Of Sharks and Otters

No, this isn't some gruesome National Geographic-inspired post but a rundown of our first swim lesson today.

The kids were actually pretty excited, considering they probably haven't gone swimming in a real pool since hanging out at Aunt Banana and Uncle Soccer's community pool with Gommie and Pop last summer. Even when they're in the bathtub, they never willingly get their faces wet and freak when they get their heads wet (which means shampoo night, which is few and far between, always involves a bribe of Mama washing her hair with their help first).

But they were thrilled with new swimsuits--pink and white striped one piece with a little skirt for her, blue shark trunks for him--and new swim shoes (purple and blue, respectively; pink was sold out in her size). And they each selected a town, coincidentally the same blue beach-going huge fuzzy penguin towel.

So, we got ready: final trips to the potty, swimming suits, sunscreen application, cover shirts, towels, swim shoes, my bag with a bottle of water, more sunscreen, a check to pay for the lessons, and my camera to record the momentous event. And wouldn't you know it, when we arrived at the lessons, out came their preschool teacher whom we saw at strawberry picking last week. They were surprised and happy to see her, I think relieved that she goes there with her granddaughters. It suddenly made everything okay, especially because I'd already told them their swim teacher was a good friend of their preschool teacher. And look, proof!

And they did great. They liked meeting their teacher, whose haircut is like Gommie's, which made her even more acceptable, in addtion to being a friend of their teacher. So, they got in the pool on the steps (it was a big, heated--yes, it's still a bit chilly to swim in CT--in-ground pool), let her carry them out into the water, kicked, and paddled. Bud was only a little concerned about his staple, which I had called to inform her of, but there was no dunking or getting heads wet.

Instead, they both talked a mile a minute, about school, home, the turkeys that wandered into her yard during the lesson, the dragonfly buzzing around, how funny it felt to have wet shoes, how weird it was that their legs floated, how heavy their suits felt wet. When they swam on their stomachs, they said they were sharks; on their backs, they were otters. They told her how they had imagined her pool could be filled with different things and how they would drink it all up (I had told them not to drink the water. Or pee. Or run around. Or push anyone. Or ever ever ever go near a pool if an adult was not right there saying it was okay): Bud had wanted strawberry milk or lemonade, while Sis opted for chocolate milk, mentioning apple juice as a last resort. They said mine could be tea. Then, Bud kept telling her that he "already knew how to sink." Sis was more concerned about the bugs in the water and kept calling the teacher over to flick them out. They each eagerly awaited their turns and did everything she asked.

Almost. When the teacher asked Sis if she would put her mouth in the water and blow some bubbles, Sis just said, "No." Bud, of course, followed suit. But they both blew across the top of the water happily. I'm just glad they got in and paddled around. Faces and heads can come later. It really was a wonderful first try.

Reading Rituals

Like many bedtime rituals, our includes storytime. Each child gets two stories, their pick. They usually repeat the same couple for a few nights and then switch. Right now, Bud is hooked on Drummer Hoff and whatever else. Sis chose two "new" ones tonight, i.e. ones we haven't read in a few weeks, including Bedtime for Frances and Tell Me Something Happy Before I Go to Sleep, a perennial household favorite.

And it occurred to me while reading Frances, as it has occurred to me while reading several other books: is it sacrilege to alter the gender of the parents of the character if that is unimportant to the main gist of the story? In this one, Frances keeps coming up with new ruses to avoid going to sleep, with her Mother and Father Badger frustrating all her attempts. But they're animals, not even in clothes, and Sis would never know they weren't a Mommy and Mama Badger, at least until she can read. There are so few good books for preschoolers with two mommy characters (esp ones that don't whack you over the head with it and Heather Has Two Mommies is too old for us yet) and there are great books with fathers; besides, if you only read books without dads, you would a). run out of stories pretty quickly and b). miss some greats of children's literature. But, in most cases, it's not the gender of the parent that makes the book great (especially because animals are relatively androgynous). What generally keeps me from just changing the pronouns and names? Honesty? Fidelity to the written word? Inattentiveness? Acceptance of the reality that most families and most of popular culture includes a mother and a father? Hey, you dads out there, do you read books about mommies and change the gender? Especially if there isn't a mommy in the family?

What would you do?

On Marriage Today

Read the article, "Marriage Stands Up for Itself," with some interesting observations on fidelity, infidelity, divorce, and marriage over the last few decades and also in light of several recent high-profile affairs. It's not what you might think.

Beverages for When You Can't Eat

For Miss T, who is having two root canals tomorrow--

Orange Creamsicle Smoothie

I love orange creamsicle! I made an easy version for Mama and Goo—orange soda frozen in a slushie cup and then poured over vanilla ice cream.

2 frozen orange juice bars

½ cups cold milk

1 cup vanilla ice cream or frozen yogurt

¾ cup cold orange juice

Blend the juice bars, milk, ice cream and orange juice in a blender. Can substitute frozen orange juice for orange juice bars.

Alternate: Orange Freeze

From Eddie’s Sweet Shop in Woodhaven, where they filmed part of Brighton Beach Memoirs. Very tasty! And easier than the creamsicle smoothie.

2 scoops orange sherbet

1 scoop vanilla ice cream

seltzer

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Tropical Slushie

This is a recipe from Scholastic's Parent and Child magazine that the kiddos can actually have. And it's pretty good (6/07).


1 cup mango nectar
20 oz Canned Pineapple Chunks in Juice

Freeze pineapple chunks overnight. Defrost 10 minutes before blending with mango nectar. Serve.

Parent and Child Magazine (2 points; 3 servings)

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Mango Lassi

The weekend after Mom’s spring visit, during which we had lassis at an Indian restaurant, we got fresh mangoes form the Costco and made these, which Martha had just featured in Everyday Food. Pretty tasty, and sweet enough with no additional sugar (summer 2004).

1 ripe mango

1 cup whole or lowfat plain yogurt

3 tablespoons sugar

½ cup cold water

ice

Peel, pit, and coarsely chop 1 ripe mango (to yield about 1 cup fruit). In a blender, purée mango with yogurt, sugar, and cold water until smooth. Pour through a fine mesh sieve to remove pulp, if desired. Serve immediately over ice.

Everyday Food

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Goo’s Redwall Strawberry Cordial

Mama, Goo, and I made this delicious cordial one May night, inspired by the Redwall books and a website full of Redwallian recipes. It was amazing! It reminds me of those wonderful strawberry drinks of Chock-Full-O’Nuts.

2 lbs. strawberries

1 cup granulated sugar

½ cup powdered sugar

¾ liter of plain seltzer

2 tablespoons water

1 pint heavy cream

Wash and slice strawberries. Heat strawberries on low flame in saucepan with ½ cup sugar and 2 tablespoons of water. When soft and rendering liquid, add the other ½ cup of sugar.

Strain strawberries over bowl, saving juice. Crush strawberries until only seeds and fibers left. Add to juice.

Cool juice. Add seltzer to strawberry juice to taste. Add cream to cordial to taste and texture. Sweeten with powdered sugar.

Refrigerate at least an hour or until chilled.

Serve with fresh whipped cream.

Mama, Goo, and me

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New York Chocolate Egg Cream

I became addicted to this in NYC and needed to be able to make my own when I moved to Chicago.

1 cup milk

¼ cup seltzer

2 tablespoons chocolate syrup

Squeeze syrup into glass, then add milk. Stir in seltzer.

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Miss V’s Homemade Chai

darjeeling tea

green cardamom pods

sugar

milk

Place tea and crushed green cardamom pods in water and boil gently on the stove. When well heated, add sugar and milk to taste. Serve.

Miss V

Hallelujah!

The babysitter called this afternoon and is coming back to work this week instead of next. YAY!!!!!! And for three afternoons instead of two. I am a completely spoiled and indulged woman. And completely grateful.

As I was talking to her on the phone, as they realized who it was and what we were discussing, the kids began to beg for her to come today and celebrated when they learned she was coming tomorrow.

All I can say is "YAY!"

Ditto

I'm repeating, verbatim, what Momma Zen says today on her excellent blog, Cheerio Road:

Attention is the most concrete expression of love. What you pay attention to thrives. What you do not pay attention to withers and dies.

Quite simply, it bears repeating.

Pass it on.

Happy for Solstice!

I know, I'm pretty late with happy Solstice wishes. But today was a glorious summer day.

And so, not liking heat one bit, I am gladdened to know that the days are actually getting shorter from now on, even if the heat gets higher, because that means fall and winter are coming, eventually.

Just not fast enough for me!

A Karat of Carrots

We went to the farmer's market today and had a delightful time wandering among the vendors. Even though we have more than enough vegetables from our CSA box, I told the kids they could each choose something. No surprise that Bud chose strawberries, even though we just got 13 lbs last week, and Sis, our bunny-lover, chose these little carrots with grassy tops as long as she is. I picked up some zucchini and yellow squash (to saute for a pasta topping tonight), plus some Japanese Ginger salad dressing and some new soap. We also each got a cookie, predictably chocolate chip (Sis) and M&M (Bud), plus a delicious maple walnut for me. We touched a truck, met a giant tooth, checked out a book from the library table calledThe Garden-Fresh Vegetable Cookbook, and had fun visiting with playgroup buddies and church friends. I was almost tempted to buy a few more herbs because we put in a new vegetable bed--right around our mailbox in the front yard because it gets the most sun in the whole yard and our squash were starting to languish on the same spot in a pot--and even looked for a sunflower to replace the ones the mowers weedwhacked (because everytime Bud or Sis had looked over at their vacant spot, they said it made them sad), but decided not to buy any new herbs (we get new ones each week from our CSA) and couldn't find a sunflower.

When we got home, Bud went after his strawberries right away, small, bright red, sweet berries. It just doesn't matter that he ate a ton last week. Sis, too, was very interested in her little carrots: she cut the tops off, rinsed them in water, scrubbed them with my vegetable brush, and then watched while I peeled one. She had two and shared one with me. They were amazing! Truth be told, I'm not sure I've ever had a carrot right off the farm like that. So much better than any grocery store carrot, even the organic ones, that I've eaten. But I shouldn't be surprised. It's good to eat right out of the ground. And I'm glad my kids like it, too.

And so I'm glad we had a successful trip to the farmer's market, which I hope we remember to visit regularly, even with our steady supply of CSA veggies. Here are some tips for visiting the farmer's market, some I remembered and some I forgot:

• Bring your own reusable bag or two for carrying all your goodies and helping out the earth (whoops, forgot)
• Bring small bills and a check as back up to make paying easier for you and the vendor (though, one vendor, when given the choice, preferred breaking a large bill to taking a check, so this tip is iffy.)
• Bring water to drink (we drank a full 20 oz of water between the 3 of us in under an hour)
• Don't forget the sunscreen if your market is in the afternoon or in a unshady spot--it's hot and bright out there (note: last year's sunscreen that has been in the car all year is not good anymore)
• Asks questions of the growers (I learned that "local" honey, often used to treat allergies, is relative, as beekeepers keep hives in several places--apparently, as long as it's within about 100 miles or so, it counts).
• Try something new (mmm, that maple walnut cookie. And of course, that carrot!)
• Have fun! (even if there isn't a truck to touch or a giant tooth every week)

Good Luck Tomorrow

To Miss T, who will be undergoing not one but two root canals.

We'll be thinking of you.

Tidbits

"Is it a two-winner game?" Bud asks Sis before they start the foot race.

"Yep," she replies.

This has been going on for a few months. They only like to play games with each other that they both win, hence two winners, even if the second winner comes in way behind the first.

Which is why they really don't like Tic Tac Toe, which I had taught them one day at a restaurant to pass time. No way to make there be two winners in that game.

-=-=-=-

Sis spreads her hands wide apart. "I'm going to play with it this long."

Bud groans.

As they negotiate sharing and taking turns recently, they've been measuring time with their hands. It's much more concrete to understand than "5 minutes," which I still don't think they grasp. Even if they don't always like how far apart the hands are.

-=-=-=-=-

The kids have signed their own names now, but the first time was on the computer, not on a sheet of paper. Both can write their first initials just fine, but haven't been that interested in moving along and I don't care or push it. But the other day, we were typing email to Mama, and Sis wanted to type her own name, all-caps, and she did. Then Bud did in his email to Mama. Okay, it's not traditional, but it was a milestone nonetheless.

Scotland or Bust

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled--

Scots, wham Bruce has aften led--

Welcome to your gory bed.

Or to victorie!

Robert Burns, "Bannockburn"

Can't you just hear the bagpipes? Actually, I think I still can, after we spent all day at the Scottish Games yesterday. But I love bagpipe music and thus enjoyed seeing all the competing pipe bands from all over the Northeast, as well as several other contests, clan groups, food stands, and vendors.

Held at a huge-estate-turned-public-park, complete with mansion on the grounds, the festival reminded me of when lords in Britain invited the local populace to hold feasts and festivals in their private parks--in fact, if I understand the history of recent Scottish nationalism correctly, that's pretty much how Highland Games got started in theUK and then the US.

Anyway, it was a lovely day, first real day of summer I recall our having since summer started. We actually started at the food booths, having an early snack of spiraled sweet potato "crisps." And since food is a good way to meet a culture, we kept going. Eventually, we had fish and chips (with malt vinegar for both), a scotch egg (that's a hardboiled egg with sausage that has been breaded and deep fried. And yes, I, the resident vegetarian, had a laspse and ate half. No regrets, it was divine!), a beef pastie with HP sauce (mmmm, that's also good on fries), and something called a "haggis puff," which wasn't quite but Mama still enjoyed it. Along with it, we drank a citrus soda called Irn Bru, which reminded Mama of Thai sodas (but didn't remind me of any American ones). Finally, shortbread, of which Sis ate two whole yummy, crunchy triangles, and this delightful treat called an Empire Biscuit, which Buddy ate in its entirety so we had to go buy another so I could try some--it's basically two shortbread rounds with a layer of strawberry jam between and powdered sugar icing and maraschino cherry on top.

But we didn't just eat. We wandered the "clan village," stamping the kids' festival passports with the coat of arms of the attending clans. My aunt has traced our family heritage to Clan Hay recently (a little bit of geneology, a litte bit of guesswork, a little bit of folklore, I think) so we had fun looking for the clan tartan, motto, badge, and territory, though they didn't have an actual booth (I think it might be a small group). It was fun to feel a part of it (because, all the guesswork in the world doesn't make the family anywhere near Greek for that festival!), to tell the kids about their European (as opposed to Chinese) roots. Interestingly, as much as I understood that I had German, French, and British (English/Scottish/Welsh, I believe, again from said beloved aunt) ancestry, I didn't grow up really identifiying with those cultures (even though Mom is always talking about her German blood and behaviors)--I thought of myself as a Texan above all that (which should make Texas-proud Mom, part-German though she is, thrilled). Well, there aren't any Texas festivals up here, not even much good BBQ, but we do what we can. Besides, being an anglophile and Victorianist, I like to think of my British roots.

