In the Kitchen Today

It's been an at-home kind of weekend, mainly because we're reorganizing the house post-separation of bedrooms and pre-refinishing of floors in a week.  This includes distributing toys (and their shelves) in the basement to the relevant kid's room as well as putting aside toys for giveaway; we also sorted through all the books upstairs (again) and purged 100s of children's books which will go to Read to Grow CT.  It will also mean moving the futon to the basement.  Then and only then can the Junk Luggers take all the furniture off the first floor next Saturday!  Whew.

So while Mama was doing that with the kids, I made a breakfast of Miss B's (of PA) Oatmeal Scones.  Yum!  We especially like these with orange marmalade.  For lunch, for me, I tried to replicate Trader Joe's Balela Salad, the one with the chickpeas, black beans, and parsley; the results weren't exact but definitely good enough.

It's going to be hot all week, in the mid-90s, so I imagine there won't be too much oven/stove work going on.  Too bad the kids won't eat bean salads!

-=-=-=-=-=-

Miss B's Oatmeal Scones

1 ½ cups flour

1 ¼ cups quick cooking rolled oats

¼ cup sugar

1 tablespoon baking powder (slightly less than)

1 teaspoon cream of tartar (slightly less than)

½ teaspoon salt (slightly less than)

2/3 cup butter, melted (1 stick butter also works well)

1/3 cup milk                                    

1 egg, slightly beaten (Eggbeaters also work)

½ cup raisins (or other dried fruit)

            In large bowl, combine dry ingredients.  Add butter, milk, and egg, stirring until just moistened.  Shape into a ball, flatten into 8” circle, score into wedges.  Place on cookie sheet.  Bake at 425°F for 12-15 minutes.

Note:  we have also made chocolate chip scones, which are very good.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Balela Salad

2 (15 ounce) cans garbanzo beans, drained and rinsed
 2 (15 ounce) cans black beans, drained and rinsed
 1/2 cup (packed) chopped fresh parsley
 1/2 cup chopped onion

 1 clove garlic, minced
 1/4 cup olive oil
 3 tablespoons lemon juice
 5 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
 salt and ground black pepper to taste

In a salad bowl, lightly mix together the garbanzo beans, black beans, parsley, and onion.


Place the garlic, olive oil, lemon juice, and apple cider vinegar in a jar and shake vigorously until thoroughly combined. Pour the dressing over the salad, and toss to mix; sprinkle with salt and black pepper to serve.

adapted from AllRecipes.com (originally has 1 pint grape tomatoes and 1/2 cup mint chopped)

The Belfry is Clean

Remember our bats?

We have been visited at least three times.  The first time, our dearly beloved Morgan cat alerted us to the existence of the winged creature in our bedroom when he started running like a crazy cat all over the bed.  We turned on the light--a bat!  It was the middle of the night, but we managed to get someone in pest control on the phone to advise us to trap it in a cardboard box against a flat surface.  And brave Mama did (spiders, she won't do; bats, no problem.)  In truth, we were more worried that the cat would get it and get rabies or something, so we locked him out of the room--he desperately beat at the door, no doubt sure he was much better qualified to catch the thing.

The second bat visit was much the same, but I think Morgan was no longer with us by then.  Again, Mama trapped and released it.

The third bat was last year.  We never saw it, only I heard it flapping and saw a shadow of something overhead in the air conditioner return as I was walking to the bathroom around 10 pm one night.  Ugh.  We figured the first bat got in when we had the chimney fixed; the second when we re-roofed.  But we don't know how the third got in.

We had the bat excluders out soon after that to seal the attic.  Did you know a bat can squeeze anywhere the tip of a pencil will fit?  Just like a mouse.  They were very humane excluders--they have to be because there are laws protecting bats and their young.  No bats were harmed in the process, well, if you don't count becoming homeless.

