Taste the Capers

As a teen, I used to love to watch Jeff Smith's Frugal Gourmet on public television. I learned so much from him. Yes, I was the teen who thought nothing of spending part of her Saturday afternoon watching a cooking show twenty years before the Food Network made cooking shows cool. Luis would say I was a nerd, but I prefer to think of it as a food lover in training.

When I was growing up, our household was very meat and potatoes. Rice was so foreign to me that I felt like a gourmand whenever I made it as a side dish for a meal. So, you can imagine that the mere thought of the some of the foods that the Frugal Gourmet made were the ultimate in cuisine in my mind.

I remember one show in which he cooked a dish with capers. I had never even heard of capers before. I had to look them up to find out what they were, and I could not image how they tasted. It was probably another ten years before I had the courage to buy a small bottle of capers. I was scared to try to cook with something I had never had before. For months, that little bottle sat in my refrigerator, chiding me for my lack of culinary adventure every time I opened up the refrigerator door.

When I finally had the courage to open the bottle and cook something with those capers, I was testing my culinary wings. It was a pasta dish. I could not tell you what the recipe was exactly, but I can still taste that first bite of a caper, all briney and vinegary. It was a huge step in my culinary development.

I do not pretend to be a fancy chef. I like food and I love to prepare it, but I have yet to cook with truffles or many of the haute cuisine recipes I find in my monthly issue of Gourmet. However, no tuna sandwich is complete to me without capers anymore, and for that I say thank you to the Frugal Gourmet.

I still feel a little exotic every time I open those small bottles, though.

Now I am thinking of making Pasta Puttanesca for dinner.

Artisan Bread in .......

Artisan bread in 5 minutes a day. No knead bread. So many shortcuts.

How long does it take to make a good loaf of bread? Even Luis seems to be under the misconception that it takes gobs and gobs of time every day. It really does not if one is willing to embrace modern technology. Yes, I resisted for years. No, I do not mean a bread machine. Bleh. Throw those things out. Inferior crusts, poor crumb. Used one for a while, and while it was better than store bought, the amount of real effort that good bread takes is so little that using a bread machine makes no sense.

I mean let technology handling the kneading for you. I mixed and kneaded by hand because that was the traditional thing to do. Then I got the Kitchen-aid mixer a number of years ago and tradition flew out the window when I saw how easy and effective that machine was at mixing bread dough.

Straight French baguettes? About 5 minutes of actually working with the dough.

Honey oat bread takes even less because I only have to shape one loaf, not three.

Sourdoughs are easy. They maybe take 10 minutes of actual work putting the ingredients in, maintaining the starter and shaping the loaves. The ten minutes is spread out over a couple of hours.

The Kitchen-aid handles the mixing, and I load the dishwasher, make lunch or do other housework while it kneads the dough. Rising happens without any effort on my part. Pop the dough into a lightly oiled container, cover and let it do its thing.

Bread is easy! Try it! It does not take a herculean effort to make breads. The hardest part is learning to shape, but boules are so easy and a great place to start. Skip the peel and shape onto a little parchment paper. You can slide that into the oven with the bread and not have to worry about deflating your loaf as you put it into the oven.

You can always expand into trickier breads if it appeals to you, but basic breads are just that. Basic. Anyone can do them. Try it. Do not let these shortcut bread books and bread article trick you into thinking that regular artisan breads are difficult. They are not.

Just Say No

I was reading through the headlines on iGoogle (woohoo, love iGoogle), when I encountered this article. It left me shaking my head at our society.

Parents want toy companies to stop marketing products at children. Not because of any of the myriad reasons sociologists and psychologist have suggested marketing for children should not happen. No. These parents want toy companies to stop marketing to children because it makes the children want things the families cannot afford to buy them this year.

Ooooookay.

It is time the parents in the US pony up to their responsibilities. It is okay to say No to our children. It is okay to teach them to budget and prioritize. It is okay for our kids to have different things or fewer things or handmade things. Voluntary simplicity is okay. Even better, turn off the bloody TV and prevent the kids from seeing the ads in the first place. Spend the time playing card games or putting together tomorrow's dinner together (since too many families claim to be too busy to cook). Stop the recreational shopping so that the kids are not faced with all the "I wants" in the stores. Spend the weekends playing at the park or getting together with friends or gardening or doing the housework and the homework.

Toy companies market the way that they do because it works. Well, if we as parents in this country start to say No, the toy company marketing strategies will no longer work.

That will get the toy companies to change their marketing much more quickly than any letter writing campaign asking.

Food so Fast...

So Jimmy Johns opened in town recently. Luis ordered lunch from there a while back and he said it was so fast, he freaked. Really.

Then on Wednesday he ordered again while I was in the office. Being the snot that I am, I set a stopwatch on the computer to time it. I started the timer as soon as he finished the telephone conversation, stopped it when they walked in the door. 7 minutes, 56 second. Pretty darn good, but not freak worthy considering it was after 1 pm.

Then today I was in the office for a little bit right about noon, and two others were ordering Jimmy Johns. Luis walked in a few minutes after they ordered, and decided he wanted something too. The receptionist mentioned that my friends over at our local independent place, Garden Deli, had stopped in to remind everyone that they have always delivered to the Downtown area even though everyone seems to forget about that.

You know me. I told Luis he should order from Garden Deli. He spent a minute checking out the menu. He called over the order. By this point, it had been about 10 minutes since the Jimmy Johns order was phoned in.

Guess which order arrived first?

Yep, the Garden Deli one. It was so fast, Luis freaked again, and to be honest so did I. He paid, started eating, said bye to me and the kids. We left to go home for our lunch.

Still no sign of Jimmy Johns. Score one for the little guy.

Luis always enjoys going over to Garden Deli to pick up lunch, but had been calling Jimmy Johns because that delivery was mighty convenient. I am thinking Garden Deli has him back as a customer for good.

Our mini mes.

Those apples do not fall far from the trees.

When we entertain, I handle the making of the food. I love to cook and bake. That is probably no shock to anyone who reads this on a regular basis. Luis, on the other hand, is about presentation. He is the one fanning the crackers on the plate and putting the shrimp just so.

The girls, they are me. They start planning food gifts weeks in advance, and they both know already what they want to contribute to our Thanksgiving table.

I just realized that Vincent is Luis. How I missed this before, I am not sure. I realized it today when he decided to get himself cheese for a snack. He cut it all into tiny squares, arranged the squares in a circle on a plate and stuck a toothpick in each square. Then he put a circle of plantain chips in the middle of the cheese circle. In the very center of it all, he placed one gingersnap. That was his snack.

Oh that boy is his father's son.

Sleep, my baby

I have noticed over the years that how old my child looks is directly related to the angle I am facing him/her from and whether said child is awake or asleep.

They all look so small, so fragile when sleeping. The curve of the eyelashes on the cheek is so precious, and each has a different sleeping personality that never leaves as they grow from baby to child. Abigail is still likely to be flailed across the bed with a leg sticking over the side. Isabella is still usually curled up on her side. Vincent sleeps at an angle like I do, slashed across the bed. Simon likes to be on his back with his shoulders out of the blankets.

As I was snuggling with Simon the other morning, he appeared so tiny he compared to how I normally see him. At that angle, glancing down on his face from behind, I did not see the round cheeks and the big forehead. I saw the elfin chin, the hint of his cheekbones, the bitty nose. It made him appear so much smaller than the toddler who runs gleefully around. For a few minutes, I had my little baby in my arms again.

Then he woke up, rolled over, tackled me, and the toddler was back.

Join Hands and Sing Kumbaya

As much as I love the internet, I despise it sometimes too. It is such an imperfect medium. Face to face or telephone conversations have a degree of personal intimacy and immediacy that the online world lacks. For all that we feel close to each other online, the online world and the online conversations lack tone, expression. People have made do with emoticons and acronyms to help bridge this gap, but it cannot ever be fully spanned in my opinion.