When asked later in the day, Bud said he liked the dancing best, the fancy footwork of the Highland dance competitions more than the square dance-like country dance demonstrations. Huh? With all those snare drums and bagpipes around? Oh, yeah, he said. He forgot. Those too! How could he forget? At any one time there were 3-4 different groups and individuals playing simultaneously (oddly, it all harmonized--I don't understand the music of it, but do all bagpipes only play in one key? Is all the music in the same time stamp? How was it not a cacophany?). Mama and I were still hearing it at bedtime last night, so imprinted in our minds was that sound. Bud also liked the performances of a Scottish rock band, with bagpipes, drums, keyboard, bohran, guitar, and bass combining traditional tunes with more modern arrangements. He bought their CD and even helped copy it onto our iPod last night.

Sis liked taking pictures of the bands on the field, proud to be able to hold and use Mama's real camera for the first time. She's just like her Mama--infinitely patient about taking pictures while also taking several to get just the right one. So cute to see mini-Mama in action. She also liked shopping in the vendor booths, spotting and selecting the Royal Standard of the King of Scots, or Lion Rampant, with the red lion on yellow background, as her special souvenir. She then marched around the festival waving her flag; Bud got one too and joined her parade. (Not to be outdone, I got a cookbook and another ceramic shortbread pan, this one with Celtic knots, while Mama got a hat to wear on her trip to Thailand in two weeks. Oh, and I got Mama a Dundee cake, very similar to a fruit cake, for her birthday. The vendor called it "a proper cake.").

The kids waved their flags while we watched the caber toss, where grown men (I don't know if women were competing, but imagine they do) throw several hundred pound long logs. There was, as you can imagine, lots of grunting, just like there had been at the stone throw contest. Bud didn't understand the grunting--he thought they were scary--which I understand: men throwing trees around are a little intimidating!

That pretty much ended our day and to the continued sound of bagpipes and drums, we marched out of the festival, proudly waving our Scottish banners.

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Vel’s Christmas Shortbread

I don’t know who “Vel” is but I like her recipe for shortbread that I found on allrecipes.com. It has a homey flavor because of the brown sugar. It’s one of my favorites. I usually half the recipe.

2 cups butter

1 cup brown sugar

5 cups sifted flour

Preheat the oven to 350°F. In a large bowl, cream butter and brown sugar until smooth. Stir in flour and knead by hand until dough comes together. At first the dough will seem dry and crumbly but don’t give up, keep mixing. Roll out the dough to ¼” thickness and cut with cookie cutters or press dough into shortbread molds (be sure to lightly grease mold and sprinkle with sugar). Place cookies 2” apart onto ungreased cookie sheets.

Bake for 8-12 minutes in the preheated oven, depending on the size of your cookies. Do not let them brown. Remove from cookie sheets to cool on wire racks. (Note: If you use a ceramic pan, turn the oven down to 325F and bake for 30 minutes).

allrecipes.com

Oh, Happy Days!

Not the song nor the book (you know, with the animals who find the first spring flower in the snow).

But the blog, which I'm adding to my roll.

Focused on

the search for contentment in its many forms — economic, emotional, physical, spiritual — and the stories of those striving to come to terms with the lives they lead

during this economic downturn, the blog has a variety of contributors including poets, physicists, psychologists, and such, who write on a variety of intriguing issues.

I just finished reading one on anger and the heart, which reminds me of my Friendly's fiasco and gives me just one more reason to keep my (though relatively rare) frustration in check. Some other recent posts worth reading:

• On the limits of control, including the author's mother's childhood in a Nazi concentration camp
• On knowledge and nerves, and why you're more nervous about what you don't know
• Simplifying life, which I blogged about here

Adventures in Cooking Our CSA Share: A Couple of Newbies

Swiss chard and dandelion greens are in our box this week, along with cabbage, kohlrabi, kale, turnips, and radishes. So that gives us two new ingredients to play with this week. I feel like I'm learning so much--I couldn't identiify the dandelion greens at all and had to refer back to my box list before figuring out what they were. The chard was easier to identify because of the distinctive coloring. And of course, kohlrabi and kale, turnips and radishes, which were novel a few weeks ago are now almost household standards. Which is exactly why we're doing this CSA in the first place.

Partying with a Penguin Pinata

Mama arrived home right ahead of the storm, in time to get down the canopy off the deck and get inside without getting wet.

And there, inside, we surprised her with her birthday party! Sis had carefully wrapped several different bags of candy from Ye Ole Pepper Companie, the oldest candymaker in the U.S.--we got her sassafras, ginger, and horehound drops, plus lemon and peppermint Gibraltars, and some Black Jack molasses sticks. Sis also stuffed colored tissue paper in the mugs she and Bud had decorated with special marker for Mama's desk, as well as wrapped the pocket watch and knot-tying kit I had found for her. Additionally, they had wrapped the entire center of our house with pink and blue streamers, one of their favorite decorating techniques, made but not frosted chocolate cupcakes (regular and mini), gathered the ingredients for punch, and stuffed the penguin pinata with a variety of Tootsie Roll products.

Mama was very surprised and then pleased by the excitement. Bud and Sis were so exuberant in encouraging her to open her presents that I think they unwrapped most of the for her and then waved them in her face. But despite all the delight, Mama and I were extremely distracted by the darkening skies and weather warnings, which eventually included a tornado warning.

But this time we could go to the basement, and not in a frightened hurry like last time. We just decided to do the penguin pinata in our basement! Brilliant. As the kids and I finished stuffing it with candy downstairs, Mama gathered the flashlight, water, phone, computer, and cats, and then just closed us in. But with the lights shining brightly and the thrill of a pinata, the kids barely noticed, even as the rain started and the thunder and lightning increased (Sis did realize Shirt was gone but he was soon recovered, along with Bud's penguin "Pengy.").

After several turns with the baseball bat, a nice hole appeared in the pinata and we gathered the fallen candy in glasses. Sis would only pick up chocolate Tootsie Rolls; Bud mainly looked for the pink cherry ones. Then we sat on the carpet and ate them, laughing and enjoying the novelty of candy for dinner.

Eventually, the rain lessened and the sky lightened into a bizarre yellow-orange, so we headed upstairs for dinner and punch and cake. The kids are now in bed asleep, not at all bothered by the storm.

I think the finished basement was the best present we could have gotten Mama today.

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Chocolate Rolls

A recipe from Gale Gand, on Food Network. It’s the only recipe of hers that I’ve really gotten to work. These are tasty, especially with orange extract, but sticky. I cut them in logs but rolled them into balls not “Tootsie” roll shapes, but they do taste a lot like Tootsie Rolls.

1 ½ cups chocolate chips, melted

½ cup corn syrup

¾ teaspoon warm water

½ teaspoon orange extract (can use other flavors; I think I used 1 teaspoon)

Combine all ingredients in a bowl and cover. Let it sit overnight to firm up. Roll into logs and cut into 1 inch sections. Wrap in decorative foil and papers.

Gale Gand, “Sweet Dreams”

Almost Sick

A huge thunderstorm with hail, high winds, torrential rain, and lightning is heading our way and I'm just nauseous. It was almost a year ago that we had a similar storm, with hail and high winds, including a circling funnel cloud that produced some kind of microburst that hit us head on, knocking a tree onto our house and car while we watched from the then-scary basement. Well, the basement is beautiful and I am watching the storm but I am just sick to my stomach.

An upside, Mama got off early and so won't be driving through it AND we get to celebrate her birthday tonight with our family party for which we've been preparing all day. That, and the basement is now habitable, should we need it.

I had macabrely joked that, since the basement was now complete, we wouldn't ever have another storm, but should beware of flooding or fire, something for which we are ready but not experienced. Well, I don't want to be wrong about that.

Or right, for that matter.

In THE Paper

My round-up of articles is shorter this time, but then so are my notes about what I read (and haven't quite yet gotten around to reading).

Health etc: Okay, I haven't read most of these yet, but if I link to them on my blog, I'm hoping to get to them soon.

• Getting fit in 6 minutes a day?
• Abs and your back
• Reasons to grow old

All of Motherlode: Just read Lisa Belkin every day; I do.

Food

• Sunday Beans: I love beans, as you know, and was excited to pick up this recipe for Cuban pintos. Just reading the article was wonderful.
• Vegetable Pies: Hmmmm, vegetarian pies to use up your extra produce. Wish there was a greens pie in the list, as I have lots of greens.
• Simple Syrup @ Bitten: check out the comments for lots of great syrup recipes and uses (including a great shrub recipe with fruit juice, vinegar, and seltzer).
• Chocolate Pudding @ Bitten. First, see Bittman's tofu pudding recipe. Then the dairy follow-up, which seems to diss Bittman's tofu. The best part? A comment (not mine): "I find it so odd how defensive people become about their dairy, eggs, and meat when faced with a delicious, animal-less alternative. That you feel confident that cream and eggs will “beat out tofu anytime” makes you sound a bit threatened…by tofu. Heh heh."
• 10 ingredients for a week
• Food and your brain

Miscellaneous

• I've been thinking on the idea of "variable reinforcement," mentioned in an article on food competition, where people continue to behave in certain ways even though the rewards are unpredictable or intermittent. Hmmm, wonder if it works with kids?
• The idea that growing up is all about forgetting comes up in the article on novelist Jodi Picoult. I think it's interesting that people tend to remember their most vivid experiences, which, in early childhood, are oftentimes unspleasant. But I've been trying to remember my earliest memories and several of them are not perfect happiness (being dropped on my head in preschool; losing my colored Easter eggs under the car; being picked up late at school, you know, the standard ones). Is this because I was happy most of the time, with only bits of unhappiness, which seems to be the oppostite of the time after early childhood, when people begin to worry and stress and then remember more vividly their most happy experiences? I'm not sure.
• I'm still pondering the post I just read by Judith Warner about insults moms receive. I think the issue might be that there aren't more insults for moms now (or versus dad) but that moms today, being more insecure and less confident and more competitive than before (perhaps) give them more weight.
• "Call no man happy until he is dead" and other musings on the afterlife and happiness (plus comments).

No "Please," Thank You

I would say, "do what I say, not what I do," except I forget to say it.

I forget to say "please."

And not just with my kids but with Mama, too.

Though, I do think I remember with strangers and friends. I hope.

I ask for things nicely, I think, and always as a question, not as a demand. But I forget the "please," often, adding it after a pause and a thought only sometimes.

Which is why my kids aren't great pleasers.

Now, I'm great at "thank you" and "sorry"; subsequently, my kids are too.

They've also picked up all my other verbal quirks, none of which I remember right now, but all of which sound like some older academic specializing in 19th-century literature has inhabited the body of a child. Yep, sometimes they sound pretty precocious. And from a different time period. Like with they way they preface frequent contradictions with "actually . . . ."

But, quirks aside, forgetting to say "please" is not precocious or socially acceptable. And so, I've been trying hard to remember to use it myself. At which point, I will encourage them to "do what I say."

Happy Birthday, Mama!

We love you, Mama! And are getting already for our family party tomorrow. Though, Sis wants to know where we're having it! And she thinks you want chocolate cupcakes. Bud votes for strawberry. Good thing you're flexible. And we're christening the basement with an art project for you . . . Have a great day!

Neverland

I'm watching the news and am just sitting here surprised.

Not so surprising that Farrah Fawcett has died, having struggled with cancer for more than 2 years. I remember her in "Charlie's Angels," which I watched devotedly, though as a fan of "Kelly," played by Jaclyn Smith.

But Michael Jackson? I'm stunned. Not saddened personally so much, having never been a big fan, though I did have "Thriller," of course. But his life was so complicated, apparently so difficult. It reminds me, though, of the unexpected death of Princess Diana, perhaps of John Lennon (though I don't remember that), going back further to Marilyn Monroe. Other icons who lived very public lives, but also seemed to be so troubled.

Taken together, it's a sad day.

Gotta Love Gail

Gail Collins on Mark Sanford, Governor of South Carolina:

"Perhaps it is time to rethink the idea of constantly electing middle-aged heterosexual men to positions of high importance."

You said it.

Rocking and Rolling Stones

There have been some new and fascinating archaeological finds in Southern Germany: clearly identifiable bone musical instruments dating back 35,000 years! They've even made a replica of one of the flutes and say it has quite harmonic tones. I'm sure there will be an MP3 eventually--talk about the oldies!

Space Travel

Wouldn't you know it? Today is the first nice day forecasted in weeks--mostly sunny with warm temperatures almost in the 80s.

And we've been in the baesment all morning!

Yep, the basement is done. Mama and I mopped last night (which we'll probably do everyday for awhile as it is dusty from the construction) and then let the cats explore. Albus was thrilled, Hermione was less assured. This morning we let the kids take some toys downstairs and start playing in the room (they had visited several evenings to check on the progress), leaving the door open (there is a lockable cat door but the cats aren't there yet) so the cats could join us.

And up and down we went all morning, bringing down more toys, just to try them out in a new space. Bud doesn't like being left down there alone, bright as it is, and so traverses the stairs whenever anyone else leaves. Sis doesn't mind as much. I played with them but also worked in the kitchen a bit, able to hear everything.

Still, it's a little odd. It is very loud and echo-y now, as there is almost nothing in the tiled space. And you can hear every seemingly thunderous step on the floor above. That, and less than a year ago, we all huddled in that very same place where our multi-colored carpet and Lincoln Logs now sit, watching hail fall, winds swirl, and a tree hit the house before the lights went out. Then it was a space that no one in the family readily entered (well, except the cats, who were maniacs about trying to get downstairs), dark, dank, dusty, cluttered. And now it really is this whole new place. Walking down there is something like entering a time warp (or worm hole!)--you feel like you're just in a totally strange location, so different is it from before.

But a good different, which I'm sure it will be still once the newness wears off and the lived-in look is achieved. It's optimistic (and no doubt misguided), but I feel like it's another opportunity to reshape how we do things, in that we are purging more stuff, organizing what we have, and just being with each other in a new way since it gives us more space, more freedom (since it encourages some separation), but also an area for experimentation and exploration (it's going to be our own creative workshop area). It's a cleansing, so to speak, not only of the physical basement but of the experience of that storm that upset us all. So let the sun shine--we can see it through those windows and door that once let us watch the storm--we're going to enjoy our new room.

Sleeping Like a Baby

I always wondered how parents pulled off secret, nighttime parental duties like Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy. I never caught my parents and, because I would try to catch them, was keenly aware of how difficult it must be for them to accomplish such things without my knowing. And now that I was a parent, how in the world was I going to do it?

