matching tracksuits

Conestee Summer Evening

Tuesday 24 June 2014

The Boy is fearless on his four-wheel scoot-along (what the heck is that thing?). He comes barreling down our driveway at dizzying speeds, velocities that can stop a parent’s heart, if only briefly until he beginsÂ braking by dragging his shoes.

The Girl roars down the driveway even faster on her scooter, but that’s less worrisome: she’s seven, after all. More coordination, more understanding of the risks (though that only seems theoretical at times).

This evening we decided to take them both to a local favorite park for a little workout of these skills.

The Boy, though, had other interests.

Still, we managed to get them both together for just a moment for a picture from the newest observation deck.

And then the Boy showed just how sweet he can be.

The Queen of England

Monday 23 June 2014

Sure, I’m just basing this claim off anecdotal evidence I’ve experienced in my own classroom, but I’ll make the claim nonetheless: today’s kids just don’t have the imagination of past generations. I base this on the experience of students in creative writing classes having nothing to write about, and when given help with discovering the wealth of topics that surrounds them, they usually wrote about video games or thinly veiled remakes of various films.

The scene that greets me almost every day arriving at school goes a long way in explaining this, I believe.

The Girl, at this point, doesn’t suffer from such a lack of imagination. She’ll take a blanket, old sheer for window treatments, and heavy winter gloves and declare herself the queen of England.

Dig!

Sunday 22 June 2014

Fifty Years in the Making

Saturday 21 June 2014

Pickles and Picnics

Friday 20 June 2014

The Boy has some strange tastes, some strange favorites: pickle juice is a favorite drink. Finish off a bottle of pickles -- the American, vinegary type -- and he'll jump on that bottle immediately.

The Girl has always had some strange tastes, too. It's only been in the last year that she's even ventured to try that favorite of American kids from coast to coast, the humble (and not-so-good-for-you) hot dog.

What to make to make of this? Nothing more than the obvious: kids too are individuals, and their tastes grow and change with time. For now, we're happy the Girl loves so many Polish soups and the Boy just loves everything. Likely to change, but for now, it's good.

Without the Girl

Thursday 19 June 2014

The Girl was out for most of the day. VBS in the morning (that's Vacation Bible School, not the inferior Microsoft scripting language) and a Nana/Papa day in the afternoon.

We boys hung out together in our fort,

rode our bikes.

Helping

Wednesday 18 June 2014

Na Oko

Tuesday 17 June 2014

“Ile czosneku dajesz?”

“Na oko, na oko.”

When you’re getting recipes from Babcia, they tend to take that turn. “How much garlic do you add?” you might ask. “Just eyeball it,” comes the reply.

How can I possibly eyeball it when I’ve never done it in my life? Dziadek taught me in a similar way how to prepare the brine for meat when preparing pork for smoking. It was actually experience that taught me that, in reality, the proportions don’t matter so very much as you might expect.

Given the fact that the instructions Babcia provided for making pickles roughly approximated the instructions Dziadek gave for making the brine, I just eyeballed it.

Dill, whole allspice, some garlic, bay leaves — the Polish basics. I decided to add some fresh oregano and basil, knowing it probably wouldn’t have any effect given the amount of other spices I was putting in the brine.

I’ve always loved pickles, but it was in Poland that I learned what a true pickle could be, not preserved in some vinegar solution but made in a brine that leaves behind the look and taste of raw cucumber but transforms it just enough that it’s not, well, raw cucumber.

Given the number of cukes we’re pulling off our vines every day this year, we knew fairly early in the growing season that this would be the year we finally learned how to make our own pickles. Such a simple process: some herbs, some salt water, some cucumbers, a ceramic pot, and a bit of gauze to cover it all.