Take a Whisk

Munchies for Dinner

2010-09-28T15:41:00.005-05:00

We brought home some amazing cheese from Thunder Oak Cheese Farm in Thunder Bay, Ontario. We got to peek inside their kitchen and it was fascinating. What an amazing place. Do stop by if you're in the neighborhood. The location of this farm is unbelievably beautiful. Surrounded by mountains and gorgeous fields, I was tempted to become a Canadian farmer!

We bought their ~~rejects~~ ends and pieces. I'm just way to frugal to pay full price! This was a great way to sample many different flavors. We really loved the Extra Old Gouda, the Nettle, and the Cumin and Clove (weird, but delicious!).

Arriving home to the terrible news that my best nursing school friend, Angi, had died, I didn't feel much like cooking. In fact, I didn't feel much like eating. These cheese and crackers along with the recipe, below, made for a quick and simple meal. It was one of the first things I was able to eat.

Now, Angi, I know, would have made a fantastic face at this recipe. "What the hell, Beavis? Figs!!???" I'd give anything just to be able to share it with her.

Fresh Figs with Toasted Walnuts and Bleu Cheese

Fresh figs are only in sason a short time. I adore them and look forward to their arrival every year. We were served something like this at the New Scenic Cafe in Duluth, Minnesota. It didn't take me long to figure out just how simple and delicious this recipe really is.

Fresh figs

Bleu* cheese, locally sourced, please. I used Amablu

Walnuts, coarsely chopped

Honey or real maple syrup

a baguette, sliced thin. toast if you really want to go over the top, but not necessary.

Wash figs, cut in half, set aside. Heat a nonstick pan over medium high heat. Toast walnuts until they're fragrant and delicious smelling (you'll know when, be courageous and just cook by instinct--you can do it). Remove walnuts and set aside. Put pan back on the heat, add figs and cook until they are heated through and the juices start to release. This takes a couple of minutes. Drizzle with honey or maple syrup, and heat through. Place on a serving dish. Sprinkle with bleu cheese and walnuts and serve on thinly sliced baguette.

Messy. Yummy. You're welcome.

*I use the French spelling. Cause it's way more fun that way. And you can pronounce it BLAH and kids love that.

So Terribly Sad

2010-08-22T09:17:00.002-05:00

I'm trying really hard to get back into life, but I'm just unbelievably sad. My dear, dear friend Angi passed away suddenly last Monday. We had just returned from a camping getaway to Canada when we heard the news. Angi was 43 years old.

I honestly have been speechless only twice in my life. This is one of those times.

I want to write about all she meant to me. I want to write about the anger I have that a cardiac critical care nurse can die of a heart attack. I want to write about the ineptitude of doctors and my frustration with White Coat Superiority Complex. I want to write about why women still die of heart disease and how their symptoms are disregarded or diagnosed as hysteria despite how far we've come in other areas of medicine. I want to write about the clinical images I can't get out of my head of my friend, coding on a gurney before emergency angioplasty and lying in a morgue. I want to write about her husband, her teenage daughter, and all her family members and friends whose lives are empty now.

But, I can't. I can't minimize this life with mere words.

I can hear Angi in my head saying, "snap out of it Beavis", my college nickname from her that somehow remained far longer than her matching Butthead. I suppose not many people remember that show.

I can hear her laughter. I can still collapse in laughter because of just one word from her. Puddin' Long story.

There is a certain order of things and this just doesn't fit it. I will miss her more each day.

Military families make fast friends. Angi told this new Army wife that, "Army wives don't have time for BS." So, we made quick and very deep friendships not because we had to, but because we didn't have time for all the frivolous stuff. The Army moved Angi and Rick on, and we remained behind. I then found out how military families sacrifice way more than the obvious. These fast and deep friendships find you scattered all over the country as people are deployed, discharged, or move on. When others never leave their safe and secure hometowns or stay close in proximity to their college friends, our military families don't. If you can get anything out of this, other than to pay close attention to your heart health, I hope that you can have a deeper understanding of the sacrifices that military families make. I would never have guessed it, if I hadn't lived it. It's not just deployment or the danger of the job, it affects every aspect of your life, for the rest of your life.

Notable Quotable

2010-08-11T09:34:00.001-05:00

We can't do everything. ~Nora Ephron

Flash in the Pan

2010-08-01T09:40:00.000-05:00

I remember when I owned my business being floored by the PR and marketing world. While I knew it was pretty bad, I had no idea how bad it truly was. I was shocked by Paid Media vs Earned Media. We never paid for media attention. How silly of me to think that the news was actually news and not just an endless stream of paid advertisers! Many business spend their marketing dollars on "news" programs to make it appear that their highly sought after. And not only do most people believe it, they ask for second helpings.

I'm not a news watcher. The headlines make me crazy. Even public radio and TV can get under my skin. Donor is just another word for commercial and the bigger the donation, the more they get in attention.

We've come to a point in our society where young people are wrapped up in branding and marketing and turned into products. We steal their childhood before they even realize it's lost. Screaming teens are big dollar signs. Figure out how to create a hormone surge and they'll hand over their money. It's been going on for a long time, think The Beatles or Michael Jackson, but I think it's getting worse. Twilight, Lady Gaga, Justin Bieber.

Big flash. And it all comes at lightning speed.

I anticipate one day that Justin Bieber will be in rehab for the fourth time or marrying his third wife, looking to find what's missing in his life. Oops. It's your childhood. Gone forever, but here's another Bentley. His head will look even more like Donald Trumps than it does now. The screaming girls will be gone, but the hangers on will still be there continuing to take just one more piece.

Flash in the Pan Corn

You can use any of your favorite spices or leave it out.

Heat a large skillet over medium high heat. Quickly add a bag of frozen corn (or fresh kernels cut off the cob), 2 TB real butter, a pinch of dried thyme, and stir until corn is crisp tender. It doesn't take very long. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

2010-07-31T09:17:00.000-05:00

At a restaurant, my mom will peruse the menu like it's her last meal. The wait staff will often appear three times before she's had enough time. My son is baffled by McDonald's drive through window. "Wait, WAIT, I'm not ready."

I'm not like that, although I do feel a bit pressured at drive through windows and often revert to whatever I normally order just because I didn't see that new salad that they've got displayed in a gorgeous picture by the window where you pay.

We're not frequent diners at places where you get your food through windows. McD's is a great, relatively low cal place to get an ice cream cone. It's cheaper than DQ and I think tastes better. But, I'm a little put off at the taped welcome voice that pushes the latest whatever burger or implores me to try an iced mocha today. I always say no thank you to the recording and then feel really stupid when the completely different voiced person then takes my order and seems to not understand why I'm no thanking them.

I think my mom reads from menus so deliberately and completely because she's from a generation that just moved slower. It's ok really, not a slam, I think it's a good thing. I love all things slow and really hate it when someone I'm with is compelled to look at their chirping electronic device rather than be with me. Really, what is it about those leashes that have made us all rude? What will 100 years bring? Absolutely no human contact of any kind?

So, anyway, back to slowing down. I can't eat grilled food all the time, so here's one of my go to recipes for summer. It simmers in your crock pot all day and is great for those days when standing over a 600 degree grill just seems wrong.

Pulled Pork with Beer and Garlic

Take a big old pork roast, loin is good, but way too expensive to cook until it falls apart. Put it in your crock pot. Dump in a good bottle of beer and more garlic than you think you can stand. Salt and pepper to taste and let it cook all day.

Shred, put on buns and top with bbq sauce and cole slaw. Freeze leftovers to do the same thing in the future when it's too hot or your too busy too cook.

Makes a great tortilla stuffer too.

Just One More Grill Marinade

2010-07-30T06:00:00.000-05:00

A Smidgen of This Marinade

I'm always surprised by how very little liquid you actually need to marinate with. This marinade goes together quickly and was a hit with my family and one of Sam's friends when used on chicken. We especially liked the leftovers the next day cut up and tossed with a big veggie salad. I think it would be great on steak and pork too.

1/4 cup soy sauce

3 TB honey

2 TB vinegar, white or cider

1 1/2 tsp minced garlic

1 1/2 tsp grated ginger

1/2 medium onion chopped (or equivalent dried or onion powder)

pepper to taste

Place all in a zip bag. Add desired meat and let marinate for at least 4 hours in the refrigerator. Longer is better. Remove from marinade and grill.

Suzie Homemaker Household Engineer and SuperWife

2010-07-29T06:00:00.000-05:00

I hate to tell people that I'm a housewife. You get that look of condescension and perhaps a little pity. Some, a very rare few, will say, "hardest job on Earth." And they're right and I want to kiss them which makes for a very awkward moment in Minnesota Land of Very Defined Personal Space.

I've developed many answers over the years. Queen of the Mean Vacuum gets the most puzzled looks. (Where have all the funny people gone?) SuperMom is the shortened version that most people seem to appreciate and understand.

There are some days that I really feel valued and like I'm making a contribution. Yes, I do this (insert mundane task here) and because I do this (insert mundane task here), D doesn't have to worry about it. He can make the bacon in peace. But, it's mostly when I'm baking that I feel like I'm making a warm and happy home. Not warm in the literal sense of what in the heck are you doing turning on the oven when the air conditioning is on, but you know what I mean.

Anyway, then comes out Suzie Homemaker Household Engineer and SuperWife. I brandish my spatula and whip up some kind of sweet hug for my boys.

This was one of those days. As you can see by the picture, it was well received. I've separated the recipe by crust and filling. This is my go to single crust recipe. It takes 5 minutes and is flaky and fantabulous. And if you serve it to me, I'll know you've visited my blog! I can't keep this one to myself, it's just too good and too easy to not share.

Betsi's Super Easy One Crust Pie Crust

I'm sure you could double it and then roll out or piece together a top crust.

1 1/2 cups flour

2 tsp sugar

1 tsp salt

1/2 cup vegetable oil

2 TB skim milk

Preheat oven to 400. Mix all with a fork, press in a pie pan, flute the edges, and poke the bottom with the same fork. Bake 12-15 minutes or until edges begin to brown. Then cool and fill to your heart's delight.