Being in person or on the telephone allows for a focus and an immediacy in our interactions that online does not. Message boards and emails let us zap off quick thoughts when our time allows, but it also allows for conversations to drag for hours and for misunderstanding to blossom. Even chat does not have the same feeling of a real conversation. It is an egotistical medium. As I chat, I focus on my screen and my words. I focus more on my words than on the words of my friend.

The internet has allowed me to become friends with people I never would have met. It has allowed me to stay connected to or reconnect with old friends. I have learned much and grown towards becoming the parent and the person I want to be because of the online world.

And yet...

All I want is peace. I want some way to bridge the two worlds, the real and the virtual. I know that I try to present an honest picture of who and what I am in my online communications, and I take everyone at face value. I do this in real life too; it drives Luis nuts, but I digress. I wish that small hurts did not need to be magnified by the failings of online communication. I wish that people did not feel so cocooned by the failings of internet communication to say hurtful things they would never say in real life.

This post probably makes no sense to some reading it and perfect sense to others. That is okay. I just needed to write tonight about this.

All I want is peace. Join hands with me and sing Kumbaya, dear friends. Then we'll make s'mores.

Just be careful because those homemade marshmallows are wicked hot when you roast them, and I know from experience that they can burn the beejeebees out of you. Let us bring peace and harmony to the real world and the online world. Hey, while we are at it, let us try to heal the divide that politics has wrought in our nation too.

We interrupt this blog

We interrupt this blog for the following special program



Watch it. Please.

I'll return to our regularly scheduled programing of food, photos and family after next week's election. I promise.

Help me understand this

I was reading some political stuff tonight when I was hit by a question that I really have never seen anyone ask or answer before.

Why, in the US, it is considered an employer's responsibility to provide health insurance?

Can anyone explain this for me? So many are questioning in our society whether or not universal health care is socialist, but I would really like to know why health insurance falls into the benefits employers are supposed to provide. Disability insurance I could understand, but health insurance? Does it stem from the fact that a healthy employee is a more productive one? I wonder why it got started because it seems to be a rather silly way to doing things given job turnover and changing economic landscapes.

If Anton and Bethany Gibson (John and Jane Doe is just too boring) get laid off from a company that has HIJ health insurance and hired somewhere with QRS insurance, one insurance company has to do the administrative work to remove them from the rolls, send out letters of prior insurance and whatnot and the other company has to do the work to add them to the insured roster, send out cards and whatnot. Care providers have to spend extra time and money updating insurance information. It seems to be an added layer of duplicated administration that is just wasting money and resources.

Who came up with this system? Do we as Americans really think this is the best we can do? I do not understand why it is considered such a good system of insurance or such a good idea given the changing nature of the workforce in the US. We do not spend our entire careers with one or two companies any more. The average US worker changes jobs rather frequently, meaning we change health insurance rather frequently too, if the new employer even offers it.

Tradition

It is almost time to turn the calendar page to November, and the weather took a dramatic turn today from brisk autumnal splendor to the chill and damp of pre-winter. That got my mind looking ahead to Thanksgiving.

I host a gathering every Thanksgiving of family and friends. It is not that large, about 20 people give or take every year, but it nice. We have hosted at our house for a number of years now, and already traditions have started to become set in stone. My mother-in-law bring morros y christianos. My mother makes grandma's stuffing recipe. Luis' brother brings baklava. I serve apple and pumpkin pies with fresh vanilla whipped cream.

As I have been browsing the latest issue of Gourmet this week, I keep looking at their four Thanksgiving dinner menus. Wouldn't the Roasted Potatoes and Shallots taste good? Look at the Carrot Fennel soup. The Sage and Leek Stuffing sounds really good. Mmmm, a poached pear tart.

What would happen if I took mashed potatoes off the menu and substituted the roasted potatoes or a parsnip puree? Could I experiment with the Pumpkin Tart with Anise Crust without a mutiny on my hands? How offended would my mother be if I suggested trying a different stuffing just one year?

I realized tonight that in these few short years, the menu has become stuck in a tradition that I cannot bend too much without upsetting the others. Even the mere suggestion that I might not make the sacred red Jello with whipped topping was enough to get Luis grumbling. Mess with his mashed potatoes? Yeah, right.

I guess I am just stuck reading about these feasts of foods I will never get to serve at my Thanksgiving table.

I wonder if Grandma ever felt this way?

I am going to ask my aunt to bring her broccoli salad instead of yam dish because I found a recipe for Parmesan Roasted Squash that I will try instead. I think that the yams are something I can mess with without people complaining too much, and I love the crunch of her salad to balance all the soft textured foods. Maybe I can change the green beans from the the creamy dish to a sauteed version with bacon and chestnuts without too much fuss? I love the creamy version, but I need a little bit of change this year.

Look out tradition; I am going give your pedestal a tiny shake this fall.

{{{ insert name here }}}

In the online world, we dole out virtual hugs with liberality. What is different about real life? Many shy away from physical contact in the real world today. Hugs and embraces are reserved, somehow, for children and lovers.

Yet a greeting from a friend or even an acquaintance that includes a generous hug or quick embrace brightness the day for me. Just today, the hug hello of a friend's mother walking by was a spot of sunshine on a cloudy day. There is the squeeze of a hand of an older person greeting or farewell or just while sitting and talking. Put an arm around the shoulder, even for a moment, of a friend who looks down.

All of these things are the creation of emotion and memory for me. I can still remember sitting and just holding my grandmother's hand or the endearing way she would embrace my hand between both of hers as we parted after my weekly visits to her. I can tell you who I hugged hello at the last event we attended at the Piazza, but I cannot tell you what I ate there, and I go there as much for the wonderful food as anything else.

As strange as it feels for me to say this - me, someone who easily gets touched out after a decade of small children climbing on her and tugging at her - there is not enough touch in our society today.

We all know babies need skin to skin contact, need touch. So do adults.

Why?

Why does a toddler put glue in his hair?

Why are two muffins in the pan always darker than the rest?

Why is universal public education a right, but universal public health insurance is socialism?

Why does mama always eat the burnt piece of bacon?

Why is the bed with the folded laundry on it more fun to bounce on than any other bed?

Why it is human nature to always look forward to what is coming next instead of enjoying what is happening right now?

Why is it okay for the state to mandate the Christian version of marriage being between a man and a woman, but allow still divorce, the antithesis of Christian marriage?

Why is there never a sharp pencil in the house?

Why can I never find a nail clippers even though we own three pair?

Why do I cut it so close to the freeze date every year before pulling out my tomatoes?

Why do tomatoes ripen so well in the house even when picked totally green?

Why does coffee smell nothing like it tastes?

Why am I sitting in the office on a lovely fall day?

Eavesdropping

Have you ever sat and read random blogs? It is people watching and eavesdropping rolled together.

While doing a search in Google, one link took me to a blog post about Elinore and Andrew's trip to India. I have no clue who Elinore and Andrew may be, but Elinore writes an interesting blog post. I just wasted ten minutes reading about their adventures traveling in India on a modest budget.

PSA - It is important to remember that anyone could be reading our blogs. Nothing online is private. It you would not say something at the Thanksgiving dinner table or to your friends at a party, do not type it out online. You never know who could be eavesdropping.

Never too big

No matter how big our children grow, they really never change. They are always our babies.

Vincent was sick yesterday. He woke with a bad headache and by mid-afternoon was full out sick. I spent more time holding him and cuddling yesterday than he had let me do all summer long. Just like his toddler self, all he wanted to do was lay on top of me. He is better today, so I am settling for quick hugs and his fishy lipped kisses, but I know my snuggly little boy is still there.

As for Abigail, my great big girl is thrilled to bits by her new footie pajamas. At the moment, my youngest and oldest are laying here in fleece footie jammies, and it warms my heart. Closing my eyes, I can still see the toddler she was nine years ago, snuggled up asleep in the red jammies with navy stars her brother now wears as he sleeps next to her. Nine years from now, will he wear the green jammies with St Bernards on them?

