The Letter I Wish I could Actually Send

To Whom it may Concern:

You are just a group of fools sitting around a big board-room table if you don't accept Samantha into your prestigious college or university- not that I'm even a little worried.  This kid is smarter and wiser than any adult I know, and her sense of what is good and right is eerily angelic.  Sam is an outstanding listener, counselor, and friend in general to all her peers.  Sam tends to know what's best in most situations.  I must admit, this is also true in my home when she watches over my three children (all under the age of 5).  While I spend most nights tugging, pushing, coaxing and finally giving up and watching the girls as they finally fall asleep, exhausted from their various tantrums, Samantha pops over for an evening, somehow gets them in their pj's, teeth-brushed, and actually in their own beds on time and-- get this-- they go to sleep almost instantly.  This all happens with ease, without fail, every time I leave my hero Sam with our children.

As an obvious aside, the kid is like a genius.  She's taken a zillion AP courses in high school, belongs to all kinds of various academic, athletic, and philanthropic groups, and all the while she has time for her family.  Oh and she reads The New Yorker for fun.  This ain't your average kid.  Did I tell you she works too?  And on a farm where there's real labor to be done?  Samantha is not a complainer.  She is hip and classy, fun, beautiful and attractively dorky, athletic and charming-- an all-around wonderful person.  I can't say enough about Sam, other than that I can't imagine the rest of the world sees her any other way.  She belongs wherever she wants to be.

In conclusion, if Samantha chooses to be a part of your college or university community, you will be luckier for it.  Your family will be a warmer, smarter, happier place too.

Sincerely,
Sam's Aunt Sue 

Biddeford Winter Farmers Market

It was preceded by quite a bit of local publicity.  All the Southern Maine newspapers covered the story, and the locals were abuzz about the upcoming event.  It would be Biddeford's first farmers' market, and in the middle of February at that.  The donated mill space is part of the old Pepperell building where we used to go to get factory sale blankets with my mom when we were kids.  It's right over the bridge from Main Street in Saco, on the Biddeford side of the river, of course.

 I walked in around 8:10 on Saturday morning to find my ample 10x10 space taped off by Deanna Weaver, the market's organizer and owner of Biddeford's Sweet Specialist.  While D. and many of the rest of the vendors (including me) appeared apprehensive and nervous about how the day would go, we were all relieved by 9:30 when storms of locals appeared at the mill to welcome our presence.  It was a terrific first day.  I sold tons of jam, and I'm pretty sure everyone who had food for sale sold out before we closed up at 1:00.  Hopefully the trend will continue.  More info and feedback in the weeks to come. Thanks, Southern Maine, and hope to see you there next Saturday!    

Cabin Fever Anecdotes

We've been trying to get our cat Woodpile to stay outside more during the day so that he will sleep instead of terrorize us all night with his nocturnal antics.  This has led to some desparation on his part.  Poor cat.  Wants to be in where it's warm now, but he really wants to be out running, falling asleep in the sun, and watching the birds.  I know how he feels.

 

Another cold day, I came out of our bedroom to find this on the middle of our island counter.  Joe had replaced the big fruit bowl with this giant troll, which he brought into the marriage, and which I am removing from the marriage.  It scares the heck out of the kids.  

 

And finally, I cleaned out the refrigerator.  When you make batches and batches of jam, you have little leftover amounts that won't fill up jars, so you put them in jars in the fridge to feed your family and yourself later.  Over time, as I am now aware since cleaning, these amount to literally dozens of partially filled emptied jars.  Who knows what's in half of these?  Now they're empty, and my fridge is emptier too.  Can I call this spring cleaning even though it's only February?