Meditation, with Blueberries, a Photo Essay

My (then soon to be) father-in-law got me a cookbook called "Cookies: a Cookie Lover's Collection" for Christmas in 1996, 6 months before I got married. The inscription says "To Kathi on Christmas 1996, Just a bit of sweetness from a crusty old man to a great daughter. Hope this will stand you in good stead throughout the years trying to keep that hubby of yours satiated. Love, Dave" I haven't yet cooked through the book in its entirety, but I am slowly progressing and would say I've baked at least half the recipes. I have other ways of keeping Lawnboy satiated, but nobody wants to hear about that. I'm just saying that I haven't applied myself to making all the recipes because we've been...busy.

Um, where was I? Yes, the cookies.

Today, our blueberries needed harvesting. I was trying not to make muffins with them, because a)the blueberries are delicious raw, and b)seriously, who needs another muffin? I'm partial to cupcakes. Then Lawnboy and I had a conversation about cheap desserts, and I thought I should bake some cookies. Lo and behold, a recipe for Blueberry Lemon Drops beckoned me and I was able to check one more recipe off the list! I documented the whole thing in photographs for your viewing pleasure. These cookies are quite delicious, nice and tangy with fresh bursts of berries. You should bake them, I mean it.

Blueberry Lemon Drops

2 c. all-purpose flour, + 1 tablespoon for berries
1 c. fresh blueberries
1 c. sugar
1/2 c. butter, room temperature
1 egg
1 1/2 t. freshly grated lemon peel
1 T. fresh lemon juice (don't cheat here, or you'll regret it)
1 t. baking powder
1/2 t. baking soda
1/2 t. salt
Oven: 375 degrees

First, go pick about a cup of blueberries. Alternatively, acquire them from your local organic berry farmer. Then, when you get them into your kitchen, stick them into a small, cereal-sized bowl and cover them with about a tablespoon of flour.


Now, go zest your lemon, like this.




And juice it. You can strain the seeds later.


Now you can stick your butter, the sugar, the egg, the lemon peel and juice into your mixing bowl. See?


Beat all that on medium speed for a few minutes, until everything is smooth, light and fluffy.
Not there yet:


Ahhh, here we are!


Now you're ready to add your flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Just dump it right in, like so.


At this piont, stir it all together on low JUST until the flour is all mixed in, and it forms a little ball in the middle. Not too much, now, or you'll make them tough. We wouldn't want that.


Now you can take a rubber spatula and very gently fold in your blueberries, trying very hard not to break them up, but also trying to distribute them evenly throughout the dough. It's a delicate balance, but you can do it.


It should end up looking like this. Can you tell that most of the berries are still whole, and they're pretty evenly spaced in the dough?


Now you're ready to plop them onto your greased baking sheet or your preheated baking stone. I used both, but I like how they turned out on the stone. The well loved, messy-looking stone.


You might be wondering how I was able to get to this point uninterrupted. I cheated. Yogurt, pretzels and a high chair.



All that's left is to put them into your hot oven for 12 minutes, take them out, and let them cool down on the racks. I highly recommend cooking each batch a slightly different length of time, because sometimes it's nice to have a darker, well-done cookie, and sometimes you want a squishy, light one. Note we have both. Also note how much effort it took to keep our dirty mitts off these cookies until I could get a picture of the full racks. Man, the willpower in this house is amazing. Especially when I'm standing by the rack with a hot spatula in my hand.



The cookbook said this would make 2 dozen cookies. I'm stingy and make small cookies, I guess, because I got 6 extra cookies out of this batch.

See how easy that was? For goodness sake, what are you waiting for? Go eat!

More Moneymaking Adventures

We are having a garage sale next weekend. Dad had one a week ago, and we thought it would be good for us to dump some of our crap on unsuspecting strangers.

I mean, you know, sell our valuable pre-owned items to sharp bargain-hunters.

I cleaned out The Amazing So and So's dresser and closet, and Fezzik decided to part with both pair of his cleats because he's "never playing baseball again." Sorry Auntie and Grandpa, looks like my tall boy didn't like it.

Tackled the linen closet today and I'm embarassed to admit I found a pile of brand-new bath toys underneath the towels and pillowcases. The bath toys were a baby shower gift, 18 months ago. Yay! New stuff! The boys are both currently playing with these new toys.

I should go up into the attic and get down a couple bins of toys we put up there to swap out. It would be fun to watch them play with Lincoln Logs that have been put away since last summer. Although, I'm really hoping that the clouds will dissipate today and allow us to set up the Slip N Slide. I'm ready for another weekend of summer.

Things I Own and Love

I know you're not supposed to be so attached to material goods, but let's face it, we all are.

I bought my first Green Man, the one in this picture, at Rosslyn Chapel in Scotland. You might have read about that in The Da Vinci Code, but we went before that book was published. Or if not before it was published, before we'd read or heard of it. Anywhoodle, the Green Man I bought there was a cast of one inside the church. Green Men were a pagan tradition that got adopted into Catholicism in England. I just love stuff like that - "Let's convert these heathens. Hmm, how should we do that? I know! Let's just tell them that everything they already know and believe is a part of OUR religion too!"

I went on to start a small collection of them, and when my mom died, I inherited half of hers. The six of them now hang on our walls to protect us and connect us to the trees. And also, to look cool.

Update on Clothesline

We recieved the clothesline on Tuesday, and of course it rained so we couldn't use it. Fezzik admitted that he thought we were nerds to be so excited about a dumb clothesline.

Not that it phased us.

It stopped raining yesterday, and we load-tested the line. It's up to snuff! I spent some time this morning hanging clothes in the quiet. An obnoxious Stellar's Jay came along and interrupted my reverie, but I didn't mind because those feathers are my favorite color. I tried to get a picture of him, but he was uncooperative.

We've got three loads on the line, and there's room for one more.

Nerds!

The First Shoe Dropped

I've spent the last month agressively chewing my fingernails for nothing, apparently. My forehead (and now chin) can return to their normal, unblemished state, thank you very much. I can get a decent night's sleep, finally.

You see, I was not laid off today.

Phew, I think.

I was really upset about the handful of people I know who were. Some of which had great passion for what we do. Others of which have families to feed, clothe and shelter. I'm sick about that, actually. I think the bad skin is here to stay for a while.

It was so weird sitting at my desk receiving the IM's from other friends who "made it through" - "Are you ok?" How do I respond to that question? Honesty wasn't the best policy here. I'm glad I was able to maintain my composure enough to say "I'm ok, and I'm glad you're still here."

I used to work for a company that put its people first. Not so much, anymore. We were told to "stay focused" today. We did, on our shock.

Don't tell anyone, but I cracked open the flask I keep in my bottom drawer. It was there in case of emergency.

