Nothing about Michael Jackson

Nope, uh-uh, a totally Michael-free zone over here. Because we have been all about the wedding of the year over here.
wedding party
Big congratulations to Madeleine and Lee, now honeymooning in Rio!
Saturday was all about being a princess. I worked overtime, of course, to finish up — my dress was cut out Thursday afternoon, put together Friday afternoon, and actually finished about 1 1/2 hours before we were due for pictures. Echo’s — well, the muslin was finished a week before the wedding, and the invisible zipper on this silken princess getup was finished a scant hour before we were due for pictures. But really, all things considered … everything came off perfectly …
freshly made dresses!
flower girl in chapmpagne silk
little wood nymph
looking down on band
cake cutting
party's over, cinderella
A really lovely wedding. Some of the most eloquent toast-makers I’ve ever heard, the most gorgeous flower arrangements *ever*, and the weather? Did they pay off the weather gods?
Run-On Sentence and Nick Jaina played; the ceremony included a little sing-along, too. Ah, so romantic.


What happens to a flat of strawberries?

Thanks to a new canning setup from local home-goods store Mirador; now I can scald six quarts of goodness at one time, if the opportunity presents itself. These are the 1/2 pints only; I also got 3 full pints as well.

Strawberry-rhubarb, baby. I’d never before really apprciatd what rhubarb does for a strawberry pie … It brings tartness, texture, and oh! that *color* — a brightness, a pinkiness. I’ve made lattice-top pies before, but this one was especially good.

That’s probably because of the strawberries — Hood River berries, shaped like tiny pineapples and solid luscious red all through, not a hint of white pith. Sweet? Awwww yeah …

So where’d the rhubarb come from then? Now there’s a story; Alex and I (oh didn’t I mention that Alex visited? For a bit less than a week, and he left with us something rather special, which I’ll get to next.) Anyway, in an effort to share yet more of Oregon’s scenic beauty, we drove out through the wine country, only to pass by a field of freshly- harvested rhubarb. Gleaning ensued. Also ensued: rhubarb compote, rhubarb cobbler, rhubarb preserves, and – as pictured – pie.

I write this, btw, directly from a haircut session:
do! haircuts

Awaiting me @ home to be sewn: a flower-girl dress; a tulle underslip; last and probably least, my own wedding garb. Time left: 26 hours. Will it happen? Stay tuned … After all, what *ever* happens without a deadline?

End Radio Silence

Awwww yeah, I’m back. Crap typing and all … I’m back to the keyboard. And what’s been so very absorbing that I couldn’t even leave a little shoutout here and there? Oh, the usual:
Road trips.
Ocean Swirls
Pagan fertility rites.
flower crown
Birthday parties,
easter cake
a wee bit of sewing,
bat cosplay,
Bat Mama
helping to build a bass.
You know, all the usual stuff. Oh, and of course, grading … lots and lots of grading. No photo for that; just imagine me ink-stained and paper-cut and much disgruntled; you’ll have the picture.

I am still tethered to work; finals week is almost here; I’ll give my last final next Tuesday and then, ladies and gentlemen then! the sweet bird of liberty will once again sing for me. And I will again be writing thrice-weekly love letters to all y’alls.

P.S. Obligatory cute Chicklet story: Echo’s first words to me this morning: “Happy holiday, Mommy.” Well, it *is* Saturday. Then, this exchange.
Me: “Do you know what I dreamed about last night?”
Chickpea: “Your friend Buddha?”
Me: [jaw slightly dropped] ” … Uh, no. But why would you say that?”
Chickpea: [with sly look and sing-song voice.] “Come on! I know it was your friend Buddha!”