Randomness

Friday afternoon randomness:

~ When a man is wearing a shirt and tie, he needs to leave the baseball cap at home. There are many types of hats; pick something more appropriate please.

~ The E button on my keyboard is not working well today, and it is driving me bonkers.

~ I love the fact that if there is something on TV that I really, really want to see (like last night's debate), I can find it online now. That is one of the best internet advances of the last few years. I do like listening to the Daily Show while working out. Jon Stewart is da bomb.

~ Speaking of working out, I want to join the Y again. Simon is older, and I could leave him with Luis to go workout. I love using the Precor there and zoning out for 30 minutes. I can use the Nordic Track at home, but then I worry about bonking Simon with it while he walks around. If I try to workout while he naps, it is guaranteed that he will wake up 15 minutes into it.

~ I want a fountain pen again. I had one in college that I loved, but misplaced it my junior year and never replaced it. I do like the way the ink flows on paper when writing with a fountain pen, so contemplative.

~ Do not buy Hershey's anymore. They are no longer putting cocoa butter in their chocolate, turning it from milk chocolate to simply chocolate candy. Inferior product. Stupid idea.

~ So, I watched the debate. Loved Biden. Was happy Palin did not have any gaffes. It was an interesting performance by both of them. Would someone please tell her to lay off the folksy shtick, though? Gotcha, betcha, winking at the camera. These are inappropriate for the national political arena. Cut the crap and tell me what you believe, Palin. I believe there is a fairly good politician under all of that acting, so please let her out. Also, oh boy, you could tell when Biden was annoyed. That giant smile and all the scratching his neck. I wanted to tell him to stop fidgeting.

~ Coco Lopez is bleeping addictive. A spoonful into my cafe con leche is so very good. Too bad it probably has like 500 calories per tablespoon. I swear I could eat the entire can.

Winds of change

Seasonal change is in the air today. A cool wind blows, caressing us with the crisp scent of fall. Leaves are starting to scuttle on the sidewalk, and the carrots are ready to harvest.

Welcome, Professor Wind!

October gave a party;
The leaves by hundreds came -
The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,
And leaves of every name.
The Sunshine spread a carpet,
And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band.
~George Cooper, "October's Party"

Late night musings

Sometimes I worry that things are getting lost in the shuffle of life. Am I doing the best that I can? Am I giving each child what he or she needs? Am I missing something big or something little that will become big?

Being a parent is stressful. What if I mess up? What little incident will the kids look back on with fondness or with horror twenty or thirty years from now?

We all do the best we can with what we know at the time. I know this. But am I doing my best?

The late night worries of a mother...

Isn't that Special?

I heard an interesting little ditty on NPR this morning while driving to the city. They played a snippet of a the question session at the end of a recent McCain rally. One woman spoke up with a comment for the media, not the candidate. She said (and I quote because I just listened to it again on the Morning Edition webcast) "We want the media to start doing their job and stop picking on little children because of their age and their pregnancies. Shame on you! Shame on all of you!", said to a ringing round of applause and catcalls from the audience (she starts talking at 1:50).

Oh. Really?

So it is no one's business who gets pregnant how and at what age except for the kid in question and the kid's parents, eh?

Tell that to all the teen moms that have been vilified by the Religious Right, the media and the Republican party for a couple of decades now.

Wait, those wicked teen moms made the mistake of not being privileged white kids of respected parents.

Hypocrites. Shame on you. Shame on all of you.

Reason #8976 I love my area

While at Cheese Days today, we stopped in at the Hospitality Tent to watch locally renowned chef Wave Kasprzak give a food demonstration. Wave is the chef and one of the owners of the four star The Dining Room at 209 Main in itty bitty nearby Monticello, a destination restaurant if there ever was one.

He was preparing Tomato Blue Cheese Bruschetta. I never thought about blue cheese on bruschetta, must give that a try some day. He also made canapes with leeks and prosciutto. The leek mixture smelled heavenly. As he was cooking and giving out the ingredients, he said that recipe sheets would be available at the end.

Then he stopped a second and told us he was not very good with recipes, that he did not use them often. So, he said, if anyone had any question, just give him a call. He would be happy to help.

I love it.

26 or even 28 please

Just a couple more hours in the day would be very helpful. That is all.

For disappearing acts, it's hard to beat what happens to the eight hours supposedly left after eight of sleep and eight of work.
~Doug Larson

Different Like Me

Isabella has some Big Issues going on, has for years, but it came to a head this year and we are getting her some help that she needs for her anxiety and other things. Unfortunately, she has been resistive at home to implementing some of the things we have been told to try for her sensory issues and her anxiety.

I cannot believe it took me until today to figure out the reason why. She had wanted the help, she has reacted positively right after the conversations with the therapists, she tells me they help when we do them, yet other times at home, she resists these completely. Well, except for the one strategy that has her earning a Really Cool Reward. That one she is all about doing.

Today, as she said that she did not want to implement a visual coping strategy if her friend came over, it hit me. She does not want to feel different, to have her peers realize what she is coping with. A few quiet questions confirmed this.

What could I say? She is different, but everyone has differences. We talked a little about what makes her different, what makes her siblings different, what makes me different, but still it didn't help much because they were not, as she said, "different like me". Today, more than any other day in my parenting career, I was thankful for the amazing community of parents I have known online in the last decade and their openness in sharing their lives and the lives of their children over the years. I was able to tell her about children who have the same issues she does or even more severe ones. Being able to talk about real people with real names was concrete and helped so much more than the abstract "there are lots of people with this."

Still, it breaks my heart to watch her struggle.

I just wish I could wrap her up and kiss it better like a skinned knee or stubbed toe.

Att-i-ca, Att-i-ca

Please help keep my husband out of jail!

Luis is getting locked up on September 30 in support of the Muscular Dystrophy Association. He needs to raise his bail of $1300 in donations, and luckily they give him advance time to get started.

If you can help, please visit Luis' Lock Up page. As much fun as it would be to tease him mercilessly for having to make phone calls asking for help while behind bars, it is a great cause and he hopes to raise more than he needs before the 30th.

Oh, even if he does raise enough bail, he still gets locked up for an hour or two! I promise to post pictures for all supporters.

I ams who I ams

So I was listening to NPR on the drive home from Madison a couple of days ago. They were doing a snippet on the new shishi coffee bar going in to a couple of hundred McDs in the northeast US. They aired a snippet of the commercial, which was supposed to mock Starbucks and coffee bars as something for elitist people. It went like this:

Woman 1: Did you hear McDs is serving lattes, mochas, espresso, capps..
Woman 2: That, that, that is .... GREAT. We can go there and start wearing lipstick and heels again, we don't have to listen to jazz, we can start reading trashy gossip magazines again.......

Once I picked my jaw up off the floor at the overbearingly divisive "us v them" mentality of the commercial, I started thinking.

Am I not supposed to go in to coffee bars wearing lipstick and heels? It would never have occurred to me there was a dress code or rules for people who frequent coffee bars or any other establishment.

To probably misquote a cartoon character of my youth, I ams who I ams.

In the last few years, I have become much more comfortable in my own skin, more at peace with who I am, that I was in my teens and twenties. My lack of confidence and ability to be myself made many of the experiences I had in those years something akin to torture.

Now I have enough peace to be someone who reads Mother Earth News, Gourmet, Midwest Living and People magazines. I have painted toes peeping out of my pink heeled slides which may wear with a fru-fru skirt to an organic event. I will sling my baby and breast feed him even at art center events where the average attendee is 68 and conservative. I embrace my lipstick and eye liner while vegetable gardening.

I like the improving me. I look forward to the woman I will be in another 20 years as I become even more comfortable with me. I make the prediction now that I won't dye my hair as it changes color, and I will probably switch to brighter lip sticks to contrast the hair. The heels will probably still be on my feet, but I will likely pay for the pedicure if bending down to paint them myself becomes harder. I will probably still like jazz, and I will probably have worked my way up to straight espresso.

What will you be in twenty years?

Stick to the Real News, Please

I am So Very Tired of the invasion of privacy that comes with each presidential election in the modern political climate.

