Friday, November 11, 2011
Thursday, November 10, 2011
The Best Medicine
From today . . .
- the kids running to hug me when they got home
- talking to a friend on the phone
- getting email from another friend
- riding in the car and chatting with another friend
- pizza
- yellow and red fall leaves creating an orange glow outside
- seeing a hawk land on a tree branch
- watching squirrels chance each other around our tree
- "the biggest plate of nachos ever"
- coconut ice cream
- "Glee"
- listening to my audiobook as I walked on my treadmill
- the kids enthusiastically congratulating me as I sat for longer than two seconds before standing up
- play baseball in the waning light (and having each kid hit several homeruns)
- seeing Mama midday
- hot tea in my favorite mug
- two purring cats
- my new slip-on shoes (very supportive Merrills)
- receiving support and encouragement from my PT friend
- blogging
- taking pictures of the leaves
- looking forward to a three-day weekend
- thinking about our Thanksgiving menu
- weather just warm enough to wear a skirt
- my soft pink blanket
- Harry Potter Legos
- thinking about holiday cookies
- chili recipes (and finding some frozen in the fridge for dinner!)
- dance party!
- pot pie crusts
- inspiring readings (like, right now, here)
I feel so much better already.
Tug O'War
So, the medical journey continues this week, but it feels more like a tug o'war. After my doctor's rejection of my PT's diagnosis, the PT today rejected more forcefully his theory of discogenic pain. She had more than one good point, but my favorite was that I should choose the path that actually had some options, somewhere to go (which, really, my doctor doesn't). But she also admitted that my case is more complicated and that medical back-up is necessary, in the form of some specialists in, of course, NYC. This time a gynecologist, perhaps the rheumatologist, and, if I wanted, a pain psychologist. Beyond the muscle/ligament issue, she wondered about underlying causes of systemic inflammation and hormonal fluctuation (if that's what I have!)--virus? disease? hormone imblance? Yep. More things to consider and worry about. And all the while, an insistence on continuing the therapy techniques she's using which are, well, painful (TMI: internal manipulation of my coccyx. 'Nuff said).
After the appointment, which was both reassuring (because I think she's partially on the right track with the causes of pain) and disconcerting (because it hurts), I finally got in touch with my much-beloved previous physical therapist, who's been out of the country for the last six plus weeks. And she had even more good points: therapy shouldn't hurt like that and there should have been some improvement in four visits. But best of all, she observed that my new PT is trying very hard to release muscles that don't want to release without addressing the underlying cause. Which encapsulates my fear in a nutshell: I'm afraid these visits are going to cause more harm, in addition to the pain and discomfort that follow each visit. So my old PT suggested her own therapist, who is magical and, in her words, fifty times more intuitive than she is. Wow.
Sure, it's more appointments and evaluations, and new decisions about whether to see PT #1 and her specialists or PT#2 who comes highly recommended. Or meet the second while continuing with the first? More confusion. More decisions. But at least it's something.
Though, it's not much of the break I'd hoped for.
After the appointment, which was both reassuring (because I think she's partially on the right track with the causes of pain) and disconcerting (because it hurts), I finally got in touch with my much-beloved previous physical therapist, who's been out of the country for the last six plus weeks. And she had even more good points: therapy shouldn't hurt like that and there should have been some improvement in four visits. But best of all, she observed that my new PT is trying very hard to release muscles that don't want to release without addressing the underlying cause. Which encapsulates my fear in a nutshell: I'm afraid these visits are going to cause more harm, in addition to the pain and discomfort that follow each visit. So my old PT suggested her own therapist, who is magical and, in her words, fifty times more intuitive than she is. Wow.
Sure, it's more appointments and evaluations, and new decisions about whether to see PT #1 and her specialists or PT#2 who comes highly recommended. Or meet the second while continuing with the first? More confusion. More decisions. But at least it's something.
Though, it's not much of the break I'd hoped for.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Driveway by Haring
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| Sis as a Silly Soccer Player Holding Trophy (ball and goal not shown here) |
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| A Penguin for Bud |
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| Bud as an Underwear-Clad Gorilla with a Banana |
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| Hogwarts by Bud |
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| A Bunny by Sis |
The Marvelous Met
Our visit to the Met yesterday was astounding. Of course, I always love going to the Met, but this was momentous for a variety of reasons: I hadn't been since before April, when I reinjured my back, missing several exhibitions I had hoped to see; I still find standing on hard surfaces for a long time a challenge and the floors at the Met are stone; and I had long awaited the reopening of the Islamic galleries, now the Art of Arab Lands and it just opened to rave reviews (see also here for a discussion of the challenges of presenting Islamic art).
