Flattery Will Get You Nowhere.
We are reading Aesop's fable "The Fox and the Crow".
In case you're not familiar with this one, here it is:
Me: "So, Neve, what can we learn from this story?"
(silence + blank stare)
Me: "Neve?"
Neve, finally: "Not to drop your cheese?"
Me: "Yeah, pretty much. Fiona, anything else to add?"
Fiona: "Uhhh, that foxes are bad? No, not bad. Just mean."
Me: "What was mean about what the fox said? It sounded nice."
Fiona: "He told her to sing only because he wanted her cheese, not because he thought she had a pretty voice."
Me: "Exactly. And do you know what that's called? The thing he was doing with the 'beautiful feathers' and 'queen of the birds'?
They shake their heads.
Me: "Flattery."
Neve and Fiona, in unison: "Flattery."
Me: "And can you give me and example of 'flattery'? Flatter me, for example."
Neve: "But don't you need cheese in your mouth first?"
Fiona dives right into this opportunity: "Yeah, Mom... you look BEAUTIFUL today. Your hair is so... pretty... in that bun. And your ears are so small on the side of your head. (begins laughing) And your little brown eyes are so round. (laughing more) And your teeth are... shiny. No, really do you have something in between your teeth?"
Neve, also laughing: "Fiona, she'd never drop her cheese if she was a crow."
In case you're not familiar with this one, here it is:
A crow was sitting on a branch with a piece of cheese in her beak when a fox observed her and set his wits to work to discover some way of getting the cheese. Coming and standing under the tree he looked up and said, 'What a noble bird I see above me! Her beauty is without equal, the hue of her plumage is exquisite. If only her voice is as sweet as her looks are fair, she ought without doubt to be the queen of the birds!' The crow was hugely flattered by this, and just to show the fox that she could sing she gave a loud caw. Down came the cheese, of course, and the fox, snatching it up, said, 'You have a voice, madam, I see: but what you want is wits.'
Me: "So, Neve, what can we learn from this story?"
(silence + blank stare)
Me: "Neve?"
Neve, finally: "Not to drop your cheese?"
Me: "Yeah, pretty much. Fiona, anything else to add?"
Fiona: "Uhhh, that foxes are bad? No, not bad. Just mean."
Me: "What was mean about what the fox said? It sounded nice."
Fiona: "He told her to sing only because he wanted her cheese, not because he thought she had a pretty voice."
Me: "Exactly. And do you know what that's called? The thing he was doing with the 'beautiful feathers' and 'queen of the birds'?
They shake their heads.
Me: "Flattery."
Neve and Fiona, in unison: "Flattery."
Me: "And can you give me and example of 'flattery'? Flatter me, for example."
Neve: "But don't you need cheese in your mouth first?"
Fiona dives right into this opportunity: "Yeah, Mom... you look BEAUTIFUL today. Your hair is so... pretty... in that bun. And your ears are so small on the side of your head. (begins laughing) And your little brown eyes are so round. (laughing more) And your teeth are... shiny. No, really do you have something in between your teeth?"
Neve, also laughing: "Fiona, she'd never drop her cheese if she was a crow."
 |
| I asked for it. |
A Tale of Neighbors, Cat Fights, and Breaking and Entering.
I have a neighbor that... talks.
And talks.
And then talks a little more.
And just as soon as you think you've got your key in the door, she says
one
more
thing.
Or two.
Today was one of those days. And truthfully, I usually don't mind. She's pretty entertaining actually.
She is a character who deserves many of her own blog posts, what with all of her wisdom nuggets, her antiquated southern vernacular, her ability to retell a story about "Jesse" or "Hernandez" or "Tammy" or (insert name of person I've never met but she talks about as if I have). I could write a book on the information I've procured from her in my driveway. Or by the mailbox. Or in the driver seat of my car. Or in the front doorway of my home. Or through the dining room window.
I really do love her.
As I was saying... I pulled into our driveway today, and a her SUV pulls in behind me. She waits for me to come to her window as she keeps the car running.
I'm smiling. I remember our last rendezvous in my yard from 2 days ago. I begin laughing to myself as I approach her window.
Her: "So yer still laughin'? What is wrong with you!?"
