We had our springtime playgroup party here today, a combination of St Patrick's Day and Easter. It was decidedly March-like outside, with cool temperatures and an alternately driving and drizzling rain. But with all the sugar inside, we were positively giddy.
Sugar cookies were our main form of entertainment and refreshment. I had begged and gratefully received another decorating lesson from our cake expert, T, who also does marvelous and adorable cookies. So, I prebaked a bunch with help from the kiddos, who still like the dough better than the finished cookie. We mixed up the dough on Monday and I baked the majority of them that night after they were in bed, saving just a bit of the dough to bake up on Tuesday, mainly because a). they are still newbies at cookie cutting and we are slow with little actual productivity b). we lose interest quickly, especially after making the dough, and c) T recommended that the cookies "age" 24 hours before frosting so I couldn't wait to bake the next day. But, what we did cut out--3 different kinds of bunnies, some eggs, some shamrocks, some flowers--were fun.
On Tuesday, T came over in the evening to teach me how to decorate. Is it frosting? Or is it icing? I'm not entirely sure of the difference. The recipe for the icing is below. I was amazed at her steady hand as she traced the outline of the various shapes (or even as she put the colors in the white icing--my hands are still colorful!). We waited awhile, talking and drinking cookies, and then "flooded" the outlines using spoons and toothpicks. This produced a smooth surface for decorating. We waited a bit longer--lots more talking, no more coffee, and by this point I was covered in green food coloring--and then started to do the detailing when the surface was slightly hardended. I wasn't as good at this part but it was fun to see the cookies "come to life." My hat's off to her--cookie decorating is hard work and she does it very well. I did have delusions of next year's Christmas cookies and could just see myself putting little multi-colored dot ornaments on gorgeously green trees; I'm sure I'll try. But I'm not sure if I like cookie or cake decorating better--cakes have a greater impact and a more cohesive design but cookies can be beautiful all on a plate and you can mix it up a little. I'll probably keep practicing both. We saved some of the cookies--I actually baked off half a batch while we waited for icing to harden--for the kids to decorate, too. Why should grown-ups have all the fun?
And then everyone showed up, in the rain, this morning. I had set out the undecorated cookies, along with white cake frosting in a can, and a myriad of sprinkles and jimmies in a muffin tin, along with cookie sheets to hold the spillover, and let the kids go to town. Mine actually started before the party did. It was killing them to see the sprinkles sitting safely on the counter. And since I guiltily remembered DD playing "party" the other day, the main purpose of which was to tell DS to "wait until the guests arrive. You can't eat yet!", I relented and let them decorate early. Isn't that the way of parties as a child, though? It always takes forever for them to start; holidays, too. My dear Aunt P says anticipation is the best part; I hear that my paternal Grandma agreed. I would say that anticipation is a dangerous thing--it's the worst part about something bad, a good part about something good (I'm not sure I'd agree that it's the best, but then I'm not good at waiting and don't like surprises much either.)
So before anyone arrived, there were thousands of colored sugar granules, jimmies (I never called them this as a child, only sprinkles. Are jimmies any color or just chocolate?), and other tiny little circles/bunny/egg shaped candies on my floor, in DD's hair, all over DS's sticky fingers, and an inch or so in height on two barely discernible cookies. Who cares! I'd rather remember them having fun and get to play along with them instead of making them wait and then miss their fun because I'm buzzing around as hostess. People think I'm nuts for doing this cookie decorating thing--Gommie thought so at Christmas, friends thought so on Groundhog's Day, and more today, I'm sure--but sprinkles sweep up nicely, cookies are fun to prep, anyone can play along, and it's not too expensive. And I like that the kids like to do it. Besides, it's a game and a party favor all in one (I actually forgot to pass out the favors--some playdough I'd been unable to take to the Valentine's playgroup and have been saving to distribute. So, friends, if you are reading this, come claim your little cans of playdough!).
But the party is over, the friends are all done, a few leftover cookies went well with my cuppa, and . . . my kids just walked into the kitchen butt-naked. I guess they're not resting while they watch Little Bear.
Too much sugar, you think?
-=-=-=-=
Punch Recipe
1 qt. pineapple juice
1qt oj
1.5 qt cranberry cocktail
2 liter gingerale
rainbow sherbet
blueberries (fresh or frozen, slightly thawed), optional
Mix. Beware, it stains.
NO FAIL SUGAR COOKIES--T loves and swears by this recipe. She usually cuts it in half. I made it all and froze half--the kids ate so much dough, we needed the whole batch for the party.
6 cups flour
3 tsp. baking powder
2 cups butter
2 cups sugar
2 eggs
2 tsp. vanilla extract or desired flavoring (I like
almond myself)
1 tsp. salt
Cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs and vanilla. Mix well. Mix dry ingredients and add a little at a time to butter mixture. Mix until flour is completely incorporated and the dough comes together.
Chill for 1 to 2 hours (or see Hint below)
Roll to desired thickness and cut into desired shapes. Bake on ungreased baking sheet at 350
degrees for 8 to 10 minutes or until just beginning to turn brown around the edges. This recipe
can make up to 5-dozen 3” cookies.
HINT: Rolling Out Dough Without the Mess – Rather than wait for your cookie dough to chill, take the freshly made dough and place a glob between two sheets of parchment paper. Roll it out to the desired thickness then place the dough and paper on a cookie sheet and pop it into the
refrigerator. Continue rolling out your dough between sheets of paper until you have used it all. By the time you are finished, the first batch will be completely chilled and ready to cut. Reroll leftover dough and repeat the process! An added bonus is that you are not adding any additional flour to your cookies.
**my note: this dough can be frozen in disks and thawed later.
http://kitchengifts.com/
T's Royal Icing
4 tablespoons merengue powder
1/2 cup water
1 teaspoon shortening (to make it soft and shiny, optional)
1 teaspoon lemon extract
5 cups powdered sugar
colos
Mix ingredients. Add water if too thick. It should be the consistency of glue. Separate into bowls. Add colors with toothpicks. Stir with little spatulas.
T outlines with a #3 tip and then floods the inside when the outline dries (to make flooding consistency, add more water--really just a few drops). You can use a bag with tip or a spoon to flood, and toothpicks or decorating brushes to spread it into the cracks.
She recommends the following schedule:
Day 1--baking
Day 2--icing
Day 4--packaging (too soon and the icing will be damaged)
Because of the icing, the cookies will stay fresh for about a week.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
It's a Gender Thing
DS kicked butt counting in Chinese today. He knew his numbers up to 5, could count them on his fingers by holding up the correct sign, traced the Chinese character for the number, and could count out 5 blocks after lining them up side to side. He loved the numbers part, having been relatively restless as we neared the end of class. He even jumped up to sing the "one little, two little, three little fingers" song ("yi ger, er ger, san ger, shao peng yao" etc). You could tell he really connected to it.
Not DD. She was busy playing with the stuffed "yu" and "lao hu" (fish and tiger), having the fish ride on the back of the tiger. And, while she did get the right numbers when pressed (because she watches "Ni Hao Kai Lan" too, or used to), she wasn't that intrigued.
At lunch, at that "evil" roadside restaurant in red and yellow colors, they had gender specific "not a crying" meals. He got a pirate; she, a crown. And they were happy. She even opened his nuggets for him and then his sweet and sour sauce, saying she wouldn't start eating until he had his.
Is it a gender thing?
She did, however, want to switch toys before the end of the meal. And so we left the restaurant with him wearing a crown and her carrying a pirate.
Not DD. She was busy playing with the stuffed "yu" and "lao hu" (fish and tiger), having the fish ride on the back of the tiger. And, while she did get the right numbers when pressed (because she watches "Ni Hao Kai Lan" too, or used to), she wasn't that intrigued.
At lunch, at that "evil" roadside restaurant in red and yellow colors, they had gender specific "not a crying" meals. He got a pirate; she, a crown. And they were happy. She even opened his nuggets for him and then his sweet and sour sauce, saying she wouldn't start eating until he had his.
Is it a gender thing?
She did, however, want to switch toys before the end of the meal. And so we left the restaurant with him wearing a crown and her carrying a pirate.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Wearing of the Green
Happy St. Patrick's Day!
We've been celebrating for a day now--we had corned beef, cabbage, carrots, and potatoes, plus a lovely brown bread from Family Fun magazine. We'll watch the NYC parade on tv here in about 30 minutes (we're watching now--DS is enthralled and keeps asking when he can see some bagpipes--I can't wait to take the kiddos to this--I just love parades--and there are lots of bagpipes. DD is in the kitchen eating brown bread with honey). And later this week, we're having friends over to decorate shamrock (and Easter egg) cookies.
But why?
We're not Irish--in fact, in addition to Chinese, we're English, French, German, and, depending which person in the family you ask, also Welsh and Scottish. Not Irish. Now, I know that genetically there is very little difference between all the Brits--there was an article recently about a DNA study--but there is culturally and historically a difference so we'll go with that.
We're not Catholic, though DP was raised Catholic (her parents wanted her to belong to the dominant religion in the country when they immigrated from Thailand--and had been members of a minority Chinese group there--and to go to Catholic school. Very Buddhist of them, I'd say, believing all religions to be on the same path). And my maternal grandmother was kicked out of the Catholic Church--at least locally, I'm not sure the Pope was involved--for divorcing and remarrying, despite the fact that apparently the man beat her and had to be run out of town by her brother (or something like that). So, Saint Patrick means little to us in a religious sense.
Even when I was growing up, the day meant little more than wearing green so you wouldn't get pinched, a tradition that must have been regional because few people up here know about it. One kid I went to school with--Derry--would wear green socks, get pinched because no one saw them, and pinch you back because he was wearing green. I thought that was clever, but I always wore my green loud and clear. There was no corned beef, no soda bread, and I didn't remember the local parade until my parents reminded me last night. But I'm not sure there were stepdancers or bagpipers.
I understand that it is only recently that the Irish, in Ireland, have started celebrating it in a big way, that it has predominantly been a religious holiday there. This would no doubt be an import from Irish ex-pats, who have been parading and partying in NYC for 247 years! Of course, the "wearing of the green" has a much different meaning in the land of the Troubles. And there is always some political content to the NYC parade, though not as much as there was 15 years ago when I first lived there. I invite Lambeth, whose wife is an Irish Protestant to weigh in on all of this, if he would like.
I started really celebrating when I lived in NYC, a block or so off the St. Patrick's Day parade route. Beginning in the early morning of parade day, you could hear the marching bands and bagpipers warming up in the side streets that fed the route. I must confess to being a lover of bagpipe music--I have a few CDs that I pull out this time of year--so watching them live was always a thrill. And then there were all the little ringlet-crowned girls in those lavish velvet green costumes dancing their up and down steps. This very much confused me at first--it seemed to be a big deal, but I had no idea what they were doing. Well, Riverdance and Lord of the Dance have come out since--and I've seen both (though I thought my friends were nuts for wanting to go see Irish folk dancing at Radio City the first time I heard about it)--and I have a better handle on it. DP, who grew up with Irish Catholic girls who took lessons, shutters to see the black shoes and curled hair--for years, she couldn't celebrate St. Patrick's Day with me happily, remembering years of grade school trauma as the only non-Irish, clearly Chinese kid in school. But she introduced me to corned beef and cabbage and Irish soda bread, which her mom made every year, and she likes Celtic music so things are better now. Neither one of us is a big drinker, so that aspect of the holiday doesn't appearl, though we do really like Ben and Jerry's new Black and Tan flavor and might go find a pint of that. Hey, it's a pint, right? I did live near an Irish pub--O'Lunney's, which has since moved out of Times Square but still in the area--and they had all the things a pub needs--blessings on the wall, pictures of County Whatever, Irish-accented bartenders and ownders--just what the Times mentions in its article (though, it wasn't one of the top pubs mentioned). And I liked to go there, NOT on the holiday, and have an Amaretto Sour, or, oddly, lunch because they had an awesome spinach salad and the staff were so nice. In fact, the only time I've gotten really, actually drunk, was at that pub, in grad school, with some ne'erdowell cohorts, who left me there to walk home at 2 a.m. through Times Square. Luckily, I was probably only buzzed and got home fine; but I was hurting in the morning. And should've been more nervous than I was (luckily for Disneyfication it was pretty safe, actually). I didn't go drinking with them again.
So, what's not to like about the Irish and St. Patrick's Day?
(I know, I know, they won't let the LGBT groups march and that should upset me, since public city funds are involved and the city doesn't discriminate, but it's their parade--and I don't want them at Pride--so live and let live. I'm not always politically correct).
And so, in the spirit of the day, two Irish (not UU) blessings for you, one for each twin . . .
May God give you...
For every storm, a rainbow,
For every tear, a smile,
For every care, a promise,
And a blessing in each trial.
For every problem life sends,
A faithful friend to share,
For every sigh, a sweet song,
And an answer for each prayer.
May love and laughter light your days,
and warm your heart and home.
May good and faithful friends be yours,
wherever you may roam.
May peace and plenty bless your world
with joy that long endures.
May all life's passing seasons
bring the best to you and yours!
-=-=-=-=-
Irish Brown Bread
2 ¼ cups whole wheat flour
2 ¼ cups all purpose flour
1 ½ cups rolled oats
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon sugar
2 ½ cups buttermilk
Heat the oven to 400F. Combine everything but the buttermilk in a large owl and stir the ingredients with your hands. Make a well in the mixture and pour in 1 ½ cups of the buttermilk.
Continue mixing with your hands, adding the remaining cup of buttermilk as you combine the ingredients. The resulting dough will be wet and very sticky.
Dust your hands with flour, shape the dough into a ball, and place it on a floured cookie sheet (we used a nonstick baking mat). With a knife, score a deep X in the top of the ball, widening it with the side of the blade as you cut.
Bake the bread until its golden brown, about 50 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack and let it cool for at least 10 minutes before slicing. Makes a crusty, dense loaf about 7” in diameter.
Family Fun
We've been celebrating for a day now--we had corned beef, cabbage, carrots, and potatoes, plus a lovely brown bread from Family Fun magazine. We'll watch the NYC parade on tv here in about 30 minutes (we're watching now--DS is enthralled and keeps asking when he can see some bagpipes--I can't wait to take the kiddos to this--I just love parades--and there are lots of bagpipes. DD is in the kitchen eating brown bread with honey). And later this week, we're having friends over to decorate shamrock (and Easter egg) cookies.
But why?
We're not Irish--in fact, in addition to Chinese, we're English, French, German, and, depending which person in the family you ask, also Welsh and Scottish. Not Irish. Now, I know that genetically there is very little difference between all the Brits--there was an article recently about a DNA study--but there is culturally and historically a difference so we'll go with that.
We're not Catholic, though DP was raised Catholic (her parents wanted her to belong to the dominant religion in the country when they immigrated from Thailand--and had been members of a minority Chinese group there--and to go to Catholic school. Very Buddhist of them, I'd say, believing all religions to be on the same path). And my maternal grandmother was kicked out of the Catholic Church--at least locally, I'm not sure the Pope was involved--for divorcing and remarrying, despite the fact that apparently the man beat her and had to be run out of town by her brother (or something like that). So, Saint Patrick means little to us in a religious sense.
Even when I was growing up, the day meant little more than wearing green so you wouldn't get pinched, a tradition that must have been regional because few people up here know about it. One kid I went to school with--Derry--would wear green socks, get pinched because no one saw them, and pinch you back because he was wearing green. I thought that was clever, but I always wore my green loud and clear. There was no corned beef, no soda bread, and I didn't remember the local parade until my parents reminded me last night. But I'm not sure there were stepdancers or bagpipers.
I understand that it is only recently that the Irish, in Ireland, have started celebrating it in a big way, that it has predominantly been a religious holiday there. This would no doubt be an import from Irish ex-pats, who have been parading and partying in NYC for 247 years! Of course, the "wearing of the green" has a much different meaning in the land of the Troubles. And there is always some political content to the NYC parade, though not as much as there was 15 years ago when I first lived there. I invite Lambeth, whose wife is an Irish Protestant to weigh in on all of this, if he would like.
I started really celebrating when I lived in NYC, a block or so off the St. Patrick's Day parade route. Beginning in the early morning of parade day, you could hear the marching bands and bagpipers warming up in the side streets that fed the route. I must confess to being a lover of bagpipe music--I have a few CDs that I pull out this time of year--so watching them live was always a thrill. And then there were all the little ringlet-crowned girls in those lavish velvet green costumes dancing their up and down steps. This very much confused me at first--it seemed to be a big deal, but I had no idea what they were doing. Well, Riverdance and Lord of the Dance have come out since--and I've seen both (though I thought my friends were nuts for wanting to go see Irish folk dancing at Radio City the first time I heard about it)--and I have a better handle on it. DP, who grew up with Irish Catholic girls who took lessons, shutters to see the black shoes and curled hair--for years, she couldn't celebrate St. Patrick's Day with me happily, remembering years of grade school trauma as the only non-Irish, clearly Chinese kid in school. But she introduced me to corned beef and cabbage and Irish soda bread, which her mom made every year, and she likes Celtic music so things are better now. Neither one of us is a big drinker, so that aspect of the holiday doesn't appearl, though we do really like Ben and Jerry's new Black and Tan flavor and might go find a pint of that. Hey, it's a pint, right? I did live near an Irish pub--O'Lunney's, which has since moved out of Times Square but still in the area--and they had all the things a pub needs--blessings on the wall, pictures of County Whatever, Irish-accented bartenders and ownders--just what the Times mentions in its article (though, it wasn't one of the top pubs mentioned). And I liked to go there, NOT on the holiday, and have an Amaretto Sour, or, oddly, lunch because they had an awesome spinach salad and the staff were so nice. In fact, the only time I've gotten really, actually drunk, was at that pub, in grad school, with some ne'erdowell cohorts, who left me there to walk home at 2 a.m. through Times Square. Luckily, I was probably only buzzed and got home fine; but I was hurting in the morning. And should've been more nervous than I was (luckily for Disneyfication it was pretty safe, actually). I didn't go drinking with them again.
So, what's not to like about the Irish and St. Patrick's Day?
(I know, I know, they won't let the LGBT groups march and that should upset me, since public city funds are involved and the city doesn't discriminate, but it's their parade--and I don't want them at Pride--so live and let live. I'm not always politically correct).