The new galleries, officially galleries for the Art of Arab Lands, Turkey, Iran, Central Asia, and Later South Asia (yes, that is way too long, but it conveys less a false monolithic entity and more the diversity that was a vast region over 1500+ years), are glorious (see here in pics from the NYTimes and the Met):
Look at those floors in the introductory gallery! (You can't see it here, but one gallery had glass lanterns hanging above the historical objects which inspired them) And the alternately warm and dramatic lighting in the other galleries! The replication of both palatial and intimate settings to engage directly with the objects! The labels were informative, but not too, and were well placed. I applaud both the designers and the curators. Of course, my favorite space, the space I remembered from eight plus years ago, before the galleries closed, the one Mama had never seen until I took her, on what was our ultimate date at the Met (followed by a walk down Fifth and dinner at Carnegie Deli one Friday night), was the Damascus Room, a receiving room bringing together so many of the arts on display, with the wonderful trickling fountain:
It was even more wonderful than I had recalled. It, and all the objects, shine in this new interpretation and installation, such an improvement over the old, shabby galleries. Warm, inviting, comfortable, were words that came to mind--these are galleries I will visit again and again, being happy to wander and linger. Now, I'm not fully conversant with the breadth and depth of the arts of Arab lands, having only touched upon them in classes on other topics or in exhibitions tangentially related. But for the purpose of our first view of the galleries and an introduction of the art to the kids, that was not a hindrance, especially because of the visual power of the objects.
The kids had a scavenger hunt that we'd picked up from the information desk and so were on the lookout for numerous objects, from details in manuscript illuminations to repeating patterns in large carpets, from ceramic plates to metal incense burners. Between finds, we admired the floral and animal themes; followed the intricate (seemingly) symmetrical, repeating, interlocking patterns; counted the numerous references to battling animals (large cat vs ibex, on carpet, illumination, book binding, and dagger hilt); spotted the embedded calligraphy; admired the tiny details in the illumination; wondered at how mosaics, tilework, even ceiling engravings are joined; and thrilled at several depictions of rabbits.
Perhaps the most revelatory aspect of the new galleries was stepping out of them into the adjacent 19th-century European paintings galleries, the first one hung with Orientalist works by the likes of Gerome. We played compare and contrast:: here were oil paintings, numerous depictions of humans (there are some in Islamic art; not all believed in the prohibition of the depiction of humans), a focus on the "exotic," the Other. Even to first graders, it was obvious that these second-hand depictions by outsiders paled in comparison to the real thing. And professionally speaking, even though my beloved European 19th-century galleries were renovated about 20 years ago, they look old and tired in comparison with their new neighbors, particularly because in these galleries paintings are removed from their original contexts, which were elaborate houses of rich patrons, complete with furniture and other objets d'art, well-illuminated and hung in rows on the "dead" (at least no longer white) walls of the museum/mausoleum. While the art of Arab lands is displayed all together (not manuscripts here, mosaics there in some kind of surgical separation of media that plagues the study of European art, subdivided as painting, decorative arts, sculpture, textile etc), it avoids the ethnographic, exotic Other feel of natural history museums--this is art on par with all the other art in the museum, with each object as worthy of study as the oil paintings on the line.
Really, I could go on and on, but I'm not sure it would convey the depth of my appreciation for the galleries. And for the day. I was so proud, so happy, so excited, so relieved to have made it to and through the museum--two hours without any real problems--I'd be standing at a carpet and find myself in tears at the wonderfulness of it all. I am so grateful to Mama, for handling all of the logistics, and to the kids for humoring me (when they really wanted to go to Egyptian!). They were a delight, enthusiastically exploring every gallery, soaking in an art very new to them. We then went outside for food--the carts are almost better than the cafeteria, with new gourmet pretzels and organic cupcakes, with of course, the standard hot dogs. We ate, swatted away pigeons, people-watched, and enjoyed the buskers singing Motown tunes. We bought a few postcards and a catalog.
And planned our next visit . . . .