But I know now: kids sleep like logs (Sometimes. Other times, they wake at the drop of a hat . . . or, well, something even quieter than that). You see, we need to put cream on Bud's staple 1-2 times a day. And, well, under the best of circumstances, the boy hates cream of any kind, anywhere. Now, he's particularly concerned with his head and his "head bonk" and won't tolerate anyone touching his head anywhere (not because it necessarily hurts but because he's scared it will). Today at the pediatrician's, he freaked out about the cream she put on his staple. And I'm supposed to do that at home?

So I suggested to Mama that we sneak into his room in the middle of the night and apply the cream. She blanched at the possibility of waking him but I persisted, arguing that the risk was worth avoiding the struggle of the cream. She finally agreed to help. Which was good, because he was sleeping practically under his pillow and needed to be hoisted into position, at which point I vigorously, probably too vigorously, slathered on a good helping of cream (Mupirocin, or Bactraban, for you nurses out there).

And he never woke up. He barely acknowledged that I had touched his head, by reaching his hand up to his scalp, but never opened his eyes or even shifted much at being relocated a good foot or so back onto his pillow.

I'm feeling much more confident in my ability to be the Tooth Fairy now, for sure.

Adventures in Cooking Our CSA Share: Freezing in June

Okay, so I'm not The Pioneer Woman, whose site I just discovered today in the comments section of Bitten about favorite food blogs (can't wait to read more of that), but I am very proud of my freezer. Nope, it's not a deep-freeze or sub-zero anything, just the freezer above the refrigerator section of my fridge. But it's filled with 7 pints of homemade strawberry freezer jam, numerous containers of assorted greens from our CSA box, and lots of bean and vegetable soups. Now it just needs some homemade ice cream! (Which is entirely possible because I have heavy cream in my fridge.) I feel downright domestic and definitely crunchy granola (I mean both of those in a postive, proud way).

I also have my new favorite fridge accessory on my freezer door: my NYC metro area local food wheel, which I purchased at Sturbridge this weekend. It features all the produce and food locally available by season in our area. And several of the items for June are ones we've gotten in our CSA box, including garlic scapes, greens, and kohlrabi. Plus the illustrations are delightful. If you live in the area (which is considered 150 miles from NYC) and go to farmer's markets or belong to a CSA, or just want to be more aware of the seasonality of food, or even like quirky kitchen items for use or adornment, this is perfect. You can come look at mine. And have some toast with jam, too!

Philhellenism

Then

I have long loved ancient Greece, and with it, where its remnants (mostly) live and are celebrated, modern Greece. My obsession with Greece started way back so long ago, when I was in the single digits, after Star Wars fandom but before teenaged dedication to pop musicians like Wham! and Culture Club. (Actually, thinking about it, perhaps my love of all things Star Wars paved the way for my love of Greek mythology and history, or so a reading of Joseph Campbell would have you believe.) I made temples to the gods at the beach of our bayhouse, dressed as Artemis and Athena for Halloween, had a pen pal in Athens (Yiassou, long lost Martha Bitsopoulou, wherever you now roam), took Latin because it was the closest to an ancient language I could get at my high school, went to Greek festivals and restaurants, traveled to Greece twice, paid homage to the Elgin Marbles at the British Museum when I went to London, and even declared a classical studies major in college, taking 8 semesters of ancient Greek language.

The New Acropolis Museum opened last week, what looks to be a beautiful, modern home to the archaeological treasures of the Parthenon, Erechtheion, etc. Well, all except, of course, as you probably know, the sculptures that make up the Elgin Marbles, which were looted in the early 19th-century by Lord Elgin, then ambassador to the Ottoman Empire which held Greece. Let us not get into that here (instead, go read Kimmelman, Hitchens, and Konstandaras etc.), if only because, while the temperature of that debate has been taken up several degrees with the completion of a suitable, safe home for the marbles, the disagreement between Greece and the British Museum is not likely to be settled, ever, to the satisfaction of all involved.

But I strongly remember my first visit to the "old" Acropolis Museum with its remaining damaged Caryatids housed in a dimly lit, thin case with dust visible everywhere. Even as an 18 year old on her first trip out of her own country, I knew enough to see that the museum was in tatters, that the marbles were better off in London, even though I had yet to see them there. Seeing everything I'd read about, dreamed about, was wonderful but also bittersweet; the state of it all often made me sad, like people who have beloved pets that they just can't take good care of. Despite that--because of that?--I have long had a soft spot for Greece and wished for its people a reunion with one of their most treasured masterpieces. And when the Olympics went off spectacularly, pretty much without a hitch, I had hopes for the country, maybe not for the return of the marbles, but even just for the possibility of being viewed without bemusement, frustration, and pity, as they had always seemed to be by their European (and American, though our relationship with Greece is different than Europe's) cohorts.

And it makes me want to go back. To create new memories of the Acropolis and its museum (which houses some ten times more than the old one), of the country as a whole, that has, in a way, grown up--which seems so patronizing to say of the many millennia-old homeland of Homer, Socrates, Euripides, Sappho, and Phidias--in the 20 years since I was there. I too have grown up in 20 years. And I'd love to go back again, both to Greece and to my childhood love, if only to see how Greece, and, perhaps as importantly, I have changed.

Now

Raise the Red Lantern

I bought toys today, kind of a post-hospital treat.

And they were all "Ni Hao, Kai Lan" toys.

The kids' choice.

But I concurred.

Because, you see, I don't think it's often that Chinese-themed toys appear in American toy stores. And there they were: a Chinese girl, some red lanterns, a distinctive Chinese gazebo and bridge, a dragonboat, even a house with some Chinese characters on the door.

And the kids have been playing with them for 3 hours. And we watched the show again. And they spoke Chinese back to the tv!!!

Yeah, I know--I'm falling prey to tv merchandising aimed at children. But, at least this tv show, for these children, can be very positive, as it presents a side of their history, their people, themselves that doesn't usually exist for the American preschool set.

Goodbye, Toys?

Lao Gong (Great-Grandfather) says, "If you play with your food, you don't need toys."

I think I'll have to get rid of all the toys.

Mama, I let the kids play with their food sometimes. It doesn't happen often--they don't have the inclination at most meals but when they do, I don't interrupt (unless we're running late to bedtime). Like a few nights ago. When we had stroganoff ("strong-on-off" Sis called it playfully, recognizing the juxtaposition) with egg noodles the other night, I let them party. Literally. Their tummies had a party. The noodles were the guests who danced around in the gravy. And then members of the turkey (it was ground turkey), mushroom, and onion families would go down into the party. Then the noodle people would go. It was all very lively, with discussions of the kind of music they were dancing to, as Sis and Bud wiggled in place.

Yeah, they were eating with their fingers. Yeah, they made a mess.

But, they didn't waste more than they usually would have. And I think they ate more.

Let's get the party started . . .

Tidbits

We had another discussion about food, particularly meat and vegetarianism the other day, because Bud just doesn't really like to eat meat, either chicken breasts or ground turkey, even though we encourage him, I encourage him. But he says he doesn't like the way it tastes. And Sis piped up, perceptively, "he's a vegetarian because you are. Is Mama a vegetarian?"

No, I said.

"Then I like to eat meat. Just like Mama."

-=-=-=

The kids are obsessed with where babies come from. They have liked hearing stories about when they were babies but now they're taking it back a step. They ask about their births. So, the other day, I showed them my C-section scar and explained what happened (though, we have yet to really venture into how babies go in there to begin with). Bud wanted to know if it was dark in there, if he could see. I said it was dark; he thought I should put in some lights! Sis was a bit disappointed--she wanted to know that we had gone to the baby store and selected her specifically. I did try to explain that people have children in many different ways and, while adoption doesn't quite work like a "baby store" anymore, some people don't birth their babies. But we all love them, just the same. And today at the doctor's office we looked at the "body parts book," which has diagrams of the human body, organs, skeleton, etc. They love the ear page, the "poop page," and the penis and vagina page. And there was a uterus and a vaginal opening and more discussions of babies. And of staples--Bud was intrigued that I was stapled closed just like he was (well, I said staples, I think they were stitches). Did it keep me together? He's nervous about his head but seemed happy that I understood staples. When we got home, they even played out their birth in a cardboard box. They both climbed in and had me open it up and pull them out. "We're your babies!"

Then they climbed in and asked to be "born again." How do you explain to 4 year olds that UUs don't do "born again"?

A Day in the Life

I was thinking a lot about ancestors yesterday, or even just the past, as my kids and I partook of a New England summer ritual: berry picking. For about an hour we happily but haphazardly picked berries, eating a lot as we went, gathering about 13 lbs of ripe and almost ripe fruit from about 2 rows of bushes. Then we took the berries home (fast forwarding a lot through the now-famous fall at the park and subsequent trip to the ER) and spent the remainder of the afternoon processing them. First, placing them all in the fridge in shallow trays and then pulling out batches for jam and pie. It takes awhile to wash and hull 4 quarts of berries. And then do it again with 1 1/2 quarts. All the while boiling sugar or baking pie crusts or washing jars and lids.

And then I had a moment of clarity about how busy and exhausting harvest time must have been long ago. (I probably shouldn't limit it to long-ago ancestors. I have cousins--hi Cousin S--who are farmers and whose lives very much revolve around the weather and the harvest, whose work is round-the-clock exhausting or worrying when crops come in or weather threatens. Sure, they have equipment that farmers didn't have 100 years ago, but that doesn't mean it's easy. Even so, I'm not sure it's the same--I hope it's not--as people living at the beginning of the century before last; starvation doesn't quite threaten in the same immediate way.) Because my ancestors, all of our ancestors (more on that eventually because I just read a fascinating article about how if you go back so many generations, all of our ancestors are exactly the same ones!) didn't go berry picking for fun or just for an hour one day during the season. And it couldn't be haphazard with them eating so much along the way--this would be the majority of their food for the off season. Then, they didn't have just 13 lbs to deal with, nor a refrigerator, stovetop, oven, and the like to help them with the work. Or the security and comfort of knowing that if it didn't work, there was the store or other food. It wasn't entertainment, a teachable moment. Even after a few hours, we were losing enthusiasm for prepping berries and making jam and pie. And they didn't do it just once but for several days. Or else. Plus all the other things too. Because, no doubt, they weren't just busy with berries but with squashes and lettuce and cucumbers and then the crops of the next season and later the prepping and the planting and . . . and . . . and . . .

All said and done, our pie and 4 pints of jam are delicious and will be a wonderful reminder of a great day (as soon as we can forget the fall part. Oh, and if you want more information on the contemporary canning movement, see here.). But I'm glad it's just that--a fun summer afternoon experience and not the difference between survival and starvation.

-=-=-=-=

Fresh Strawberry Pie

1-1/2 quarts fresh strawberries
1 cup sugar
3 tablespoons cornstarch
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 nine-inch baked pastry shell

- Cap strawberries; reserve half of the best ones. Mash the other half and add sugar and cornstarch which have been mixed together. Cook 5 or 6 minutes until clear and thick. Stir in lemon juice. Cool.
- Add whole strawberries to the cooled mixture, save some for garnish. Pour into baked pie shell. Top with whipped cream and garnish with fresh whole strawberries (though, we like it even better with a dollop of sour cream!)

strawberry pamphlet

-=-=-=-=-

Strawberry Freezer Jam

4 lbs strawberries, rinsed and hulled and crushed (or 3-12 oz bags unsweetened frozen, thawed in fridge until soft enough to crush)

1 1/2 cups sugar

plastic or glass freezer jars

1 packet of Ball No Cook Freezer Jam Pectin

Stir sugar and pectin together in a bowl until well mixed.

Add 4 cups crushed fruit. Stir 3 minutes.

Ladle jam into clean jars to fill line. Twist on lids. Let stand until thickened, about 30 minutes.

Freeze for up to 1 year. Thaw in fridge and enjoy up to 3 weeks.

Makes 5 half-pint jars.

Ball Freezer Jam pectin

All Through the Night

Everything is fine this morning. Bud woke up excited to look at his "instrument dinosaurs" sketchbook with us and is now running around the house with Sis in his glowing pajamas. When he accidentally touched his stapled head to my chest, he momentarily paused. I asked if he was okay and he said, "it feels like a real head."

Good enough.

First Check

We're supposed to check on Bud every 2-3 hours tonight, to make sure he is asleep and not unconscious. He's sleeping just fine right now, despite being partially roused by our poking at him.

It's going to be a long night, very reminiscent of those early ones, except this time we're waking him up!

Thanks to all of you who have called and sent email. I appreciate your thinking of us.

Update Quickly

Bud's home with one staple in the back of his head. It hurt, he said, a lot, but he was very brave. So was Mama. Me? Not as much. But Sis and I had our postponed picnic on the living room floor, called all the grandparents, and watched Imagination Movers while they were gone.

We go tomorrow for a follow-up with the pediatrician and his tetanus booster, just in case (he's due in a month anyway). And then he'll get the staple out in a week.

No swimming until then, and only minimal hairwetting. But otherwise, we just need to watch him for the next 72 hours--until Friday noonish--to see if there are any complications.

Keep your fingers crossed.

Otherwise, we've been processing some of our 13 lbs of strawberries that we picked this morning before the park and the fall--4 jars of freezer jam using Ball Freezer Pectin plus one fresh strawberry pie (recipes eventually). Mama and Bud are continuing the drawings of "instrument dinosaurs" a la "Little Einsteins" that they started at the ER (think "bongo-saurus" with drums for a tummy, etc.) And, with everything else, we haven't even yet ventured downstairs to see the now completely finished basement!

All in good time. For now, we are eating strawberries and counting our blessings.

Bud Fell Down and Broke His Crown

Yes, we had an accident on the playground about two hours ago. And now Bud is at the hospital, after a visit to the pediatrician, along with Mama to get a few staples to close the gash in the back of his head where he hit a stepped crossing bridge. Thing is, I was standing right there when it happened, encouraging him, saying he was doing great and wouldn't fall.

Please keep us in your thoughts--the fall was awful and the hospital will be scary.

And all I can think about is poor Natasha Richardson.

Adventures in Cooking Our CSA Share: Garlic Scapes

Check out this great article on garlic scapes with lots of recipes, from the NYTimes's Melissa Clark. Can't wait to try the double garlic soup, the reinvented garlic bread, and the white bean and garlic scapes dip.

The Cowgirl and the Little Drummer Boy

We had a great day at Old Sturbridge Village this weekend, taking in their special Music and Art activities.

