Memories of Mintwood
As a child, I was always a fort builder. When I was 12, my sister Kris and I built our most beloved fort, Mintwood Estate, a crooked little house and elaborate garden, under a camphor tree in our backyard. We didn’t know …
Author: Leslie Kimel
The Humble, Helpful Log
Two years ago one of our water oaks died, and two weeks ago it finally fell—deep in the backyard. It is quite enormous, the dead body of the tree. But we didn’t cart it off; we let it lie. Why? Because logs serve important ecological …
In Praise of the Clothesline
I just wanted to take a moment to advocate for a return to the use of the humble clothesline! Hanging out your laundry saves energy and money—and it makes your clothes smell so fresh. Plus, line drying is much gentler on your clothes than heat drying, so your clothes last longer. And—finally—clotheslines just look cool.
Rob and I love our clothesline; Rob calls it our solar-powered clothes dryer.
Cold Weather and Cat Fun
his weekend was another crazy cold weekend–and our heat wasn’t working in the main house, so Rob and the cats and I had to “camp out” in our Little House, the old detached kitchen that we now use as an office. It was kind of cozy hanging out in such a small place with 11 cats.
Tropical Smoothies
Today I made these super-easy tropical smoothies. They were quite festive. I just wish I’d had some little paper umbrellas for garnishes.
St. Augustine: A Few More Tidbits
I want to tell you just a bit more about our last night in St. Augustine, what a jolly madhouse it was in our little beach house.
Bunny and I sat around together trying to remind each other of old Christmas memories, things the other might have forgotten. I love doing this with Bunny because she has a mind like a steel trap; she remembers the tiniest details, whereas I’m kind of dumb and forget everything.
We remembered going to an FSU Physics Department Christmas party (Dad was a physics professor) at the planetarium on campus in 1982. I reminded Bunny that I wore a red plaid jumper that Mom made me, and that the party included a planetarium show. Bunny reminded me about how relaxing the show was; we sat in the dark in plush, reclining chairs, gazing up at the stars.
Bun and I were talking and talking and then we heard the familiar music of the ASPCA commercial and we heard Mom say,” Oh, I can’t watch this. It’s too sad.” And then the next thing we knew, Jake was sobbing and sobbing. “I can’t take it, Mommy,” he said. “It’s too sad!” He sobbed for at least half an hour and worried about the sad dogs in the commercial. “I just can’t take it!” he kept saying. And his little back was shaking, and his little face was all red and wet.
Kris said, “Something you can do is always be nice to your own pets. Be very nice to them. That’s something good you can do to help.”
But the wild sobbing continued for a long time.
I realize I just said our beach house was so jolly and then I ended up talking about how Jake sobbed for half an hour. Well, finally we were able to distract him and turn everything jolly again. (But I will be making a donation to the ASPCA in his name very soon.)
Cute dumb little Sophie went in the kitchen and made herself a little treat. She came out again with a big white ceramic cup with a big plume of whipped cream protruding above the rim; the whipped cream plume was studded all over with mini marshmallows–at least 20.
“Look at the hot chocolate I made,” Sophie said. “Doesn’t it look good?”
“Wow,” her mother said. “That’s a lot of whipped cream.”
“And a lot of marshmallows,” I added.
Sophie giggled. “It goes all the way down to the bottom. The whipped cream. See? There’s not actually any chocolate.”
“Soph!” Mom scolded.
“Wait a minute,” Kris said. “You mean you prepared yourself an entire mug of whipped cream?
Sophie nodded, smiling.
“You are going to make yourself so sick,” Kris warned. “You’re going to hate whipped cream by the time you finish that.”
A little later Sophie was telling us her tummy hurt and she couldn’t finish her cheeseburger.
“Well,” Bunny said, “do you think it might have anything to do with that whipped cream concoction you enjoyed earlier?”
“No,” Sophie said. She was quite serious.
We dug out Sophie and Jake’s new Play Doh Fun Factory and got that going. It had a battery-operated conveyor belt, and soon we were cranking out Play Doh pretzels and Play Doh candies. We also created workers out of Play Doh. Sophie’s character was the boss, and Bunny’s character was a slacker named Pinkie who spent most of his time relaxing in the parking lot.
