Summer Coffee Deliciousness

I finally got around to learning how to make iced coffee this week. The good news: The learning curve is short and gentle. The bad news:

Um ... There is no bad news.

Here's how to do it.

Assemble two Mason jars. (Any containers will do, but I have a thing for Mason jars.)

Using Mason jar #1, follow these instructions from Small Notebook the night before you actually want to drink the stuff. So easy, y'all. Deep breath. You can do this.

Then, kick it up a notch by making a simple mint syrup, as follows:

• 1 cup water
• 1 cup sugar (use organic if you can. You'll feel better about it.;-))
• Combine in a pot, bring to a boil, and then simmer. DO NOT walk away and try to do other things  while bringing your sugar solution to a boil or you will end up with a smoky kitchen. Sugar solution boils wicked fast. I learned the hard way. 
• Add a smidge of peppermint extract. If you think I used an actual measuring spoon, we must be strangers. A smidge, people. That's all I can tell you. Oh, and if you're really cool, you could probably use fresh mint from your garden. We don't have them garden things here in the Land of the Infinite Drought. 

OK! Fast forward to the next day. You've steeped your coffee, you've strained it through a cheesecloth into Mason Jar #2, and you're rarin' to go. (Edited to add: I don't add the extra cup of water that Rachel at SmallNotebook suggests, because the ice and milk dilute the coffee enough to my personal taste.) Now, rinse out Mason Jar #1. Fill it about one generous third full with the coffee. Add the ice. Add some milk of your choice. Add mint syrup to taste. Again, start with a smidge. You can always add more, but you can't really take it away, know what I mean? 

Screw the lid on the jar and shake it all up. 

Ta da! Stick a straw in it and enjoy! 

(Note: In a perfect world, I'd have some stellar food photography shot, unmarred by the jaundiced cast of yellow formica. 

This is not a perfect world. 

And we'll just have to be okay with that.)

Marble Painting

Here's an all-ages art project for the dog days of summer (don't even get me started about how much more of summer we have to endure here in the netherworld of Texas). It was field-tested in my house by five children who ranged in age from ten to four, and was a hit all around.

Look! I'm so nice, so generous and giving, that I'm even providing you with a pretty shoddy picture of the artists in action. Bonus: broken screen door in background.

Gather your supplies: paint*, marbles (buy a cheap bag at the craft store), a pad of oversized watercolor paper (use that 40% off coupon; those babies are expensive!), and some sort of tray. If you use, say, 11x14 paper, a cookie sheet with edges might do the trick. We used bigger paper so I directed the Professor to create some huge cardboard trays out of a big box we had lying around. "Your wish is my command, O Queen," he said cheerfully. Or something like that.

Dip your marbles in paint. Plop them on the paper one by one and start rolling and tilting your tray. Or, you can use several marbles all at once and really stir up some craziness!

Ta-Da! Wall Art of which Jackson Pollock would be proud.

By the way, in case you haven't already discovered it, The Crafty Crow is a fantastic place to grab last-minute craft ideas. I use it regularly for my own kids and my Sunday School class; in fact, the marble painting idea was doubtless nabbed there. Hooray for artsy people sharing their nifty ideas!

(* edited: TEMPERA paint)

Strawberry Delight

I have a conundrum for you. Let's say that, theoretically and hypothetically, you went to a STRAWBERRY farm to pick lots of STRAWBERRIES. Let's say that about forty five minutes into the picking, after your perspiring mother had told you three times not to throw any more STRAWBERRIES at your siblings or friends, that that same mother decided that everyone had had quite enough ninety two degree sun, thank you, that her poor mama-friend looked kind of miserable sitting amid the rows of STRAWBERRIES and nursing her cranky baby, and that it was time to retreat to the shade, eat lunch, and purchase a nice, cold, refreshing treat.

Let's say that your choices, all homemade on the farm, were as follows: STRAWBERRY lemonade. STRAWBERRY popsicle. STRAWBERRY ice cream. And vanilla ice cream. What would you choose?

Would you care to consult these four nincompoops for guidance?

I'm thinking of taking them all (Ian's friend included) to the nearest neurologist to have their brains scanned for gross abnormalities. Just sayin'.

In other news, we went strawberry picking last week! We had a wonderful time!

Strawberry bushes, it turns out, are a lot like people. Gently push aside the external foliage and you'll find lots of beauty flourishing underneath. 

Over the weekend, I was able to make the Professor a super delicious strawberry shortcake layered birthday cake. I reduced the sugar and made it gluten-free using Pamela's baking mix instead of flour and eliminating the leaveners. If you have any strawberries on hand, please drop everything you're doing right now and go make this cake. It's positively vital to your life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness. Thank you.

Caroline and I also made freezer jam following Katie's easy recipe. It was my first foray into jam-making, and all I can say is, if I can do it, YOU CAN TOO. Just channel your homesteading ancestors, roll up those sleeves, and tie on your most charming apron.

(But if it doesn't work out, I can tell you where to get a good dish of homemade vanilla ice cream.)

Speaking of Ma Ingalls ...

The Professor has decided that he is comfortable enough with his manliness to allow me to share his latest accomplishment.

But first, look at this:

See? Very manly. Are we all agreed?

So, moving right along, he has, or HAD, this gigundous stack of T-shirts. So abundant that often, I could barely close the drawers when putting away clean laundry. It's been an issue in our marriage from the very beginning. But we don't need to get into that. That's what therapy is for.

Yesterday, no doubt inspired by a surge of love for me, he decided to purge the stack. Helen of Troy's face launched a thousand ships; mine launches about ten T-shirts.

But sharing my abhorrence for waste, he didn't want to do something so dastardly as throwing them all away. And we have more than enough cleaning rags, thankyouverymuch. So, are you ready for this?

