A Day Late

The two extra copies of Calpurnia Tate go to:

Jill in New Zealand and Natalie in Alaska! (Please email me with your addresses: mollydunham at sbcglobal dot net.)

Thank you to all who entered the giveaway. The turnout reminded me of the days when this used to be a craft blog! If only there'd been more copies of the book . . .

Every once in a while, my kitchen sink provides the perfect synopsis of my life:

~ I've been painting. And realizing that the four years of art classes I took in junior high and high school did not give me the skills I need to create the art I envision. They were good classes, though. I used to skip my sixth period English class and spend an extra hour in the art building (which probably explains the liberties I take with the English language). If only I could dedicate two hours a day, five days a week, to painting, drawing, and sculpting under the tutelage of a hippy art instructor, in an expansive, bright room with twenty foot ceilings and a wall of windows. I wouldn't exactly call them glory days, but in certain ways, they were glorious. I'm seriously considering signing up for an art class this fall.

~ A cold beer at 3:30 in the afternoon tastes just the way I want summer to taste.

~ The kids talked me into buying an industrial twin pack of Nutella. Three days later, one jar is almost empty. The good news is Nutella no longer contains partially hydrogenated oil, so I feel a little better about eating it by the spoonful.

~ For some odd reason, I find milk in glass jars romantic. Expensive, yes, but those glass jars satisfy me in a way plastic jugs cannot. I've renewed my commitment to buying milk exclusively from Strauss Creamery, and I've put the word out around the local farming community that I'm looking to barter homebrew for local, raw milk (which is probably illegal in about ten different ways). I think it might be easier to locate heroin (which is only illegal in two or three different ways). Nobody keeps milk cows anymore. Everybody has goats these days. Bleh. Goats aren't nearly as romantic as cows.

And that's the news from my kitchen sink.

The kitchen counter has a different tale to tell.

Dough for bagel dogs. They taste like summer too and go perfect with a cold beer. Hold the Nutella.

Happy weekending.