Now that we've gotten into a routine, I find that I get a lot of really awesome one-on-one time with my kids. Each are in different sports and sometimes those games conflict.
Typically when I'm with the kids, they are arguing - the typical stuff. One of them is on another's side, one said that she hates the other (usually it is Rowan doing the hating), one of them looked at the other the wrong way, nefarious schemes to hide a new toy when we return home, something notable to be seen is not viewable from someone's own personal window, etc.
However, the world opens up when I'm on my own with one of the kids. Rowan loves to accompany me to the farmers' market and to the shopping center. In fact, she has made it a strict rule that only she is allowed to go to the farmers' market with me. No boys allowed. I think she likes it because I let her get something when we see the Hello Kitty lady. She's a random lady that imports Hello Kitty fabric from Japan and makes skirts, dresses and purses from it. She also sells handmade, crocheted Hello Kitty dolls. Pretty much the only reason to visit a farmers' market. But I digress.
Rowan will chat with me for the duration of our trip. She could just run a monologue; our times together are mostly her singing me songs from school, telling me the proper way to say things, telling me about what happens at school, with her friends, etc. I thoroughly enjoy her insights. She usually sings the New Zealand national anthem in Maori and English at some point.
Seth has deep questions and opinions to discuss. On Saturday on our way to his rugby game, we talked about skeletons, nuclear bombs, why some countries hate other countries, and where kidneys are located in our bodies. He was surprised that his kidneys are not located "down by [his] penis." Always thinking, that guy! Actually, thats where I would have thought they were, too, at his age. Not by his, but mine.
No, wait, that came out all wrong.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Accent Grave
I've been wondering how long it will take for some of our family members to develop accents. Gary is constantly told he sounds exactly like an American at work, and also by our nephew.
Seth is pretty staunch. I don't think he will ever sway from his generic American drawl.
However, Rowan is marching down the road towards Kiwi lingo. I think her first decision to do so was when they were reading a story in class. I happened to be there that day. It was a clue story, so the teacher read, "I'm fast, I have black and white stripes, I am a. . ." and Rowan shouted first before any of her classmates, "ZEEbra!" The other classmates shouted, "ZEHbra!"
Her face went beet red and she looked around at me in horror. I had been teaching her incorrect pronunciation her whole life! I was in for it when I got home.
Here are her adaptations:
1. Mum - switching interchangeably between Mum and Mom (Seth told me adamantly that he will call me Mom forever. Done.)
2. Again - she pronounces it very carefully as "agayne"
3. Tomato - it's toMAHto, not toMAYto
4. Banana - baNAWna not baNAHna
5. Together - dropping the "r," as in "Mum, can Cara and I walk home togethah?"
It's pretty cute. She also likes to correct our pronunciation. She still sounds really American but with enough perserverance, study and hard work (which I think she's trying) she will sound Kiwi through and through - I give it around a year.
As it turns out, I have an accent - a Canadian one. Everyone thinks I'm from Canada, and when I tell them I'm from America, they start chatting about guns.
Seth is pretty staunch. I don't think he will ever sway from his generic American drawl.
However, Rowan is marching down the road towards Kiwi lingo. I think her first decision to do so was when they were reading a story in class. I happened to be there that day. It was a clue story, so the teacher read, "I'm fast, I have black and white stripes, I am a. . ." and Rowan shouted first before any of her classmates, "ZEEbra!" The other classmates shouted, "ZEHbra!"
Her face went beet red and she looked around at me in horror. I had been teaching her incorrect pronunciation her whole life! I was in for it when I got home.
Here are her adaptations:
1. Mum - switching interchangeably between Mum and Mom (Seth told me adamantly that he will call me Mom forever. Done.)
2. Again - she pronounces it very carefully as "agayne"
3. Tomato - it's toMAHto, not toMAYto
4. Banana - baNAWna not baNAHna
5. Together - dropping the "r," as in "Mum, can Cara and I walk home togethah?"
It's pretty cute. She also likes to correct our pronunciation. She still sounds really American but with enough perserverance, study and hard work (which I think she's trying) she will sound Kiwi through and through - I give it around a year.
As it turns out, I have an accent - a Canadian one. Everyone thinks I'm from Canada, and when I tell them I'm from America, they start chatting about guns.
