In anticipation of the weekend, and since I wrote about kitchen legacies, and food memories this week, I decided to organize my cookbook collection. I was also prompted to do this because our new kitten Annie, who has definitely found her mojo now that she's been on antibiotics and her cold has cleared up, has decided her favorite resting spot while we're out of the house during the day is right on top of my cookbooks. [more]

This week was one of those weeks that both dragged on painfully slowly, yet also seemed to pass in a blur. I’m not sure I can account for much of what I did back at home this week—it’s all a jumble of homework, quickie meals assembled from odds and ends, paper-grading, house cleaning in fits and spurts (although the kids’ suitcases STILL haven’t been unpacked yet from Labor Day weekend) and lots of ogling of kitty faces on our county's animal shelter web site. [more]

T. had a fantastic first day of kindergarten. Me? I had a strange first day. I walked around with the distinct feeling I was forgetting something—not a good feeling to have, really, especially when the something you feel like you’re forgetting is your child. But then I’d tell myself, reciting it like something I needed to remember: L. is in school, T. is in school, everything is okay.

The night before kindergarten, at dinner, we talked about making T. a photo collage she could keep in her backpack, to look at when she needed. [more]

When I was so sick with the stomach bug during our recent beach vacation, the only good thing that came out of it was that I lost two pounds. Coming home from vacation weighing less than when we left was almost enough to make up for eating nothing but saltines for two days--almost, but not quite. I love eating out, and eating out when on vacation is all part of the fun. Even before the actual bug knocked me out, I just didn't have an appetite that whole week. [more]

Remember all those peaches we had? Even after I'd made the pie, and enjoyed several bowls of cereal with fresh peaches sliced on top, we still had lingering peaches, growing softer, and more perfumed with each passing day. Something about the peaches, and the summer, and some quiet moments on the back porch spent thinking about Greece, and missing my grandparents, conjured up a buried memory--a taste, a smell, buried in the recesses of my mind, underneath a blanket of other memories. [more]