Me: "I'm sorry. It was funny. I mean, I'm sorry it happened. I'm nervous. Agh! I'm sorry!"
Her: "But yer still laughin'!"
Me: "I know. I know." (I'm literally pulling my face into a frown with my fingers.)
Her: "What exactly were you thinkin'?"
Me: "Oh, I wasn't thinking. It was stupid of me."
Her: "Yeah. I was tellin' Greg you was laughin' when it happened and that made him laugh and then I was all, 'All you fools is crazy with yer laughin' 'bout animals getting their asses kicked'."
Me: "Ohhh now. Your precious poodles didn't get their asses kicked. They were just... threatened... by the cat."
Her: "Yeah, I went home and had to check fer wounds cuz that cat went ape shit on 'em."
Me: "I'm sorry. It really wasn't funny. Are they okay?"
Her: "Well, they aint never gonna wanna come outta the house again, are they? But naw, they didn't get cut up. For real though. Why would you let the cat out the house when there are 2 small dawgs out here on leashes?!"
Me: "I let her out because she's not supposed to be in the house. I wasn't thinking at all, I swear. I just thought, 'GET CAT OUT OF HOUSE'. Who knew she was going to attack!?"
Her: "I knew! Hell. Damn cat had her babies when she was no older than a teen herself. What'd you think would happen!?"
Me: "I'm not following you. Do you think she was trying to protect the kittens? They were in the backyard. And your little dogs were out here on leashes. I mean, maybe, but..."
Me: "I guess. I've just never seen her do that before. She's usually so sweet. Again, I'm really sorry. By the way, who's Greg?"
Her: "You know Greg. He's always walkin' up an' down this street. He's fine."
Me: "Oh." (I don't know Greg.)
Her: "Dee, look there. How the hell?"
And for the first time in the 6 years that I've known my neighbor, she was speechless.
The girls had BROKEN INTO OUR HOUSE! They stood behind the screen door waving at us.
Me: "How did you get in!?"
Neve: "We found a skinny stick and put it in-"
Her: "Nope! Stop talkin'. You done told the neighborhood how to break into yer house. Dee, you better go whip some behinds. I'll catch you later."
The End.
And talks.
And then talks a little more.
And just as soon as you think you've got your key in the door, she says
one
more
thing.
Or two.
Today was one of those days. And truthfully, I usually don't mind. She's pretty entertaining actually.
She is a character who deserves many of her own blog posts, what with all of her wisdom nuggets, her antiquated southern vernacular, her ability to retell a story about "Jesse" or "Hernandez" or "Tammy" or (insert name of person I've never met but she talks about as if I have). I could write a book on the information I've procured from her in my driveway. Or by the mailbox. Or in the driver seat of my car. Or in the front doorway of my home. Or through the dining room window.
I really do love her.
As I was saying... I pulled into our driveway today, and a her SUV pulls in behind me. She waits for me to come to her window as she keeps the car running.
I'm smiling. I remember our last rendezvous in my yard from 2 days ago. I begin laughing to myself as I approach her window.
Her: "So yer still laughin'? What is wrong with you!?"
Me: "I'm sorry. It was funny. I mean, I'm sorry it happened. I'm nervous. Agh! I'm sorry!"
Her: "But yer still laughin'!"
Me: "I know. I know." (I'm literally pulling my face into a frown with my fingers.)
Her: "What exactly were you thinkin'?"
(My kids are calling my name from the front porch.)
Me: "Oh, I wasn't thinking. It was stupid of me."
Her: "Yeah. I was tellin' Greg you was laughin' when it happened and that made him laugh and then I was all, 'All you fools is crazy with yer laughin' 'bout animals getting their asses kicked'."
Me: "Ohhh now. Your precious poodles didn't get their asses kicked. They were just... threatened... by the cat."
(My kids are now in the backyard calling my name.)
Her: "Yeah, I went home and had to check fer wounds cuz that cat went ape shit on 'em."
Me: "I'm sorry. It really wasn't funny. Are they okay?"
Her: "Well, they aint never gonna wanna come outta the house again, are they? But naw, they didn't get cut up. For real though. Why would you let the cat out the house when there are 2 small dawgs out here on leashes?!"