Monday, April 15, 2013
Murders and Confessions
We recenly had a new roommate chilling with us. She was beautiful, with high cheekbones, a heart shaped face, and large expressive eyes. A pair of antenna on her like you've never seen before.
Her name was Beatrix. She spent a lot of time in the bathroom, then moved to the kitchen for awhile, reducing the moth population significantly. Then she decided to check out the dining room for a little action.
There she met her maker. A member of her own household. A sociopath who played with her a bit before he bit her beautifully formed head off and chowed down on her body like he hadn't eaten in a week.
That's right, we've got a cat.
The confession is mostly mine. In a moment of loneliness on Valentine's day, I adopted this little gray kitten who had been rescued by a policeman from a park. When he was brought to the vet's office his eyes were crusted shut. The vet nursed him back to health and I couldn't resist him when I saw him.
The kids have named him Rigby. I imagine that he subsisted on wetas and people's leftover takeaways from rubbish bins (like my lingo?), because he will eat anything at all if you're willing to share. His favorites are butter cookies with jam in the middle and hummus.
He likes to snuggle and his favorite place to munch on a freshly caught, crunchy cockroach is between me and Gary at 2 AM.
When I hunkered down to take a lovely photo of Beatrix (destined to be her last) I didn't know he was following me until I saw him pounce. At first I tried to rescue her but in the end, nature won out.
He doesn't even show remorse.
Her name was Beatrix. She spent a lot of time in the bathroom, then moved to the kitchen for awhile, reducing the moth population significantly. Then she decided to check out the dining room for a little action.
There she met her maker. A member of her own household. A sociopath who played with her a bit before he bit her beautifully formed head off and chowed down on her body like he hadn't eaten in a week.
That's right, we've got a cat.
The confession is mostly mine. In a moment of loneliness on Valentine's day, I adopted this little gray kitten who had been rescued by a policeman from a park. When he was brought to the vet's office his eyes were crusted shut. The vet nursed him back to health and I couldn't resist him when I saw him.
The kids have named him Rigby. I imagine that he subsisted on wetas and people's leftover takeaways from rubbish bins (like my lingo?), because he will eat anything at all if you're willing to share. His favorites are butter cookies with jam in the middle and hummus.
He likes to snuggle and his favorite place to munch on a freshly caught, crunchy cockroach is between me and Gary at 2 AM.
When I hunkered down to take a lovely photo of Beatrix (destined to be her last) I didn't know he was following me until I saw him pounce. At first I tried to rescue her but in the end, nature won out.
He doesn't even show remorse.
Monday, March 11, 2013
The Mystery of the Poo
The other day I opened one of the closets in the kids room. "Something in that laundry basket smells rank," said my husband.
Our washing machine was on the fritz last week, so I figured it was some laundry that we'd missed taking to the laundry place.
Have I ever mentioned that I love laundry service? All your clothes washed and meticulously folded for $30. That's for about 4 loads of laundry. I love it. I wish I could use it all the time. I might have to do a cost analysis on doing laundry ourselves vs. sending it to a laundry service.
But I digress. You want to know about the mystery of the poo.
Investigating the smell in the closet, there was definintely some sort of nasty stench. A nasty, earthy, rank pong. Sherlock Mom immediately turned to Seth. "Did you. . . have an accident and put the clothes in the basket?"
Hey, accidents happen. We all have had accidents in our lifetimes!
"No, I didn't! Gee, mom, why would you ACCUSE me of that!" he said belligerently. After many exchanges reassuring immunity from prosecution and reiterations of innocence, we took the basket out of the room.
The fug remained.
Gary and I started turning his shoes over to inspect the soles. Now, as far as I can tell, dog lovers are pretty diligent about cleaning up after their pets. But you never know what happened. There have been reported sightings of a hedgehog in our backyard. Something could have been stepped in and then put in the closet unknowingly.
"Ummmm, here's the source," said Gary. He pointed to a pair of shoes in Seth's closet. Sitting atop his flashy blue and orange Adidas was a fat, multicolored poo.
We sat in shock, staring at this unwelcome addition. What the? After cathartic discussion and Gary's toxic waste cleanup, we've come to two hypotheses.
