16 Aug
Must come to an end.
After more three and a half years at Lawrence Montessori, Ava is ready to move on. To celebrate her last day of Kindergarten, she brought cupcakes to share with her classmates, and hand-decorated coffee cups to give to her teachers and assistants. She was a bit sad this morning, but she’s very much looking forward to tomorrow!
Ava with Purviz, her first preschool teacher and the owner of Lawrence Montessori School:
Ava with Ji-Young, her Kindergarten teacher:
Onward!
14 Aug
A colleague of mine recently moved the country to operate a farm. They grow farmstand crops like tomatoes, greens, garlic and melons, and they also raise chickens and goats. They have been supplying my favorite restaurant with goat meat this summer, though I haven’t been in when it’s been on the menu. So, it took matters into my own hands and purchased goat chops at the farmers’ market last week.
Bryan informed me he was NOT EATING GOAT, so I invited Tom over Thursday evening—thankfully, he was game. We marinated the chops in lemon juice, olive oil and fresh herbs, and grilled them until they were medium rare. They were mild and moist, and tasted very much like pork chops. We served them with fresh tomatoes and feta. Definitely something we’ll try again!
13 Aug
When Katie and I were little, Gramma Great would help us make paper chains to count down the days before Christmas. About a month ago, we made one for Ava to help her keep track of the start date for first grade. After this morning, there’s only three left!
9 Aug
We are still basking in the glow of a weekend with Debbie, Jason, Leo, Wyatt and Sylvia. Come back soon!
8 Aug
August 8th marks a sad day for our family. As I added the year next to my signature this morning, I realized this particular August 8th marks 10 years since we received the heartbreaking, but unsurprising, call about Grandma Dankleff.
Ten years? Is that even possible?
On one hand, ten years seems like no time at all, considering I can still hear her voice and recall exactly how she would answer the phone when I dialed. I can easily picture her hands—almond shaped nails and a new brushed gold wedding band, the original having worn through after decades of contact with a tractor’s steering wheel. I can smell the coffee in the pot on the counter, brewed and waiting for Grandpa, who was soon to come in from the field.
But while these memories are still very fresh, much has changed in the past decade.
The last time I saw Grandma, I showed her photos of the house we had just purchased–a small, two bedroom ranch in Madison. I remember she asked about the orientation of the driveway, concerned about the combination of a fierce wind and the snowy winter to come. Now, we’re in a new home, in a state to the south of hers. We have graduate degrees and evolving careers.
Ten years ago, I hadn’t considered much in the way of starting a family. Now, I have spent the past six years wondering what Grandma would think of my daughters, and wondering if Ava and her sister will even believe the stories I will eventually share, or if they will just assume they’ve grown grandiose as they swirled in my mind over the years.
Her last instructions were to “take care of each other,” and I believe we’ve done a relatively good job of that. It hasn’t always been particularly easy to navigate relationships without her presence and guidance, but I had 23 years to learn from her example. Ten years later, I still wish I’d had 20 more.
8 Aug
Last week, when the actual air temperature hit 113 degrees and water from the sprinkler evaporated before it even hit the sidewalk, the summer felt truly unbearable.
My dad called last Wednesday morning, suggesting we meet near Sabetha for an afternoon of fishing on Pony Creek Lake. Despite a forecast high of 97 degrees, I decided to move a few meetings and head north. I’m glad I did–the temperature dropped 10 degrees as I made my way toward the Nebraska border, and a breeze kept us relatively cool that afternoon.
We had a great time–the lake was quiet and gorgeous, and I very much enjoyed spending the day with Dad.
While the fish weren’t biting, the flies were. At one point I said, “When flies bite, doesn’t that mean it’s going to rain?” He responded, “Nope, it means the flies are biting.”A fair point, I suppose, as evidenced by the fact it didn’t actually rain.
But, yesterday–a day after the incredible heat finally broke–I found myself relatively certain it was going to rain . . . no old wives’ tales needed.
7 Aug
Olivia seems to know exactly how to ellict a “yes” from me when we’re shopping together…
3 Aug
Ava: Mom, when I am finally old enough to go out on my own, I am going to leave this house, and then walk and walk and walk until I find the people that make Dora the Explorer. And then, when I find them, I am going to tell them to stop. Because this is terrible.
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