(My kids have now put a ladder up against the fence, climbed to the top and are yelling my name louder than before.)
Me: "I let her out because she's not supposed to be in the house. I wasn't thinking at all, I swear. I just thought, 'GET CAT OUT OF HOUSE'. Who knew she was going to attack!?"
Her: "I knew! Hell. Damn cat had her babies when she was no older than a teen herself. What'd you think would happen!?"
Me: "I'm not following you. Do you think she was trying to protect the kittens? They were in the backyard. And your little dogs were out here on leashes. I mean, maybe, but..."
(My kids have resorted to threatening me that they will pee in the backyard if I don't let them in the house.)
Me: "Hey, I have to run. You know, before the kids pee in the garden."
Her: "Oh, let 'em. They're just tryin' to pull you outta mama time. It's good for ya. You could use a little more mama time, Dee. Now listen, I don't think she was protectin' nobody. I just think she's a tough ass kitty. She's been rode hard, if ya know what I mean."
Me: "I guess. I've just never seen her do that before. She's usually so sweet. Again, I'm really sorry. By the way, who's Greg?"
Her: "You know Greg. He's always walkin' up an' down this street. He's fine."
Me: "Oh." (I don't know Greg.)
Her: "Dee, look there. How the hell?"
And for the first time in the 6 years that I've known my neighbor, she was speechless.
The girls had BROKEN INTO OUR HOUSE! They stood behind the screen door waving at us.
Me: "How did you get in!?"
Neve: "We found a skinny stick and put it in-"
Her: "Nope! Stop talkin'. You done told the neighborhood how to break into yer house. Dee, you better go whip some behinds. I'll catch you later."
The End.
Deliberations Over Woody Allen
With so many changes happening at once, I've felt pretty small lately. Not bad, just not as in control of things as I'd like be. (Do you think I have a control problem? I refuse to have a control problem. Stop looking at me. Say something already!)
That said, I'm old enough now to recognize that times like these are often the ones that supply the best results. If I was in control of "things" during our first month of marriage, I'd have never had Fiona. And that was the best non-decision I've ever non-made.*
Mr. White and I watched Manhattan Murder Mystery last night.
There's a scene in it that cracks me up. It's classic Woody Allen:
Diane Keaton wakes him up in the middle of the night, wanting to discuss how sure she is that their neighbor has murdered his wife.
Woody Allen delivers his signature, "Yer craaaa-zy!" and proceeds to compare her to a car that needs to go back to the manufacturer because it's been recalled. Her response is equally distinctive as she stutters over his hysterical nasal whines.
But the part that makes me laugh, really laugh is when he says to her,
"I command you to go back to bed. I command you! As your husband, I command that you sleep!"
His attempts were all in vain, as she gets dressed to sneak into her neighbor's apartment. His beady little eyes are just blinking through those magnified glasses. He makes me so nervous, but oh, I love him.
In my movie, I guess Diane Keaton plays the role of my life? And I'm Woody Allen? Too metaphysical? Yes, I think so. Regardless, that's what's great about Woody Allen movies. They do make you feel better. "Um, ya know, less, uh, craaaa-zy."
*Note to self, delete this post when Fiona is old enough to check this blog.
That said, I'm old enough now to recognize that times like these are often the ones that supply the best results. If I was in control of "things" during our first month of marriage, I'd have never had Fiona. And that was the best non-decision I've ever non-made.*
• • •
There's a scene in it that cracks me up. It's classic Woody Allen:
Diane Keaton wakes him up in the middle of the night, wanting to discuss how sure she is that their neighbor has murdered his wife.
Woody Allen delivers his signature, "Yer craaaa-zy!" and proceeds to compare her to a car that needs to go back to the manufacturer because it's been recalled. Her response is equally distinctive as she stutters over his hysterical nasal whines.
But the part that makes me laugh, really laugh is when he says to her,
"I command you to go back to bed. I command you! As your husband, I command that you sleep!"
His attempts were all in vain, as she gets dressed to sneak into her neighbor's apartment. His beady little eyes are just blinking through those magnified glasses. He makes me so nervous, but oh, I love him.