John Edwards had an affair. So? Does it change his political beliefs and political record?

Sarah Palin's daughter is pregnant. So? Does that change who she is as a politician?

John McCain thought about leaving the Republican Party. Cindy McCain won't release her tax returns. Barack Obama received 15 parking tickets as a college kid that he didn't pay until 17 years later. Michelle Obama is on the board of a company that sells pickles and pepper to Wal-Mart. So? So? So? So?

I will vote based upon the individual candidate's espoused political stances and track records. Paparrazzi-ish stalking of candidates and sifting through the lives of the candidates and their entire immediate families cross the line in my opinion, and I want no part of it. Is it any wonder that the people best qualified for high political office in our country will not undergo the microscopic screening we call the electoral process?

Cooking up Memories

As Luis left to get some water from a local artisan well today, he made an off-handed remark as he walked out the door. "Why don't you womenfolk bake something?" He said it in jest, just to get my German up, but it worked for me. We were out of bread anyways. This late in the day, straight bread was a must, and since we are in basil/tomato days, a baguette to support bruschetta seemed in order.

As I started in on the bread, Isabella popped up questioning what she should make. Papa did say we should make something, not just me. She thought No Bake Cookies were a good idea, and who was I to disagree?

I love watching the kids make No Bake Cookies. I remember being their ages and coming across the recipe in a Little House on the Prairie cookbook. I remember mixing, stirring, feeling so big for using the stove, spooning the hot mixture out onto waxed paper, and failing to wait for the cookies to cool completely before starting to eat them. Watching the kids make the same cookies always takes me back to the farmhouse kitchen with white formica counter tops and mom's green cooking pots, working with my sister to scoop out the cookies.

I hope the children have similar wonderful memories as they watch their own children make No Bake Cookies some day.

Just Peachy

Luis has finally figured out that home canned peaches are a world better than Dole makes. That makes me happy. I have also discovered the the leftover syrup in the jars makes a lovely drink when mixed with white wine and seltzer. Yes, I know. I am weird.

So with Luis making inroads into the peaches I had canned for Isabella this year, I was happy when the fruit guy offered me another thirty pound box of dead ripe peaches today for the same great price. How could I say no? It was not how I intended to spend my afternoon, but I now have more peaches in syrup on the counter, slices freezing on cookie sheets and a big batch of peach butter bubbling away on the stove top.

I think the fruit guy has figured out that I am a sucker for a super deal.

In order to facilitate the afternoon's peach-a-thon, I mixed one toddler, one full peach and a half an hour in the high chair. I should have had my camera out, but of course then I couldn't have been canning the peaches if I had been taking photos. When he was finished, Simon required a shower and two hair washings. I think he might still have some bits of peach in there, but it was worth it.

Abundance

I do like opening my pantry or freezer and seeing the fruits of my summer labors stashed away for winter's enjoyment.

Cucumbers, finally fully pickled in the fridge and heading off to the freezer.

The tomato harvest has started in earnest. I did my first batch of sauce this week. We have yellow pear tomatoes this year in addition to the standard reds that I always grow. The yellow make a sweeter bruschetta, which Isabella loves. I prefer the slightly more acid red tomato bruschetta, though.
The onions did okay this year, though they did not turn out as big as I would have hoped. I have a number of braids hanging in my basement now. I only had enough onions for about eight braids, so I doubt this will last past fall. Hopefully I can grow them larger next year. I am not giving up on larger onions yet!The first batch of tomato salsa recently joined the peaches, jams and syrups in the pantry. It turned out a little spicier than intended, but I can make some milder for the children later.

The Strands of Time

It is only hair, right?

Then why is it that snipping a few wispy strands can instantly transform a baby


into a boy?

I am not ready for my baby to be this big yet. Then again, I am not ready for my first baby to be a decade old either.

We've had bad luck with our kids - they've all grown up. ~Christopher Morley

Random Thought Over Dinner

Does it count as fusion cooking when you serve Afghan flatbread paninis topped with Italian salami and a combination of Swiss and English Double Gloucester cheese?

Or is it just a dressed up grilled cheese to make the kids happy while not heating up the kitchen too much on an August evening?

Summer Concerts Continue

Music outdoors is so much better than anywhere else.

I do love that our friends include us in the group invited to intimate concerts on their farm. Where else can one listen to a Celtic drummer while sitting on a tricycle or playing on a seesaw?




The musician was Reagh Greenleaf, soon to be wanderer as he crosses the country on foot in a journey he has called Earth Walk. It was a pleasure to spend some time listening to him sing and play.

While I am sharing photos, here is Abigail in Fiddler on the Roof. She's in the purple pinafore. It was a great production by Monroe Theatre Guild. While I am glad the grueling schedule is finished, Abigail is naturally sad to see it end. She is already planning for this winter's Christmas Carol.

Once in a while, trust the experts

When shopping at the cheese store, if the cheesemaker holds up a hunk of cheese and asks "Did you pick this up? It is excellent, a real steal.", you buy the cheese even if it is not at all what you had come in for.

Holy moly, he was not kidding. The cheese is a Gruyere from Switzerland coated with herbs along the rind. It is absolutely amazing.

Always listen to Bruno the cheesemaker.

Spreading the real food word

A friend of the girls' was over for dinner tonight. Part of the way through dinner, she asked "Do you make all of your food?" I had to smile as I replied that we usually did. Dinner was pasta with choice of two sauces (shrimp, broccoli and wine or a majorly doctored-up jarred tomato sauce) and garlic-oregano bread made with a ricotta bread I baked yesterday. To drink, they were having Rhubarb Fizz, a yummy homemade rhubarb soda.

The look on the little girl's face was priceless.

For dessert, they went outside and ate mulberries as they picked them right off the tree.

I love helping others taste the joy of fresh, wholesome, homemade foods.

How can you complain?

Walking through the foyer this evening, Luis and I spotted the ball of orange yarn left over from the Traffic Cone. Knowing that Vincent had been playing with it earlier, we called up to him and asked why the yarn was on the staircase.

His reply? "Oh, that is my elevator."

Now how can we grumble about his leaving a ball on the stairs after that reply? It called for a smile, a hug and a demonstration of his totally cool " 'vention".

Oh, and on a total tangent, also mentioned in the post I linked to about the Traffic Cone was a comment about being nice to my sister. I must have been reeeeaaaallly nice because she brought me about 30 pounds of blueberries that she had to pick herself. While on vacation. My sister is the coolest. *mwah* Thanks so much, Squirt!

An evening well spent

The smells: candle wax, rosemary, lavender, wine.

The sounds: throbbing drums and melodic vocals with a background of crickets, the clang of finger cymbals.

The sights: hurricane lamp stage lights reflected in a mirror echoed by the flashing of fireflies, the silhouette of potted plants lining the walls of the ruins of the barn as the sun sets.

The tastes: Iranian noodle soup, hummus with pita triangles, rhubarb cobbler, melon

The touches: the squeeze of a friend saying hello, the caress of a baby swaying to the beat and snuggling in as he gets tired, the sharpness of rocks underfoot.

A concert and potluck at the Piazza is a feast for the senses as well as the stomach. Tonight brought Salaam Shalom for our listening pleasure, a twelve person ensemble including belly dancers that played a variety of songs, mostly Middle Eastern or Jewish cultural songs. Terry and Nancy organize these gatherings, and what a wonderful experience they always provide. I do not think I have ever experienced a concert anywhere else quite like those at the Piazza.

Worth the wait

So yesterday I had a hankering for a good beef and onion panini. I finally ate it for dinner tonight.

First I needed beef, but mine was frozen. I pulled out a hunk to thaw in the fridge. This was one of those times where a microwave would have come in handy, but anything worthwhile is worth waiting for, right?

Since I had to wait for the beef to thaw, plenty of time to make good bread. A panini without good bread is not worth eating. Baguette normal from Local Breads fit the bill, and I made that yesterday.