I feel like this is melodramatic, but it was quite a big deal to me today. If you've been paying attention, you realize that my job is not my life, but the thing is, I do need it. And I'm freaked out about the alternative.

Sweet dreams.

Baby Giveaway

I've been getting familiar with Naturemoms blog, which has some pretty decent information. She seems like someone I'd like, which is a prerequisite for me to get involved with new blogs. Addict much?

She's having a cute baby stuff giveaway today. All you have to do is leave a comment on her post here: http://www.naturemoms.com/blog/2008/07/28/bloggy-giveaway-natural-baby-prize-pack/. Stacie, Sandra and Scarlet, it was written for you.

Things I Love, but Don't Own and Can't Afford

News Flash: Etsy is a veritable treasure trove of covetabe stuff. I think this little pillow would add a bit of wonky style to our living room, and pull together all things English in my house: the barley-twist mantle clock and dining table & chairs, the Green Men, and my Spode tea set. Isn't it cute? I've been drooling over the Karen Hilton Designs Etsy store for a year now. Enjoy!

Soap Opera

Those of you who know me (probably) know I used to make soap. I loved it. That's not entirely true, because making soap is a pain in the ass. I like a couple things about it - namely the creative process of coming up with a new scent or emmolient blend, and most of all, the end result. Hand-made soap is so mild and our skin thanks us for using it.

Life has been in the way of our soapmaking adventures for the past few years now. I used to sell it to Lawnboy's cousin, who owns an herb shop in Montana (our aloe & tea tree soap had a standing order with one of her customers, they claimed it was the only soap that helped their psoriasis). But, I got lazy (I call it busy), and Solsitce Soap kind of dropped off the face of the earth. I haven't even made any for our own personal use in this time.

This period of laziness is over. Lawnboy came home from work yesterday and said "Let's sell our soap again. You be the creative and marketing departments, I'll be the manufacturing and distribution departments."

We're going to spend the next month building up an inventory of different soaps, and also SETTING UP OUR ETSY STORE. There, I said it. I already have some ideas for the shop, and mark my words: two months from now, at most, you'll see a link here to our brand spanking new Etsy store, where you'll be able to choose from at least 10 different soaps. All of which will have been made, and will be shipped the day after it's ordered.

More to come.

And, if you have a favorite scent or a particular skin problem we can try to solve through soap, feel free to leave it in my comments.

The Missing

Mom would have been 62 today. I miss her very, very much. She was my friend, my role model, my Mommy.

Happy Birthday, Mom. I hope you know you set the bar really high, and I strive every single day to be as good a mother as you were. Thanks for giving me so much to miss when I think of you. And so many good memories to look back on and laugh until my sides hurt.

Today's lessons:
1. Be kind to everyone you encounter.
2. Especially your family.
3. Laugh as much as you can.
4. Check your boobies for lumps, and go to the doctor when you find them.
5. Cancer sucks, but it makes you appreciate what you have. Don't wait for something scary to start appreciating what is right in front of you already.

Ten Random Things We Do on the Cheap

Sorry if this bores you to tears. There aren't any earth-shaking new tricks here, I am just jotting these down as motivation for myself to stay on track with our budget. Today is payday, and normally I would go out and buy whatever I've been coveting for the last week. I can't do that anymore, as our priorities have realigned. You get to read about it.

1. We don't buy (very many) commercial cleaning products. It's been said before, but vinegar and baking soda make perfectly reasonable scrubbers and disinfectants. Also, your 7 year old could make a volcano out of them if he wants! We add lavender or tea tree essential oils when we're cleaning the bathroom for the extra disinfectant power, and the delicious smell. The best part is that none of these things are carcinogens.

2. We (try really hard to) create a weekly menu, based on the food we have hoarded in our pantry, and stick to it. Lucky for us, I'm a complete freak about having a trillion different grains on hand, so at any given time we could cook up a barley pilaf, falafel, spanish rice, couscous, split pea soup, tabbouleh, polenta, or any combination thereof.

3. Lawnboy always packs leftovers for his lunch the next day. And sometimes the day after that. And the day after that, too. We have a big freezer, so when I cook for an army, we freeze the leftovers. I, on the other hand, get totally bored with food and can't eat the same thing day in and day out, and I usually resort to buying Lean Cuisines. I'm embarassed to admit that, but it's true. I get them on sale and use coupons.

4. We garden. A lot. There are fruit trees and bushes in our yard, too. We have pears, apples and blueberries. Next year, I'm hoping to add hardy kiwi to that mix. Oh, and most importantly, we eat the stuff we grow. And if we grow too much, we share with our friends. I'm bringing two heads of lettuce to work today for that reason. I should really bring kale too, but we seem to be the only ones who eat that weird stuff.

5. You might infer from the last post, we don't use our clothes dryer in the summer. Our clothes last longer, we don't use nearly as much electricity, and the sheets smell so good. Crunchy towels aren't my favorite thing, but you get used to it after a while.

6. Speaking of towels, we reuse ours instead of washing them after every bath. I go through 2 or 3 towels a week, which saves on laundry, time as well as money.

7. We wash and reuse our plastic ziplock bags until they have holes in them. I've been known to rescue bags that belong to friends/family, before they hit the trash. I draw the line there though. No dumpster diving for baggies for me.

8. We don't have cable t.v. We have the cheapest Netflix subscription, which stands in nicely for the shows we miss by not buying cable. Bonus - we only watch the shows we really want to see, skip the commercials, and best yet, we don't spend nearly as much time watching t.v. anymore.

9. We used to eat out at least once per week. We've whittled this down to once or twice a month. I'm not gonna lie to you - this is my least favorite strategy. It is fun to have friends over and cook for them, though. Having friends over means we're motivated to really clean our house, too.

10. We prioritize, and the things we really want get bumped to the top of the list, so we don't feel deprived all the time.

Things I Own and Love, but Don't Possess (Yet)

When we were in Italy in 2004, we stayed at an amazing Agritourismo, Villa Stabbia.

They generously allowed us the use of their laundry facilities, which consisted of a nice Bosch front-loader washing machine. Instead of a drying machine, there was a T-rack clothesline outside our front door, right next to the orange tree. Our clothes have Never. Smelled. Fresher.

Moments after we cleared customs on the way back into our country, we ran to MacLendon's Hardware to pick up an umbrella-style folding clothesline. The model we bought cost $75, and lasted just one year before the cheap aluminum arms and plastic joints busted on us. We had saved enough on electricity costs by not using our dryer that we had enough in the bank to get another one, which lasted another year and then busted on us too.

Because my darling Lawnboy refuses to throw anything away (am I guilty here as well? Probably.), we now had two identical clothesline thingys. Which meant Lawnboy could patch something together in a time-consuming, but not too quality, method (sorry, Babe, you know it's true). He "fixed" the clothesline by putting together the good parts and slapping the sad, bent, sagging thing back up. Then he put the broken bits back in our shed.