And so we needed the attic cleaned once the bats were excluded, but with Mama's surgery and all, last summer turned out to be too overwhelming.  And so they attic cleaners came this week.  Apparently, there wasn't a lot of guano--there never was a colony in our attic, just a few random bats.  In fact, most of the mess was from the roofers who replaced our roof and left all their detritus in the rafters as well as the previous occupants who abandoned window screens, old doors, a couple of huge wooden ladders, and tons of planking up there.  So, the attic people cleaned it all up, sprayed anti-microbial stuff, and even replaced the very old insulation.  Now maybe our roof won't be the first on the block to lose its snow cover!  And I won't have to think I live under that bridge in Austin with the millions of bats.

There was one wonderful thing they found in the attic, but that's my next post.

Falling for a Plan

Continuing on a previous post about how quiet and clean the house is, I'm getting a good preview of what the school year will be like. And, while it's bittersweet now, with the end of summer fun, I'm also looking forward to fall and new experiences and the like.

As I've told you, I'm participating in the 30 Day Vegan Workshop hosted by Heather at Beauty That Moves. And because I'm not able to do a 100% vegan right now, I'm focusing on the self-care side of whole and natural living. I've been doing a self-refresh ritual around 3 pm, with brushing my teeth, combing my hair, rinsing my face, and washing my glasses. I've also started rearranging parts of our environment, keeping the useful and beautiful, redistributing the rest. To these ends, I'm reading a lot of the other participants' blogs and the recommended resources. And, as you know, once you get started, the web expands outwards leading you to all sorts of places.

Besides others' fun days of summer and their experiences setting up their kitchens for the workshop, I've read about a 30 day mom challenge, home management notebooks, the whole world of Pinterest, menu planning, Montessori approaches for home, and so much more. I've also found books, such as The Rhythm of Family by Amanda Soule, Simplicity Parenting by Kim John Payne, Feeding the Whole Family by Cynthia Lair, Organized Simplicity by Tsh Oxenreider, and Super Natural Cooking by Heidi Swanson. And so, I've got some organizational plans in the works to keep me on task so I don't spend whole days doing nothing all alone while the kids are in school. Which in turn will help me be a better mom and partner when everyone else gets home from their day, making all of our days better. Think of it as my professionalization of motherhood and housewifery (an extension, as it were, of my more philosophical or spiritual musings on those. I guess it's theory and practice?). I know, I've waxed poetic about these things before, probably on a semi-annual basis (see here and here and here and here)--yeah, I'm much better at thinking and writing about it than doing it (an avoidance mechanism, for sure)--but I'm finding practical tips and tools to do it. A daily planner, an organized budget, a compendium of important legal and medical paperwork, a yearly schedule of things not to miss, a binder of tried-and-true recipes, ideas for fun family activities.

Beyond cleaning the kitchen and clutter, paying the bills and planning our family calendar, and all the other household maintenance activities for which there are myriad checklists and such, this is what I really want to do everyday, by myself and with my family:

• Read something.
• Learn something
• Create something.
• Work on a work-in-progress.
• Clean something.
• Connect with someone.
• Be outdoors some.
• Meditate.
• Exercise.

And I know just where to look for help.

The Silent Piano

We had long used the piano, but not as a piano. It held family photos and knick-knacks. It functioned admirably as a fort when sheets were spread between it and the bench.

But we never played it. Even with books of sheet music on top.

And a silent piano is a sad burden.

Of course, we had grand intentions, when we got the piano for free, plus the cost of moving it, when the kids were about a year old. We wanted to bring live music into the house. I wanted to learn to play. Mama wanted to improve her playing. We wanted the kids to play. We had images of singalongs and lessons and recitals.

The piano was old. 1916. An American-made version of a German piano, I believe. It weighed more than any piano our movers had moved. At some point it had been painted white and green but was stripped and left unvarnished, with bits of white and green still visible in places. It was not in tune. The tuner who had tuned it for the previous tuner said it would be impossible to restore completely without huge expense. Still, it didn't sound off to me because I don't have much of an ear. And we figured it would be okay. It was our starter piano.