And so, in the spirit of the day, two Irish (not UU) blessings for you, one for each twin . . .
May God give you...
For every storm, a rainbow,
For every tear, a smile,
For every care, a promise,
And a blessing in each trial.
For every problem life sends,
A faithful friend to share,
For every sigh, a sweet song,
And an answer for each prayer.
May love and laughter light your days,
and warm your heart and home.
May good and faithful friends be yours,
wherever you may roam.
May peace and plenty bless your world
with joy that long endures.
May all life's passing seasons
bring the best to you and yours!
-=-=-=-=-
Irish Brown Bread
2 ¼ cups whole wheat flour
2 ¼ cups all purpose flour
1 ½ cups rolled oats
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon sugar
2 ½ cups buttermilk
Heat the oven to 400F. Combine everything but the buttermilk in a large owl and stir the ingredients with your hands. Make a well in the mixture and pour in 1 ½ cups of the buttermilk.
Continue mixing with your hands, adding the remaining cup of buttermilk as you combine the ingredients. The resulting dough will be wet and very sticky.
Dust your hands with flour, shape the dough into a ball, and place it on a floured cookie sheet (we used a nonstick baking mat). With a knife, score a deep X in the top of the ball, widening it with the side of the blade as you cut.
Bake the bread until its golden brown, about 50 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack and let it cool for at least 10 minutes before slicing. Makes a crusty, dense loaf about 7” in diameter.
Family Fun
Sunday, March 16, 2008
You've Come A Long Way, Baby!
Yesterday, we went out to lunch at a restaurant we should boycott for their previously homophobic employment policies (which are totally legal because there is no federal protection for sexuality in the U.S. The restaurant chain has recently changed the anti-gay policy), but we like the "home-cooking" and the little store in front is a great distraction for restless kiddos.
We were seated next to a family with baby twins, probably about 6 months; I'd guess fraternal twin boys. There they were with their two bucket carriers propped up in chairs. But the babes were both in arms, one with each parent. Each was actively shoving a rattle into his little toothless mouth. And before they began to eat, their parents spread plastic sticky placemats on the table. We had those, with Sesame Street characters--which at the time we couldn't identify because we a). didn't watch tv and b). didn't talk. I don't remember what the kids ate, though I saw bottles. By the time they were eating I was too distracted with my own kiddos. But I did lean over, having been caught staring for the umpteenth time, and say "It gets easier."
They said, "You're the first one to say that."
But it's true, sort of. The sheer physical challenge of twins--feeding at the same time, holding at the same time, anything at the same time--abates with age as they can do things for themselves. Then the, let's call them, discipline problems start. Because twins are always in each other's space and the fact that they can't developmentally think their way to sharing yet makes life difficult. So, you constantly deal with taking turns, physical aggression, waiting, and patience, and all the meltdowns that occur when they can't handle those things appropriately. When my toddlers attack, usually over some toy that one had and the other, who couldn't have cared less, decides he or she wants, my friends shake their heads and mutter, "I don't know how you do it." Well, most of them have babies right now (or hope to soon), so they're going to find out eventually (and they're seeing more of it during playdates and such). But having to deal with these issues is less stressful for me because at least we're learning life skills in the process; there was no real lesson being learned if one baby had to cry on the floor or in the swing while I held the other crying baby. It would break my heart. But, now, when one pushes the other, my heart doesn't break as I worry about future ramifications of such behavior (realizing meanwhile that it's age appropriate and not really an indication of future problems) and I know what to do--we do timeouts for any physical aggression--no warnings, instant "in the timeout spot." Any other transgression gets warnings and appropriate repercussions.
Anyway, so I told those twin parents that it gets easier--which is what dozens of twin parents told me when they'd see that double stroller. It always made me feel better to know that someone understood.
And so, I turned away from the babes in arms to my own kiddos, whom DP had taught the spoon trick to--the fact that you see yourself upside down in the bowl of a spoon. DS looked a bit and went right back to his cereal in book game (which we'd bought at the church booksale that morning--he liked to turn the page with the cereal still there and only later decided to eat the Os), but DD was fascinated and started making faces. Puckered lips, bared teeth, lopsided grin. She tried to put the spoon down to stretch out her mouth with both hands, so I held it so she could see. And then I flipped it over and she was right-side up. Wow. She couldn't get over that and kept flipping the spoon over and back and making these great funny faces.
Yeah, much easier than holding her on my lap. And much more fun.
We were seated next to a family with baby twins, probably about 6 months; I'd guess fraternal twin boys. There they were with their two bucket carriers propped up in chairs. But the babes were both in arms, one with each parent. Each was actively shoving a rattle into his little toothless mouth. And before they began to eat, their parents spread plastic sticky placemats on the table. We had those, with Sesame Street characters--which at the time we couldn't identify because we a). didn't watch tv and b). didn't talk. I don't remember what the kids ate, though I saw bottles. By the time they were eating I was too distracted with my own kiddos. But I did lean over, having been caught staring for the umpteenth time, and say "It gets easier."
They said, "You're the first one to say that."
But it's true, sort of. The sheer physical challenge of twins--feeding at the same time, holding at the same time, anything at the same time--abates with age as they can do things for themselves. Then the, let's call them, discipline problems start. Because twins are always in each other's space and the fact that they can't developmentally think their way to sharing yet makes life difficult. So, you constantly deal with taking turns, physical aggression, waiting, and patience, and all the meltdowns that occur when they can't handle those things appropriately. When my toddlers attack, usually over some toy that one had and the other, who couldn't have cared less, decides he or she wants, my friends shake their heads and mutter, "I don't know how you do it." Well, most of them have babies right now (or hope to soon), so they're going to find out eventually (and they're seeing more of it during playdates and such). But having to deal with these issues is less stressful for me because at least we're learning life skills in the process; there was no real lesson being learned if one baby had to cry on the floor or in the swing while I held the other crying baby. It would break my heart. But, now, when one pushes the other, my heart doesn't break as I worry about future ramifications of such behavior (realizing meanwhile that it's age appropriate and not really an indication of future problems) and I know what to do--we do timeouts for any physical aggression--no warnings, instant "in the timeout spot." Any other transgression gets warnings and appropriate repercussions.
Anyway, so I told those twin parents that it gets easier--which is what dozens of twin parents told me when they'd see that double stroller. It always made me feel better to know that someone understood.
And so, I turned away from the babes in arms to my own kiddos, whom DP had taught the spoon trick to--the fact that you see yourself upside down in the bowl of a spoon. DS looked a bit and went right back to his cereal in book game (which we'd bought at the church booksale that morning--he liked to turn the page with the cereal still there and only later decided to eat the Os), but DD was fascinated and started making faces. Puckered lips, bared teeth, lopsided grin. She tried to put the spoon down to stretch out her mouth with both hands, so I held it so she could see. And then I flipped it over and she was right-side up. Wow. She couldn't get over that and kept flipping the spoon over and back and making these great funny faces.
Yeah, much easier than holding her on my lap. And much more fun.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Date Night Tonight
We had date night tonight, which was a special treat. The kiddos were so excited when Dear Babysitter showed up around dinner and helped with bath. They were in bed before we left, thinking that DB was having a sleepover. Fine, less stress that way.
But tonight we deviated from our usual date night plans, which often include an errand and then dinner. Tonight, we skipped dinner, eating at home with the kiddos (meatballs, cheesey mashed potatoes, mixed greens, and biscuits). This saved a ton of money as well as calories (tomorrow is my WW meeting day and I'm trying really had on Core--for you civilians, that's a lot like Atkins/South Beach without the pork rinds!). We went to the bookstore instead. And it was fabulous.
In Chicago, we lived around the corner from a women's bookstore and loved going there on weekend nights to browse--not necessarily to buy, though we did a lot of that too, but to read titles, explore new topics, learn something unexpected. Tonight, we went to one of the big chains, not an independent store (of which there seem to be very few good ones here in CT), but browsed many of the same sections. Lesbian/Gay studies is always next to Women's Studies is next to African-American Studies, which are usually all right around the corner from New Age/Spirituality. We closely examined a book on American women in WWII, complete with wonderful pictures (Our Mother's War, I think) and laughed over the lesbian pregnancy books (glad that part is over!). I had wanted Kathryn Hughes's book on George Eliot but was curtly informed that literary biographies didn't sell and so they didn't stock it. This from a woman who spelled the author's name with two "L"s. Doesn't give you much hope for big chain bookstores, does it, especially when they sell bags and hang posters with a portrait of the author!
We had a chai in the little Starbucks and perused a book entitled The Prairie Girl's Guide to Life, with instructions on, for example, making your own rock candy or panning for gold. I love books like this (big surprise there, right?), and was also tempted to buy Back in the Day, on clearance, but wasn't as interested in Morse Code and heraldry. We spotted a book on beautiful English villages and grabbed it off the shelf immediately--such lovely pictures of half-timbered houses and thatched cottages. Like Lilliput Lane come to life. I'm convinced at least one of the villages was in Sense and Sensibility with Emma Thompson. So, we took that home too, to remember great trips and be inspired for another. We then moved on to music, listening to selections from Loreena McKennett's Alahambran concert. I'm not even sure we hit our more recent craft, cookbook, or mystery section favorites. But, despite promises to the contrary, we did wander into the children's section and picked up another Little Bear and Chicken Soup with Rice, one of DP's favorites.
It was this total geek love-in, with little talk of anyting but the titles we picked up. And that was a wonderful change.
But tonight we deviated from our usual date night plans, which often include an errand and then dinner. Tonight, we skipped dinner, eating at home with the kiddos (meatballs, cheesey mashed potatoes, mixed greens, and biscuits). This saved a ton of money as well as calories (tomorrow is my WW meeting day and I'm trying really had on Core--for you civilians, that's a lot like Atkins/South Beach without the pork rinds!). We went to the bookstore instead. And it was fabulous.
In Chicago, we lived around the corner from a women's bookstore and loved going there on weekend nights to browse--not necessarily to buy, though we did a lot of that too, but to read titles, explore new topics, learn something unexpected. Tonight, we went to one of the big chains, not an independent store (of which there seem to be very few good ones here in CT), but browsed many of the same sections. Lesbian/Gay studies is always next to Women's Studies is next to African-American Studies, which are usually all right around the corner from New Age/Spirituality. We closely examined a book on American women in WWII, complete with wonderful pictures (Our Mother's War, I think) and laughed over the lesbian pregnancy books (glad that part is over!). I had wanted Kathryn Hughes's book on George Eliot but was curtly informed that literary biographies didn't sell and so they didn't stock it. This from a woman who spelled the author's name with two "L"s. Doesn't give you much hope for big chain bookstores, does it, especially when they sell bags and hang posters with a portrait of the author!
We had a chai in the little Starbucks and perused a book entitled The Prairie Girl's Guide to Life, with instructions on, for example, making your own rock candy or panning for gold. I love books like this (big surprise there, right?), and was also tempted to buy Back in the Day, on clearance, but wasn't as interested in Morse Code and heraldry. We spotted a book on beautiful English villages and grabbed it off the shelf immediately--such lovely pictures of half-timbered houses and thatched cottages. Like Lilliput Lane come to life. I'm convinced at least one of the villages was in Sense and Sensibility with Emma Thompson. So, we took that home too, to remember great trips and be inspired for another. We then moved on to music, listening to selections from Loreena McKennett's Alahambran concert. I'm not even sure we hit our more recent craft, cookbook, or mystery section favorites. But, despite promises to the contrary, we did wander into the children's section and picked up another Little Bear and Chicken Soup with Rice, one of DP's favorites.
It was this total geek love-in, with little talk of anyting but the titles we picked up. And that was a wonderful change.
Mathematics of Sleep
So, the kids slept yesterday in the car for two hours. Wonderful, restorative.
And then they went to bed at their usual (new) time (after the time change, it's now 7:30-8 pm).
They usually sleep about 11 hours, meaning wakeup around 7 am.
But today it was 5 am.
They subtracted the two hour nap.
I didn't know they knew math; we can barely count past 15 (in order).
And then they went to bed at their usual (new) time (after the time change, it's now 7:30-8 pm).
They usually sleep about 11 hours, meaning wakeup around 7 am.
But today it was 5 am.
They subtracted the two hour nap.
I didn't know they knew math; we can barely count past 15 (in order).
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Journalling
I write in my journal every night and have for at least 4 years. It's not a private journal--DP and I used to do it together, deciding what to include from the day together while I acted as scribe but now I do it mostly on my own, with her reminding me of things to include. It's a record of the days events--important events in our lives like births, deaths, and first steps, and things we want to remember like funny episodes with the kids. It's a day book, so each day's entry is exactly one page. I first picked up the format while researching my dissertation and reading the journals of one of the directors of the National Gallery; I had also picked up a journal of an anonymous lady who liked to draw little pictures. I've drawn several little pictures over the years, mainly of cats in odd positions. If some researcher were to pick up my journals in centuries to come they would note several things: a). my handwriting is miserable and unintelligible at times; b). I rarely reference current events, despite trying to keep up with them, unless it's big--I noted hurricane Katrina, the death of Heath Ledger, and similar events (I wasn't keeping these journals around September 11, 2001, but did then create a journal about that to think through the event and my experiences of it--I was in the city, DP was downtown, and Goo her brother was there); c) that I am an art historian not an artist and that I can't draw; and d). that I'm not a reflective person, because the entries are more a record of events than my long thoughts on them--now I cross-reference my blog entries in my journal, as I do more thought-out writing here. I guess that shows the limitations of drawing inferences from journals.
Anyway, I'm going to start doing a bit of more intense journalling here in my blog. I had wanted to take a "Parents as Spiritual Guides" course at church but it was cancelled, so I'm going to work through the topics here, to "journal" in the way many people mean, i.e. reflective thinking on a specific topic. The first topic will be my definition of spirituality and what we want to convey to our children. I'm still mulling this over and am not ready to write yet. That, and I'm having computer trouble and can't blog for long at any given time because of a battery failure. My other topic for journalling here will be drawn from the pages of Wonder Time. In each issue, there is an "instant scrapbook" page that asks questions about the kiddos. I'm going to answer those here each month. I'm several months behind but I figure I can catch up. I love answering questions and always enjoy those emails that ask your favorites. I might even do one of those here.
But not right now because my battery warning is blinking . . . I'll need to remember to put that in my "real" journal tonight.
Anyway, I'm going to start doing a bit of more intense journalling here in my blog. I had wanted to take a "Parents as Spiritual Guides" course at church but it was cancelled, so I'm going to work through the topics here, to "journal" in the way many people mean, i.e. reflective thinking on a specific topic. The first topic will be my definition of spirituality and what we want to convey to our children. I'm still mulling this over and am not ready to write yet. That, and I'm having computer trouble and can't blog for long at any given time because of a battery failure. My other topic for journalling here will be drawn from the pages of Wonder Time. In each issue, there is an "instant scrapbook" page that asks questions about the kiddos. I'm going to answer those here each month. I'm several months behind but I figure I can catch up. I love answering questions and always enjoy those emails that ask your favorites. I might even do one of those here.
But not right now because my battery warning is blinking . . . I'll need to remember to put that in my "real" journal tonight.
The Museum Section
Today is museum day in the NYTimes. So, for the next several days--as long as it takes me to read the dozens of articles--I will be immersed in my old world. I'm sure you'll hear about it.
It's almost as good as sleeping under the whales.
-=-=-=
OMG, DP is a saint!! She just went out to the "Stop n Rob" at 11:00 pm so that I could have a paper copy of the Museum section and not have to read it online. I do so like reading the "real" Times every now and again. She's such a sweetie. Thanks, DP!
It's almost as good as sleeping under the whales.
-=-=-=
OMG, DP is a saint!! She just went out to the "Stop n Rob" at 11:00 pm so that I could have a paper copy of the Museum section and not have to read it online. I do so like reading the "real" Times every now and again. She's such a sweetie. Thanks, DP!
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
I Know the Drugs are Working
. . . . because my back feels better.
And yesterday I made coffee in my fancy machine but forgot to put the cup under the spout. Thereby getting coffee everywhere.
Definitely spaced out but feeling good.
Definitely needed that coffee.
And yesterday I made coffee in my fancy machine but forgot to put the cup under the spout. Thereby getting coffee everywhere.
Definitely spaced out but feeling good.
Definitely needed that coffee.
In the Sandbox
On Sunday, it was warm enough to play outside in the backyard unencumbered by coats and the like. And so we opened up the turtle sandbox and DD and DS had field day playing in it. I sat back and watched (DP was raking up a season's worth of dead branches and detritis) while DD made numerous birthday cakes and DS built a pyramid with a fortified top. I saw in an instance my next six months--long hours outside while they self-entertained in a way that was unimaginable just a year ago when they only liked the sandbox if you would hide things in it for them. But in a year, my presence is almost passe. Almost. I'm still needed to blow out the stick candles on the cakes and help start the sand pyramid.
On Monday, at 8 a.m., it was nowhere near warm enough, at 25F, to go outside to play. But DD awoke calling for the sandbox and so we bundled up and went out for what I thought would be a short look around. I forget that toddlers don't notice temperatures--they played in the chilly wind for almost an hour, wiping their runny noses until a sandy snot layer formed. But who was I to interrupt such joy?
At least today, after our Chinese class, it was warm enough to play outside without fingers going numb. And so again, we headed to the sandbox for cakes and forts. I love watching them play. I'm learning more about aspects of play--the self-talk that helps them regulate their behavior, the "other regulation" that allows them to experience controlling others (all that bossiness has a real purpose), the obsession with self-imposed rules (first the candles, then the song, then blow out the candles, then eat it, and start again)--and can see all of them in the way they play. DD narrates the baking of her cakes, brings them to me to perform the exact birthday ritual, and then starts again. Sometimes she lets DS have a turn. DS talks to himself as he fetches pinecones for people and sticks for fences and regulates where each one goes (pinecones go inside the circle of sticks). And they're having so much fun.
It's going to be a great summer.
On Monday, at 8 a.m., it was nowhere near warm enough, at 25F, to go outside to play. But DD awoke calling for the sandbox and so we bundled up and went out for what I thought would be a short look around. I forget that toddlers don't notice temperatures--they played in the chilly wind for almost an hour, wiping their runny noses until a sandy snot layer formed. But who was I to interrupt such joy?