Sort of the Same Recipe for Blueberry Pie that one of Darren's Relatives Made, but Better Because I Lost the Recipe and Was Able to come up with a Delicious Version Myself Which May Even Be Exactly the Same as the Original

This is really easy, but don't tell them that!

2 pints of blueberries, place 1 in the pie shell, 1 in a sauce pan over medium heat

Add to the pan:

1 TB flour

1 TB butter

1 TB lemon juice

1/2 cup sugar

Bring to a boil, stirring constantly until berries just begin to pop. Pour filling over berries in the pie shell. Chill and serve. I love it just as is, but if you want to go completely over the top, serve with vanilla bean ice cream or real whipping cream.

Probably the Best Lowfat Blueberry Muffins I've Ever Baked*

2010-07-28T06:00:00.001-05:00

*Bragging as a general rule is not accepted in Minnesota culture, but I'm putting this one out there. We loved them. Enjoy at your own risk. They're so good that portion control is a challenge!

We went blueberry picking with friends last Friday morning, followed by a picnic at Big Marine Park Reserve. Fun day! The blueberries hung like grapes, so picking was very easy. The three boys were especially good at it. The shortest one could get up under the bushes like a champ!

We love blueberries at our house. So, finding ways to use them has not been hard. We ate them fresh all day Friday. We had blueberry muffins and blueberry pie (recipe tomorrow). The blueberry muffins were a hit. This batch was so big there were plenty to freeze to take along on our camping trip.

Amazing Low Fat Blueberry Muffins

Why blogger won't let me use HTML today, I don't know. But, here you go, no spaces no matter what I do. I'm sure you can deal with it.

Makes 24 muffins

Batter:

4 eggs

2 cups sugar

1 cup applesauce

1 1/2 tsp vanilla-- I think you could go up to almost a tablespoon

4 cups flour

1 tsp salt

1 tsp baking soda

2 cups light or fat free sour cream

2 to 4 cups of blueberries

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Mix dry ingredients in a bowl, stirring well with a whisk. Add wet ingredients (except blueberries) and stir until just well combined. Fold in blueberries.

Topping:

1/2 cup sugar

1/3 cup flour

1/4 cup real butter

1 1/2 tsp cinnamon

Mix topping ingredients until crumbly.

Line muffin cups with paper liners. Fill muffin cups with batter. I use an ice cream scoop disher to make it easy and to keep the muffins in a uniform size for baking. Sprinkle with topping. Bake for 20-25 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.

Mark Your Calendars

2010-07-19T18:00:00.004-05:00

August 8 is officially been named Sneak Some Zucchini on your Neighbor's Front Porch Night, but I'm getting a jump on things. Be forewarned. If you're within a bike ride of my home, you might want to leave your porch lights on and and a kid with KoolAid in his SuperSoaker hiding in the bushes. Cause once the sun sets, I'm on my way.

We've been dive bombed already this summer by a neighbor and my plants are loaded. So, I went to All Recipes to see just what to do with all this ~~shit~~ bounty.

This recipe uses 8 cups, can I hear a Hallelujah? You can even use the big ones that your kids like to throw against the fence repeatedly until they explode.

And dang, if it doesn't taste like apple cobbler. Seriously, it fooled even the pickiest of eaters and if I had been smarter and removed the seeds, it would have fooled everyone.

Head on over HERE for the recipe. I want to make sure that Don gets full credit. I followed the recipe exactly which is really hard for a non measuring cook like me to do. I wouldn't change a thing

Learning to Let Go

2010-07-15T06:00:00.001-05:00

I don't remember who it was, some actress, maybe Lindsay Lohan, and I'd hate to mention anything that I admire about her, but I really think it was her. And if it was her, then I've found a redeeming quality in her that I'll cling to as she bumpily navigates her way through life.

Anyway, in the background of a busy day, I was stopped smack dab in the middle of a dirty bathroom because I heard the words, "Just breathe." You see, it was one of those days where my thoughts were muddled and jumbled and my To Do Lists had developed their own To Do Lists. There were Post-it Notes in my brain and all over my counter tops and stuck to mirrors. I was frustrated and overwhelmed and I just knew, it wasn't all going to get done. No way, no how.

And those words, they came through loud and clear, despite the fact that I was quite far from the TV and I abhor daytime television...........

So, anyway, back to the actress. She had the word breathe tattooed in white so it really was only apparent to her on the underside of her wrist. And immediately, I wanted to find the nearest tattoo parlor, which in suburbia would be a very long drive. Long enough that I would totally reconsider because there's nothing permanent that I would ever want applied to my skin, aside from sunscreen because I just hate having to put that on again and again and again.

Breathe, remember?

And I realized, I need this reminder from time to time. Dinner can be hot dogs and all will be well. I don't need to work my way through one of Julia Child's cookbooks. That's been done and it doesn't need to be done again. Dust is a wonderful household accessory. He can wear the same socks two days in a row. It won't kill him. Even Martha Stewart has weeds in her garden. And the dude in the Home Depot ad probably has just as many unfinished house projects as we do. The universe will not come to a screeching halt if the items on my lists don't get crossed off. They're lists and by their very definition, they never end.

Breathe.

So, here's a recipe that doesn't require much thought, planning, or preparation. Just toss it together. Grill or bake. And then sit down and breathe.

Chili Maple Marinade
Good on chicken, pork chops, pork ribs, or pork tenderloin.

3 TB maple syrup
2 TB chili powder
a little water
salt to taste

Dump together. Marinate if you have time. Grill or bake until done.

Serve with a big salad, straight from the bag, and steamed veggies (straight from the bag!)

One More Honey at the Table

2010-07-14T12:57:00.005-05:00

Sam has been so busy this summer. There have only been a handful of days that he hasn't had a friend over or been invited to one of their houses. Mostly it's been our house. "You're so lucky not to have a brother," one kid yelled as they ran out to the pool.

Playdates have blurred edges at our house. If it's close to dinner time, there will just be an extra place at the table.

This recipe easily lends itself to adding one more chicken breast to the marinade and it's a definite kid pleaser.

Honey Mustard Grilled Chicken

1/3 cup mustard, Dijon is perfect, spicy brown would be nice, just don't use "that yellow stuff" as Sam says
1/4 cup honey
1 tsp minced garlic
2 TB light mayonnaise
2 tsp steak sauce
4-6 boneless skinless chicken breasts

Mix all, but the chicken breasts in a small mixing bowl. Place chicken breasts in a zip bag. Pour half of the marinade over the chicken. Seal bag and toss to coat. Refrigerate chicken and the reserved marinade for at least 2 hours. If you're using frozen chicken breasts, just let them defrost overnight in the marinade. Preheat your grill for medium high heat Remove chicken from bag. Discard marinade. Grill for 7 minutes per side, basting cooked side with reserved marinade. Be sure chicken is completely cooked through and has an internal temp of 165 degrees.

You Say Tomato...

2010-07-12T16:19:00.004-05:00

If you get a cool day this summer, you must use your garden bounty to make this treat. I try to roast tomatoes whenever I can. This is a slow roast recipe. You can also roast them on your grill if it's too hot. Biz over at Biggest Diabetic Loser has a great recipe for grilled tomato soup that's to die for. (Thanks Biz!) Instructions for grilling tomatoes can be found at her wonderful website. Be warned, you will find yourself lost in her fabulous pictures and recipes.

Roasted Tomatoes

Use in pasta or rice salads, to toss with basil and hot pasta, or eat directly from the fridge. Great on cooked chicken or fish. Mix with roasted peppers and put on a sandwich. Mix with white beans, fresh basil......If you can't figure out what to do with them, drop them off at my house! Yum.

Line a big pan with parchment paper. Wash and slice your cherry tomatoes in half or chop regular tomato into bite size pieces (I've never tried this, but I'm sure it will work). Slicing the tomatoes is a tedious job that you can pawn off on your kids. Add several cloves of garlic, unpeeled or peeled. I was lazy the day I made this, so I left them unpeeled. Drizzle with extra virgin olive oil and sprinkle with sea salt and freshly cracked black pepper.

Then roast in your preheated 225 degree oven for 3 hours. Your house will smell amazing. Cool and store in a covered container in your fridge.

K.o.S

2010-07-05T10:30:00.007-05:00

There are a few things that people do not tell you about motherhood. One of the biggest kept secrets is that your job title becomes the official K.o.S (Keeper of Shit). And it's not an honorable title.

Everyone will look to you when they can't find their own stuff.

And it's not just your kids.

I think a long time ago, when people had less shit, this was a much more desirable title. And then they built castles and it all went to hell.

I've been accused of stealing and secretively hiding away:

remote controls

fireworks

rocket engines

men's size small underwear

bike locks

keys to a car I rarely drive

the checkbook

the other checkbook

an iPhone

a game case for an Xbox game (even though my thumbs haven't evolved enough to use a controller like that)

a set of screwdrivers

a tape measure (that actually is MINE)

a boys size xl swimsuit

beach towels

the camera

the video camera

our passports

sunglasses

fishing gear

some sort of tool that I couldn't identify even if my life depended upon it

all for my own personal enjoyment and satisfaction.

The K.o.S title has even prompted me to only own purses that can hold just my shit.

We had my mom over for dinner and blowing up stuff for the Fourth. Panicked and stricken, Sam came bursting into the room with a dire emergency. He couldn't recharge his phone. "I've looked everywhere."* Darren and I were unfazed by the emergency phone cord loss. It happens almost every day. Mom wanted to call out the National Guard. But, I held strongly to the beliefs that

a. It's not my phone and if he wants the perk of having a phone he has to be responsible for said phone and all it's cords, attachments, do-dads and deelie-boppers (Those were all extra and were paid for out of said owner's allowance.)

b. Responsibility training is a difficult, but essential part of my job.

c. Never treat an only child as if they're the complete center of the universe if you don't have to.

I have to wonder if they ever ask themselves why I never ask them where my shit is.