1. Cat
Our house has two cat doors. Twice we've had visits from neighborhood cats. Once I was sitting on the sofa and an orange and white tabby walked through the hallway. Suddenly, he stopped in the doorway and stared at me, outraged that I had the audacity to be there. He turned and left promptly.
Another time, I woke up at 3 AM, and looked at our open bedroom door. Just then, a big black and white tuxedo cat streaked past the door on the way outside.
It is plausible that a cat somehow got into Seth's closet and had a potty break, but I tend to doubt it. Not so much that I doubt a cat would do that. I've known some psychotic cats in my life who would be quite capable of pooping in some random closet. No, the reason I doubt it is that I've had cats for most of my life and the size and shape of that turd didn't correspond to a typical cat poo.
I'm actually not proud to have that kind of knowledge.
Additionally, I keep all the closet doors closed. I can't stand a closet door or drawer left ajar. It is one of my pet peeves. That leads me to my second group of suspects.
2. Child
Children are funny. They're quirky. They like to play practical jokes. Sometimes, dare I say it - they are inappropriate.
My kids are friends with a couple of kids who are neighbors. Sometimes they get into fights. Usually the fights take the form of kicking someone in the mouth and vowing to never play with them again.
Is it possible that a child pooped in my son's closet, thinking it was the sweetest, funniest kind of revenge? I'm not ruling it out. Please let it be known that I am not excusing my own children of this suspicion. I'm nothing if not fair. Both of my children have been known to pee in the backyard because she's busy playing and didn't feel like making the trek inside to the toilet.
Believe me, I'm not bragging about this.
The only person I've ruled out of the possibilities is Seth. He would never poop on his own shoes, in his own closet. There are not many certainties in this world, but that is one I would never doubt.
I know I'll never get to the bottom of this intrigue. All I can do is hope that our closets remain poo-free in the future.
Our washing machine was on the fritz last week, so I figured it was some laundry that we'd missed taking to the laundry place.
Have I ever mentioned that I love laundry service? All your clothes washed and meticulously folded for $30. That's for about 4 loads of laundry. I love it. I wish I could use it all the time. I might have to do a cost analysis on doing laundry ourselves vs. sending it to a laundry service.
But I digress. You want to know about the mystery of the poo.
Investigating the smell in the closet, there was definintely some sort of nasty stench. A nasty, earthy, rank pong. Sherlock Mom immediately turned to Seth. "Did you. . . have an accident and put the clothes in the basket?"
Hey, accidents happen. We all have had accidents in our lifetimes!
"No, I didn't! Gee, mom, why would you ACCUSE me of that!" he said belligerently. After many exchanges reassuring immunity from prosecution and reiterations of innocence, we took the basket out of the room.
The fug remained.
Gary and I started turning his shoes over to inspect the soles. Now, as far as I can tell, dog lovers are pretty diligent about cleaning up after their pets. But you never know what happened. There have been reported sightings of a hedgehog in our backyard. Something could have been stepped in and then put in the closet unknowingly.
"Ummmm, here's the source," said Gary. He pointed to a pair of shoes in Seth's closet. Sitting atop his flashy blue and orange Adidas was a fat, multicolored poo.
We sat in shock, staring at this unwelcome addition. What the? After cathartic discussion and Gary's toxic waste cleanup, we've come to two hypotheses.
1. Cat
Our house has two cat doors. Twice we've had visits from neighborhood cats. Once I was sitting on the sofa and an orange and white tabby walked through the hallway. Suddenly, he stopped in the doorway and stared at me, outraged that I had the audacity to be there. He turned and left promptly.
Another time, I woke up at 3 AM, and looked at our open bedroom door. Just then, a big black and white tuxedo cat streaked past the door on the way outside.
It is plausible that a cat somehow got into Seth's closet and had a potty break, but I tend to doubt it. Not so much that I doubt a cat would do that. I've known some psychotic cats in my life who would be quite capable of pooping in some random closet. No, the reason I doubt it is that I've had cats for most of my life and the size and shape of that turd didn't correspond to a typical cat poo.
I'm actually not proud to have that kind of knowledge.
Additionally, I keep all the closet doors closed. I can't stand a closet door or drawer left ajar. It is one of my pet peeves. That leads me to my second group of suspects.