Except we never really started. Music came from our iPod or from our box of other musical instruments or from our voices. We tried a few times but couldn't interest the kids in playing. And Mama and I never found the time. Or had the inclination.

And so we realized it was time to let it go . . . so it could be used by someone, so we could have the space back. The kids were reluctant and spent a whole day enthralled by the inner-workings of the hammers hitting the strings, something we'd never shown them. We wavered. Maybe we had them hooked. Until we asked outright if they wanted to take lessons AND practice. Nope. Not at all. Not even a consideration.

Done. The piano left this morning, free to anyone who would have it moved. The kids were intrigued by seeing it wheeled out of the house and into the truck. I wasn't sad, which meant I felt it was the right decision. Mama was conflicted with regret, longing, hope; even though it was her idea, I think it's always going to make her a bit sad.

We moved a bookcase, sorted through some games and puzzles, shifted couches (no, I didn't). It looks different, sending the cats into a tizzy. Not right, not wrong. We'll get used to it. Eventually.

And it we have another longing for a piano, we can try again. Perhaps with a keyboard first. Until then, I'm glad that the old piano will sing again, even if it's for someone else.

Spring Tossing

Mama Hungry and I have been passing time some evenings watching shows on hoarding. In part, we're fascinated; in part, we're embarrassed by our participation in this exploitation of mental illness. Watching the show has us contemplating the complicated (and in these cases unhealthy) relationships between people and their things: the emotional connection to things as a replacement for love, companionship, childhood, pleasure, or to remember the past or a person; the endless cycle of purchasing and keeping, without much concern for need or the ability to store or use it (oh, all the unopened bags of things people bought and never looked at again); "1 is too many; 100 is not enough," or overbuying/collecting to create complete sets; purchasing or keeping something only delays whatever emotion someone is avoiding for a little while (so they have to keep buying more!); don't bring in more than you toss out; never choose stuff over people; people become desensitized to mess and clutter; discarding things evokes hard emotions of loss, waste, guilt, even disloyalty; saving things "in case" or even broken things, swearing they'll fix them; family situations seriously influence a person's relationship to things (either as a continuation or reaction to the family's habits). It really is both difficult and inspiring to watch these people struggle with, and often overcome, years' worth of hoarding habits.

Is it cliché to say we've been doing more cleaning because of the show? But we have. I went through my entire food magazine and clipped recipe collection and tossed the majority of it. While we're not hoarders, we are savers and not very dedicated to housework on top of it. And we recognize some of the feelings and habits in ourselves, though definitely muted and less emotional. Because we are always working to simplify our lives, the show helps confirm our interest in simplifying and clarify our society's unhealthy materialism (even in people who aren't hoarders). So, it felt very good to throw things out and give them away.

License to Kill

My aim is deadly.

It can be The Economist, Parenting: The School Years, or Smithsonian (but oh, never my food magazines). On the back door, on the windowsill, on the back of the chair, and once even in midair.

Yes, we have flies. I'm the Lady of the Flies.

It started with a dirty diaper, in a bag, in our trash can, which unbeknownst to us, stuck to the can and attracted maggots. Fast forward a bit (I know, gross, but we don't check the bottoms of the cans each week after pick up) and add in our old, ill-fitting, doesn't-quite-close basement window. Next thing we noticed, we had flies in the kitchen each evening. And I would kill them pretty fast, usually with only one swat. But it kept happening.

Where were they coming from? Turns out, they had amassed in our basement, probably because it was cooler than the wretched outside, then flew through the lattice in the basement door, up through the basement, to the bright lights and tempting smells of the kitchen. No wonder they were such easy targets, all that flying after being locked in the basement for days.

We've sealed up the window and are waiting for a replacement, but the flies do still come in ones and twos, hopefully the last of the horde, managing to fly past the sticky scrolls and bowls of vinegar, straight to the sticky-table buffet in our kitchen. We'll be calling pest control if the new window doesn't work. We're not above bombing the basement.