*This phrase is a prerequisite when approaching the K.o.S. The speaker must convey the extreme peril of the situation and his already thorough searching.

2010-06-30T16:02:00.005-05:00

There's an incredible sense of helplessness when you, as a parent, have to watch from the sidelines when your child tackles an incredibly difficult problem. I'm not talking math, here. I'm talking the growing pains of being an almost teenager.

There is no specific problem facing Sam at this time, so no one need feel slighted, but after speaking with a friend about mean girl behavior already occurring with her young daughter, it just got me thinking. We moms have to frequently balance the mother lion in us with the teacher. And it's not easy. The mean girls don't go away as you grow older. And they're not just girls either. You'll have mean, bitchy, unfair coworkers, roommates, lab partners, and neighbors.

So, it's time to learn how to deal with it. And that's how my friend feels as well. So much easier to be friends with someone if their parenting style is similar.

I'm often frustrated with helicopter parents who hover above and rarely let their kid tackle things on their own. I'm more of a sideliner. I'm there when you need me, but I'm not going to do it for you (ie become Mother Lion) until you've given it your all.

Forgive me if this is your style, but maybe it's time for you to hear that you're hindering rather than helping your child. Type their report for them now and they won't be able to do it in high school or college. Make a laser for a science project in fourth grade and they'll want you to go one better in fifth grade. Fight their battle before they get a chance to and they'll always look to you first.

I don't care what baggage your kid carries or what abilities they have, our job has but one description: teach them to fly. And you can't do it for them.

I remember the mother of a handicapped child that told me the difference between parenting this daughter and her siblings. "Well," she said, "it's simple. You know how with your son when he's learning something, you kind of put it just out of his reach so that he has to struggle a bit to get it? Well, with her, I put it even further."

I thought that was amazing. Her point? She's always going to have to work harder to live independently, so she pushes her now to get her there so she's never robbed of a life of her own. Brava.

Another Dinner on the Run

2010-06-30T11:22:00.004-05:00

I'm sitting here watching a rainbow of birds fluttering around the feeders in my yard: red Cardinals, orange Orioles, yellow Goldfinches, green Ruby-throated Hummingbirds, blue Bluejays and Bluebirds, and purple Housefinches. I love my birds.

Sam is at golfing with a friend, so I decided to come home and race around for an hour to see what I could get done and then take the rest of the time just for me. I've had a serious deficit of recharge time this summer and so has Sam, so we're working on that, together.

Last night the young man was headed out with his heroes to launch some rockets. So, dinner had to be early and quick.

My go-to recipe if I have ground lamb available is Gyros. Ordinarily, I make my own pitas (they're so easy), and Tzatziki sauce, but I was super time crunched. So, I bought both. (I know, GASP)

Easy Gyros

1 lb lean ground lamb
a small chopped onion
1 TB garlic
Lots of fresh parsley, basil, thyme,rosemary---if you have to use dry, go for it anyway. Just measure about 1 tsp of each in your palm and toss in the bowl

Mix all of the above together early in the day or the night before if you can. Keep refrigerated until ready to use. Then brown in a skillet and drain off any excess grease. Serve on warmed pita bread with Tzatsiki sauce, sliced tomatoes, lettuce, cucumbers, thinly sliced red onion.

Be warned. These are so yummy, you may not speak for the entire meal.

My Tzatsiki Sauce
This is party size, scale down or enjoy as a veggie dip or burger topper (you're welcome), salad dressing, slaw dressing, etc. Does not freeze.

2 medium cucumbers
2 (16 ounce) containers sour cream
1 (16 ounce) container Greek yogurt (very important, but any plain yogurt will do)
2 tablespoons minced garlic
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil

Peel cucumbers and grate into a colander lined with paper towels. Squeeze out excess water.
Mix together sour cream, yogurt, garlic, and olive oil in a large bowl. Stir in cucumbers. Chill at least 30 minutes. Fresh dill is a nice addition.

Desperation Marination

2010-06-29T07:55:00.005-05:00

Usually at the beginning of the summer, right before school lets out, I make a ton of marinades and put them in the freezer or I organize a Marinade Exchange, like a Christmas cookie exchange. This year, I didn't get either done.

This summer has been nuts. We haven't had one full day at home yet. My house is a complete pit. My garden has weeds that could double as produce (that of course the rabbits and deer don't touch!) and I've been grabbing the odd hours I can here and there to try to squeeze things in. Last night I found myself laying in the back yard at 9 pm, exhausted, and unable to get up. The boys had run to the bike store and to get some sand and river rock for the pool and water garden and I decided to play dead when they came home so I wouldn't have to help haul it from the car.

I could hear the dryer buzzing through the open windows and I knew if I didn't get the clothes out, Sam would have no shorts to wear the next day. But, I was able to Mom Rationalize that he could just wear his swimsuit or I'd get to them in the morning.

I came to with Sam peering over me with a mostly eaten giant bag of Peanut M&Ms saying, "I know you're not dead. You moved." Great. "SHE'S NOT DEAD, DAD." Bet the neighbors loved that.

And then I finally came to understand why that woman on the commercials who all these years has mystified me with her, "I've fallen and I can't get up." Aside from not falling, I was just like her. I couldn't get up. Now, it wasn't just that I was in fear that while I was sound asleep in the yard one of the dogs had left something undesirable for me to roll onto as I got up. Nope, it was middle age. It hit me right there in the yard.

Forty minutes later, I staggered upstairs, attempted to read, attempted to watch a little BBC news, and then attempted to shut D's bedside lamp off with mental telepathy. Didn't work. That's the last thing I remember.

Dire days like this require crisis cooking. This is a little marinade that was a success after a short streak of abysmal experimental cooking. (Don't ask, that's what ketchup is for.)

Candied Pork Chops

Now, bear with me because this seems a little weird, but we loved it. I figured that root beer and colas are featured in lots of bbq, why not try it in a marinade. I wouldn't attempt this on any other meat, well, maybe chicken. My experiments haven't gone that far yet.

Lean, center-cut, bone in pork chops, or pork loin chops, not too thick!---Now I'm getting inspired to slow cook this on a pork butt or cushion meat

One can or bottle of root beer

a good glug of Worcestershire sauce

hot sauce to taste

salt and pepper to taste

Marinate as long as you can. Remove chops and grill 5-7 minutes on each side until done. You could dump all in a bag and freeze it, thaw in the refrigerator when you're ready to use.

Making Choices

2010-06-28T09:08:00.004-05:00

It hits me smack dab in the soul when I hear or receive the snide comment of one woman to another. Apparently, mean girls do grow up, and they don't change a bit. It's all about choices and if you're secure in yours than you really shouldn't have to cut down someone else to make you feel better.

I've been on both sides of the Mom Wars, working vs. stay at home, and they're both equally hard. Just in different ways. And it's all about choices.

When Sam was little and I was home full time, we definitely lived on less. I didn't want to miss a minute in exchange for a bigger house payment or more stuff. So, our living room was empty for a while (great for a toddler on the go!). He still remembers playing elephant cage behind the hand me down love seat that was the sole piece of furniture in the room.

When I worked 24/7 for my business, I didn't have weekends, but I had the fulfillment of something that was my very own and a lot of challenges to face head on and solve. Great for me, but not so great for my family. Sam got lost in the shuffle and it took a year or so after we sold it to get him back.

But, this is what works for me. If you're a full time, work outside the home mom, and you're ok with daycare and weekends filled with errands and laundry, then go. Do. Be. But, if you feel tremendously guilty about all this, sell your stuff, make the sacrifices, and stay with your kids. It's a pretty simple choice.

Wandering around Facebook, linking from one person that I know to one that I used to know to one that I barely knew, to someone that person knows... I came across a snarky comment that precipitated this rant.

It saddens me that we're still fighting over this dumb issue. What a waste of time when we could be ruling the world!

2010-06-07T19:30:00.003-05:00

I do know how to can things, but sometime I just don't have the time. I love freezer jam. It's easy and it tastes great, it's cheap if you already have the jars or containers, and it uses up fruit that you froze for the winter last year with good intentions of using it and then discover it right around the time that said fruit becomes ripe again one year later. (English teachers have fun with that sentence.)

I Don't Have Time to Make Jam, Raspberry Jam

3 cups prepared fruit (buy about 6 cups fully ripe red raspberries)
5-1/4 cups sugar, measured into separate bowl
3/4 cup water
1 box SURE.JELL Fruit Pectin Make It!

Run small canning jars or plastic containers through your dishwasher on a turbo heat, antibacterial cycle, be sure to use the dry cycle. Time it so jars are hot and dry when you're ready to fill them.

CRUSH raspberries thoroughly, one layer at a time. (Press half of pulp through a sieve to remove seeds, if desired. This is dumb, but it's in the original recipe, so if you really want to stain your hands your counter tops, and make a big mess, go ahead.) Measure exactly 3 cups crushed raspberries into large bowl. Stir in sugar. Let stand 10 min., stirring occasionally.

MIX water and pectin in small saucepan. Bring to boil on high heat, stirring constantly. Continue boiling and stirring 1 min. Add to fruit mixture; stir 3 min.or until sugar is almost dissolved and no longer grainy. (A few sugar crystals may remain.) Make some toast and taste it. This is required.

FILL containers immediately to within 1/2 inch of tops. Wipe off top edges of containers; immediately cover with lids. Let stand at room temperature 24 hours. Jam is now ready to use. Store in refrigerator up to 3 weeks or freeze extra containers up to 1 year. Thaw in refrigerator before using. Be sure to put one in your fridge and make some Cream Biscuits (recipe below) for supper. You can thank me later.

Cream Biscuits
The shortening is in the whipping cream, no need to cut it in. Makes biscuit making so easy. Great camping recipe, they bake up easily in your Dutch oven. You can cut or just make drop-style biscuits (drop from spoonfuls) if you could care less if Martha approves of your biscuits.

2 cups self-rising flour, plus more for dusting
1 tablespoon sugar
1 1/2 cups heavy whipping cream

Preheat oven to 500 degrees F.

