out from all the fun.

she makes one pavlova and suddenly she's a baker

First off, before we start baking cakes or knitting sweaters, let me say a ginormous THANK YOU for your comments on Callum's post. He was a smiling blur of happiness after each and every one. I wish I could show you...

It was too hot for the beach and there was not enough time for a movie, so we turned on some Dan Zanes and broke out some cookbooks.

We picked the Upside Down Pear Cake from Eat, Drink, Live. The more I play around with this cookbook, the more I like it. I don't really like cooked fruit...seriously, the only reason to eat cobbler is for the crust, but I was intrugued by the twist of using pears instead of pineapple. The recipe also said it was a good one to make with kids, so I was sold. We weren't disappointed.

We used red bartlet pears, and since Callum's idea of baking involves knives, after he greased the pans, he halved, cored and sliced them for me.

What amazes me about this picture is that those hands look so, so big. They could be my hands. Big kid.

Things always get dicey at this stage of baking in our house. Callum is allergic to raw eggs. It was a disasterous introduction to raw cookie dough (isn't that just a shame?) and then the aforementioned Grandma Mercedes thumbprint cookies, namely the egg wash, that clued us into this particular quirk of his. so I have to do all of the egg-y parts alone. Could be why we don't bake much around here. Callum sits across the kitchen. Waiting. Worried. He was fine.

After creaming together sugar, butter and eggs, you fold in flour and milk.

You pour the batter over the pears and bake for about 45 minutes.

It comes out looking like this. Smells like heaven, too.

We had to get to karate, so we put a lid on it and headed out. I thought the cake was pretty cool when I put it on the cake plate, but see how steamed up it is? It's been hot here, no question.

I had a late meeting last night, so we bypassed dessert in favor of breakfast. It may not have been a photographic success, but it was definitely a baking success. Not terribly sweet which pleased Neel (his lack of a sweet tooth may be another reason why not much baking is done around here), and not too much mushy fruit, which pleased me. And I loved the delicate flavor of the pears. The sweetest part was the sweetened whipped cream on the side. The recipe calls for 3T of milk, and I almost wonder how it would be to subsitute some pear liquer...just to enhance that pear-y flavor.

Not a bad way to start the day! New plate love too...pear green despite our red bartlets.

It's a new day, washed clean with some seriously huge storms (that I had to drive through after my meeting) last night. The hood comes tonight for Greek Night, and Callum and I have a lot to do to get ready.

In knitterly news, I got my KnitPicks Shine Sport yesterday, cast on last night and worked the first row this morning. I have some reservations about the Shine Sport. I don't mind working with it, but in the projects I've used it on in the past, it just feels, I don't know, ropey. I think I'll like the stitch definition though. Elizabeth's over at amingledyarn is just lovely. Go check it out. She's the one who inspired me in the first place and she has some links to other Jos. This is only adult-sized sweater #2 for me, so it's not going to be nearly as nice, I'm sure. Can't help myself though! I'll keep you posted.

That, the Somewhat Cowl from The Garter Belt and some supersecret sewing projects ought to keep me busy for awhile.

guest author

Hi. This is Callum. This is me. Here I am in the bluerainroom. I am in my space helmet so I can put my face on the blog. I took some pictures yesterday and my mom is letting me post her blog today. She's typing what I tell her to say. I am giving Lucy, my dog, a biscuit. Here are some pictures of the slideshow.

This is Lucy's bowl of biscuits.

Here it is with the top off and with the biscuits inside.

Here I am getting a biscuit.

I am handing Lucy a biscuit.

She goes and eats her biscuit. She likes it!

After I gave Lucy her biscuit, I got in her crate. It was tiny inside. I can't believe I fit.

Lucy was concerned when I got in her crate. She came and looked in the window. It was very funny.

I like taking pictures. Finally I got to post on my mom's blog. I'll post again later. Good-bye!

deep purple someone

We're entering the season of birthdays around here, so expect a few more posts along these lines. Today is my Grandma Mercedes' birthday. My mom's mom. She would have been 92. She died in August, three years ago, just over a month after turning 89.

She made all of her grandchildren quilts. I'm the youngest grandchild and my quilt had been sent out to be finished (she did the cross-stitching and had someone else do the quilting and binding.) when she got sick. She never saw it finished, and at her funeral so many of her friends (the church ladies) were so sorry that they didn't have it for me. I went back to her hometown the following month to help my mom finish packing up her apartment and the quilt was waiting for me. It felt good to have it happen that way, connecting me with her even after she was gone.

She was an amazing cook and baker - the kind who could taste a dish and tell you what was in it. Her corn pudding ("makes a nice dish to take to a pot luck") is not to be believed. Thank God I have the recipe because it made our neighbor Tyler nearly swoon. Next time I make it, I'll post the recipe so you can swoon too. No peach cobbler was made without extra crust for piecrust cookies, and I make her thumbprint cookies every year at Christmas.