For music, we watched visitors learn 19th-century country dances accompanied by a fiddle and flute and then enjoyed hearing an introduction to antique instruments (that is until the musician blew a conch shell and scared Bud to death). But our favorite was the fife and drum display. Bud sat absolutely mesmerized by the skill of the drummer and the discussions about the music by the fife player. And then he convinced Mama to buy him his own regimental drum. He wanted to wear it just like the drummer and then wandered around the village counting 1-2-3 and playing his own beats. And I noticed something: every single man, particularly the older ones, would look at Bud making his music, loudly, and would smile a knowing, happy, even envious smile. The women would either offer pitying or sympathetic looks. Or, maybe it was "are you out of your mind?" Since then, at home, Bud has recreated the presentation dozens of times: I give the little talk (i.e. "the next song is an old English drinking song used by the miltia to call the soldiers together) and then he counts and starts to play; sometimes, I accompany him on the recorder (because I can't play the fife that Mama also bought, for her birthday, which you blow across like a flute). He also calls the drum his "fifing drum," not realizing that the presentation was of a fife and drum.

Sis got something, too: two oxen, which she correctly identified much to the delight of the shop clerk. But then, we'd just heard the drivers give a short presentation on the Village's oxen and Sis remembers everything. She even had us yoke them together at home with pipecleaners and popsicle sticks! In fact, Sis was playing with her oxen when an older couple approached us to interact with the kids. And then, addressing me, wondered if I was the grandma or mom. WHAT?? But after they left, Mama clarified--they thought I was the grandmother because they probably thought she was the mom. Just one more example of strangers recognizing that we have a relationship and being totally unable to identify it. Now, if you saw us, would you really think "oh, they're mother and daughter" (or, well, more often, son. Yes, it happens. Almost everytime the four of us are together on weekends. Seriously), instead of "oh, they're a lesbian couple." Come on, people.

Then there were the arts and craft: we made marbled paper. The kids got to choose the colored paint (washable mixed with water to the consistency of watercolor) which the volunteers would then drip into a tray of dense liquid (some kind of wallpaper paste/solvent added to water--I bet you could use water and will let you know). Then they swirled it with a comb and dipped the piece of heavy paper on the surface of the water, rubbing out the bubbles. It took almost 24 hours to dry but made these great colored papers.

Otherwise, I had a few proud mommy moments: both kids knew how to work the water well in the kids' hands-on area (you pour the bucket into the front part of the well, not directly into the carrying bucket!) and they knew to use a "toe toaster" by placing it on the floor and spinning it with your toe--Sis even placed bread in it first! Can you tell they've been on too many historic house tours already? And we're just getting started--I can't wait until we "graduate" to Deerfield or Plimoth Plantation or Colonial Williamsburg! Yep, I'm a fun "grandma."

I Miss You

Oh, dear babysitter, I miss you. The kiddos were asking for you this morning, wanting to tell you about the drum Buddy got at Old Sturbridge Village this weekend, about the aquarium he and Sis have built, and Sis wants to play Imagination Movers with you (which one are you?).

I miss those 6 hours a week that you are here. I haven't been to PT. I had to rope friends in to watch the kids for a doctor's appointment (no big deal; followup ultrasound, seems ok), then drag the kids to the dentist to get my new nightguard for grinding my teeth. And I haven't been to the museum at all. I'm behind on blogs, email, phone calls, cards, and presents. And the house, oh, the house, it's as messy as it's been in, well, maybe ever, both clutter and dirt.

Okay, so, I'm usually behind on most of that, but I feel more behind now.

I hadn't quite realized how much I deeply, deeply appreciate your time here each week.

And I still have two weeks before you get back. I hope you're having fun. We miss you. Wish you were here!

Three Cheers for Mama Teacher

Happy Birthday!

Happy Anniversary!

Happy Solstice!

Happy Father's Day!

To Pop

To Gong

To Goo

To Uncle Soccer

To Lambeth

To Uncle W

To both Mr. Ks

We love you!

First There is a Mountain

First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.
The caterpillar sheds his skin to find a butterfly within.
Caterpillar sheds his skin to find a butterfly within.

Donovan, "There is a Mountain"

Kenny Loggins, with his daughter Hana, has a new recording (and video) of "There is a Mountain." I've seen it before every episode of the Imagination Movers for the last several days and the tune, and the image of Hana as a "butterfly princess," as my kids have dubbed her, has stuck in my head.

But I didn't understand the lyrics. There's a mountain. There's not a mountain. What is this? Things aren't what they seem? We create obstacles or barriers and then overcome them so they aren't barriers anymore? Is this a kid's song?

I played the video snippet for Mama, who immediately googled it. It's not Kenny Loggins, but Donovan, of whom I am woefully ignorant (she wasn't, completely). And apparently he was an adherent of Buddhism.

The song apparently references a Zen parable, as one commentor at a lyric site described:

before one begins Zen practice, mountains are mountains and rivers are rivers, as one is progressing through Zen, mountains are no longer mountains and rivers are no longer rivers , then, when one has mastered the practice, mountains are mountains and rivers are rivers.

Another notes:

First, in our ordinary natural way of thinking, we look at a mountain and we see it as a mountain. Then, as we learn about Buddhist concepts, we realize that the "mountain" is a signifier created by people, but in reality, philosophically, the Universe is one, it is not made up of separate things, but OUR PERCEPTION makes it appear that way. Then, once we have absorbed these startling ideas, we can, paradoxically, go back to the normal way of viewing things, and see that "there is a mountain" there. While realizing that you can look at it the other way.

See, Buddhism really does seem everywhere to me these days. Even on the Disney Channel!

Okay, so that's not your traditional Buddhist teacher, but I take information and inspiration where I find it. I've had attachment, and particularly unattachment, on the brain this week and think I grasp some of what the song is saying, this being unattachment not just to physical things but to ideas and perceptions.

But, really, maybe I should find a book or something.

Like a mountain.

Let the Sun Shine In

It wasn't supposed to be pretty outside today, but after, what, 18 straight days of rain, including 2 1/2 inches just yesterday, and temperatures in the low 60s, today was an amazing change with sunshine, blue skies, and higher temperatures.

So, this morning, we headed to "our" farm for our box, where we also purchased two pretty plants, sonset lantanas which my Aunt J had growing at her beach house (perhaps in slightly different colors). And, while we looked for deer on the way, we didn't see any.

By the afternoon, it was gorgeous outside and we decided to picnic and play. We planted our new garden greenery, the lantanas by the wall, the herbs in pots, all of which Sis watered from the rain-filled kiddie pool. The kids got these paratrooper toys when they went with me to the dentist on Wednesday and have had a blast throwing them into the air and watching them float down. Today they made the paratroopers a lake and stream to play in while I constructed a fairy house that they could also inhabit.

It was a beautiful day and we ended it fortified against the rest of the forecasted rainy days to come.

The Other Woman

My maternal grandfather was not my maternal grandmother's first husband, nor the father of her first child. A similar thing happened to Mama's grandparents. And to our minister. Blended families, stepchildren, orphans, widows, divorcees. Families are linked in love through many kinds of relationships. If something happened to me, I'd want Mama to find someone. Thanks toMotherlode for sharing one such story with readers, "My Husband's Other Wife."

Adventures in Cooking Our CSA Share: Lunch, Dinner ,and NPR

Right now, Mama is sauteeing garlic scapes with curly kale and kohlrabi while I listen to NPR's Morning Edition's series, "Farm Fresh Food Finds" on squash flowers, or "nature's ravioli." While I'm not expecting squash flowers in our CSA box, we will get collards, another featured veggie on the series, which explores farmer's markets, their seasonal offerings, and recipes for such.

Not that Mama needs recipes. The saute she whipped up, which she cooked with olive oil and kosher salt, and finished with pepper and lemon juice, was superb. I liked the kohlrabi cooked better than I liked it raw and sliced into my lunchtime salad. And lemon was a nice change from all the garlic (so was the red wine vinegar I splashed into the soups).

I can't wait for tomorrow: Hakurei turnips, radishes, lettuce, escarole, cucumbers, garlic scapes, collard greens, kale, kohlrabi, Asian stir fry mix, and baby spinach. (Funny side note: the email announcing the produce actually described the collard greens, as if they were strange. Just shows where I grew up, I guess. I needed to google Hakurei and escarole, not collards!).

Scary Stories

Do you read Jodi Picoult's novels?

I don't, but my friends do and highly recommend them, repeatedly. I have shied away without any good reasons except wariness of books that are everywhere--not just bookstores, but grocery stores, convenience stores, drug stores, and airports (it took me more than 4 years to read DaVinci Code, finally goaded by guilt after a maternal brouhaha. It was okay. Yes, I can be a book snob, about other people's books; my twinkie books are good! It's a holdover from being an academic, straight A student snob).

Having read both an article and a blog post about the author and her novels, I now know I was right to stay away from her books. Describing the books, Gina Bellafante writes:

IN THE NOVELS of Jodi Picoult, terrible things happen to children of middle-class parentage: they become terminally ill, or are maimed, gunned down, killed in accidents, molested, abducted, bullied, traumatized, stirred to violence. The assault on any individual family is typically mounted from angles multiple and unforeseen.

But, I am not one of those people, such as Motherlode author Lisa Belkin, who needs such reading as part of their ritual of worry. Writes Belkin,

But the act of worry is almost a talisman now, a ritual that reminds me how fragile the moment, and how much to savor the now. Notice that all my worries are about my children. I’ve come to understand that that’s what parenting is — seeing the dangers of the world with newly sensitive eyes, pretending you can protect them, and giving thanks for all the things that don’t go wrong.

Does that mean I don't worry about my kids? No, of course not. I'm just not looking for new things to worry about, like clerical sexual abuse, murder, terminal illnesses, just some of the topics of her novels. And I don't have a cathartic release reading (or watching, because, as Bellafante notes, these novels often become tv movies or series episodes) such books. I don't really feel lucky that it's not us or prepared for the possibility of it being us. And so that leaves little impetus for reading Picoult's books, or any in the genre of endangered-child novels (Bellafante traces the emergence of the genre to the 1980s, when, because of various news events from the McMartin preschool case to the Adam Walsh kidnapping, society became--and continues to be--obsessed with worrying about the fate of its children even in seemingly safe environments.). Picoult herself sees her novels almost as community service, noting "Maybe the average reader is not facing the daily challenges of a mom whose child is dying of cancer, for example, but she probably had an argument with her teenager that morning about something inconsequential that left her feeling frustrated and certain there’s no middle ground between them." Picoult hopes her books provide that middle ground. For now, I try to find that middle ground without scaring or worrying myself to death by reading such novels. Which is probably why I usually just read cookbooks!

Thumbs Up, Thumbs Down

It's raining again here in Connecticut, with more rain forecasted for the next 10 days, after 4 weeks of rain every Friday and more! Our house, stale and damp, is a wreck with toys and relocated basement detritus as we move from room to room playing aquarium and zoo (versions where the kids are animals/marine life or where they build places for animals/marine life with blocks), Imagination Movers (this is either a highly scripted reenactment of particular episodes or a musical free-for-all), campers, restaurant, picnic, vet, etc. etc.

Today, while playing restaurant, Sis came across her Sesame Street Yummy Cookies: Baking with Kids cookbook, so they pretended to bake every recipe in the book. And then they decided they wanted real cookies. Short on ingredients, we decided upon thumbprint cookies with jelly insides. They helped mix the very soft dough, imprint the dough balls, and fill them with apricot and raspberry jams, then played while they baked.

Success! Immediately, they chose the biggest cookies to give to our basement contractor downstairs, who enjoyed the warm cookies even though one was so soft that it broke off in his hand and fell in his paint! Then they started in on their trays, the apricot for Sis and the raspberry for Bud.

And Bud ate only the filling. And Sis ate only the "crust." But neither wanted the other's leftovers, so I nibbled at them. Yummy! It's a very tender cookie with a fine crumb. I'm thinking they would be great with Nutella (once they can try that. Soon, soon, I hope) or even lemon curd--think that would bake okay? Of course, orange marmalade would be my first choice.

So, it occurs to me, despite the triumph of these cookies, that I need to stock my baker's pantry better so we have more versatility when it comes to cookie baking. My guess is that we've just baked down my stores without my replenishing them. Some things to always keep on hand:

• old-fashioned oats
• a jar of jelly, any flavor
• chips, chocolate and other flavors (butterscotch, milk, white, one day PB)
• nut butter (use sunflower seed butter for nut allergies)
• dried fruit (raisins, craisins, apricots)
• cocoa
• one box cake mix and a jar of frosting (also, can have a brownie mix box)
• sprinkles, jimmies, colored sugars, and other decorations
• cupcake papers
• I'll add a can of pumpkin here, too, as Sis wants to try the book's Magical Pumpkin Cookies next.

Plus the usual staples:

• butter
• sugar (white, powdered, and brown)
• flour
• baking soda
• baking powder
• eggs
• milk
• butter/shortening (I usually only use butter)
• salt
• extracts (vanilla, almond)
• spices (cinnamon, nutmeg)
• cooking spray

I think I'd better go shopping soon, to get ready for the next 10 days of rain.

-=-=-=-=-

Thumbprint Cookies

1 cup (2 sticks) butter, softened

1/2 cup powdered sugar

2 tablespoons packed light brown sugar

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 egg

2 cups flour

1/4 cup jam, any flavor

Preheat oven to 300F.

Cream the butter with the sugars and salt for 2 minutes until light and fluffy. Add the egg and beat until blended.

Add the flour, 1/2 cup at a time, beating well after each addition.

*The directions say to chill the dough in a disk-shape for an hour in the fridge but it's not necessary.

Shape the dough into 1" balls. Place the balls 1" apart on an ungreased cookie sheet.

Gently press the center of each ball with your thumb. FIll the depression with a heaping 1/4 teaspoon jam (or to your liking--clean up any extra jam that gets on the cookie sheet to avoid burning).

Bake for 25-27 minutes or until the tops of the cookies are light golden brown. Cool for 1 minute and then transfer to wire racks to cool completely.

Sesame Street's Yummy Cookies: Baking with Kids

Big Night

Real quick, 'cos it's later than I wanted to be up: tonight I drove into town (but not THE town) all by myself which I had never done before, met up with a friend from grad school, had dinner, navigated traffic on the way home, and got home, all without getting lost (or nervously sick to my stomach). I've very proud of myself, just for the technical feat alone.

Plus, it was great to see my friend and talk shop and school for a night.

Patience Is As Patience Does, or Lessons in Kindness

It has been an interesting week for life lessons for me.

