zird is the word (lizardek) wrote,
zird is the word

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The sky is blue with voluminous, roly-poly clouds meandering slowly by. Dandelions stretch up, reaching for their big sister's comfort, their wide, bright eyes glowing. The air is warming, though still cool with a slight breeze. Spirea is flinging out its arms garlanded with white lace. The starry leaves of lupines gather on the plushy hillsides. A chestnut horse with black withers frolics around a pasture, trying to entice an older mare to play. He's kicking up his heels, wheeling back and forth, but she's having none of him. All of the neighbors are out in their yards, mowing, sowing, planting, digging. We bought a new lawnmower yesterday. The second we got home, despite having just mowed the grass the day before, Anders said, "I think the lawn needs mowing, don't you?" I grinned. "Yes, but you are not allowed to sleep with your new toy tonight."

It's Anders' birthday today and his family is coming over for dinner. I've baked a spice cake in a Bundt ring, glazing it with icing and raspberry-flavored sprinkles. He's planning chicken/vegetable and tiger shrimp kebabs for dinner. The grill has been sprayed, in a noxious cloud of stench, with oven-cleaner and left overnight to loosen, the stubborn charred crusts of last year's summer clinging stubbornly to the bars. Young flies divebomb us whenever we're outside; I must get the rest of the screens up on the windows quickly. He was pleased with his presents: a Robert Gustafsson DVD, the best of Peps Persson on CD, 3 ölkorvar,* and money towards his Ducati repairs.

I'm alone in the house for the moment. Anders and Karin are at a motorcycle track event, and Martin was just whirled outside in a cloud of giggling, rollerskating friends. kd lang's Invincible Summer is filling the air from the stereo. Laundry is humming, dishes are washed and put away. The beds are made, the bathrooms are (relatively) clean. Max, the border collie next door, who I can see from the window, is barking and turning in circles just for the joy of it.

Interesting Reading for Design Lovers: The Santa Brand

Lately, it seems all the munchie food in the house has been in a conspiracy to burn the lining off my tongue and palette. First it was Mom with her Red Fire Bar. She brought us a box of Old Bay crab seasoning, which John had introduced us to when we were in Füssen, and Anders liberally sprinkled our Friday popcorn with it. After a couple of handfuls I was forced to surrender. Then it was one of the beer sausages that I managed only 2 bites of. Yesterday, it was pepper potato chips. Can I really be that much of a wimp? It's just as well, since I definitely don't need to be eating any of that stuff anyway.

It's American Mother's Day today, but I don't get anything until the Swedish one rolls around in a couple more weekends. It's too much to expect my family to remember both of them, much as I'd like to get flowers twice. I sent my mom a bouquet of orchids which arrived early this year, the more pleasing since last year's flowers were really late and arrived in a bedraggled state. The photo I saw on the website where I ordered them from was gorgeous...I hope they were as beautiful in real life. Happy Mother's Day to all you moms out there, whether your babies are the 2-legged or 4-legged kind. And to my very own lizardmom, whom I miss very much every day: I love you!

*beer sausages in spicy flavors
Tags: beinglizardek, wonderfulworld


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