of summer and blackberry pie

Today we went blackberry picking. Violet stuffed her little round face till she had the blackberry runs so bad she pooped in the tub tonight…of course, sometimes she does that anyways.  As we were walking back from the park and I was carrying a bowl of blackberries I remembered one summer when I was 14.

After much begging, I had agreed to bake a blackberry pie for the neighborhood boys, which were comprised mainly of my brothers and their friends. They spent the better part of an afternoon picking berries and generally getting  covered in scratches before they had finally picked enough berries for me to make a pie big enough for all of them. It would soon all be worth it though and they congratulated each other while relaxing in the front yard while I carried out my half of the bargain. I had promised them a syrupy, hot, berry pie complete with a golden, flaky crust and wonderful bits of berry oozing out the sides.

That is not what I delivered.

Alas, I grabbed the baking soda instead of the cornstarch. (they were in the same type of container. Instead of turning to blackberry syrup, it immediately became a foul-smelling gruel with a grayish cast.

The End.

that’s right, thats really the end. They were very very very mad at me for quite a long time. Partly also because they had completely picked all the blackberries on the block for the pie, so even if I had wanted to i couldn’t have made it right.

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I have 5 brothers

Say it with me people, Yikes.

The following is a list of injuries they have incurred in the past few years that I know of/remember. This list of course does not include the things they have blown up/wrecked/sunk/etc.

  • broken main wrist bone
  • blown off top of finger with a roman candle
  • black eyes
  • badly cut one finger and nearly lost another with a saw
  • broken collarbones
  • broken nose (i think)
  • debris in eyes
  • head injuries involving the emergency room
  • stitches for cuts
  • multiple injuries of varying degrees requiring emergency care from multiple motorcycle accidents.
  • some minor injuries from car accidents.
  • slamming a head into a dumpster via a longboard and no helmet.
  • (this doesn’t really count, but:) shot someone in the leg.
  • broken foot.
  • multiple fight wounds from multiple fights.
  • burns
  • back problems after  getting sat on by a fat man in a fight.

here’s the worst part: the vast majority of those accidents involved the two oldest boys. Translation: my parents are going to need a frequent flyer discount at the emergency room–it’s only just begun.

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He is Risen Indeed!

Yay for Easter!

Not yay for having two Easter lunches and stuffing my fat face.

Yay for Violet in her cute Easter dress though.

again, not yay for having to go on a dry-bread-and-water fast next week.

One of the fun/not so fun parts of having a small house is periodically getting to play the furniture puzzle game, where everything gets rearranged  and shuffled in yet another attempt to pretend that our house is bigger than it is.

The Memory of the Day I’m Most Likely to Need Therapy For: getting mooned by two of my brothers. Thanks guys, I bet you didn’t know Dad was watching too. Ha! Joke’s on you.

Deep Thought: The more I watch free-will in action, the more I realize how awesome (as in freaking scary) of a gift it is. Sometimes life is like a desperate Shakespearean tragedy, where you understand just how bittersweet everything  is only after you’ve seen the part where you realize that even in the best-case-possible scenario–someone has to pay the price. For those of you just tuning in; we’re not talking about Free Willy.

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