On Monday, I had what I would say was one of my biggest public tantrums. And it happened at a place called Friendly's. Mommy Goose and I were there with the kids, having gone to a great workshop at an art museum. And the service was awful. No two ways about it. We'd stop the waitress to ask for various things and she'd just say "soon" or "I'm not ignoring you," until it got to the point that she would turn her head all the way around as she passed our table. I had to ask her twice to please take our ice cream orders, having already been at lunch an hour, which is about 45 minutes longer than preschoolers need. She did take the order. And nothing happened. Mommy Goose timed it. At 10 minutes, with kids growing increasingly restless and moms growing increasingly concerned about a meltdown, I followed her to the front to ask where our ice cream was. "It's coming." It didn't. 10 more minutes found me standing in the kitchen in full view of the dining room telling the waitress I would wait for my ice cream right there in the middle of everything. The manager, standing not 10 feet from where I was talking and gesticulating (talking, not yelling), ignored me completely. So I called him over and told him how unimpressed I was--first, there were no wraps, then no chocolate ice cream, and then it took 20 minutes for our ice cream to arrive (actually, it took 23, because there were a few minutes after my tirade). THEN THEY GOT IT WRONG!!!! Bud didn't get strawberry sauce and had only 2 M&Ms on his candy sundae. Sis's "cone head" cone was on Bud's sundae. We made it work but the kids were disappointed and exhausted. We'd been in Friendly's for one hour and 45 minutes by the time we got out.

I was pissed.

But I didn't rant again because we had gotten what we had waited for, sort of. The waitress was subdued, the manager had disappeared. I tipped her because I imagine the fault is not entirely hers (the manager just seemed like a slimy weasel. And I can just imagine he's incompetent.). There were no apologies, no free dessert, no comped anything. We won't be going back. To that Friendly's. Or to any Friendly's. It's not and doesn't make me so.

Then, to cap it all off, Sis's purple balloon floated away from her in the parking lot, reducing her to tears, and almost me too. But after the experience we'd had, I just couldn't go in and ask for another balloon. Embarrassed and ashamed at myself? Sure. Just ready to put it behind us? Of course. So I told her we'd get her a balloon from our supermarket and loaded her in the car.

Just then, a woman approached us. With a purple balloon in hand. And gave it to Sis, saying as I gratefully thanked her that she would do it for any child because it just makes kids so sad to lose a balloon. I think she was behind us, leaving the restaurant, when Sis lost hers and so went back inside to get another. I don't know if she'd seen the deterioration of me and our meal.

And it was the perfect lesson in graciousness and kindness in the face of disappointment and less-than-perfect. I mulled it over all the long way home. Because, you see, I rarely lose my cool the way I had (though, of course, it could've been much worse--I didn't call anyone names or yell, just stated what we needed. Now.). I'm usually quite patient and forgiving. (Though, awful service in restaurants sometimes really, really bothers me). But something about the absurdity of lunch and the coup de grace of the ice cream got to me. Even as I realized how spoiled that made me and the children seem. Because of course, there are bigger things to worry about. And usually I'm not flustered by having to wait. But come on, 20 minutes for ice cream?! Part of me still feels taken advantage of and disrespected. Especially because I had paid for the privilege.

Even though it really is the only reason we got our ice cream (and by then, I'd wished I'd ordered some!), I'm still sorry I got up and made a scene, even if Mommy Goose tells me that only the staff and the table next to me (also waiting for ice cream) probably noticed. I don't like scenes. I want to be the balloon lady.

And so I had another chance today. Because, you see, the guys who mow our lawn cut down all of our sunflower plants. Probably accidentally, just from sheer not paying attention because the plants were tall and obviously circled in stones to indicate they were special. And now they've been completely cut down to the quick. "It's so sad," Bud said. Sis begged to get more. And even though the mower guys were still in the area when I realized what had happened, I didn't follow them and throw a fit, make a scene. What is, is. (I guess unlike the ice cream, there was nothing I could do to bring back our sunflowers to life.) I hope that means I've regained some of my equilibrium. Or maybe, like Momma Zen, I have given up on patience only to find it.

But one of the strands running through my mind, and the thought that still follows me, is about attachment, in the Buddhist sense of the word, i.e. that suffering is caused by attachment. I had wondered, in reading many of Momma Zen's posts, how you could be a parent and not be attached--it seems the very definition of parenting to be attached (in fact, that's what a whole parenting philosophy is called). Okay, so I'm not attached to ice cream, but I am attached to my public personae of good parent (threatened by the possibility of a meltdown about ice cream) and calm, rational person, as well as the happiness of my own kids, all of which were challenged by Friendly's service. Then, I was attached to those sunflowers because I remember the day we bought them from one of the school teachers, how excited we were to plant them, how I had looked forward to watching them grow. And now I have to let that all go. Similarly, a week or so ago, Albus our cat broke one of my glass doo-dads, a big, heavy Texas dish given to me by my mom that I liked to keep things in. He knocked it off the dresser and it hit part of the radiator and shattered. Mama cleaned it up and said we could get another. Just like Sis had asked for more sunflowers. But I don't need another glass Texas dish. Or even sunflowers. I need to feel the feelings I have, of sadness and loss (even in these minor cases. Yes, I'm aware that everything I've mentioned seems so . . . small . . . in the grand, universal realm of things), and to get through them. Having a new dish or flowers or getting back to my rational self doesn't erase or undo what happened. I just have to not be so vested in those things. Which then means, I guess, that I don't need replacements to make me feel better (though, I like having rational me back, though I am more aware of the tenuous state of my temper some days). I just need to let it pass. And I think that must be what Momma Zen meant when she wrote about attachment:

It simply means that when the ebb and sway of life carries us along, we can let go because we see all of it in a different way. . . . Non-attachment is the nature of life itself: it keeps going. Non-attachment allows us to love one another and life as it is regardless of whether we like it right now or not.

But even just beginning to understand that, I'm still not unattached.

Because if I were, I would have let it all go and not be rehashing it on this blog. Just like the story in Zen Shorts, our children's book with Buddhist stories. One day an old priest and a young priest came to a swollen river where a woman couldn't cross. The old priest picked her up and, though he carried her all the way across, she abused and harrassed him. He put her down on the other side and kept going. Hours later, the young priest turned to the old priest and asked how he could stand to be abused by that rude woman. The old priest replied, "I put her down hours ago. You're the one still carrying her around."

Explain It To Me

Because I just don't understand: President Obama says he wants health insurance for all Americans.

But he has stopped short in extending health insurance to the gay and lesbian partners of federal employees, only offering some job benefits in a presidential memorandum.

Does that mean we aren't quite Americans?

Adventures in Cooking Our CSA Share: Escarole and Struggles

Well, we are really behind in our veggie box this week. Probably for two reasons: we weren't here for the weekend and we didn't go grocery shopping to pick up ingredients to complement last week's produce. So I find myself staring at a greens-filled fridge not sure what to do. I'm going to give away some lettuce again, having already given away the hakurei (Mama Teacher, they were turnips!!!), bok choi and lettuce to the grandparents, and we're going to try to push through the rest, hoping it doesn't go bad before we can cook it.

That leaves

• curly kale--gonna just stir fry it
• a dozen eggs--hmm, what's a quintessential egg dish? an omelet?
• lettuce--this is the easy one but easiet to forget too
• kohlrabi--hmmm. stir fry? or eat raw with dip? I can try again next week.
• garlic scapes--I had thought about making hummus (no tahini, though; and the pesto has 1/2 cup of oil!) but will probably add them to the omelet. This will be in the next box, too.
• escarole--I made a soup tonight and will make another soup tomorrow night (see below). Again, we get more escarole this week.

That's a lot of veggies for 1-2 days!

So, some things I've learned about our CSA box:

• I'm not really good at identifying vegetables. Which you don't have to do at the grocery store because there are signs with the prices. I almost put lettuce in my soup today and ate the escarole straight up, which would not have been good.
• I don't really know which veggies will go bad first. I realize that the key to cooking our CSA share is using the most perishable produce first. But I don't know what that is. And I can't find a list online. Though, I'm learning. It's a steep learning curve, and expensive too.
• I don't know how to prep most of these vegetables: can you eat the stem? can you eat the leaves? I don't have to put them in my dishwasher, right? (this harkens back to a story about Southern women so stressed about gritty greens that they put them on the top rack of their dishwasher and run it through rinse. Now, for the life of me, I can't recall what book that's in).
• Every recipe starts with olive oil and garlic.
• Cooking new-to-me produce every night is rather stress producing, even if the recipes are simple.
• But I've liked almost everything.

-=-=-=-=-=

Escarole and Bean Soup

1/4 lb White beans
5 c vegetable or chicken broth
2 Tablespoons olive oil
2 Tablespoons minced garlic
1 onion, diced
2 c chopped escarole
Salt and pepper -- to taste
croutons, optional

SOAK THE BEANS OVERNIGHT IN WATER. Drain. Place beans in a pot, add broth, cover and cook over medium heat until beans are soft, about 30 minutes. (or use canned white beans if there isn't time to soak and cook...) Meanwhile, place another pot on the stove, add oil, place over medium heat, add garlic and onion and cook, stirring occasionally, for 7 minutes, or until onions soften. Add the escarole and continue to cook until wilted, another 10 minutes. Add the beans and broth to the pot with the escarole. Add salt and pepper as desired, cover and simmer for 20 minutes. Serve hot, with the addition of croutons if desired. serves 8

from our CSA people

-=-=-=-=-=

Garlic Escarole Soup with Rice

1 tablespoon olive oil

3 medium onions, thinly sliced

4 garlic cloves, minced

8 cups stock

1 teaspoon salt, or to taste

1 medium head escarole, washed and roughly chopped (about 5 cups)

1/2 cup Arborio rice (I just used pre-cooked white rice, as I had it on hand)

grated Parmesan cheese to taste

Heat oil in large soup pot over medium-high heat. Add onions and cook uncovered for 15-20 minutes, until caramelized. Reduce heat to low, add garlic, and cook for another 5 minutes.

Add stock and bring to a boil. Add the salt and rice and cook for 5 minutes.

Add escarole. Simmer, covered, for about 10 minutes, until rice and escarole are tender. Season to taste with salt. Serve with Parmesan cheese. (We didn't have cheese and so served it with a bit of lemon juice).

Johnna Albi and Catherine Walthers, Greens Glorious Greens! (adapted--they had chicken stock and shredded chicken, too)

Basement Update

The tile is one the floor but awaiting its grout. The walls are primed but awaiting their coats of paint. There will soon be new stairs and a bannister (on the botttom), new doors to storage and mechanical things, a new cat door in the door at the kitchen, and all the other last bits. He says he'll be done by Friday. Which is still amazingly fast, just two full weeks.

But then the hard part begins, getting everything back to "normal." Well, no, wait, I don't want normal. I want better. So there are books, furniture, toys, and so many things to relocate, things to toss, things to reorganize. The fun part, right? Actually, I'm really looking forward to it. To the house working. But I think it will take awhile (and some money, which we don't want to shell out right away, so some items will be catch as catch can--i.e., if we put a tv down there for dance and performance purposes, it will be our old tv on our old tv stand) probably a lot longer than actually renovating the basement. Gommie, we promise to have space for your aerobed in the new "library" by the time you're here in a month (or, maybe even a futon in the basement, if you want to try that!).

Tonight's Dinner Discussion

On seeing the bone in the ham steak the kids had with mac-and-cheese, Sis immediately asked, "what's that?"

"That's the bone. Ham comes from pigs."

"From pigs." Pause. "What comes from cats?"

"Well, sweetie, we don't eat cats."

Bud is listening attentively. But Sis poses the next question, "How did they get it out? Squeeze it?"

"No, see, meat comes from dead animals. Not like an egg from a chicken or milk from a cow. They killed the animal and cut it up into meat."

Silence.

"Can I see?" she says. "Because I love meat!"

"No, we don't need to see."

Finally, Bud responds. "Mommy, that is so sad. Why would they do that to their pig? Who cuts up their pig? That makes me so sad."

"Well, Buddy, some people eat meat, like Mama and pretty much everyone you know, and that's okay. And some people like me think that it's sad and don't eat meat. You can be either one."

Sis chimes in. "What other animals do we eat?"

"Mostly pigs, chickens, cows, turkey and fish."

"Buddy loves fish," she says. "I love meat."

"Yep, and that's just fine."

Bud reiterates, "That's just so sad."

But Sis has the final word, "can I touch the bones?"

Two totally different kids. Reminds me of the story of the two sons of an alcoholic: one is an alcoholic and one is a teetotaler. When asked why, they both respond, "with a dad like mine, how could I be any other way?"

A Weekend In Pictures

Pictures, with asides, from our weekend, in rough chronological order.

The NY Aquarium--isn't this otter so cute? Definitely a new "happy place" of mine.

The kids preferred the penguins, walruses, sea lion, jelly fish (Sis), sharks (Bud), well, almost anything to the otter!

For lunch, we headed out in to Coney Island and had Nathan's hot dogs and French Fries. Even I, the vegetarian, had a bite of hot dog and could, admittedly, "switch teams" for them. So good! But I liked my bag of fries and orangeade just fine, thanks! I also really enjoyed seeing the boardwalk--I'd never been to Coney Island before, or, for that matter, walked on a boardwalk that I recall.

While there was definitely some Coney Island weirdness ("shoot the freak" carnival game where you get to paintball shoot a live target, anyone?) or the "world's largest rat" and other things at a bonafide freak show, we much preferred the carousel. Sis rode the white bunny; Bud rode the purple ostrich, seen below.

The garish colors are tres Coney Island.

Back at Ma and Gong's house that afternoon, we managed to flag down the ice cream man and enjoy scoops, despite the rain.

Then, after lots of playing with Mama and Goo's old toys--Dolly Pops, Darda Demon Speed Way, a Monster truck, and, say it ain't so, Barbies!!!! (actually, I had them, Mama had them. No harm done. Sis particularly liked the plastic horse and cowgirl clothes. But, all you gift-giving people, I DO NOT WANT Barbies for Sis for this birthday, please, if only because she can't do any of the clothes by herself. Yeah, that's it)--they made their beds on the floor and actually retired into them after only one story.

And despite all our fears that they wouldn't sleep, they did. Absolutely. All night. It's Mama and I who didn't sleep well, listening for them, of all things.

The next day was the birthday celebration, the offerings in honor of it seen here below. Including the cupcake cake Sis and I baked and decorated. See how there are no sprinkles on the chocolate part? She doesn't like sprinkles.

While the weather wasn't great, we did go to the beach. Sis build drip-drop sand castles, while Bud played ball with Mama and Goo.

And I built a fairy house on the beach, with a little help collecting items (thanks, Goo) and shoveling sand (thanks, Bud).

Lastly, on our way home, literally a block from our house, we spotted a turtle trying to cross the busy street and rescued it from the road. We took it to "Goose Poop Park," henceforth to be called "Turtle Pond."

That's it in a nutshell. Or should I say a turtle shell?

Way Behind

Lots to tell, no time to tell it. Been out of the house since before 9. Plus all weekend.

Will catch you up eventually.