I came home from the office to thawed beef, so I sliced it up. Some got cooked for a future batch of fried rice, some for stir fry, and a couple of thin slices for my sandwich*.

Out to the garden for a sweetly acidic pear tomato, an onion and three basil leaves. Caramelize some onion, slice up the tomato.

Spread a little mayo on the bread. Stack the beef, onion, tomato and basil, top with a thin slice of good Swiss from Alp and Dell. Grill lightly on the panini press.

Mmmmm, dinner is served. A meal worth waiting for.

*Yes, I made this only for me. The rest of the family had other food, nothing that I had to slave over. I can be selfish that way sometimes.

Handwritten note received in the mailbox today:

Isabella, Abigail and Vincent!

You are invited to a water ballon (sic) fight.

Where (last name of kids on the corner)
When Today July 27 @ 1:30 PM
RVSP come to our house to help fill water balloon

Apparently we are formal enough around here that written invitations are de rigueur for water balloon fights!

I read this tonight and it resonated, especially as I keep getting distracted by glimpses of fireflies out the window to my right. Life is passing like those flashes, faster every second.

“What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.”

~ Crowfoot, Siksika Nation chief

I was inspired by Trey to try my hand at making peach butter this year. I am so glad I did. It is incredibly yummy! All the other peach butters I have ever tasted have been spiced and not my cup of tea. Trey's recipe is just pure peachy goodness.

And so this year's peach preserving season draws to a close. Peaches in syrup, peach salsa, frozen peach slices for smoothies, peach pie filling and peach butter. It is supposed to last until next year's peaches, but I give it all until mid-February at the latest. I lurve me some peaches.

Randomness on a Friday evening:

~ Hot fudge sauce should not be so easy to make. I am tempted to eat far too much of it when I know I can have a batch made in a mere 5 minutes.

~ Surely I cannot be the only person who seems incapable of reading those verification words that are all over nowadays thanks to smart bots crawling the net? It always takes me two or three tries to get the ones on yahoo because they run the words through a fun house mirror before posting them.

~ I vow to be really, really nice to my sister in order to get some fresh Michigan blueberries when she travels there.

~ Summer cooking is not my thing. I am a definite fall and winter cook. I look forward to hearty soups and pasta dishes again in a few months. The only shining star of summer for me is bruschetta. As the tomatoes grow even larger, I am counting the days until I can make this again.

~ iGoogle is da bomb, so handy for keeping links and newsfeeds right there. I love my iGoogle home page. I hadn't checked out themes for a few months and wow, are there lots of new ones! Pages and pages of themes that were not there last time I looked. My iGoogle is so pretty now.

~ I am knitting a chullo for Abigail for winter with some Cascade 220 Quattro in a variegated orange I picked up with Joan and Lisa recently. I made it slightly pointy on purpose, and the thing looks like a traffic cone. Seriously. The only thing that saves it is the natural stripes I put in. Abigail loves it, but we have already started calling it the traffic cone.

My kitchen is about nine hundred degrees and I probably stink of sweat right now, but I am happy. Why? The fruit guy offered me a killer deal on Missouri peaches (yes, Amy, as good of a deal as the fruit people coming on Friday). I took thirty pounds off his hands late this afternoon.

Peach pie filling is now in the freezer, and seven quarts of peaches in heavy syrup are pinging as they seal on my counter right now. I still have eight pounds of peaches left. The question is do I turn them all into peach butter tomorrow or do I make a peach cobbler and leave the rest for fresh eating?

Such a delicious dilemma.

I was reminded today of how privileged we are and how precarious our life is here. The city is working on the road the runs perpendicular to ours, and they hit something they should not have. Suddenly and without warning, we had no water. It was the middle of a hot summer day, and I had no water for my children. We do not buy bottled water, so there was nothing. I had just started a load of wash, but the water stopped before the tub filled. I had also just spilled a lot of espresso, but I had no water with which to wet the cloth I was using to wipe it up.

Fortunately for us, our dear neighbors still had water, so I filled two pitchers there for us. Those two pitchers instantly became precious. I have always been one to harp on the kids about only taking what they can drink and not dumping out full glasses of water, but if they did not finish their water and no one else drank it, it went to the plants. Suddenly, those partial glasses had to be hoarded in the refrigerator.

It was an interesting experience, thankfully short-lived. It showed me a place where my preparation is lacking. I need to keep a few jugs of water on hand, just in case, for the future. I need to research some storage options because I do not want to pick up a few jugs at the grocery that will sit there leaching chemicals out of the plastic for the next year until they are needed.

The experience also showed me that I am privileged. If my neighbor had not had water or had not been home and we had a dire need of water, I could have walked to the office to fill a jug or gone to the store to buy some. Not everyone in my town, in my country, in my world has that ability. I am thankful that I have that option in my life.

Recent conversation between Isabella and myself:

Me: You know you are my princess.
I: But no one else knows I am a princess.
Me: Does that really matter? You still are a princess to me.
I: Yes. Other people should know I am a princess.
Me: But being a princess isn't about what other people think. It is about acting like a princess, being kind and considerate, being helpful. That makes you a princess.
I: I know. But I still wish that everyone would know that I am a princess.

Do you hear that, world? Princess Bella Bee* would like you to acknowledge her royalty. She is ready and waiting.


*It is actually Princess Bella Bee Bubble Butt, but she gets mad when we say that last part. Really, I cannot imagine why. I just have to add it on mentally.**

**Footnote add-ons inspired by Annie over at The Daily Digress.

I just had a fantastic blog topic; I swear I did. I just opened up the dashboard ready to write, and while the screen flipped, I turned to my agenda for just a second to cross something off my to do list.

Poof

There went my blog idea. I remember that I had an entire thread of thoughts ready to go. Could I tell you what those thoughts were? No. How utterly absurd.

Such is my life.

If anyone finds my brain, please bring it back to me. I could use it.

I was playing around in photoshop, and discovering ways to make black and white photos to really pop. Whaddya think?

Original:
Retouched:

I do love photoshop! So many fun things to learn if only I had unlimited time to sit and play with it.

I was a schoolchild through the eighties. During my youth, the home computer established its foothold in American society, going from novelty to common tool to almost reaching the status of one of our perceived rights (though I fail to find "bear arms and laptops" in the Bill of Rights).

I grew up composing essays and reports on lined notebook paper, then typing them out on the computer for the final edit. I did the same in college, but somewhere between graduation and now, I learned to compose my thoughts while at the keyboard. Personally, I think that is yet another thing I can thank yaaps for, but I digress.

So the other day, while waiting for the children at swimming lessons, I decided to use the time to write a blog post. I pulled out my pen and my Circa notebook (woohoo, Levenger!!) and...nothing. No thread of text pouring out through the ink. No idea taking seed and blooming into a post. No inspiration at all.

Later, at home, I sat at the keyboard to nurse the babe, and the post about procrastination flowed out. Have I lost the ability to compose my thoughts on paper? While environmentally sound, writing and editiong on a monitor is not as satisfying as simple paper.

And so I forced myself to write this post down in my Circa notebook and typed in like the days of old. Just for nostalgia's sake.

Photo Day!

My darling nephew and his mother whispering softly into his ear:
I do love baby feet:
Cousins, but which feet belong to the toddler and which to the tiny baby with enormous feet?My princess Bella:
Cheesy grins are par for the course with Vincent:
Abigail is growing up so quickly:
Simon loves life and it shows:
One just because I like it:

Sometimes children can be a wonderful source of procrastination ideas. "Oh, I really should go fold laundry, but it is more important to sit here and hold the baby or read to the child."

Other days, they give me the push I need to get the jobs done. I had a load of laundry hanging on the line, and as hot as it has been today, I knew it was dry already. I had another load ready to go out, but I really did not feel like doing it. I was considering procrastinating long enough that there would not be enough sunshine left to dry the second load.

Then I looked out the window over the kitchen sink.

Abigail and Vincent had three quarters of the dry laundry taken off the line. If that was all done already, what excuse did I have not to hang up the second load?