In a medium bowl, stir together the flour, sugar, and cream until the dough forms a ball. Turn the dough out onto a surface dusted with additional flour. Fold the dough in 1/2 and knead 5 to 7 times, adding just enough flour to keep dough from sticking to your hands. Gently roll out dough to 1/2-inch thickness. Using a 3-inch biscuit cutter coated with flour, cut dough into biscuits. Place on baking sheet coated with cooking spray, leaving at least 1-inch between each biscuit. Bake for 10 minutes, or until golden brown.

What are We Doing to Our Kids?

2010-06-02T13:48:00.005-05:00

A second, let me repeat, SECOND ninth grader at my son's future high school committed suicide. The first, through the parent rumor mill (not a completely unreliably source, but yet still taken with much salt), did so due to sheer exhaustion. The second, well, as yet I know no details, but I would suspect that the same contributed.

We live in a frazzled world and the pressures on our kids are beyond belief. My son is clipping away towards the end of his sixth grade year just barely keeping his head above water. Twelve hour days would be easy at this point. Yesterday, it was a 15 hour day and that's just school and homework. We vetoed a golf lesson, which would have been a nice break, but there just wasn't enough time. Math homework. Social studies project. Instrument practice. Book reports. Reading. At one point I caught him sound asleep on top of his homework.

What ever happened to watching the clouds roll by? Whatever happened to play? Isn't it truly a sign of the times that organizations are now offering classes about how to play with your kids or how important it is to get your kids outside? This was unheard of not too long ago.

There's something that's happened to parenting that is breaking my heart. I call it Competitive Parenting and there are no winners, just kids that lose out on childhood. "Well, we're so busy," the conversation usually begins. And then it's flop back and forth trying to one up one another. "High performance math? My son bypassed that and is now at MIT finishing his doctorate." "We have hockey, cheer leading, and a class on identifying trees tonight. Tomorrow is the science fair. Ben made a laser and shot a hole in the moon. Don't worry, we got a permit from NASA."

But, then there are the real conversations with parents focused on the happiness and well being of their kids.

And we're worried.

It's too much on their shoulders. It's. Just. Too. Much.

We've seriously considered chucking it all and heading for the hills, but it's too late for that. Sam loves his friends and a move would destroy him.

Meanwhile, we sit and wait for the next one to fall.

When we carry our babies we hope for health and happiness. Where does this get lost in the shuffle?

The news of this latest suicide lies heavily on me. I feel as if I'm working through a fog today. I'm emotional and scared and ticking off the tasks that Sam has yet to complete just today and none of them are ever going to make a damn bit of difference in his life when it comes right down to it.

In one day this Spring I received nine catalogs touting enrichment courses for kids. Camp this and class that. I tossed them all and I encourage you to do the same. Shred em. Put them in the recycling, go immediately to your calendar and write play on every day. And then do it. All summer.

And when the school year comes around again, ask yourself how you can help your kids learn the real lessons of balance, relaxation, stress relief, happiness, and joy. Remind yourself of those moments not so long ago of their impending arrival into your life when you wished for health and happiness and then make it happen.

Those lessons are just as important as anything else. Nope, scratch that, they're more important. And until we start making sure that they are, our kids are at risk.

Peace to the family. Peace to her friends, teachers, and anyone else torn apart by grief. Peace to all those touched by her life and wounded by her passing. Peace.

Excuse Me While I Pull My Heart out of My Mouth

2010-05-27T08:24:00.003-05:00

The big adventures of childhood, independent journeys that help one grow and learn.

Hmmm.

It all sounds good in theory, but when you're out adventuring, I'm holding my heart in my mouth and doing Lamaze breathing. I knew that technique would come in handy some day. It certainly didn't do anything but give D something to do while I labored away!

Baby steps. They just keep getting bigger.

Make Ahead Black Beans

2010-05-25T08:59:00.001-05:00

I love to make things from scratch whenever possible. Reading a label and wondering just what the heck some of the ingredients are is one reason. Homemade food is healthier, cheaper, and doesn't take as much time as one might think.

I made these beans in the crockpot last week. We've had them as a side with fajitas, in burritos, and mixed with cooked Chorizo sausage and served over rice. I've got at least 2 more meals in the freezer.

Make Ahead Black Beans

Much better than canned! Season up or down according to your family's taste preferences. The beans require an overnight soak, so plan ahead.

1 bag dried black beans, soak in water overnight to soften Rinse in the morning.

Place in your crock pot:
1 large green pepper, seeded and chopped
1 onion, chopped
8 cups of water (at least, make sure there's plenty to cover the beans)
2 cloves of garlic, minced
2 tsp dried oregano
2 tsp cumin

Cook on low all day. One hour (if you've got it!) before serving, add:
salt to taste
1/4 cup white wine
1 TB red wine vinegar
1 TB sugar
a drizzle of olive oil

Taste and adjust seasonings. You may add green chiles, jalapenos, red pepper flakes, etc.

A Cold Salad on a Hot Day

2010-05-24T08:42:00.003-05:00

Honestly, I made this a week ago when it was cold and rainy. Try menu planning in Minnesota. I've been grilling in the rain and making soup when it's 75. Ugh.

I normally don't post recipes that still need a little work, but this one does. It's a great base recipe, but I need to work on it. Taste and season well, I've included my suggestions in italics.

Sweetpea Slaw

Place in a large bowl:
2 packages of stringless sugar snap peas
2 cups matchstick cut carrots (or thinly slice in your food processor)
1 1/2 cups shredded red cabbage
One bunch of green onions, cleaned and thinly sliced

Mix and toss with salad:
4 TB seasoned rice vinegar
1/2 tsp fresh grated ginger
Juice of 1/4 lemon
2 TB olive oil
1/2 tsp salt--taste and increase if you wish
1 tsp sesame oil
red pepper flakes to taste

I think you could add any crisp veggie. Radishes would be nice. I'm up for your suggestions. It's really pretty, perfect for the heat wave we're having here.

Have You Seen This Guy?

2010-05-13T08:23:00.001-05:00

Sam Tsui. His Glee cover of Don't Stop Believing is fantastic too.

Happy May Day!

2010-04-30T08:16:00.002-05:00

One of my favorite places to hang out in my house is my front porch. I dressed it up for Spring a few weeks ago.

20 Minutes Well Spent

2010-04-28T09:48:00.001-05:00

Random Thoughts While Working Out and a Recipe

2010-04-28T09:25:00.001-05:00

Lean Mean Meatloaf, Grilled Taters, and Green Beans with Mushrooms.

When I work out, my mind wanders. OK, well, that's not solely limited to when I work out, but I'm often finishing my water, cooling off, and checking out blogdom and finishing my mind wandering. So, here I am and here's what I thought about this morning.

I wonder how Norman is (Grandma's back in the hospital)

I wonder why some people ask you so many questions for so many years and then when someone asks you something about them that you should know because you've known them for so many years, you can't answer because you've only been asked questions and never allowed to ask them. (Run on sentence, I know, but I'm time crunched. Forgive me.)

I wonder why people who comment to me in person about my blog never comment here. Chickens.

I signed up for Facebook again. I was on for a limited time a long time ago and was contacted by a creepoid from my past and so I deleted the account. Now, with limited searches, I'm finding NO ONE I know there. I know, patience, Grasshopper.

But, I did have a great time last night chatting with the woman who made nursing school a BLAST for me. Love ya Ang. Glad to talk with ya.

I wonder if Jack LaLane is still alive and if juicing really is the secret to longevity.

I wonder if I'm going to have to mow the lawn and I wonder if there's something you have to do to the lawn mower after it's long winter nap. (D's in San Fran, the butt, probably skipping down Fisherman's Wharf at his "convention". I know, you're working, but still.... wouldn't Topeka be a more economical choice in these trying times... just sayin'.)

I wonder if I will ever finish any of my writing projects.

I wonder if I will ever have the vegetable garden that I dream and plan every Spring.

What's for supper?

Lean Mean Meatloaf

Sam will actually eat meatloaf. So, it makes a frequent appearance at our house. I love it. I grew up with boring meatloaf, sorry mom. Soda crackers, salt, pepper, and meat. Ketchup required. This has great flavor and the glaze is really delicious. I made it with venison, which I know grosses a lot of people out, but it really is healthier than ground beef. Use the leanest ground beef you can find if you don't have a mighty hunter in your home.

2 eggs

8 ounces tomato sauce

1 medium onion, finely chopped (or if you have an onion hater, like I do, use onion powder instead)

1 cup dry bread crumbs

1 1/2 tsp salt, to taste, I used much less

1/8 tsp pepper, to taste, I used much more

1/2 tsp fresh garlic

1 1/2 pounds ground venison or ground beef--I used 2 pounds because I didn't want to figure out something to do with the left over 1/2 pound

Preheat oven to 350. Mix all of the above together. Place in a loaf pan.

Mix together:

2 TB brown sugar

2 TB spicy brown mustar

2 TB cider vinegar

Pour over the top of the meatloaf and bake, uncovered for approximately 70 minutes or until at least 165 degrees in the center. Remove from pan and let stand for 5 minutes before slicing.

Sage might be a good addition.

But, Don't you Want to Hold Hands and Talk About Your Feelings?

2010-04-27T06:00:00.000-05:00

The title pretty much sums up my daily meet and greet of Sam as he gets off the bus. He's happy to see me, he usually has something to show me or say to me, he gives me the update of how much homework he has, and then it's off to XBox Live to be "with" his friends.

And then I jokingly say, sometimes to him and sometimes to the basement door, "But, don't you want to hold hands and talk about your feelings?"

I love this fierce independence and friendships that are true and tightly bound. I love watching him become the man he will be in baby steps and independent flights. I love knowing that, when tested, he sticks to what is right. I love that he's strong and tender and really funny. I love that he can make his own meals, operate the lawn mower, travel to the park with friends, and make good decisions. I love that he opens doors for me and still likes to hang with me at least for a short part of the day. I love that he's obsessed with the History Channel, but will still delve into SpongeBob Squarepants, "just for" me.