This year, we delicately loaded our clothes to make sure they didn't break our precious clothesline. It was doomed from the start, but we gave it a go. It broke on us last weekend.

We had already decided that we didn't want to buy another piece of crap that would break within a year, so Lawnboy went on a hunt for a Quality clothesline. He found one. The TS-140 has all metal joinings (not plastic like our old one), and is guaranteed not to break for 10(!) years. We bought it yesterday and anxiously await its arrival.

I suppose we should throw the other ones away at some point.

Dragon Arms

I dragged my boys to the Mediterranean Festival this weekend, at which I was to spend $200 of my boss/friend's money on belly dancing accoutrements.

Success! I came within $3 of her limit, and I totally scored.

The list of items acquired:

• 1 BEAUTIFUL silk veil - hand painted in copper, dark rose and dark brown/copper tones
• 1 jewel-toned paisley handkerchief-hem wrap skirt- knee length, reversible to a pretty floral print
• 1 AMAZING hip scarf with v v v v v pattern coins, very jingly, gold coins, and coppery tie-dyed fabric
• 1 copper-coin belt with u-shaped coin lengths
• 1 matching copper anklet
• 1 pretty burgundy petal skirt

Also, Fezzik came away with a sweet henna dragon on his arm. He walked around SO PROUD of that thing all day. We went back in the late day, and he found the artist who had painted his dragon earlier, and said to her "See? It turned out GREAT! And did you notice? My arm is really a lot stronger now!" He held up his other, weak arm for comparison.

Something's Wrong

There's something that has been bugging me since I've been on my own, making a living for myself: How do people live such extravagant lives?

I have gone through periods where I've run up a ridiculous (to me) amount of debt. I've (to be honest, WE'VE) worked hard to pay it off. A big portion of an inheritance windfall went to our credit card, student, and car debt, and for about a year, we felt comfortable. Not rich, by any means, but comfortable enough to buy groceries without worrying about coupons or sales, enough to take the kids to Disneyland, etc.

But in order to stay out of debt, we are now realizing that we need to go back to worrying about that stuff.

We realize that some would consider our daycare costs (as much as our mortgage) excessive, and we go camping, and we usually haven't stressed about it much when the boys need, or even want, something. We both put the maximum matched amount towards our 401(k) plans, although that amount is nowhere near the 10% retirement-savings goal we have.

HOWEVER!

We live in a tiny house. Our cars are old, and paid off. We split our schedules so as to avoid daycare for the older one. We have a garden; we buy our kids' clothes, toys, and books used at least 80% of the time. We buy some of our own clothes used too. We don't have expensive habits - no boat, no smoking, drinking or illegal nastiness, no naughty internet subscriptions. Since we've had the 2nd kid, there have been no vacations off the continent (those 2 trips to Europe were worth the debt, I still believe). Our new kitchen cabinets are coming from IKEA, at a cost of $3,500, as opposed to the $8,000 we could have spent on the stuff we'd prefer.

What gives?

Just last night, The Mayor announced he would be buying a Cadillac for his father-in-law. He was also the recipient of a $900 pool cleaner Dolphin for Father's Day. Other friends buy houses in The City, and immediately undertake $75,000 remodeling projects. These people all have kids, too, so I would imagine their monthly stipend isn't much bigger than ours. We went to a wedding last weekend that was beautiful and amazing and more fun than I've had in years, but probably cost more than my annual salary. I know these folks could probably afford it, but there's no way on earth we could. I just don't get it!

Ok, I've got to run now, and stop complaining. These coupons aren't going to clip themselves!

Stuff I Own and Love

Item #1, the Sarah Utter "reading is sexy" mug.

Why do I love it? You had to ask?

1. Obviously, reading is very sexy
2. It's yellow, with a rad bright green font
3. It's made from corn plastic, and 100% compostable

On Wedding Cakes, and Knowing What You Want

My dad is getting married next month, and the biggest decision he has to make is about the cake.

He invited me to his day of cake tasting, and when he did, I immediately started drooling, imagining all the lovely frosting-coated sugar bombs we'd get to sample throughout the afternoon. He set up appointments (or so I thought), and we were set to leave promptly at 2 pm one Sunday.

In the car, on the way to the first bakery:

"So, Dad, what bakeries are we going to today? "

"Bakeries? Plural?"

"That's usually how these decisions are made."

"Um."

Soon after, we pulled into the parking lot of the bakery where my own wedding cake was procured. In the door in a flash (we both walk fast when there is cake nearby), we had our tasting plates loaded up with 6 (mine) to 12 (Dad's) different flavors in a heartbeat.

We grabbed a seat in the little display room, and when the first bite of the first flavor (tiramisu) was still in his mouth, Dad said "Yep. That's it. That's the one."

"Dad, this is MY wedding cake. Exactly my cake. Don't you want to try another flavor before you declare a winner?"

"Why would I need to?"

"Look, I grabbed your fiancee's favorite flavor (white cake, strawberry filling, white chocolate frosting). Try this."

(chews) "Yeah, not as good as the first one."

"Dad, you can get different flavors for the different layers if you want. See? Here's a good one - passionfruit filling. It's good, isn't it?"

"Nah. Let's go put a hold on the wedding date."

And we did. The baker told us that she didn't need the final details until two weeks before the wedding, so we decided to leave.

"I wasn't kidding when I told you that your wedding cake was the best cake I've ever eaten."

"Dad, I don't remember you telling me that. When?"

"At your wedding."

"Eleven years ago."

"Yep. Come on, Kiddo, let's go. I've got things to do today."

The Excitement Never Ends

This morning, after Fezzik's alarm went off, he came in to snuggle up with us. As all four of us lay there in varying states of waking up, Charlie the cat came prancing into our room.

I happened to be sitting up, trying to get up the motivation to get out of bed. I saw Chuck first, and he appeared to be carrying a small, furry animal in his mouth.

I said "Um, Charlie has something gross in his mouth." Lawnboy jumped a bit when I said that, and looked over at him and said "It's another damn mole!"

What the heck?

We're considering hiring him out for mole eradication services.

Gross, though, that he was showing off to us in our BEDROOM. These are the times when I'm most glad I married Lawnboy. Because I love it when he takes care of removing all the dead mammals from our home.

Transformations

I have hinted at it in earlier posts, not at all subtly, and as anyone who comes within a 20-foot radius of me on any regular basis knows, I am officially obsessed with belly dancing.

Sorry Jess, it's true. I know it bores you. I'm ok with that.

Last week's technique class focused on whirling, like Whirling Dervishes (only less Muslim, and less male). I can absolutely see why whirling like that is a religious experience. We learned how to focus on a spot on our hand (wedding ring came in handy, literally), and we were able to whirl nonstop for over 4 minutes, the first try.