Procrastination killers!

When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you, till it seems as though you could not hold on a minute longer, never give up, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn. ~ Harriet Beecher Stowe

Some days, I just need to remind myself of the above words.

For as much as we think that we are a unique place and time in history, reading quotes from a century or a millennium previous that echo the rhetoric and catch-phrases of today show me that human nature has been unchanged for centuries. It makes me feel less like an explorer in a new, unexplored wilderness and more like someone who is retracing a path traveled by many people before me. The physical setting may be different than in Beecher Stowe's or Aristotle's time, but the sentiment is still the same.

It is good to have friends who garden and travel.

Our dear friends have been out of town and generously offered me a day in their garden to pick the ripe produce. What fun! All of the benefits of an enormous garden, almost none of the work!

I learned that Simon loves pea pods, and that he will sit quite happily in the grasses playing with Vincent for longer than I imagined he would if bribed with this fresh food. Two gallon buckets of free strawberries have been turned into jam 6 quarts of jam and two quart bags of frozen berries, and I have a bag of frozen pea pods waiting for winter meals now too.

Our own strawberry harvest may be nearing its final days, but the halcyon days of basil and tomatoes are just around the corner. The tomato plants have started to set fruit, and I can see baby squash on the vines already. The cherry tree will have a small harvest this year, but the young blueberry plants have a few berries on them that are growing fatter each day. Summer's bounty has begun.

Has the general public of the United States forgotten what real, ripe produce tastes like?

I wonder about that question at this time of year as the bounty of the harvest begins. We stopped buying much of our produce in general supermarkets a few years ago because, after comparing the taste of our garden produce to the supermarket produce, we realized that supermarket produce was wooden, tasteless.

As I dip my fork into a strawberry shortcake made with berries that were ruby red in the sun only a few hours ago, I relish the taste of the perfect ripeness. No berry picked half a country or half a world away last week and flown in to the supermarket can possibly compete with the flavor explosion of a berry picked and eaten the same day. Even if we are gifted with fresh strawberries in January, I would rather feed them to my chickens than eat them myself because I know from experience that I will be disappointed with the flavor, the texture. Summer fruits are a treat because they are fleeting. I am okay with eating these foods only when they are locally seasonal because the flavor is worth it.

A friend has a t-shirt that reads "Does your tomato have more frequent flyer miles than you do?". No, and I prefer to keep it that way even if it means no BLTs in March or bruschetta in May. I'll savor these foods all the more for it.

Her name is Roxy and she just happened to follow me home (after I put her in the back of the van...).

Isn't she pretty?

The children and I will be tooling around town this summer on wheels of the self-propelled kind. It is a quick ride down to the park where the girls play softball, and less than a ten minute ride to the park where the swimming pool is and where Vincent will have Little League. I bought a trail pass, and we discovered how easy it is to get to the grocery store or produce store by hopping on the bike trail. I still have to work with Vincent a little on bicycle safety, but he is getting the hang of riding on the road with the rest of us.

Simon enjoys the bike trailer, but I do have my eye on an iBert front carrier for him. Won't the mint green go so well with my sherbet pink Roxy? For trail rides of a longer variety, we want to pick up a trail-a-bike for Luis' bike. Vincent wears out more quickly that the rest of us, and I would rather not pull both boys in the trailer.

Yesterday, the children and I went on a ride to the car wash to say hello to Luis who was down there. Thanks to the nice low center bar on Roxy, I did not even have to change out of my summer skirt to ride down there. I felt so June Cleaver-ish!

A while back, I said that something common has low value. I was thinking about this again recently while in my garden.

It is the time of year to pull the dandelions and wild carrot out of my flower beds again. They are not bad flowers; in the right arrangement they can be quite pretty. The bright yellow dandelion is a spot of color after a tough winter. The huge umbels of wild carrot (or Queen Anne's lace) are lovely in a floral arrangement. The only problem is the flowers are too common, too abundant. The little peeps of color of a violet come at the same time as dandelions, but they are more valued because they do not spread as easily. The flowers of a dill plant are quite similar to the wild carrot, yet I plant the dill as I rip out the other.

I never rip the dandelion out of my yard because they are pretty and I do not mind the children picking masses of them for bouquets. I do try to get the flowers picked or mowed before they go to seed, though. As for wild carrot, it is insidious. I pick it willingly knowing that there is enough of it around that I'll never get it all. I do stick it into a few floral arrangements every year too. Just to show that common does not mean pretty.

I am living on the edge this spring day. I am ignoring the clouds and hanging laundry up outside. Rain drops, hold off until this evening please!

My last post mentioned how I love the domestic arts. I really do. There is something so satisfying about keeping a home for my family. I enjoy focusing on the various tasks around the house.

Ironing is not something I find to be a chore. I enjoy the repetitive actions of it. It is refreshing to have a job that is so clearly finished. The shirt starts out wrinkled and with each pass of the hot iron, the fabric smooths.

Cooking, as you know if you have read my blog at all, is one of my passions. I revel in it. It melts away my stress. The other day I was hit with a stunning migraine. I had not had one like that in over a decade. After time in a dark room and some medication, I was feeling a bit better, but it was not until I started dinner that I could feel the last of the migraine go. Standing there over the cutting board, creating matchsticks out of the carrots for egg rolls, mincing the onion for the fried rice, I could feel the layers of the headache peel away until I was refreshed. Mixing up scones, forming breads, the culinary arts are an escape for me. When cooking or baking, I have to focus on what I am doing or risk ruination of the food. It is living in the moment.

Gardening is peaceful. Outside with the sun shining down or the breeze ruffling by, hand digging in the dirt, I am connected with the earth, helping provide foods for my family.

Even mundane chores like laundry and sweeping are enjoyable for me. They are repetitive, simple, freeing. It is like knitting stockingette stitch in the round - simple tasks to occupy the hands while the mind roams free.

Now, life being as it is, I do not always have the time to be the homekeeper that I want to be, which can be stressful, but for me, most of the time, the domestic arts truly are a pleasure.

Another day of rain here means no homeschool gym for us today. Instead, it is an afternoon to warm a mama's heart. Isabella learned how to shape a baguette properly and did a stellar job for a child. Now the girls are camped out with two of my cookbooks trying to decide what type of cookies they should make. At least they started off talking about cookies. I hear them mentioning pies and sticky buns at the moment, so we will see what they end up doing.

After the baking is done, I think the sewing machine will come out so that Abigail can make some bag holders she promised relatives. She is excited about her developing sewing skills.

I love the domestic arts, so it makes me happy to pass the skills on.

I have been photographing the children lately. I have not been able to capture an image of Isabella to match with the rest of the set yet, but hopefully I can soon.

The weather was raining today, so we are hoping that April showers bring May flowers holds true soon. Yesterday, though, we were able to work outside and in the gardens. The compost piles have been sifted through and turned for the spring, with wonderful rich compost spread over the garden beds. We had so much ready this year that some went into the outdoor chicken run. The chickies have been having a field day scratching through it for insects and treats.


Simon is getting the hang of walking on the uneven ground outside finally. At first the vastness of the outdoors seemed to scare him, but now he is enjoying being out there. He complains if the older children are out and he cannot go as well. I am hoping he will not have his older brother's love of eating dirt, sticks and rocks.


When I was clearing the leaves out of the front flower bed, I was thrilled to spot countless ladybugs under them. After seeing nothing but Japanese beetles in recent years, or so it feels like, the plethora of ladybugs was fabulous.

Breezes play melodies of light on petals
Each note calling to birds, bees, and lady bugs to linger awhile
Drink in the nectar and radiance of spring.
~ excerpt from Promise of Spring by Ann Winter

Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. ~ John Emerich Edward Dalberg Acton

The situation in Texas with the fundamentalist LDS church reminded me of this quote. I find it can be applied to all sides of the evolving struggle.

Polygamy, when all parties enter into it freely and with full awareness, is no one's business but that of the the people involved. Period. Polygamy is not the issue here.