At least today, after our Chinese class, it was warm enough to play outside without fingers going numb. And so again, we headed to the sandbox for cakes and forts. I love watching them play. I'm learning more about aspects of play--the self-talk that helps them regulate their behavior, the "other regulation" that allows them to experience controlling others (all that bossiness has a real purpose), the obsession with self-imposed rules (first the candles, then the song, then blow out the candles, then eat it, and start again)--and can see all of them in the way they play. DD narrates the baking of her cakes, brings them to me to perform the exact birthday ritual, and then starts again. Sometimes she lets DS have a turn. DS talks to himself as he fetches pinecones for people and sticks for fences and regulates where each one goes (pinecones go inside the circle of sticks). And they're having so much fun.
It's going to be a great summer.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Can't Sneeze at This
So, I went to the doctor at the local clinic yesterday because my back just wouldn't stop spasming. Got some muscle relaxers and pain killers and am much better today. It was nice to have a second opinion, especially since my first doctor barely gave one. Orthotics--yes. Orthopedist--no. Keep doing my exercises, everyday for the rest of my life, to decrease likelihood of injury, damage by any injury that I will (and it's just a matter of time not possibility), and hurry along any recover. She thinks the PT I've been doing for 6 months saved my skin this time or I'd be flat on my back. She did suggest a hip x-ray for a baseline, thinking it is possible that I have some childhood disorder--hip dysplasia or the like--which might cause arthiritis later on (for those just joining me, I've limped all my life but only just found out why). And she thinks my new lift in my shoe, which I got Wednesday, while totally necessary is what is making me especially fragile, as my body learns a new way to walk after 35 some odd years.
And here's a neat trick: if you have back trouble and need to sneeze (or cough, though I haven't tried that yet), tilt your head back and try to brace yourself, arching your back a little if you can. Your back won't spasm. And you won't believe this but it totally works. I've sneezed 3 times with no trouble (though sneezing caused lots of trouble last weekend).
And here's a neat trick: if you have back trouble and need to sneeze (or cough, though I haven't tried that yet), tilt your head back and try to brace yourself, arching your back a little if you can. Your back won't spasm. And you won't believe this but it totally works. I've sneezed 3 times with no trouble (though sneezing caused lots of trouble last weekend).
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Candle of Community
We're lighting a virtual candle of community tonight, for my sister's fiance's father, who passed away this evening.
Huzzah
I've been going to Renaissance Festivals since my mom took us to the one in Texas just a year or so after it opened. And I've loved them ever since: the crafts, the food, the costumes, the music, the ambience. I would go with Mom and sis, wear a flowered garland (oh, I loved these and have several and have made several), each scotch eggs and turkey legs, watch jousting on horseback, listen to madrigals, gawk at the lavish costumes (and not-so-lavish bawdy ones), and in general have a fine time. At the point, Real Musgrave was the official artist of the Texas Ren Fest and would sit in his booth signing posters of dragons. I have a few of these; I loved his art. At one point, we even went to a show of his and I remember this amazing print of a knight and lady on a unicorn or winged horse flying near the moon, I think; it was too expensive to buy--I got another signed poster instead--but it encapsulated what I loved about the ren faires.
In college, I joined our chapter of SCA but never really got too involved. It was definitely a boy-thing where I went to school--sparring and RPG (role-playing games like D&D)--and not craft-oriented. I did have "garb," the word for a costume, and wore it to gatherings and our trip to the ren fest. But I never got more involved and now, I think it would be too strict for my more casual, touristic interest in ren faires. For that is what it is, surely, like going on vacation in a foreign time and watching the "natives." Mind you, for the most part, ren faires are completely anachronistic, designed for the tourist, unlike real SCA events (there is usually an SCA presence at some fests, but they don't organize the big ones--I've been to Texas, Bristol in WI, Sterling Forest in NY, and the two in CT). And that's ok with me. I like the weird blend of "Master Card and Lady Visa" with turkey legs and diet Coke, Henry VIII and fairies and Merlin, garlands and face painting, jousting and raunchy jokes. I even have a great costume--an elaborate affair with shift, underskirt, overskirt, and bodice, in mauve and teal. DP has an incredible cloak and a hat. We're quite the pair.
(It won't surprise you that we also like Civil War reenactiments and living history museums. But those don't really invite visitors to participate in the same way--indeed, the interpreters do it for their own fun and are often indifferent and sometimes downright hostile to outsiders. Now, if they did have a Civil War fair, so to speak, I'd be the first in line to dress up and play lady for a day. I hear you can do that at Williambsurg, for the Colonial times, and I can't wait to go).
And we can't wait for the kids to enjoy it. We've taken them to the little ones in CT, but they were so young. DS liked the music. DD was scared to death of one of the creatures with wings (some fairy/goblin guy). They both liked being outside as long as it wasn't too hot. They'll love it this summer. And when they're still older we'll make the haul to NY's faire and later even, the one in Texas. My deart Aunt P after whom DD is named is quite the ren faire devotee--she goes every year and camps out for a weekend and then hangs out listening to sea shanties and old tunes while imbibing the local brew; I would wander around, meeting her back at the pub and then wandering out again. The kids will love it. And then, we'll graduate to the real Renaissance and head across the pond for a "dragons and dungeons" tours of real medieval castles and sites. I wonder, are Ren Faires popular where there was actually a Middle Ages? (Mind you, there is no real concern about the actual differentiation of the Renaissance and the Middle Ages, both of which terms are problematic academically. As an historian, that bothers me not at all; this is recreation not scholarship. My beloved Victorians were constantly viewing other cultures and periods through their own lenses--just look at the art of Lawrence Alma-Tadema; it's charming and very revealing, both the art and the historical-cultural appropriation. And before I get in trouble for calling cultural appropriation "charming," I know all the scholarly buzzwords and reasonings for why it is racist, elitist, Eurocentric etc. It doesn't bother me at the Ren Faire or in the art of Alma-Tadema. It's intellectually intriguing. Go read Confederates in the Attic).
Why bring this up now, when ren faire season is still months away? We had a renaissance banquet at my church last night--very "Medieval Times" (the dinner theater in tourist towns), with roast chicken and potatoes with no cutlery, as well as lots of cleavage, roguish jokes, and swordplay. Being with friends used to ren faires made the evening delightful.
And so, I'm getting ready, mentally, for the next event. It's not too soon to make flowered garlands.
In college, I joined our chapter of SCA but never really got too involved. It was definitely a boy-thing where I went to school--sparring and RPG (role-playing games like D&D)--and not craft-oriented. I did have "garb," the word for a costume, and wore it to gatherings and our trip to the ren fest. But I never got more involved and now, I think it would be too strict for my more casual, touristic interest in ren faires. For that is what it is, surely, like going on vacation in a foreign time and watching the "natives." Mind you, for the most part, ren faires are completely anachronistic, designed for the tourist, unlike real SCA events (there is usually an SCA presence at some fests, but they don't organize the big ones--I've been to Texas, Bristol in WI, Sterling Forest in NY, and the two in CT). And that's ok with me. I like the weird blend of "Master Card and Lady Visa" with turkey legs and diet Coke, Henry VIII and fairies and Merlin, garlands and face painting, jousting and raunchy jokes. I even have a great costume--an elaborate affair with shift, underskirt, overskirt, and bodice, in mauve and teal. DP has an incredible cloak and a hat. We're quite the pair.
(It won't surprise you that we also like Civil War reenactiments and living history museums. But those don't really invite visitors to participate in the same way--indeed, the interpreters do it for their own fun and are often indifferent and sometimes downright hostile to outsiders. Now, if they did have a Civil War fair, so to speak, I'd be the first in line to dress up and play lady for a day. I hear you can do that at Williambsurg, for the Colonial times, and I can't wait to go).
And we can't wait for the kids to enjoy it. We've taken them to the little ones in CT, but they were so young. DS liked the music. DD was scared to death of one of the creatures with wings (some fairy/goblin guy). They both liked being outside as long as it wasn't too hot. They'll love it this summer. And when they're still older we'll make the haul to NY's faire and later even, the one in Texas. My deart Aunt P after whom DD is named is quite the ren faire devotee--she goes every year and camps out for a weekend and then hangs out listening to sea shanties and old tunes while imbibing the local brew; I would wander around, meeting her back at the pub and then wandering out again. The kids will love it. And then, we'll graduate to the real Renaissance and head across the pond for a "dragons and dungeons" tours of real medieval castles and sites. I wonder, are Ren Faires popular where there was actually a Middle Ages? (Mind you, there is no real concern about the actual differentiation of the Renaissance and the Middle Ages, both of which terms are problematic academically. As an historian, that bothers me not at all; this is recreation not scholarship. My beloved Victorians were constantly viewing other cultures and periods through their own lenses--just look at the art of Lawrence Alma-Tadema; it's charming and very revealing, both the art and the historical-cultural appropriation. And before I get in trouble for calling cultural appropriation "charming," I know all the scholarly buzzwords and reasonings for why it is racist, elitist, Eurocentric etc. It doesn't bother me at the Ren Faire or in the art of Alma-Tadema. It's intellectually intriguing. Go read Confederates in the Attic).
Why bring this up now, when ren faire season is still months away? We had a renaissance banquet at my church last night--very "Medieval Times" (the dinner theater in tourist towns), with roast chicken and potatoes with no cutlery, as well as lots of cleavage, roguish jokes, and swordplay. Being with friends used to ren faires made the evening delightful.
And so, I'm getting ready, mentally, for the next event. It's not too soon to make flowered garlands.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Thinking of You
Our love goes out to my sis and her fiance, whose father is struggling with lung cancer.
We're thinking of you and your family!
We're thinking of you and your family!
Friday, March 7, 2008
Eostara
Bunnies are everywhere in the stores and I'm starting to think about Easter.
As a child, we created Easter nests out of pulled grass and local wildflowers (including my favorite the pink "buttercup" or primrose and azaleas). We dyed eggs and left these outside for the Bunny, along with carrots (right? we fed the bunny? I hope so.). I liked the oil dyes more than any shrink wraps or wax crayons. The Easter Bunny, though, provided the prettiest eggs (I'm told by my mom that the kit the bunny used isn't available anymore). The next morning we had gifts in our nests--nothing big--my two favorites were a Princess Leia folder (which I honestly still have) and a pink flower (maybe a geranium--this led to my "knowing," for I had seen it in the garage earlier that week. But I wasn't traumatized and I'm not sure I made the leap to Santa). There were sometimes peeps, chocolate-covered marshmallows (often in a carton, from my great-grandmother M), chocolate bunnies, jelly beans (before Jelly Bellys, and thus not very good). And my favorite, a sugar peep egg--you know the ones, with the little scenes inside. I LOVE these. I would never eat them but keep them for weeks.
Then we'd look for eggs. Now, my sister, reading this blog, will immediately state that I cheated. I did not. I never took eggs out of my sister's basket. But I did have distinct advantages: I was taller and could see around better, I remembered hiding places from previous years (edge of the swingset, certain gutters), and I was old enough to be suspicious of pots and buckets oddly and unexpectedly upside down in the middle of the yard. I should add, and not to my credit, that I was also not sisterly or sentimental, but quick and competitive, so I didn't "let" her find more. This is probably where the cheating accusation arises. And I admit to being guilty of being greedy and ungenerous. I'm sure she'll weigh in because the Easter Egg hunt and the ownership of certain Christmas ornaments are two arguments we never settle (and probably shouldn't bring up!).
There would be breakfast and much later a traditional ham lunch (though the sides varied and I can't really recall what they were). Always, always we'd find some eggs later, or the cats would. Our parents never remembered where or how many the Easter Bunny hid such things. Oh, and in addition to dyed eggs (which we almost never ate, it being too warm overnight in Houston to guarantee food safety, I guess), there were plastic eggs with money, quarters and dollars.
So, now it's my turn to create Easter. And I'm giving it a lot of thought this year because they are starting to remember rituals and traditions. Because I now live in the colder northeast, where there is not green grass or local wildflowers for nests, and where it is entirely possible that it will not be comfortable enough outside to look for eggs easily, we have to change a few things. Unlike Texas, which is already in full spring, there is little evidence of spring here. But that in itself is exciting.
I've been reading up on Eostara and Spring Equinox (especially in Circle Round by Starhawk and others) for some other ideas to add to our celebrations of Easter and our welcoming of spring, which we are honoring (not the death of Christ, which has no real meaning and holds no interest for me. I can't embrace a religion which so focuses on the love of a mother at Christmas and then cruel death of her child at Easter. Besides, I don't believe in God as such.) Wiccan, or neo-Pagan, renditions and reworkings of ancient and traditional holidays appeal to me because of their embrace of the natural world, interest in the circle and cycles of life, and use of Goddess-and spirit-language as metaphor for the mysterious and unknowable universe around us, as well as their rejection of commercialism and materialism.
In the week leading up to Easter, we'll decorate the windows with drawings and cut-outs of eggs, bunnies, and flowers. We might also plant some seeds in little cups. I particularly like the use of seeds for the holiday. I think we will sprinkle seeds around the yard, especially our rock wall, the night before the Bunny comes. Even if none of them ever take, it's a greater reminder of the season. We'll put out carrots and lettuce, and leave our decorated baskets on the front porch, which is bunny-accessible but also weather-protected. And then, eggs will either be inside or out. We will dye eggs the night before (this year with just vinegar dyes, though I'm doing research on natural dyes with cranberries, onion skins, beets, and the like for next year) and the bunny will bring plastic eggs with little toys or stickers, not money. In the nests, the kiddos will probably find a little candy--marshmallows are their favorites--plus something small like art supplies, stickers, and the like.
We're also going to do some baking because the kids love to help--I'm not sure what yet, maybe the same Irish soda bread we make for St. Patrick's day. And we can make a fresh fruit clafouti, which has lots of eggs. We're debating the main meal. Probably the traditional ham, though we don't eat mammals much anymore. Sides would be veggies, potatoes, rolls, the clafouti, maybe our favorite orange marmalade Citrus Crown cake. There are lots of recipes, and crafts, that I think will be great . . . in a few years. We're too young yet for blown eggs, plaited garlands, and bread in the shape of dove (yes, yes, I know, that's officially for Whitsunday).
I like the possibilities of Easter. It's not overwrought, like Christmas (though, I love Christmas too), and it's not frenzied like Halloween. It's the quiet holiday, with no real strong center like gifts at Christmas or candy at Halloween. This lets me add what I like to what I loved about my childhood Easter. Which means seeds and candy, flowers and baskets, the Bunny and baked ham.
And those little sugar peep eggs.
-=-=-=-=
Ham
Always ham for Easter and we’d pick off the chewy dark bits as soon as it was out of the oven. Very good the next day cut up into macaroni and cheese.
To make red eye gravy, merely boil ham drippings and add water. Some people add coffee.
Bake uncovered at 325°F for 1 1/2-2 hours.
Mom
Irish Soda Bread
We only put caraway seeds in half because I don't like them.
4 cups flour
½ cup sugar
3 ½ teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
2-3 handfuls caraway seeds
1 cup raisins
2 cups milk
1 tablespoon melted butter
Generously grease a large iron skillet (or use a pizza stone). turn on oven to 350°F. Mix together dry ingredients. Add milk and butter. Bake 1 hour.
Note: You might need to add extra milk.
a friend of my MIL
Clafouti
1/2 cup flour
1 cup milk
4 eggs
1/3 cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla or almond extract
3 cups fresh fruit, sliced and, if very juicy, drained
powdered sugar
butter or margarine to grease the pan
Preheat the oven to 350F.
Slowly combine the flour and milk, whisking constantly to avoid lumps. Add in the eggs, sugar, and vanilla, and beat until the mixture is foamy and thick. Spread the fruit in a well-greased 12x8" oblong or 12" round baking pan and pour egg/milk mixture over. Bake for 3-40 minutes until the custard is puffy and borwn and a toothpick inserted comes out clean. The clafouti will fall somewhat while cooking. Sprinkle with powdered sugar and seve warm or cool, by itself or with ice cream.
Circle Round
Citrus Crown Cake
A great upside-down candied topping cake and DP’s favorite dessert, served every Easter (plus some!).
1 package Duncan Hines Moist Deluxe Lemon Supreme Cake Mix
1 jar (12 ounces) orange marmalade
2/3 cup flaked coconut
¼ cup butter, melted
all the ingredients to make the cake mix (eggs, oil, water)
Preheat oven to 350*. Grease generously and flour 10-inch Bundt pan. Combine
marmalade, coconut and melted butter in small mixing bowl; pour into pan.
Prepare cake following package directions; pour batter over marmalade mixture.
Bake 50-55 minutes or until wooden toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool in pan 10 minutes. Invert cake onto serving plate. Cool completely.
Tip: For best results, cut cake with a serrated knife; clean knife after each slice.
Great American Brand Name Baking
As a child, we created Easter nests out of pulled grass and local wildflowers (including my favorite the pink "buttercup" or primrose and azaleas). We dyed eggs and left these outside for the Bunny, along with carrots (right? we fed the bunny? I hope so.). I liked the oil dyes more than any shrink wraps or wax crayons. The Easter Bunny, though, provided the prettiest eggs (I'm told by my mom that the kit the bunny used isn't available anymore). The next morning we had gifts in our nests--nothing big--my two favorites were a Princess Leia folder (which I honestly still have) and a pink flower (maybe a geranium--this led to my "knowing," for I had seen it in the garage earlier that week. But I wasn't traumatized and I'm not sure I made the leap to Santa). There were sometimes peeps, chocolate-covered marshmallows (often in a carton, from my great-grandmother M), chocolate bunnies, jelly beans (before Jelly Bellys, and thus not very good). And my favorite, a sugar peep egg--you know the ones, with the little scenes inside. I LOVE these. I would never eat them but keep them for weeks.