Remember twirling around in a pretty party dress when you were 4? It's still amazing and totally worth it. Try.

Last night, we had an introduction to American Tribal Style (ATS) belly dance. Wow, a spiritual experience for me.

One of the things I adore about our workout class is that most of the time, we're dancing to upbeat, hip-hop Arabic music. Which, in case you were unaware, is REALLY GOOD.

But ATS belly dance is different. The music is smaller, the beats are from a real drum, the dancing is more focused. The idea (qualification: I am NO expert yet) is that the group dances very precisely, in unison. In "tribal fusion," which we normally dance, we're all interpereting the dance in a personal way, so we're all over the place, even if we're doing roughly the same movement. The precise, uniform dancing of ATS was trance-like for me, and really, really powerful. I'm not even sure I have words to express it just yet. Something about joy.

I'll work out the rest of that thought, and get back to you. For now, know that belly dancing is important to me, and not just because of physical fitness.

Dans le foret et la mer, or Ode to Carrie

Spent the weekend camping with an old, dear friend and her family this weekend. Aside from the midnight crying baby (ours), it was time extremely well-spent. Our parenting styles are very similar, our kids get along like they've known each other all their lives, and it made for a weekend of fun.

My friend is fluent in ASL and teaches Cued speech to transliterators. She has inspired me to pick up the pace with signing with my little one. We saw crows all over the place, and he picked up "black bird" today. He's smart, have I mentioned that?

Just as I had been in 8th grade, I am again in awe of my friend's internal beauty and the peacefulness that she exudes. She is an amazing, calm, loving and peaceful mother, and her babes are two of the luckiest on earth.

I have teased her for the past 18+ months about the fact that whenever we see each other, her husband has been mysteriously absent. I called him her imaginary husband and when we invited her to our camping trip, I wondered if he would show or not. Perhaps he'd have to work, or maybe he really doesn't exist. On the phone, when we were planning our meals, she told me that she'd found a nice actor to portray him all weekend.

She found a great actor/husband. He fit right in. It's so nice to hang out with people who are so normal, so like us. They are smart and funny, basically they're better-looking, more accomplished, fitter versions of us. Really, what's not to love?

Our boys were granted pocketknife privelages over the weekend, and boy, did they ever think they were cool. We caught them using them in the woods a couple times, and I ended up revoking the privelages for a period, but they earned them back again after a while. Basic rules: carving your spear at the table = good; scratching your belly with your knife on the trail = bad.

We granted Fezzik a lot more freedom this weekend than we ever have. He was allowed to explore the woods with his buddy, out of sight of his parents. He did great, and I think we'll need to give him some more freedom in other facets of his life. I worry that I spend too much time envisioning my kids' tragic demises, and loosening the umbilical chord doesn't help. I know that I owe it to him to trust him with more freedom, but what about the other people, the ones I know I shouldn't trust? It's a dilemma that every parent faces. I hope I'll get through it. There are so many horrible things that happen every day. Maybe I should stop watching the news.

Exploring the tide pools was fun as usual. We got the honor of finding many sculpin under the larger rocks we overturned. The tides were unusually low on Saturday, and attached to the rocks where the sculpin were buried, there were hundreds of pretty yellow eggs. A few of them were hatching and we were able to watch a few tiny, wiggly fish hatchlings squiggle their way over the tops of their brothers and sisters. Amazing. Also spotted were lots of starfish, a few jellyfish, a moon snail egg casing, tons of crabs, chitons, a few hermit crabs, and various segmented worms. And, in terms of mammals, bats greeted us at the beach while we watched the fireworks on the 4th.

When it was time for our friends to leave, their precious and precocious little girl said "Mommy, I am not going to miss Fezzik when we leave." "Oh? Why not?" "Because, when his parents aren't looking, I am going to sneak him into our car and take him with us."

That's basically how I felt about their entire family.

Sealing the Deal

Saturday was the 11th anniversary of the 3rd best day of my life: my wedding. I'm amazed at the love we still have for eachother, as well as the fact that we can still talk - not always about our kids - and that we make eachother laugh every damn single day. Yes, we've made some little mistakes here and there, and not every day is kittens, unicorns and rainbows, but overall, we're two happy people who love eachother deeply, and our friendship is strong enough to get us through the non-kitten/rainbow/unicorn-ey days.

Besides, how awesome is my Lawnboy? Each year up to this point, he has made me a gift by hand that coincides with the traditional anniversary gift. Last year was tin, so I got homemade wind chimes, made out of the tops of soup cans (it's really cooler than it sounds). He's ridiculous, and I've never reciprocated, if you were wondering. Eleven is apparently The Year of Stainless Steel, and a few days ago, he said "crap, I haven't figured out how to weld yet." I let him off the hook this year, but he came home with flowers and the new David Sedaris book anyway, which, if I am to be 100% honest, I'll probably enjoy more than I would a welded something or other.

He is the kindest, most gentle soul I've ever come across. I was lucky to find him when I did, even luckier to realize I'd found him, and luckier still to answer his proposal with tears and an immediate OMIGOD YES.

So, hooray for us!

Those other two days? If you haven't figured it out yet: January 17th, 2001, and January 31st, 2007. The days our gorgeous and amazing boys were born.

The Kale Dilemma

We have a problem in the garden: way too much Tuscan kale.

Lawnboy and I love it, and we appreciate the health benefits (did you know that a cup of cooked kale has more vitamin C than an orange? thought not, I didn't until yesterday), but we haven't found a way to force it on the boys yet without inducing Fezzik's gag reflex. "Mom, this stuff makes me kak!"

The other problem is that it's the only thing that's ready in the garden right now. And did I mention we have a LOT of it?

I picked about a pound and a half today, and here's what we're having for lunch.


Sesame Kale Salad
1 pound fresh kale
2 T soy sauce
2 T toasted sesame oil
1 T toasted sesame seeds (I'm out of these so we'll probably skip it this time)
1 clove garlic, minced
2 t honey (I used agave nectar)
1 T apple cider vinegar
dash of black or ground red pepper, or more to taste

Separate kale leaves from stems. Chop stems and greens. Steam stems a couple of minutes, then add the greens and steam until just tender. Drain; let kale cool enough to handle it. Squeeze out as much water as possible. Place in serving bowl. Mix the remaining ingredients in another bowl; add to greens. Mix, chill, and serve. Makes 4-6 servings. Or in our house, 132 servings for the boys, one forced bite per serving.

Feel free to comment with your own favorite kale recipes! Scarlet, I know you have some from your time at your dad's.

Just Wondering

Do any of you know how in god's name I ended up with such a skinny kid?

Dude is tall as hell but i just bought him a new set of swim trunks (size 8) and while they're sufficiently above-knee, even tied as tight as they go, they slide down his wee waist and hips until he's standing there naked.

