A Day Late (The Tuesday Three on Wednesday)
Amongst the casualties of my busier-than-expected summer is this blog. I keep chasing my tail (well, children and deadlines to be honest) and then, poor blog. I can’t quite keep up. The Tuesday Three arrives on Wednesday morning this week—and that sums up how this summer is going.
But hey, better late than never, right?
And I am headed to yoga class a bit later, so, in truth, no complaints about my busy, harried state—I am not giving in without a peaceful fight.
Three moments I loved this week, so far, that link to three things to note:
My friend Sarah let me glimpse her jam. I took a whiff. I want to make that. I am pretty sure at least half of my offspring will think it an amazing twist on peach. We communed over her tiny jar at the Woodstar on Monday morning and as I was leaving I heard a woman neither of us knew asking about Sarah’s jam. She dutifully walked over to the woman’s table to let her take a whiff and a peek.
I have peaches in my possession.
The second son wants to make peach jam with balsamic and basil. This sounds delicious, too. I am pretty sure my original idea will prevail; farm fresh hot peppers are in my possession, too.
At the Tuesday Market, I swung through early to procure peaches and berries—Ashfield-grown later summer strawberries, whoa—and I took photos of the most gorgeous flowers ever. I said to Missy, Old Friends Farm’s farmer, “I now know that if I were to plan my wedding over I’d choose this week solely because I would want those flowers.” She smiled broadly. “Tomorrow’s my wedding anniversary,” she told me. Yeah, because of those flowers! Then, she added, “But what were we thinking? We are always busy on our anniversary. We never even have time to go out to dinner.” I suggested a celebration six months out, on the half. We both glanced at her burgeoning belly. Six months hence, the anniversary will be the last thing on Missy’s mind. A bouncing baby will be on her mind. I told her, “Oh, your anniversary is over now anyway, pretty much forever! But for good reason.”
A few days ago, Saskia and Arella were reading together, and the snippet I overheard was Saskia’s confident storytelling voice: “And den (then), they ate cereal and rice milk.” Reinterpretation of what we read is, in its way, reading. So, to read Lisa Belkin’s riff off my essay—up now on Huffington Post—was rice milk and cereal to Jill Murphy’s Large Family, kind of a meta-cool moment for a writer.
I thought about an Olympics version of the Tuesday Three, because there’s so much to inspire: Gabby Douglas, Usain Bolt, and this quote by Missy Franklin: “I’m only 17. There’s no such thing as fatigue.” I think those are words-to-envy.