Miguelina

The Cape

I've always lived near the beach, which means that I pretty much took sand, warm water and palm trees for granted. Until I moved to New England, that is. Now, in this land of the eternal winter, I crave nothing more than a sipping a mojito while listening to steel drums, or in a pinch, Jimmy Buffett. Because, as any tropical beach bum will happily tell you, kitsch is an important part of the beach experience.

Massachusetts has its beaches - Nantucket and the Vineyard, and of course Cape Cod - but we've always escaped to Miami to get our beach fix. We felt the beaches here were too boring (there are no palm trees to be seen!), the dining too full of fried foods, the cost too exorbitant, and the weather too unpredictable to really make for an enjoyable beach vacation. I wanted my boys to have the memories that I had - of playing in the turquoise water, finding sand dollars and ducking jellyfish frying on the sand, of drinking water straight from coconuts. But I'm too pregnant to even consider going to Miami in the summer, and we never quite got our act together to fly anywhere so we were forced to plan a beach vacation here or make do with the sprinklers.

We booked a last-minute vacation and drove down Rt. 3. And then a funny thing happened: We fell in love with the Cape.

The boys didn't see any sea horses or dolphins, but they hunted for crabs of the hermit and not-so-hermit variety.

Instead of lying on hammocks strung between palm trees, we made our way to the beach on boardwalks over dunes and lush vegetation.

We were never guaranteed full sun, but it didn't matter to the boys. They still had fun digging holes that would get them "all the way to Australia!"

Instead of bougainvillea, there were beautiful blue hydrangeas everywhere.

We were surprised to show up at the beach one day during low tide and find that the waters had receded past the sea grass, making the beach twice as big and allowing the boys a peek at what lives under the beach rocks.

As I sat on my beach chair, enjoying the cool (yes, cool!) breeze and watching my boys splash away in the distance I realized that their childhood memories of the beach will be very different from mine.

That they will remember gray cottages and charming town main streets instead of colorful beach huts and endless miles of warm tropical sand.

That they will probably learn to appreciate fried clams instead of stone crabs.

I'm OK with that. Because while the kitsch may be different up here, the relaxed vibe is the same.

And that is what summer is all about.

Peonies Watch

So, this year's Spring garden left a lot to be desired -- no special post went up because I was too damned sick with allergies and whatnot to actually enjoy the flowers. So here, all you get is a shot of some potted gardenias I've plopped next to the garage:

We're pretty much overcome with weeds at this point, and since I have a very difficult time bending over to reach them I've told myself I'm pretty much over the glamour of gardening.  But then I noticed a curious thing:

My peonies! They're coming to life!

I planted this peony bush two years ago, and it has never flowered. In fact, last summer it "died" because I never watered it. I read somewhere that it takes up to five years for a peony to take root, and since they're my favorite flowers I was willing to take the chance.  So imagine my surprise to see the emerging blooms on my plucky little shrub. I'm not going to lie, I was excited.

The next day, I was rewarded with this:

I can't believe I planted this thing. I watered it (sometimes), and let's face it, neglected it, for two years -- and finally, FINALLY, my patience is being rewarded.

I love peonies, and not only because their name lends itself to bad puns.  I love how big and extravagant they are, I love their fragrance, I love them in centerpieces, and I love that they only bloom in June. They're the perfect middle-of-the-year pick-me up.

The Big O

Happy Inaugural Day! Isn't it exciting?

One of the things I love about Obama is his message of change and how that change is up to us. That means you and me.

Can you think of a better way to celebrate our new president than by heeding his call to service? I don't mean "someday", I mean RIGHT NOW? 

(Wait! Don't go away! I promise it's easy and you can make a big difference by doing something borderline ridiculous.)

Quaker is kicking off an anti-hunger initiative called Start with Substance. Their goal: To donate 1 million bowls of oatmeal to people who need it.

In honor of this program, the lovely people at Quaker are donating a case of oatmeal to the charity of my choice. Awesome, right? Just wait - it can get better, and it all depends on you.

