Julia's new bike

OK, I have a LOT of blogging to do. I have been trying to remember to take pictures here and there, so the next few posts will be a "blog hotdish."

I'm going to start with two weeks ago when Mike and I picked the cherries from the bushes in our yard and actually made them into a pie. It was grueling...the darn things are about the size of a little bitty marble. Oh well. We were sad watching them get too ripe and fall off the bushes...so we spent five hours picking, pitting, and pie-ing.

Just for the record, and in case I ever read my own blog: SARAH: YOU HATE MAKING PIE CRUST. It is the most abomidable task I can think of. Messy, requries exact measurements, requires lotsa counter space (not little countertops made for an Asian midget like we have), and feeling comfortable about using a recipe that calls for a CUP of crisco. Ew. I pledge to you, my family and friends, that I will always buy extra frozen pie crusts when I"m at cub just in case I get the urge to make a pie at home. !@!!

I was so tired by the time I was making the filling (damn that stupid pie crust) that I accidentally added three tablespoons of baking soda instead of cornstarch to the cherries. It was incredible. Within seconds, the cherries became a molten, fizzing, bubbling, oozing mound. I stared in shock and awe....what the heck? Then I tasted it (because whenever you make some oozing red mound of stuff by accident, the first thing you should do is eat some!). It was very salty. And then I realized what I did. Luckily, the cherries cleaned up nicely with a little bath and we were back to where we started.

Here is psymuhn, with a couple of cherries stuck in his fur. He is trying to tell me, "you idiot. You KNEW they had cherry pies on sale at Super One for only $3.99. Fool."

Here is my replica of the sculpture in the cities in the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden.

I had a weak moment. There was a princess trike on sale at Target and I went for it. Mike frowned. He wanted a red trike for "when" (HA!) we have a boy someday. I guess he has a point: why get more than one trike? Girls can ride on red, boys, too. But before I had a chance to return it, Julia saw the box and started to jump and scream for Joy. You can see the results of our rash, emotional decision. Eldest-daughter bliss. Papa put it together for her right away. What a softie.