Weather wise, this summer could be called the summer that wasn't. Nationally, this has been the summer that baby boomers have spent navel gazing over their collective memories of Woodstock. It's been the summer that generation xers have spent mooning (or moon walking), over Michael Jackson.
Two years ago I duped it the summer of the barley salad at our house because I spent half the summer trying to perfect that recipe in order to use up all the radishes I was growing just to give my kids something to pick in the garden. The remainder of the summer was spent perfecting tabouli.
Last summer has come to be known, at least in my head, as the summer of the chicken salad.
This summer is definitely the summer of the Boxcar Children mysteries. From what I can see there are 138 Boxcar Mysteries, C has read 89 of them and there's still one more days till school starts. And it's not just me. H, when listening to “Mr. Putter and Tabby Write the Book,” turned to Ken and said that "Mystery of Lighthouse Cove," (the book Mr. Putter was planning to write before he got distracted by food, naps, and baths) "sounds like a Boxcar Mystery."
song: In the Summertime • artist: Mungo Jerry
Wordless Wednesday: Somebody's Garage Door
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