Then we'd look for eggs. Now, my sister, reading this blog, will immediately state that I cheated. I did not. I never took eggs out of my sister's basket. But I did have distinct advantages: I was taller and could see around better, I remembered hiding places from previous years (edge of the swingset, certain gutters), and I was old enough to be suspicious of pots and buckets oddly and unexpectedly upside down in the middle of the yard. I should add, and not to my credit, that I was also not sisterly or sentimental, but quick and competitive, so I didn't "let" her find more. This is probably where the cheating accusation arises. And I admit to being guilty of being greedy and ungenerous. I'm sure she'll weigh in because the Easter Egg hunt and the ownership of certain Christmas ornaments are two arguments we never settle (and probably shouldn't bring up!).
There would be breakfast and much later a traditional ham lunch (though the sides varied and I can't really recall what they were). Always, always we'd find some eggs later, or the cats would. Our parents never remembered where or how many the Easter Bunny hid such things. Oh, and in addition to dyed eggs (which we almost never ate, it being too warm overnight in Houston to guarantee food safety, I guess), there were plastic eggs with money, quarters and dollars.
So, now it's my turn to create Easter. And I'm giving it a lot of thought this year because they are starting to remember rituals and traditions. Because I now live in the colder northeast, where there is not green grass or local wildflowers for nests, and where it is entirely possible that it will not be comfortable enough outside to look for eggs easily, we have to change a few things. Unlike Texas, which is already in full spring, there is little evidence of spring here. But that in itself is exciting.
I've been reading up on Eostara and Spring Equinox (especially in Circle Round by Starhawk and others) for some other ideas to add to our celebrations of Easter and our welcoming of spring, which we are honoring (not the death of Christ, which has no real meaning and holds no interest for me. I can't embrace a religion which so focuses on the love of a mother at Christmas and then cruel death of her child at Easter. Besides, I don't believe in God as such.) Wiccan, or neo-Pagan, renditions and reworkings of ancient and traditional holidays appeal to me because of their embrace of the natural world, interest in the circle and cycles of life, and use of Goddess-and spirit-language as metaphor for the mysterious and unknowable universe around us, as well as their rejection of commercialism and materialism.
In the week leading up to Easter, we'll decorate the windows with drawings and cut-outs of eggs, bunnies, and flowers. We might also plant some seeds in little cups. I particularly like the use of seeds for the holiday. I think we will sprinkle seeds around the yard, especially our rock wall, the night before the Bunny comes. Even if none of them ever take, it's a greater reminder of the season. We'll put out carrots and lettuce, and leave our decorated baskets on the front porch, which is bunny-accessible but also weather-protected. And then, eggs will either be inside or out. We will dye eggs the night before (this year with just vinegar dyes, though I'm doing research on natural dyes with cranberries, onion skins, beets, and the like for next year) and the bunny will bring plastic eggs with little toys or stickers, not money. In the nests, the kiddos will probably find a little candy--marshmallows are their favorites--plus something small like art supplies, stickers, and the like.
We're also going to do some baking because the kids love to help--I'm not sure what yet, maybe the same Irish soda bread we make for St. Patrick's day. And we can make a fresh fruit clafouti, which has lots of eggs. We're debating the main meal. Probably the traditional ham, though we don't eat mammals much anymore. Sides would be veggies, potatoes, rolls, the clafouti, maybe our favorite orange marmalade Citrus Crown cake. There are lots of recipes, and crafts, that I think will be great . . . in a few years. We're too young yet for blown eggs, plaited garlands, and bread in the shape of dove (yes, yes, I know, that's officially for Whitsunday).
I like the possibilities of Easter. It's not overwrought, like Christmas (though, I love Christmas too), and it's not frenzied like Halloween. It's the quiet holiday, with no real strong center like gifts at Christmas or candy at Halloween. This lets me add what I like to what I loved about my childhood Easter. Which means seeds and candy, flowers and baskets, the Bunny and baked ham.
And those little sugar peep eggs.
-=-=-=-=
Ham
Always ham for Easter and we’d pick off the chewy dark bits as soon as it was out of the oven. Very good the next day cut up into macaroni and cheese.
To make red eye gravy, merely boil ham drippings and add water. Some people add coffee.
Bake uncovered at 325°F for 1 1/2-2 hours.
Mom
Irish Soda Bread
We only put caraway seeds in half because I don't like them.
4 cups flour
½ cup sugar
3 ½ teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
2-3 handfuls caraway seeds
1 cup raisins
2 cups milk
1 tablespoon melted butter
Generously grease a large iron skillet (or use a pizza stone). turn on oven to 350°F. Mix together dry ingredients. Add milk and butter. Bake 1 hour.
Note: You might need to add extra milk.
a friend of my MIL
Clafouti
1/2 cup flour
1 cup milk
4 eggs
1/3 cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla or almond extract
3 cups fresh fruit, sliced and, if very juicy, drained
powdered sugar
butter or margarine to grease the pan
Preheat the oven to 350F.
Slowly combine the flour and milk, whisking constantly to avoid lumps. Add in the eggs, sugar, and vanilla, and beat until the mixture is foamy and thick. Spread the fruit in a well-greased 12x8" oblong or 12" round baking pan and pour egg/milk mixture over. Bake for 3-40 minutes until the custard is puffy and borwn and a toothpick inserted comes out clean. The clafouti will fall somewhat while cooking. Sprinkle with powdered sugar and seve warm or cool, by itself or with ice cream.
Circle Round
Citrus Crown Cake
A great upside-down candied topping cake and DP’s favorite dessert, served every Easter (plus some!).
1 package Duncan Hines Moist Deluxe Lemon Supreme Cake Mix
1 jar (12 ounces) orange marmalade
2/3 cup flaked coconut
¼ cup butter, melted
all the ingredients to make the cake mix (eggs, oil, water)
Preheat oven to 350*. Grease generously and flour 10-inch Bundt pan. Combine
marmalade, coconut and melted butter in small mixing bowl; pour into pan.
Prepare cake following package directions; pour batter over marmalade mixture.
Bake 50-55 minutes or until wooden toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool in pan 10 minutes. Invert cake onto serving plate. Cool completely.
Tip: For best results, cut cake with a serrated knife; clean knife after each slice.
Great American Brand Name Baking
Thursday, March 6, 2008
A New Ritual
We have a new goodnight ritual, though it also crops up at other times.
DS started it, after seeing the Valentine's Day episode of Little Bear (can I tell you how much I love this show?). That night, when I kissed him good night and said I had a wonderful day (the other nighttime saying that DS started), he said, "I love you more than mud." Awhhhh.
Don't get it? See, Duck on the show loves mud and made Valentine's day cards with her footprint--she said it meant "I love you more than mud."
Awwwwhhh.
So now, my hugs are sometimes accompanied with this mud statement, which is funny because when I was growing up the family saying was "I love you like a rock!"--this originated with one of my dad's fishing buddies, Champ, who was a real character. I think it means steadfast, strong, solid.
Now, the kiddos have added, also from that episode, "I'm your secret admirer . . . and you know it!" to which you respond in kind. It can go on ad infinitem.
Awwwwhhhhh.
DS started it, after seeing the Valentine's Day episode of Little Bear (can I tell you how much I love this show?). That night, when I kissed him good night and said I had a wonderful day (the other nighttime saying that DS started), he said, "I love you more than mud." Awhhhh.
Don't get it? See, Duck on the show loves mud and made Valentine's day cards with her footprint--she said it meant "I love you more than mud."
Awwwwhhh.
So now, my hugs are sometimes accompanied with this mud statement, which is funny because when I was growing up the family saying was "I love you like a rock!"--this originated with one of my dad's fishing buddies, Champ, who was a real character. I think it means steadfast, strong, solid.
Now, the kiddos have added, also from that episode, "I'm your secret admirer . . . and you know it!" to which you respond in kind. It can go on ad infinitem.
Awwwwhhhhh.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Blogging Therapy
Just got this link on a study of the psychological benefits of blogging. Turns out, all this time I spend sending my typewritten soliloquies out into the ether makes me feel more socially-connected, less isolated--which is just what a SAHM needs!
Inch by Inch, Row by Row
I saw a robin today. Two actually, on the median looking for a snack. Spring must be here.
I am so ready. If you know me, you've heard me say that winter is my favorite season. And it was, I think, before kids. I loved snow and cold and lots of warm stews. But the ordeal of ice and coats and hats and runny noses and playing inside has taken its toll. And I am ready for spring.
The other day, DD and I went looking for it in the yard. We spotted a few clumps of snow drops coming up next to our rock wall. And there are several tulip sprouts peaking up in our tulip ring by the mailbox. She was so excited and pulled back the leaves several times by hersef to look at the tulip sprouts.
And they are both planning our garden, based on what is in Little Bear's garden in the tv show and on various books we have about gardens (including a picture book of the song in this post's title and a very eco-friendly book about a groundhog by Lynne Cherry). Corn is high on the list for DD and tomatoes for DS. They are excited about planting and watching them grow. They've even scouted spots in the yard.
Mind you, I come from gardening stock--my grandparents had an amazing garden in the country with all good things. I remember seeing asparagus poking out of the ground, watermelon growing all around, tall corn, tomatoes (which even then I wouldn't eat). I don't know if my mom's mom gardened--maybe a Victory garden during the war? But I grew up in suburbia, and we didn't have much of a garden for any stretch of time. There was, however, a cute story about my helping Mom in the yard one day--planting my little 4 year old feet in the ground and saying, "Now I will grow!" Dad grew roses and much later tomatoes, but not much else. I think I had a strawberry plant one year as a child but the squirrels ate them all. DP grew up in the city and, while her parents liked gardening, there wasn't much space (though they still managed to grow more tomatoes than they all could eat, as well as strawberries and snow peas). And in the years that we've owned the house, we've put in some roses and a lilac bush (I'm partial to a flower garden and would love something good and English cottage-like, but that's tons of work, rather like graduate school in gardening. And I can't read yet!), as well as some herbs, but we have been mostly unsuccessful and discouraged. Now, with kiddos, we both have great intentions and no experience.
We're organized, research-oriented gals and so we love a project. And this is going to be the one for this year. We're considering theme areas--the "pizza" section with basil, tomatoes, and oregano, as well as the "First Peoples" section with the "three sisters", squash, beans, and corn. And the kids would like all of that. So, we're getting ready--soil tests, seed catalogs, studying our yard's sun patterns, books on green gardening and gardening with kids. But it's all a bit daunting, especially as we want it to be both successful as a garden and fun for the kids.
Are there any gardeners out there? Any suggestions?
Spring is almost here, you know . . .
I am so ready. If you know me, you've heard me say that winter is my favorite season. And it was, I think, before kids. I loved snow and cold and lots of warm stews. But the ordeal of ice and coats and hats and runny noses and playing inside has taken its toll. And I am ready for spring.
The other day, DD and I went looking for it in the yard. We spotted a few clumps of snow drops coming up next to our rock wall. And there are several tulip sprouts peaking up in our tulip ring by the mailbox. She was so excited and pulled back the leaves several times by hersef to look at the tulip sprouts.
And they are both planning our garden, based on what is in Little Bear's garden in the tv show and on various books we have about gardens (including a picture book of the song in this post's title and a very eco-friendly book about a groundhog by Lynne Cherry). Corn is high on the list for DD and tomatoes for DS. They are excited about planting and watching them grow. They've even scouted spots in the yard.
Mind you, I come from gardening stock--my grandparents had an amazing garden in the country with all good things. I remember seeing asparagus poking out of the ground, watermelon growing all around, tall corn, tomatoes (which even then I wouldn't eat). I don't know if my mom's mom gardened--maybe a Victory garden during the war? But I grew up in suburbia, and we didn't have much of a garden for any stretch of time. There was, however, a cute story about my helping Mom in the yard one day--planting my little 4 year old feet in the ground and saying, "Now I will grow!" Dad grew roses and much later tomatoes, but not much else. I think I had a strawberry plant one year as a child but the squirrels ate them all. DP grew up in the city and, while her parents liked gardening, there wasn't much space (though they still managed to grow more tomatoes than they all could eat, as well as strawberries and snow peas). And in the years that we've owned the house, we've put in some roses and a lilac bush (I'm partial to a flower garden and would love something good and English cottage-like, but that's tons of work, rather like graduate school in gardening. And I can't read yet!), as well as some herbs, but we have been mostly unsuccessful and discouraged. Now, with kiddos, we both have great intentions and no experience.
We're organized, research-oriented gals and so we love a project. And this is going to be the one for this year. We're considering theme areas--the "pizza" section with basil, tomatoes, and oregano, as well as the "First Peoples" section with the "three sisters", squash, beans, and corn. And the kids would like all of that. So, we're getting ready--soil tests, seed catalogs, studying our yard's sun patterns, books on green gardening and gardening with kids. But it's all a bit daunting, especially as we want it to be both successful as a garden and fun for the kids.
Are there any gardeners out there? Any suggestions?
Spring is almost here, you know . . .
PT Update
So as I've mentioned, I was supposed to graduate from physical therapy recently. For 6 months, I've stretched and strengthened and things have improved. And I've learned much about myself along the way.
And then I pulled my back out. Twice. Once picking up DS after shoveling some snow (I like shoveling snow). And then about a week later, turning around in the car to do something. And now I'm back to limping again. I can't really pick up the kids. And my PT has advised me not to do any extraneous walking.
See, as I've mentioned, my pelvis is uneven. So uneven, that apparently my left leg is longer than my right. Which means there is all this stress on the muscles on my left side. And I'm having trouble healing from the back pulls, which were probably helped along by the constant strain on my muscles despite all the exercises. Now, my PT knew that I was unbalanced but I think she hadn't taken into account all the effects. So now I have a lift in my right shoe, to make the legs match, as we consider if and what kind of orthotics to buy.
It makes sense, though. I threw out my back in May after taking up walking a mile in the morning for new exercise--I probably put everything under too much strain, thinking I was making myself healthier. And even this week, when things were tight and uncomfortable, I tried to walk it off and only ended up making it worse (this happened at Target last Friday and then again on the way to Chinese class yesterday).
And so, for now, I'm not supposed to do any recreational walking.
And DP is at the grocery store . . . but at least we're on the right track.
And then I pulled my back out. Twice. Once picking up DS after shoveling some snow (I like shoveling snow). And then about a week later, turning around in the car to do something. And now I'm back to limping again. I can't really pick up the kids. And my PT has advised me not to do any extraneous walking.
See, as I've mentioned, my pelvis is uneven. So uneven, that apparently my left leg is longer than my right. Which means there is all this stress on the muscles on my left side. And I'm having trouble healing from the back pulls, which were probably helped along by the constant strain on my muscles despite all the exercises. Now, my PT knew that I was unbalanced but I think she hadn't taken into account all the effects. So now I have a lift in my right shoe, to make the legs match, as we consider if and what kind of orthotics to buy.
It makes sense, though. I threw out my back in May after taking up walking a mile in the morning for new exercise--I probably put everything under too much strain, thinking I was making myself healthier. And even this week, when things were tight and uncomfortable, I tried to walk it off and only ended up making it worse (this happened at Target last Friday and then again on the way to Chinese class yesterday).
And so, for now, I'm not supposed to do any recreational walking.
And DP is at the grocery store . . . but at least we're on the right track.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Gentle Reader
I have started reading a biography on Mrs. Beeton, the Victorian era's Martha Stewart (without the jail time, or, well, if there are any felonies, I haven't gotten there yet) by Kathryn Hughes and am enjoying it immensely. It's only the third or fourth book I've read since the babes, or even since my Ph.D., which has gotten me wondering: why don't I read more?
Okay, sure, I read several articles and the headlines of the NYTimes everyday. I subscribe to about a dozen magazines--food mags with essays (Gourmet, Saveur), parenting mags with essays and articles (Mothering, Brain, Child), history mags (Archaeology), our UU World mag from church--and read most of them cover to cover. But books, or specifically, novels? Nope.
Looking back, I read a lot as a child. In fact, it was always the first thing I listed as hobbies when asked. Little Women was my all-time favorite, one of the only ones I re-read, then Judy Blume, the Little House series, several award winners like Island of the Blue Dolphins and Across Five Aprils. I even read all of Gone with the Wind one summer (mind you, it's long and different from the movie in several points). And the novels of Mary Renault probably made me a classical studies major. But perhaps by college, definitely by grad school, I was out of the reading habit. Nothing like higher education to kill the love of books, I guess. I did read some historical mysteries, you know, "twinkie" reading in the bathtub or on the subway, but nothing substantial (especially since I was reading Shakespeare by myself in junior high--I didn't understand it all but I tried). So what happened? DP used to joke while I was finishing my Ph.D. that I read the indices, notes, and bibliographies of books and not the books themselves. And she was right. I read for information, for details, to be transported to another time and/or place, for my mind. I think that is why I prefer historical novels (the good ones by reputable historians, especially those written by novelists with Ph.Ds in their field like Peter Tremayne or Sarah Waters), or literature written in other times (like Elizabeth Gaskell or George Eliot or Jane Austen--DP and I are commencing an Austen-othon, reading her oeuvre again), or non-fiction. Harry Potter, one of my most recent favorites, is an exception, but then it was quite exceptional.
I'll contrast this with how my mom reads, if I understand it correctly. She reads for her spirit, in addition to her mind. She loves a good story, a well-turned phrase in a carefully crafted book, the various overlays of meaning, the emotional experiences she gleans. Her book group just finished All the King's Men and she has spoken glowingly of the story of a man, a politician, a region, a period, all the ways Robert Penn Warren created his multifaceted book. You could tell she had been so touched by so many aspects of this work, both intellectually and emotionally. She reads a vast array of things, is always reading--it's very impressive. If she were a toddler, she'd be the kid who ate everything and whose parents would be so proud.
And I'm just picky. People recommend books to me all the time (Jodi Picoult and Mitch Albom are on the top of that list now) thinking I must be a voracious reader, and I just nod and smile with no intention of trying the book. I'm not interested in the angst and anxieties of the modern era as described by our own novelists. I'm not saying these aren't good books, just not what I like. Which is curious, because I'm not all that interested in contemporary art either. It is the historical art that appeals to me, appeals to the historian in me.
I'm going to have to give it all some more thought: if I don't read for my spirit, what do I do? I am inspired by church, by experiences, by conversations with people, by the knowledge I learn from reading. What is it that I don't like about the modern era, my own time? I don't over-romanticize the past (I know too much to do that) but I do prefer reading about it (or watching it in movies or seeing its buildings/art/fashion). What kind of reader do I want to be? Why do I feel I need to be a different kind of reader?
