tollipop

apple crisping

On Sunday morning the girls asked if they could do something in the kitchen.  Experience has taught me this quest is not to be granted in the form of hard labor, such as emptying the dishwasher or setting the table.  No, doing something in the kitchen means doing something fun.  And what could be more fun than chopping a dozen apples into tiny bits?

Listen, when your life has been stripped of television and you live with a mother who thinks the Romantic Period in music got a bit edgy, then yes, chopping apples does hold a certain appeal.  How could it not? 

This photo, however, would imply otherwise.  What can I tell you?  Euphoria need not be visible in order to exist.  They honestly were pretty happy.

More chopping.

Do you know what it's like growing up with a brother who was destined to become a surgeon?  Let's just say if you wanted to cut a slice of bread while he happened to be in the room, his consternation over the odds of that incision being made at anything other than a perfect 90 degree angle was tangible enough to create its own self-fulfilling prophecy. 

So when Tim walked into the kitchen just as I was about to perform my signature hatchet job on the pineapple, I wordlessly handed him the knife and he wordlessly presented me with about a hundred tiny, uniform trapezoids. 

You can't put a price on that kind of symbiosis.

Have I mentioned lately how much I love having my brother and his family here in town?

They provide hope to my girls that when I tell them we're having my favorite company over for dinner, there's a chance I'm not talking about just us. 

And the apple crisp?  Well, it was delicious.  So much so that I had it for breakfast the next day...which is really the underlying purpose of apple based desserts anyway, isn't it? 

*****

Dear reader, I am going to take a little break from Tollipop for the rest of the week.  Just feeling the need for a little balance, that's all.  Who knows if I will actually make good on this promise, as I always seem to think of something imperative to tell you midway through the hiatus. 

Imperative, like what the hammies have been up to lately.

Wishing you a moment to enjoy the last lovely few days of September...I'm always a little sad to see this month go.  Thank goodness it's followed by October!

and the winner is...

Mama Kelly!  Congratulations, dear MK!  You are the recipient of the first edition print of Flight School!  We are thrilled for you!  We are simply over the moon!  Please let's get in touch to discuss the finer points of mailing addresses and the like. 

To everyone else who left a comment about the signs of autumn (or spring, depending on the hemisphere), I did so enjoy reading about the changes in your neck of the woods.  Thank you for sharing those delightful observations!  They gave me quite a vicarious thrill.

And because a few people have asked, Tollipop giveaways remain open until I close the comments, so if you are able to leave a comment, it will be considered in the drawing.  I hope that clears up any confusion on the matter!

As always, I wish you something extra wonderful in lieu of the giveaway prize...namely a perfect cup of hot chocolate to be had in the company of an excellent friend.   And of course by excellent friend I mean a talking badger, a little old lady who calls you "dear," or perhaps even Mr. Darcy himself!

great day for a bike ride

On Saturday morning Roger and I had grand plans to get up before the sun and go for a bike ride.  Why would anyone want to get up before the sun?  I don't know, but it sure was fun talking about those plans.

Now I am going to tell you something lovely about the desert.  For the next eight months, I will be able to come out here and go for a bike ride anytime I want.  The sun will be shining.  The air will be pleasant.  And I will be riding like the wind so the desert can't catch up with me. 

If I have any issues, if something is on my mind, the desert will sweat it out of me.  For real.  The desert is kind of like a panoramic therapist's couch that uses the threat of extinction to get you talking.

Just between you and me, I'm a little worried the desert suspects I would rather be living somewhere else with four distinct seasons.  How it got that impression, I don't know, but the other day the desert came up and kissed me on both cheeks and I did not take that as a good sign. 

Listen, of all the places you don't want to tick off, the desert should be at the top of your list.  You better have a healthy respect for this place, unless you don't mind being turned into a pillar of salt.  That's why when I'm out in the middle of it, I spend all my time telling the desert there's nowhere else I'd rather be.

flight school...and a tollipop giveaway!

Delia looked at her students with an expression designed to mask the despair she felt inside.  Why did Roland persist in wearing that flea-bitten racoon suit everywhere he went?  It was mortifying.  The other day he pretended to cough up a hairball.  How could she be expected to work with that?

And what of Penny?  Well, she was just a rabbit, and an excessively twitchy one to boot.

The boy and his rabbit stared at Delia.

"You don't look like a witch," he said.

"Of course I'm a witch!," exclaimed Delia, feeling her cheeks flush hotly.  How she detested having her credentials called into question! 

