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.)

Tuesday Travels: Pike's Peak!

Inspired by this post a few months ago, we decided to herd our brood up the slopes of Pike's Peak during our recent Colorado trip.

By "herd," we mean "seat them in a clean cog railway car, with food."

Behold the results.

Before embarking. Hot. Not sure why the boy has his jacket hanging from his head. 

Scenery glimpsed from open window as I read to my fascinated children about Pike's Peak history.

Fun fact: A small family actually lives about halfway up the mountain. They maintain the reservoirs and whatnot. They also drive seventeen miles to the nearest grocery store. They have no neighbor problems.

Breaking through the timberline for awe-inspiring vistas, and glimpses of whistling marmots. 

See the train in front of us? We traveled the same path. Fun fact: Every year Pike's Peak holds a marathon. As in, a 26.2 mile footrace, up to the top and back. Last year's champion ran it in 3:51. To put that in perspective, I ran a gently-rolling HALF marathon last winter in 2:35. 

Disembarking at the summit. Fortunately, we were prepared for the relatively-balmy 47-degree weather with warm jackets. The family from Dallas who sat across from us was not so fortunate. They, and other tank-top-clad travelers, had to huddle in the summit house eating donuts to stay warm. We took our donuts (homemade; scrumptious) to go and spent our allotted 35 minutes admiring the view. 

Did you know that Katherine Lee Bates composed the hymn "America the Beautiful" after descending from Pike's Peak (by mule and foot, I believe)? Standing there and gazing over purple mountains' majesties, watching the fruited plains stretch across state lines, you do almost feel you've glimpsed the shining sea, and it takes your breath away. 

If you go: The cog railway ain't cheap. Tickets are $34.50/adult and $18.50/child. To me, it was worth the extra expense because our travel philosophy places a premium on shared experiences. We don't stay in high-end hotels along the road, and we pack a lot of our own food. We don't buy the T-shirts, the souvenir postcard books, the tchotchkes. But we *will* splurge on a few worthy adventures, take lots of pictures, and reminisce about it. Because the years are short.

And we will also take a jacket. Just sayin'.

P.S. I've been thinking for a while of creating a separate blog for family travel-related posts. Not sure if they really fit in with the rest of this blog's random, miscellaneous content. Care to weigh in?

If I'm Thankful, Will It End Sooner?

Yes, I know. I've already managed to communicate on this blog something of my distaste for the Texas summer. Specifically, THIS Texas summer. This recordbreaking, triple-digits-every-day-since-May, unrelenting, drought-stricken, grass-crisping, summer.

But I've decided: enough with the whining. And although it's been a little while since I've done a 1000 Gifts gratitude post, it's time to buck up and give thanks. So, here we go, drawing a deep breath and offering up thanks for summertime in Texas ...



#245. Air conditioning. Dear pioneer foremothers: I bless you. I tip my hat to you. I kiss the ground on which your layers of skirts once trailed. I have no earthly idea how you survived. Amen.

246. Sunshine. It's been said -- possibly by me, and others in the know -- that the Texas summer is like the New England winter. Long. Unpleasant. Marked by much time spent indoors. And, true, in New England one can always put on more clothing, while in Texas ...  However. The true gremlin of the New England winter is not really the cold but the darkness. The four o'clock sunsets. The barren gray landscapes. The wan light, glimpsed from office windows. The mass Vitamin D deficiency. At least here, while huddling inside or walking one's dog early o'morning, there's foliage and color to drink in, plus the few rays of sunshine that penetrate the spots you missed with the sunscreen.


247. Water. We live in a city that's transversed by a river, divided into three lakes. We also enjoy natural springs, some of which run refreshingly cold. Water levels are low, thanks to the drought, but the larger bodies still offer cool respite.

248. Friends. When whining about the weather, it's always pleasanter in company. Sort of a call-and-response thing, dontcha know.

