You might have noticed I’ve been a bit absent around here lately. That’s in large part on account of the fact that my two younger sisters were visiting from Florida for the past week. 
Part of our week’s activities (to be listed below) involved the final photo shoot for the Canning & Preserving book in the Homemade Living series. I took the opportunity to teach Devan and Theo the joys of water bath canning. They rocked it like only the Adams sisters can. 
In honor of the season, and North Carolina’s proximity to, well, South Carolina (well known for its peaches), we made Peach & Lavender butter. The recipe is included in “Canning & Preserving” (get ready to whip up some jars yourself next Summer, as by then, you’ll hopefully have your hands on my book, slated for release April 2010).  Here the girls are using an immersion blender to render the cooked chunks of peaches into a smooth, buttery sauce. 
Theo deftly removes any trapped air bubbles in the jars with the aid of a wooden chopstick. 
Devan secured the lids and screw bands, while Theo moved on to expert (and repeated) bowl licking. 

I can’t imagine a more perfect Pop. Seen here circa 1978, probably in Virginia Beach, VA. Full disclosure: I was workin’ an itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini that day. Thanks Mom! 
Here’s my pop with his siblings, rockin’ some serious hair (he’s on the far right, back row). 

I had the exquisite pleasure this past weekend of working on and attending a gorgeous wedding in southwestern Virginia. Here’s the view from behind the wedding tent. 
My extraordinarily talented pals Jessica and Meredith of Aria Floral tricked out the site like only they can. When they asked me to accompany them for the weekend and work on this treasure of a wedding, I jumped at the opportunity. While these candid camera shots I took give you no real sense of the grandiose scale of things, they do give you a sense of place. I was too busy working to grab any shots of all we did before the wedding began. The farmhouse above was restored for the wedding and will in the future serve as a parallel Inn to the restaurant. 
Turns out, the parents of the groom, Tom and Kyra Bishop, own Townhouse, a restaurant in Chilhowie, Virginia, gaining accolades by the day. In fact, they were profiled just yesterday in the New York Times. Seriously folks, you might think I’m crazy since wedding food isn’t usually known to qualify for “best meal ever,” but in the case of this wedding, I can tell you without question that the food prepared by chefs Karen Urie and John Shields was the best food I have ever had. Ever. Ever ever ever. And I honeymooned in Paris, Monaco, and Rome, so that’s sayin’ something. Chef Urie even made nougat dipped in chocolate, which is my mostest most favorite confection of all time. And mini macarons. And apricot pates des fruits. And truffles infused with raspberry……….
After leaving their posts at esteemed restaurants Trotter’s and Alinea respectively, the two chefs were wooed to the middle of nowhere and given complete creative and culinary license. The food was so delicious and innovative, in fact, that Glenn and I hopping in the car this very evening for the two hour drive back to Chilhowie. Townhouse sponsors periodic benefit dinners and tonight’s topic is on the plight of the honeybee. Since the theme dovetails perfectly with my next book topic, and my taste buds are crying out for more Urie and Shields, and Glenn didn’t get to partake in the feasting this past weekend, away we go! In depth details forthcoming…..

Dear friends, we’ve made it through one year together. Small Measure is officially one year old today. Thanks for allowing me to rant about leaky roofs, perfect chocolate chip cookies, naughty dog antics, and assorted and sundry flash mob videos. I’ve adored making digital friends and can’t wait to meet more of you and learn of your own life adventures in the year ahead. In celebration, I offer you the O.G. of party times, M.C. Hammer. Were he to be made aware of this here lil’ blog ‘o mine, he’d unquestionably break into spontaneous dance. Stop. Hammer time. 
*I want things like this to happen to me when I’m shopping. Or pumping gas. Or getting groceries. Or anything. Life is always better with spontaneous dancing, right?

Dexter is learning how to play fetch. At present, he’s pretty terrible at it. He gets the whole chase-the-ball aspect; where he fails miserably is in the return. He gets all caught up in the ball’s inherent roundness and keeps rolling it back down the knoll on which our house is situated. His repeated runs up and down said knoll, coupled with the heat of N.C. in June, turns him into one tuckered out pooch. His supine stance, squinty eyes, and bared incisors pretty much tell the entire story. Here he can be witnessed in his native environment, on what I’ve dubbed “the Piggy throne.”