"Well, you don't look like one," he insisted, scuffing the toes of his racoon suit in the dust.

"Are you really going to teach us to fly?," asked Penny, squinting in her skeptical way.  She popped a green lolly into her mouth and let the juice dribble down her chin. 

This was not to be borne!  Delia swayed against her broom, calculating the odds that either varmint might be in possession of smelling salts.  In the end she decided it was not worth the risk and refrained from swooning altogether.  On to business, then.

"First up on the agenda," announced Delia, "A spot of tea."

"Tea?," said Roland incredulously,"What on earth does tea have to do with learning to fly?"

"Nobody flies on an empty stomach.  Common knowledge," said Delia, snapping the agenda shut.

"Wait a minute.  Are you trying to trick us into a tea party?" demanded Roland. 

But the rabbit looked interested.  "Will there be sweets?," she asked.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Delia's lips.  "Oh yes," she crooned, "I've an entire house made of gingerbread right around the corner!"

"Poppycock!" scoffed Roland, "You nicked that from a fairy tale."

Delia scowled.  Blast that boy and his literate mind! 

The thought of sugar was making Penny twitch more than ever.  "I say we give her a chance," she muttered, turning to consult with Roland, "If she proves to be a fraud, we can pinch the crumpets and make our getaway!"

The word getaway always worked on Roland.  His entire life was spent dreaming up elaborate escapes using tunnels, spades, hot air balloons, and explosives.  Too bad for him, then, that nobody could bear his company long enough to conceive detaining him against his will!

As hoped, Penny's suggestion had its intended effect.  Roland wiped his hands on the mange of his suit and pulled himself up to full height.  "I say, Delia," he exclaimed, "Let's have a look at that gingerbread house, come to think of it.  Perhaps this is a plot line I'd be interested in following after all."

*****

Dear reader, as you can see, I'm getting all kinds of autumn on.  I will be stocking this print in my Etsy shop soon, but in the meantime I would like to offer the first run image as a little gift.  If you are interested in playing along, please leave your name in the comment box below.  You may simply say hello, but I would also love to hear about the signs of the season in your neck of the woods...whatever they may be. 

I will draw and announce a winner on Monday. 

Wishing you a crisp, fading sun, good things to eat, lovely autumnal weekend...

the best part of autumn just showed up on my doorstep!

Dear reader, look what was waiting on my doorstep when I came home from music lessons the other day!  A box of freshly picked, Washington grown apples sent to me by the world's loveliest sister (the one who prefers not to be confused with natural disasters). 

Oh, Katrina!  How can I ever thank you?  Do you remember your erstwhile penchant for gnawing the tops off my Lipsmackers?  All is forgiven, my child.  All is forgiven.

It's unusual for me to exhibit signs of visible euphoria in public.  But just ask my girls how Mama danced around the kitchen when she saw the contents of this box.  Then ask them how Mama fell down on all fours and launched a feeding frenzy, growling at anyone who came within ten feet of her kill. 

A box of apples should not be traumatic for children.  In retrospect, I see that.

But dear reader, I'm so happy I could sing!  A whole box of freshly picked apples.  The kind that make a crunching noise inside your brain when you bite into them.  The kind that take you back to all kinds of memories, rosy cheeks, and stomach-aches.  The kind that could be made into pies, crisps, tarts, and strudels!  Or plain devoured right down to the bone.

I'm having that Sound of Music moment where I wonder what I did in my childhood to deserve such bliss.  Hard to say, but it must have been something good. 

Thank you, my dear, sweet sister.

finding my inner autumn

::  Conversation with the girls while driving to cello lessons on September 22 ::

Caroline:  Mom, my teacher said today is the first real day of autumn.  Is she right?

Me:  Yes, I believe she is.

Caroline:  Well, if this is the first real day of autumn, where are all the colors?  Why aren't there any leaves falling down?

Me (too brightly): The neat thing about our town is you have to look very carefully for the changes in season! 

Caroline:  Like what?

Me: Well, for example, you may have noticed it's not as hot today as it was last week.

Caroline:  It's still hot, Mom.

Me: Yes, but--

Caroline (undeterred): And it's always going to be hot. 

Me:  Honey, that's like feeding Mama kryptonite.

Izzy:  Caroline, in other parts of the world you can notice autumn very easily. 

Me (gripping the steering wheel):  We can notice it here, too.  It's just that--

Caroline (outraged):  Why do other parts of the world get a better autumn than we do?  Why do they get all the falling leaves?! 

