Al fresco cooking

 Is it shameful to be constantly tapping my children for blog fodder? Thankfully, someone in the household still has time to be creative. It isn't me, that's for sure. But I would miss the act of blogging sorely, so you'll have to indulge me. And today, it is worth it. Because there was something very special happening in the garden.

Mark's friend Chloe came to play after school, bringing with her this gem of a book. And what marvels it contains.

No supermarket is as well-stocked as a forest, a sand dune, or your own backyard, and everyone knows that dolls dote on mud, when properly prepared. Invite everyone, for Pencil Sharpener Pudding, Dandelion Souffle, Wood Chip Dip, and, of course, Mud Pies.

I knew as soon as I saw it, that we needed a copy. It is utterly charming and funny for the way in which all the recipes are presented so seriously.

FRIED WATER
Melt one ice cube in a skillet by placing it in the sun. When melted, add 1 cup water and sauté slowly until water is transparent. Serve small portions, because this dish is rich as well as mouth-watering.

Unfortunately, it is out of print and has proved a bit tricky to track down. But  for something so enchanting, it was worth the effort.

Hors d'oeuvre anyone?

Regression

 

The last time I owned a pair of Converse I was fifteen. They were red. It was a very good time. Who doesn't occasionally fall in love with red footwear?  Right Julie? Right Beki? Right Zoe?

But lust is another matter entirely. There should be a specific term for shoe lust. Because when I first saw this Camilla Engman version, that's what I had. Sadly, it seemed unless I was prepared to have them shipped trans-Atlantic, they were not to be. And then, on Tuesday,  they appeared. Issuing their siren song from the window of Schuh. Did you notice that little UK purchase friendly link? I'm nice sometimes.

Want another one? Try this. It shouldn't really surprise me that there is an entire site devoted to teaching you alternative methods to lace your shoes. But somehow it does.  'Scuse me, off to test out some variations for optimum comfort. 

114 days

 The calendar seems to be playing tricks on me. Tail end of April? Already? That is almost a third of the way through the year. The days flying by. But this year, thanks to Project 365 and Six One Way, I at least feel I have a visual record of them.

More scary, might be a written log (Capello's doing one this week). I'm not so sure I want to recall my days that clearly!

And exhale

 Back to school day (for Mark at least). Johnny has a couple of Inset days,  which have caused much hilarity. When I explained to him why he was not going back on the same day as Mark, he must have mis-heard me. Insect? Inset? What's the difference when you're only 4.

    J:  Mama, I'm not going to school today am I?
    Me:  No. Remember, I told you?
    J: Yes, I have a bug day.

There are great things about the holidays (not least the lack of morning scramble), but a secret part of me relishes the return to routine when everyone is back at school. Of course, feeling relieved about getting rid of the little darlings also makes me feel somewhat less than Earth-Motherly . Hence the need for extra good lunchbox treats.

Apricot and almond yogurt coated bites.

Very simple and perfect for assuaging guilt.

Funny feet

 Do all men have unphotogenic feet or is it just mine? Hubby's socks (my second pair) got finished this weekend and I've been attempting to get him to model them for a photo opportunity, but to no avail. This was his idea of an arty pose.

There is no hope.

So my next knitting project is for me. Inspired by this. I've cast on.

Toothpick Engineering

 Do you ever see a project here in blogland and know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you will be giving it a whirl?

Looking at The Small Object's epoxy scultures yesterday and reading about their marshmallowy inspiration had me scurrying for the toothpicks almost immediately.

We substituted playdough as the bonding element - bluetack probably would have been a better choice, but no matter how much of the stuff I buy, it always seems to disappear round these parts. Most of it resurfaces as little black patches where it has been ground into the carpet. Small boys and interior decor are not a marriage made in heaven. I will have clean carpets when they leave home -  a treat I am looking forward to greatly.

Mark, in his typical 'unable to execute any project as originally envisaged by an adult' way, went off piste in his rendition of the Eiffel Tower. He then proceeded to conduct seismic testing (shaking the table until his structure toppled over). You have to imagine the whole episode, accompanied by never ending monologue, describing what he is doing in the manner of a documentary voice over. What a child. He's clearly been watching too much 'Big, Bigger, Biggest'.

Oh and guys? Thanks so much for the toothpaste appreciation!

The work-craft balance

 This is still a craft blog of sorts, honest. Despite a lack of evidence recently. But I have finished making a small batch of things, albeit new-job-related. It's not quite Heidi Kenney, but I am stupidly proud of that tube of toothpaste. And Mark and Johnny want due credit for the yellowfication of the little bear.

These are part of a set of props to accompany a book called Wobble Bear Says Yellow, for the Mostly Books Storybugs sessions which begin on Friday. These are for very small children and their carers to enjoy some great book related fun. Because you just can't catch the Reading Bug too young.

Working at Mostly Books probably means that I shouldn't be relied on for a totally unbiased opinion of what a fantastic shop it is, but clearly others feel similarly. Because Mostly Books has been shortlisted for the British Book Industry Awards 'Booksellers Association New Bookshop of the Year'.