Mama's late tonight . . . maybe just long enough for a catch-up post!

Sleepover

Just a quick note that we'll be doing our big sleepover with Ma, Gong, and Goo for the three June birthdays this weekend so don't expect any/many posts from me until later.

When It Rains, It Pours

No, I'm not talking about the weather. I'm talking about a shower.

A bridal shower.

For me!

Thrown by my dear playgroup friends.

And so 15 years after Mama and I met, 12 years after we got together, 8 years after our domestic partnership, 4 years after the birth of the babies, 3.5 years after our civil union, and 6 months after our wedding, there's finally going to be a party!!

'Cept Mama is going to be the one at home with the kids. Which is just the way my shy bride/wife likes it, though she thinks it's all sweet.

It's kinda funny. As I blogged once, I did the majority of my wedding planning in a day. It sounds like my friends have already spent more time on this party! And, well, I've realized registering (which seems so awkward but I've had some fun thinking about it) could take longer too! I'm sure there will be updates here . . .

But for now, a big hug and thanks to my friends who are organizing and attending. Your friendships mean the world to me.

Adventures in Cooking Our CSA Share: Pick Up

We just got back from picking up our weekly box of produce--it was brimming to overflowing with leafy green vegetables, a whole head of lettuce of which rolled off into the parking lot. Plus three herb pots (I chose all basil. I like basil.).

But the most exciting thing about the pick up wasn't the vegetables (which I haven't even looked through yet, merely left them in their box on our porch, ready to be sorted later): we saw a doe in the woods near a stone wall as we drove to the farm. As it was a deserted rural road, I managed to stop, back up, and let the kids have a look without causing a traffic jam, or scaring away the deer. They were mesmerized. And so excited. Even now as I type this, they are playing we-saw-a-deer-from-the car in their beds, bringing their critters along and shouting out, "a deer! a deer!" (in a quirky combo of current obsessions, they are playing their "magic bongos" to make more deer appear). We called Mama immediately on the cell phone--such an urban family we are--and want to tell Gommie and Pop, Ma and Gong as soon as we can. And then all the way home, they looked for deer in the woods and wondered about the other creatures they might see in the misty, foggy, wet woods (rabbits, ducks, turkey, and an alligator). I can't imagine we will see a deer every Friday (or an alligator ever!), but it's great that they'll be looking!

The Diagonal Cut

Motherlode has a guest blogger today who gently and genuinely recalls his father's understated approach to parenting, such as when his father taught him the "diagonal cut" of lawnmoving.

Looking back at my childhood now from the vantage point of several decades, I can see that many of the important life lessons I learned from my father grew out of his passion for grasses. These life lessons weren’t transplanted as full-grown character traits, but rather they started as tiny seeds. Over a period of years — as my Dad spent time with me, as he shared his special interest and knowledge, and as he let me watch him live a genuine life — those tiny character seeds sprouted, took root and grew.

He continues:

Some parents do it while playing and coaching sports. Some do it while painting and remodeling houses. Others do it while fishing, cooking, or changing the oil in their car. Still others do it while involving their children in a family-run business or through active involvement in a church, synagogue, or mosque.

I think my teachable moments are in crafts and cooking and as we've started going to museums. What are yours?

The Other Three Rs

Reduce. Reuse. Recycle.

We went to the Children's Garbage Museum today, which is in danger of losing all of its funding and having to close its doors. Which would be too bad as it is a fantastic, amazing, but also cautionary place.

The giant Trash-O-Saurus meets you at the entrance, comprised of all sorts of objects reclaimed from the trash, including flip-flops, part of a small airplane, and an Oscar the Grouch toy. There's an I-Spy search with lots of different objects that kids can find (on different difficulty levels, good for all ages). There's a compost pile to crawl through and a mini-electricity-generating garbage burning facility to play with (ping pong balls are the trash and you roll them through the set-up).

But the best thing is the recycling center. Set above the processing plant of recyclables for 19 Connecticut towns and cities, an enclosed and air-conditioned (and smell-proof) walkway allows visitors to watch waste be dumped out by big trucks, pushed down holes and up conveyor belts, and sorted by hand by a roomful of employees (though, it was disturbing to see that all of them were women of color. And I can't embrace the notion that at least they have jobs, which they wouldn't if it were automated.). You'll never see your garbage and recycables the same way again.

And that was the cautionary part--pyramids of juice boxes a child would consume in a single year, a bag of plastic shopping bags the average family would collect in a year, the moutains and mountains of waste. And this is the recycling plant--just imagine the piles of garbage we can't recycle.

And another big waste would be closing this museum. Save Trash-o-saurus!

Savannah Fever: Warthogs and Wildebeests and and Zebras. Oh My!

The kids have a favorite new book, Graeme Base's Jungle Drums. We picked it up at the library's book sale mainly because there is an animal playing drums on the cover, one of Bud's favorite instruments. I recognized the author/illustrator's name and style from the book Animalia, which I've seen but haven't read much with the kids.

But we've read Jungle Drums a lot. Everyday, several times a day. It's about "the smallest warthog in Africa," teased by all the other animals, who receives magic drums that grant wishes from a wise wildebeest. Of course, as with all wish-granting objects, these don't always work the way you expect, and soon all the animals in the savannah are missing their trademark features--spots, stripes, plummage, etc--and then exchanged them with others. By the end, it all goes back to normal and everyone gets along, celebrating with the Grande Parade.

Well, not quite normal. Because as Base notes at the back of the book, none of the animals are the same as they were, exactly. And there's something else: hidden images of the wildebeest exist in the bushes, branches, clouds, and reflections, at least one on every illustrated spread. At first, I could only see the one in the moon, but together we've found all of them.

The kids love looking for the hidden wildebeest and proudly point to her image when they find it. "Oh, this is the tricky page," they'll say. Or, "it's the easy moon page." And the search leads to more existential questions--"is that the real wildebeest?" "how come she's made out of leaves?" "why is she magic?" We try to explain the author's conception of the sagacious, magical wildebeest overseeing and guiding the young warthog's search for acceptance gone awry, explaining how the wildebeest is magic, how we're seeing her spirit hiding in nature helping out. But that's just perhaps a little abstract.

Which is fine with me. We've read the story, we've found the hidden pictures, but we can grow with the message and meanings of the book for a long time to come.

The More Things Change . . .

Huge oval conference table.

Big conference room chairs.

Table tents with names.

Half-sandwiches and wraps with toothpicks on plastic trays.

Bottled water.

Trouble with the computer projector.

Trouble with the room temperature.

More absentee attendants than expected.

Handouts.

Introductions.

Powerpoint presentation with bullet points.

And a Venn diagram.

Objectives.

And goals.

Outcome.

Impact.

Evaluation.

Assessment.

Quantifiable.

Measurable.

Realistic.

Bloom's taxonomy.

Gardner's multiple intelligences.

Warm-up exercise.

Passion.

The future.

Community.

Multiculturalism.

Enrichment.

Break-out session.

Assignment.

Small group discussion.

Note taking.

Different understanding of assignment.

And program.

And language.

Jargon.

Informal learning.

Object-based education.

Learner-centered education.

Inquiry-based method for discussing works of art.

"What else do you see in that picture?"

Visual thinking strategies.

And Phil Yenawine.

Critical thinking.

Lifelong learners.

Curriculum.

"Repeat and validate."

Bathroom break.

Big cookies.

Coffee.

Group discussion.

Review notes.

Compare ideas.

NAEA.

Conference proposal.

Complaining about shortage of time.

And money.

And staff.

And lack of enthusiasm.

Meeting goes late.

. . . the more things stay the same.

More on George

On the words God, Immortality, and Duty:

"how inconceivable was the first, how unbelievable was the second, and yet how peremptory and absolute the third."--George Eliot

I never finished that biography I was reading on George Eliot, having hoped to read a few more of her novels before conquering a study of her life. But the Hungry Book Club is reading decidedly more modern novels (I read The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri this month but Mama hasn't had a chance. The book club will probably be on hiatus until Mama gets back from Thailand, the long flights of which will give her ample time to catch up!).

So I was excited to see a discussion on a new book about Eliot, Gertrude Himmelfarb's The Jewish Odyssey of George Eliot in a new website mentioned in the NYTimes today, Tablet, "a new read on Jewish Life." Eliot, of course, was an odd mixture of free and liberal ideas and staunchly conservative behavior, combined with a stunning intellect and keen mind. Himmelfarb notes, Eliot "was revered as a kind of sage, able to combine the most radical religious and social opinions with an absolute commitment to traditional virtues," when the philo-Semitic novel Daniel Deronda was published in 1876. Of course, I haven't read the novel, only seen part of a BBC adaptation, but know that the main character, who believes himself a Gentile, becomes enmeshed in the life of a Jewish woman he saves from her suicide attempt and eventually discovers that he himself is Jewish, having been given up by his Jewish mother who disdains her heritage. He then embraces it, marries the woman he saves, and moves to Palestine as part of the nationalist movement.

Considering the climate of anti-semitism in Victorian England (and oh, how much did I see of that while reading 50 years of Punch), Eliot's novel, following upon her masterpiece (the one I love) Middlemarch, discomfited Christian readers and encouraged Jewish ones. Himmelfarb apparently explores how Eliot comes to this point from her own more rigid Christian anti-semitism in her early life, through encounters and friendships with Jews. While I won't read the study, there being not enough time and an Eliot bio in line before it, I might put Daniel Deronda in line for my next Eliot read.

Wednesday

Today is a weird day in the Hungry household.  Mainly because I'm not going to be here--I'm working at the museum (working should be in quotes, because as you know I'm not getting paid.  Hmmm, is money the main criteria of work?  I need to think on that).  

Yep, I'll be at the museum almost all day, 12-5, attending an evaluation session of their programs run by an outside assessment firm.  I'm really excited because a). I've never been able to afford an outside eval when I headed up ed departments so I'd like to see how they do it; b). it's such a change from my usual routine that I forgot and not once but twice scheduled other activities for the kids and me today!;  c).  I can learn new strategies and techniques for program creation and implementation; and d). because I'm new to the museum I am in no way personally responsible for the programs they are evaluating which makes today interesting but not anxiety-ridden.

So, Mama is coming home for a long lunch break until the babysitter can get here after school.  I'm so fortunate that Mama supports my museum work, my intellectual and professional aspirations, and offered to do this for me.  (Of course, we're very fortunate that her job allows her that flexibility.)

Despite not being responsible for the program evaluations, I am a little stressful.  First, I don't have a professional thing to wear.  It's all hidden away somewhere in the back of the basement or closet.  And the shoes I'm supposed to wear before my orthotics are ready (being measured for those next week, finally)--my dirty white extremely supportive tennis shoes--don't and shouldn't go with anything.  And it's been a long time since I've dealt with colleagues in education--I'm rusty on talking the talk.  Which altogether means that today is an important way to ease me back into everything.  More tomorrow . . . 

Adventures in Cooking Our CSA Share: Kale

I was going to make White Bean and Kale soup but the beans just didn't cook.  I'd used the other half of the bag awhile back and they didn't cook either, but then I thought it was the overfilled crockpot.  Nope, just a bad bag of beans--7 hours on the stove did nothing to soften them.  So I had to think of something else to do with the kale, basically the last big bit of our CSA share from last week.

Coincidentally, my new cookbook, Greens Glorious Greens, arrived today, with 140 recipes for leafy green vegetables, from argula to watercress, with common and unheard of varieties in between (mizuna, anyone?).  And there was a recipe in the kale section for which I had all the ingredients on hand--Kale Celery Saute.  And so I did.  It was pretty good, too.  I liked the bite of the celery and red pepper with the chew of the tenderized greens.  And garlic and olive oil, salt and pepper make everything good.  Bud even ate the celery and red peppers (his new favorite), though he wouldn't eat "that green stuff."  Sis didn't even think about it.

I can't wait for next week's share--with more bok choi and lettuce, salad turnips (Hakurei), plus kohlrabi and garlic scapes, curly kale and escarole.  I think my new cookbook has some great idea for some of those.  I can't wait. More later!

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Kale Celery Saute

3/4 lb kale (about 6 cups chopped)

2 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil

2 celery stalks, cut in half lengthwise and thinly sliced on the diagonal (1 cup)

1 teaspoon minced fresh  garlic

1 hot red cherry pepper, seeded and cut into small dice, or 1/4 cup finely diced sweet red pepper

pinch of salt, or to taste

Wash kale and strip the leaves.  Discard stalks and coarsely chop kale.  Bring 2 cups water tot a boil in a 10-12" skillet that has a tight-fitting lid.  Add the kale and cook, covered, over high heat, stirring occasionally,  until tender, approximately 5 minutes.  Remove and drain.

Rinse out and dry the skillet, then use it to heat the oil over medium heat, lifting and tilting the pan to coat.  Add celery and saute for 3-4 minutes.

Stir in garlic and red pepper.  Cover and cook over medium heat for 2 minutes.  Stir in precooked kale and cook to heat through.  

Season to taste with salt and serve hot. 

Johnna Albi and Catherine Walthers, Greens Glorioous Greens!

Emotion Movers

Move over, Handy Manny, there's a new favorite show in our house: "Imagination Movers."

Focusing on four guys who are both a band and movers in an "idea tank" warehouse, this show finds them solving "idea emergencies" with song and silliness, and the help of their cheerful neighbor Nina (despite her boring Uncle Knit Knots). I really like the music, the kids like the silliness, and so we watch several episodes each rest time and listen to two of their CDs.

And so I looked them up on the internet. Turns out they were a regionally-popular kids' band in New Orleans, the only band, apparently, to be discovered at the Kids Tent at the N.O. Jazz Festival. They were in negotiations with Disney when Katrina hit and three of them lost their homes. But the deal was eventually made and I think they even film the show down there, which must be a boon to the local economy. Besides being musicians, the guys have (had?? I imagine they might be too busy now) regular jobs: one is a firefighter who cleaned up after the hurricane, another is a teacher, and another an architect (I think the last is "just" a musician). I'm really touched by their story and glad they've made it to the national stage, where we can watch them on the Disney channel everyday.

Better yet, my friends tell me they're going on tour soon!

Good Morning

It's 4 am and I'm wide awake.  I woke up before Sis did and then she called out to go to the potty.  I'm on monitor duty because Mama took a cold and flu pill; she feels all stuffy and needed to sleep.  But I can't.  It's been almost an hour.  And if I sit in the dark awake, at least tonight, I have dark thoughts.  Which do nothing to get me back to sleep.  I'm not sick or anything, just awake, thinking stressful thoughts about money, death, health, kids, tomorrow.  Nothing that is upsetting in the middle of the day, just a lot of hyperbolic, late night/early morning thoughts.  Which makes it sound like I can dismiss them; I can't.

