Pink Prickly Pear

Friday in photographs #10

File under: What was I thinking.

It's county fair time.  I'm not a crowds person.  I'm not a rides person.  Yet today, after dropping off my mother-in-law at the airport (which you would think entitled me to a day in bed eating vanilla fudge and having my toes massaged) I elected to take mini-pear to the fairgrounds by myself.

Must tot up numbers.
$18 - admission for the two of us.
$9 - highway robbery parking
$14.50 - 20 ride tickets
$4 - french fries to consume while watching monster trucks
$3.75 - additional tickets required in order for us to both ride the ferris wheel
$4.95 - caramel apple stack

My nose is red and my feet are very, very tired.  I talked myself into this because someone asked if I'd take their child with us to the fair.  I hadn't even seriously considered going in the first place, but of course, once I mulled over the idea of taking two kids and said no to that, just taking my own on a Thursday afternoon looked like a most attractive alternative.  I just don't know why I didn't also consider laying next to the pool reading or something, because that definitely would have won out.

The way we were...

Eight years ago, we went and got ourselves hitched in Vegas.  Today we're older, hairier and there is more of us to love now.  Good thing the love is growing too.

Friday in photographs #10

I need a new camera card;(

the details

We were at the beach at 10 a.m. for a whittling class.  Mini-pear was so taken with this project that she came home and stabbed herself in the hand, not once, but twice. 

Between that, and the veracity of my friend (a.k.a. the Vanquisher of Pretty New Undergarments), the blood is flowing fiercely at our house.  And I had a viscous migraine last night.  They come out of nowhere.  I was sitting at the park, just chatting and all of a sudden I smell the smell (a rancid, bitter citrus-y smell) and realize I can't see half of my friend's face.  Had to pack up abruptly and get home.  The clock starts ticking with the smell.  I have almost 45 minutes to get home or somewhere I can lay in the dark for a few hours (uh, it pretty much just has to be home, really).

So this morning I felt most Victorian and swoony and sort of sweaty and hot and delicate-headed.  Sitting in the sand helped.  I was rejuvenated enough to try the fish burrito at Raul's and pick up a much needed guitar tuner/metronome combo.  Despite what Mr. Pear led me to expect, my fish burrito failed to meet my standards.  Very cold root beer, even if it was in a can, sort of made up for it. 

We returned Kiki's Delivery Service (which I like, but not enough to watch again this week) to the library and borrowed The Black Stallion (which I do not like enough to even watch once).  I also got a couple books on raw food, a Peter Berley cookbook (it has a recipe for roasted cherries in wine sauce!!!!!) and an arctic survival story (Ada Blackjack, back in the 1920's?  Never heard of her, but I like survival stories).

After the library, I wandered around the house, wondering how it got so messy and if it could stay that way just a little longer.  I decided it could and lay on the couch reading.  Mini-pear changed clothes for the third time and played on the computer until I took her down to the Y for her gym class, which naturally required yet another change of clothes.  I was supposed to go work out during her class, but (*swoon* the blood) I read my book and talked on the phone.  Back at home, I decided to just get on with it and clean up the debris of the last few days.  Then mini-pear stabbed her hand so there was much cuddling and bandaging and washing out of wounds (I suppose in reverse order than how I just wrote that, but if I keep deleting and rewriting the way I do I will never write an entry a day in this thing). 

Dinner - vegetarian slappy joes (not mis-spelled, that's just how we say it), beets (just steamed because mini-pear doesn't like them any other way) corn on the cob (got to use up that Costco butter somehow)

I did not go to Tai Chi (I'm sulking about the bondage thing) and Mr. Pear did not go buy the picnic table.  I'm being uncharacteristically (I hope) passive aggressive now so he will go and pick it up tomorrow. 

the way to my heart is through my stomach

Out with friends this morning.  Mini-pear and her friend, B, walk ahead just a little, holding hands, whispering little secrets, presenting each other with nature treasures.  They also have bouts of silly, boisterous, almost giddy behavior.  We see them a couple of times a week.  The kids get along, the adults get along.  It's lovely.  I make B's mom laugh - tears running down her face laughing.  This is a good sign because with so many people I feel like their dour great aunt or something.  My humor misses often, but I think it hits the mark with the people who matter.

Anyway, great minds think alike.  We sat by the waterfall to snack and sketch for a while.  C pulled out carrot salad for the kids - carrots, raisins and coconut flakes!  And for a treat, she had brought rice pudding with more coconut flakes!

We're totally destined to be BFFS 4evah now, aren't we?

Eat it on anything.

Flaked coconut is one of those things I buy and consume voraciously.  Then I forget to put it on the grocery list and it's out of my life, for six months or more, until some recipe specifically calls for it, or my wandering eye happens upon it at the store (that's how it came home with me this last time).

Coconutty goodness.  This morning I had fresh mango, banana, yogurt and muesli with a very liberal sprinkling of coconut.  Yesterday, it worked its way into a peanut butter banana sandwich and while cooking dinner, I helped myself to a handful all by itself.  I like it in smoothies, and on rice and in chocolate chip cookies and...the list goes on and on and on.

lazy lady

I'm so glad I insisted on a week's break between house guests.  I don't know what my problem is.  There is probably a name for someone who needs to wander blearily around the kitchen partially or completely nekkid for a significant portion of the morning.

The operative word for the weekend was malaise.  Nothing seemed to get accomplished.  Not that it really bothered anyone.  We meant to go on a hike, but didn't.  We meant to go see Pirates of the Caribbean, but didn't. I spelled Caribbean wrong four times before having to look it up.  Where's my spelling mojo?  We ate fish tacos and lay on the beach and potted some ferns for the shady front step.  Laundry was communally folded while watching Kiki's Delivery Service.  We went to Besta-Wan for happy hour and never bothered to eat a real dinner.

A lazy weekend is fine, but waking up at 8:28 on a Monday morning is not so fine. Homeschooling is happily evolving towards unschooling at Chez Pear.  I've got nothing but good things to report on that front, but there are unanticipated side effects we need to negotiate.  A happily occupied, self sufficient kid will make herself breakfast and create horsey headresses and read quietly on the couch and not notice that the parents, who previously relied on said child for the ubiquitous wake up call, are sound asleep well past a civilized hour.  Do I need to set an alarm?  Aside from the occasional early morning wake up required by a flight or other intrusion into my lackadaisical morning regime, I haven't used one for years.  I didn't have any intention of using one any time soon, but it's very possible I will have to.

Friday in photographs #9

I'm not here for the bondage.

Tai Chi tonight.  I was late, but not feeling fussed about it.  Lately, being late or early or bothering with schedules does not get my knickers in a twist.  I feel a little like I'm floating in a big pool.  Hmm.  Going with the flow, I guess.

At any rate, I love Tai Chi, or I love the first half of our Tai Chi sessions.  We stretch and do some warming up exercises.  We breathe and balance on one leg for ages.  We listen to some ambient Chinese music and go through the form and then we take a break and meditate (sometimes I get pretty close to actually meditating).  Sometimes, during the meditation, I hear T, our instructor, shuffling around.  I definitely do not meditate then.  I sit with my eyes closed tightly and try to not feel anxious about whatever he has planned for us. 

Today, when I opened my eyes, he was holding the big green belts.  I hate this activity.  You have to hold a belt around your partner's waist, while they do the form.  I always end up with some old man, right up against my rump.  The belts, I really detest, but to be honest, anytime I hear, "Get together with a partner..." it triggers some middle school gym class anxiety in me.

I want some no contact Tai Chi.