The new galleries, officially galleries for the Art of Arab Lands, Turkey, Iran, Central Asia, and Later South Asia (yes, that is way too long, but it conveys less a false monolithic entity and more the diversity that was a vast region over 1500+ years), are glorious (see here in pics from the NYTimes and the Met):
Look at those floors in the introductory gallery! (You can't see it here, but one gallery had glass lanterns hanging above the historical objects which inspired them) And the alternately warm and dramatic lighting in the other galleries! The replication of both palatial and intimate settings to engage directly with the objects! The labels were informative, but not too, and were well placed. I applaud both the designers and the curators. Of course, my favorite space, the space I remembered from eight plus years ago, before the galleries closed, the one Mama had never seen until I took her, on what was our ultimate date at the Met (followed by a walk down Fifth and dinner at Carnegie Deli one Friday night), was the Damascus Room, a receiving room bringing together so many of the arts on display, with the wonderful trickling fountain:
It was even more wonderful than I had recalled. It, and all the objects, shine in this new interpretation and installation, such an improvement over the old, shabby galleries. Warm, inviting, comfortable, were words that came to mind--these are galleries I will visit again and again, being happy to wander and linger. Now, I'm not fully conversant with the breadth and depth of the arts of Arab lands, having only touched upon them in classes on other topics or in exhibitions tangentially related. But for the purpose of our first view of the galleries and an introduction of the art to the kids, that was not a hindrance, especially because of the visual power of the objects.
The kids had a scavenger hunt that we'd picked up from the information desk and so were on the lookout for numerous objects, from details in manuscript illuminations to repeating patterns in large carpets, from ceramic plates to metal incense burners. Between finds, we admired the floral and animal themes; followed the intricate (seemingly) symmetrical, repeating, interlocking patterns; counted the numerous references to battling animals (large cat vs ibex, on carpet, illumination, book binding, and dagger hilt); spotted the embedded calligraphy; admired the tiny details in the illumination; wondered at how mosaics, tilework, even ceiling engravings are joined; and thrilled at several depictions of rabbits.
Perhaps the most revelatory aspect of the new galleries was stepping out of them into the adjacent 19th-century European paintings galleries, the first one hung with Orientalist works by the likes of Gerome. We played compare and contrast:: here were oil paintings, numerous depictions of humans (there are some in Islamic art; not all believed in the prohibition of the depiction of humans), a focus on the "exotic," the Other. Even to first graders, it was obvious that these second-hand depictions by outsiders paled in comparison to the real thing. And professionally speaking, even though my beloved European 19th-century galleries were renovated about 20 years ago, they look old and tired in comparison with their new neighbors, particularly because in these galleries paintings are removed from their original contexts, which were elaborate houses of rich patrons, complete with furniture and other objets d'art, well-illuminated and hung in rows on the "dead" (at least no longer white) walls of the museum/mausoleum. While the art of Arab lands is displayed all together (not manuscripts here, mosaics there in some kind of surgical separation of media that plagues the study of European art, subdivided as painting, decorative arts, sculpture, textile etc), it avoids the ethnographic, exotic Other feel of natural history museums--this is art on par with all the other art in the museum, with each object as worthy of study as the oil paintings on the line.
Really, I could go on and on, but I'm not sure it would convey the depth of my appreciation for the galleries. And for the day. I was so proud, so happy, so excited, so relieved to have made it to and through the museum--two hours without any real problems--I'd be standing at a carpet and find myself in tears at the wonderfulness of it all. I am so grateful to Mama, for handling all of the logistics, and to the kids for humoring me (when they really wanted to go to Egyptian!). They were a delight, enthusiastically exploring every gallery, soaking in an art very new to them. We then went outside for food--the carts are almost better than the cafeteria, with new gourmet pretzels and organic cupcakes, with of course, the standard hot dogs. We ate, swatted away pigeons, people-watched, and enjoyed the buskers singing Motown tunes. We bought a few postcards and a catalog.
And planned our next visit . . . .
(Not Quite Epic) Loss
In addition to the wonderful experience at the Met yesterday, my SuperBetter Epic Win, I had quite a disappointment during my visit with my doctor. "Medical science has failed people like you," he said. "It hasn't caught up." Barring spontaneous (slow) healing, there are few if any treatments left for me. Yep, you read that correctly: this might be more permanent than temporary. I can have more epidurals, perhaps one to my tailbone, but nothing is a magic pill. There are medical nerve blockers but he doesn't think it will effect my kind of pain. There might be a stem cell procedure, which would perhaps help the disc to heal. Then there's a nerve toxin in clinical trials--13 people have had it in Germany!--that would (very painfully) poison and kills the nerves in the area. Risky, unpredictable, and that's if you don't get the placebo. No thanks. Otherwise, he says his job is to support me and make sure I don't do anything stupid, like a disc fusion which would only cause me more trouble (and several other specialists have agreed with him on that point). He applauded my good spirits, my dealing with this without heavy pain pills, my following of directions to take supplements, my 20 lb weight loss in 12 months, and even seemed to apologize for not having anything to offer. Of course, you've gathered that he still absolutely believes the pain is discogenic, i.e. caused by the herniated disc, regardless of the fact that it is a small tear and protrusion. He read the letter from the PT discussing ligaments, sacrum, coccyx, etc, and rejected it outright. We have questions and concerns about all of this, wonder about possible other diagnostic tools (seated MRIs? discogram? EMG?), but know he doesn't trust such tests (and the NYTimes talks about why he's probably right not to). And it's hard to know who to believe (him and the other specialists, or the PT--doesn't seem equal, does it? We don't reject the PT out of hand, but would be more trusting if that therapy seemed to be going anywhere, and/or if there was even one doctor who agreed with her and trusted her treatment; still 3 visits is earlier yet to tell) because we don't feel like we have the skills or knowledge to evaluate my condition on our own.