2. Child
Children are funny. They're quirky. They like to play practical jokes. Sometimes, dare I say it - they are inappropriate.
My kids are friends with a couple of kids who are neighbors. Sometimes they get into fights. Usually the fights take the form of kicking someone in the mouth and vowing to never play with them again.
Is it possible that a child pooped in my son's closet, thinking it was the sweetest, funniest kind of revenge? I'm not ruling it out. Please let it be known that I am not excusing my own children of this suspicion. I'm nothing if not fair. Both of my children have been known to pee in the backyard because she's busy playing and didn't feel like making the trek inside to the toilet.
Believe me, I'm not bragging about this.
The only person I've ruled out of the possibilities is Seth. He would never poop on his own shoes, in his own closet. There are not many certainties in this world, but that is one I would never doubt.
I know I'll never get to the bottom of this intrigue. All I can do is hope that our closets remain poo-free in the future.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Watching It
Being in a new country, it's very fun to check out new shows. Sports here seems to be made up of rugby, cricket and horse-and-buggy racing. I kid you not about the horse-and-buggy racing. One of the channels we have seems to be made up of only horse-and-buggy racing.
Of course, we get some American shows, which means I'll be able to keep watching Modern Family and things like that. But the best are these new shows. Additionally, New Zealand doesn't edit out swearing or nudity after a certain hour, so you get shows uncensored. Which has it's good and it's bad points.
Hands down, my favorite is Come Dine With Me, and it's Canadian counterpart, Dinner Party Wars. http://www.channel4.com/programmes/come-dine-with-me
In this show, three or four people get together and host dinner parties. They give scores to the host/ess based on the quality of the food, the entertainment, etc. You know how sometimes you watch a game show and think, "I could totally win that?" Yeah. I could win that. The winner (highest scores) gets $1,000. Or rather, 1,000 pounds. No pound symbol on my keyboard, I'm afraid.
My favorite episode was one where the hostess said that anytime there was a lull in the conversation, she'd just talk about her boobs, which went down a treat with the lady who was uncomfortable with any kind of sexual banter. The second lady? She was a horse-and-buggy racer. You just can't escape it.
Another show I enjoyed is Geordie Shore (http://www.mtv.com.au/shows/featured/geordie-shore-3). Gary and I watched this quite happily a couple of times, thinking it was a British spoof of Jersey Shore. Then we discovered, no - they are real people. Wh-wh-what? The shine dulled a little when we found that out. We still let the channel linger sometimes when we pass by and Geordie Shore in on. They curse quite a bit in it, but I admit most of the time I don't understand the accent and later go, "Ohhh, that's what they were saying. Naughties!"
"Gaz and Sharon is like a Rubik's Cube. No ma'ah how hard you get them colors to work - it just won't go." That's poetry. Think of Daisy, from Downton Abbey, totally trashed, with peroxided hair, wearing a bikini and making out with. . . no, even that doesn't do it justice. People say, "Innit?" a lot on that show. One of them is destined to be a horse-and-buggy racer. I'm sure of it.
Embarrassing Bodies (http://www.channel4embarrassingillnesses.com/) is another that you can't look away from, no matter how much you wish you would. It features things like - the girl who hates her feet so much that she refuses to take her socks off, ever. So she showers in her socks. Then takes them off in 5 seconds and puts on new socks. If I explain to you the state of her feet, you would probably vomit.
Then there is the woman who thought she had thrush for 9 years. Turns out she had something else and would have saved herself 8 years and 11 months of agony if she had gone to the doctor for it instead of just buying more topical cream. I might be over-simplifying it a touch. But when it's painful to your "minge" just to walk - don't you think it's time you asked your doctor about it? Maybe book in for, say, a common cold and then say, casually, "Oh yeah, doctor - can I ask you about another thing?" You probably don't even need to look each other in the eye. I know I, for one, could not tell you the color of my ob/gyn's eyes. But his shoes are wicked cool New Balance ones. I feel the need to tell you also, that her exam was right there on TV for all of posterity to view. I can't imagine her calling her friends and saying, "Oh by the way, I'm going to be on TV tonight - set your TiVos!"
Note to self: Minge is a great name for a new pet.