But, to be Pollyanna-ish about it, my aim is even better than when we started, we've become puritannical about keeping the kitchen sticky-mess free, and we've purged our magazine collection!

You've Got to Be Carefully Taught

To throw things away, that is.

My friend church Miss L mentioned it yesterday, that her daughter had chosen to give us a set of books and soon they would be purging both clothes and outdoor toys. Without a struggle? How?

"Because my husband is a hoarder," my friend answered, "I knew I had to teach the girls to throw things away."

Eureka.

I haven't taught the kids to give or throw things away at all. They're collecting used books for school and I asked our kids to look at our shelves of hundreds of books to choose a few to give away to kid without books and they couldn't find a one they wanted to part with. That's not good. And of course, there is the infamous kitchen playset giveaway from this Christmas. Our giveaway track record is abyssmal. When necessary, I ferret things out in the middle of the night or the equivalent. No wonder they don't like to put anything away, saying "I want to be able to see it!"--so Mommy can't get rid of it?! They're on to me. And it's not working!

I don't like doing it but hadn't seen another way. Looking back, I think it must be what my mom did--with the birthday party napkins I'd bring home, pamphlets and postcards I'd keep, all manner of stuff--only getting caught once when she threw away my old blankie. But I know I had lots of things that disappeared, never fully realizing where it all went until now. It's one way to do it and maybe the only lasting effect is my own minor hoarding habits (particularly of magazine articles and recipes).

As for Mama's habits, she doesn't throw much away at all and neither does her family. And there are benefits to this--the kids love playing with all the toys they've saved from Mama's childhood. And they always have what you might need or remember at that moment.

We don't have the space to save like that, with a lifetime of saved stuff already in our basement (slowly disappearing, I should add) and really do want to find a middle road for the kids. But having been raised by either secret tossers or hoarders, Mama and I don't have the skills for teaching the kids a life balance between saving and letting go. Though, we've gotten better, arranging to give away a beloved couch we've had for years, purging clothes I'd been saving for an eventual return to work that are just gathering dust and no longer "me," even considering selling Mama's beloved Civic in favor of something with 4-wheel drive. The will is there, sometimes, but the execution is a challenge.

And so, I realized yesterday that we all need to learn, to practice, that it's a skill like any other. Or a muscle that needs exercise to get stronger. I'm going to have to pick my friend's brain on how she gets the kids to get rid of stuff. She gave me a hint: bribe with promises of what you'll buy to replace what goes away since you'll be making space. Hmmm, that doesn't quite take the focus off of the material stuff but it might be a start.

So, spring cleaning, which is, obviously, never our favorite thing to do, will take on an added dimension this year, as we purge not only grime and dust but also some of the year's artwork and toys and magazine articles and clothes and knickknacks and gadgets and general odds-and-ends.

Green Isn't Always Clean

We use green cleaners, as I think I've mentioned, but I've realized something slowly over the last year or so: the house just isn't clean. The dishes never get as clean, the tub doesn't either. The toilets get dirtier faster. Basically, green cleaners just don't clean. I should add, as well as petroleoum-based toxic cleaners. No surprise there, really, since the toxic cleaners kill just about everything. Which is, of course, one of their problems. Now, sure, the green cleaners get things clean enough and, if I used them frequently, specifically more frequently than I would clean with other commercial cleaners (i.e. more than once a week), the house would probably be cleaner than it is. But I don't want to double my housework just because I want to be green. So, I have come to a cleaning compromise, of sorts, once a month, everything gets the poison; the rest of the month, it's the green stuff. And I was amazed at how shiny things became: the scum in my dishwasher disappeared (when vinegar rinses and citric acid hadn't helped), as did the stuff in my bathtub grout. Mama scrubbed all the green-not-so-clean pots and they shine again. It's not ideal but it's what I have if I want to be green and clean for now.