This just won't do, they frown upon naked 7-year-olds at the pool. Well, the normal ones do, anyway. I guess I'll just have to run back to Costco and grab a pair of 7's.

In other Costco news, while I was standing at the optical counter waiting for my number (96) to be called, a crazy lady appeared out of nowhere, reeking of booze (yay, 4 in the afternoon even!) and barged right in on my turn. She was there to pick up her mother's glasses, and yelled into her cell phone, "Mom, I hate this place, you know I hate Costco. You talk to these assholes." and then shoved the phone in the optician's face. Not the best approach, in my opinion. The optician explained to her that while she wanted to help her, because she didn't have a Costco card, she could not process any transactions for her. Then she grabbed a supervisor and literally used him as a human shield between herself and this batshit. He was great, and in his best "I'm using my calmest voice to make sure the mental patient remains calm too" voice, he said "I'd love to help you because I would like you to stop yelling at me and leave the store, but I just can't process any transactions without a membership card." I thought his honesty was refreshing.

My number was called when all this was happening, and I said to the clerk "see those words on my Costco card? It says 'Costco Family' - that means that I'm going to be nice to you no matter what, because my husband works here." The clerk smiled and sighed, and the supervisor caught my eye and winked.

Blog Lite

Sorry, postings are going to be light this week. I'm taking a class at work all week and am running on about 4 hours of sleep. Three hours of bellydance classes after work yesterday didn't help my mind-numbness, either.

Although it did help my body. Have I mentioned that I LOVE BELLY DANCE CLASSES? Oh my goodness, I am obsessed. What an awesome way to exercise.

And speaking of belly dancing, The Amazing So-and-So was helping with laundry the other day, and guess where my dance veil ended up? Right in the toilet. I wanted a silk one anyway, they're much prettier. Time to go shopping!

Farmers' Market

Went there tonight on the way home, and HALLELUJAH! They have strawberries. See? That's The Amazing So And So, signing "more!" just off camera. And also, displaying his "you're totally not getting more fast enough" face.

You'd think the older one would be tempted by the pretty sights and smells at that market, or even the live music, but no. He wants nothing but to read his book, at any time. There he is, on the couch. And he spent 20 minutes at the farmers' market reading by the fountain. Does anyone know how to read a book in the shower? Because Fezzik would like to know.

The Pie to End All Pies

The latest Sunset magazine came for me in the mail on Saturday (thanks, in-laws! I still love my subscription!), and what do you know, within those beautiful thin, glossy pages, was a tip: Grandma's Secret Ingredient for Making Good Pies.

I had come across our blackberry stockpile when I was cleaning out our freezer to make room for all the supposed fish my dad was to bring back from Alaska last month. I'm not bitter, but the fish weren't biting. We have a half-empty freezer, which is fine, but we expected it to be filled to the brim with halibut. Whatever, I'm over it. I needed to use those blackberries up, though, before it's time to pick more this year. I had designs on making jelly, because who doesn't love jelly? But then Sunset arrived, and I was inspired.

I made a deeeeeeeelicious blackberry pie last night. So good, in fact, that if I weren't watching my girlish figure, I would have had a slice for breakfast. And lunch, and perhaps tea. And then, of course, it would be time for dessert. But I digress. Again.

I'm not a secret-keeper. I'll share the recipe with y'all. All 4 of you.

Blackberry Pie (Guts only - make your own crust however you want. Or not, this would make a fine cobbler too)

5 c. frozen blackberries
5 T. instant tapioca*
2/3 c. white sugar
1/4 c. brown sugar
1 T. lemon juice
1 t. lemon zest

*the secret ingredient

The lighting was bad by the time I finished it, but I promise to take it out on the patio this afternoon for a photo shoot. That way, you can see the insides - we'll have eaten about 1/3 by then, at the very least.

Nastiness, and a Confession in Three Parts

There are a couple things I need to get off my chest.

First, our county passed a law or an ordinance a few years ago that made it very illegal to trap, poison or kill moles and other "wildlife." While I voted in favor of this law, I admit that I'm still annoyed by the molehills in our lovely, dandelion-ridden lawn. The lawn is far from perfect, but it doesn't need any help looking worse!

Our dear Charlie, the laziest 23-lb. cat you've ever heard of, caught us a mole a few months ago, and considerately, he left it on the doorstep. Thanks, Kitty. Good boy. I thought that was the end of it, that he was so lazy and fat that it had to be a fluke, like maybe it was a deaf, gimpy mole who had the misfortune of tunneling up right where Charlie happened to be napping in the sun, and WHAM! The opportunist struck, thereby ending the sad life of the deaf, gimpy mole.

Apparently not. Chuck left us another prize on the doorstep last week. Thanks again, Kitty. Good boy.

Confession The First: I couldn't bring myself to, but I REALLY wanted to touch the fur on these dead moles. You've heard of moleskin, right? They looked so soft. Like,the softest things I'd ever seen. I wanted Lawnboy to skin them and make me gloves, but he wouldn't. For some reason, it was more acceptable for me to touch the fur after it had been detached from the rest of the poor guy's guts and such. Why???

Confession The Second: We're the type of parents who turn a dead mole on our doorstep into a science lesson for our 7-year old. Lawnboy found the dead dear on his way to work at 5 am, and kindly stuck it into a shoebox so we could all examine it at a more reasonable hour. Does that make us sick? I don't think so, it's nature. The field guide to North American Mammals tells us that this little guy was a broad-footed mole, or a Scapanus Latimanus, although I'm not 100% convinced, because they aren't supposed to live this far north.

This brings us to Confession The Third: We accidentally left that shoebox full of dead mole on the top of our milk box. We are also the type of parents who have milk delivered weekly, so there happens to be a galvanized cooler at our front door, so that our milk can stay relatively cold until we get home on Mondays. Sometimes we leave little notes inside the box. Other times, we leave little things like bags of cookies as a thank-you for the milkman. This time, we left our poor milkman a lovely dead mole. He must have kids too, as the box was placed gently aside, and the milk deliveries have kept up, uninterrupted since our little gift.

We've really got to tip him big this month.

Incredibly Unready

I got home for work tonight, and Fezzik was on the phone, outside, pacing around the patio just like his daddy does when he's on the phone.

Whoa, grownup.

I figured that it was his best buddy, but Lawnboy said "That's Lauryn. They've been talking for 20 minutes."

Lauryn is one of Fezzik's three girlfriends, and the tallest, most mature of the bunch. She's a beautiful girl, really lovely; but seriously almost as tall as I am. That just ain't right for a first grader.

You know what else just ain't right? My son, having three girlfriends.

She's calling back, tomorrow, after dinner. I have no idea when Madison and Smiti plan to call.

The Lodge

When we buy the property and build the cabin (it's going to happen, right?), I'm going to decorate it like a kook.