I have quite a few of her things and use them a lot. The juicer that's been (I think) featured here and above I use at least once a week.

When packing up her apartment, my mom and I had a minor battle over who got this pitcher. We'd left it undecided, but when all the stuff I chose was shipped to me and the pitcher was inside, I was thrilled. It gets a lot of use around here too.

This painting of my dad's, which now sits on my mantle, hung in her dining room for years. I love that it's his and hers and now mine. It symbolizes to me how much she loved and accepted my dad (a hippie artist!) for who he was.

She was the only child of distantly affectionate parents (making Callum a 4th generation only) and as a little girl she survived this.

When her husband (my maternal granddad) developed rheumatoid arthritis and had to stop working, she did some research and opened a children's clothing store called The Weathervane Shop. Her shop thrived (and paid the bills) for years. I could expect Christmas and Easter dresses from her every year. I'm sure that's a big part of why I love clothes so much (you'll have to tune back in for a post on my Grandma Charlotte to see another big part!)

She was a staunch democrat and would be thrilled to have Barak Obama as her senator. He was elected the year she died, and it's a shame she didn't get to vote for him. Her faith guided her feelings, both political and personal, and she encouraged her daughter (my mom) to join their minister at the March on Washington for civil rights. Didn't someone make a speech there? It was 1963, I think...

Once mad at a story about a boy who "done me wrong" (my first hint never to date Steves), she told me that she'd tell him to "goose it up his ass."

One year, I was a tween maybe, some cousins were visiting me, and my slightly older cousin Jennifer and Grandma and I shared a room. Someone (not me, of course) let loose this little fart that sent Jennifer and me into fits of giggles. Perhaps she decided to teach us some clearly lacking decorum, so Grandma trotted out the phrase, "pass gas." We'd never heard it before, but oh my GOD, way, way funnier than "fart." The room would go quiet until someone would whisper "pass gas," and all three of us would be sent off into giggles again.

Animals loved her. They sense a kindred spirit, I think. We had one fierce attack-Australian Shepherd growing up who barked her dang-fool head off if someone even thought about our front door and made it tricky for me to have friends over. My Grandma would show up after a six-month absence, and Molly would turn into a wagging, licking, wreathed-in-smiles tub of love. That kind of love worked for her great-granddogs too. When Neel and I moved to California, we drove our sheltie-border collie mix Phoebe across the country with us, stopping in Illinois on the way. Grandma had a bird named Ditto at the time who had free-rein of the house. When we ran into some hotel trouble (were dogs allowed?), she grew indignant and said, "Well, she can stay here..." That sentence has turned into a declaration of love in my family.

These are photos of our guest room. We call it the lavendar room around here. It's a sweet room, (I hope) cozy and restful the way a guestroom should be. My grandmother's favorite color was purple, and it wasn't until after her death that I realized that so much of that room reflected her. The bed and dresser were hers, the painting over the bed came to me when she died. When I went to put the quilt on the bed, I was terrified to discover a pee stain...probably Phoebe, I don't think it's been on the bed since Lucy got here. Gingerly I washed it, thinking that of all people, Grandma wouldn't mind. She'd be glad Pheebs got some comfort for her old bones on that bed.

But here's my favorite story about my Grandma. When Neel and I were getting engaged, he was in graduate school and we were poor, poor, poor. Grandma Mercedes gave us a ring to use as an engagement ring. We'd designed a wedding ring for me that was fairly clunky and didn't look good with a solitare, so our plan was to wear the engagement ring and take it off once we were married. I wore my wedding band alone for the next eight years. The day after she died, I was home making plans, buying plane tickets and packing. I took a time out to try to settle down and watch some tv, but my nervous energy had me fussing (as it usually did) with my wedding ring. It felt funny. Like I had a crumb caught up under it. When I turned it over to investigate the band was snapped in half. As clear as anything I heard, "Wear my ring." I'm not surprised, she could often be pissy and alternately bossy (just ask my mom). So I did what she said. Took my wedding band off, put on her ring, and Neel and I decided to get a new wedding band to match. So I wear her ring. (And Dad, the fact that I can't get a decent picture of those rings is why I want a new camera!)

I love this picture of her. It was taken about four years ago, on our move back across the country. It really captures her, I think. We were at a restuarant (what was the name of that place, mom?) in a state park that served amazing food like fried chicken, green beans, corn and pudding. We were all together...my mom and dad, my aunt, all my cousins and their spouses and her two great grandsons. What a gift that must have been. When she died, all of the grandchildren had the same thought and brought their copies of this picture. It's her.

This morning Callum asked if I was sad, and I said no, not really. It's nice to think about her and remember her. I'm glad I get to do that here. Happy Birthday, Eyeore.