Abuse is never acceptable. Unfortunately, the church sects that practice spiritual polygamy also are structured in a way to give absolute power to some members, the men. There are some men who can embrace what they see as the right religious path, a fundamentalist religion the embraces spiritual polygamy, without entering enter the realm of abuse of power. These men and the women who freely consent to this life should be left alone to live their lives and raise their families.

The problem is the men who become corrupted by the power given to them by their religious path. They may start out with noble and wonderful intentions, but along the line, they become corrupted by power. Forced marriages? Not acceptable in our country. Underage marriages? Not acceptable in our country. Any sort of abuse - physical, verbal, emotional or the other kind (that I do not want to type out because I do not want my blog to pop up in a google search for that term)? Not acceptable in our country.

The problem is also in the people in the government who are corrupted by power. Do they have documented evidence of abuse? What right do they have to forcibly remove and separate over four hundred children from the only life they know? If they have documented, clear cases of abuse, they have every right to do so. But do they have the evidence? This mysterious girl, their informant, is no where to be found. What right do they have to lie in order to separate children from their mothers? Do they have evidence the mothers are abusing these children? If so, why return the mothers to their home or offer these women places in battered women's shelters? If not, why separate them? Why only separate mothers of children over age 5? What is so special about that arbitrary age? If the mothers should not be with the children, if there is a real reason for the separation, why can the mothers of younger children stay? Does the government have evidence to back up its claims of abuse or are the official becoming corrupted by power and using this power in a Nazi-esque display of power that should never happen in our country?

Finally, the media. Absolute power is given to the media in our society and it has corrupted. What is the real story here? It is a story of possible abuse on a large scale or is it is story of religious and personal expression? These people have every right to dress how they see fit. There are many women in this nation who wear dresses and have long hair for religious reasons who are not members of this sect. There are countless women who wear dresses and have long hair for other reasons too. Raising children in a strongly religious home or without TV or in an intentional community is not the story here. These people are not automatically guilty because they are living and raising families in a way that is outside the mainstream in our country. Report on the real story - the allegation of abuse, the lack of proof given to this point and the violations of civil liberties of the people involved in the debacle.

If it emerges that there was a large scale pattern of abuse in this community, then the government will have acted correctly in stepping in, but I will still question the treatment of the women and children removed from the community. If concrete evidence of abuse does not exist, it will not actually matter because of the way the media has handled the situation. These people are now guilty of something, anything, in the minds of much of the American public simply because of the way the mainstream national media has handled the situation.

There are few things as sweet as a baby giggling in his sleep.

The snowdrops and crocus are up, finally. Winter is holding on hard this year. Other springs, we have had daffodils by now. I am always so happy to see the little spots of color in the flowerbeds. When I was out taking photos the other day, I smiled to see the determination of spring's flowers. The crocus obviously was under too many leaves, so it grew straight threw a hole in one of them.

Oh there are so many wonderful quotes about spring, I hardly know which to use. The first for its beauty, the second for its humor and the third for its truth:

“The splendor of the rose and the whitness of the lily do not rob the little violet of it’s scent nor the daisy of its simple charm. If every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its lovliness.” ~ Therese of Lisieux

“Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe full of slush.” ~ Doug Larson

“The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month.” ~ Henry Van Dyke

Have you heard? The country is facing recession! Ack! Ack! The sky is falling! Check out the blaring headlines and listen to the news stories!

Bleh.

Why is it when the people who study these things ask people in the US about their opinion of the economy, many people say that we are facing economic downturn BUT when asked about their own personal finances, things are peachy keen jelly bean? Seriously, I was reading up on this phenomenon recently. People are worried for the economy in record numbers, going back to 1993 rates. However, the same people's personal finances are doing just fine and they are not facing any issues in their work or housing. Where is the economic downturn? Where? The media talks about it constantly, but if things are as bad as they are saying, more people in the US should be seeing more difficulty in personal finances.

The media has a lot to answer for. Sensationalism and hype have replaced accurate recording of facts. News morphed into news and commentary which morphed into commentary with a little bit of news tacked on.

I am sick of it.

Between TV, radio, internet, newspapers and magazines, people can mainline news all day long. The glut leads the news anchors to talk, talk, talk, crossing the line from reporting to commentating. Turn it off. My request for the media: Get back to straight news in reasonable amounts. Turn off the live news feeds, figure out what the actual story is before reporting on it. Relearn to the fundamentals of journalism and apply them.

I read something today that totally resonated with me. It was the motto of the Kitchen Sisters, who are featured on NPR.

Talk with strangers.
Especially strangers bearing produce.

As we approach farmers market season, I plan on taking this advice to heart. Go visit your farmers markets and do the same! I am anxiously awaiting our farmers market open date. I thought I stocked up on enough of Noel's Huckleberry Jam to last all winter, but alas we ran out a month ago.
I was reading another article on NPR's website this morning. I love their food section. The article was about gourmet cooking with items from the dollar store. You can read it here. Who knew I was cutting edge?

I enjoyed reading about the revelation of food shopping at the dollar store. We may not shop at an official dollar store (I do not think I have ever been in one, to tell the truth), but I do hit the local bargain store every week for groceries. It is my go-to place for cereals and refried beans. I know that I can find organic salad dressing there for $1 or less, coconut milk for 35 or 65 cents, Annie's macaroni and cheese for 35 cents, Fruitabu for 10 cents. The range of organic foods can vary greatly, but if I am willing to look, it is surprising what I can find. Just yesterday I picked up organic microwave popcorn for $1.25 (no, we did not buy a microwave, Vincent likes it for art class), organic chips for 75 cents, Kashi cereal for $1.75, homeopathics for $1, and a small bottle of olive oil for $1.75. I have to take a minute to check dates, but the bargains are fantastic. Once I bought a bottle of 12 year old balsamic vinegar for $2, and I pay only $7 for a gallon of olive oil.

I have a friend who jokes that there are two types of people who shop the bargain store. There are the ones simply looking for standard american diet foods at a lower price and then there are the foodies who know what a great bargain those Mi-Del gingersnaps and balsamic vinegar are and who know what to do with oyster sauce or that coconut milk.

I do take issue with their statement that it is difficult to make a three course meal for a family of four for less than $20. If using convenience foods, sure it could be tricky. However, a three course meal made from scratch for a family of six usually costs me less than $10, $15 tops if we are having something pricey. Flour, sugar, eggs, seasonal vegetables, meat bought in bulk are not that expensive, even organic. However, you have to know how to cook them. I abhor the loss of cooking skills in our country, but that is an entirely different post.

Welcome to double digits, peanut butter! I love the young woman you are growing to be.
As for you, my darling baby boy, I swore that I would savor every stage of your babyhood, knowing how fleeting it would be. Still, I cannot believe how time has flown and that it has already been a year.
Happy birthday to my birthday buddies! May you celebrate many more together though the decades.

Just a preface ~ Whooo boy, did I ever ramble tonight! Seriously, this one came out of left field and it not at all what I sat down here to type. The fingers have minds of their own sometimes.

I was reading an article this evening about the global spread of the English language. I had not thought about that more than in passing before. Sure, it registered that English was being taught in schools around the world, from dusty barely equipped schools in Ghana to elite academies in Hong Kong. I had never stopped to consider the ramifications of this though.

Apparently no other language ever has dominated the world like this. In countries like India and China, the population is starting to consider knowledge of English a basic skill rather than foreign language learning. Really. A basic skill for people in Asia. That blew my mind. The flip side is the implications for people in native English speaking countries. Are we at a disadvantage because so many of our people do not speak 2,3,4,5 languages, even haltingly?

Many in the US, too many, have a superiority complex with language skills that is completely unwarranted. I know people who get upset about immigrants who do not possess excellent English skills. This makes me shake my head in frustration. That immigrant who is being mocked by the US citizen is making an effort to learn a second (or third or fourth) language. The number of adults I know who possess even halting language skills in a second language is minuscule. The average US attitude towards languages is egotistical and absurd. As English becomes more common in the global community, it will be even easier for native English speakers to communicate anywhere, but at what price? Something common has low status.