That one is easy enough: the kids. I want them to love reading as much as I did as a child. We read a lot together, not just at bedtime but off and on through the day (my re-reading of children's books--fresh eyes on Dr Seuss and Goodnight, Moon etc is an entirely different post). We have too many books--yes, there can be too many when you can't find the one you just must read--but DP and I started gathering them before the kids were born. Books we remembered as kids, books that contained a message we liked, books with interesting illustrations (because, of course, story books are the first art children see). I've read that children become readers if there are books in the house (even if people never read them) and if they see their parents reading (regardless of what they read--this was a study on women reading trashy romances). So, I read magazines around them, but not books. Even with my non-fiction books, it's hard to concentrate and keep up a sense of continuity when you're interrupted regularly. It's something we should work on. Maybe we need quiet reading time? Perhaps instead of the tv at rest time, because that sure doesn't work. DS actually told me last week that he won't nap with the tv on: "I'm tired but I can't see when I close my eyes." Of course not.
And I know just what I'll read during rest time: The Short Life and Long Times of Mrs. Beeton.
Okay, sure, I read several articles and the headlines of the NYTimes everyday. I subscribe to about a dozen magazines--food mags with essays (Gourmet, Saveur), parenting mags with essays and articles (Mothering, Brain, Child), history mags (Archaeology), our UU World mag from church--and read most of them cover to cover. But books, or specifically, novels? Nope.
Looking back, I read a lot as a child. In fact, it was always the first thing I listed as hobbies when asked. Little Women was my all-time favorite, one of the only ones I re-read, then Judy Blume, the Little House series, several award winners like Island of the Blue Dolphins and Across Five Aprils. I even read all of Gone with the Wind one summer (mind you, it's long and different from the movie in several points). And the novels of Mary Renault probably made me a classical studies major. But perhaps by college, definitely by grad school, I was out of the reading habit. Nothing like higher education to kill the love of books, I guess. I did read some historical mysteries, you know, "twinkie" reading in the bathtub or on the subway, but nothing substantial (especially since I was reading Shakespeare by myself in junior high--I didn't understand it all but I tried). So what happened? DP used to joke while I was finishing my Ph.D. that I read the indices, notes, and bibliographies of books and not the books themselves. And she was right. I read for information, for details, to be transported to another time and/or place, for my mind. I think that is why I prefer historical novels (the good ones by reputable historians, especially those written by novelists with Ph.Ds in their field like Peter Tremayne or Sarah Waters), or literature written in other times (like Elizabeth Gaskell or George Eliot or Jane Austen--DP and I are commencing an Austen-othon, reading her oeuvre again), or non-fiction. Harry Potter, one of my most recent favorites, is an exception, but then it was quite exceptional.
I'll contrast this with how my mom reads, if I understand it correctly. She reads for her spirit, in addition to her mind. She loves a good story, a well-turned phrase in a carefully crafted book, the various overlays of meaning, the emotional experiences she gleans. Her book group just finished All the King's Men and she has spoken glowingly of the story of a man, a politician, a region, a period, all the ways Robert Penn Warren created his multifaceted book. You could tell she had been so touched by so many aspects of this work, both intellectually and emotionally. She reads a vast array of things, is always reading--it's very impressive. If she were a toddler, she'd be the kid who ate everything and whose parents would be so proud.
And I'm just picky. People recommend books to me all the time (Jodi Picoult and Mitch Albom are on the top of that list now) thinking I must be a voracious reader, and I just nod and smile with no intention of trying the book. I'm not interested in the angst and anxieties of the modern era as described by our own novelists. I'm not saying these aren't good books, just not what I like. Which is curious, because I'm not all that interested in contemporary art either. It is the historical art that appeals to me, appeals to the historian in me.
I'm going to have to give it all some more thought: if I don't read for my spirit, what do I do? I am inspired by church, by experiences, by conversations with people, by the knowledge I learn from reading. What is it that I don't like about the modern era, my own time? I don't over-romanticize the past (I know too much to do that) but I do prefer reading about it (or watching it in movies or seeing its buildings/art/fashion). What kind of reader do I want to be? Why do I feel I need to be a different kind of reader?
That one is easy enough: the kids. I want them to love reading as much as I did as a child. We read a lot together, not just at bedtime but off and on through the day (my re-reading of children's books--fresh eyes on Dr Seuss and Goodnight, Moon etc is an entirely different post). We have too many books--yes, there can be too many when you can't find the one you just must read--but DP and I started gathering them before the kids were born. Books we remembered as kids, books that contained a message we liked, books with interesting illustrations (because, of course, story books are the first art children see). I've read that children become readers if there are books in the house (even if people never read them) and if they see their parents reading (regardless of what they read--this was a study on women reading trashy romances). So, I read magazines around them, but not books. Even with my non-fiction books, it's hard to concentrate and keep up a sense of continuity when you're interrupted regularly. It's something we should work on. Maybe we need quiet reading time? Perhaps instead of the tv at rest time, because that sure doesn't work. DS actually told me last week that he won't nap with the tv on: "I'm tired but I can't see when I close my eyes." Of course not.
And I know just what I'll read during rest time: The Short Life and Long Times of Mrs. Beeton.
Total Immersion
We went to our first toddler Chinese class today. We picked up DP from work on the way there, mainly so I would have some backup in a new place; she won't go every week. There were only 3 kiddos in the class--our two and then this very blond white girl with whom I could only describe as a Chinese nanny in addition to her very proper, upperclass Connecticut white grandmother in tow. I think there is supposed to be one other child.
The "Lao Shi," or teacher, spoke almost completely in Mandarin, using props and pointing to encourage the kids. First we talked about panda bears, "xiong mao," even making little stick puppets to wave as we sang our panda song to the tune of "Frere Jacques." The teacher acted it out, but it was only afterwards that DP told me we were singing something like "Panda Bear, Panda Bear, walk, walk, walk, walk, has black ears and a black tail, doesn't it look strange?" There was a stuffed panda, and we said "ni hao" (hello) and shook hands, practicing "ni hao" with each other, the Lao Shi, and the panda. We also tossed a ball back and forth and said hello. Then we learned about "xiao mao," or little cat and petted the stuffed one, saying "ni hao." There was also a kitten song, but I don't remember the tune or the words.
Which is why it is children, not full grown adults, who should learn languages!
Our kids were pretty quiet, actually quite shy and unresponsive. DD quietly whispered "ni hao" and "xai jian," or goodbye, a few times. Not DS, who by the end of it was, I think, so overwhelmed and exhausted (we'd been up since 5--they're getting ready for the time change--ugh--and no, it's not our idea) that he would just say no when Lao Shi would try to get him to talk. But then, it took us weeks to warm up to our library music teacher. In our defense, the little blonde girl, even though she seemed to recognize more Chinese, was trying to get out the door before we were!
All in all, I really liked the class. I am having trouble remembering the correct pronounciations of the few words we learned today (mainly because I was trying so hard to remember what certain words meant), but enjoyed hearing the teacher speak non-stop in Mandarin. I still don't hear the different tones, but maybe that will come in time. DP thinks so. And of course, it certainly will for the kiddos.
Which is the whole idea.
Xai jian!
The "Lao Shi," or teacher, spoke almost completely in Mandarin, using props and pointing to encourage the kids. First we talked about panda bears, "xiong mao," even making little stick puppets to wave as we sang our panda song to the tune of "Frere Jacques." The teacher acted it out, but it was only afterwards that DP told me we were singing something like "Panda Bear, Panda Bear, walk, walk, walk, walk, has black ears and a black tail, doesn't it look strange?" There was a stuffed panda, and we said "ni hao" (hello) and shook hands, practicing "ni hao" with each other, the Lao Shi, and the panda. We also tossed a ball back and forth and said hello. Then we learned about "xiao mao," or little cat and petted the stuffed one, saying "ni hao." There was also a kitten song, but I don't remember the tune or the words.
Which is why it is children, not full grown adults, who should learn languages!
Our kids were pretty quiet, actually quite shy and unresponsive. DD quietly whispered "ni hao" and "xai jian," or goodbye, a few times. Not DS, who by the end of it was, I think, so overwhelmed and exhausted (we'd been up since 5--they're getting ready for the time change--ugh--and no, it's not our idea) that he would just say no when Lao Shi would try to get him to talk. But then, it took us weeks to warm up to our library music teacher. In our defense, the little blonde girl, even though she seemed to recognize more Chinese, was trying to get out the door before we were!
All in all, I really liked the class. I am having trouble remembering the correct pronounciations of the few words we learned today (mainly because I was trying so hard to remember what certain words meant), but enjoyed hearing the teacher speak non-stop in Mandarin. I still don't hear the different tones, but maybe that will come in time. DP thinks so. And of course, it certainly will for the kiddos.
Which is the whole idea.
Xai jian!
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Writer's Block
I feel the need to blog tonight, and indeed have a lot to say, but am not feeling focused enough to put most of it in a post. Or posts. I have lots of blog ideas running concurrently in my head but nothing fleshed out enough to say.
For instance, I have been mulling over lesbian separatism recently, since the death of our friend, and increased communication with friends in Chicago, many of whom have separatist leanings (i.e. removing themselves as much as possible from spaces with men by creating womyn-only or even woman-born-womyn only spaces). It was never much my thing, nor was it DP's, though we did enjoy some of the women-only activities such as coffeehouse and chorus. We are so far removed from any kind of lesbian community now, though, that I look back on those days happily. Even though, especially though, now with a son, separatism makes even less sense to either one of us.
I've also been preparing my post on art. I'm so frustrated by the quality of art activities for the kiddos at the library. Two year olds shouldn't be following a pattern to make a specific-looking product that they can only produce with overwhelming help from parents. It's a big waste of time and not creative at all, regardless of how hard the librarians work at cutting out the templates. My own art projects--I run a small art group for toddlers--are much more open-ended and (hopefully) creative. For instance, at the end of the month, we're doing string painting--dip string in paint and sling it on paper and even affix it to said paper in patterns (there will be glue in the paint to help this). Messy, fun, colorful, tactile, mixed media, open-ended, no "right" way, as much about process as finished product. In this post, when I write it, I'll reference some books, my favorite ways to talk to kiddos about their art, how to talk to kids about art in museums (we're going with our other playgroup soon), and the like. With lots of righteous indignation.
I haven't written my Chinese New Year post either. Need too. Even dug up the write-up that their Ar-Ma wrote on it, with all the appropriate Thai and Chinese words so that I get it right. Chinese looms large right now, with that show (though, we're not really watching anymore, too bad) and classes starting this week.
And I was going to write about almost being done with physical therapy--and then I pulled my back last week in a combo of snow shoveling and picking up DS awkwardly, then pulled it again yesterday by turning around to hand the kiddos something in the car. Blah. I doubt I'll be done with PT this week, then. But I was going to wrap up what I had learned and what the experience had meant to me.
Oh, and two of my friends have blogs so I'm editing my own page to link to theirs. I'll add more as time passes and permits.
What does that leave? Oh, right, food. One of the big themes of this blog. Which I haven't gotten to in awhile. I had a good food week myself, and lost 2.2 lbs. My goal is 1 lb a week so this is a good week. I've been a little behind but am now catching up to where I had wanted to be. Does that make sense? Anyway, I've also been implementing some of the new ideas I had for the kids--bigger lunches, more DIY meals, and it's going okay. That, and baked chicken with rice and gravy every week. And something from Ma--they love Ma's food--they've been inhaling pork buns and noodles all weekend (we were down visiting Ma and Gong for her birthday celebration this weekend).
So that's where we are. Somewhere, but nowhere really. I'm going to bed so I can get some extra sleep. I'm having 4 kids here by myself tomorrow, to help out my friend with the new baby. I've done it once before.
And, well, that's a post in itself!
For instance, I have been mulling over lesbian separatism recently, since the death of our friend, and increased communication with friends in Chicago, many of whom have separatist leanings (i.e. removing themselves as much as possible from spaces with men by creating womyn-only or even woman-born-womyn only spaces). It was never much my thing, nor was it DP's, though we did enjoy some of the women-only activities such as coffeehouse and chorus. We are so far removed from any kind of lesbian community now, though, that I look back on those days happily. Even though, especially though, now with a son, separatism makes even less sense to either one of us.
I've also been preparing my post on art. I'm so frustrated by the quality of art activities for the kiddos at the library. Two year olds shouldn't be following a pattern to make a specific-looking product that they can only produce with overwhelming help from parents. It's a big waste of time and not creative at all, regardless of how hard the librarians work at cutting out the templates. My own art projects--I run a small art group for toddlers--are much more open-ended and (hopefully) creative. For instance, at the end of the month, we're doing string painting--dip string in paint and sling it on paper and even affix it to said paper in patterns (there will be glue in the paint to help this). Messy, fun, colorful, tactile, mixed media, open-ended, no "right" way, as much about process as finished product. In this post, when I write it, I'll reference some books, my favorite ways to talk to kiddos about their art, how to talk to kids about art in museums (we're going with our other playgroup soon), and the like. With lots of righteous indignation.
I haven't written my Chinese New Year post either. Need too. Even dug up the write-up that their Ar-Ma wrote on it, with all the appropriate Thai and Chinese words so that I get it right. Chinese looms large right now, with that show (though, we're not really watching anymore, too bad) and classes starting this week.
And I was going to write about almost being done with physical therapy--and then I pulled my back last week in a combo of snow shoveling and picking up DS awkwardly, then pulled it again yesterday by turning around to hand the kiddos something in the car. Blah. I doubt I'll be done with PT this week, then. But I was going to wrap up what I had learned and what the experience had meant to me.
Oh, and two of my friends have blogs so I'm editing my own page to link to theirs. I'll add more as time passes and permits.
What does that leave? Oh, right, food. One of the big themes of this blog. Which I haven't gotten to in awhile. I had a good food week myself, and lost 2.2 lbs. My goal is 1 lb a week so this is a good week. I've been a little behind but am now catching up to where I had wanted to be. Does that make sense? Anyway, I've also been implementing some of the new ideas I had for the kids--bigger lunches, more DIY meals, and it's going okay. That, and baked chicken with rice and gravy every week. And something from Ma--they love Ma's food--they've been inhaling pork buns and noodles all weekend (we were down visiting Ma and Gong for her birthday celebration this weekend).
So that's where we are. Somewhere, but nowhere really. I'm going to bed so I can get some extra sleep. I'm having 4 kids here by myself tomorrow, to help out my friend with the new baby. I've done it once before.
And, well, that's a post in itself!
Friday, February 29, 2008
Thank Heavens for Playgroup
I'm a much better mommy when we get out of the house regularly.
It had been 5 whole days, plus the three days snowbound with Gommie (that doesn't really count, though, since she was here), since we'd really been anywhere. We'd cancelled playdates and skipped library storytime and our usual "school" session at the community center because of illness. But today, we left home and even the kiddos were ready--usually they drag their feet quite literally about leaving home but today DD actually helped put on her own socks and DS pulled on his own diaper to help. A nice change. Desperation, no doubt.
And so, we were at playgroup for nearly 3 hours. The kids saw other kids, different toys, some new snacks (though DD favored the baked oatmeal that she had helped me make that morning), other adults, new pets. And I had new snacks too, adult conversation, someone else to mind the kiddos when I got a cup of coffee or went to the restroom, and no big mess to clean up (until it's my turn again!). Just enough excitement and exhileration that we all practically danced to the car when it was over (actually, they played in the yard despite the 26F temp).
And fell promptly asleep! For almost 2 hours.
We had a late lunch, read some stories, and then the day was over. No fighting, no biting, no blood, no tears.
No sweat!
It had been 5 whole days, plus the three days snowbound with Gommie (that doesn't really count, though, since she was here), since we'd really been anywhere. We'd cancelled playdates and skipped library storytime and our usual "school" session at the community center because of illness. But today, we left home and even the kiddos were ready--usually they drag their feet quite literally about leaving home but today DD actually helped put on her own socks and DS pulled on his own diaper to help. A nice change. Desperation, no doubt.
And so, we were at playgroup for nearly 3 hours. The kids saw other kids, different toys, some new snacks (though DD favored the baked oatmeal that she had helped me make that morning), other adults, new pets. And I had new snacks too, adult conversation, someone else to mind the kiddos when I got a cup of coffee or went to the restroom, and no big mess to clean up (until it's my turn again!). Just enough excitement and exhileration that we all practically danced to the car when it was over (actually, they played in the yard despite the 26F temp).
And fell promptly asleep! For almost 2 hours.
We had a late lunch, read some stories, and then the day was over. No fighting, no biting, no blood, no tears.
No sweat!
Speechless
Sometimes, DD says or notices something that leaves me speechless.
She has noticed that there are two different McDonald's that we go to--the one with the brown roof and the one with the red roof. For those of you local, did you even know there was a difference? Not me.
Today, after playgroup she informed me that she and the hostess matched--they were both wearing pink shirts. Miss B, if you're reading this, she's right, isn't she?
And she also remembered the name of your dog, Miss B, and told Mama tonight that she petted him.
Yesterday, as I was telling them a story at bedtime--my own made-up story about a dragon who loved music and the little kids who went to his mountain cave to find him--she asked me where the story was and I said in my head. "There's no dragon in your hair, Mommy."
And that's just the last 24 hours.
Sometimes, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to keep up.
She has noticed that there are two different McDonald's that we go to--the one with the brown roof and the one with the red roof. For those of you local, did you even know there was a difference? Not me.
Today, after playgroup she informed me that she and the hostess matched--they were both wearing pink shirts. Miss B, if you're reading this, she's right, isn't she?
And she also remembered the name of your dog, Miss B, and told Mama tonight that she petted him.
Yesterday, as I was telling them a story at bedtime--my own made-up story about a dragon who loved music and the little kids who went to his mountain cave to find him--she asked me where the story was and I said in my head. "There's no dragon in your hair, Mommy."
And that's just the last 24 hours.
Sometimes, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to keep up.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Thinking of You
My dear Uncle W, the husband of the aunt whom DD is named after is in the hospital undergoing treatment for just-diagnosed lung cancer.
We love you, Uncle W!
We love you, Uncle W!
A Mommy's Dilemma
No, nothing like Sophie's Choice, so perhaps nothing to get worked up about.
