I think we've forgotten how to be home in our own house. Familiar strains are heard: lawn, laundry, cook, clutter, groceries, gardening. Simple and ordinary days.
Sunday has to be a day of rest. There must be a Sabbath in this week or we will not survive. If I had a pool, I would float in it. If I was near a beach, I'd sun on it. But neither of us wanted to jostle crowds or get in a car and travel more than up the road to go to brunch.
Our mini-vacation day, I've decided, will draw on the leisure activities we employed with the children when it was so hot on a July day in Memphis that even our 40-foot pool drew no enthusiasm when we knew the water would be close to 90 degrees.When the heat and humidity turn summer into winter and the four walls are closing in, you can't fight it: you must embrace it.
I used to declare it a summer in winter snow storm day. We would shop for provisions: usually Blimpie sandwiches, chips, and chocolate chip cookies. The shutters in the sunroom would be closed up, the sleeping bags would be brought down from the closets, and the sofa bed would be opened up. Oh, and the air conditioner would be lowered to 60 degrees.
There we would spend the day and into the night, watching movies and eating junk food. Eventually, the little one would need a nap, the soda would spill on the sofa, and lethargic children would begin to bicker. Granny Pom would stick her head into the room and think we'd all lost our minds. (She pretty much thought I was the most lax mother/housekeeper on the face of the earth, which I probably was at times when measured up to a standard of living in the country on a farm.)
I decided to rent a British film since we'd been at the dog park and had a delightful chat with an older English chap about his long gone black lab who used to bring him the letters when the postman dropped them through the gate. I spent the rest of the walk talking with a British accent until Mr. Pom told me to get a life.
So I rented a British film: An Education. A coming-of-age story set in England in the 50's, it started off wonderfully, but the last third of the story fell flat. However, charming actors, and beautiful clothing and sets made it lovely eye candy. A pleasant hour and a half. We ate canteloupe with proscuitto, olives, mozarella, tomatoes, and some salami. (I guess we have outgrown Blimpies.)
Relaxed by our several hours of leisure, I did accomplish the two things I wrote about yesterday:
The decluttering began with backyard and garage junk! Yes, that is Grandpa's 35 years old redwood picnic table and benches. All of my extended family and more had eaten around that table. It began its life on the porch on Claire Avenue. My mother gave it to us when she sold the house after my Dad died twenty years ago. It had traveled with us from NY to Fresno to Memphis and back to NY. Able to seat at least 12 in a pinch, the redwood table was at least two inches thick and the benches were as sturdy as they come.
We have shopped for replacement table, but they really don't even make them like this anymore and if they did, they'd cost a fortune. It was so rotten in places that about a twelve inch portion of the wood had completely disintegrated. Mr. Pom has nailed it and braced it and patched it for 25 years, but it had reached the end of its useful life. Everyone said good bye to it before we rolled it out to the curb. I'd better stop writing about it or I'll be outside under the cover of darkness rolling it back into the yard.
Despite the 90 degrees weather, Mr. Pom made good on his promise to The Artist to make her a leg of lamb on the grill and it was awesome. (She is our little red meat carnivore.) Smoky flavor and perfectly cooked, tender and rare. I had to restrain myself from sitting at the table with the leg bone to eat the charred bits. Since my surgery, I've only eaten lamb about twice and I can only have one small piece but it was worth it.
Before we ate, he had the lamb on the charcoal grill and the veggies on the gas grill, so I took the opportunity to run out and grill my peaches along with the veggies, which I supposedly was "watching" but didn't know I was "watching", so we had burnt veggies.
Of course, I forgot to take a photo of the other side, the pretty side! I dusted them with sugar before I grilled them. They were good, but they weren't that good. They had the same flavor as when I do them on the stove. Next time, I'll rub them in the sugar and grill them exclusively on the charcoal grill for the smoky flavor. Otherwise, seriously, you get the same flavor by doing them in a cast iron pan and then you can add a little butter and let them caramelize.
The best part of the meal, however, wasn't the peaches or the lamb, it was when the Pomegranate family sat down together and divvied up the cash on their bets as to how much mummy spent at the Arbonne make up party that she attended on Friday night. Yes, egged on by Mr. Pom, The Princess and The Artist and their father had a pool as to how much I would spend. I faked them all out by spending quite a bit under their lowest bid, with The Princess collecting her ten dollars from them. Just to even things up, I went online and purchased a few other personal essentials, such as the lavender body wash and face polish I've run out of. Darling, darling family. Next, they will be betting on when I leave and take all the money and hide out in a villa in Tuscany.
Have a good week!