Which leaves us here: I'm taking a short medical hiatus. Right now what I need more than doctors, tests, diagnoses, treatments, and disappointments, is time. I will see the pain specialist with whom we managed an appointment in December--he deals not with fixing pain (like a physiatrist) but in coping with it. I will continue PT a bit longer and will see a doctor, if she has one to recommend. I will continue to exercise and lose weight (though, no one believes that's the magic pill either; but it can't hurt). I will think of more simple practical things we can do to make me as independent and functional as possible (like with the countertop convection oven and my stand-up desk). Otherwise, I will hold off on any more epidurals, drugs, new appointments until after the holidays. I will not pursue any other new specialists until the new year. But yes, we'll keep looking and trying. Just not for the next two months. We've been hitting it pretty hard and I need a mental break, to be more than my body for bit, to enjoy the holidays.
And to process--to contemplate, mourn, and accept, even research--that this might be it. That my temporary injury might become a more long-term disability. That I will need to adapt my plans for the future, my way of doing things in the present. I think I have been on hold all these months, waiting to get better, doing what I can to heal, but still trusting that the healing would happen, my time would come, if only I hung in there. Yesterday did a lot to change that . I might not heal anymore. This might be as good as my back gets. I really might not ever be able to sit without pain, in other words, to sit again, or to stand or walk for long periods of time without problems. Or, such things are so far off, not measured in weeks or months, but much longer, that it doesn't make sense to wait anymore. Which means making some changes--mentally, physically, environmentally.
The biggest, for me, is the first. There's no point dwelling here or now on what losses this injury entails (I can't quite call it a disability yet; it smacks too much of permanence or severity for me right now; especially since it's essentially an invisible--and I'll say it, weird and unusual--disability.). And I recognize and am grateful for my blessings. Most of the time, I'm pretty good at thinking on the latter instead of the former. As I've said, it really could be worse.
But today, it's bad enough. And I'm sad. But if you see me (or Mama), let's not talk too much about it. Help me take my break. Just say, "What's up?" or "How ya doing?" and let's more forward from there . . . just "keep on moving forward, never turning back."
Which leaves us here: I'm taking a short medical hiatus. Right now what I need more than doctors, tests, diagnoses, treatments, and disappointments, is time. I will see the pain specialist with whom we managed an appointment in December--he deals not with fixing pain (like a physiatrist) but in coping with it. I will continue PT a bit longer and will see a doctor, if she has one to recommend. I will continue to exercise and lose weight (though, no one believes that's the magic pill either; but it can't hurt). I will think of more simple practical things we can do to make me as independent and functional as possible (like with the countertop convection oven and my stand-up desk). Otherwise, I will hold off on any more epidurals, drugs, new appointments until after the holidays. I will not pursue any other new specialists until the new year. But yes, we'll keep looking and trying. Just not for the next two months. We've been hitting it pretty hard and I need a mental break, to be more than my body for bit, to enjoy the holidays.
And to process--to contemplate, mourn, and accept, even research--that this might be it. That my temporary injury might become a more long-term disability. That I will need to adapt my plans for the future, my way of doing things in the present. I think I have been on hold all these months, waiting to get better, doing what I can to heal, but still trusting that the healing would happen, my time would come, if only I hung in there. Yesterday did a lot to change that . I might not heal anymore. This might be as good as my back gets. I really might not ever be able to sit without pain, in other words, to sit again, or to stand or walk for long periods of time without problems. Or, such things are so far off, not measured in weeks or months, but much longer, that it doesn't make sense to wait anymore. Which means making some changes--mentally, physically, environmentally.