But with two sick kids at home--first, DD with the stomach flu, and now both with head colds--I am faced with what I think is a fairly common suburban dilemma.
That's right: Target, McDonald's, or television?
But with two sick kids at home--first, DD with the stomach flu, and now both with head colds--I am faced with what I think is a fairly common suburban dilemma.
That's right: Target, McDonald's, or television?
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Update
Well, she threw up for 9 hours, but seems much better today. No one else in the house has it. Yet. We didn't do much today--lots of tv and some quiet toys, as none of us got much sleep. And DD fell asleep--almost literally fell asleep in her dinner--at 4:45. Yep, dinner was at 4. Things get off when you wake up at 5 a.m.
I have a list of posts somewhere but won't get to them tonight. I'm going to try to catch up on my sleep.
I have a list of posts somewhere but won't get to them tonight. I'm going to try to catch up on my sleep.
The Baby is Here!
My friend L and her husband K had their baby this morning, after 3 1/2 weeks of labor. The baby, a boy, weighs in at 8 lbs. And mom and babe are doing well.
Can't wait to meet you, little boy!
Can't wait to meet you, little boy!
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Intermission
We have the stomach flu.
If I trace the path correctly, a little friend and Gommie got it over the weekend. DD started throwing up today at 4. The little friend's mom came down with it today too. Which means DD, DP, and I are next.
It might be a few days before I post again.
But until then, DS's first real joke (heard as I held his sister so she would fall asleep; he was in his crib trying to self-soothe): "Twinkle twinkle, little star, how I wonder . . . what you had for breakfast."
If I trace the path correctly, a little friend and Gommie got it over the weekend. DD started throwing up today at 4. The little friend's mom came down with it today too. Which means DD, DP, and I are next.
It might be a few days before I post again.
But until then, DS's first real joke (heard as I held his sister so she would fall asleep; he was in his crib trying to self-soothe): "Twinkle twinkle, little star, how I wonder . . . what you had for breakfast."
Starbucks is Closing
. . . tonight at 5:30 EST for 3 hours.
So they can learn how to make coffee.
I think it's even funnier because it's apparently true.
I don't usually get coffee at that hour but it makes me want some.
Which I'm sure is exactly what Dunkin' Donuts is hoping!
So they can learn how to make coffee.
I think it's even funnier because it's apparently true.
I don't usually get coffee at that hour but it makes me want some.
Which I'm sure is exactly what Dunkin' Donuts is hoping!
It's Her Party
We celebrated our babysitter's 16th birthday this week. She had a huge dance party and we were invited! That's very sweet--it's not often that 16 year olds want to hang with the under 3 crowd (but I bet that's better than the over 30 crowd!).
DD wore her pink party dress, much like the Princess dress, but pink velvet with white. Plus her new sparkly Dora tennis shoes. She carried in a dozen red roses to give to DBabysitter and looked quite the sight. Reminded me of pictures of children presenting Princess Diana with bouquets--DD was so serious and careful and then gave a big smile.
DS was happy in his firetruck sweatshirt, cum lovey. And it took him awhile to warm up to the crowd, the noise, and the lights.
Ah, the lights--swirling, multi-colored dance lights. DD jumped right in and was doing her moves--a kind of Bollywood-inspired, elbow teeter-totter with head shake and butt wiggle (you have to see it). And there I was, with her, trying to dance to music that I have never heard, not being sure about the current dance style, so I tried my mid-80s New Age Mommy Dance. Luckily, all eyes were on the kid. Soon, DS joined us. And DP watched from the sidelines. Waltzing is more her style. Less you think we were hogging the dance floor, it was still that awkward period before anyone actually gets up to dance. We were the only ones.
Between songs, DD and DS scarfed down Swedish meatballs and chicken fingers. And DS loved dipping pretzels in honey mustard.
And then they handed out glow in the dark necklaces--purple--and it was like we'd been invaded by mini-Jedis. DD brandished that stick like her life, and the fate of the Republic, depended on it. DS much preferred playing with the silver beads that the mom of the birthday girl had bestowed upon him.
We danced and ate until well after bedtime, but it's good to celebrate these important milestones.
So we did it again yesterday, with a private party for DB when she came over to sit. I'd baked a white cake in two layers the night before. DD joyfully helped me whip cream while DS waited for me to slice strawberries. We spread jam between the layers and the smeared one whip cream, which also coated the exterior. DS helped me decorate with strawberries--1 for the cake, 2 for him, 1 for the cake, 2 for him--but not DD's side because she didn't want strawberries. Then DD began to play with the remaining whipped cream and got it all the way up her arms and all over her face. At least we'd finished the frosting!
We wore hats, lit candles, and sang "Happy Birthday" when DB arrived, giving her a Dora/Diego pirate ship and a Happy Birthday Thomas train car with her name on the bottom. And then I think they each had 3 slices--DD eating the cream, DS eating the strawberries and jam, and DB eating it all. It was quite the party.
But then, 16 is quite a birthday.
-=-=-=
My Strawberry Shortcake Birthday Cake
1 box white cake, with ingredients to make it
1 pint heavy whipping cream
1 jar all-fruit strawberry jam
fresh strawberries, sliced
Bake cake in two 9" rounds according to instructions. Cool completely.
Whip heavy cream with sugar to taste (I like it less sweet so the cream flavor comes through).
Spread jam on bottom cake layer. Smooth some cream over this. Top with second round.
Cover with remaining whipped cream. Decorate with strawberries.
Serve immediately and keep remainders in refrigerator.
DD wore her pink party dress, much like the Princess dress, but pink velvet with white. Plus her new sparkly Dora tennis shoes. She carried in a dozen red roses to give to DBabysitter and looked quite the sight. Reminded me of pictures of children presenting Princess Diana with bouquets--DD was so serious and careful and then gave a big smile.
DS was happy in his firetruck sweatshirt, cum lovey. And it took him awhile to warm up to the crowd, the noise, and the lights.
Ah, the lights--swirling, multi-colored dance lights. DD jumped right in and was doing her moves--a kind of Bollywood-inspired, elbow teeter-totter with head shake and butt wiggle (you have to see it). And there I was, with her, trying to dance to music that I have never heard, not being sure about the current dance style, so I tried my mid-80s New Age Mommy Dance. Luckily, all eyes were on the kid. Soon, DS joined us. And DP watched from the sidelines. Waltzing is more her style. Less you think we were hogging the dance floor, it was still that awkward period before anyone actually gets up to dance. We were the only ones.
Between songs, DD and DS scarfed down Swedish meatballs and chicken fingers. And DS loved dipping pretzels in honey mustard.
And then they handed out glow in the dark necklaces--purple--and it was like we'd been invaded by mini-Jedis. DD brandished that stick like her life, and the fate of the Republic, depended on it. DS much preferred playing with the silver beads that the mom of the birthday girl had bestowed upon him.
We danced and ate until well after bedtime, but it's good to celebrate these important milestones.
So we did it again yesterday, with a private party for DB when she came over to sit. I'd baked a white cake in two layers the night before. DD joyfully helped me whip cream while DS waited for me to slice strawberries. We spread jam between the layers and the smeared one whip cream, which also coated the exterior. DS helped me decorate with strawberries--1 for the cake, 2 for him, 1 for the cake, 2 for him--but not DD's side because she didn't want strawberries. Then DD began to play with the remaining whipped cream and got it all the way up her arms and all over her face. At least we'd finished the frosting!
We wore hats, lit candles, and sang "Happy Birthday" when DB arrived, giving her a Dora/Diego pirate ship and a Happy Birthday Thomas train car with her name on the bottom. And then I think they each had 3 slices--DD eating the cream, DS eating the strawberries and jam, and DB eating it all. It was quite the party.
But then, 16 is quite a birthday.
-=-=-=
My Strawberry Shortcake Birthday Cake
1 box white cake, with ingredients to make it
1 pint heavy whipping cream
1 jar all-fruit strawberry jam
fresh strawberries, sliced
Bake cake in two 9" rounds according to instructions. Cool completely.
Whip heavy cream with sugar to taste (I like it less sweet so the cream flavor comes through).
Spread jam on bottom cake layer. Smooth some cream over this. Top with second round.
Cover with remaining whipped cream. Decorate with strawberries.
Serve immediately and keep remainders in refrigerator.
Suburban Sadness
For my local readers: isn't it sad that the most exciting thing to happen around here recently is the opening of that new grocery store?
But, oh, it is a very nice, clean, friendly, well-stocked store . . .
I need to get out more (and not there!).
But, oh, it is a very nice, clean, friendly, well-stocked store . . .
I need to get out more (and not there!).
Yahrzeit
Today is the first anniversary of the death of our beloved cat Morgan.
And so we mark his life with fond memories and the lighting of candles.
And watching our two cats, Albus and Hermione, chase each other and their favorite mice toys.
And so we mark his life with fond memories and the lighting of candles.
And watching our two cats, Albus and Hermione, chase each other and their favorite mice toys.
Monday, February 25, 2008
The Play's the Thing
A recent article in the NYTimes entitled "Taking Play Seriously" (which, for the life of me, I can't get the Times page to pull up; it was on Feb. 17, 2008) examined the scientific community's understanding of play, both the sympathizers and the skeptics. While I skimmed much of the discussion of various experiments (do we really need to euthanize animals to research this?), I was interested in discussions of the role of play, especially dramatic or fantasy play.
Because the kiddos love to play. We are even emerging from parallel play to playing together. For example, a new favorite game is "office." One child waits in the hallway while the other goes into the office. The outside child knocks and receives a hello from the inside child, who invites him in. The visitor says, "it's a beautiful office." And the office occupant comments that she is working. And then they switch, and do this ad infinitem.
Another one: they spread my striped blanket (the cat isn't the only one who loves it) on the floor, strip to their diapers, and "swim." They used to do this without the blanket (or the diapers!) on the kitchen floor but changed the game when Gommie was here. Now they dive or splash off a toddler bed into the ocean, where they swim, sometimes with DD riding on DS who is a dolphin (this, he says, is "hard work"). They take turns diving. And when Gommie and I were watching, from the mud, apparently, they began to address us as the "audience," and make announcements like, "Audience, take your seats, I am going to make a really big splash."
They love building houses with my couch cushions. DS especially likes doing this, creating a house with a gate and a backyard. Today we even added a sidewalk made with all the little throw pillows. When the house is made out of pillows in the middle of the floor, instead of in the couch itself, they call it a "chinny-chin-chin" house, like the 3 little pigs.
They've been polar bears in the leafless burning bush outside that is currently covered in snow, as well as polar bears in their toddler beds covered with canopies or tents. They go on airplane or train trips, particularly to Chicago, by lining up the kitchen chairs or the paper blocks. They have lots of picnics and tea parties and birthday parties. They especially like making pies in the backyard with leaves stacked high in my planters and baking in the bathtub and calling the bubble bath "whipped cream." They have a collection of hats, scarves, and bandanas that allow them to go on safari, drive a train, be a construction worker. They use their hands to create imaginary instruments which they play in their parades (though, sometimes, they use our real collection of instruments too). They build Lincoln Log, Mega Block, and cardboard brick houses for their little plastic animals. We drew Dinosaur Land and the Fairy Garden on our new magnetic chalkboard wall and they spent an afternoon having dinosaurs and fairies visit back and forth across the river with the bridge. And sometimes, they even play doctor and check each other for tummyaches.
It's this amazing, fun, yet serious world that I am sometimes invited to join, but oftentimes watch quietly from the outside, purely enthralled with what they come up with. DD and DS seem to share the task of coming up with the game, but it is DD who usually sets the rules, even if it's a game DS originated. And she is more likely the one to shift gears and take them on to the next level or another game. Sometimes, the play is inspired by what we've read or seen on tv, and I'm okay with that. They use it as a starting point for their own play script instead of reenacting what they've seen or read. I certainly remember my days of playing Star Wars or Little House on the Prairie, borrowing locales and characters I knew for my very own stories (mind you, I didn't mix the two. And it strikes me now that they were very different games. LHOTP was always outside, while SW could be either in or out). I could spend hours playing this way as a kid, by myself or with neighbohood friends. When my own kiddos are fully engaged in this kind of play, they forget to fight, often perfectly perform turn-taking and sharing, and sometimes forget to have midday snack. It really is this incredible other realm.
And I'm lucky they invite me back into it now and then.
-=-=-=-
DP's own reading of the article netted something I didn't find (I wonder if it was the same article?): the contrast of imaginative play with toy-play. The appearance of specific toys for play, first advertised by Mattel during the Mickey Mouse Club in the 1950s, she said, ended play-for-play's sake and made it all toy-based and more material. It occurs to me that almost none of the games I mentioned above require any kind of specific toy, only "open" toys like blocks and scarves and pillows. I hope we can keep it that way.
Because the kiddos love to play. We are even emerging from parallel play to playing together. For example, a new favorite game is "office." One child waits in the hallway while the other goes into the office. The outside child knocks and receives a hello from the inside child, who invites him in. The visitor says, "it's a beautiful office." And the office occupant comments that she is working. And then they switch, and do this ad infinitem.
Another one: they spread my striped blanket (the cat isn't the only one who loves it) on the floor, strip to their diapers, and "swim." They used to do this without the blanket (or the diapers!) on the kitchen floor but changed the game when Gommie was here. Now they dive or splash off a toddler bed into the ocean, where they swim, sometimes with DD riding on DS who is a dolphin (this, he says, is "hard work"). They take turns diving. And when Gommie and I were watching, from the mud, apparently, they began to address us as the "audience," and make announcements like, "Audience, take your seats, I am going to make a really big splash."
They love building houses with my couch cushions. DS especially likes doing this, creating a house with a gate and a backyard. Today we even added a sidewalk made with all the little throw pillows. When the house is made out of pillows in the middle of the floor, instead of in the couch itself, they call it a "chinny-chin-chin" house, like the 3 little pigs.
They've been polar bears in the leafless burning bush outside that is currently covered in snow, as well as polar bears in their toddler beds covered with canopies or tents. They go on airplane or train trips, particularly to Chicago, by lining up the kitchen chairs or the paper blocks. They have lots of picnics and tea parties and birthday parties. They especially like making pies in the backyard with leaves stacked high in my planters and baking in the bathtub and calling the bubble bath "whipped cream." They have a collection of hats, scarves, and bandanas that allow them to go on safari, drive a train, be a construction worker. They use their hands to create imaginary instruments which they play in their parades (though, sometimes, they use our real collection of instruments too). They build Lincoln Log, Mega Block, and cardboard brick houses for their little plastic animals. We drew Dinosaur Land and the Fairy Garden on our new magnetic chalkboard wall and they spent an afternoon having dinosaurs and fairies visit back and forth across the river with the bridge. And sometimes, they even play doctor and check each other for tummyaches.
It's this amazing, fun, yet serious world that I am sometimes invited to join, but oftentimes watch quietly from the outside, purely enthralled with what they come up with. DD and DS seem to share the task of coming up with the game, but it is DD who usually sets the rules, even if it's a game DS originated. And she is more likely the one to shift gears and take them on to the next level or another game. Sometimes, the play is inspired by what we've read or seen on tv, and I'm okay with that. They use it as a starting point for their own play script instead of reenacting what they've seen or read. I certainly remember my days of playing Star Wars or Little House on the Prairie, borrowing locales and characters I knew for my very own stories (mind you, I didn't mix the two. And it strikes me now that they were very different games. LHOTP was always outside, while SW could be either in or out). I could spend hours playing this way as a kid, by myself or with neighbohood friends. When my own kiddos are fully engaged in this kind of play, they forget to fight, often perfectly perform turn-taking and sharing, and sometimes forget to have midday snack. It really is this incredible other realm.
And I'm lucky they invite me back into it now and then.
-=-=-=-
DP's own reading of the article netted something I didn't find (I wonder if it was the same article?): the contrast of imaginative play with toy-play. The appearance of specific toys for play, first advertised by Mattel during the Mickey Mouse Club in the 1950s, she said, ended play-for-play's sake and made it all toy-based and more material. It occurs to me that almost none of the games I mentioned above require any kind of specific toy, only "open" toys like blocks and scarves and pillows. I hope we can keep it that way.
Coffee and Sympathy
As I mentioned earlier, I am always somewhat depressed when my mom leaves (hi, mom! so sorry to hear you took home some kind of Yankee revenge stomach flu. Ugh! Get better soon!). There are usually tears, but only recently have the kiddos even noticed.
Yesterday, as I let fall a few tears after Mom left, DD actually hauled her step stool to the bookcase and dragged down the good tissues so she could bring me one. She then proceeded to wipe my face, looking deeply and seriously into my eyes with her pretty, dark, round ones. "Are you better now?" DS reminded me to drink my coffee because that always helps.
Then last night, I got a little teary at bedtime as the kids rehashed "Gommie's not here," then "No, Gommie went home to Pop and puggy puppy in Texas." DD came over and gave me a kiss, "that will make you happy." DS added his own hug and kiss, "now you won't be sad." Both wanted to know if I was "happy now?"
And of course, with that kind of love, who wouldn't be?
Yesterday, as I let fall a few tears after Mom left, DD actually hauled her step stool to the bookcase and dragged down the good tissues so she could bring me one. She then proceeded to wipe my face, looking deeply and seriously into my eyes with her pretty, dark, round ones. "Are you better now?" DS reminded me to drink my coffee because that always helps.
Then last night, I got a little teary at bedtime as the kids rehashed "Gommie's not here," then "No, Gommie went home to Pop and puggy puppy in Texas." DD came over and gave me a kiss, "that will make you happy." DS added his own hug and kiss, "now you won't be sad." Both wanted to know if I was "happy now?"
And of course, with that kind of love, who wouldn't be?
Naming Theory
I have a new theory, involving names of lesbians in couples:
The woman with the "girlier" (more stereotypically feminine) name is the more butch of the two.
We counted 6 separate examples tonight.
And yes, that goes for us as well . . . . make of it what you will.
The woman with the "girlier" (more stereotypically feminine) name is the more butch of the two.
We counted 6 separate examples tonight.
And yes, that goes for us as well . . . . make of it what you will.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
It's Oscar Time
We're watching the Oscars. Haven't seen a single nominated movie, though we have Elizabeth the Golden Age from Netflix but didn't finish it with Mom here. Mom left today. We had a wonderful visit.