Almost 13, I can't believe it.

"Well, What Do Ya Know, Bud and Henry!"

2010-04-26T15:08:00.005-05:00

My Uncle Bud died. Well, Great-Uncle Bud, real name Eugene, but he was always Bud to me. He was my Grandpa Hank's brother. They looked kind of alike with their shiny bald heads and man, could they both rock the old man specs.

Uncle Bud was a complicated person, but who isn't? I wasn't old enough to perfectly understand the complexities of his early years. And I'm thankful for that. To me, Uncle Bud was the cool guy that was born on the Fourth of July. We saw him every year on his birthday, until he no longer could handle all the commotion that company brought. I've felt like something was missing every Fourth of July since then.

Uncle Bud lived on a river with a slow current and a pebbly bottom. Perfect. Kid. Paradise. He liked to invent thing. Although I don't know if it was original to him, he did have a potato cannon launching spuds for us kids one year. He made model replicas of a John Deer tractor with teeny tiny parts. My mom is a proud owner of one of the very few of these. He always had firecrackers and bottle rockets. He used to light the firecrackers in his hand and then toss them in the air. One finger was mysteriously shorter than the others. We kids never knew how he lost the tip, but we suspected it was fireworks related.

On one visit to our house, Uncle Bud and Grandpa Hank were sitting on lawn chairs in the yard. Grandpa's dog and our dog were playing. We'd never really thought much about the dog's names before. Buddy and Henry, were named just because the names fit and we like them. Grandpa tipped back in his chair and said, "Well, what do ya know, Bud and Henry!" And we laughed. Grandpa died when I was fourteen. I'm sure he welcomed Bud into Heaven and I hope they're laughing.

Bud introduced us to the hidden campground pictured above. I thank him every time I'm there and will continue to do so as I pass this treasure on to my son. (And, no, I won't tell you where it is without DNA testing to see if you're family)

The last time I saw Bud, he was in such pain he could hardly bear life. I'm so glad that's over.

Thank you Bud. For your love. You always made me feel like I was just the person you were waiting to see. I'll miss you.

A Couple of Cool Sickos--Thanks you guys!

2010-04-21T13:02:00.003-05:00

This group does great work for a cause close (too close!) to me. I think the hardest part about having this disease is being misunderstood. Watch it through the end, please.

2010-04-19T19:51:00.003-05:00

Always be yourself,

because the people
that matter don't mind,
and the ones that mind
don't matter.

~Anonymous

Just One More Page

2010-04-14T09:45:00.003-05:00

I've been telling myself that all morning. I have a lot to do today, but with just a few pages of The Book Thief left, I'm having trouble concentrating on the work at hand. This book has absolutely consumed me and, unfortunately, I've had little time lately for concentrated reading.

This morning, I rationalized that I could read until my coffee was gone. I stretched that out almost half an hour. "Yes, there was still some left," I kept telling myself. There's always some left, lining the cup, right?

Then, after working out, I fit in a few minutes while I uninstalled some software and tried not to curse at my laptop that has been limping along for several months now. Sick laptops should never be left without someone sitting at their side, right?

If I don't get dinner in the crock pot, then we won't have dinner tonight, so I must dash. And then, I suppose, I should, for quality assurance and appliance safety, make sure that the crock pot is heating. I could sit at the counter stools, with book in hand, and just wait a bit...

My book reviews are all over at Good Reads. So, if you miss them here, you will find them, and a great community of book addicts, there.

*If you haven't figured this out, The Book Thief is a must read. Love it.

Is the Easter Ham Gone Yet? No, Now Eat your Dinner

2010-04-10T10:18:00.005-05:00

If you're at the point where one more ham sandwich could literally make you go postal, then please disregard this post and have a nice day.

If you're still looking for creative uses of leftovers, then have I got a meal for you. Or if you're searching for something to make with all that ham you so thriftily placed in the freezer for future use...

This is not a picture worthy food. Unwritten law of food photography: comfort food is ugly.

Slap your Momma Beans and Taters

I really can't follow a recipe. D thinks this really funny, but honestly, I'm starting to think that this is some sort of learning disability or genetic problem. I can't follow a recipe. It's just not in me. This would be a great side dish for a summer BBQ. Named for a nurse I used to work with who couldn't believe Minnesotans thought black pepper was spicy. She used to say stuff was Slap your Momma good. And these are.

2 pounds FRESH green beans
one onion, chopped
2 cups (more or less) of leftover, chopped ham
fresh minced garlic--about a tablespoon
a good sprinkling (maybe 1 tsp?) of Tony Chachere's famous Creole Seasoning (thanks Heidi, this is now a staple in our house!) If you're Spice Phobic add a little and then season to taste at the table
1 TB of really good chicken stock base (in the bouillon section of the store--not Dayglo Yellow) If you can't find good chicken stock base, then use chicken broth and leave out the water. Repeat after me, bouillon cubes are evil spawn of the Devil and must be banned.
freshly ground black pepper, to taste
water, to cover
about 2 pounds (more or less) red skinned potatoes, fingerling potatoes, or Yukon Golds, Rose Reds, etc--anything with a thin skin, NO RUSSETS

Place all, except potatoes, in your crock pot. Place on high for an hour, then turn to low and simmer until beans are close to done. I'm not sure this is a recipe you can just leave all day. I started it about noon and put the potatoes in and turned it back to high about 2 hours before we were going to eat.

If you're brave and decide to dump it all in and simmer all day on low, let me know how it turned out. My fear is that the potatoes might melt to nothing. You could probably do on low all day and then turn it to high and add potatoes when you get home, but dinner might be late!

A Fundamental Moral Decision: How can we, in good conscience, deny health care to anyone who's sick? We can't.

2010-04-05T09:30:00.002-05:00

by E.J.Dionne Jr.

The term “pro-life” is used with great seriousness in politics, and also as a political cudgel. If ever there were an issue on which those words have clear relevance and resonance, it is health-care reform.

Pro-life activists are deeply engaged in controversies around what care should be given at the end of life, and I strongly share their opposition to physician-assisted suicide. But who pays for end-of-life care when someone lacks health insurance? What sort of care can that uninsured person expect at the end of life? What good does it do to raise a ruckus around a general principle and not ask how the basic requirements of the sick can be met?

If a young woman is making up her mind about whether or not to have an abortion, is she not far more likely to choose life if she knows that she will receive decent health care while she is pregnant? Will she not feel more confident if she knows that both she and her baby will be able to see a doctor regularly after the child is born?

If we believe that all life is sacred, does that not mean that everyone should receive medical help in the early stages of an illness, before the illness becomes life-threatening? If we believe that human lives should not be bought and sold, doesn’t that require us to limit the impact that wealth and income have on access to life-enhancing and life-saving health care?

There is a terrible gap between the rhetoric people use in the health-care debate and the reality of our health-care situation. In particular, there is an enormous disconnect between the anti-government pronouncements we hear from opponents of universal coverage and the fact that government is already deeply enmeshed in our health-care system.

According to 2006 figures from the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development, government expenditures on health care in the United States already amounted to 7 percent of our Gross Domestic Product. That was identical to the Canadian government’s share, and not far off from Sweden’s 7.8 percent, Germany’s 8.1 percent, or France’s 8.8 percent. In other words, our government already spends a great deal on health care, and yet 45 million to 50 million of us still lack regular insurance.

As a society, we agreed more than 40 years ago that it was unconscionable for the elderly to lack health coverage. With Medicare, we socialized—yes, I used that word—the provision of health care for all senior citizens.

Medicare is not perfect, but what a world of good it has done. But why offer that guarantee only to the elderly? Shouldn’t their children and grandchildren have the same right to regular medical care that they do? Isn’t that what the elderly themselves want? How can so many who say they oppose “government meddling” in health care at one moment go on to declare their firm support for Medicare at another? They cannot have it both ways, although they keep trying.

Medicaid has also brought needed care to many poor Americans. But isn’t there something terribly arbitrary about saying that one group of poor Americans can rely on government for help, while members of another group, nearly as needy, are left to fend for themselves? What principle is involved here?

One of the best pieces of legislation signed into law by President Obama this year was the substantial expansion of the Children’s Health Insurance Program. It was an excellent step in the right direction. But what do we say about the parents of those children? If a parent gets sick and has no health care, how does that affect a child—even if the child is insured?

There are many roads to universal coverage. There are many practical reasons—related to controlling costs to government, businesses, and individuals—for supporting reform. But the most compelling argument, finally, is moral: A country that values life should not be placing so many obstacles in the way of those seeking health care.

An essential book for this fall is T.R. Reid’s The Healing of America: A Global Quest for Better, Cheaper, and Fairer Health Care. Reid, a former Washington Post reporter, embarked on an international search for better approaches to health coverage. Here’s what he concluded:

Those Americans who die or go broke because they happened to get sick represent a fundamental moral decision our country has made. Despite all the rights and privileges and entitlements that Americans enjoy today, we have never decided to provide medical care for everybody who needs it. In the world’s richest nation, we tolerate a health-care system that leads to large numbers of avoidable deaths and bankruptcies among our fellow citizens ...

All the other developed countries on earth have made a different moral decision. All the other countries like us—that is, wealthy, technologically advanced, industrialized democracies—guarantee medical care to anyone who gets sick. Countries that are just as committed as we are to equal opportunity, individual liberty, and the free market have concluded that everybody has a right to health care—and they provide it.

And we should, too.

E.J. Dionne Jr. is a syndicated columnist and senior fellow at The Brookings Institution in Washington, D.C.

The Cost of Doing Nothing About Health Care

2010-04-05T09:00:00.003-05:00

by Jim Wallis 03-02-2010

After nearly a year of our work for health-care reform, the debate seems to be reaching the end. News reports indicate that the president will propose his plan for moving forward, and climactic votes could come soon.

So what are we to make of the current bill? While it is deeply flawed, it nevertheless does extend coverage to 30 million people currently without insurance and provides subsidies for them to purchase it. And despite many disappointments with what a real health-care reform bill could have been, covering 30 million more people is still a big deal. But the most telling argument for finally passing something is that the cost of doing nothing about health care is far greater.