The biggest, for me, is the first. There's no point dwelling here or now on what losses this injury entails (I can't quite call it a disability yet; it smacks too much of permanence or severity for me right now; especially since it's essentially an invisible--and I'll say it, weird and unusual--disability.). And I recognize and am grateful for my blessings. Most of the time, I'm pretty good at thinking on the latter instead of the former. As I've said, it really could be worse.
But today, it's bad enough. And I'm sad. But if you see me (or Mama), let's not talk too much about it. Help me take my break. Just say, "What's up?" or "How ya doing?" and let's more forward from there . . . just "keep on moving forward, never turning back."
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Monday, November 7, 2011
An Historic SuperBetter Day
After welcoming them to the house, I told them we would be traveling back through time and that I was dressed to take them through my 350-year-old house. I let them point out what was anomalous about my outfit and they eventually spotted my therapeutic sneakers (a big docent no-no! But this was unofficial). Bud also said that my eyeglasses were wrong, since Ben Franklin invented them, which he'd read recently in a book (and it's partially true--Franklin did invent bifocals, but glasses had been around, but not common, for hundreds of years).
We went inside to help the kids make their own mop caps (appx 18" diameter muslin circle with slits about 1.5" from edge and a few inches apart gathered with yarn) so they'd feel dressed for the period. While they worked, I talked about my costume--my layered skirt (and how I'd wear more and heavier layers for winter), my separate pockets ("Lucy Locket lost her pocket"), my always-covered head, how they had few outfits and only washed the layer next to their bodies (and usually only took sponge baths!), how clothes were not purchased ready-made but sewn out of purchased fabric by tailors or the women in the family (except during the war) and that clothes were patched and passed down because they were valuable, how boys wore dresses until they were "breeched" sometime in young childhood, and how girls never wore pants. This last fact shocked the all-pants-wearing troop the most. But that's because we didn't talk about how they didn't wear underwear!
Appropriately covered, we headed into the kitchen to talk about other aspects of colonial life:
- lighting by candles, oil lamps, firelight, increased by reflections off pewter plates or mirrors, but especially sunlight--how they woke with and went to bed with the sun
- heat only by fireplace, compounded by lower ceilings, smaller windows, heavier clothes and blankets, and foot- and bed-warmers
- transportation by foot because only the rich had horses or carriages
- sleeping altogether, with parents and siblings, in rope beds or pallets
- children's chores: sewing, helping with the cooking, cleaning (with a broom made of sticks), feeding the livestock, fetching water, carrying wood, gathering eggs (eggs were more seasonal then, with chickens not laying in cold months), making butter (another seasonal food because cows didn't give milk in winter)
- food harvesting (and the long tradition of harvest festivals, even before the official Thanksgiving holiday in 1863) and preservation, especially the popularity of drying apples and making pies to eat at every meal (and why you just couldn't leave whole apples in the cellar--rot, mice, thieving kids!). Also how the big meal was in the middle of the day.
- how water was not the drink of choice because it was easily contaminated and could make you sick; they drank cider and hot tea, often made from leaves broken from bricks of tea from China
Then, in the waning afternoon light, without turning on any electricity, they kids worked on weaving projects. I showed them all the tape, or ribbon, in my clothes--my cap, shift, and gathering my skirts--and demonstrated how it was woven on my replica colonial tape loom. Then they did some decorative circle weaving on paper plates (notch a plate with an uneven number of slits, set "warp" by crossing through center and passing to next slit, weave over-under in a circle, changing colors whenever), similar to the woven rag rugs they were all seated upon.
After everyone had left, while Mama and I were cleaning up, Sis and Bud played house in the enormous fireplace--sweeping, baking, stirring the kettle, churning butter, fetching wood and water. Watching them bring history alive for themselves is why I love being a docent.
Definitely a "Power Up" moment.
Recent Recipes
A collection of recipes we've made recently
Pumpkin Choices
Pumpkin Pasta
1 pound whole wheat penne pasta
2 tablespoons olive oil
3 shallots, finely chopped
3-4 garlic cloves, grated
2 cups chicken stock
1-15 oz can pumpkin puree
1/2 cup cream
1 teaspoon hot sauce (optional)
nutmeg
2 pinches of ground cinnamon
7 to 8 fresh sage leaves
grated Parmesan cheese
Boil pasta according to directions on package.
Saute shallots and garlic in olive oil. Add stock, pumpkin, and cream. Then hot sauce, nutmeg, cinnamon, salt, and pepper to taste. Reduce heat and simmer 5-6 minutes. Stir in sage. Toss in drained pasta and add cheese. Serve.
