I sowed radishes (Champion), lettuce mix (red and green leaf) and snap peas yesterday, finally. I've never been very good at growing anything from seed - I'm more of hit-the-garden-center-for-a-start kind of girl - but, as I've said, hope springs eternal and so we're trying again. The radishes and lettuce, if all goes well, will give way to green beans in a few months. It's the same bed where last year's pumpkin came down with powdery mildew so we're avoiding nightshade and viney things there.

There seems to be trouble in roseville around here. Last year I tore out all the leggy, branchy, spindly, scrawny specimens that dotted our landscape in favor of two supposedly hardy climbers procured from The Antique Rose Emporium, which operates out of Texas. These fine people, and I do recommend them for your rose needs, specialize in old roses, those that don't require the coddling that newer types (that is, the kind that even a small child would recognize as a rose) demand. I have two roses planted adjacent to the shed: an Anemone and a Clotilde Clotilde Soupert, neither of which is doing spectacularly. I don't think it's the roses' fault, though. I'm pretty sure the blame lies squarely with me for sins of misplacement or mishandling (or both). It's true that I don't have ideal rose conditions, even with additives my soil tends toward the clay and because we live in a clearing our sun patterns are challenging. Still, I'm dedicating extra time to the girls this year if for no other reason than I am seduced by the classic country vision of roses rambling up a trellis and over the roof of the shed. I've heard that roses like epsom salts and/or coffee grinds, along with a host of other notions. For the next few weeks I'll research if there's anything all I can do to help them along to what I hope will be a robust, flowering, healthy life.

We are in the midst of one of the most surreal experiences ever visited upon our family - something so peculiar that if I wasn't doing it myself I'd never believe the tale. No, we haven't taken up swinging or some hush-hush new religion. No, even stranger, it's kindergarten admissions. I recently read Nancy Leiberman's Admissions, which concerns and lampoons both the high school and kindergarten admissions processes as they are known in upper-middle to upper-class Manhatten circles. While I enjoyed the book as a fun, easy, silly read (if you need a beach book for spring break, you could do worse) I had no idea that I would actually live out some of what I had assumed where the crazier scenes. One school wants to know how the pregnancy that resulted in my son played out, in shocking (to me) detail. Was he breast fed? For how long? When did he cut his first tooth? What was his first word and when was it uttered?

Another school seems more concerned with his parents' professions, no doubt to ensure that, in addition to tuition, large donations might be forthcoming. Yet a third requires two separate "play observation" sessions, as well as parental interviews and notes on the nature of sibling interaction at our house.

I find myself dressing for school visits as if for a first date and answering the phone using my best "the boss may call any minute" voice. My husband reminds me that we're just as crazy in their eyes as they are to us and my queries ("Do you use phonics or Whole Language? How do you handle conflict between students? What is your stance on fantasy vs. reality play?") are probably just as eye-rolling as the breast-feeding bit. It's probably a good thing to keep in mind.

Anyway, the cookie project is going well and you should watch for an update and some photos within a day or two. I've also picked up the key limes so if you'd like to chuntey along you'll also need some brown sugar, ginger, vinegar, dried raison-like things (that is, raisons, sultanas, dried cranberries or whatever you like), garlic and some hot pepper-type thing (maybe cayenne or pepper flakes or somesuch). If you prefer regular old limes or even lemons that will be fine - your fruit prep method will be a little different, but nothing too onerous. I'll probably get to mine on Friday or Saturday.