HE CUT THEM ALL INTO STRIPS AND BRAIDED THEM INTO A RUG. And, at her request, a jumprope for Caroline.

And tomorrow, he'll begin a three-day walk, just like Ox-cart Man, to the nearest city to sell our wares.

Or not.

My favorite holiday

Today we're making this*:

Directions here. Adapted for the four gluten-avoidant folks who will be present at tomorrow's feast.

And this.

Directions (and a much cooler version) here. Ours will go on the mantel out in Elgin tomorrow.

And this.

Directions (and again, a lovelier version) here.

Oh, and putting new spark plugs in the van. Good times, good times.

Since we'll probably be busy with cooking, reading our Thanksgiving picture books, riding bikes, and general gluttony tomorrow, I just wanted to note how thankful I am for ALL of you who read this crazy little blog, especially those of you who take a moment to encourage me by leaving a comment (but if you don't, sniff sniff, I'm still thankful for you) -- it means a whole lot to me. May your Thanksgiving time be filled with wonderful tastes and smells, family and friends who make you feel loved, memories to cherish, and a sense of overflowing gratitude.

And not too much football. But that's just me.

xoxoxoxo

*Photo courtesy of Simply Recipes.

I made this (and you can too!)

Seriously. I really did. Try not to collapse in a faint.

Not only the outfit, but the model inside. Of course, I had quite a bit of help with that one.

Which brings me to my point. Ahem.

How Sewing and Childbirth are Alike:

1. Childbirth is laborious work.

Sewing is laborious work.

2. Childbirth mystically connects you to millions of women who have traveled this earth before you, drawing you into its productive sisterhood. [Note: I remember thinking this very thing as I paced my front lawn under the stars, laboring to bring forth Eliza.]

Sewing (for one's children, especially) mystically connects you to millions of women who have traveled this earth before you, drawing you into its productive sisterhood.



3. When childbirth is accomplished [and considerable time has elapsed], you're so entranced by the cuteness of the finished product that you forget the words "NEVER AGAIN!" and start to think, "Hey, maybe I could do this again!"

When the sewing is accomplished, you're so entranced by the cuteness of the finished product that you forget the words "NEVER AGAIN!" and start to think "Hey, maybe I could do this again!"


4. After childbirth, you can't help but marvel at the tiny, detailed perfection of what you have wrought.

Um. Sewing is also a pastime.



[Time to give credit: directions for the skirt can be found here, complete with photos. T-shirt was made using a pumpkin stencil, fabric scraps, and something called Wonder Under. Can't help you with how the girl was made. Most of y'all are moms (I think). You've figured it out. Let me know if you make the skirt, though!]

Hannah Bandana

Because I have the sewing skills of, like, an octopus, I was super happy to discover this recipe for super easy, super cheap, and -- according to my child-size models -- super stylin' -- bandana pants.

Eliza got the first pair. Total cost of materials: $2.00. Total time: 45 minutes.

Ian became mildly jealous and requested a pair. You got it, buddy.

(Caroline is still waiting for hers.)

So then my niece really, really wanted a pair. And she's about a size 12. So I started pinning about three hours before her birthday party, and realized I needed to run to Hobby Lobby and buy a third bandana. Of course, HL was out of that particular pattern, and I decided to kick things up a notch and go for a combo of fuschia/white polka dots and yellow bandana print (cooler than it sounds, I promise). I hurried home, washed it out in the sink, threw in the dryer for preshrinkage, and began hastily cutting and sewing, not really pausing to consult the directions on how much of a, um, crotch to cut out (yikes, that sounds like it belongs on another kind of blog). Got all the stitching done save the elastic waist, held up the shorts, and ... PERFECT!

... for an Oompa Loompa with saddle sores, that is.

If only I had a photo of this particular masterpiece. Or a photo of me rolling on the floor laughing at the sight.

I think we'll be sticking to the basics from now on.

Now go forth and sew!

Maker kids

I may have mentioned, a time or two, what a fan I am of simple crafts one can produce with the children by pulling a few things together from around the house. Ensemble trips to JoAnn or Hobby Lobby aren't the best way for us to spend our time, mostly because neither I nor the kids can make it through the store without desiring at least ten things other than the one thing we came for (let's call it Wal-Mart Syndrome). I'm pretty good about saying "no" (to self and them) but still, I always end up at the counter, hearing our grand total, and thinking, "Really? Fifteen dollars and eighty five cents? But all I came in for was a two-dollar package of large white buttons! Guess we'll be skipping lunch this week." (I exaggerate. That's why God made PB&J.)

But all you need for this particular hour of entertainment is a package of coffee filters, a spray bottle of water, a few clothespins or pipe cleaners, and some markers.

Step One: Color the filter, any way you please.

Step Two: Mist with water, watching colors run together and exclaiming about their beauty.

Step Three: Dry.

Step Four: Attach clothespin or pipe cleaners as "antenna." Color antenna, if you desire.

Optional Step Five: Combine butterflies into a mobile or string from the pull chain of a ceiling fan.

It's Magic!

And then, if you live in Austin and you're up for an outing that doesn't involve heat, head for the Children's Museum, where the Maker Kids feature exhibit is in full swing. Plenty of hands-on sunshine, headed your way.

The world's longest paper chain

I would love to fill everyone in on the lovely birthday party my dear family held for me yesterday, but unfortunately I'm feeling rather unwell tonight. Very tired, upset stomach, etc. Instead, I present for your viewing pleasure ... Five Children and It! No, not the Nesbit book, but a project undertaken by my five children-and-nieces, to set a world record for the longest paper chain. You can probably guess who was cracking the whip on this particular effort. I have some deep thoughts about why children engage in this kind of challenge, but those musings will have to wait until the tsunami in my belly subsides. Enjoy!