Now there's just the gauntlet of the Mystery Shopper to run -  I'm frantically re-visiting the  customers I served on Saturday. Could it have been the nice lady who wanted to know about Persephone Books (easy to wax lyrical about)? The woman who  wanted help to encourage her husband to eat sprouting seeds? Or perhaps even the girl who was on a scavenger hunt and wanted a book with a picture of the White Horse on the front - we found her one!

The tale of Tommy Thumb

 Johnny asked this morning, "Is it true? Daddy says we are banned from A&E". Not strictly true, but I appreciate the sentiment. This was the evidence of the latest visit (a fortnight or s0 ago).

The result of attempting to cut a door in a box too sturdy, with a pair of my very sharp scissors. Not less than 2 minutes after I suggested that he should ask his Dad to do it  (I was in the bath at the time).

Poor Mark - I confess I felt really irritated with him for not listening to my warning until through the tears he wailed "I feel so stupid". Oh, the guilt.  

You see, he has SPD and really struggles with his fine motor skills. Unfortunately, it's not a very well recognised condition in the UK as yet and we don't have any professional support for him, so we're trying to help (albeit in a bungling, don't really know how to help sort of way).

Once the thumb was back in action, I thought a bit of controlled cutting practice might be in order. Kirsten had mentioned the Kumon workbooks recently, so when I saw this recently, I thought we'd give it a whirl.

It's been a huge hit. Helped by the fact that both boys can find something appropriate in it to do and work alongside each other.

It's fascinating to see how different their approaches are - one slow and self-critical and the other gung-ho and haphazard. Although from the photo above, I can see similar thumb in mortal danger tendencies.

But it's a testament to the workbook that they both seem to enjoy it. Johnny, for the mechanics and mastery of a new skill and Mark for the fun of the end product.

If anyone else has any great tips for fine motor control practice, do share won't you?

Yoo hoo, we're home!

 There's nothing quite like coming home is there? I am struck by several things I love about ours:

1. Central heating
2. Double glazing
3. Boiler

By gum, that was a cold camping trip! Beautiful though.

Yup, that's frost glittering there - thank goodness for hot water bottles, thermals and woolly hats in bed (can you imagine the bed-head!). And lots of this.

Can I admit now to being more of a fair weather glamper? But even when you're freezing, nothing beats an egg still warm from the hen,

And you could always cuddle a goat to stay cozy.

I must go and re-boot the washing machine now. I've sorted the laundry into dirty, dirty with a smattering of mud and so muddy it is likely to break the machine if not rinsed first. That should keep me out of mischief for a little while.

Eventful weekend

 A peaceful weekend of visiting, cousin bonding, delivering (and trying out) birthday goodies - it all seemed so promising.

But somehow, it turned into:

A broken barometer, a good deal of mercury on the floor and two fire engines with flashing blue lights. Just for the record, I would like to state I did NOT dial 999, I just called the Fire Brigade for advice. Well, would you know what to do? Actually, Val probably would. And it was a better response than the man from the Environment Agency "Ooh, I don't know. I've never had this before. Hang on a minute and I'll just Google Mercury".

Anyhow, it's nasty stuff and it took the Environmental Health clean up man a fair few hours to do his thing. Alarmingly, he used my Sister-in-Law's vacuum cleaner to finish the job. Needless to say, a new one is on her shopping list for Monday.

Oh and on other news? It snowed. Very pretty. If only we weren't heading off glamping tomorrow...

Now excuse me,  I'm off up to the loft to locate thermal underwear. One thing's for sure, life is never boring round here.

What's in yours?

 Alice was talking this morning, and I quote...

        I have just read a diatribe about
        The Evils of Blogging
        which claims that it sucks the creative lifeblood
        out of the poor saps
        who get drawn into The Evil Blogosphere.

I'm confused by this, because as I told Alice, I've never been part of something with MORE creative lifeblood in evidence.  But do you know what? I hate being told I shouldn't do something. It brings the beast out in me. So here, the contents of my handbag, because I'm sure that's exactly the sort of thing that would really wind up the author of the original diatribe.

All the usual detritus represented.

From the serious: wallet, phone, chequebook, stamps.

Via the more creative: camera, Moleskine, Moo cards, pens and pencils.

The personal: tampons, tissues (Christmassy and normal), nail file, rescue remedy.

The unusual: finger bandage (there's another tale), zinc oxide tape and package to post.

And the escapees: all the flotsom which migrates to the bottom.

Housed in my Orla bag. Words cannot express how happy this bag makes me. I spent a whole year obsessing about the style and pattern before I took the plunge. Sometimes the process is half the fun. And so it is with blogging. Even though I've found little time to be creative of late, I find myself wanting to post. And if it's about the contents of my handbag, so be it. I'm in good company.

Two

 Happy Birthday to you,

        Happy Birthday to you,
        Happy Birthday to my blog, (and to my lovely sister-in-law)
        Happy Birthday to you.

Two years today. But I'm not in the mood for reminiscing this morning - it's all about looking forward. Care to join me? And help yourself to a cupcake too - they're a marbled chocolate experiment, but I know you won't judge me too harshly if they haven't turned out quite right. Because we're friends, and that makes me happy.