Sophie played the boss as kind of a hard ass, but then Jake took over the factory and we workers were in for a treat. Pinkie was immediately given a raise, and after an accident on the assembly line (a worker fell onto the conveyor belt and was processed into a pretzel) we were all given promotions.
“Thank you, boss,” my character, Mr. Green, said, “for rewarding us for our carelessness!”
“You helped clean up!” our new boss said cheerfully. “You helped fix it!” Our new boss was so positive.
The boss began inventing new candies (including a tie-dyed jawbreaker) and selling each one for a million dollars. A polka-dotted pretzel sold for $2 million.
“And I will give you half the money!” Jake/the boss said to Mr. Green. “And $500 for a tip!”
“Why, thank you, boss!” Mr. Green said. “You’re the best boss ever!”
Sophie was listening in (she’d quit playing Play Doh to do some beading) and she was getting mad. “The factory is going to go out of business,” she predicted. “Because a new, stupider boss has taken over.”
The boss kept selling candies for millions of dollars and showering the workers with “tips.” We were also given promotions galore and year-long vacations. Our boss was so nice he was clearly insane.
“But boss,” Mr. Green protested when he was given his year-long vacation, “I’ll miss you!”
“I will miss you too,” the boss said. “So how ‘bout you come live with me?”
Oh, our new boss was so sweet.
Another thing I wanted to mention: On Tuesday evening, just before sunset, Jake and Sophie were riding their scooters around in the parking lot in front of the beach house. They were so cute, their cheeks pink from the wind. With their round faces and chubby cheeks, they really do remind me of the Campbell’s Soup Kids. They were going so fast on their scooters and saying, “Watch me! Hey Bunny, hey Leslie, watch this!”
Another tidbit: When we were at the antiques stores on Tuesday afternoon, Matt was teasing Sophie because she kept bumping into him. “Don’t be crowd-y, Sophie,” he said. (I was off in another part of the store while this was going on, looking at some wonderfully tacky rhinestones.)
So when I rejoined the group (Bun, Matt, and Sophie were peering into a case), the first thing Sophie said to me was, “Don’t be crowd-y, Leslie.” She was so cute, dressed in her owl hat and all sassy.
I wanted to say just a little bit more about playing Liv Dolls with Sophie. On Tuesday night Bun and I played with the two sister dolls, Hayden and Jaden. And Sophie played with the doll named Sophie. Once again, my doll, Jaden, was the foil. Right off, she stole Sophie’s wig. This was actually the human Sophie’s idea. “Let’s say she steals my wig,” Sophie whispered. Then she cried in her doll voice, “She stole my wig!”
“Jaden,” Hayden said, confronting the poor, pathetic thief (who could never ever catch a break in our game). “Just be yourself. You don’t need to steal Sophie’s look.”
“Yeah,” Sophie said.
I had Jaden say, “Y’all are just jealous because I have a date to the prom!”
Hayden giggled. “Oh yeah, with Stuey. He asked all of us, you know. But we turned him down.”
“He’s kind of a nerd,” Sophie said.
“We’re not worried about dates,” Hayden added. “We’re going to the prom, sure, but in a big group. You know, just as friends.”
“Well . . . well, maybe I’ll bail on Stuey and go with you!” Jaden said.
“Well,” Hayden sighed. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea. I don’t want him calling the house again, crying.”
Pumpkin Muffins and a Camellia Show
On Saturday I was so happy just because I was free. For one precious day I didn’t have to go to work and I could do whatever I wanted. I added a sweetshrub (Calycanthus floridus) and three Elliott’s blueberries (Vaccinium elliottii) to our big bed around the pond, and Rob limbed up a lot of trees so …
St. Augustine: Day Two
On our second full day in St. Augustine the weather finally started to warm up, and I was so glad. That first night we were there, Sunday night, I had felt so sad when we passed the historic district all lit up with Christmas lights; …
St. Augustine: Day One
The day after Christmas my family (Kris, Phil, Sophie, Jake, Bun, Matt, and Mom) and I took a trip to St. Augustine and stayed in a cute little coral-colored beach house. It was bitter cold when we arrived on Sunday afternoon, and I was worried our whole trip would be ruined by the weather–but it wasn’t. It turned out to be one of my favorite after-Christmas trips ever.