Rachael Ray, Yum-O!
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Pumpkin Pasties
1-9" pie shell, or equivalent amount of dough
1 cup canned pumpkin
1/4 cup sugar
1/8 teaspoon each ground nutmeg and cinnamon
Preheat the oven to 400F. Mix pumpkin, sugar, and spices until thoroughly blended. Roll out dough until it is 1/8" thick. Use a saucer to cut 6" circles. Put 2-3 tablespoons of filling in the middle of each circle. Moisten edges gently with your wet finger. Fold circle in half and seal shut, crimping edge with fork. Pierce to vent. Bake on ungreased cookie sheet for about 30 minutes or until golden.
Dinah Bucholz, The Unofficial Harry Potter Cookbook
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Uses Of Heavy Cream
Toasty Oats with Cider Syrup
4 cups real apple cider, refrigerated
2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
1/2 cup heavy cream
Put 2 cups of apple cider in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil, lower the heat to medium, and cook until the cider is reduced to 1/2 cup, about 25 minutes. Set aside This can be made one day ahead and reheated gently.
To make the oatmeal: in a medium saucepan, put the remaining 2 cups of cider, 1 1/2 cups of water, and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Bring to a boil. Lower the heat to medium and add the oatmeal. Cook over medium heat for 5 minutes, stirring frequently. Add 2 tablespoons of the heavy cream. Cook for 1 or 2 minutes longer, until the oatmeal is the desired thickness.
Meanwhile, whip the remaining cream. Serve oatmeal with whipped cream and maple syrup.
Rozanne Gold, Kids Cook 1-2-3
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Homemade Butter
1 cup heavy cream, chilled
Put cream in heavy mixer or food processor. Beat on high for 7 minutes. Cream will thicken and become smooth. Then it will separate into small solids and a milky liquid (this is buttermilk). It will slosh around a bit and then a ball of butter will form.
Drain off the buttermilk (drink or save) and press down the butter to release all the liquid.
Add a pinch of salt and stir well.
Eat now or refrigerate covered for up to a week.
Rozanne Gold, Kids Cook 1-2-3
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Miscellaneous
Pork Chops with Sauteed Apples
2 thick pork chops, about 7 oz each
1 large McIntosh apple
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
Season the pork chops with salt and pepper.
Peel the apple. Cut the apple in half. Cut each half into 5 wedges. Remove the seeds.
Melt butter in a large skillet. Add the apples and cook over medium-high heat for 1 minute on each side. Add pork chops and cook thoroughly. Serve immediately.
Rozanne Gold, Kids Cook 1-2-3
-=-=-=-=-=-
Gommie's Rump Roast
3-4 lb rump roast
salt and pepper
1 cup water
Preheat oven to 500F. Sear meat, rubbed with salt and pepper, for 15 minutes. Reduce heat to 350F, add cup of water to pan, and cover. Cook approximately 2 hours. Make gravy from drippings (4 tablespoons oil or drippings plus 4 tablespoons flour, cook til copper-brown, add 4 cups stock plus seasonings).
Gommie Hungry
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Pumpkin Choices
Pumpkin Pasta
1 pound whole wheat penne pasta
2 tablespoons olive oil
3 shallots, finely chopped
3-4 garlic cloves, grated
2 cups chicken stock
1-15 oz can pumpkin puree
1/2 cup cream
1 teaspoon hot sauce (optional)
nutmeg
2 pinches of ground cinnamon
7 to 8 fresh sage leaves
grated Parmesan cheese
Boil pasta according to directions on package.
Saute shallots and garlic in olive oil. Add stock, pumpkin, and cream. Then hot sauce, nutmeg, cinnamon, salt, and pepper to taste. Reduce heat and simmer 5-6 minutes. Stir in sage. Toss in drained pasta and add cheese. Serve.
Rachael Ray, Yum-O!
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Pumpkin Pasties
1-9" pie shell, or equivalent amount of dough
1 cup canned pumpkin
1/4 cup sugar
1/8 teaspoon each ground nutmeg and cinnamon
Preheat the oven to 400F. Mix pumpkin, sugar, and spices until thoroughly blended. Roll out dough until it is 1/8" thick. Use a saucer to cut 6" circles. Put 2-3 tablespoons of filling in the middle of each circle. Moisten edges gently with your wet finger. Fold circle in half and seal shut, crimping edge with fork. Pierce to vent. Bake on ungreased cookie sheet for about 30 minutes or until golden.