I'm always a little depressed after she goes. So, more later. Lots to tell.
I'm always a little depressed after she goes. So, more later. Lots to tell.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
I Think She's Right
DP suggested to me yesterday that our cat Albus might have had a striped mom. You see, she had seen him kneading my new striped fleece blanket, something he hasn't done anywhere else.
And last night around 2 a.m., I decided she was right. Albus curled up behind my legs, kneading and purring and rubbing around, the happiest cat in the world. He doesn't usually sleep on my side. But I had just spread out my new striped blanket on my side recently and he seems very attached to it.
Maybe his feline mommy was striped. His nighttime people mommy sure is.
-=-=-=
Fleece Blanket Pattern
2-3 yards of 2 different kinds of fleece (I usually choose one patterned fleece and one complementary color)
sharp scissors
measuring tape
Wash fleece. Cut off selvage edges.
Lay one fleece piece out on the floor, face down. Lay the other fleece piece on top of that, face up. Straighten so they line up without any huge wrinkles.
Cut 4" square piece out of each corner (a friend of mine has a swatch piece 4" square that she uses just for the corners). The spread out your measuring tape along one side and make 4" cuts every 1". This will give you fringe 4" long and 1" wide (it's easiest if you stretch the measuring tape from corner to corner and cut upto the tape every one inch).
Tie the top and bottom fringe together. I like to tie them in a knot so that the contrasting color is on each side (i.e. patterened side with solid fringe and vice versa). It's best to finish one whole side at a time but it is not necessary to finish the blanket in one sitting.
I'm not very good at writing patterns, so if you want to see another version with slightly different measurements, check here.
And last night around 2 a.m., I decided she was right. Albus curled up behind my legs, kneading and purring and rubbing around, the happiest cat in the world. He doesn't usually sleep on my side. But I had just spread out my new striped blanket on my side recently and he seems very attached to it.
Maybe his feline mommy was striped. His nighttime people mommy sure is.
-=-=-=
Fleece Blanket Pattern
2-3 yards of 2 different kinds of fleece (I usually choose one patterned fleece and one complementary color)
sharp scissors
measuring tape
Wash fleece. Cut off selvage edges.
Lay one fleece piece out on the floor, face down. Lay the other fleece piece on top of that, face up. Straighten so they line up without any huge wrinkles.
Cut 4" square piece out of each corner (a friend of mine has a swatch piece 4" square that she uses just for the corners). The spread out your measuring tape along one side and make 4" cuts every 1". This will give you fringe 4" long and 1" wide (it's easiest if you stretch the measuring tape from corner to corner and cut upto the tape every one inch).
Tie the top and bottom fringe together. I like to tie them in a knot so that the contrasting color is on each side (i.e. patterened side with solid fringe and vice versa). It's best to finish one whole side at a time but it is not necessary to finish the blanket in one sitting.
I'm not very good at writing patterns, so if you want to see another version with slightly different measurements, check here.
Friday, February 22, 2008
You Can Eat This Yellow Snow
We have had a huge snowstorm here in CT, by recent snow standards (though nothing like the blizzard of '93 in NYC, which is my benchmark). It was what Pop asked for this Christmas--maybe he didn't specify that he wanted it at Christmas and wanted to see it himself. He's in Texas while Gommie is here.
We just made maple syrup candy. I heated the syrup while DP and Gommie got the kids outside and filled a cookie sheet with snow. Then I ran outside and drizzled the syrup in the snow in ribbons, something I first read about in Little House on the Prairie (or one of the series, maybe Little House in the Big Woods?). The candy cooled and turned crunchy immediately.
And DD has carried a piece stuck to her glove for an hour, biting and licking it as she went along. We're back inside now, to get more candy, since she ran out of her piece while we were making three generations of snow angels--Gommie, Mommy, and DD. DS, who only just tasted one piece of candy, was inside playing the piano with Mama.
-=-=-=-=
Maple Syrup Snow Candy
1 cup maple syrup (Grade B tastes better)
½ tablespoon butter
Combine maple syrup and butter. Heat to 260°F (hardball stage). Watch carefully because syrup scorches at this temperature. Remove from heat.
Pour into a ribbon onto snow, lift, and eat. For non-snow areas, pour carefully onto a cookie sheet. Make any pattern you want.
Store candy in a dry and tightly sealed container.
Circle Round
We just made maple syrup candy. I heated the syrup while DP and Gommie got the kids outside and filled a cookie sheet with snow. Then I ran outside and drizzled the syrup in the snow in ribbons, something I first read about in Little House on the Prairie (or one of the series, maybe Little House in the Big Woods?). The candy cooled and turned crunchy immediately.
And DD has carried a piece stuck to her glove for an hour, biting and licking it as she went along. We're back inside now, to get more candy, since she ran out of her piece while we were making three generations of snow angels--Gommie, Mommy, and DD. DS, who only just tasted one piece of candy, was inside playing the piano with Mama.
-=-=-=-=
Maple Syrup Snow Candy
1 cup maple syrup (Grade B tastes better)
½ tablespoon butter
Combine maple syrup and butter. Heat to 260°F (hardball stage). Watch carefully because syrup scorches at this temperature. Remove from heat.
Pour into a ribbon onto snow, lift, and eat. For non-snow areas, pour carefully onto a cookie sheet. Make any pattern you want.
Store candy in a dry and tightly sealed container.
Circle Round
Because The New York Times Said So
Recently, the NYTimes ran an article about date night, saying that couples should do something out of the ordinary if they really want date night to rekindle the romance. Ah, date night. What people without kids do every week that people with kids only dream of. Or do rarely. Our own success at saving a monthly date night have been below average. I'd give us a C. We go when my mom is here, about 4 times a year, and we've gone once with a real live honest-to-goondess babysitter. We do have admirable and inspiring friends who go out (until the third trimester of their pregnancy--and they're still in labor!) every month on the 11th, their anniversary. We could do that, on the 23rd (when we got together in August 1997) or on the 9th (when we made it legal in Connecticut in 2005), or both since they are two weeks apart. But something often gets in the way. Now, that said, we are very lucky that the kiddos are usually in bed by 6:30, no later than 7:15 pm, and so can watch a movie and have some real quality time every night (if we plan on it, rescheduling laundry or bills or the like). But many nights are for chores.
Not this week. We've had two dates. TWO dates. In one week. On Tuesday night, we went for Indian food. We're pretty much Indian food novices. DP has had a lot of Thai, Chinese, Korean, and Vietnamese but not Indian. I think she often feels that Indian is wrong--Thai spices used in odd combinations with different ingredients--but with her office catering in so much Indian, it's starting to grow on her. So, we went out for Indian, which is so much better than take-out. Starting with some vegetables fritters--I liked the spinach ones and the potato ones that I dipped in that sweet/sour tamarind sauce, we sipped on our favorite mango lassis and nibbled on the crispy, spiced pappadum. For dinner, I had malai kofta, a cheese and vegetable dumpling in a creamy, sweet, and mildly spicy, cashew and almond sauce. The dumpling tasted so freshly made; the ingredients really sang. And I love that sauce. DP had chicken madras--the "spiciest chicken dish on the menu--but then she was raised on Thai food, and, while she can't quite eat chilies straight up like her mom, she holds her own. But she was sweating while she murmured enjoyment. She had some garlic and cilantro nann while I had plain naan (I'd ordered Peshwari naan, which has the raisins and nuts and is my favorite, but the plain naan went just as well). And then we moved on to these incredible desserts--I can't tell you the names because they aren't on the take-out menu I'm consulting--a sweet yellow lentil and fruit pudding kind of like a rice pudding with some coconut flakes on top and the most amazing fried dough balls in a clear, sweet rose syrup, perhaps with pistachios. Those dough balls--wow! Indeed, you could say that about the whole meal.
For our second date night, we got a whole afternoon! This was brave of Gommie because the kiddos would be awake for some of it (but at least I got the nap started for her). DP took off work early and we headed to New Haven for tea and an art museum. Tea at Celtica, the Irish shop in town, was good. Not great. Portions were small for the price but we liked the Irish brown bread used for the sandwiches--a hearty change from mushy white bread (which I also like). And there were (frozen, store-bought) cream puffs and scones with whipped cream and a very nice strawberry jam. With some Earl Grey tea. And we reminisced about all of our other teas--in Chicago at the Palmer House for Christmas; at Polly's in Marlborough; at a National Trust shop in York; at Fortnum and Mason's; at that place I can never remember the name of in York with the fat rascals (yes, we had tea twice that day!); at Alice's Tea cup in NYC; at our favorite place in CT, the British Tea Shoppe in Guildford or Branford or Madison (I never remember that either). And that's just tea I've had with her (she's become quite an anglophile in ten years). Lambeth took me to some marvelous places in England, especially that manor house with the incredible tea. I really love the ritual of tea, even when the spread is mediocre.
Then to the Yale Center for British Art. Oh my, a special Orientalism show. Like I haven't had enough of that in my years at that museum in town. But at least I didn't have to read the labels, having written several myself on Orientalism and the West, Edward Said, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, what a harem really is, and the like. I actually wanted to see the permanent collection, post 1850, not the special exhibition, but we did head to it first. And I really liked it. I like John Frederick Lewis's depictions of the interiors of houses, especially the light streaming through stained glass windows and mashrabiyya, or turned wooden screens. I actually liked his painting of a harem woman in the garden, a very English rose garden with trellis, best. My taste is not always fine. But I know what I like. DP liked David Roberts's sketchbooks best, mainly because she likes to sketch. But there is something vibrant and immediate about such works. We were very disappointed to discover that the post-1850 works--by my favorite PRB, Alma-Tadema, and Victorian genre painters--were not on display, so we enjoyed the Elizabethan through 1850 works, particularly the Canalettos, the really early and elaborate portraits, and the Constables (which I prefer to Turner). It was like going back in time (my lifetime, not those of the paintings, though that happens too) to wander the museum as a childless adult, though I did wonder when we could bring the children and what they would like.
Afterwards, we hit the Asian grocery to restock, to pick up treats for the Lunar New Year playgroup today (that we skipped because we're getting 4-8" of snow today), and to get some bubble tea. I like bubble tea (coconut, not almond). And the coconut buns we picked up. DP who is often the exact opposite of me in food tastes got some seaweed salad and kimchee. It was a nice denouement to a delightful afternoon.
The New York Times was right, it felt really good to do something different and out of the ordinary. Even if it is what we used to do all the time.
-=-=-=-
Mango Lassi
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
Not this week. We've had two dates. TWO dates. In one week. On Tuesday night, we went for Indian food. We're pretty much Indian food novices. DP has had a lot of Thai, Chinese, Korean, and Vietnamese but not Indian. I think she often feels that Indian is wrong--Thai spices used in odd combinations with different ingredients--but with her office catering in so much Indian, it's starting to grow on her. So, we went out for Indian, which is so much better than take-out. Starting with some vegetables fritters--I liked the spinach ones and the potato ones that I dipped in that sweet/sour tamarind sauce, we sipped on our favorite mango lassis and nibbled on the crispy, spiced pappadum. For dinner, I had malai kofta, a cheese and vegetable dumpling in a creamy, sweet, and mildly spicy, cashew and almond sauce. The dumpling tasted so freshly made; the ingredients really sang. And I love that sauce. DP had chicken madras--the "spiciest chicken dish on the menu--but then she was raised on Thai food, and, while she can't quite eat chilies straight up like her mom, she holds her own. But she was sweating while she murmured enjoyment. She had some garlic and cilantro nann while I had plain naan (I'd ordered Peshwari naan, which has the raisins and nuts and is my favorite, but the plain naan went just as well). And then we moved on to these incredible desserts--I can't tell you the names because they aren't on the take-out menu I'm consulting--a sweet yellow lentil and fruit pudding kind of like a rice pudding with some coconut flakes on top and the most amazing fried dough balls in a clear, sweet rose syrup, perhaps with pistachios. Those dough balls--wow! Indeed, you could say that about the whole meal.
For our second date night, we got a whole afternoon! This was brave of Gommie because the kiddos would be awake for some of it (but at least I got the nap started for her). DP took off work early and we headed to New Haven for tea and an art museum. Tea at Celtica, the Irish shop in town, was good. Not great. Portions were small for the price but we liked the Irish brown bread used for the sandwiches--a hearty change from mushy white bread (which I also like). And there were (frozen, store-bought) cream puffs and scones with whipped cream and a very nice strawberry jam. With some Earl Grey tea. And we reminisced about all of our other teas--in Chicago at the Palmer House for Christmas; at Polly's in Marlborough; at a National Trust shop in York; at Fortnum and Mason's; at that place I can never remember the name of in York with the fat rascals (yes, we had tea twice that day!); at Alice's Tea cup in NYC; at our favorite place in CT, the British Tea Shoppe in Guildford or Branford or Madison (I never remember that either). And that's just tea I've had with her (she's become quite an anglophile in ten years). Lambeth took me to some marvelous places in England, especially that manor house with the incredible tea. I really love the ritual of tea, even when the spread is mediocre.
Then to the Yale Center for British Art. Oh my, a special Orientalism show. Like I haven't had enough of that in my years at that museum in town. But at least I didn't have to read the labels, having written several myself on Orientalism and the West, Edward Said, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, what a harem really is, and the like. I actually wanted to see the permanent collection, post 1850, not the special exhibition, but we did head to it first. And I really liked it. I like John Frederick Lewis's depictions of the interiors of houses, especially the light streaming through stained glass windows and mashrabiyya, or turned wooden screens. I actually liked his painting of a harem woman in the garden, a very English rose garden with trellis, best. My taste is not always fine. But I know what I like. DP liked David Roberts's sketchbooks best, mainly because she likes to sketch. But there is something vibrant and immediate about such works. We were very disappointed to discover that the post-1850 works--by my favorite PRB, Alma-Tadema, and Victorian genre painters--were not on display, so we enjoyed the Elizabethan through 1850 works, particularly the Canalettos, the really early and elaborate portraits, and the Constables (which I prefer to Turner). It was like going back in time (my lifetime, not those of the paintings, though that happens too) to wander the museum as a childless adult, though I did wonder when we could bring the children and what they would like.
Afterwards, we hit the Asian grocery to restock, to pick up treats for the Lunar New Year playgroup today (that we skipped because we're getting 4-8" of snow today), and to get some bubble tea. I like bubble tea (coconut, not almond). And the coconut buns we picked up. DP who is often the exact opposite of me in food tastes got some seaweed salad and kimchee. It was a nice denouement to a delightful afternoon.
The New York Times was right, it felt really good to do something different and out of the ordinary. Even if it is what we used to do all the time.
-=-=-=-
Mango Lassi
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
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Dinner Plans
Gommie and I have been brainstorming about meal planning and dinner ideas. Things have deteriorated here at Chez Twin and meals before her arrival have largely been uninspired or imported (i.e. take-out).
So, we've come up with a plan. To avoid ambitious planning, I'm going to grocery shop twice a week. This allows me to adapt the menu to our changing tastes and needs, instead of buying a week out. I can also stock up again on fresh fruits and veggies. In the past, I've picked recipes that we just never get to because of altered circumstances and so there are some strange ingredients in my cabinets for recipes I can't even remember anymore. I'm going to keep the menus very simple. For example, we made two new dishes with Gommie this week: Salisbury Steak and Shepherd's Pie. DS liked both; DD liked the first but not the second--she just doesn't like casserole-type foods (i.e. dishes where the foods are combined). So dishes need to be separate, much like the build-it-yourself I blogged about recently (those are still good ideas but I hadn't gotten to implementing them repeatedly). Lastly, we're going to have our big meal at lunch. This helps in two ways: the kids are always hungry at lunch and will therefore eat it (they are not always hungry at dinner) and they play better in the morning which gives me more time to cook (without having to resort to big crockpot recipes everyday).
We'll see if that helps. It's ironic that I love reading and writing about food and recipes but have such trouble getting dinner on the table. I want to combine the two desires successfully.
-=-=-=-
Salisbury Steak
1 lb ground turkey
1 packet dry onion soup mix, divided
5-10 saltine crackers, crushed
1 egg, lightly beaten
salt, pepper to taste
1 package mushrooms, sliced
1 onion, sliced
1 can chicken broth
Combine ground turkey with 3 tablespoons dry onion soup mix, crackers, egg. Form into patties. Brown in skillet. Add mushrooms, onion, chicken broth, and remaining dry onion soup mix. Simmer until done, seasoning to taste. Serve with mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables.
Gommie
Shepherd's Pie
1 lb ground turkey
1 package frozen mixed vegetables
mashed potatoes
chicken broth OR leftover Salisbury Steak gravy with mushrooms and onions
Brown turkey. Add veggies to heat through. Pour into baking dish. Cover with mashed potatoes. Bake at 350F until bubbly.
Gommie and Me
So, we've come up with a plan. To avoid ambitious planning, I'm going to grocery shop twice a week. This allows me to adapt the menu to our changing tastes and needs, instead of buying a week out. I can also stock up again on fresh fruits and veggies. In the past, I've picked recipes that we just never get to because of altered circumstances and so there are some strange ingredients in my cabinets for recipes I can't even remember anymore. I'm going to keep the menus very simple. For example, we made two new dishes with Gommie this week: Salisbury Steak and Shepherd's Pie. DS liked both; DD liked the first but not the second--she just doesn't like casserole-type foods (i.e. dishes where the foods are combined). So dishes need to be separate, much like the build-it-yourself I blogged about recently (those are still good ideas but I hadn't gotten to implementing them repeatedly). Lastly, we're going to have our big meal at lunch. This helps in two ways: the kids are always hungry at lunch and will therefore eat it (they are not always hungry at dinner) and they play better in the morning which gives me more time to cook (without having to resort to big crockpot recipes everyday).
We'll see if that helps. It's ironic that I love reading and writing about food and recipes but have such trouble getting dinner on the table. I want to combine the two desires successfully.
-=-=-=-
Salisbury Steak
1 lb ground turkey
1 packet dry onion soup mix, divided
5-10 saltine crackers, crushed
1 egg, lightly beaten
salt, pepper to taste
1 package mushrooms, sliced
1 onion, sliced
1 can chicken broth
Combine ground turkey with 3 tablespoons dry onion soup mix, crackers, egg. Form into patties. Brown in skillet. Add mushrooms, onion, chicken broth, and remaining dry onion soup mix. Simmer until done, seasoning to taste. Serve with mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables.