Finally, the Embarrassing Bodies person who I hope got paid handsomely for his participation, was an older guy who, ahem. Has some leakage problems, or so he thought. People in a pub could smell him after he'd, to coin a phrase from my brother, dropped his kids off at the pool. After his examination - which, let me tell you, they show in full, non-pixellated glory, the doctor says, "I don't see anything - you just haven't wiped well enough." WHAT??? "Try a high fiber diet. That may change the quality of your output."
Thanks, doc! You'll all be happy to know that it worked. It worked wonders and led him to revamp his whole image! He came to his follow up appointment wearing a wildly patterened shirt and sporting highlighted bangs.
Now I have to book my own appointment - preferably someone with a white-hot sterilized needle who can remove the memory of watching a man get an anal exam on television. Or maybe next time I'll stick to horse-and-buggy racing.
Of course, we get some American shows, which means I'll be able to keep watching Modern Family and things like that. But the best are these new shows. Additionally, New Zealand doesn't edit out swearing or nudity after a certain hour, so you get shows uncensored. Which has it's good and it's bad points.
Hands down, my favorite is Come Dine With Me, and it's Canadian counterpart, Dinner Party Wars. http://www.channel4.com/programmes/come-dine-with-me
In this show, three or four people get together and host dinner parties. They give scores to the host/ess based on the quality of the food, the entertainment, etc. You know how sometimes you watch a game show and think, "I could totally win that?" Yeah. I could win that. The winner (highest scores) gets $1,000. Or rather, 1,000 pounds. No pound symbol on my keyboard, I'm afraid.
My favorite episode was one where the hostess said that anytime there was a lull in the conversation, she'd just talk about her boobs, which went down a treat with the lady who was uncomfortable with any kind of sexual banter. The second lady? She was a horse-and-buggy racer. You just can't escape it.
Another show I enjoyed is Geordie Shore (http://www.mtv.com.au/shows/featured/geordie-shore-3). Gary and I watched this quite happily a couple of times, thinking it was a British spoof of Jersey Shore. Then we discovered, no - they are real people. Wh-wh-what? The shine dulled a little when we found that out. We still let the channel linger sometimes when we pass by and Geordie Shore in on. They curse quite a bit in it, but I admit most of the time I don't understand the accent and later go, "Ohhh, that's what they were saying. Naughties!"
"Gaz and Sharon is like a Rubik's Cube. No ma'ah how hard you get them colors to work - it just won't go." That's poetry. Think of Daisy, from Downton Abbey, totally trashed, with peroxided hair, wearing a bikini and making out with. . . no, even that doesn't do it justice. People say, "Innit?" a lot on that show. One of them is destined to be a horse-and-buggy racer. I'm sure of it.
Embarrassing Bodies (http://www.channel4embarrassingillnesses.com/) is another that you can't look away from, no matter how much you wish you would. It features things like - the girl who hates her feet so much that she refuses to take her socks off, ever. So she showers in her socks. Then takes them off in 5 seconds and puts on new socks. If I explain to you the state of her feet, you would probably vomit.
Then there is the woman who thought she had thrush for 9 years. Turns out she had something else and would have saved herself 8 years and 11 months of agony if she had gone to the doctor for it instead of just buying more topical cream. I might be over-simplifying it a touch. But when it's painful to your "minge" just to walk - don't you think it's time you asked your doctor about it? Maybe book in for, say, a common cold and then say, casually, "Oh yeah, doctor - can I ask you about another thing?" You probably don't even need to look each other in the eye. I know I, for one, could not tell you the color of my ob/gyn's eyes. But his shoes are wicked cool New Balance ones. I feel the need to tell you also, that her exam was right there on TV for all of posterity to view. I can't imagine her calling her friends and saying, "Oh by the way, I'm going to be on TV tonight - set your TiVos!"
Note to self: Minge is a great name for a new pet.
Finally, the Embarrassing Bodies person who I hope got paid handsomely for his participation, was an older guy who, ahem. Has some leakage problems, or so he thought. People in a pub could smell him after he'd, to coin a phrase from my brother, dropped his kids off at the pool. After his examination - which, let me tell you, they show in full, non-pixellated glory, the doctor says, "I don't see anything - you just haven't wiped well enough." WHAT??? "Try a high fiber diet. That may change the quality of your output."