In my movie, I guess Diane Keaton plays the role of my life? And I'm Woody Allen? Too metaphysical? Yes, I think so. Regardless, that's what's great about Woody Allen movies. They do make you feel better. "Um, ya know, less, uh, craaaa-zy."
 |
| Also helping lately? Kitten in a Cup. |
"Consider Yourselves Warned"
Given the beautiful Autumn day, we take school outside.
Sitting under a large oak tree, we open our books and begin to read.
Me: "'Pinocchio, as was natural, asked the Fairy's permission to go roun-' OW!"
An acorn bounced off my skull, on to the table, and finally onto the ground.
Fiona and Neve giggle as I rub the ouch out of my head.
Me: "As I was saying, 'he asked the Fairy's permission to go round the town to make the invitations; and the Fairy said to him: Go if you like and invite your companions for-' OWWW!"
As if the top of my head had a target on it, another acorn, larger than the last, ricocheted off the same tender spot and on to my shoulder and eventually next to his fallen brother acorn on the ground.
The girls are, understandably, more entertained by this than the book. They hold each other, as they laugh so hard they can barely sit up.
Me: "If it happens to me again, it's a sign."
Fiona: "What kind of sign?"
Me: "A sign that we shouldn't be reading here."
They simultaneously look at each other and grin.
Me: "Alright, alright. Let's try it again. '...invite your companions to the breakfast tomorrow, but remember to return home before dark. Have you understoo-"
Another acorn, and then another, fall so hard onto the table in front of us, you'd have thought they were being shot from a rifle above.
Fiona: "Whoop! There you go! There's the sign! An angry squirrel wants us to leave!"
Neve: "Yes. An angry squirrel. We shouldn't read outside. Only play."
Still sore from the squirrel's previous threats, I couldn't argue with that logic.
Me: "Let's play."
They Need Each Other
I'm driving home from the grocery store (I'm always driving home from the grocery store), while the girls' heads are buried in coloring books and comics. This entire exchange happened without either child looking up from their books, but I had the opportunity of watching from the rear view mirror.
Neve: "Mom? Why are houses so expensive?"
Fiona interrupts: "Because, Neve. Houses aren't your usual object."
Wow.
Neve: "Fiona, you're doing it again."
Fiona: "Doing what?"
Neve: "Talking like an adult."
Fiona, serious: "I'm a thinker, Neve."
Neve: "You're 8."
Neve: "Mom? Why are houses so expensive?"
Fiona interrupts: "Because, Neve. Houses aren't your usual object."
Wow.
Neve: "Fiona, you're doing it again."
Fiona: "Doing what?"
Neve: "Talking like an adult."
Fiona, serious: "I'm a thinker, Neve."
Neve: "You're 8."
 |
| these were obviously not taken in the car. i do put my kids in seat belts. |
Yesterday's History Lesson and Smacksy
I read them this excerpt from their history book, "One day some soldiers were digging near Rosetta when they found a stone, something like a tombstone with three kinds of writing on it. The top was in pictures, which we now call hieroglyphics, and no one understood what it meant. Below this was written what was supposed to be the same story in the Greek language, and a great many people do understand Greek. All one had to do, therefore, to find out the meaning of the hieroglyphics, was to compare the two writings. This puzzle took almost twenty years for one clever man to solve, but after the key to the puzzle was found, men and women were able to read all of the hieroglyphics in Egypt and so to find out what happened in that country long ago. This stone is called the Rosetta Stone. It is now in the great British Museum in London and is very famous, because from it we were able to learn so much history that we otherwise would not have known..."
I ask Neve to tell me what I just read and she answers, "...otherwise would not have known."
"Okay. Fiona? Anything more to add to that?"
I shake my head.
"Dug?"
I nod.
"...So, he dug and dug until he came across a HUGE rock that looked like the kind of rock that people put in, what's the place called that dead people are buried at, Mom?"
"Cemetery."
"Yes, cemetery. You know those rocks with words at a cemetery? What are they called?"
"Head stones."
"Yes, head stones. It looked like a head stone from a cemetery, but it had words on it about Egypt, not dead people's names. The problem was, the man was really good at digging, but he wasn't very good at reading other languages and the other languages were... uhhh, those picture words... hie-ro? Hiero-gly-phics? Hieroglyphics? Is that right, mom?"