My case of oatmeal is going to the Elizabeth Stone House - an organization here in Boston that empowers women and children who take that courageous first step to escape domestic violence. Sometimes women stay in abusive homes because they and their children have nowhere else to go - and that's where ESH steps in. They do everything from providing emergency housing and meals (oatmeal!), to teaching life skills that help these families break the cycle of violence. In their words:

The Elizabeth Stone House is committed to doing more than simply providing a safe space for women and children in need. If for example, a woman comes to us fleeing a batterer, it isn't enough for us to provide her with emergency shelter. We have to help her regain her sense of self, support her in her efforts to remain sober if she is struggling with substance abuse, provide help with her children, and guide her as she tries to straighten out her finances.

Talk about change you can believe in. These are good people doing good work.

Here's where it gets real good: In addition to giving away oatmeal, Quaker has challenged 25 bloggers to get as many people as possible to post pictures of themselves with the Quaker Oats Man on Quaker's Facebook page. If we (that's you and I) win the challenge, Quaker will write a $5,000 check to the Elizabeth Stone House.

Just think of how much good that money will do. And all you have to do is post a picture on Facebook - one like this:

Easy, right? I KNOW you've done sillier things on Facebook. And you've got to admit this totally beats Zombies.

Care to join me?

Here's how you can help:

1. Visit Start with Substance to get to Quaker's Facebook page and become a fan. (Don't forget to read the official rules!)

2. Download a picture of the Quaker Man, print it out, and take a picture of yourself and/or your family with it. (You can have fun, but keep it wholesome please! We're talking oatmeal here.)

3. Upload your picture to the fan photo page, grab the link (Send me an email if you need help) and leave a comment here with the link to your picture. (That's a lot of steps, I know. But look at all the wonderful people that have done their part already. JOIN US.)

4. Pictures and links must be posted in the next 24 hours so that Elizabeth Stone House gets credit. That means we have until 9 AM CST tomorrow, but why wait? Do it now! 

In addition, Quaker will send a $1.00 coupon to two of you as a thank you (I'll do a random drawing), but I suspect that's not why you're doing this. Let's get that $5,000 check to those women and children so they can have a safer tomorrow.

I voted for change

This morning I held a black marker and realized that at that moment I was the most powerful woman in the world. I could change the world with a stroke of that marker.

And I did:

Rainy day parade

We woke up to a rainy and cold July 4th - but that's certainly not enough to stop our New England town from holding its parade. You think a few droplets are going to hold us back?

(I apologize for the fuzzy pictures, it was early - er, my camera sucks.)

We enjoyed ourselves despite the rain. We got to see our usually reserved neighbors in a new light:

(There are no words.)

Heard some swinging jazz:

Got to see Minutemen march down the street:

And saw some cool rides:

Of course, what did the boys care about the most?

Story of my life.

Have a happy holiday weekend, everyone!

Super Zinnias

I bought a packet of zinnia seeds the other day. (I swear this isn't going to turn into a gardening blog.)

Let me explain why I bought seeds: My husband was out of town and I thought that planting them and watching them grow would be a fun educational activity for my three-year old. And I was desperate for something to do with the kid, so a $5.99 packet of seeds seemed like a great idea at the time. (The time being at the grocery store with two hungry kids and an entire afternoon to fill. All by myself. Did I mention that already? WOE IS ME.)

This may come as a shock to you, but the kid lost interest in planting the seeds after 3 minutes - coincidentally, the amount of time it took me to open the seed packet. He got bored with the seed-plant-flower life cycle and became fascinated with an earthworm. I wouldn't let him torture it with a twig, so he got angry and emptied the entire packet of seeds in one spot. And then we went inside the house because his screaming tantrum was scaring his little brother, and two screaming kids in the hot sun is No Fun At All.

What happened next? Nothing. I completely forgot about the flowers...until yesterday that is, when I noticed a bunch of seedlings growing in the general area where Sebastian had emptied the packet of seeds. I was honestly surprised that the seeds managed to thrive since I never watered or fed them or even bothered to cover them in dirt. Since those seeds survived such neglect, I figured the least I could do was thin them out. And that is how I spent a lovely Sunday morning: Carefully digging the seedlings out, prepping the earth, and replanting them in neat little rows. I then watered them and admired my handiwork for a bit.

It was a lot of work, but it was worth it. They looked so happy now that they could breathe!

My hands were already dirty, so I thought I might as well go back and tackle the scary corner of the yard that has become overgrown with weeds. (I should tell you, that's where the brown hairy spiders have made their home. Funny how that works.) However, I'd been such a gardening rockstar all morning that I wasn't going to let some furry insects stop me, no matter how scary and jumpy.

