this was fun.

Today I was in Indianapolis to record a StoryCorps interview with Grandma. We had about 45 minutes in a tiny but comfortable mobile recording studio, where I asked her about her life, from growing up in Linton, Indiana, to her adventures in Norway and Japan as Dave's Mom. She shared stories about not having electricity or running water until she was 11 or 12, about keeping a garden and preserving the produce, about how she felt empowered and proud that she supported herself after Grandpa died. We talked about the things that she's passed down to me (and to Bill) like our love of cooking and gardening. It was really neat!

notes for next season.

I keep meaning to make notes of what's working—and what's not—in the garden, so that next summer I'll repeat—or not—my planting plans. So here's my online garden notation (I'll need to remember this post come next April).

What worked:
• Lantana—it takes full sun and intense heat with vigor; this will be my workhorse for summer color in the front and back pots, in the window box and hanging baskets
• Midnight blue salvia—sturdy, with gorgeous dark-blue flowers; frou-frou likes!
• Yellow Million Bells—super hardy and heat-resistant; they love fertilizer
• On the side porch—another mix of interesting foliage; ferns have done well
• In the veggie garden—Heatwave Blend lettuce from Shepherds Seeds has been incredibly productive, even in this summer's nasty dry heat. Plant two crops of beans more than two weeks apart. Expect that sweet and jalapeno peppers won't bear until late, late summer. Forget mystery varieties of tomato; stick with the knowns. Try a zucchini again, and maybe baby cuke; let them wander through the veggie patch.
• Try another lavender.
• Plumbago—at the street end of the flower bed and around the red "tuteur" with the clematis. Holy smokes, that stuff's hardy!


What didn't:
• See above re: the weird heirloom tomatoes. Ick.
• Three different kinds of plants, max, in planters.
• Herbs don't do well in pots.
• The black-eyed Susan vine on the trellis (west side of the S.P.) is a little out of hand.

For next summer, Pipkin's Market is totally my source for all plants, including veggies. No sense ordering those from Burpee—I can get exactly what I want, and no more than I need, by buying locally; there are tons of choices these days beyond Beefsteak.

I really, really, really want a grapevine from Napa Style. (Rob?)

good things.

Today was noteworthy in a very small way: Finally, after God knows how many rounds, I broke 90 on the golf course. Seven pars over 18 holes. (We won't discuss the other ones.)

Rob is stirring at the stove, cooking up a batch of risotto. We'll brave the not-quite-too-hot temps and have dinner at the Side Porch Cafe one more time this weekend.

Things I feel good about:

Preseason football
Mixed cherry tomato salad
Eating locally
Cutting flowers from the yard to put in a tiny vase on the table outdoors
Sun on my face
A good wooden spoon with a hefty handle (ask Wrigley about that one)
Zucchini risotto
Pickelson slammer cocktails (rum, triple sec, creme de cassis, lime juice)
The sound of wine pouring into a glass
A healthy dog
Late afternoon naps ;-)
Laundry drying on the line
Frou-frou
A green lawn in the midst of a brutal drought
A sh'load of basil growing outside
89
Tomatoes lined up on the kitchen windowsill
Summer corn
Two- or three-shower days

we have way too much corn.

Thirteen ears, to be exact—purchased because the price of 10 ears (which we needed) was the same as a baker's dozen (which we didn't).

So Rob grilled all of it, and we'll use what we need for tonight's dinner: Grilled salmon, yellow potato & corn salad. The recipe comes from a nifty Williams-Sonoma grilling book that Mom gave Rob last weekend.

Oh, and we should mention the wine: J sparkler, in honor of our 17th (count 'em) wedding anniversary.

Exactly 18 years ago, Rob led me up the hill in Mt. Adams toward the Church of the Immaculata, which has an amazing view of downtown. Were ostensibly in Mt. Adams to have an after-dinner cocktail at the Blind Lemon, but Rob convinced me the view was worth a look. As we walked I remember noticing that he had his hand in his pocket, which was unusual. We got to the overlook, and he stood tight behind me, and as I leaned into his chest, I felt his heart pounding. He proposed right then and there, and I've never forgotten the moment.

I still think he's hot.

how hot is it?

It's so hot that we bagged on the Reds tickets we had for tonight's game. We're keeping things watered, so the yard looks none the worse for wear. The lettuce has probably crossed the line into bitter and tough, thanks to the heat. The cherry tomatoes are all splitting, so the ones I picked tonight are destined for a roasting pan with pressed garlic, olive oil and some dried herbs, and then probably on to the freezer.

It's so hot that the usual bird chatter that serenades our morning walk has been silent. So hot that Rob doesn't want to play golf. Oh, wait ... it's not THAT hot.

oh my goodness.