A New York Times report summed up, very starkly, the likely consequences of doing nothing. With no action by Congress, “The unrelenting rise in medical costs is likely to wreak havoc within the system and beyond it, and pretty much everyone will be affected, directly or indirectly.”

Nearly every mainstream analysis calls for medical costs to continue to climb over the next decade, outpacing the growth in the overall economy and certainly increasing faster than the average paycheck. Those higher costs will translate into higher premiums, which will mean fewer individuals and businesses will be able to afford insurance coverage. More of everyone’s dollar will go to health care, and government programs like Medicare and Medicaid will struggle to find the money to operate … The higher premiums will also persuade more businesses, especially smaller ones, to decide not to offer insurance. More people who buy coverage on their own or are asked to pay a large share of premiums will find the price too high.

If this happens, estimates are that the number of people without health insurance would increase by more than one million per year (on top of the 49 million currently without coverage), and result in as many as 275,000 deaths over the next 10 years. Do we really want as many as 60 million Americans to be without health insurance in a decade? More families will go deeply into debt, and many will go bankrupt.

I am forced to conclude that while this very flawed legislation may be the lesser of evils, the consequences of inaction to America’s families would be far greater. So rather than issuing a moral clarion call to action, let’s just hope this finally passes, and then immediately get to work to make it better. If this effort fails, most observers think that Congress might not get back to health care for ten or fifteen years; and all the terrible costs and consequences the Times article analytically predicts are very likely to come true.

Jim Wallis is the author of Rediscovering Values: On Wall Street, Main Street, and Your Street — A Moral Compass for the New Economy, CEO of Sojourners and blogs at www.godspolitics.com

We Had 8 Years of Bush and Cheney and NOW You Get Mad???

2010-04-05T08:53:00.003-05:00

I did not write this, so I deserve no credit, but I am absolutely at a loss as to how people can be so upset about helping our fellow people. Please watch the video, through to the end, after reading. Thank you.

You didn't get mad when the Supreme Court stopped a legal recount and appointed a President.

You didn't get mad when Cheney allowed Energy company officials to dictate energy policy.

You didn't get mad when a covert CIA operative got outed.

You didn't get mad when the Patriot Act got passed.

You didn't get mad when we illegally invaded a country that posed no threat to us.

You didn't get mad when we spent over 714 billion(and counting) on said illegal war.

You didn't get mad when over 10 billion dollars just disappeared in Iraq.

You didn't get mad when you found out we were torturing people.

You didn't get mad when the government was illegally wiretapping Americans.

You didn't get mad when we didn't catch Bin Laden.

You didn't get mad when you saw the horrible conditions at Walter Reed.

You didn't get mad when we let a major US city, New Orleans, drown.

You didn't get mad when we gave a 900 billion tax break to the rich.

You finally got mad when the government decided that people in America deserved the right to see a doctor if they are sick. Yes, illegal wars, lies, corruption, torture, stealing your tax dollars to make the rich richer, are all okay with you, but helping other Americans...oh hell no.

So, Why do you Post Recipes Here Anyway?

2010-03-03T12:44:00.002-06:00

I was chatting with a friend on the phone the other day and she heard my keyboard clicking away. I told her, I promise, I'm paying attention, I'm just putting a recipe on my blog. She laughed and said, "You're crazy." She's right, but not because I put recipes on my blog.

I don't want to be a famous foodie blogger with three book deals and a Food Network show in the works. I don't want to be a food photographer.

It's a simply selfish reason. I have The Recipe Drawer aka The Abyss in my kitchen that sucks in recipes that I find on the Internet or magazines or wherever. I rip them out, print them, and they end up in The Abyss and sometimes they come out. And then I, really, I should put them in a binder or whatever, but I don't. I enter them in my blog, so I have them forever. Search, make, eat.

It works for me.

So, here's another one. I think this is going to be the only way that I make chicken stir fry from now on.

Simple Chicken Stir Fry

1 lb chicken breasts
A couple of TB of cornstarch, more than you think, less than 1/3 cup
A couple of glugs of soy sauce
A heaping teaspoon of garlic
" " fresh ginger
A glug of sesame oil

Toss to coat well, and set aside as you clean and chop vegetables.

Now, look in your veggie drawers in the fridge and scowl. Then take out all the vegetables in there that look forlorn and lonely. This time around, we used:

1/2 head of cabbage
2 broccoli crowns
A bunch of green onions
2 packages of mushrooms

You also need chicken stock.

Heat a nonstick pan or wok over medium heat. Add 2 tsp canola oil or spray with nonstick spray. Add chicken and stir fry until no longer pink in the center. Remove from pan and set aside, keep warm by tenting with foil or use the pan/wok cover to cover it. Add a little more oil (if needed) and saute vegetables until almost crisp tender, add in chicken and pour in about 1/2 cup of chicken stock (you can add more if you need it). Stir fry is done when the sauce is thickened and vegetables are crisp tender. Season with a little more soy sauce if desired.

A Little Update

2010-02-28T20:02:00.003-06:00

I haven't been feeling very well for the past couple of weeks. I usually "lose" about half of the month to terrible head pain, dizziness, and visual problems, but this last month has been really rough. I've still worked out every morning and we've been very busy so I've had to just suck it up, all the while feeling like I have an axe stuck in the top of my head. How sad is it that after 10 years of feeling like this, I still sometimes reach up searching for the offending implement?

I sat in church Wednesday evening, thankful that I didn't have to teach Confirmation during this head explosion, but feeling a little contrite. I looked around at all the people, seemingly pain free, some complaining about the length of the service and the songs that were sung and they just pissed me off. When I feel good, I want to work hard, help people, clean my house, hang with my kid, get out of the house (!!), and just be normal. And when I see someone complain about anything, well, it just makes me mad.

And then, I realized, I don't know what they carry as well. Appearances can be deceiving as I well know. How many people have exclaimed with shock when I finally reveal to them my health challenges? "But, you look so good!"* And, so I blew away the anger and got lost in the beautiful music of the evening. I settled in with my little family, during a time when we're normally not together in such a peaceful way.

My pain didn't go away. After ten years of this disease, I realize it may never go away. My doctor finally said to me last fall, this is probably going to be it for you. I've tried every solution, except for a shunt in my brain, which I don't fit the criteria for receiving. I weighed less than I was diagnosed, so, hearing from my doctor that my pursuit of healthier body is and only should be for my happiness has been kind of a zinger. So many old resources tout weight loss as the ultimate solution, but I have to rely on the expertise of my Mayo doc who informed me that recent studies are showing that it's actually the disease that causes the weight gain. So, maybe I can start feeling less guilty and upset with myself over that and just keep on plugging away. "Or," my fantastic GP said, "maybe you'd weigh like 400 pounds if you weren't doing what you're doing." "Um, thanks." And then I punched him in his stethoscope. I still adore him, mostly because he does say those sorts of things to me.

So, if you haven't heard from me or you're starting to wonder what's going on with my blog or our family one, I'm probably just avoiding the screen. My head can't take the glare. Positive thoughts and prayers are appreciated then! Thank you.

*"But, you look so good!" is a common thing, we sickos hear. Want to learn more about you can help people with Invisible Illnesses? Rest Ministries provides resources for caregiver, concerned friends/family, and support for the chronically ill. Their Invisible Illness Week in September has meant a lot to me. I don't go in for all the blind faith, but I'm not a blind faith kind of girl. But, their articles and devotionals have made me feel understood and comforted when I feel my worst.

Low Fat Banana Bread that Doesn't Taste Like Crap

2010-02-12T19:06:00.006-06:00

I know. I KNOW, the title is really not appetizing at all. But, I've been searching for a decent low fat banana bread recipe for ages and this title sums it up. Really, it shouldn't have been this hard. Let me tell you, we've tried some pretty ~~gross~~ experimental recipes. This recipe is somewhat original, but with a little tweaking it suits us just fine. If you're watching your fat and cholesterol like we are, don't be afraid of the butter in the recipe. It's a small amount and much needed for flavor.

*Please note that Sam is in the background working on a Dakota Indian diorama. He went above and beyond what was needed for this project. I was so proud! He's taken to checking his grades online (way more than I do--I think I last checked in before Christmas sometime). He's become so responsible and talks to his teachers if he disagrees with a grade or finds an assigment that appears missing on SchoolView despite the fact that he KNOWS he turned it in. I guess my "be your own advocate" speeches worked! Sometimes, especially during these years, you need a little parental validation that you've done something right!

LFBBtDTLC

4 bananas, peeled and mashed (I just throw them in the mixer and let em whirl)

1 1/2 cups flour

1 cup sugar

2 TB butter, no substitutes

1 1/2 tsp real vanilla, no substitutes

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp baking powder

1/4 cup egg substitute or 1 egg or 1/4 cup egg whites

2 TB applesauce (unsweetened is best, but use what you have)

Mix all until well blended. Place in a large loaf pan and bake at 350 for 50-60 minutes or until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean.

Variations:

add 1/2 cup chopped pecans or walnuts

dust top with cinnamon and sugar before baking or dust the pan after greasing with cinnamon and sugar

add raisins and/or chocolate chips and bake in a 9x13 inch pan as a snack cake (check after 20 minutes for doneness) Sam's friends love this.

make in muffin tins for better portion control, add streusal topping to wow and amaze your family

use leftover (if there is any) or double the batch and use one loaf for bread pudding

I LOVE toasted banana bread for breakfast. You need a toaster oven or use your regular oven, but it's yummy and delightfully different. The toasting caramelizes the bread. Top with orange marmalade... or not.

We always have unpeeled bananas hanging out in the freezer. We use them in smoothies, I bake with them (add to a cake mix, any flavor, with a little water and some egg whites and you've got a wonderful cake). They're a must have for us and a great way to use up the bananas that we don't eat before they start looking nasty. Freezing makes them look even nastier. No worries. The inside is just fine and the peel is the only packaging that they need to survive the freezer.