Thanks, doc! You'll all be happy to know that it worked. It worked wonders and led him to revamp his whole image! He came to his follow up appointment wearing a wildly patterened shirt and sporting highlighted bangs.
Now I have to book my own appointment - preferably someone with a white-hot sterilized needle who can remove the memory of watching a man get an anal exam on television. Or maybe next time I'll stick to horse-and-buggy racing.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Bugging Us
New Zealand is full of critters. The nice thing about it is that most of them are friendly. It has been a big change coming from Arizona, where you need to be wary of most of the bugs and creepies out there, to come here, where most of them are harmless.
The first couple of days, our kids would scream bloody murder when they saw ants. "Ants! Ants! Don't let them get on me!" they'd yell. Others would look at us puzzled. Ants, apparently, usually do not bite here. There are also a fair few of them around. Once I found them climbing in orderly rows down my curtain rod to munch on crumbs from Seth's breakfast under the dining room table. Creepy but probably not painful.
We see lots of spiders at our place too. Short fat black ones, some with long spindly legs, little hopping ones. Those suckers are industrious, too. You can have a new web all over a corner within an hour. Seems a shame to brush it away.
There's a plant outside our front door that the movers told us attracted monarch butterflies. He said that they lay their eggs on it and soon there will be lots f caterpillars. He may have just been messing with us, but we do have lots of butterflies swooping around outside. Rowan has adopted them all and asked me to get a net so she can keep a few in jam jars. Which is just what they want out of life, I'm sure.
Cicadas, snails, moths - and don't get me started on the birds. There's a pair of mynah birds livingin the tree outside. They like to fix me with their beady eyes to let me know they wouldn't be averse to a few leftover toast crusts once in awhile. There is a constant buzzing, chirping, warbing and singing going on outide.
My favorite, though, was last week when Rowan was making friends with a new, weird looking bug (a praying mantis). The mantis was on our staircase leading to the front door and she was hanging out there talking to it and singing it songs. A few minutes later she ambled inside.
"How's it going with the bug?" I asked. She looked at me, chagrinned, and said, "It's so sad, mommy - that poor bug killed itself."
"Oh?" I asked, stymied. "How'd that happen?"
"Well - he climbed right up to my shoe, and then squashed himself up on my shoe. Because I was scared of him. It was kinda an accident. He shouldn't have scared me like that."
Tragedy, indeed.
The first couple of days, our kids would scream bloody murder when they saw ants. "Ants! Ants! Don't let them get on me!" they'd yell. Others would look at us puzzled. Ants, apparently, usually do not bite here. There are also a fair few of them around. Once I found them climbing in orderly rows down my curtain rod to munch on crumbs from Seth's breakfast under the dining room table. Creepy but probably not painful.
We see lots of spiders at our place too. Short fat black ones, some with long spindly legs, little hopping ones. Those suckers are industrious, too. You can have a new web all over a corner within an hour. Seems a shame to brush it away.
There's a plant outside our front door that the movers told us attracted monarch butterflies. He said that they lay their eggs on it and soon there will be lots f caterpillars. He may have just been messing with us, but we do have lots of butterflies swooping around outside. Rowan has adopted them all and asked me to get a net so she can keep a few in jam jars. Which is just what they want out of life, I'm sure.
Cicadas, snails, moths - and don't get me started on the birds. There's a pair of mynah birds livingin the tree outside. They like to fix me with their beady eyes to let me know they wouldn't be averse to a few leftover toast crusts once in awhile. There is a constant buzzing, chirping, warbing and singing going on outide.
My favorite, though, was last week when Rowan was making friends with a new, weird looking bug (a praying mantis). The mantis was on our staircase leading to the front door and she was hanging out there talking to it and singing it songs. A few minutes later she ambled inside.
"How's it going with the bug?" I asked. She looked at me, chagrinned, and said, "It's so sad, mommy - that poor bug killed itself."
"Oh?" I asked, stymied. "How'd that happen?"
"Well - he climbed right up to my shoe, and then squashed himself up on my shoe. Because I was scared of him. It was kinda an accident. He shouldn't have scared me like that."