One of my goals for this year was to become proficient in Spanish again. After tonights reading and giant tangential leaps, my desire has redoubled. Maybe I will think about boning up on my German too.

Random thoughts on a Friday evening

~ Giving away clothing because it is too big is a wonderful feeling.

~ Giving away your children's clothing because it is too small is bittersweet.

~ Can you feel Spring? I can. It is in the starting gates, chomping at the bit waiting for those gates to open.

~ I adore the Habitat for Humanity Restore. It may be hit or miss, but I can find some lovely things there and feel good about supporting a good cause. If only there was one closer to me.

~ There are far too many recipes for chocolate cake out there. I am trying to find one that I had saved somewhere for a bittersweet chocolate buttermilk cake with a chocolate and mascarpone frosting. Where could I have put it? I need a chocolate cake for the party tomorrow and I want to make this one. It seems like I can find every recipe but this one.

~ Two more weeks until I can start my seedlings for the vegetable garden. Two! Hurray! Itty bitty broccoli and tiny tomato plants! Little basils stretching to the lights next to diminutive pepper plants. I have been reading the Jung's catalog, but I keep changing my varieties. Decisions, decisions.

~ I made some bread earlier this week that was out of this world good. I might still be working on my rye techniques, but wow, the sourdough baguettes I am making these days are on par with anything I have ever purchased from an artisan bakery. My father-in-law requested that I make him some Cuban bread, which made me feel fantastic.

~ I wish the family was more adventurous with their palates. I have been playing around with non-Italian Mediterranean and Indian foods, but the only one who really likes them is me. Sure I will cook for myself, but it takes the fun out of it. I truly enjoy cooking for others. At least the kids are enjoying fried sweet potato chunks when they would not eat sweet potato before. Luis likes some of the Indian dishes, but mostly prefers pasta dishes with simple butter/wine/garlic sauces and meat of some sort. And his eggs. That man can eat eggs more often than anyone I know.

Winter has been over the top this year. Someone told me that this is the most snow we have received here and the most snowfalls we have had since people starting keeping track of these conditions. There has been so much ice that it has been dangerous to shovel the snow off of sidewalks in places because the grit of the snow preserved a little traction. The kids and I walk many places downtown, and I am tired of wading through slushy puddles and snowdrifts, tired of wet cuffs on my pants and the cold shock of snow getting into my shoes when the drift was higher than anticipated.

One thing I am not tired of though is the beauty of the snow. We had yet another snowfall late this afternoon and evening. Huge fluffy flakes floating down to coat the granular snowbanks. The tree branches are coated with sticky, fluffy snow shining in the moonlight. I should be bored to death of snow. Instead, I was reaching for my camera a little while ago to try to capture an image of the snowy trees in the night.

There is a privacy about it which no other season gives you.... In spring, summer and fall people sort of have an open season on each other; only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself. ~Ruth Stout

I know spring is coming; I can feel it in my bones and in the energy of the earth. I know that there cannot be too many more of these snowfalls coming. So I will savor these even as I am tired of them. Even as I curse the slush and heating bills, I will enjoy the beauty and the time that they give me for quiet reflection. This winter has kept us shut in more than usual, hibernating. Is that really such a bad thing?

Let us love winter, for it is the spring of genius. ~Pietro Aretino

Not even a year and he is walking already!



















Of course, crawling is still easier...

If you are a parent, go listen to this now. Do not just read the article. Listen to the full story. Go ahead, it is less than 8 minutes long and it is important.

Old Fashioned Play Builds Serious Skills

I have always believed in giving the children free time to just be. It shows in their imagination and their play. I know that I am not just making this up as their mother; I have heard it over and over from other adults in our lives. I have also believed in limited screen time for kids and in not inundating the children with toys. It is nice to have my "wacky" beliefs validated.

The choices we make for our kids today influence the choices they will make and the skills they will have tomorrow. I firmly believe that the skills I see them developing in their free play will make a huge difference in their adult lives.

My hands are growing older. I have always had smooth hands, soft hands. Lately, I have noticed that my skin is getting drier. The landscape of my hands, the lines in the skin, are growing more visible. Is it my imagination or are my knuckles growing larger, more pronounced? My new, older hands remind me of my grandmothers.

I feel like they should remind me of my mother, but they do not. Her hand are quite soft for a woman in her late fifties, the skin growing crepe-y, but not drying. I do not see the knuckles and the lines in her hands like I see developing in mine. Instead of mom, when I look at my hands, I see my one grandmother shuffling cards and my other grandmother holding a crochet hook.

I look in the mirror, and I see traces of the face of the girl I was in my teens. I look at my hands and I see signs of the woman I will be in my sixties.

Is there anything as precious as a newly born child?

I am feeling random again tonight...

Perusing the King Arthur Flour catalog or Levenger catalog late at night is as dangerous as browsing ebay in the wee hours. When sleepy, I can almost convince myself that yes, I do need both a nutmeg mill and cinnamon grinder as well as a yogurt maker, professional kitchen scale, and brotforms from King Arthur. The Levenger 3x5 system (with both the leather folio and desk holder) makes so much sense to my sleepy mind, and wouldn't the wood and leather Cubi Collectionbe exactly what I need to sort out the desk in the kitchen?

Is it weird that I browse baking and organization catalogs like a kid looking through the JC Penney toy catalog? I even circle things that I will likely never purchase, even if I had a gift certificate, but that I would probably love if they were to magically appear on my doorstep one day.

What did appear on my doorstep today was a new set of Calphalon pans. I had bought a set of Simply Calphalon three years ago. When I bought it, I knew that it would not perform as well as the Calphalon Commercial that I had, but I was expecting better than what I got from it. That set left me feeling ripped off like no other purchase I have made in recent years. After calling to complain about two years ago and getting my concerns pooh-poohed, I had resigned myself to simply simmering about my pans while my lasagna sauce simmered. Recently, I noticed the emergence of a new layer of color in the interior of a few of the pans, and it was the straw that broke this camel's back. I called again to complain and this time was taken seriously. I sent the entire set back for warranty replacement, and this afternoon a new set of pans appeared: 8, 10 and 12 inch frying pans; a 3 quart skillet; 1, 2 and 4 quart sauce pans; and a 6 quart stock pot. I had sent back an 8 quart stock pot, so I called to question the smaller size. I was told to keep the 6 quart one and they would send out an 8 quart as well. Hopefully this set performs more like Calphalon should, even if it is the cheaper cousin of my beloved Calphalon Commercial and Calphalon One Hard Anodized.

Given redundancies in my pot and pan inventory now that I had received the replacement sets, I am thinking of selling a few of the new ones on ebay. Would that be bad? The three quart skillet and 12" frying pan are both nice, but I like my Commercial 12" Everyday pan better. I like my little 9" Calphalon One skillet so much that I question whether I really need an 8" frying pan too. I do think I'll keep redundant 2 quart sauce pans because that is such a handy size, and the multiple stock pots are good for soup nights.

We do need to hold another soup night soon, maybe next weekend. I do enjoy the companionship of these evenings in, even when it is just us and another set of good friends. I do not think I have any untried soups in my recipe box anymore though. Maybe it is time to browse through Epicurious and my cookbooks some more. Ooo, and what bread to make? Honey oatmeal of course, because I love that and rarely make it (too many calories and too yummy to be left alone with me). Pumpernickel? Sourdough? Grandma's? French? Italian? Polish Rye? Yes, I do think we need a soup night next weekend.

I have come the the realization recently that cooking, specifically baking, is a passion of mine. I love doing it. Love measuring out the ingredients, wiping my hands on the aprons, mixing the doughs, forming the cookies, watching the air pockets form in bread doughs, shaping the croissants, tweaking recipes out to my moods and tastes, experimenting (the recent strawberry cream cheese sourdough croissants were a Very Good Thing *swoon*). I love sharing the products of my efforts with others. It is a personal expression from deep within me.