Wisconsin, man. At least all the unrelenting talk about Wisconsin civics motivated me to hack out a pan of bars. That was on Tuesday, when we were young & filled with promise. Well, not all of us. My man on the ground back home assured me long ago the recall rigmarole would be for naught because the Dems had no one who could win against Walker, lo.
This is the last one. As the children are self-powered this afternoon, I plan to eat it with a cup of tea, soon.
They are of raspberry + rhubarb. Just kind of an almond-flour shortbread crust kind of a thing, mostly following an Elana Amsterdam recipe for raspberry bars. I replaced 2/3 of the raspberry fill volume with rhubarb compote. You know, it isn't complicated, go for it. Remember McKinley.
Today is the last day of ballet class, for a few weeks, at least.
In the spring we were at a ballet thing -- not a school thing, like a World of The Patrons of the Arts thing -- & met the artistic director of one of the large, regional companies. He kind of homed in on us & expanded our encounter vis-à-vis the anatomical projection of Fifille. We have learned it is perfectly normal for these people in their crowds to recognize her as one of theirs.
After the placemarking about with whom she studies and what she thought about the [whatever], he told her, in closing, that while he may see her around again as we go on, he will be sure to take notice if they should meet again down the road.
Later, when he was gone, I explained to her that, yk, when someone like that takes an interest in your future, it's flattering, and so in order to keep the flattery wheels turning, you spin the wheel.
"So," I interpolated, "he said, Blahblah future whatever, and then you say, It would be my pleasure, I look forward to it, or something like that. OK?"
She placidly took it all in before scowling a little. "Mommy!" she said, kind of despairingly, "You always know just what to say!"
It was funny; I was a little inadvertently primed for the pronouncement because she was the third or fourth person to express that to me within a few weeks. The people who came before her were articulating sentiment more along the lines of For 20 years you have been relentlessly getting your way, but still. Ok.
That night I said to Fifille, yk, "But I didn't always know just what to say. And you can learn, too. I will help you, if you want."
She came to me today to ask about her year-end letter for Mme Alexandrova, "Can I write that she is my best teacher ever?" No. "Oh, I know. I will say this was my best class!" Ok, good, yes!
And look! She is a natural! (So is her brother, when he is motivated.) I can just spend my time now going to the gym & reading Vogue! Je demeure; je vous adore.


I love to read Tales of Mother/Daughter Workin' It! That is a perfect end-of-year note.
Now I have to shun blogging a little while longer and maybe eat an avocado.
Posted by: Becky | 20 June 2012 at 09:34 AM