Gommie
Shepherd's Pie
1 lb ground turkey
1 package frozen mixed vegetables
mashed potatoes
chicken broth OR leftover Salisbury Steak gravy with mushrooms and onions
Brown turkey. Add veggies to heat through. Pour into baking dish. Cover with mashed potatoes. Bake at 350F until bubbly.
Gommie and Me
Breakfast of Champions
I have a new breakfast favorite: baked oatmeal. I had never heard of such a thing before a breakfast at church a few months ago. It's marvelous--hearty, warm, filling, not too sweet. And today we made some.
Today at 6 a.m.
That's right, the kiddos were up early. DS had a nightmare (not sure what exactly) but couldn't get back to sleep and DD had gotten up during his initial distress. At 5:05 a.m. this morning. A leaky diaper, recalling that Gommie was in the house, a desire to watch THAT show combined to end the night even though it was nowhere near morning time, really.
And so I baked oatmeal. I used a WW recipe, but also include here the original oatmeal from church (which requires eggnog, a tough find this time of year). Even Gommie liked it (it's not too far off South Beach if you use Splenda)!
-=-=-=
Baked Oatmeal
2 cups uncooked oatmeal
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup skim milk
1/2 cup egg beaters, or 3 egg whites (we used 2 eggs)
1/2 cup unsweetened applesauce
1/4 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tbsp ground cinnamon
Add chopped nuts, raisins, if desired
Combine ingredients. Bake in sprayed 8" square pan and bake at 350 deg. 35-45 min. Keeps well in refrig. or freezer. Eat cold or warm. Great for quick breakfast. 6 servings
Holiday Baked Oatmeal
1 cup eggnog
3 cups oatmeal
3/4 cup brown sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup chunky applesauce
1/4 cup honey
1 tsp vanilla
2 eggs
1/2 cup raisins
Preheat oven to 350. Mix oatmeal, brown sugar, baking powder, cinnamon, nutmeg and salt together in a bowl.In another bowl mix Eggnog, applesauce, honey, vanilla and eggs. Pour the wet mix into the dry mix bowl and combine them. Add raisins. Coat a 9 X 9 baking pan with non stick spray. Pour the mixture into the pan and bakefor 25-30 minutes. (I doubled the recipe and used a 9 X 13 pan) ENJOY!
Today at 6 a.m.
That's right, the kiddos were up early. DS had a nightmare (not sure what exactly) but couldn't get back to sleep and DD had gotten up during his initial distress. At 5:05 a.m. this morning. A leaky diaper, recalling that Gommie was in the house, a desire to watch THAT show combined to end the night even though it was nowhere near morning time, really.
And so I baked oatmeal. I used a WW recipe, but also include here the original oatmeal from church (which requires eggnog, a tough find this time of year). Even Gommie liked it (it's not too far off South Beach if you use Splenda)!
-=-=-=
Baked Oatmeal
2 cups uncooked oatmeal
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup skim milk
1/2 cup egg beaters, or 3 egg whites (we used 2 eggs)
1/2 cup unsweetened applesauce
1/4 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tbsp ground cinnamon
Add chopped nuts, raisins, if desired
Combine ingredients. Bake in sprayed 8" square pan and bake at 350 deg. 35-45 min. Keeps well in refrig. or freezer. Eat cold or warm. Great for quick breakfast. 6 servings
Holiday Baked Oatmeal
1 cup eggnog
3 cups oatmeal
3/4 cup brown sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup chunky applesauce
1/4 cup honey
1 tsp vanilla
2 eggs
1/2 cup raisins
Preheat oven to 350. Mix oatmeal, brown sugar, baking powder, cinnamon, nutmeg and salt together in a bowl.In another bowl mix Eggnog, applesauce, honey, vanilla and eggs. Pour the wet mix into the dry mix bowl and combine them. Add raisins. Coat a 9 X 9 baking pan with non stick spray. Pour the mixture into the pan and bakefor 25-30 minutes. (I doubled the recipe and used a 9 X 13 pan) ENJOY!
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
It's My Party
We had a little party today to celebrate Gommie's visit. Several friends came over for a fondue luncheon (thanks for the pots, J!). It was a delightful and chaotic day.
I know, right, you're thinking, "fondue?" But I saw an article in the NYTimes recently and decided to give it a go, though I didn't use their recipes nor have I actually had much fondue in my life. But it's not so different from dipping chips in queso . . . .
DD wore her Princess dress, with a red heart sweatshirt over it to protect it from food. Which she devoured for the whole time. First, she dipped Oreos in chocolate fondue. But she wouldn't eat the cookie--she'd lick the chocolate off the cookie and then start all over. Later in the day, however, we found her seated at the kitchen table with Oreo cookie pieces strewn everywhere. But with no cream filling. Because she had licked and scraped it all off. Where did she learn that? When asked, she said I taught her. But I don't eat Oreos that way, never have. DD also loved the frosting off one of the maple cupcakes--I think she cleared off at least one.
DS was most interested in marshmallows--of which I imagine he had about a dozen . . . big ones--and in the strawberries. No chocolate. No cookies. No cake. Just marshmallows and strawberries. And he was in heaven.
The adults were a bit more wide-ranging in their tastes. We dipped bread in the cheese fondue, as well as sesame sticks, cauliflower, broccoli, and carrots. For the chocolate, there was pound cake (my favorite), pretzels (my second favorite), Oreos, graham crackers, animal crackers, marshmallows, Stella Doro cookies, strawberries, and the hands-down favorite, TWINKIES. I realized later than Nutter Butter cookies would have been good, if we hadn't needed to worry about peanuts. And friends brought a great spinach salad, banana bread, and the aforementioned cupcakes. Plus some pink ribbon sugar cookies in honor of my friend M. Thanks, T.
All in all it was a great party. I had cups for the fondue, instead of plates, because I thought it would contain drips better, which must have been true because the floor was relatively clean. That, and the adults just leaned over the pots! Gommie had a good time with all the babies and seeing old and new faces. And I had a few different friends over in addition to some usual playgroup ones. It's been a rough time in my circle of friends--absences of those usually present, illnesses and deaths of loved ones, the general and genuine ennui of winter--so it was comforting to be together again after about a month of separation. And fondue--it's goofy, indulgently sensual, and communal nature--was the perfect food.
And we loved having leftover fondue for dinner . . . .
-=-=-=-=
Cheese Fondue (the real recipe)
3 cups coarsely shredded Gruyere or Swiss cheese (12 ounces)
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 clove garlic, halved
1 ¼ cups dry white wine (can use ¼ cup chicken broth or water for ¼ cup wine)
1 tablespoon kirsch or dry sherry
dash ground nutmeg
dash pepper
dippers (cubed French bread or Italian bread or raw vegetables)
Bring shredded cheese to room temperature. Toss flour with cheese; set aside. Rub inside of a fondue pot with garlic halves; discard garlic. Set pot aside.
In a medium saucepan, heat wine over medium heat till small bubbles rise to surface. Just before wine boils, reduce heat to low and stir in cheese mixture, a little at a time, stirring constantly and making sure cheese melts before adding more. Stir till mixture bubbles gently.
Stir in kirsch or sherry, nutmeg, and pepper. Transfer cheese mixture to the fondue pot; keep mixture bubbling gently over a fondue burner. Serve with bread cubes or vegetables. Makes 5 servings.
Better Homes and Garden
My adaptation:
1 1/2 cups chicken stock
3 bags of Sargento Swiss and Gruyere cheese
Boil chicken stock. Add cheese gradually. Serve with dippers.
Chocolate Fondue (the real recipe)
Mexican-Style Chocolate Fondue From Food Network Kitchens
1 cup heavy cream (see Cook's note)
4 cinnamon sticks
8 ounces finely chopped semisweet chocolate
Dippers:Cubed pound cake
Mini-bananas
Fresh or dried orange slices
Fresh or dried pears
Almond cookies
Coconut strips
Strawberries
In small saucepan over medium heat, bring the cream and cinnamonsticks just to boil. Remove from the heat and set aside to steep for15 minutes. Remove the cinnamon and discard.Put the chocolate in a medium bowl. Bring the cream to a simmer, pourit over the chocolate, and let stand for 5 minutes. Stir the chocolatemixture until completely melted and smooth. Transfer the chocolatemixture to a fondue pot, and keep warm over a low sterno flame or in alarge ramekin wrapped with a cloth napkin to keep it warm. Serve witha selection of the dippers.
Cook's note: This makes a thick fondue, for a thinner sauce, simplyadd more cream
Copyright 2003 Television Food Network, G.P. All rights reserved
My adaptation:
1 huge bag of chocolate chips
probably about 1/4 cup heavy cream
4 cinnamon sticks
Melt chocolate chips in heavy cream over medium heat. Add cinnamon sticks and warm through. Serve with dippers
I know, right, you're thinking, "fondue?" But I saw an article in the NYTimes recently and decided to give it a go, though I didn't use their recipes nor have I actually had much fondue in my life. But it's not so different from dipping chips in queso . . . .
DD wore her Princess dress, with a red heart sweatshirt over it to protect it from food. Which she devoured for the whole time. First, she dipped Oreos in chocolate fondue. But she wouldn't eat the cookie--she'd lick the chocolate off the cookie and then start all over. Later in the day, however, we found her seated at the kitchen table with Oreo cookie pieces strewn everywhere. But with no cream filling. Because she had licked and scraped it all off. Where did she learn that? When asked, she said I taught her. But I don't eat Oreos that way, never have. DD also loved the frosting off one of the maple cupcakes--I think she cleared off at least one.
DS was most interested in marshmallows--of which I imagine he had about a dozen . . . big ones--and in the strawberries. No chocolate. No cookies. No cake. Just marshmallows and strawberries. And he was in heaven.
The adults were a bit more wide-ranging in their tastes. We dipped bread in the cheese fondue, as well as sesame sticks, cauliflower, broccoli, and carrots. For the chocolate, there was pound cake (my favorite), pretzels (my second favorite), Oreos, graham crackers, animal crackers, marshmallows, Stella Doro cookies, strawberries, and the hands-down favorite, TWINKIES. I realized later than Nutter Butter cookies would have been good, if we hadn't needed to worry about peanuts. And friends brought a great spinach salad, banana bread, and the aforementioned cupcakes. Plus some pink ribbon sugar cookies in honor of my friend M. Thanks, T.
All in all it was a great party. I had cups for the fondue, instead of plates, because I thought it would contain drips better, which must have been true because the floor was relatively clean. That, and the adults just leaned over the pots! Gommie had a good time with all the babies and seeing old and new faces. And I had a few different friends over in addition to some usual playgroup ones. It's been a rough time in my circle of friends--absences of those usually present, illnesses and deaths of loved ones, the general and genuine ennui of winter--so it was comforting to be together again after about a month of separation. And fondue--it's goofy, indulgently sensual, and communal nature--was the perfect food.
And we loved having leftover fondue for dinner . . . .
-=-=-=-=
Cheese Fondue (the real recipe)
3 cups coarsely shredded Gruyere or Swiss cheese (12 ounces)
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 clove garlic, halved
1 ¼ cups dry white wine (can use ¼ cup chicken broth or water for ¼ cup wine)
1 tablespoon kirsch or dry sherry
dash ground nutmeg
dash pepper
dippers (cubed French bread or Italian bread or raw vegetables)
Bring shredded cheese to room temperature. Toss flour with cheese; set aside. Rub inside of a fondue pot with garlic halves; discard garlic. Set pot aside.
In a medium saucepan, heat wine over medium heat till small bubbles rise to surface. Just before wine boils, reduce heat to low and stir in cheese mixture, a little at a time, stirring constantly and making sure cheese melts before adding more. Stir till mixture bubbles gently.
Stir in kirsch or sherry, nutmeg, and pepper. Transfer cheese mixture to the fondue pot; keep mixture bubbling gently over a fondue burner. Serve with bread cubes or vegetables. Makes 5 servings.
Better Homes and Garden
My adaptation:
1 1/2 cups chicken stock
3 bags of Sargento Swiss and Gruyere cheese
Boil chicken stock. Add cheese gradually. Serve with dippers.
Chocolate Fondue (the real recipe)
Mexican-Style Chocolate Fondue From Food Network Kitchens
1 cup heavy cream (see Cook's note)
4 cinnamon sticks
8 ounces finely chopped semisweet chocolate
Dippers:Cubed pound cake
Mini-bananas
Fresh or dried orange slices
Fresh or dried pears
Almond cookies
Coconut strips
Strawberries
In small saucepan over medium heat, bring the cream and cinnamonsticks just to boil. Remove from the heat and set aside to steep for15 minutes. Remove the cinnamon and discard.Put the chocolate in a medium bowl. Bring the cream to a simmer, pourit over the chocolate, and let stand for 5 minutes. Stir the chocolatemixture until completely melted and smooth. Transfer the chocolatemixture to a fondue pot, and keep warm over a low sterno flame or in alarge ramekin wrapped with a cloth napkin to keep it warm. Serve witha selection of the dippers.
Cook's note: This makes a thick fondue, for a thinner sauce, simplyadd more cream
Copyright 2003 Television Food Network, G.P. All rights reserved
My adaptation:
1 huge bag of chocolate chips
probably about 1/4 cup heavy cream
4 cinnamon sticks
Melt chocolate chips in heavy cream over medium heat. Add cinnamon sticks and warm through. Serve with dippers
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
On Death and Dying
The illness and death of our friend M in Chicago, in addition to other deaths of friends in the last year and a half, have occasioned much soul-searching. Death, dying, and the afterlife are not easy topics for me. I was raised as an atheist and am now a UU with pagan leanings, which immediately problematizes the traditional idea of heaven. Though, on an upside, I also don't believe in hell or eternal damnation. I guess that makes me more of a Universalist, believing in the salvation of all souls.
But I don't know what happens when we die. Which made DD's questions last week, when I was talking about how I had gotten many recipes from dear Miss Betty who died a year ago November, and she asked if she knew her. I told DD, no, you don't know her. She's dead. And DD asked me where she was now. And I had no answer.
When our sweet cat Morgan died, we talked to the kids about it, after discussing it with our minister and researching grieving and children on the internet. We said "dead" and "died" instead of "gone" or "asleep." We talked about how his body didn't work anymore and we wouldn't be seeing him again. But they were too young to ask where he was.
Not anymore.
And so, now "Miss Mike-yine" has died, someone they know, someone they've met. And we haven't told them yet. We have decided on a goodbye ritual, again inspired by our minister (who has helped us through a miscarriage and several deaths of family members and friends), which entails drawing some pictures of Chicago, M and K, their cats and then burning those drawings outside in a ritual mimicking her cremation and referencing Buddhist funerary traditions. We were going to do it Sunday and DP even bought a fire bucket but we spent the day at the ER with DS (whom we thought had a concussion; he doesn't, thank goodness). And on Monday it rained. Now, it will wait until the weekend. Maybe Sunday. Or not. So as not to scare or confuse them on the day that Gommie leaves.
But back to heaven. I have often wished I believed in heaven but I can't pretend to. What I do believe is that the universe is unknowable and that I need not struggle so hard to put the human experience into knowable terms or concepts. I can't know what happens after death. And I am learning to be comfortable with that. For me, our friend M, our cat Morgan, Miss Betty, and others live on in my memories and thus continue to live on through the effects they have had on me which I then pass to others. It is a kind of immortality. But there's more to it, because I address them in my head in the universe. I don't know if they hear me, but I'm comfortable with not knowing.
And in the end, it makes death and dying and the afterlife, a little less unknowable.
But I don't know what happens when we die. Which made DD's questions last week, when I was talking about how I had gotten many recipes from dear Miss Betty who died a year ago November, and she asked if she knew her. I told DD, no, you don't know her. She's dead. And DD asked me where she was now. And I had no answer.
When our sweet cat Morgan died, we talked to the kids about it, after discussing it with our minister and researching grieving and children on the internet. We said "dead" and "died" instead of "gone" or "asleep." We talked about how his body didn't work anymore and we wouldn't be seeing him again. But they were too young to ask where he was.
Not anymore.
And so, now "Miss Mike-yine" has died, someone they know, someone they've met. And we haven't told them yet. We have decided on a goodbye ritual, again inspired by our minister (who has helped us through a miscarriage and several deaths of family members and friends), which entails drawing some pictures of Chicago, M and K, their cats and then burning those drawings outside in a ritual mimicking her cremation and referencing Buddhist funerary traditions. We were going to do it Sunday and DP even bought a fire bucket but we spent the day at the ER with DS (whom we thought had a concussion; he doesn't, thank goodness). And on Monday it rained. Now, it will wait until the weekend. Maybe Sunday. Or not. So as not to scare or confuse them on the day that Gommie leaves.
But back to heaven. I have often wished I believed in heaven but I can't pretend to. What I do believe is that the universe is unknowable and that I need not struggle so hard to put the human experience into knowable terms or concepts. I can't know what happens after death. And I am learning to be comfortable with that. For me, our friend M, our cat Morgan, Miss Betty, and others live on in my memories and thus continue to live on through the effects they have had on me which I then pass to others. It is a kind of immortality. But there's more to it, because I address them in my head in the universe. I don't know if they hear me, but I'm comfortable with not knowing.
And in the end, it makes death and dying and the afterlife, a little less unknowable.
My Mom is Here
And you know what that means: fewer blog postings. I think this happens for two reasons. She's here and so we're out doing things. And she's here so I don't need to blog so she can know what we're doing. My mom is one of my main readers. I know there are a few other regular readers--my sister, my dad (when Mom prints the posts out for him) Lambeth, my cousin S in Texas, and a few women in my playgroup (mainly JG, T, and TE, but not JL!). But other than that, I don't realize who reads this blog; I don't even know how many people read it.. In fact, sometimes it's quite surprising because I don't remember that others know these stories in my posts. A woman at church apparently reads--hi grandma of 6 month old twins!--and mentioned it recently and for a second I forgot that other people can read this. So, if you know me, and you read this, let me know. I'm just curious. And kinda flattered. So, thank you!
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