As if that's different than my HOUSE.

For the record, I do not have a cardboard moose head on the wall at the house, but that's only because I'm already at maximum wall hanging capacity.

Name That Song

If you were a Dead Milkmen fan back in the day, you may remember the song "Takin' Retards to the Zoo." (Sorry Mother-in-Law, I know, but I didn't name the song)

That's NOT what we did yesterday.

We signed up to be chaperones to Fezzik's class field trip to Point Defiance Zoo. We had a blast, for the most part.

One kid had listening problems, and while he was having fun, there were a few panic attacks when he ran on ahead and didn't listen to our threats: STOP! OR I'LL SAY STOP AGAIN!

Other than that, it was hysterical. The beluga whales were cool but sad in their little enclosure. Same with the walruses. The Sumatran tiger was curled up just like our Charlie cat, and I wanted badly to jump in and scratch her on her chin. Had to lead by example, though, and not. Marius was actually a very great kid - we put him in charge of the map, and he not only loved it, he was good at it too. My dear little Nik was cuter than a bug's ear. Why couldn't I have had freckles like his? Mohammed made up stories (read: lies) all day about the bears who eat mushrooms in his backyard, the Forest, and the time he jumped into a cage with a snake. Ok, interesting.

What was MY favorite part of the day, you ask? Why, of course it was sitting down at the end of the trip, talking to the kiddoes about thier favorite parts of the zoo. Why did I think they'd tell me about the animals they liked?

Nik: I want to go last!
Me: Ok, what about you Mohammed?
Mohammed: I liked the wolves, they're just like the ones in my back yard in the forest.
Me: Ohhhkaaaaayyyyyyy...Marius?
Marius: I liked the red wolves too, and their skulls.
Me: Cool! Fezzik?
Fezzik: The eagles, and the aardvark, and the owls, and the raven, and the sharks.
Me: Wow, that's a lot. What about you, Nik? It's your turn now.
Nik: I liked the bathroom. When we pooped.
Mohammed: Me too, I liked the elephant butts when they were pooping.
Me: My work here is done. Let's go meet the bus.

Wasteful Consumerism

Well hello!

It's high time I break this blog into categories.

This will be the one in which I discuss one of the things that annoys me most: the marketing of products we don't need and/or could easily, and better, make ourselves.

Exhibit A, the pre-cut, instructions included, cardboard Lemonade/Advice Stand:


What I find especially heinous about this is that a lemonade stand is something that is easily built out of a box. The kind of box that turns up in my own garage from time to time.

Not to mention that this imagination-killing, prefab piece of crap is being marketed on a couple of "green" products websites. What is the carbon footprint of shipping this baby? Because it comes from recycled cardboard, it's considered Green With a Capital G?

What the heck is wrong with using a box you already have? I'm sorry, but the awesomest part of a lemonade stand is when kids build it themselves. Plus, it doesn't cost $60 + shipping & handling (palm tree sold separately).

Vignette

Suchlike

I just used that word to tell my dear friend Scarlet that I wanted to know how to make THIS.

Yes. I said suchlike. What is wrong with me?

Cute l'il elf, though, no? It's the toadstools, they get me every time. Since I've had boys, my preoccupation with faeries has shifted to an obsession with all things gnomelike and elvin.

And is needle felting easy or not? Because as Scarlet well knows, when I said "I wish I knew how to do this" what I meant was "Please make this for me now."

First Goal Achieved!

Those of you who've known me long know that I've struggled with my weight all my life. I remember being called fat in daycare, which means I would have been about 10 or so, at the most. I go through periods where I want to deal with it, and periods where I want to pretend it's not an issue. The former turns me into an obsessive freak, which leads to the latter, and that is even worse for my health than being an obsessive freak.

Since losing my mom, and then having Tiny Giant Two (I'm reconsidering his pseudonym; his acrobatic skills make me want to rename him The Amazing so-and-so, I just haven't come up with the so-and-so yet), I've been examining what healthy means. I decided about a year ago that I really wanted to be around for longer than my mom was, and for me, that means I've got to get to a normal weight. I could talk all day long about fat acceptance, or my (low) cholesterol and blood pressure, but I'd be lying to you and to myself. So, on my own, I did some research, bought a couple books (namely YOU! On a Diet and The Beck Diet Solution), didn't read them cover to cover, but still lost a few pounds, and decided I needed more than my own self-control to keep going.


I joined weight watchers at the end of April, and so far, including the weight I lost on my own, I'm now down 25 lbs from my post-delivery weight with the 2nd child (probably goes without saying that it was my all-time high).


The best part is that I'm already discovering that some of my nasty food habits (eating in front of the t.v., anyone?) have morphed or gone away! I'm always critical of the prepackaged diets, i.e. Jenny Craig, for the simple fact that they're unsustainable. I need to permanently change what I put in my body, or else I risk failing again. I'm encouraged that I already have a better perspective on how much food my body needs (key word!), and that I caught myself picking up my knitting while we watched a movie the other night. Go me!

P.s. They're right: track what you eat, and you WILL lose weight.

Mad Hatter's Tea Party

Checking out those mushroom lamps got me looking at the other lovely, overpriced pretties at Rose and Radish.

I think my tea would taste better if I had one of these sugar bowls, don't you? What do you think - regular sugar, or cubes?

What's Up With the Garden?

The bean seeds aren't peeking up, and it's long past the time that they should. Maybe they were old seeds, maybe the baby seedlings were eaten by the rabbit, we're not sure. There's still time to plant more beans this year, so we just ordered some (thanks Territorial!). I wanted to grow Cannelini beans this year and dry them for use this winter, but it's not working well. I just ordered some violet-podded stringless pole beans. Why grow something green when you have the option to grow purple instead?

The kale and fava beans are doing great. We agree that the butterhead lettuce is the best lettuce we've ever grown or eaten, bar none. Even Fezzik is eating his salads, not just the tomatoes and cucumbers! Tender and sweet, the way I've thought all lettuce should taste.

We had a single pea come up. Again, I'm blaming seed quality or rabbits. It's too late to plant new ones but we'll get fresh seed next year and see how it does. I'm sad about this; peas are my favorite. Maybe a year without them will be enough to make the worms we had last year go away.

Tomatoes aren't looking too hot, but the weather hasn't warmed up yet so I'm trying to convince them that the sun is on its way here.

Carrots are barely up, and we've got to get a floating row cover on them before the carrot rust fly invades again. Potatoes are doing well, which is a no-brainer. The leeks are looking like green pencils right now, which is great. Herbs are out of control, it's ridiculous. Anybody need any rosemary? How about I mail you some oregano?

I took a look at the planting schedule this morning and noticed that it was almost time to get the overwintering stuff in the ground, so I ordered the following:

• Toscana kale (deeelish in minestrone or pasta e fagiole soup)


• Wild Siberian kales (an experiment)


• January King cabbage (purple outer leaves should be pretty in the winter. again, why green when there's a purple option?)


