Letting some of it trickle out while trying to soak it all in

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Pomegranate, Popcorn, Pomegranate, repeat. . .

"There's a blizzard outside!" I burst through the door covered in corn snow.
"Like a frog"? Ingrid looked concerned.
"Oh! Not a lizard Ingrid, a blizzard. The snow is blowing around all over Fairbanks." It had been -10F on Wednesday but had warmed up to 20 above with the low pressure.

After brushing off we had a standing dinner of tiny pieces. We started with a course of pomegranate. It was Ingrid's first.
"What is that? I don't want that."
"OK, I'll have it."
"I want that." She's not very hard to convince. "It tastes like candy." I love how pomegranate is a food and also an activity. It's like someone crossed a tangerine with a Rubik's cube.

To balance out the sweet Rachel baked up a bag of buttered popcorn (an old family recipe, butter and popcorn). Here's what was left after three minutes:
We finished with a second course of pomegranate and got ready for bed. The bottom half of Ingrid's clothes came off in one heap. She said it looked like a little person named Jailey.


Ingrid put a crown on my head and then tried to get it off. Each time she would reach up I would nuzzle her chin and she'd fall to the floor laughing. Wouldn't it be great if we replaced all the tasers with ticklers. It would be a more effective defense tactic, tickling is much more debilitating anyway.
Every night we go through the same bedtime routine. Ingrid reads us a story then Rachel reads Ingrid the same story. We pray--always holding hands at Ingrid's insistance, then Rachel carries Ingrid into her room and I chase them both like a tiger. Rachel then "talks about the day" in the big comfy chair (Rachel says she hates that but I love to listen to them). Finally Ingrid goes to bed. So it was last night in our little Alaskan home.

2 comments:

  1. great story.

    snow storm here yesterday too.

    been reading a series of mysteries by a dutch writer, van de Wetering. the commissar and the detective end up in Maine and watch american law enforcers at work. why do you use guns, one of them asks the american. because the criminals resist arrest, is the answer. don't they do that in holland? not if we're kind to them, is the answer.

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  2. What a touching vignette. It sounds like you have a very warm little Alaskan home.

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