Dear Kid,

The other day it rained.

Not a monsoon, but enough to break out my beloved rain boots and scurry from car to building under an umbrella. A big umbrella, not the tiny collapsible kind.

By early evening the storm had passed, leaving everything sparkly fresh. And wet.

Pi had one of her friends over to visit and Dad suggested s’mores. He’s been particularly s’more-fixated this year. The girls thought it was a fine idea. They collected the ingredients and Dad, thePuppy, and I went outside to build a fire.

Did I mention “wet”?

We searched high and low to find semi-dry fire building material (strong emphasis on “semi”), and we had no trouble creating fire—that is, lighting the matches. Many matches.

The Puppy amused himself by digging a bed in the mulch.

After a while, Dad decided to (sacrilege!) add newspaper as a fire starter. We had no difficulty in lighting the newspaper. We even managed to get some of the pine needles to smoke and smolder a bit.

After another while, the girls, the Puppy, and I went inside where we made s’mores the traditional way—by cooking the marshmallows over the stovetop. (Advantages: actual heat and fewer mosquitoes.) Dad refused to give up and continued to attempt to create fire.

Many, many matches gave their lives in the attempt. No actual wood was harmed.

We invited Pi’s friend to come back another time when the probability of lighting a fire might be higher.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Do you know what tomorrow is? Besides being July 1st I mean.

It is Creative Ice Cream Flavors Day.

This is worth thinking about creatively. Not in a Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Bean kind of way (no, I cannot imagine Ear Wax Ice Cream), but creatively nonetheless.

Like Ben & Jerry’s all out craziness.

How about Cheesecake Chocolate Ice-Cream-Sandwich Brownie Caramel Ice Cream with Cool Whip on top? Already been done? Moving on.

What about a flavor called Sailboat that could make you feel like you’re drifting on a lake on a bright spring day?

Or one called Aced It which would be the flavor of getting all the questions right on a final exam?

How about Snuggle Puppy which would be the warm hug of a tired puppy curling up in your lap?

On the other end of the flavor spectrum we could have Frozen Computer Screen.

What’s your idea for a creative ice cream flavor?

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

One of the things we’ve tried very hard to teach you and Pi is to try new things, especially new foods. However, I have just discovered there is at least one exception to the Try New Things rule.

We were watching Beat Bobby Flay on the Food Network. It was the episode where Marcus Samuelesson battles Bobby Flay. Because it’s Bobby’s show, the guest gets to choose the dish. And Marcus chose Chicken Doro Wat which is a spicy Ethiopian chicken stew and which Bobby had absolutely no idea how to make.

That’s not the interesting part, nor is it the part about you not trying things. My understanding is that doro wat is about a zillion kinds of delicious. (So be sure to try it if you have the opportunity.)

One of the ingredients Marcus used was funky fermented butter (I’m quoting). Well-known (and pretty funky herself) chef Anne Burrell went over to check on Marcus’ progress and asked if she could taste the funky fermented butter. Of course he said yes, so she did.

And the face she pulled was priceless.

Apparently, funky fermented butter is delicious when used as the base for Chicken Doro Wat but not something one should eat plain.

Now you know.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Today is National Martini Day, so pull up your martini glass and let’s talk ‘tini.

Traditional martinis are made with gin, vermouth, and an olive or a twist of lemon.

The world’s most famous martini is of course the Bond martini, which is shaken not stirred. Many people say gin should be gently stirred so as not to bruise the gin. Other people say that shaking can over dilute the drink because ice gets broken and melts. Either way, conventional wisdom is at odds with 007.

Vodka martinis are made with (duh) vodka instead of gin. Which is helpful if you want to drink a martini and you don’t like gin.

Many people like dry martinis, made with little to no vermouth. As in, just wave the vermouth bottle in the general direction of the drink. Or bow toward France.

The martini glass came before the martini although of course it wasn’t named the martini glass until the martini came along and took up residence.

These days there are zillions (I counted) of variations. Like burnt (martini with a bit of smoky wisky). Or a dirty martini which includes a splash of olive brine.

Many of the newer ‘tinis use vodka as a base because the vodka won’t fight with the other flavors. Appletinis include apple schnapps. Chocolate martinis use chocolate liqueur and crème de cacao. An espresso martini has Kahlua and espresso (and pretty much nothing to do with martinis).

There are lots more, but this isn’t about making you a master bartender. It’s about noticing it’s martini day.

So raise a glass of water (stirred not shaken) and enjoy.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Things I don’t understand:

Why am I the only person in the house who can take the labels off bananas and get rid of them? FACT: Banana labels do not belong perched on top of the banana tree stand.

Why are weeds so hardy? And why haven’t other plants learned from them?

What is it with dust? Where does dust come from? And why does it colonize in our house? Dust dragons are lovely creatures, but they breed at a ridiculous rate.

Why am I the only person in the house who can fill the birdfeeders? It’s not that hard. Yet no one else seems to possess the technical skill required to notice that there feeders are empty.

Why does weekend coffee taste better than weekday coffee? And why doesn’t weekday coffee learn?

These are important things to ponder on a rainy weekend morning.

Life is pretty good if these are the big issues.

Hope your life is pretty good today, too.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

It’s Pi’s fault. It’s all Pi’s fault.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

The plan was to go to the gym with her last evening. It was a simple plan. I would drive home, she’d hop into the car, and we’d go to the Rec Center where she’d kick my butt from one end of the gym to the other.

Simple. Painful, but simple.

But it didn’t work out that way, because Pi fell asleep. So instead of hopping into the car, she was sprawled, with the TV still playing Say Yes to the Dress, sound asleep on the couch.

No, I didn’t turn around and go to the gym on my own. That would have been unthinkable. I walked and fed the Puppy, and then did a few things around the house.

Pi woke up. She stretched. I sat down next to her and she curled right up and went back to sleep with me as the pillow. (See, there was a good reason I didn’t go to the gym.)

Forty-five minutes she woke up.

I suggested we do something about dinner. Pi suggested going to Shapiro’s. It was a moment of snuggly warm weakness, and the three of us went out.

Shapiro’s sandwiches are about the size of Montana. Each half of the sandwich is enough to feed a small country. We snarfed happily.

Then the supremely unexpected happened. Dad suggested dessert. There was a negotiation, there was discussion. And then there was a walk over to Whit’s where we mega snarfed.

Then we rolled home.

I won’t fit into any of my clothes tomorrow.

And it’s all Pi’s fault.

Love, Mom