Dinah Bucholz, The Unofficial Harry Potter Cookbook
-=-=-=-=-=-
Uses Of Heavy Cream
Toasty Oats with Cider Syrup
4 cups real apple cider, refrigerated
2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
1/2 cup heavy cream
Put 2 cups of apple cider in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil, lower the heat to medium, and cook until the cider is reduced to 1/2 cup, about 25 minutes. Set aside This can be made one day ahead and reheated gently.
To make the oatmeal: in a medium saucepan, put the remaining 2 cups of cider, 1 1/2 cups of water, and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Bring to a boil. Lower the heat to medium and add the oatmeal. Cook over medium heat for 5 minutes, stirring frequently. Add 2 tablespoons of the heavy cream. Cook for 1 or 2 minutes longer, until the oatmeal is the desired thickness.
Meanwhile, whip the remaining cream. Serve oatmeal with whipped cream and maple syrup.
Rozanne Gold, Kids Cook 1-2-3
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Homemade Butter
1 cup heavy cream, chilled
Put cream in heavy mixer or food processor. Beat on high for 7 minutes. Cream will thicken and become smooth. Then it will separate into small solids and a milky liquid (this is buttermilk). It will slosh around a bit and then a ball of butter will form.
Drain off the buttermilk (drink or save) and press down the butter to release all the liquid.
Add a pinch of salt and stir well.
Eat now or refrigerate covered for up to a week.
Rozanne Gold, Kids Cook 1-2-3
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Miscellaneous
Pork Chops with Sauteed Apples
2 thick pork chops, about 7 oz each
1 large McIntosh apple
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
Season the pork chops with salt and pepper.
Peel the apple. Cut the apple in half. Cut each half into 5 wedges. Remove the seeds.
Melt butter in a large skillet. Add the apples and cook over medium-high heat for 1 minute on each side. Add pork chops and cook thoroughly. Serve immediately.
Rozanne Gold, Kids Cook 1-2-3
-=-=-=-=-=-
Gommie's Rump Roast
3-4 lb rump roast
salt and pepper
1 cup water
Preheat oven to 500F. Sear meat, rubbed with salt and pepper, for 15 minutes. Reduce heat to 350F, add cup of water to pan, and cover. Cook approximately 2 hours. Make gravy from drippings (4 tablespoons oil or drippings plus 4 tablespoons flour, cook til copper-brown, add 4 cups stock plus seasonings).
Gommie Hungry
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Plus some internet links to recipes I've made
- Gram Lowry's Applesauce Cake--fantastic and easy (though kids would have liked it better without raisins)
- Homemade Granola--I make this every Monday and eat it all week.
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I've been working on my profile photo and have cycled through several in the last few days, including
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| Princess Leia |
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| and Snorlax. |
But I've finally decided on this painting,Beatrice, by Marie Spartali Stillman. Not necessarily because I identify with Dante's Beatrice, but because I have always liked Stillman's paintings (much better than the PRB ones she posed for--I even considered doing my dissertation on her).
But I imagine I'll change the image before long.
Sunset on Our Green Hour
It's become our post-school ritual to play outside for an hour after the kids get off the bus, from approximately 4-5 pm. The kids have a picnic snack, practice their kung fu, climb bushes, run obstacle courses, play in their homemade branch shelter, "cook" with mud and berries, run up the slide, swing on the playset, perform musicals, "excavating" the boulders like archaeologists, really whatever they dream up. I like playing with them, when they ask. I like watching them play, while I walk back and forth deep in thought (or not). I like our unstructured outdoor time, the perfect antidote to an 8-hour day at school. After our hour, by dusk, we head inside for homework and dinner. But today, there were no rays of light touching our yard when they got off the bus; it was dusk already. By 5 pm, it looked like this:
Sure, it was extra-fun tonight to watch the moon rise before dinner, but soon, it'll look like this almost immediately after they get home. And our happy, go-lucky, creative outdoor freeplay will be on hiatus until spring.
Just another reason I don't like "fall back."
Sure, it was extra-fun tonight to watch the moon rise before dinner, but soon, it'll look like this almost immediately after they get home. And our happy, go-lucky, creative outdoor freeplay will be on hiatus until spring.
Just another reason I don't like "fall back."
The One That Got Away
Sometimes you just don't get the picture you planned. So, to complete this image, please image a perfect V-formation of approximately 30 honking geese right in the gap between the trees.