New Year's Cleaning

I have recently deleted close to 10,000 messages in my personal email inbox (in one of my accounts; I have several). I know, what was I doing with that many emails in my inbox? I'm terrible about cleaning it out. Let's say I get an email about an upcoming playgroup--I keep it so I can remember the information. But then other people reply about whether they are attending or not--I read those. And forget to delete them. And then I forget to delete the playgroup invitation after the event. I also get some newsletters from various magazines I subscribe to and I sometimes keep those "to read later," which of course never comes.

Of course, years ago, storing so much email was a problem because you were only allotted a certain amount of space. Such is not the case anymore. So, really, do I need to throw out any email? Mama calls it useless organizing, the kind of organizing you do that doesn't make you any more efficient and just takes time (say, if you suddenly decided to alphabetize your salad dressings or something). But it made me feel good, if only because I had proven to myself that I could throw so much away, even if it was mostly email I had never really intended to keep. And in the week since I've done it, I've kept under 25 emails in my inbox and tried to reply as soon as I get something. So, maybe I am more efficient, if only because I am more aware. Of course, I did keep a large chunk of old email--condolences on the death of our cat Morgan, congratulations on the babes and our various unions/marriages, anything from my mom, Lambeth, Mama, and a few other people. I'm holding onto some things. But I think it's time to move on to those other email accounts!

We've also been making a lot more progress on the basement, going down there a few nights a week to purge. Last week it was books. I think we purged two huge boxes of paperbacks, mainly mysteries from my grad school days (to be sold at the church book sale), plus a lot of paper (to be recycled). In the process, I came across several boxes of my academic and professional books. All the Victorian art tomes stayed in the basement for now, while the museum education books have come upstairs. Re-reading (and sometimes reading for the first time) these will help me on my museum ed blog, as well as help me feel more connected to my profession. I really enjoyed sorting through those books, kinda like revisiting old friends.

All of this coincided with Chinese New Year, which was coincidental but auspicious. It is considered important to clean house before the holiday. Ar-Ma even reminded us as we left her house on Saturday that we should go home and throw some things away. We'll just pretend that every week is the new year!

Snow Dishes, or Frugal Luxuries

Among the books I brought home from the library last week was Frugal Luxuries: Simple Pleasures to Enhance Your Life and Comfort Your Soul by Tracy McBride. I had been attracted to it by the words "frugal" as we try to decrease our monthly discretionary spending (yep, we're the consumers ruining the economy by cutting back our spending even though technically we don't have to yet, i.e. Mama is still employed, but we think we would be reckless not to), as well as "simple" because I'm inspired by but not quite a dedicated follower of the simple living movement and "soul" because I'm a good spiritual path-seeking UU.

I skimmed the book, which isn't quite a manifesto for simple living. McBride is very interested in stuff, just not new stuff; she likes old, used, recycled, reclaimed, and inexpensive stuff. Simple living, as I understand it, is usually a rejection of materialism, not a way to find stuff easily and cheaply. That said, I did like some of McBride's ideas, mainly the ones about adding art and beauty back into our lives with special touches. For her, this means a cut-glass pitcher of water with lemon slices on the table at every meal. I had to stop to think what it meant to me. I don't usually spend much time on pretty or special touches. "Pretty" and "special" tend to be breakable and I have not one but two little bull calves in my china shop. But as Mama and I go through the basement and discard things (which is why I'm not even going to link to Motherlode's article on the baseball cards; no sense giving Mama any more reasons for keeping stuff around!), I realize that I have lots of things that I have been saving. For a rainy day, for when the kids were older, for a special occasion. But with McBride in mind, I figured there was no time like the present.

So, when it snowed last time, I went downstairs and brought up a set of dishes from who knows where or whom that are decorated with wintery designs like snowflakes and ice skates. I served our traditional snow snack of hot chocolate and popcorn in the oversized mugs and dessert plates, explaining to Bud and Sis that these were our new "snow dishes." At the time, I wasn't sure they thought it was special to have a set of dishes just for snowy days, but today when it snowed Bud immediately requested the "snow dishes," even remembering who in the family got which wintery design. I guess the only downside to the success of McBride's suggestion is that now there will be less stuff to throw out of the basement!