So I took a deep breath, got on my knees, and go to work.

It didn't take long for me to notice that the weeds looked...familiar - VERY familiar. I ripped one out of the ground and headed to my "zinnia" patch.

It was a perfect match.

I've either spent a perfectly fine Sunday morning lovingly and carefully thinning weeds or the spiders have been growing zinnias, and they're better at it than me. I'm pissed off either way.

The movies

So, I saw Sex and the City a couple of weekends ago. (My review is here if you want to know what I thought. Here's a hint: Meh.)

What's interesting is that I went to see it all by myself. I had agreed to review it for work, but my husband absolutely refused to go with me; not only because he wouldn't be caught dead watching SATC, but because the thought of paying $80 in babysitting fees to watch a chick flick wasn't enticing to either of us. And I had to go on relatively short notice, and since all my local girlfriends are moms they need about a week's notice to secure a sitter before they can have a night out. So I just took my keys and drove myself to a 6:00PM showing on a Sunday night. I was a little nervous about becoming the type of person that goes to the movies by herself, but what else was I going to do?

I'd never been to the movies by myself, and boy have I been missing out! It was AWESOME. I didn't have to make conversation with anyone - so ironically I ended up talking with other people at the theater. I got to enjoy the movie and think my own thoughts for 2 hours. The best part? I got to eat a movie-sized Kit Kat - ALL BY MYSELF. That's huge people. I think I'll go out by myself more often!

Also? I went to this local movie house - where they serve wine and beer. Loved it! If you live in Boston you should check it out. It's as old as West Newton and as quirky as the Coolidge, but with a coat of fresh paint and plenty of parking. I highly recommend it as well.

Instant Karma

I've been on a happy streak lately (have you noticed?) and I'm determined to make it last as long as possible. (Listen, I know it can't last forever, but you can't blame a girl for trying.) So when a woman blatantly cut in front of me at the check out line at Trader Joe's I did everything in my power not to tap her on the shoulder and explain to her that her RUDE MANEUVER did not go unnoticed. Instead I laughed (more like cackled maniacally) and looked around for a shorter line.

(For the curious, she was in another line and then pretended that she was going in front of me to look at the Graham Crackers on the display in my check-out lane. She picked them up, started "reading" the label, put them back and then just stood there. HELLO? RUDE MANEUVER.)

I decided that I wasn't going anywhere, I was just going to stand really close to her and do my best to make her uncomfortable while holding on to my happiness (dammit!), when the store manager tapped me on the shoulder and opened a register just for me.

Ha!

To make things even sweeter, he rang up my groceries in record time so she was still in line as I was exiting the store. I waved goodbye (which she had to pretend not to see - after all I had been invisible but a few minutes before) and her cashier smiled and waved back in that earnest Trader Joe's way, further slowing her down.

BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

Karma, you're quite lovely sometimes. Thank you.

Florimania

It all started with the tulip bulbs we planted last October:

When I got the coupon offering $25 worth of free bulbs, I thought "why not?", and sent in an order for the cheapest bulbs in the catalog: 50 red tulips for $24.99. As an added bonus, they said they'd throw in a few "fancy" types. They weren't kidding:

When the bulbs arrived in October I bundled up Sebastian and we planted the bulbs in front of the house. We had a fun, if frigid, afternoon digging in the dirt and promptly forgot about our tulips until they made their presence known in the earliest days of spring.

Those stiff stalks peeking through the last bits of ice and snow gave me hope that Spring would come and give us glorious days like the last few we've been enjoying round these parts.

Spring is here, and our home has surprised us with the absolute beauty of the plants in our front garden and backyard. My allergies are KILLING me, but we definitely have a "Spring Garden" and I love it.

I love flowers. I really, really do.

We moved in last summer, when all that was blooming was the huge Rhododenron in the back of the yard, and I remember how boring I thought our yard was. I envied the neighbors. So I've spent the last few days buying plants that will extend the flowering season in our little corner of the world. I'm not a natural gardener, so I've been educating myself and thinking about what I want. So far, I've planted white peonies and white hydrangeas in the hope of creating a moon garden we can enjoy while grilling dinner under the stars.

Let's see what happens come July. I'm hopeful we won't kill anything. For now, I'm enjoying reading under the intoxicating fragrance of our baby lilacs.

It's time...

(Su voto es su voz.)