So, I read the reader responses to Pico Iyer's essay about simple living.  It's the usual grab bag of responses to an essay that involves getting rid of belongings, moving to a totally different place, and staying far removed from "ordinary" life.  I don't know who Iyer (beyond that he wrote for Time for years and lives in Japan, but my battery is low so I'm not going to google him now) is but he wrote a book about the Dalai Lama so I'm wondering if he has Buddhist leanings.  Anyway, some readers see his simplicity as the perfect antidote to modern American consumerism, while others find it an example of privilege.  

I have gone through a period of being hard on myself that we don't live more of a simplified life of less stuff and fewer "have-tos" of the kind he describes (though, I'd keep the health insurance!).  I think, though, that that's just another way to beat myself up, some kind of American Puritannical guilt that I should always be striving to be "better."  I think simplification is a worthy goal but the self-flagellation is actually a mental habit in direct contradiction to simplification; it creates all sorts of extra baggage.  

I've mentioned here our attempts to downsize, if not in actual stuff, in the perceived need for stuff, and some weeks are better than others.  Seeing all of it out of our basement and in our living space while the basement is redone really brings home the problem. We're in a time of great upheaval, not just physically (which I really embrace--it's been years, maybe since we moved 7 years ago, since we've proactively organized our space and stuff), but a psychic reordering.  The kids are hitting almost four with an "I can do it by myself", not listening at all because they know better, even bossy and pushy (yep, physically too) vengeance (gosh, how do you spell that?  Not time to look).  I need to regroup, reground, remember how I like to parent, how I like to live.  

Just not at 3 am.  Or, well, it's now almost 4.  

And I thought I'd tidied this post up at least somewhat neatly when I recall an article that has really been on my mind, from UU World and is actually relevant to Iyer.  It talked about "stickers" vs. "boomers," oddly named sociological concepts (not sure if they're "real" academic concepts or words used to convey other concepts to the reader) describing American habits of either hunkering down in one community and making a life there or of uprooting (approximately ever 7 years) to a new locale for work, better climate, better education, family/friends.  The article declares that our habit of relocating, our dedication to "boomerism" is a main cause of several American problems, such as  lack of community involvement, even short-term thinking about the environment.  People aren't vested in where they live, don't try to make it better, get up and leave at the sign of trouble, don't have ties with neighbors and so no social network, even trash  literally and figuratively the environment because of a lack of ownership.  Now, I haven't fully explained the article, and a few pages in a magazine can't fully flesh out a sociological concept's complications, but I find it a compelling idea.  Especially because the schools in my area stink.  Teachers are being cut so that elementary school classes will rise to 28 kids each; letters to the editors in the paper call for only parents with kids to be taxed to pay for school so that the elderly and childless need not shoulder this "burden."  Instead of fighting this, trying to make it better, many of my friends--none of whose kids are even in the system yet--are either going to move from town completely or put their kids in private school where its "safe."  

Since we're not paying the Catholic Church to educate our kids in its erroneous doctrines (which always surprises my friends--not the erroneous part, which I never say outloud to Catholics, but the not-going-to-Catholic-school part.  Um.  We're lesbians.  Do you know what your religion teaches about us?  How do you think that would make my kids feel?), don't want to make the familial sacrifices to afford to pay for non-religious private school, and the market for selling the house is terrible, we're "stuck" in the public school system.  And I don't think this is bad.  I can become and active and involved parent, something every school wants, and try to make it better.  Which is a better lesson for my children than any of the above.  And it helps other children, not just my own, which is all about community.  I understand that "sacrificing" their education, especially at a time when education is touted as the golden ticket to survive economic downturn (ask my M.A. and Ph.D. friends how well they're managing that.  Or how well I'd be doing on the job market right now), seems like a travesty--I was told today that my ideals are nice but that my friends aren't going to sacrifice their kids' futures for such ideals.  And I say a child's future is more about lessons outside a classroom than in.  

Hmmmm.  There is a certain clarity, dare I say simplicity?, at 4 am.  And at least I've blogged it so that I can remember . . . 

I'm going back to bed.  Good night.

More Fairy Houses

Here is today's Fairy House village, constructed by Bud and Sis and several little playgroup friends, only one of whom had built fairy houses before (with us).  They all got into it and spent a good long time gathering materials and decorating structures.  There was a collapse, because Fairy Houses aren't permanent, and so the two houses below were built on the same spot with the same branches (the other two structures and the Solstice Tree didn't photograph well).

House #1

House #2

In THE Paper

Here's what's been on my mind this week:

• "My Brief Life as a Woman"--NYTimes writer Dana Jennings continues to explore issues surrounding his fight against aggressive prostate cancer. Here, he experiences the unsettling effects of testosterone suppression: he is like a menopausal woman. And he doesn't like it much at all.
• Sexless Marriages--I think the heart of the article mainly is that it doesn't matter how much sex you have as long as you and your partner are on the same page.
• Healthier Pizzas--with recipe. MMMMmmm, whole wheat pizza dough.
• Kids and Money--I'm trying to teach the kids lessons about money that I'm not sure I have yet learned: budgeting, saving, delayed gratification, doing more with less, simplifying. On Saturday, they each got $5 to spend during an outing (a little more than a dollar for each year they are old, since $4 seemed silly). And we promptly let them spend more, or, more specifically, confused the rules by paying for food and some games. It's going to take more practice.
• More on strawberries--I need these because we're going picking soon, though our own planted strawberry seeds were attacked by squirrels and probably won't grow.
• Photographs of tragic events. Can you picture bodies falling from the WTC? Or starving children in Ethiopia? Or victims at concentration camps of the Holocaust? An exhibition explores photographs of barbaric, grotesque events and our own complicity in those events as we become immune to them through their depiction.
• Movies about food. I loved Tampopo, Babette's Feast, and Eat, Drink, Man, Woman, to name a few. But I haven't wanted to see Super Size Me, Fast-Food Nation, or the new Food, Inc. I am completely in favor of food exposes, just like environmental ones (though I haven't seen An Inconvenient Truth. Yes, they've revoked my liberal credentials), but I just can't sit through a film and listen, for instance, to a woman describe the brutal death of her 2 year-old due to an E. Coli-tainted hamburger. But I won't be serving ground beef to the kids or taking them to the golden arches anytime soon.
• Pico Iyer's contemplation of the simpler life.
• The author writes about surviving his own murder and how it affects (and doesn't affect) him
• Ooooohhh, Bitten (but not Bittman) does chocolate cupcakes. From Maida Heatter.

Adventures in Cooking Our CSA Share: Bok Choi

Here is what Mama did with the bok choi yesterday. YUMMY!

(*asterisk denotes CSA ingredient)

2 heads bok choi*

1-14? oz box chicken stock

Maggi to taste (can use soy sauce in a pinch)

scallions* (mainly the roots)

garlic

Cut the bottom off the bok choi and clean in water well. Combine chicken stock, Maggi seasoning, scallions, and garlic in medium pot. Add bok choi. Simmer covered until bok choi is tender, approximately45-60 minutes. Remove bok choi from stock and cut into 1-2" pieces to serve. If desired, sprinkle a little soy sauce on it (or garlic oil).

Date Night

Dinner and a Broadway show. A pretty standard idea of date night for an American couple. Even if they're the first family of the United States. Yes, recently the Obamas, sans children, headed to NYC for dinner and a play. And the NYTimes lightheartedly explored the effects of the first couple's date on other married American couples, titled "If They Can Find Time for Date Night . . . "

Can you?

Um, well, we sorta had a date night on Friday. While friends of ours called to say they were drinking cocktails and watching a movie, we had baked scones and were sharing a cup of tea. To each her own. But really, these days, that's one of our favorite nights--no computers, no tv, no outings, just some fresh baked oatmeal scones (with marmalade and butter) and some tea. Sure, we'd love a show and dinner but are pretty much either too lazy or too cheap to schlepp to NYC to do that. Or even to one of the venues with shows here in CT.

Or even dinner out. Though, we did go out for Ethiopian food a few months ago on a date that was delightful. And are going out with said friends--I know, a double date, are you shocked?--this week. And it was easy to arrange. Our babysitter is usually available and the kids love her (of course, they go to bed so early that they never know we actually leave home!).

So, I'm thinking, I'm going to set date night as a monthly thing (have I said this before?). Too ambitious, expensive, and actually unnecessary on a weekly basis (given that we have every night together after the kids go to bed at 7 anyway), but kinda fun on a monthly basis. And I've written here (and here--and actually a few other posts describing actual date nights but you can search for those so I don't bore you with links) before about studies that show that date nights, especially, with new activities are great for couples (and I think it's mentioned here, too, in the article on sexless couples. Not that any of us thought that was relevant, right?) What say you, Mama? Shall I set up the First Thursday (hmmm, wonder where I got that idea??) of the month as our date night? Happy early birthday??!! You can even choose the first restaurant or activity.

Kids Say the Darnedest Things

Over at Motherlode, there is a post and comments on children (white, I believe) commenting and questioning the appearance of non-white strangers (hmmm, do non-white kids ever ask about white strangers? Or are they culturally ubiquitous in a way that others--the "other"--aren't? As far as I can tell, my bi-racial children haven't noticed or more specifically needed to ask about why their mommies are different colors. Hopefully, they just see all of our skin colors as part of a larger continuum.).

Of course, for a long time we've commented and congratulated our young children for noticing and questioning everything in their environment. But now they are going to notice more than birds and trees and cars and start asking questions about the variety of people around them--the woman in a wheelchair down the street, the African-American girl in their class, the person pushing the shopping cart of belongings at the bus stop. These answers aren't as easy as "it's a blue jay" or "yes, that's a pine tree."

Easy for them because it's just one more variation in the vastness of the world that is still so new to them. Not easy for us, that is, we who are aware of the racist, sexist, sizist, ableist, classist, etc, overtones that we and all the other adults in the vicinity read into such questions. But maybe we should try to answer the questions in as straightforward and factual a way as we would those about trees and cars, as several of the commentors both in and after the post noted.

I tried this approach on Saturday, when Bud loudly (to me) asked about the "dots on that woman's face." The woman was an African-American; the dots, I have learned, are flesh moles, or dark raised spots found almost exclusively on the cheeks of African-American women. My first thought was "oh, gosh, did she hear that?" She never broke stride, having been a few feet passed us when he asked. Whew. Then, we talked. I answered Bud's question as best I could, saying some people had spots or freckles or scars. And it was okay. BUT it wasn't usually nice to question or comment on other people's looks when they could hear you, though there was nothing wrong with asking.

Mixed message? Sure. Especially since kids hear about their appearance--how cute/tall/like their moms they are all the time, so why isn't it okay to comment? And because clearly I was anxious about discussing it, even though I said it was okay. And it made him uncomfortable, I think, like he was in trouble. And he wasn't in trouble for asking. But at least the next time we're out, I'll be more prepared, with a better answer. Once I figure it out.

Why Blog?

Mommy Goose (who has one of those abandonned blogs) pointed me towards an article in Sunday's paper that I had yet to see, "Blogs Falling in an Empty Forest." In general, it talks about the number of blogs that people start with high ambitions and eventually abandon due to failure to meet those ambitions. A book deal, financial independence, garnering a large audience to whom they can disseminate their ideas were frequently the goals of bloggers.

Truthfully, none of those are the reason I blog. I don't want a book deal. I don't even want to be a professional blog writer. Frankly, my skin is too thin to take much real criticism of my writing (which is why, really, I rarely even comment on other blogs, unless it's something supportive--I don't want to get flamed or into some kind of on-line disagreement about something). Since it's not my chosen profession, I don't feel this need to practice it as a craft or hone my skills--I don't proofread or spell check and rarely edit for coherence, content, or grammar (which is probably why I've dropped the blog on museum education, my chosen profession. Too much imagined pressure). Clearly, then, financial independence is not my goal. I won't be looking for advertisers or anything like that. This isn't a business venture. And I am not really interested in attracting a large audience for its own sake. Of course, I love comments but I'm not obsessed or depressed when there aren't any (which is good since I only get a few a week, with a few private emails too). And I'm not going to add any tricks or gimmicks or adjust my writing focus or content to attract extra people. I track the site with Google Analytics, but more just to see what keyword searches bring people here (the winners: Bertucci's rolls and Weight Watchers holiday recipes! Talk about being at opposite ends of the spectrum) and how often the site gets hits (about 1000 a month, but we think most of those are automatic hits by search engines. 'Cos, otherwise, it would kinda surprise (and even maybe unsettle) me that that many people that I don't know would read my stories. Which is totally why I attempt some kind of no-doubt flawed and failed anonymity. Flammable, aka Goo, you should know I didn't recognize your login for awhile and was nervous that you were commenting. I'm an idiot and eventually figured out it was you when you mentioned something that I hadn't blogged about. And Gorgon, I knew who you were but Mama didn't and was surprised to see comments. Really, what am I doing blogging publicly?? To my famous and professional blogging readers, how do you deal with that? But then, I guess, it is your job.)

This is not to say I'm against blogs that seek to do any of those things: I read professional bloggers and blogs of people who have book deals (Hi Lisa, if you still come by! Hi Karen, if you're reading today!)--and I hope it makes them financially independent. I love reading those blogs, have learned so much, and appreciate the immediate and intimate communication that a blog permits.

But I blog for three main reasons: to express myself creatively through writing as an intellectual outlet now that I'm no longer in school (mind you, I was in school until I was 33!) or actively working at my career; to communicate my thoughts, ideas, and experiences to loved ones and whoever else stops by; and to record and commemorate for posterity those ideas and experiences for myself and my kids. Sure, I could probably accomplish that in other, less public ways, but I like blogging (and not Twitter or Facebook, yet, which the article mentions as the next platform for several bloggers). Friends and family can stop by if, when, and how often they feel like it and keep up with what's going on with me here (some do, some don't. All good. I try not to assume that anyone has read this and am more often surprised when someone has). And if someone comes by and is glad to find those WW holiday recipes (or the lyrics to "Super Turkey," another popular search), that's great, because I glean quirky information from other blogs all the time.

So for now, I blog. Everyday, actually several times a day. But when it doesn't work for me, or heaven forbid, I start thinking of it as guilt-ridden like a failed diet or unfinished book, then I will stop. Until then, let's enjoy . . .

Division of Play

I have realized something over the last few days. The kids are very specific about what games they play with which parent, though we'll both read, cook, or play board or yard games with them. With me, they play dramatic or imaginary games, anything with lots of pretending or storytelling or a narrative. But with Mama, they play more constructivist (?) games--blocks, legos, anything that needs to be built, also the racetrack or car games and the train track or computer games. (Hmmmm, is this a butch-femme thing?) I think it is very clever that they've realized this because these are clearly the types of play that Mama and I enjoy (even excel at) respectively--the Hot Wheels/Matchbox (see, I don't even know which one) track thingy is my very least favorite toy and no doubt Mama would not really want to play "Mama Llama" or camp out over and over again. Perhaps they just subconsciously realized that we each will play longer and more enthusiastically at games we like and so they just know to initiate that kind of play with each of us. Because I'm not even sure it was conscious for me until this weekend. But it's okay with me.