I Singlehandedly Solved the Health Care Crisis During the SuperBowl

2010-02-07T21:08:00.003-06:00

It's not a financial issue, it's a moral one, right? So, tax the Superbowl ads. You want a 30 second spot, well, you already pay a ton, so let's take a piece of each one.

Think about it:

2.5 mil per each 30 second spot times how many spots???? The ads will still cost you the same, they can't afford to try to charge you more, we just want a piece.

You could still have your little game. We really only watch the ads anyway. I mean come on, how can we sit and watch Bud Light spend that kind of money portraying hen picked men and not get a little pissed off and think of other ways such unbelievable amounts of money should be spent?

You can thank me when your MRI is free and you don't lose your house if you get leukemia. You can thank me when you don't have to have a spaghetti dinner to pay for your daughter's transplant.

This message brought to you by Olsons for You Deserve Healthcare Just as Much as I Do.

Honestly, I have to do something when the commercials aren't on.

What I've learned so far:

Go Daddy dot Com can run an ad, but an ad for a Gay man's dating service can't? Um, hello? I think Hooters has more class than this company.
Doritos are overpriced. They have to be, there's been an ad every commercial break.
There will be lots of kids in Haiti wearing t-shirts that say Colts SuperBowl Champs 2010
The Who still ROCKS

I'm very happy for the Saints, really I am. They deserve a little happiness there.

Bully!

2010-02-02T15:42:00.003-06:00

I cried my eyes out at church Sunday morning listening to the adult education speaker, Anne Gettis. Anne's son, tormented by bullies throughout his school years, killed himself at the age of 21. She barely made it through her talk for a number of reasons. Her grief was the first reason, but the parents in the audience wanting to chime in and share their experiences was another. Obviously this is a very relevant subject for many parents and we'd like to see Anne return.

It was amazing to listen to the stories from many of the parents in the audience.

One who's kids are now in their thirties, talked about how being bullied resulted in terrible depression in her kids.
One who is now homeschooling her 5th grader because her son's bully harassed him to the point that he would no longer attend school, nor did they want him to.
One who sided with the bullies stressing compassion and sympathy.

I've always said, the naughty kids have more rights than the good kids. Young One had been bullied by a kid several times. This kid choked him, scratched him, and punched him in the nose. The school's response? Sam had to go to the discipline office which made him feel like he was in trouble and at fault. I was told this was just so that Sam could tell his side of the story, but this experience was more traumatizing than the bullying itself. He thought he was in trouble and he was treated as such. All the other kids thought he was too. The "ooooohs" as he left the classroom were almost unbearable to him. When he cried when interviewed by the school discipline administrator, they suggested he see the school psychologist. He was scared and scarred and in second grade. I politely told everyone involved to go to hell (not quite, but I was a mad mother bear) and then said that they should never speak to Sam again without one or both of his parents present. We haven't had an issue since. Sam still remembers this as an extremely traumatic event in his life.

And the bully? Well, I caught him stealing lunch money from kids while on an orchestra field trip two years ago. He hasn't changed and obviously, nothing much is sinking in with this kid. I should have reported him to the police, but once again, when I brought this to the school's attention, it was swept under a rug. "Let's not make too big a deal of this" I was told

As a parent, with the very limited conversations I've had with school administration about their policies, I've been made to feel that they feel helpless too. Schools are so afraid of law suits that I think they're afraid to make a stand. So, they write policy after policy, establish discipline plans, create "friendship circles" and none of it works. Policies are rarely followed to completion because they rarely get parental involvement from the bully's side. Bullying rarely happens in front of teachers or administration and kids are afraid to tell because it often makes the abuse increase.

I mentioned to the class at church that all seven of my Confirmation kids had been bullied at one time by one individual at their school. I told them how I got to meet that particular child face to face. Sam needed to bring his bass in to school for one of his teachers to look at. While I was waiting, a young man repeatedly raced down the halls laughing, cursing, and shooting rubber bands at other kids. None of the teachers I spoke with paid any attention to him. Sam came out, bass fixed, and I asked him, "Who's that kid, " and he named him as the very kid that all of my Confirmands had complained about. One of the Deans was in the hall and I asked him why such behavior was tolerated. "Oh him, " he said, "We can't do anything with him." He shrugged his shoulders and then quipped, "He's supposed to be in detention."

I find myself starting sentences like this all the time and I hate myself for it, BUT....

When I was a kid, this behavior wouldn't have been tolerated. I'm not advocating the paddle that Mr. Emerson used on kids when they misbehaved. I'm asking for accountability, though. And I'm asking for the district to take a stand on behavior. Why should kids who behave well have less of a right to an education than those that don't?

We do a disservice to the bullies for allowing them to keep getting what they want through this behavior. Either they bully their way through life unsuccessfully or they hit huge brick walls when they find out this doesn't cut it in the real world. Imagine what would happen if the kid who choked Sam in second grade tried the same behavior in a business meeting? Imagine what would happen if parents of the victims called the police and reported assault rather than letting the schools continue with their politically correct policies.

It's a complicated issue. I was approached after I spoke at church about joining a task force to try to figure out if we can play a role in assisting our young members who are challenged with this issue. There has to be something we can do. Our kids face bullying on a completely different level than we did. Cyberbullying has become rampant and commonplace. And it's even worse than anything we can imagine.

I hope I can make a difference. I remember being bullied by the Mean Girls when I was a kid. The teasing, the exclusion, the downright cruelty, it was very difficult. If I could help just one kid it would be worth the extra time.

Heidi, This Heckle is for You

2010-01-24T18:24:00.001-06:00

Go Vikes.

Wanna bet a Turducken?

:)

In the End, You Need Nothing But Love

2010-01-23T06:00:00.000-06:00

I was able to spend several hours with my grandma while she made her journey out of this life. She was at times coherent and at others, she slept and was unresponsive. During those times, my mind wandered. I remember caring for my dad during the night before he died. I thought about the similarities of dad's and grandma's journeys.

Dad mentioned seeing his mother. Grandma mentioned seeing her first husband. Both did what I call air picking. Both possibly symptoms of the death of the brain, but, I'd rather think that they are working towards and meeting with those that have passed before them. I know, deep in my heart, that our souls are powerful and that they must continue on past the life our bodies can hold. This mysterious transition from life into what's next is fascinating and frightening at the same time.

As Grandma slept, I looked around her small room. In my lifetime, I'd seen Grandma move from a house, to a condo, to a small apartment, and finally to one small room barely big enough for a twin bed, chair, and television. Every move meant that she needed less stuff. Bit by bit it was sent away, given away, donated, sold, or tossed. Her life had become smaller and only the valuable parts remained. Family. Memories. Pictures.

It had come down to the end of her life and what mattered most was not what she owned, but who she knew and who she loved. The precious trappings of life that she had left were so dear. Pictures of her family, her boys, her grandchildren and great-grandchildren were the most prized. She commented to my mom at one point how her family was smiling down on her, surrounding her.

Every time I've been with someone who is dying, I am reminded of what we take with us and what we leave behind. I suppose it's easy to get caught up in the pursuit of stuff and more stuff and more stuff and greater and more expensive things. But, if you have a moment, think about what you'd like to be surrounded by when you die.

Love is really all there is. To cultivate that and the experiences of life, forming memories is really all we have.

Haiti, Not Hatey to Quote My Son

2010-01-14T08:39:00.004-06:00

Please help to combat this hatred, share your abundance and love. If this isn't evidence of that these men are truly evil, I don't know what is.

Slash and Trash

2010-01-14T08:32:00.002-06:00

Not news to me, but it may be news to you. Check out the Thrifty Chicks article about how retailers are trashing and destroying items that could be donated to charity.

Perhaps a solution would be to offer to pick up such items and transport to charitable organizations similar to the way that Second Harvest picks up perishable restaurant supplies. Something to think about.

You are Surrounded by Love

2010-01-09T17:38:00.002-06:00

My 98 year old Grandmother is dying. I spent yesterday afternoon into the early hours of the morning spending time with her and family. We laughed, we cried, we said some goodbyes.

One of the nurses was heard saying to Grandma, "You are surrounded by love. You are surrounded by your family and by love."

Such a beautiful thing to say while Grandma's on her journey. Hospice nurses are heaven sent, angels on earth.

Cold Fronts, Warm Reads

2010-01-06T16:36:00.002-06:00

One of my not so much a New Year's Resolution, but something I've been meaning to make more time for and not put the label resolution on, is reading. Not just my usual hour or more before bed (or the many nights when it's two sentences before I pass out!), but actually taking time to take a break wherever I am and read.

So, I've been carrying around my copy of My Life in France by Julia Child and every so often, I've made time to read. Ten minutes in the car waiting for the library to open. Ten minutes before Sam gets off the bus. Fifteen minutes with my morning coffee.

It's something that I've felt guilty about in the past. Reading, when I should be doing something productive, measurable. D's out working, I should be too. Always. Incessantly. Constantly.

And then I had a talk with my wise, mentor neighbor and she said, "Oh, if you think those guys work all day long then you're in for a big surprise. They chat and goof around. Why shouldn't you? Sometimes when N____ comes home I tell him I did a big fat NOTHING all day." Oh L, you inspire me so much! Thank God for friends at all places in their lives, older, younger, wiser, they're all so precious to me.

So, it got me thinking, when do I get my coffee break? Every once in a while with a friend isn't enough. What can I do to recharge? Because honestly, in a lot of ways, my job has longer (and sometimes shittier) hours. What do I do on the weekend that I don't do every day during the week? And when do I get to clock out? Can you say NEVER?

It was me late last night that was flipping the laundry from the washer to the dryer while simultaneously filling out a rebate form and having a conversation with Young One about the latest video games. It was me that worked the midnight and the daytime shifts for three nights while Young One was sick. It's me that sometimes does the same job over and over and over again until I want to smash something.

