Chicken tracks in the snow. Happy making.
Oh people. What can I say? This may be the sweetest time of my life, and as much as we are dying to meet the little guy floating in my belly, I wouldn't mind if these days passed a little less quickly. We are busy. We are digging in here in Asheville in new ways, getting out more, reaching out more, doing more laughing with new faces. I am loving my job, and I think my job loves me. Loving our house in new ways, as B sands and patches and insulates and paints rooms into completely new spaces. Loving each other in new ways, for real. You shoulda seen B's face the first time this guy kicked hard enough for him to feel it. Electrified, somewhere between disbelief and joy. B's in utero nickname was Thumper, and I believe we have identified our first paternally inherited trait - this little man is busy in there.
We started our early seeds indoors this weekend (brassicas, lettuces, etc.), which we usually direct sow in early to mid March. With most of our winter garden kaput, we're eager for home greens and this will give us quite a jump. Plus if the wet keeps up, we're in for some prime seed rotting conditions. This set of seedlings will head outside for hardening just in time to make way for all the real summer starts, eggplant and hot peppers and whatnot. Lots of growing around here, including the houseplants and their annual show. Here's the orchid:
The house has been full of chocolate. B's dad and B's Gale sent us a killer box of goodies, and then when we were finally removing our Christmas tree this weekend (sniff), we discovered another box of chocolate wedged into the front door, from B's Grandpa. It had been there for almost two months! Perfectly frozen the whole time though, which is to say: still freakin' yummy. I am not an exceptionally disciplined pregnant lady. No coffee, no booze, no raw fish, whatever, but I have still eaten my chocolate when the occasion presents itself. Even so: the quantities on hand were jamming my circuits, so I made something non chocolate, which is to say, some shortbread. With some raspberry sauce. I used this recipe, and I love the oaty goodness. I think it could be a little less sweet though, and I will give this another shot soon because my mum loves shortbread and needs to weigh in on this.
What, you think my raspberry sauce dollop looks like a sperm? Yah. Me too. A baker's dream of fertilization: sperm and something pie shaped.
Ok, I better get done with this now. Be well out there.