I nod.
"It had hieroglyphics pictures on the top and then it had another language under it called something. French, I think. And then another one. I can't remember. But what he did was, he took it to his friends who COULD speak French and the other language and asked them to tell him what it said. They told him what it said, and he guessed that it was the same as what the hieroglyphics said. And then he went to the president or the king or whoever and said, 'you're going to be so happy about this- I CAN SPEAK HIEROGLYPHICS!' And they gave him a metal or an award or something because they were so happy for him and then they took the head stone to a museum and he was famous."
* pause *
"Mom? Was that right?"
My head was spinning, "Well, you added a little extra to history. I like that this excites you, but you don't have to add to history. The truth is enough."
Apparently I'm Always "Clenching" and "Grinding"
"Mrs. White, here's what we found", as the dentist holds up some x-rays. "You have many small cracks on the tops of your molars and wisdom teeth. Mrs. White, do you grind your teeth?"
"Oh yeah. Lots."
"When you sleep? Throughout the day? When you're stressed?"
"Yes, yes, and yes. I'm pretty sure I do it even when I'm not stressed. It's just a thing with me, I guess."
"Well, do you have any pain that you feel may be associated with the teeth grinding? Headaches? Jaw aches? Ear aches?"
"I did come in because of the lower left jaw pain, which I thought was because of a toothache. Remember?"
He lays my chair back and pulls a television screen over my head. "Take a look at this video about 'Bruxism'. This should answer some of your questions."
I didn't know I had any questions about 'Bruxism'.
[**I tried hard to find this exact video pearl on youtube, but no luck. There are others that address the general idea, but they didn't have the same lady with the weird hair in it. I'll do my best to do it justice in words.**]
So, the video is only about 5 minutes long. Aesthetically speaking, it was not unlike something you'd see in 9th grade health class. And it involved poorly 3D-animated teeth that were grinding so hard and fast that the teeth actually crumbled by the end of the video. (It was like the recurring dreams I have where I eat my teeth like after dinner mints!)
But the best part was when the narrator introduced the "Various Treatments for 'Bruxism'". (Obviously, I can't remember what they said verbatim, but this was pretty much it.)
1. Yoga and stretch exercises.
"Some people find that stretching and other forms of stress-relieving activity will reduce their tendency to grind their teeth. Deep breaths and mediation may help as well."
2. Behavior Management.
"Teeth grinding can be classified as a 'bad habit' by many behavior therapists. Through a series of positioning strategies (how to close your mouth properly, how to chew properly, and various tongue exercises), you could forget your teeth grinding habits in no time!"
3. Night Guards.
"Many dentists prescribe protective devices to patients who suffer from 'Bruxism' as a way to absorb the pressure. Some guards may be found over-the-counter but are not recommended. Over-the-counter devices are not fitted properly and may get lodged in the patient's throat while they are sleeping."
4. Medication.
"'Bruxism' is often simply a symptom of another condition, such as depression, anxiety, and other psychological disorders. In seeking the counsel of a psychological professional, you may find that an anti-anxiety medication is right for you."
End.
"Mrs. White, do you have any questions?"
I laugh nervously and say, "I never thought my dentist would have to address my neurosis. Meds? Really?"
Unamused he asks, "Have you ever considered taking a Valium before you go to bed?"
"Of course I've considered taking a Valium before bed. And before waking up. But I don't."
"Okay", as he quietly jots this down in my file. "Aaaaand, Mrs. White?", he looks up at me. "Are your teeth touching as we speak?"
So bizarre. Of course my teeth are touching! I used to get in trouble for sitting in church with my mouth open. I beat that!
"Yes. Don't you?"
"No, ma'am. When your mouth is in a resting position, the jaw should be slightly separated."
"Wanna see how clenched things are right now? In a resting position?", as I draw attention to my Val Kilmer's-jaw-in-Top-Gun profile.
"So then, are you interested in a dental guard?"
"That's probably a good idea. Yes, a guard."
"Oh yeah. Lots."
"When you sleep? Throughout the day? When you're stressed?"
"Yes, yes, and yes. I'm pretty sure I do it even when I'm not stressed. It's just a thing with me, I guess."