Tragedy, indeed.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Uneven Exchange
We've been slowly gathering new furnishings for our house here. Our favorite site is www.trademe.co.nz. It's an online auction site. I have gotten really addicted to it. We have purchased beds, beside tables, dining table, etc. My favorite purchase so far has been a leather two seater couch and armchair for $37. I'm sure we will be getting what we pay for but hey, it will stand up to kids! Paint that sucker with Kool-Aid and lollipops, it only cost $37!
Gary's aunt and uncle are also moving to a new place and they have been extraordinarily generous. They gave us a sleeper couch and loveseat, mirror, heater, bedside table, queen bed and dressers. This furniture will NOT be painted with Kool-Aid and lollipops. They also stored it for us and rented a van to help move it. We are so grateful!
So Saturday when Gary's uncle moved our stuff over to our house, I made lunch. I made some really tasty burgers but my favorite was this very easy salad. Probably to make it really fancy you should do some extra steps so I've included those plus my own steps
Grilled Peach Salad
4 small to medium peaches, skin on
1 bunch of arugula (or if you're lazy like me, one of those mixed-leaf bags of salad)
1 ball fresh mozzarella (or if you can't find it, like I couldn't, then a round of goat cheese)
1 small red onion, thinly sliced
1 batch fresh homemade balsamic vinaigrette (or if you can't be bothered, like me, a bottle of Newman's Own Lite Vinaigrette)
Salt and Pepper
Wash and halve the peaches. Make sure they're ripe! Hard peaches won't do it for you.
Go heat up your grill. Stack the coals on one side of the grill so you get some direct heat and indire-
Who am I kidding?
Get out a grill pan or plain griddle. Heat it up on high heat on the stove. Put the peaches, cut side down, and sear until caramelized on one side. Flip and sear again on other side. You'll have one caramelized spot on the peach fuzz. That's all you need. The key is a yielding, warm peach; it doesn't have to be sauteed all over.
Wash your salad mix and dry thoroughly. Place in bowl. Crumble goat cheese on top, or tear up your mozzarella and place it on top. Put red onion on top. Toss. Put warm peaches on top of salad. Serve!
I always leave the salad dressing aside so people can add it as they choose. This was a tasty summer lunch salad! I would imagine grilled chicken would taste great on this as well.
I wish I had a picture of this to post. Use your imagination!
Eat in your sun room, looking out at the bay. You know, as you do.
Gary's aunt and uncle are also moving to a new place and they have been extraordinarily generous. They gave us a sleeper couch and loveseat, mirror, heater, bedside table, queen bed and dressers. This furniture will NOT be painted with Kool-Aid and lollipops. They also stored it for us and rented a van to help move it. We are so grateful!
So Saturday when Gary's uncle moved our stuff over to our house, I made lunch. I made some really tasty burgers but my favorite was this very easy salad. Probably to make it really fancy you should do some extra steps so I've included those plus my own steps
Grilled Peach Salad
4 small to medium peaches, skin on
1 bunch of arugula (or if you're lazy like me, one of those mixed-leaf bags of salad)
1 ball fresh mozzarella (or if you can't find it, like I couldn't, then a round of goat cheese)
1 small red onion, thinly sliced
1 batch fresh homemade balsamic vinaigrette (or if you can't be bothered, like me, a bottle of Newman's Own Lite Vinaigrette)
Salt and Pepper
Wash and halve the peaches. Make sure they're ripe! Hard peaches won't do it for you.
Go heat up your grill. Stack the coals on one side of the grill so you get some direct heat and indire-
Who am I kidding?
Get out a grill pan or plain griddle. Heat it up on high heat on the stove. Put the peaches, cut side down, and sear until caramelized on one side. Flip and sear again on other side. You'll have one caramelized spot on the peach fuzz. That's all you need. The key is a yielding, warm peach; it doesn't have to be sauteed all over.
Wash your salad mix and dry thoroughly. Place in bowl. Crumble goat cheese on top, or tear up your mozzarella and place it on top. Put red onion on top. Toss. Put warm peaches on top of salad. Serve!
I always leave the salad dressing aside so people can add it as they choose. This was a tasty summer lunch salad! I would imagine grilled chicken would taste great on this as well.
I wish I had a picture of this to post. Use your imagination!
Eat in your sun room, looking out at the bay. You know, as you do.
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