Hoping for the Best

One of our little friends from church has been bitten by a deer tick carrying Lyme Disease and has had the characteristic bullseye rash and fever-like symptoms.  She's on a course of antibiotics so please keep her in your thoughts.  

 

Adventures in Cooking Our CSA Share: Greens, Greens, Greens

We picked up our big box of vegetables from "our" farm on Friday. The kids were very curious about the fields where the vegetables grow so we're arranging to take a tour of the farm (perhaps in July when Gommie visits, and more veggies are growing).

Our box contained baby spinach, kale, 2 heads lettuce, bok choi, Asian stir fry greens, mesclun mix, cucumber, and . . . well, we can't tell if they are turnips or radishes. They are small and white and radish-shaped but seem like young turnips. Just not sure. I'll let you know.

For lunch post-farm, I made a baby spinach saute with olive oil, salt, and garlic, plus traditional cucumber sandwiches (2 pieces of buttered white bread, thinly sliced cucumber, and a little kosher salt) and sliced turnip/radish. And only I ate any of it, despite the kids' promising that they would "eat everything from our farm." (Yep, I ate cucumber. And turnip/radish. Miracles never cease. I won't say I loved them but they are better than any I've had from a store.)

Well, it's a start, especially because they started to realize that food comes from a farm not the grocery store. So, even if they don't try a thing, they will have learned something valuable.

-=-=-=-=-

P.S. Mama Teacher, with whom I shared some of the produce because we are overrun, says they are radishes. For sure. Cool.

Good to Talk to You . . .

Aunt Banana. Sorry we had to cut it short with dinner, though. I hope we can do more of that now that you aren't in school (even though you'll be working more, of course).

And now that I know you check this blog (gulp) several times a day, I'll feel pressure to have something interesting to read! Maybe I should post-date the posts to spread them out across the day!!

Making Cake and Eating It Too

We had baked a cake earlier last week in my new Topsy-Turvy cake pan (see example above), my very first shaped cake pan. Sis had wanted to make something chocolate and I had some chocolate cake mix leftover from a set of vanilla and chocolate mixes I'd bought at the warehouse store when I was in cake class. So, with the new pan, we made a chocolate cake. Which was great practice for me because I'd never made a shaped cake before (and it worked perfectly, perhaps because I used shortening for the greasing not spray). And then we didn't eat it! Sis had a smidgen of the leftovers from when I leveled the cake and then ran off to play (typical, they never seem to eat much of what we eat; no complaints, since we can take it to church). I made chocolate buttercream and frosted and deocrated the cake with rainbow sprinkles (so imagine those pictures above all chocolate but with sprinkles on "top" of each "layer," i.e. where the white frosting is).

So, I froze the cake and we took it to church today. Remembering that they didn't even get a bite of the cookies we took last time before they were inhaled by fellow congregants, I cut them slices as soon as coffeehour started and saved them for when Sunday School let out (I couldn't bear another teary ride home empty-bellied). And this time they were much more interested in eating the cake, inhaling their own pieces. I'm sure we'll be making more cakes as the summer progresses . . . especially because I also now have a new cupcake pan and lots of ideas for decorating it!

-=-=-=-=-

Chocolate Buttercream

6 tablespoons butter, softened

6 tablespoons shortening

2 tablespoons milk

5-6 tablespoons cocoa (or more to taste)

3 cups powdered sugar

Cream butters in mixer. Add cocoa and milk until mixed. Add sugar in small batches to combine. Mix until smooth.

adapted from Wilton's chocolate buttercream for the American Celebration Cake

Fly Away Home

Saturday morning we released our butterflies. It was a beautiful, dry day, the first one in awhile. The first butterfly out of the tent stayed stuck to the plate with oranges so we let that one just hang out while we released the other ones. And most of them immediately took to the sky and darted around, including the one that Sis helped release. One did stay on my hand for a bit and then danced off. The butterfly on the orange was the last to leave. Apparently, they'll stay in the general vicinity for a few days but we haven't seen them since; too many beautiful flowering gardens to choose from, I imagine.

The kids weren't upset at all at their departure, more intrigued and excited. Mama and I were mainly relieved--relieved that the caterpillars did their thing and didn't get too hot in the little container, that the chyrsalids hadn't been disturbed by our constant checking and our cats' curiosity, that the butterflies "hatched" and ate the sugar water and fruit we left them, and that they were all able to fly away in the end. Success! We definitely do it again next year, with its great lessons about life cycles and transformation and fragility. Lessons for all of us.

 

More Concerns

Can you all, those of you among my readers who pray, meditate, light candles, chant, etc, please send supportive thoughts, direct your love and care to a little baby who has had a severe medical setback and in a dire condition?  She is a twin, the child of a friend of a friend.  And though I don't know her or her parents, my heart goes out to them.

Thinking of Her

A childhood friend of the family, just about my age and also "family," is in the ICU and struggling in her battle against non-Hodgkins Lymphoma.  Our thoughts and prayers go out to her, her partner, and her family.

Mommy Intuition

Sis is sick with a head cold and barky seal cough.  I thought she might be.  And I was right.  Though, that's no consolation.  And so we're already watching "Imagination Movers," our new favorite show, and thinking of cold sherbet for breakfast.

Let the Work Begin

The basement guys just arrived and are starting to renovate our basement (half of it, anyway) this morning.  We've talked about it for years, realized it was important (at least emotionally and psychologically) after the storm last year, and were excited about it as the kids got bigger and took up even more space!  It'll add about 25% to our occupiable space (basically it's half the area of our first floor).  And so, today is very exciting and we've been looking forward to it since we decided a few months ago to do it--except there isn't anything for us to do now that it's started, except wait approximately 2 weeks for it to be finished. Still, exciting.  

Mommy and Mama Plus Nine

2 women.

2 kids.

2 cats.

5 butterfiles.

Come to My Garden

It's fairy house season in our backyard again.  We started building fairy houses some time last spring (and here) and continued well into the fall (and here), though I can't find pictures of any of our magical creations (I'm pretty sure I took some but can't swear).  We actually had made our first fairy house of the season back in March, I believe, but it succumbed to spring clean up by the "mower guys."  But fairy houses aren't meant to be permanent, so we just start over.

Today's house has a lean to with fern roof and flower decorations (added creatively and proudly by Sis), a few flag poles in the back, a campfire with cotton-ball "fire," and a full garden of azaeleas, spiderwort flowers, and catmint blossoms.  Unlike the houses of last year, Bud and Sis (with the help of visiting friend D, who "planted" a Solstice tree--my term--and added decorations to the branches--he took it down before I got a picture) really took off on their own to gather materials and then added their own touches instead of handing me bits to put together.  Except for the balancing of the lean to structure, it really is their creation. 

Then, magically, in the mail this evening arrived three books I'd ordered awhile ago from the Fairy House Series:  Fairy Houses, by Tracy Kane, an illustrated tale of one girl's exploration of nature and fairy houses on an island off Maine (presumably; apparently, the tradition of fairy houses originated there), plus two books by the same authors (Kane and husband Barry) of actual fairy houses, Fairy Houses Everywhere and Fairy Houses and Beyond!  I was mesmerized by the  photos, which are amazing and inspiring feats of imagination and miniature architecture, though somewhat out of our league.  And Sis and Bud loved the storybook, having me read it twice at bedtime.  Fairy houses, flowers, and butterflies were their happy thoughts tonight.  

I noticed in the storybook that one of the "rules" of fairy house building is to use only natural materials--nothing artificial--but also nothing living, since fairies don't like to disturb or destoy nature.  Makes sense.  But our house today doesn't follow those specifications since we picked flowers and ferns from our yard (the first time we've done that for a fairy house, actually).   I'll see if I can explain that rule to them tomorrow.  They said they want to head back outside and keep building.

If you want to build your own fairy house or read more on the movement that has cropped up around the books (and apparently a movie), the Kanes have a website with photos.  We always choose a quiet, flat place under our pine tree, where the fairy house is out of the way and won't get stepped on but is also near many of our materials such as pinecones, pineneedles, and sticks.  I start the structure with materials that the kids pile up around me, usually a lean to with two forked sticks supporting a "crossbeam" upon which I lean the sticks for the side.  Sometimes we add a path, a campfire, a fence, a gate, a garden, even a swimming pool.   Once we had a few houses, one was a church and another a store, to go with the house.  It takes a village.  I've also made a teepee-shaped (for lack of a better term, though apparently it is more commonly spelled tipi, which I didn't know) fairy house.  And there was another basic format that I can't remember--I think it had four forked supports holding braces and a flat roof with one or more lean to sides (this is when I wish I'd taken more pictures).  We don't really have bark to work with so everything is made of twigs.  Then the kids help me build up the structure, add features, decorate.  This can go on for a long time and is the fun part of the project.

Well, that, and peaking out at the house morning, noon, and night to see if there have been any visitors!

Adventures in Cooking Our CSA Share: Week 1 List

Okay, the list is in for our first CSA share.  And it's a doozy:

• green star lettuce
• baby kale
• radishes
• salad turnips
• English greenhouse cucumbers
• scallions
• broccoli raab or baby spinach
• Asian greens mix of mix of kyona mizuna, hong vit (pink stem radish leaf), red komatsuna (dark maroon leaf), ho mi Z and green wave (spicy mustard greens) and corn mache.
  
• bok choi
• herb pots

Um, well, I've had lettuce and scallions and spinach and bok choi and probably most of the herbs.   Not big on cukes at all but will try one in front of the kids and hopefully pickle the rest--Bud will really like that.  Lambeth, any suggestions for those?  How do you make a proper English cucumber sandwich?  I've never made nor perhaps even eaten radishes or turnips or broccoli raab.  What in the world do you do with those?  Luckily, I have some cookbooks (okay, more than some, but most of them haven't been vegetable-oriented until recently) I can consult, and, well, another one on the way called Greens Glorious Greens which came highly recommended.  Otherwise, Mama has ideas for the greens, which can be sauteed, and the bok choi (bat chai, she says), of course.  Herb pots will be fun.  

I'll post how we eat our way through the box and what we all think, including recipes either successful or failed.  It's going to be a really interesting next few months.  

Muse On Over

I've decided to merge my museum ed blog, Muse On Art, with this one, in that I've imported all those posts and will occasionally write on similar topics here in the future.  Oddly, that blog has always made me a tad stressful.  And, truthfully, now that I'm volunteering/working in the field again, even just a few hours a week, I just don't need that as a separate blog anymore.  

A Star is Born

Actually, two.  Two Painted Lady butterflies emerged from their chrysalids in our butterfly garden tent today.  We've provided them with orange segments and napkins soaked in sugar water (1 cup water with 3 teaspoons sugar; extra refrigerated for later).  And have watched them walk along the netting walls of the tent.  It takes awhile for their wings to harden, apparently, so there hasn't been any flying yet.  But we'll be watching.

And watching the cats, who have thankfully slept the day through and do not know the butterflies are here.  We keep the tent in the basement landing for safety but have had it out a lot in the event that the other three butterflies emerge sometime today.  Nothing yet.  

Depending on when the others "hatch," we'll probably do the release this weekend with Mama.  And hopefully then we'll have some of our own pictures of them.

In the Papers (Or, well, "THE" Paper and One Radio Show)

Just catching up, a perpetual state

On Illness, Dying, and Death

• On the most religious people receiving the most aggressive end-of-life care, see here.
• On the benefits of hospice here.
• A blog pointing to an article on the end-of-life talk (yes, I did mention this earlier.)
• And have I ever mentioned one of the best articles I've read on dying?  Jane Gross on the death vigil in 2006.  I feel like there was a "to-do" list with the article but I can't find it.    Mama, can you?

On Parenting

• On a summer reading list of parental resources.  I would add my favorite, Momma Zen.  Note:  there are lots of interesting titles in the comments section.
• On the possible demise of helicopter parenting here (and the post about it too).  Haven't read it yet but really, really want to.  
• Does having daughters make you more liberal?  The post is about dads but my mom would say, yes, absolutely, having a daughter (especially a non-mainstream one like me, even early on, and because I was overweight), made her a feminist.  Imagine what my being a lesbian has done! 
• On gratitude and marriage here.  I don't think I thank Mama often enough (and not because I think I need to manipulate her into doing things but because I am grateful for all she does.  And manners are important even, or even especially, in a marriage).
• Thank goodness this isn't me and my mom.  Even if I haven't sent the present yet.

Miscellaneous

• On the Alexander technique for back pain.  Hmmm, must ask PT.  When I go back after my hiatus.  
• On judicial philosophies here.
• Yummy strawberries.
• Okay, so NPR isn't a paper, but I loved this piece on cooking with children because all other play can be boring by Nigella Lawson (one is audio, the other text). 

-=-=-=-=-

Okay, this is nuts, but I tried to finish this list months ago (or maybe just in April) and never did so I'm posting it as-is just because, if only to record somewhere what I was reading and thinking.  Good luck.

 

On Parenting:

• Laughter:  check out her blog  http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/04/10/laughter-as-a-parenting-tool/ and  http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com
• http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/04/09/raising-a-biracial-child/
  
• Slow Parenting  http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/04/08/what-is-slow-parenting/

Food and Recipes:

• http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/15/dining/15curi.html?ref=dining
  
• On flatbread:  http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/22/dining/22mini.html?ref=dining
• also article on sugar  http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/15/dining/15sweet.html?ref=dining
• http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/15/dining/15united.html?ref=dining
• bitten on stew  http://bitten.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/04/13/to-counteract-heavy-meals-vegetable-stew/
• the thrifty dinner blog http://bitten.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/05/21/saving-money-on-dinner/
• and parmesan cheese crackers  http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9E07E0D91730F937A35751C0A96F9C8B63&scp=2&sq=parmesan%20cheese%20crackers&st=cse

Miscellaneous:

• Frugal living  http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/11/business/economy/11cheap.html?scp=1&sq=frugal%20living&st=cse
• New top careers:  http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/12/weekinreview/12lohr.html?em
• community organizing
• http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/04/15/in-defense-of-crybabies/#more-3249
  
• Chinese names  http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/21/world/asia/21china.html?pagewanted=1&hp

Happy Birthday, Gommie!

We're celebrating your birthday is fine style with a trip to a museum, lunch out, and this delicious cake (which I am very proud to say I made at my last cake class today)!  We love you very much, even if we were remiss in sending a present on time.