*****

Ah, dear reader.  This is a beautiful, nostalgic time of the year for me.  There is no way to adequately express my love of autumn, how much I lived, breathed, and absorbed it for the first several decades of my life.  How disorienting it has been to come to this town and try to pace myself with a very different set of changes. 

This is not intended as a lament, by the way.  I live here and have found my connection to the desert...but I still adore autumn and have learned to find it in many unexpected places.

Antonio Vivaldi, you make me feel autumn.  Sad, wistful, melancholy...I practically have to put a sweater on and sit at the window, because surely it's raining outside and the sidewalk is covered in wet, yellow leaves.

 VivaldiConcertoinAMinor2ndMovement

:: Click the above link to find your inner autumn...I recorded this late last night with the new Evah Pirazzi strings in our state-of-the-art Tollipop studio using my husband's iPhone ::

freestyle

On days that are not filled with music lessons, elocution and deportment, butter churning, or the fine art of trompe l'œil, we make our way to swim team.  We don't take it very seriously, but you wouldn't know it to look at us.

Looks pretty serious to me.

There goes Caroline, off for one of her walks across the moors.

All kidding aside, I love watching these girls in the water.  For one thing, I have absolutely no idea what they're doing.  Unlike our foray into music, I am free to merely admire and be in awe of their skills, having attained no critical level of opinion on the matter.  I love watching their friendship develop.  I love that they are becoming strong swimmers.  I love having that time with Caroline.  I love doing something that we don't take very seriously...even though at least once a month I have to remind myself it's okay not to take everything seriously.  In fact, it's important not to take everything seriously.

I'm one of those headmistresses who needs that memo from time to time.  

je te presente: coco et gigi

Dear reader, I know there are mixed feelings out there regarding the hammies.  Some of you prefer not look upon rodents first thing in the morning.  Some of you cannot get your fill of them.

I assure you there is more to the Tollipop School of Moderately Well-Behaved Young Ladies than this.  Indeed, yes.  We are all about penmanship, the art of conversation, french-dotting whatever can be pierced with a needle, and who can forget our follies in the kitchen?  Add to that the bliss of the pianoforte, our penchant for spelling bees, the pleasure of books, long walks across the moors, and it would seem the only thing lacking is a furry little friend. 

I can now rest knowing Caroline's education is complete. 

Question:  How long will I continue to affix blooms the size of Manhattan atop my daughter's head?

Answer:  For as long as she will permit me to do so.

happy birthday to my violin

Lately, in addition to its signature dulcet tones, my violin has been making this sound like a tiny fly buzzing to death.  In retrospect, it could simply be my touch.  But I prefer to lay the blame elsewhere, and since it was hard to pin on the hamsters, the obvious culprit would be the violin's old, grizzled strings. 

Izzy's teacher recommended this brand, Evah Pirazzi, and I was so enchanted by the name and packaging that I swore I would ride halfway across the world, if necessary, to procure myself a set.   

Today I happened to find myself on the wrong side of the tracks near a seedy strip mall infested with pubs, clubs, parlors, and the violin shop, so I stopped in for a little visit.  The purchase of an entire set of violin strings is hardly to be taken lightly, dear reader.  Who knew there was such a premium on catgut?  Just kidding...I do believe these modern strings are made of steel and plated in silver, or possibly even chocolate.  I would be much happier if it was chocolate.

At any rate, I'm quite excited to try them out.  It reminds me of a childhood memory...when my two little brothers would get new running shoes, they always wanted to show me how fast the shoes could run.  They would charge around the kitchen table at the speed of light, convinced their new shoes deserved all the credit.

I hope these strings play like that.

first batch of the season

 Dear reader, you remember these, don't you?

There's only one thing that is subtle about Las Vegas, and that is the change in seasons.  As a result, I take it upon myself to simulate autumn.  I wear sweaters.  I brew tea.  I say to the girls, "Oooh, can't you just feel that nip in the air?!"  They look at each other and shrug. 

And I bake pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. 

Because nothing makes it easier to imagine the leaves are changing, the frost is coming, the sun is far away, and you can see your breath in the air than the aroma of these cookies wafting through the house.  These cookies make me feel like company is on the way, like the table should be set with extra care, like Vivaldi is in the background, like something long-anticipated is about to happen.

Which is why I'll be making them nonstop until the beginning of my imaginary spring.