We did a few things on Sunday–like going to the Ripley’s Believe It or Not Museum and playing Cheese Touch (a board game) with Jake–but our first big day was Monday, and that’s where I’ll start my little post. We played in the beach house until about 10 and then we went into town, to the historic district, and poked around the little tourist shops.
Sophie was so cute that day in her new knit hat with the owl eyes. She and I went into Body Candy, a little shop that was selling edible body scrubs and dusting powders. Well, it wasn’t actually a shop; it was more of a booth. But the booth kind of looked like a gingerbread house, with strawberry wafer cookies for shutters, and the nice lady working there gave us free samples.
She was holding a fat, fluffy makeup brush, and she said kindly, “Would you like to try our dusting powder? It’s 100 percent edible and delicious.”
We nodded, and she brushed a bit of powder on the backs of our hands.
Sophie licked her powder off in a sweet, charming, demure sort of way. She licked very politely. Then her eyes lit up. “Mmm, that’s good,” she said.
Sophie never wants to buy anything (she’s a very practical, no-nonsense child), but she wanted to buy the dusting powder, which tasted exactly like powdered sugar.
“Maybe I should get this for my souvenir,” she said. “Mommy said I could get a souvenir.”
“It is delicious,” I said. “And it makes a nice dusting powder too. So it seems a wise investment. I approve.”
But Sophie decided she should think the decision over for a while.
Next the friendly lady gave us a little sample pot of edible body scrub to try. Sophie took a little bite from a tiny pink plastic spoon. I took a bite too. The scrub had a sweet, sugary, buttery flavor.
Sophie is the fussiest eater in the world and pretty much hates all food, but she kept snacking out of her little sample pot of edible body scrub even as we walked on to other shops. Her eyes were so bright; there was a spring in her step. She had finally found a food she liked!
“Isn’t it good?” she said.
“It’s quite nice,” I agreed.
She told me she was now thinking about getting the edible body scrub for her souvenir.
“I probably won’t scrub with it though,” she said, giggling shyly. “I’ll probably just eat it.”
“Well, that’s okay,” I said.
Oh, I just loved it. Sophie had finally found the food for her: edible body scrub!
Another interesting shop we visited was the Theatre Magic Shop, where the clerk suddenly came out from behind the cash register and put on a little magic show for us customers. The show was quite impressive and involved a wallet that burst into flames, a levitating quarter, and a ball that turned into two balls. The clerk was a dapper little man in a black turtleneck and a red satin vest, and Sophie was chosen to be his assistant, a job she took very seriously. Sophie was fascinated by the whole experience and kept talking about it the whole day, speculating about how the tricks were done. She began to dream about going back to the shop and purchasing the levitating quarter kit as her souvenir. I knew it wouldn’t be a waste of money. Sophie is the rare type of smart, determined child who will actually practice a magic trick over and over until she masters it. And in the end, after much debate, she did go back to the shop with her mother and make a purchase.
At about noon we went to the St. Augustine Pirate and Treasure Museum, and a really funny thing happened there. A costumed interpreter, dressed as a pirate, was walking around the museum, answering questions, and Phil stopped him and complimented him on his knee socks. Phil is so shy (he never says anything), so I was really surprised when I heard him talking to the pirate, saying, “Those are some nice socks. They sure look warm. Do you think I might be able to find a pair like that myself?”
“Arrr!” the pirate said. “I got them at the Pirate Shop just around the corner.”
Well, Phil was pumped. He was so excited, he even talked to me about it. (Phil never talks to me.) “I think I’ll head over the Pirate Shop,” he said. “It’s just around the corner. The guy said he got his socks there, and they look pretty good. Nice and warm, 100 percent wool. I think I might pick up a pair.”
And then he was off. He left the museum and went sock shopping. He was kind of a hilarious sight, headed down the sunny sidewalk. Phil hates being cold, so he was dressed for his day of shopping in bright yellow insulated fishing coveralls with a bulky FSU jacket crammed into them. Oh, and he was sporting a tall, colorful fleece hat. We had all chuckled at his outfit earlier that morning.