• Superschmelz kohlrabi (huge, soccer ball sized kohlrabi I tried a couple years ago at the Madison, WI farmer's market, so sweet and tender that I've been dying to try it ever since)


• Veronica broccoli (FRACTALS!)

I realize now that I forgot to order cauliflower. I hope the Veronica broccoli does well!

Tiny Giant's Room

If I had money to spend on frivolous, fun stuff like fancy decorations for my kid's rooms, they would look less like the thrift store showroom and more like a clean, Scandanavian, vintagey, but homey, room.

These lamps, for instance. I love these lamps. They would be perfect in the Tiny Giant's woodland-themed nursery, no? Along with the small, natural-wood framed pictures of deer, hedgehogs, and owls.

Click through to Rose & Radish for more pretties like this.

Things I Don't Get

Bright yellow Hummers (are you not conspicuous enough? it has to be yellow?)

Why Fezzik hates to play baseball, when he could be pretty good at it if he tried

Why Fezzik loves to dance, when he's got his dad's (in)ability

People who don't pay attention to their kids, or don't find them the best thing that ever happened to them, or don't make them their highest priority

Why my own brain doesn't always synch up with my mouth

The appeal of cherry-flavored anything

How Tiny Giant Two is already showing signs of being an adrenaline junkie

Polyandry

Artificial watermelon flavoring

Why I sometimes feel self-righteous, even when I realize that I hate that about myself

Scary movies

Pokemon

This is What Our Life Looks Like

Before & after the first haircut and the never-ending BIONICLES chronicles!

I'm Caught in the Grip of the City, Madness

Lately things are getting scary at work.

I really enjoy my little piece of this company. It even looks like I will be on the receiving end of a promotion shortly. However! My gut says GET OUT. NOW. WHILE YOU STILL CAN. People are "finding new jobs" in droves, and it's like, the last one to leave the building, could you please turn off the lights? There are managers, in my department, who are hosting resume workshops for their direct reports. Nothing says Your Job Is Not Guaranteed like your manager helping you get your resume up to date.

Change is scary. But is it scarier to wait until you're told that your specific function is unnecessary, or to go out now, and find something new? And should I wait until I have that fancy new title before I throw my hat in the ring, or should I do it NOW. WHILE I STILL CAN???

In short, eep!

True Confessions

I have something to tell you. I love *certain* reality t.v. shows. I know, most of you are shocked. "But how do you have such an immaculate house, if you watch t.v. all the time?" (haha, right).

Here's one of the best things I've seen in a long, long time. I even made Lawnboy stop what he was doing to watch this with me, and looked it up on Youtube to show Fezzik. Hopefully that will help me with my evil plan to teach Fezzik how to do this stuff.

Anyway! It's crazy awesome, and you can see it here. Please ignore the annoying hosts, just like I do when I am plonked in front of the telly. Enjoy!

Knew it All Along

to everyone but my dear Nicole, I apologize for my rambling nostalgia today.

The letter arrived on Saturday, and it's official: Fezzik has been accepted into the Gifted Program.

This means that he'll go to a different school next year, and he'll finally ride the bus (not sure if it's the short bus or not, but wouldn't that be funny?). Also, it means that I will miss out on my "daily" walk to school, as the new school is a long way from our house. If I had all the time in the world, or valued my sleep a little less, I could do it, but get real. I didn't get into the fantastic shape I'm in by walking 6 miles a day. This school starts half-an-hour later than the current school. The job that I need more than I adore will require him to ride the bus so that I can drag myself in at around the same late time as I do now.

It also happens to be my dear alma mater - Go Tigers! - and looking down the road, the 4th Grade teacher for this program was my 2nd grade teacher back in the day. I remember a particular incident in which Joel was yanked out of class for general naughtiness, and everyone in the class thought he'd been spanked. Big deal to a 2nd grader, but I'm sure he just had a Stern Talking-to. I also remember Steve drawing pictures of Porche 911's all the time. The same Steve whose mom drove him to school in the L'Eggs Pantyhose van, no kidding. Nicole, were you in this class with me? Do you remember this crap? Why is it still stored in my brain 25 years later???

It's weird living within a 1-mile radius of the place I grew up. I drove by The Homestead the other day, and noticed that my best friend's house, across the street from mine, is for sale again, the second time since her parents sold it a few years ago. Sadly, we still can't afford it. Even worse, the new owner has laid the groundwork to subdivide the gorgeous half-acre lot into 3 (!) separate lots. What about the barn, where we held our Very Important Barn Owls Club meetings, the one that Lucky the horse called home? Please, New Owners, don't tear down that barn. Get yourself a nice donkey, rescue yourselves a thoroughbred (it's been done - Lucky was a case in point), or why not have a few goats instead? It's the history of the place that's important. Pff. Money. Also, New Owners: the closet in the Blue Room makes for the best hiding spot during Hide And Seek, due to the convenient laundry chute into the laundry room half-a-floor below. Just FYI. And the basement can be conveniently lined with shelves; it is spacious enough to house every issue of National Geographic from 1955 on, and still fit a ping pong table. Make good use of this house, it's a great one.

Happy Mother's Day

Been battling a combination of bacterium and viruses (is that viri?) this week, but I do have a few pictures from before we got sick.

We went to the Seattle Tilth Spring Plant Sale last weekend, and while we were playing on the playground, we stumbled upon Dave Matthews, who was there with his wee toddler. We kept our cool, just smiled warmly at him, and he seemed like a really nice, involved dad. Oh, yeah, we bought some plants too.

Lawnboy and I are considering starting a new blog about our garden, because we're just that nerdy. We're using Steve Soloman's low-irrigation method wherever possible (my cherry tomato in the pot gets watered, thank you very much), so it should be an interesting year. We also figured out what kind of bug had the nerve to drill holes through our carrots last year, and have grand plans to avoid the bastards with floating row covers this year. The potato issues are still very much a mystery, but we planted some more this year as we got them as a gift from my coworker (thanks Sharon!).

My laziness knows no bounds, especially on this holy day. I told the fam that I wanted a day of "gluttony and sloth" but I don't think I'll realize that goal, due to the fact that my Weight Watchers meeting is tomorrow, and Tiny Giant Two was up at 5:30 this morning. Smiling though, so I can't complain.

We're off to Dad's for at least a little gluttony!

Graduation and Other Exciting News

The tiniest giant just moved up to the toddler room. Since this our last kid, for sure, it's bittersweet. He's walking! He's interacting! It's fun! But he's growing up! He growls at everything now... "What does a cow say?" "ROAWRRRRRRRRR" "What does a kitty say?" "GRRRRRRROWRRR" Drop your toy? Try growling at it to get it back! Want a different book? Simply growl and Mommy or Lawnboy will switch to another!