"Well, do you have any pain that you feel may be associated with the teeth grinding? Headaches? Jaw aches? Ear aches?"
"I did come in because of the lower left jaw pain, which I thought was because of a toothache. Remember?"
He lays my chair back and pulls a television screen over my head. "Take a look at this video about 'Bruxism'. This should answer some of your questions."
I didn't know I had any questions about 'Bruxism'.
[**I tried hard to find this exact video pearl on youtube, but no luck. There are others that address the general idea, but they didn't have the same lady with the weird hair in it. I'll do my best to do it justice in words.**]
So, the video is only about 5 minutes long. Aesthetically speaking, it was not unlike something you'd see in 9th grade health class. And it involved poorly 3D-animated teeth that were grinding so hard and fast that the teeth actually crumbled by the end of the video. (It was like the recurring dreams I have where I eat my teeth like after dinner mints!)
But the best part was when the narrator introduced the "Various Treatments for 'Bruxism'". (Obviously, I can't remember what they said verbatim, but this was pretty much it.)
1. Yoga and stretch exercises.
"Some people find that stretching and other forms of stress-relieving activity will reduce their tendency to grind their teeth. Deep breaths and mediation may help as well."
2. Behavior Management.
"Teeth grinding can be classified as a 'bad habit' by many behavior therapists. Through a series of positioning strategies (how to close your mouth properly, how to chew properly, and various tongue exercises), you could forget your teeth grinding habits in no time!"
3. Night Guards.
"Many dentists prescribe protective devices to patients who suffer from 'Bruxism' as a way to absorb the pressure. Some guards may be found over-the-counter but are not recommended. Over-the-counter devices are not fitted properly and may get lodged in the patient's throat while they are sleeping."
4. Medication.
"'Bruxism' is often simply a symptom of another condition, such as depression, anxiety, and other psychological disorders. In seeking the counsel of a psychological professional, you may find that an anti-anxiety medication is right for you."
End.
"Mrs. White, do you have any questions?"
I laugh nervously and say, "I never thought my dentist would have to address my neurosis. Meds? Really?"
Unamused he asks, "Have you ever considered taking a Valium before you go to bed?"
"Of course I've considered taking a Valium before bed. And before waking up. But I don't."
"Okay", as he quietly jots this down in my file. "Aaaaand, Mrs. White?", he looks up at me. "Are your teeth touching as we speak?"
So bizarre. Of course my teeth are touching! I used to get in trouble for sitting in church with my mouth open. I beat that!
"Yes. Don't you?"
"No, ma'am. When your mouth is in a resting position, the jaw should be slightly separated."
"Wanna see how clenched things are right now? In a resting position?", as I draw attention to my Val Kilmer's-jaw-in-Top-Gun profile.
"So then, are you interested in a dental guard?"
"That's probably a good idea. Yes, a guard."
Dailies
1. This new homeschooling thing is taking some getting used to, but we love it. We're learning french (a phrase a day... we'll be fluent when I'm 90), and reading more than I ever thought I would/could handle. Who knew we'd be enjoying it this much. (Reality-check-posts coming shortly, I'm sure.)
2. Terry and I had an anniversary. 9 years! I can't believe we've been married that long. Where did the time go? Flowers are from him.
3. Last weekend, he went hiking and camping with 2 friends in North Carolina. They had an awesome time, but we sure missed him. (Neve especially.)
4. And I cleaned out my hole-puncher. I will take any visual delights I can get in a day.
Thinking Thinking
The girls are learning poetry by Robert Louis Stevenson. Here is an excerpt from one (The Little Land) that I find particularly lovely.
When at home alone I sit,And am very tired of it,I have just to shut my eyesTo go sailing through the skies—To go sailing far awayTo the pleasant Land of Play;To the fairy land afarWhere the Little People are;Where the clover-tops are trees,And the rain-pools are the seas,And the leaves, like little ships,Sail about on tiny trips;And above the daisy treeThrough the grasses,High o'erhead the Bumble BeeHums and passes.
* * *
Also, I finally got around to watching "Bill Cunningham New York". What an inspiring extraordinary ordinary man. I find his passion for his work combined with his sincere humility to be incredibly heartening.
