Fiddleheads and Beer Helmets

Our annual trek to upstate Maine has come and gone. We are back home with our laundry done, dog and cat reunited (sorry Rosie), and lots and lots of fiddle heads. You may recall that last year was my virgin voyage to pick fiddle head ferns, a northern delicacy that I'm not all that sure I actually enjoy eating. People up north sure do love 'em. All of them. Every person in Maine, I'm pretty sure. Yup. To me, they look intriguing, taste very... green, and I know they are definitely expensive if you buy them in a store. This year we all went out to pick and we have brought home enough to freeze for the winter. So we can have them all.... year.... long. Seriously, they aren't bad, really, I'm just not sure I love them. I've taken a casual poll of up-northerners and every one I asked really does, in fact, savor them. Even our 7-year-old nephew requests them and when told that they are on the dinner menu, will utter a "yesss!" to announce his approval.

Along with the gift of fiddle heads, I received another kind of gift from my new bestest friend in the whole wide world, Nat! Some of you may know that I've had a hankerin' for a beer helmet for quite some time now. Interestingly, I haven't received one for a Christmas gift, birthday gift, or even a gag gift. Nothing. I really did want one. Our first night up north, as the festivities were kicking off, someone mentioned my pining for a beverage hat. Nat piped up that she, in fact, had one I could use! After screaming in delight and running to retrieve a fresh brew for the inaugural sip through the straw, I had achieved my goal! I had a beer helmet. I was also being a total dork. Note that I did not include a picture of myself in said helmet. Partly, this is because I don't have a shot from that night on my own camera, and party because I'm not that stupid to post a ridiculous picture of me for all of you to laugh at. By the way, Nat, I forgot my hat in the garage, don't think I don't love it, I just failed to remember to bring it home!

Anyhoo, like I said, we're home and we are back to grind. Snore. I'm off to go measure how tall my pea plants are now.

My Little T-Baller

On May 3rd, my big beast started t-ball. It had to be the most adorable thing ever! He is having a blast and Rob and I are already understanding how parents get so into their children's sports. I was hooting and cheering, and then groaning to myself as about six wee children tackled the ball in a huge pig pile. I think in a small way we are actually surprised that we produced a child who would have an interest in a sport of any kind. We are such non-sporty people, where did this budding athlete come from? Fear not, though, I haven't begun fighting other parents on the side line or shouting obscenities yet. Yet.

Hot Rod

Mother's Day this year was such a nice treat. I felt spoiled from the moment my bunch barrelled into the bedroom with heart shaped Weight Watchers toast and gifts and big smiles. Sure, the dog did an acrobatic leap through the air and secured the heart toast in one swoop, but the thought was pure gold and I felt loved. Among the heartfelt, hand made gifts was a painted flower pot filled with seeded soil (that amazingly made it all the way home from school in Max's backpack!!) and a paper tea cup with a tea bag in it and homemade cards. I also received a really big treat: My very own, very first, PINK fishing pole! After getting the boys and Rob set up for fishing this spring, and happily watching them go at it, it occurred to me that I might, in fact, like to fish. So, Rob was sweet to purchase me my own license and rod. I am now the proud owner of a Lady Shakespeare rod in a pearly pink. Here I am after getting back from Dean Pond Mother's Day. I even was brave enough to bait my own hooks! Nice rod, eh?