Whoops.

Recently I was told I've been a tad absent. Sincere apologies here--there have actually been several consecutive days when I've been unable to find the time to check mail, much less collect my scatterbrained thoughts into a comprehensible sentence! With a ninety-three year old living in my first floor guest room and three boys under 12 home for the summer--my life is now consumed by scraped knees, fruit loop wars, skate board ramps, "eggs & bacon" at the pool (have you heard of this??), and lost false teeth.

In the midst of the mayhem, lessons have been learned this steamy summer....oh please do sit back and listen, wisdom of the ages here.....

Episode one: Decorating Sense.

When mixing ALL of your friends from many different walks of life, backgrounds, and places together for your Party-Lite bash; it may not be a good idea to get creative with your centerpiece. For while you may indeed think that the little green bottles, lined up on the silver tray, with a single daisy in each, surrounded by a handful of glittering seaglass and shells looks just divine on the dining room table.....it only takes one pal from your college days to comment, "Say, aren't those Jagermeister minis?!" to swing your soiree from "elegant afternoon tea" to Friday night bar hop. Tequila anyone?

Episode two: Use a Hammer, dammit.

It was a scorching hot day last June. We were moving and my darling parents had come to help us. Now, while I'm simply amazed by this generosity--this amazement faded a bit as we dismantled our king size bed. Nearly done, I left to root out a hammer to separate the frame. From the kitchen I hear crazy crashing noises--what in the name of Hosophat's hangers?? Returning to the bedroom, I discover my father--my 10 lb solid chunk-o-steel weight in hand--beating the crap out of my bedframe. "Heh, heh--didn't need that hammer after all!" he proudly says as the now slightly twisted and mangled bits of metal fall apart. "Ummm....thanks pop."

Fast forward. This weekend.....3 lovely long days with the kids gone to my ex's for the holiday and some privacy! Hubba hubba darlings. We made one run to the grocery for ice-cream, to the butcher for steaks to grill, and to the beverage store for the makings of a killer pitcher of long islands! A delicious delving into the sensual and forbidden fruits....

It's 3:30 in the afternoon and after a smashing lunch and leisurely shower...we retire for a little afternoon delight. (wink, wink) A half hour later, our fabulously crooked bedframe is being put to the test....ka-thunk, ka-thunk, ka-THUNK.....and drifting up from downstairs is the voice of my grandmother, "WHO IS IT?!?!"

Thanks dad.

Episode three--Storage.

First mistake: We were throwing a party with about a 75-80 person guest list--kids included. (no, I don't smoke crack-why do you ask?) and I was racing about stashing stuff. (this is my idea of cleaning when pressed for time) And there is that....well, tub-o-adult-fun that needs to be...changed. It's a clear tub....and...well, you know. So I'm searching for something you can't see through and come across an extra lego tub--you know, the one that looks like a giant blue lego? PERFECT! (I know, I know....) And yes--several hours later I discovered my youngest son--thoroughly confused because, "these aren't legos mom..."

Second mistake: Do I go out and shop to buy a discreet container to....NO! What, you think I'm made of money?? Of COURSE I just grab an extra holiday tub from the seasonal decorations.

It was marked "Summer."

Episode four: Parrot Head.

I'd had enough squabbling over the party parrot for the day so I stuck him on top of the toaster oven in the kitchen. Unbeknownst to me, the little switch was still on. (you say something and in his endearing shriekish parrot voice, he screams it back to you twice) So the phone rings, I'm up to my elbows in roasted chicken and garlic with "mo-ooom, I'm hungry!" whining from the living room and the last thing I need is the fleebity bleep phone. "Mommy needs a drink!" I hiss in exasperation as I pick up the cordless....."Hello?"

And as the pastor's wife sweetly asks how I am, Party Pete squawks across the kitchen, "Mommy needs a drink! Mommy needs a drink!"

.

Oh my....summer has just begun. Did I mention we're going camping for a week??

Bread......and friendship.

I nearly had a heart attack reading an ice-cream label today...it had 27 ingredients. Twenty-seven.

I have few addictions. Good martinis, butter...lobster. (hmmm...some of those certainly go together) The smell of paint and sunshine...herbs. I subscribe to a single magazine--Saveur. Honestly, I can immerse myself for hours in pages of wild chanterelles, lemongrass, and olives; luscious ideas of tantalizing taste and scrumptious possibility. Last month they had 14 recipes for bloody marys...and chocolate gravy. Yet there seems to be a single remarkable theme...real food. Untainted.

We pay a dollar more for the mac and cheese that doesn't have "yellow #12" in it; even more for free range chickens fed on grains and worms and grass. We buy jars of peanut butter that only last a month and I am obsessed with my butcher who actually cuts my steaks in front of me--two inches thick and marbled enough to make me bite my lower lip and inhale softly in anticipation of the tender feast that awaits.

The age of MSG. It put american-chinese food on the map....and is now the number one anti-advertisement: "delicious with no msg!" Tv dinners, microwave magic, cereal that "has a full day's vitamins in one bowl." (shudder) As our technology surged, we reveled in our modern intelligence, our clever short-cuts to facilitate a new world with a new definition of family. No longer was it even feasible to awake with the dawn and mix and knead the yeast into loaves that needed 6 hours on the back of a warm oven to rise and then bake. Instant was good...filling was better. We applauded, we rationalized. And then....

There was this slow....missing.

Like a summer's night without fire flies. Autumn without leaves...Christmas without stockings. Blame it on doubts...on science, disease scares...on texture. We found ourselves with plastic trays and mushy pasta, mediocrity leaving us hungry ten minutes after the meal for lack of sustenance. The epic death of taste buds.

Revolution.

Why does it seem...as we now submerge ourselves in a sea of organic and natural and pure...that we have somehow escalated the fraudulent lives we lead? We rave over unpasteurized goat cheese and fire roasted lamb with figs while we permeate our relationships with additives, enhancements...garnishes. Our media, our politicians...our families. I have found myself smiling at a party even as I swallowed garish sallow compliments. I've entertained complete frauds. I've been guilty of accepting the synthetic. I've even dished it out...with cilantro.

It seems that the real...the pure relationships are...sparse. Is it just that I'm older? More discriminating? Less patient?

As I muddled garam masala and fresh garlic in a mortar and pestle this afternoon, preparing to sear and roast--I found myself contemplating my recent dissatisfaction in my personal relationships. I have rushed. I have microwaved entirely too often. I have settled for instant.

Friendship....real and true and honest friendship...needs yeast, not baking soda.