249. A break in the routine. Sometimes you just need an excuse to chuck the schedule and laze around with a book or neglected project. Or take your daughters to a classic movie in a vintage theater.

In the air conditioning, of course.

250. Thoughts of November. Like contractions during childbirth, no heatwave lasts forever.

(Sorry, cheating, but I'm afraid that's the best I can do. Please chime in if you've found something to be grateful for!)

Eleven Years Ago

Two days ago, my brother Paul became a father.

And it happened in the same hospital, in the same city, where exactly eleven years ago today, I became a mother.

Seeing the photos and following the Google+ updates as he and his wife, Betty, step over the threshold into a new life with tiny Charlotte Kate [daddy a student; mama putting him through, just as we were then] makes it seem impossible that only eleven years ago, that was us. Having arrived at the finish line of the pregnancy, bursting through the tape with a dramatic birth story, we were awakening to the fact that we had really only made it to the starting gate. In the grip of love and fear, our journey with our son began.

Just as theirs is now beginning.

When we left Brigham and Women's Hospital with our bundle in arms two days later, how could I imagine that eleven years would bring us here ... to this?

This boy is over halfway to official adulthood.

In two years, he'll be a teenager.

In five years, he'll have a license to drive.

He is a brown belt in tae kwon do.

He may not know it, really, but his best friend is his sister, who listens to everything he has to say (which is quite a bit) and loves him unconditionally.

He love Legos, Star Wars, and especially, Lego Star Wars.

He likes to have his dad around, and has stated as much.

He's quite artistic, with a distinct flair for the dramatic. (Including dramatic distaste for haircuts.)

He is learning perseverance, diligence, acceptance, table manners. All in due time.

And because of who he is, we are not who we were eleven years ago.

Welcome aboard, my brother.

And happy birthday, my son! 

Yes. What She Said.

"But marriage isn't perfect, any more than the rest of life is. I'm sure that you'll be married, too, one day, and when you are, you'll find out that it isn't a tidy little picture of one person meets another and they live happily ever after. It's two imperfect human beings coming together and scrambling and struggling and rough-and-tumbling their way through a lot of obstacles  … It's years of commitment and loving and making decisions and making jokes and cooking supper and saying the right thing and saying the wrong thing and making mistakes and forgiving each other for mistakes until over the years you find that, together, you've formed a great, big, wildly colored tapestry of a whole shared life." 

-The Little Women Letters

{... If I may suggest, a fun, humorous, poignant summer read with some absolutely dead-on sibling dialogue that might make your belly jiggle. I read it in one full day of our road trip, but it's not too breezy or fluffy. And it is by no means just about marriage. Over and out.}

Tuesday Travels: Colorado Escape

We went to Colorado with our relatives last week. Vail/Beaver Creek, with some stops along the way, to be precise. It was just okay.

NOT! It was actually a completely awesome trip, except for the part where my tailbone went numb on the loooooooong drive home. We ran into several fellow haggard heat refugees Texans along the way.

We hiked.
We biked.
We skated.
We swam.
We rafted the rapids.
We ascended Pike's Peak (more in a future post).
We camped in Palo Duro Canyon and saw the TEXAS! musical drama*.
We watched old home movies of Caroline taking her first steps.
We played Pickles to Penguins.
We laughed a whole bunch.

Of course, it's ultimately not about the things we're doing together, but about the being together while we do them.

And all too soon, just as my brain cells were awakening from their summer torpor and starting to fire off some creative energy, it was time to come home.

Thank You, Lord, that we have somewhere to come home to. 

Recharging

Hello friends!

This is just a quick post to say that I probably won't be posting much, if anything, this week. We are recharging our batteries right now somewhere where it is not one hundred degrees every. single. day. Ergo, I am out of my writing routine, unable to download photos from my camera, and trying to minimize time online in favor of reading, soaking in my surroundings, and reveling in general lack of productivity.

But I miss you, love you, appreciate you, and will catch you in a few days. Sound good?