And this quote. This quote is so simple, so fitting for every area of life, and altogether perfect.
"If you look for beauty, you will find it."
Summer's End
Having been away so long, I can't write it all.
I want to write it all, but it's gets blurry and mixed together.
Thank goodness for photos.
I want to write it all, but it's gets blurry and mixed together.
Thank goodness for photos.
 |
| i was obsessed with this for weeks: stick a chocolate chip in a raspberry and bloop! happy nights. |
 |
| our nature walks are my favorite moments spent with these girls. |
 |
| Fiona holds Poe. Want Poe? You want Poe. |
 |
| "Wow! Now wash your hands." |
 |
| and now, "...put on your dresses of red and gold, summer is over and the days grow cold." |
Nor I, Good Sir.
I was spying on the girls playing the other day and caught this exchange:
Neve: "So what do you want me to do anyways?"
Fiona: "I just want you to talk in an old fashion voice."
Neve: "But I don't know what 'old fashion' sounds like! Why can't I just talk normal?"
Fiona: "Because these are my rules [if you want to play with me]. Here's what you should sound like.
(insert 8 year old's version of a British accent here)
Neve: "So what do you want me to do anyways?"
Fiona: "I just want you to talk in an old fashion voice."
Neve: "But I don't know what 'old fashion' sounds like! Why can't I just talk normal?"
Fiona: "Because these are my rules [if you want to play with me]. Here's what you should sound like.
(insert 8 year old's version of a British accent here)
'Why yes, good sir, I would like a biscuit.'
(and then she bowed.)
... but you don't have to say 'biscuit' or 'good sir' or anything. Just, you know, kinda like that. "
Neve: look of disgust, "But I don't want to."
Fiona: "Well then, I guess you don't want to play."
Neve: reluctantly, "Okay, okay. I'll do it."
Fiona: "Good. So...
'Hello, ma' lady. Are you looking for... THIS!?'
(Fiona pulls a pencil out of the inside pocket of the winter coat she's wearing over her pajamas).
Neve: same expression, plus 5 year old robotic-British accent, "Nor, I am not. Why would I want... THAT!?"
Fiona: "Why did you say 'nor'?"
Neve: "Fiona. You're 8 and I'm 5, and you didn't know that people from a long time ago say 'nor'!? Wow."
Fiona: "I know about 'nor', Nev-"
Neve: interrupting, "-MOM! I JUST WANNA TAKE A BATH!"
~end scene~
First Bite of the Season
This season. Warm drinks, fires, fairs, marshmallows, scarves, sewing, daisies, and socks. And baking.
So much baking.
Here's the latest from the kitchen, taken from an old Bon Appetit. It may be a new favorite.
* Pistachio and Dried Cherry Biscotti *
1 3/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour (I used 2 cups spelt flour instead)
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup old-fashioned oats
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
2 large eggs
3 Tbsp. vegetable oil (I used olive oil instead, and I justified it as being more authentically Italian that way... tasted fine)
1 Tbsp. orange zest
2 tsp. lemon zest
1 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
1/2 tsp. almond extract
1 cup dried cherries
1 cup unsalted, shelled pistachios
Preheat oven to 350°. Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper. Combine first 6 ingredients in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle. Blend on low speed for 30 seconds. Meanwhile, in a separate bowl, whisk together eggs and next 5 ingredients. Add egg mixture to flour mixture; beat on low speed until combined, about 1 1/2 minutes. Fold in cherries and pistachios.
Transfer dough to a lightly floured surface; divide in half. Using floured hands, shape each dough half into a 16"-long log. Brush off excess flour; transfer logs to prepared sheet, spaced 5" apart. Flatten each log into a 2"-wide strip. Bake, rotating sheet halfway through, until browned and set, about 30 minutes. Transfer to a rack; let cool for 15 minutes. Reduce oven to 250° and arrange 1 rack in top third of oven and 1 rack in bottom third.
Line a second baking sheet with parchment paper. Transfer biscotti to a work surface. Using a serrated knife, cut each strip diagonally into 2/3"-thick slices. Arrange slices, cut side down, on baking sheets.
Bake biscotti, rotating baking sheets halfway through, until crisp, about 40 minutes. Transfer baking sheets to racks; let cool.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)