“Yeah,” Matt had said to him, “but at least you won’t look like a tourist, right?”
Phil spent half the day sock shopping along St. George Street on his own (apparently he had trouble finding that pirate shop), and I kept laughing every time I caught a glimpse of him up ahead in his coveralls. Here’s yet another reason the whole situation was so funny: Phil usually hates to spend money. In fact, he deplores it. But he was going for it on vacation; he was in hot pursuit of those pirate socks.
At the Pirate Museum gift shop, Jake picked out his souvenir–a little stuffed turtle with a striped pirate scarf and an eye patch. Jake named him Turtleson and loved him and felt sorry for him right away. For the next several hours he made his mother talk for Turtleson and answer his kindly questions.
“Turtleson,” Jake said, “have you ever lived in a house before?”
“No,” Kris/Turtleson said. “I never had the opportunity . . . because nobody ever bought me.”
“Why didn’t anybody buy you?” Jake asked sweetly, sympathetically.
“I don’t know,” Turtleson said. “Maybe they didn’t like my scarf. Or maybe it was my eye patch. . . . I’m sorry I have an eye problem, Jake. I hope you’re not disappointed.”
“I’m not disappointed,” Jake told his turtle. ” I think you’re perfect.”
“Thank you, Jake,” Turtleson said.
We had lunch at a little place called Pizzalley’s, and Jake and Turtleson chatted throughout the meal.
While we waited for our food, Jake asked, “Turtleson, have you ever had pizza?”
Turtleson said no in his sad-sack way.
“Well, you can have some today!” Jake cried happily. “It’s good! . . . And have you ever tried water? . . . Why don’t you have some right now?” And he gave the little turtle a sip from his paper cup.
Later I could hear Jake chattering to his turtle as we walked down the freezing, windy little streets. He said, “Turtleson, have you ever been in a bed before?”
And Turtleson said, “No, Jake. Can you tell me about it?”
“It’s soft, Turtleson,” Jake said. “And comfortable. I think you will like it. You can snug there all day, okay? Under the covers.”
“Thanks, Jake,” Turtleson said in his heartrending style. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
That night we played all kinds of games in the beach house, including Cheese Touch and Luck of the Draw. And Bun and I played Liv dolls with Sophie.
The Liv dolls are glamorous teens and Sophie had her doll say the most hilarious teen-ish things, like, “Oh no, you did not just go there.”
My poor doll was the hated one, “the foil,” as Bunny said. Everything she did was uncool according to the other dolls. My doll could not catch a break, and the other dolls always had annoying advice for her. At one point Sophie’s doll said to her, “Maybe if you were nicer, people might open up to you more.”
My doll stole Sophie’s doll’s prom dress and strode into the school cafeteria wearing it. I had her say to herself, “If nobody gives me a compliment on my dress, I am going to storm out of here. I owe that much to myself.”
Oh, the cattiness that followed! Oh, the drama!
It was really fun playing Liv dolls. We were still playing when Sophie’s mother told her she had to go to bed.
“Here,” Sophie said sweetly, reluctantly handing me her doll. “You guys can keep playing.”
I loved that, that she thought two middle-aged women might keep playing dolls together without her. But we did! We actually did. Bunny and I stayed up till midnight styling all the girls’ wigs and dressing them to the nines. And then we posed them in a nice way, not a teasing way. Each doll got to hold something, a little plastic pet rabbit, a little book. . . . One held a kumquat, but it was supposed to be a cantaloupe. This was my idea because we ran out of props.
Bun and I were so proud, but Sophie did not appreciate our work. The next morning she rushed into the living room, spied her dolls, and snatched them up. She threw them in their box in a huff. Then she cried, “I can’t believe you people! Haven’t you learned anything?!” (She was referring to the events of Christmas Day, when Bun, Matt, and I dressed Jake’s Darth Vader clock radio in a Liv Doll wig and Sophie ended up pouting and fake-crying in her closet.)
Sophie threw the kumquat at me.
“But it was supposed to be a cantaloupe!” I protested.
“I don’t like kumquats!” she yelled. “I don’t like cantaloupes!” But she was trying not to smile.