Rob just did something blog-worthy: He opened a bottle of 1997 Robert Mondavi Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon.

Oh, my.

We've just poured into our ginormous red wine glasses and are waiting for it to open up and settle before taking a sip.

Dinner tonight definitely merits this killer bottle: Grilled steaks over sliced tomatoes, sauteed green beans from the garden, crusty bread. Not to mention the unparalleled company of my two boys.

Years ago, when Mondavi was still an independent, publicly traded company (before it the family squabbled, sold the business and watched it lose some of its luster), we bought Mondavi stock. It was a fairly minor investment -- basically, just enough to score us a wicked discount at the winery and access to their VIP tasting room (which poured a hundred bucks worth of wines, easy, just at the tasting). We bought this bottle at the winery and stashed it away for a special occasion. Like an otherwise ordinary Saturday night @ 645.

The first sip: Unbelievable. It's brick red. Huge. Full-bodied, still a bit punchy on the tongue but smooth on the finish.

Oh my.

oh, beans.

We're looking at a bumper crop of green beans this year: I planted four rows (two rows at two weeks apart) and we've just now started picking. They're tender, tiny and incredibly flavorful. The first handful went into a saute of fresh corn, fresh sweet onion and summer squash. The next batch will get sauteed in lemon olive oil. Delish!

going left.

Monday through Friday, around 7 a.m., Rob and I take Wrigley on his morning constitutional. This happens pretty much without fail; it's become one of our (many) routines.

We walk to the end of the cul-de-sac, make a right, and walk up the hill and through the neighborhood, about a half-hour loop. Just enough to get, er, things moving in the morning.

If we're headed out on a longer walk—say, during an evening or weekend—we typically make a left, walk down the hill, cross the street, take the steps over to Ellison and go off on any number of routes: through Mt. Lookout Square and up to Hyde Park Square, perhaps up Delta Avenue and through the neighborhoods to the north and east of us, or maybe all the way to Coffee Emporium on Erie. On those routes, there are any number of spots where Wrigley can score a biscuit: at the fire station, at Carl's, at Sassy Boutique or Poeme on Michigan Avenue.

Some weekday mornings, in spite of the ingrained nature of our routine, Wrigley will tug on his lead and try to make a left turn onto Kroger Avenue. We tell him we wish we had more time to take a longer walk, but we both have to go to work and we need to take the quick route. So we steer him to the right and on up the hill.

But I think Wrigley's onto something. When it's a nice morning, and you've got a bit of energy, why not take a longer stroll? Why not enjoy the outdoors?

Why NOT go left?

coming full circle, part deux.

Since we've come home from New Jersey (nearly a year ago, officially as of July 7), we often marvel at the things that we've settled back into here that we really enjoyed.

Like the Hyde Park Blast.

It's a July 4 (ish) run/walk/community celebration that we really like. Today, Rob ran, and Wrigley and I walked. Rob finished third (hooray!) and looked mighty fine doing so. Wrigley and I made pretty good time, with the dog pulling at the leash the whole way and feeling good. One person (of the many folks who asked about Wrigley's breed) said he looked happy. He did. And does. It was such a joy to watch him trotting along, healthy and happy. We all scored some eats at the end of the race (and a Christian Moerlein, which tasted amazingly good for 9:00 in the morning).

Life is good. Ridiculously good.

Now, we're on the Side Porch, enjoying some fan-freakin'-tastic wine and some good tunes. Wrigley is cashed out. There are delightful summertime sounds coming from the pool across the street. A gentle breeze blows. The sun is setting behind a scrim of clouds, casting a neat glow through the lattice on the west end of the porch. A young cardinal chirps on the overhead power line. Fireworks pop in the distance.

Life IS good.

the wayback machine.

Prompted by a bit of summer nostalgia (and a bit of wine) last night, I headed to the basement in search of some old Gnaw Bone Camp memorabilia. All of the ephemera from my grade school-through-college days is sorted and stuffed into a plastic bin under the basement stairs. I didn't manage to get down deep enough into the bin to find what I was originally after, because I came across some old letters from Rob at the top of the pile. We wrote each other weekly, sometimes several times a week, when we were dating and apart during our summer breaks. The letter that grabbed me had a return address of our first apartment: 2200 Madison Road, #17, Cincinnati -- with a parenthetical note that read, "OK, so I'm not living here yet, but I will be in a couple of days." Rob wrote about "the place" (which we called the apartment; technically, it wasn't OUR place) and about how much fun we were destined to have not just the next time I visited Cincinnati, but in all the years to come. We hadn't, at that point, talked outright about getting married, although it was just a few months before our engagement (I'll save that story for another post!) and we knew we wanted to spend forever together.

Rob was right: things ARE great in all the years to come.