I promised Alice's mommy that I would update this silly blog with new pics, so here you go!

Bad Blogger!

So apparently having baby #2 sucks up any free time you might have earned back when baby #1 is no longer a baby. Since Jennifer is the only one who might be reading this anyway, I'm not too worried (although - MISS YOU JEN! Brent is nearly unbearable without you running interference!).

Updates, in no particular order. Aforementioned Baby #2 has been upgraded to Toddler status. Also a giant, he is not quite walking yet, but throwing awesome fits and inhaling every tiny object that crosses his path. Including Fezzik's Bionicle pieces (curse you, LEGO!).

Mean Old Aunt Mary was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. Yay, fun. Um, she was called Mean Old for a reason. We were serious before, but now it's horribly worse. My poor dad. This is the main reason I think people should have their own children. So that the people who are forced to care for them in their old age and dementia are guilted into it. It sucks to have to take care of your grouchy, confused old aunt. For a glimpse at what she's like, here's a fun little home movie (not from our home, but Hulk Hogan's mom IS my Mean Old Aunt Mary to a t, even down to tying gift bag handles together with curling ribbon, and announcing herself to salesladies in stores "I'm MEAN OLD AUNT MARY. THEY CALL ME MEAN OLD."). http://jezebel.com/370947/hulk-hogans-mother-is-awesome?autoplay=true

Dear Jesus, please do not let me live to this stage. Let me die before I get here. Please.

Fezzik is every bit as gifted and talented as we've suspected since his birth. He's getting tested for the Discovery Program. His imagination is one of my favorite things in the world. Last night he was afraid that goblins would kidnap him out of his bed and chew him to bits. Luckily our House Brownie, Mr. Swallowfall, left him a note and told him not to worry about goblins, they're almost extinct. If you have read the Spiderwick books, that totally made sense. If not, get yourself to the children's section in your library and get reading. Post haste.

Disneyland was a blast, for the most part. Except the hospital visit, and the annoying blood-sugar-and-money-related squabbles. I think we're going to keep the vacations to just one side of the family at a time from now on. Fezzik passed his Jedi training with flying colors. If you have a 7 year old boy, I highly suggest a visit to Tomorrowland at Disneyland at 11:00 am to wait at the front of the Jedi Training area. We always knew that The Force Was Strong With This One, but it was nice to have Darth Vader confirm it.

The garden is a joke this spring. There are a few fava bean plants, leeks and 4 Toscana kale that made it through the winter. Doesn't look like we're going to get peas in the ground in time. Sad how life gets in the way sometimes. I don't know what we're going to eat this summer, but it appears that it won't be from our own back yard.

I'm still obsessed with the idea of backyard chickens. Our neighbor Mayor Nigel has 4 or 5 laying hens and THEY'RE SO NICE. Lawnboy mentioned something about putting the cart before the horse, and that we need to have an actual henhouse first. I admit that my argument was pretty weak, "But the chicks! They have them at the feed store now! And they're so cute!" All in due time, I guess.

That's it for now.

Bonus

And, my husband so totally rocks. He made the best soup tonight!

Squash-Lentil Soup
Peel 1 butternut squash, halve it and scoop out the seeds, then chop it into 1-inch pieces; set aside
Chop 1 big onion up into smallish bits
Chop 1 celery heart into small bits
Chop 2 carrots (or the rest of the store-bought ones) into bits
Chop 4 cloves garlic to bits and pieces

Heat a large soup pot on med-high heat, then add 2 T. olive oil to pot. Add the onion, celery and carrot bits and fry for about 10 minutes, or until soft. You may want to adjust the heat to down if they look like they’re burning.

Add the garlic bits and pieces and stir. Then add about 6 cups water and the butternut squash pieces and about 1 c. lentils. Turn the heat up and when it starts to boil, turn it down and let it simmer, stirring every now and then, for about an hour. If it looks thick, add 1 or 2 cups more of water.

Time for the Hootenanny

We're almost ready for our pumpkin carving party this Saturday. I am not sure how we'll cram 14 extra bodies into our teeny tiny house. I do have plans to cover the tables in visqueen to catch all the guts. So excited about 10 lbs. of roasted pumpkin seeds!



Am having a ridiculously hard time sewing Liam's Jedi cloak. 3-D spacial concepts were never my balliwick. Just when I figured out how to sew the hood, the damn sewing machine broke! AArgh!

Libraries Rule

After taking a tour of the new-ish Seattle Public Library today, with an official tour guide, my fantasies of becoming a librarian were definitely fueled.

Seriously, it's time to get my arse back in school. Now, to figure out how to fund the endeavor. Donations can be made to our BECU checking account...

Scarlet and I have a plan to gain our MLS degrees (that's masters' library science, not to be confused with the real estate tool) whilst starting/running our extremely successful cooperative urban organic farm, a la those wacky Path To Freedom folks in Pasadena.

The question remains, once we have the UOF running, will we have time/the desire to acquire the schooling? As Fezzik is fond of saying, pro'lly not. And anyway, I did mention these were fantasies, remember? Sigh...The view sure looks great from here.

Attempted Sleepover

Last weekend, we invited Fezzik's best friend (who we'll call Tommy) over to spend the night. They had a grand time watching Star Wars Episode 1 (give them a break, they're 4 and 5 years old), playing with Legos and pretending to be robots.

When we tucked them into bed, they each got to pick a story. We read their stories and turned out the lights. They had flashlights, and about 45 minutes of nonstop giggling followed.

At 10:30, I decided it was time to turn out the flashlights (because Lawnboy had to work at 4 am, otherwise, I would have let them play). I went in, said "ok, boys, time to go to sleep. Tommy, Fezzik's dad and I will be right across the hall if you need anything. If you get scared, or wake up in the middle of the night, just come over or call us and we'll help you. We can call your mom and dad if you get scared, and they'll come pick you up."

"Ok Fezzik's Mommy."

Then, more giggles for about 10 minutes. Lan and I went to bed, and not 5 minutes later I heard a quiet voice say, "Um, Fezzik's Mommy? I am scared. I want my mom and dad."

No problem kiddo. We called them and read Dinotopia until they arrived.

Better luck next time.

Updates are for sissies

Well well well. It turns out that we CAN eat 40 pints of green beans in a year. Here we are in May and they're almost gone. We'll finish the last jar just before we pick the first bean from the garden!

Speaking of gardens, we have more potatoes than we'll know what to do with this year. Lawnboy went a little crazy. Which is fine with me. I should upload some pictures of the garden here soon.


What else?

Knitting has fallen by the wayside; paperback swapping is the new knitting.

Planning Stacie's bachelorette party, trying to keep it classy. We'll see if I'll be able to pull that off!