The Morning's Incendiary Excitement

There I was in the kitchen making yogurt, one pot on the stove heating the milk, the other pot on the stove just starting to get the water warm for the water bath and . . . why does it smell like something is burning? Ah, perhaps because of the FLAMES COMING FROM THE STOVE?

Yup, that'd be why.

There was something pooled under the back burner that had caught on fire. I didn't know exactly what it was, but some kind of grease was a safe bet. So I lifted the pot of water off the flaming burner, being very careful not to get the potholders near the flames, and then dumped about a cup of baking soda over the flames.

Those industrial-sized bags of baking soda from BJ's certainly are handy in cases of fiery yogurt making.

It was actually all very calm and unhurried, probably because there were no children in the kitchen with me at the time.

And then! I came thiiiiiis close to boiling over the milk when I was trying to clean up the baking soda mess. Whee!

I managed to get my yogurt in the cooler with no further mishaps.

Just remember, kids: Smokey Kristin says, only you can keep grease fires from becoming raging conflagrations.

The Blackberry Battleground

This morning I got all suited up in long pants and one of A.'s long-sleeved work shirts, in preparation for a Blackberry Battle.

Okay, so actually I was just picking blackberries, but that's definitely a battle. Especially this year, because the blackberry patch has not actually been weeded at all, and is also partially surrounded by a fence, so picking the blackberries requires essentially wading into the blackberry thicket to get at the berries.

Blackberry thorns are no joke, man. But I really need to make some jelly. Hence the battle gear.

And then, of course, I had to contend with the enemy troops. Namely, Cubby and Charlie. They obviously followed me out to the blackberry brambles* and commenced to shoving blackberries in their insatiable maws as quickly as they could find them. Luckily, I am much taller than they are and could reach more of the berries. Also, they were in shorts and sandals, so they couldn't penetrate the thicket as well as I could in my special forces gear.

HA HA, SUCKERS. Preparation is everything.

I only got about 2/3 of a quart of berries, though, which is nowhere near enough to make the 3 and 3/4 cups of juice I need for jelly. So I guess I'll be re-entering the battle grounds over the next few (very hot) days as the berries continue to ripen so I can gather enough.

I just have to beat Cubby and Charlie to the berries. It's on.

* Jack was asleep, because I am not stupid enough to try to pick blackberries with a toddler crashing into the blackberry canes next to me.

It's a Christmas-in-July Miracle

Behold, the only photo ever taken in which every one of my children is smiling:

And not only my children, but my dad, too.

I took this in the van on the way to dinner at an actual restaurant when my parents were visiting. No one was smiling on the way home, because Charlie spent the whole way home writhing in his seat and shrieking, "Get me out of here NOW!"

But I have proof that for one short moment in time, everyone was happy. A miracle, indeed.

Four

Happy birthday to

the dearest Charlie.

The Big News (But Not a Baby)

Just thought I'd clear that little issue up right off the bat so I can go ahead and make an announcement:

We're moving.

I know. It's shocking. Should I say it again, just so you can take it in?

We're moving.

Starting August 1, we will no longer be The Family Blackrock, we'll be . . . Well, a family that lives really, really far to the north. Possibly The Family Frozen? Whatever.

We're moving to very far northern New York State. And when I say "very far," I mean our house is literally three miles from the Canadian border. Yes, it will be colder than here. As A. said when we were talking about it, "Let's not fool ourselves--it's cold as hell up there."

On the upside, the house we're renting was built in 2003, so it's actually insulated and presumably will not have ice on the bedroom walls. Also, it has a dishwasher.

I KNOW. A dishwasher! This might be the most exciting part for me.

The most exciting part for A. and Cubby is the fact that the house is on a 300-acre Christmas tree farm, and A. has permission from the landlady to hunt that land. Walk-out northern hunting? A dream come true.

Also, she has a vegetable garden, dozens of berry bushes, and lots of apple trees that she says are ours to harvest. Sweet.

The reasons for the move are many, but I think it's going to be an exciting adventure for all of us. Stay tuned for the stories.

And one more time, just so it can properly sink it: We're moving. Yup.

The Domination of the Bullhead

Nothing fosters self-esteem like landing a big, ugly, bulbous-headed bullhead from the dock. Good work, Cubby. Time for another fish fry.

Celebrating the Day After with Vomit

A. is laid out on the davenport in the parlor, rendered out of commission by some kind of virus. Likely the same one that resulted in a vomit-covered Jack two days ago.

Cubby is huddled up on a mattress on the floor in the parlor*, vomit bowl at the ready. He already used it once this morning. Let's hope he doesn't need it again.

Charlie and Jack are so far okay, as am I. We all had it earlier, so I'm hoping none of us have a relapse. There's only so much virus-related fun I can take.

Happy Fifth of July! Vomit is much less festive than fireworks.

* I left it there after my niece left, because the kids enjoy bouncing around on it so much and it's kind of handy to have an indoor trampoline on hot days.