Apples and Oranges
I'm sure it's true for other things, but it has certainly struck me this week that my kiddos have surpassed me in the acquisition of a few skills I don't have. Sis can go all the way across the monkey bars. Bud can do one-handed cartwheels. I'm just really amazed, impressed, and proud. In this case, the apples have fallen into a completely different orchard
Slavic Saturday
On the way back from a vet emergency (Hermione ate tinfoil; she's fine now), we spotted a local Slavic Food Fest at an Orthodox church. So we dropped off the cat and headed back for lunch. The kids were hesitant at first but tried all the offerings: halushki (hot noodles with cabbage), halupki (stuffed cabbage in tomato sauce), pierogi (potato and cheese dumplings, but spelled pirohi, I think), mushroom barley soup, borscht (shredded beets, cabbage, carrots, beef soup), kolbasi and sauerkraut (same as kielbasa), and kolache (much more like rugelach than our Central Texas kolache pastries). Mmmmmmm. Bud wolfed it all down, preferring the stuffed cabbage. But Sis stuck to the noodles and dumplings. Still, we were proud of them for trying it all and excited that they liked new foods. Must. Find. Recipes. They also liked the church but were, as usual, confused--What's a saint? isn't Saint Nicholas "Santa Claus"? But why would you pray to him? Why are there "x"s (read "crosses") everywhere? Are they Christians? Why was that man in black with a funny collar? What's a priest? Why is there a wall (altar screen) in front of the sanctuary? I can see that it will soon be time to make some visits to other houses of worship, and not just for food. Maybe we can tag along with some of our church and temple-going friends when the kids are a bit older. Until then, more food festivals, because nothing helps getting to know your neighbors like eating together.
Homemade Musicals
With Into The Woods stuck in their brains the way that musical can, Sis and Bud have been putting on their own shows in the backyard. Call it "Into the Woodland Critters." Bud is a friendly, kung-fu dancing fox. Sis is a kind, berry-picking bunny. They take turns singing solos, mainly based on the opening number of Into the Woods, or dancing, during which I'm supposed to hum their theme songs ("Peter Cottontail" for her; the Wicked Witch of the West theme for him?!). Sometimes I get a walk-on as the slow hedgehog.
This new incorporation of music into play has carried over into other arenas. They now chant words that touch their fancy, like "ham," or repeat everything I say in an operatic aria ("It's time for dinner." "It's, it's it's, timmmmmeeeeee for-or-or-or din-ner!").
Bravo! Brava! Bravissimi!
This new incorporation of music into play has carried over into other arenas. They now chant words that touch their fancy, like "ham," or repeat everything I say in an operatic aria ("It's time for dinner." "It's, it's it's, timmmmmeeeeee for-or-or-or din-ner!").
Bravo! Brava! Bravissimi!
The Extra Hour
The "extra hour" of sleep at the end of Daylight Savings Time is a myth at our house.
First graders don't know to sleep in when their usual wake-up time goes from 7 am to 6 am literally overnight. "Sleeping in" holds no appeal for them.
Which means there were kids playing Legos downstairs at 6:01 am today.
First graders don't know to sleep in when their usual wake-up time goes from 7 am to 6 am literally overnight. "Sleeping in" holds no appeal for them.
Which means there were kids playing Legos downstairs at 6:01 am today.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Happy Birthday, Banana!
Wishing my sister a very happy birthday today! Hope you have a wonderful celebration with Uncle Soccer and Cousin Hungry. Your presents (for all of you) will be on their way soon. We love you!
Friday, November 4, 2011
Catching Up
I'll elaborate later . . . .
Wednesday
Thursday
Friday
Plus an early happy birthday to my little sister, Aunt Banana! (Your gift, and Uncle Soccer's, is bundled with Cousin Hungry's and will be there soon-ish).
Wednesday
- Worst. PT. Ever. How getting better is a pain in my ass. Literally.
- Day gets harder: Mama Hungry comes home with violent food poisoning from lunch.
Thursday
- Moms Morning Coffee
- Early Dismissal and the playground
- Parent/Teacher conferences--the 3 Rs plus a marriage proposal!
- Daisy Scout tour of historic house led by me, with craft activities!
- Continuing the historic theme, apple pie for dinner by candlelight
Friday
- Watching Pema Chodron's Omega retreat from last weekend online, "Living Beautifully with Uncertainty and Change"--my understandings of her great teachings later
- Delicious take out lunch from Bloodroot (Mama is gingerly eating again! But now has a nasty head cold.)
- Settling in for a lazy, stay-at-home, family weekend
Plus an early happy birthday to my little sister, Aunt Banana! (Your gift, and Uncle Soccer's, is bundled with Cousin Hungry's and will be there soon-ish).
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