Stereotypically, stay at home moms are seen as sweat pants wearing, bon-bon eating, kept women. I used to think that, before I had kids. Then I got some pretty quick on the job ~~training~~ enlightenment. All that time that we used to fill with selfish pursuits suddenly is taken up by caring for another human. All that time that we used to have to focus on ME ME ME is gone. Even now, twelve years after becoming "Mom" I can't imagine what it would be like to just have to think about me and D. I suppose I would fill it with something.

D has NEVER made me feel like I've had to justify my time because he knows I'll either feed him Ex lax brownies (kidding) or stuff his pillow full of his dirty socks (long, but true story). Not really. He knows it would cost him a great deal of his salary to pay a cook, maid, laundress, nanny, accountant, errand runner, mess cleaner upper, yard worker, personal assistant, homework Nazi, pet groomer, insurance advocate, scheduler, seamstress.... you get the picture. One of the nicest thank yous I ever received was from him. "Thank you for working so hard so I can work so hard without worrying about what's going on at home."

That about sums it up, I guess.

All this about reading? I do go on, don't I? Very simply put, my point is that it's OK to recharge. And, sometimes it's an occupational hazard of stay at home moms not to. Nope, scratch that, I think it's a hazard that we ALL are prone to. We get so busy I think we sometimes forget to say yes to ourselves.

Reading more this year is simply saying yes to me.

I'm on Goodreads.com where I've found a community of other book lovers. Come find me. My reviews will all be there from now on. My latest reviews: Year of the Flood, World War Z, and The Hunger Games are all there.

Seventeen Minutes Well Spent

2010-01-06T08:38:00.001-06:00

My feelings exactly. Take the time to listen to the whole thing. War is not the answer.

Christmas Breakfast

2009-12-28T14:17:00.003-06:00

Pull Aparts

24 ounces frozen dinner roll dough
1 cup packed brown sugar
1 (3.4 ounce) package instant butterscotch pudding mix--I've used cook and serve too, either works
1/4 cup white sugar
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
1/2 cup melted butter

The night or several hours before, grease a 9 or 10 inch bundt pan (do NOT use an angel food tube pan, it will leak and burn). Mix brown sugar and pudding mix, white sugar and cinnamon together. Place frozen dinner rolls in pan a layer at a time. Sprinkle part of the sugar and pudding mix over a layer of rolls. Spread half the nuts and melted butter over that. Repeat until it's all layered in the pan.

Place on counter over night. Do not cover. Stare in awe at it's enormity the next morning. Bake in a preheated 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) oven for 30 minutes. Let stand a few minutes and turn pan over onto serving platter or onto wax paper on the counter.

Warning: Husbands with high cholesterol adore these. Serve with a side of fiber, a long walk, and Lipitor.

Our Daily Bread...Pudding

2009-12-06T18:22:00.003-06:00

You know what happens when you're expecting company and you light a fire in the fireplace without opening the chimney flue? You have to make bread pudding.

It makes perfect sense to me. Let me explain. Smoke doesn't smell good. Bread pudding does. By the time Young One's friend was here to finish working on their social studies project, our house only smelled like cinnamon and vanilla.

We needed a little comfort food this weekend. This is a super easy dessert. It's frugal because it uses up stale bread (or the ends of the loaves that no one seems to eat that find their way to a bag in my freezer to perish as breadcrumbs for breading or meatloaf). I lightened it up and I think it could use less sugar if you wanted to cut the calories even more.

Tastes best served nice and warm. I usually plan to take it out of the oven right before dinner is served. This recipe stands alone just fine or would be lovely with vanilla sauce, caramel, or sweet cream.

Super Sweet and Simple Bread Pudding

6 slices of bread
2 TB melted butter
4 eggs or egg substitute or equivalent egg whites
2 cups skim milk
3/4 cup sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp vanilla

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In an 8x8 inch pan that has been sprayed with nonstick cooking spray, tear up bread into bite size pieces. Drizzle with melted butter. Mix all remaining ingredients until well combined and pour over bread pieces. Bake for 45 minutes or until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean. Let rest at least 10 minutes before serving.

I Will Always and Forever Be...Your Duckman

2009-12-03T09:18:00.003-06:00

Young One's locker keeps jamming because the girl next to him doesn't clean hers out. The papers from her locker ooze out and cause her neighbor's lockers to jam. Annoying, yes, but not life ending. I told him to talk to her about it. He blushed a ferocious shade of red and said, "Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhm" and left the room. She's pretty cute, I've seen her. Maybe one day her messiness will be endearing.

I'm flashing forward to prom dates, corsages, first dates...

Now flashing back to my own school locker neighbors. I wonder what happened to the Duck Man that was next to me. He wore white shoes just like Ducky's. He drank vodka mixed with milk from an old Thermos. He told me it kept his ulcers at bay. And, apparently, fed his addiction. I wonder about him from time to time. I was always nice to him. Felt sorry for him. Worried about him.

In a school that held strong boundary lines between groups, I walked over the lines a lot. Our lockers were assigned by alphabetical order. I could have swapped with someone to be closer to my group of friends, but I never did. I preferred to have my own space.

My Ducky made me laugh between classes. We had our inside jokes. Sometimes, looking back on it, I wonder if I was the only person at school that was nice to him. He didn't have a lot of money. He dressed in his own creations of combination thrift store and hand me down. His white shoes were maybe meant to be fun, but my suspicions were that they were his one and only pair.

I wonder what's become of my Duck Man. I guess I need to do a little digging.

14 Phone Calls Later...

2009-12-02T12:04:00.005-06:00

I woke up this morning, not feeling quite right. Seems the urinary tract infection that I was in denial about yesterday was raging this morning. My back was killing me. I knew I had to get to the doctor.

One phone call later, the appointment was made.

Home again, antibiotics in hand, I settled in on the couch to prepare for Confirmation lessons tonight. I'd taken this antibiotic one other time before, so I knew what to expect. I'll feel better as the day goes on. I've had these infections before. They suck, but I caught this one very early.

And then, itchy throat, ears, eyes, skin, difficulty breathing, heavy chest--I was having an allergic reaction.

One phone call to the doctor.

One phone call to the hubby.

One phone call to Young One's friend's mom to let her know their study date was off this afternoon because I wouldn't be able to pick them up.

One phone call to school to leave a message for Young One that I won't be picking him and his friend up from school.

One phone call to church to call in the subs.

Three phone calls to a friend to see if she could sub for Confirmation.

One phone call from said friend to clarify sub details.

Two phone calls from the doctor's office.

One phone call to sit on hold returning the doctor's call.

One phone call back to church to let them know a sub was arranged.

Benadryl, Aveeno, rest, new antibiotic. Repeat all until well again.

Tangerine Dreams

2009-12-01T08:06:00.002-06:00

A busy day requires an easy dinner or one that is already done when you get home. I made this recipe up from ingredients that I had on hand. We loved it.

Sage might be a nice change, I'll probably try that next time.

Tangerine Pork Roast

1 tsp dry mustard
2 tsp dried marjoram
1/2 tsp salt
2 tsp tangerine peel, zested
1 TB brown sugar
2 tangerines, juiced
1 bone in or boneless pork loin roast

Place roast in crock pot that has been sprayed with nonstick cooking spray. Place first five ingredients in a bowl and mix well. Squeeze zested tangerines over the roast in the crock pot. Rub roast with spice rub. Cook on low 10-12 hours or high 6 hours. Roast will fall apart when it's done. Great served as a roast the first day and as shredded pork sandwiches the next. Leftovers freeze well.

Extra Extra! Read All About It! Just Not Here!

2009-11-25T09:50:00.003-06:00

Started a family blog for family news. I'm still going to maintain Take a Whisk as my foodie and personal blog, but expanding out to include more friends and family over at I Love You Same.

See ya there (and still here).

Welcome Home. "How was your day?"

2009-11-19T07:59:00.003-06:00

Even when I was working full time plus on my business, I was almost always able to pause in my day and meet Young One as he got off the bus after school. This flexibility was really the best part about being a business owner. I wish I would have taken more "because I'm the boss" benefits than I did, but, hindsight is 20/20.

My day is still bracketed by the departure and the arrival of the school bus. Every morning is a bittersweet goodbye, every afternoon a warm welcome home. I get a little apprehensive each afternoon, I have to admit. Could today be the day he comes home in tears, slighted by a friend, bullied by a peer? Is today a celebratory day or one in which he's hardly in the door before he blurts out after school plans with a friend? Is there a joke, fresh on his lips, ready to be delivered in a "wait, wait, I got it wrong, it goes like this" kind of way?

I am so blessed, feel so privileged to be the one that's there for him, no matter what. A constant presence. A ready ear and a welcome home. My job is to make sure he feels valued, important, supported. I do it gladly. I can't imagine giving that position to someone else. I can't imagine missing out on this.

A snack or a drink is usually the first order of business. It's not just a habit, it's a necessity. Lunch or brunch as we now call it takes place at 10:30 in the morning. By afternoon, there's at least one hollow leg to fill.

Today, however, it was a quick drink and a rush to the garage to hop on a scooter. Up and down the driveway and our block, he punctuated his laps with glimpses of his day. "I lost a tooth in Mr. Skinner's class. He asked if anything else was going to fall off?" "The girl in the locker next to me had so much garbage hanging out of her locker it jammed mine!" "Did you know that DJ Hero Renegade gets better reviews than the old regular kind." "Some kid's baby sister threw up on his SHOES. Isn't that gross?"

We talk. Occasionally he asks me about my day. Sometimes we just sit in companionable silence. It's not a huge part of our day, but it's a necessary one. The winding down, transitioning into home life again.

"You're my touch stone, Emma." A quote from Terms of Endearment.

I hope that I am Young One's touch stone. Someone to come to, listen to until he can speak no more, a place that gives him rest, a sounding board. I hope that I can always be that for him. I don't think there's any more important thing to be.

The house smells like baking apples! What a great way to make a house feel cozy and welcoming. Warm apple sauce that simmered all day makes a great after school snack. It's very easy to make and can lend that Martha Stewart/June Cleaver sort of sense of accomplishment without mental anguish, a starched apron, or Valium.

All Day Applesauce

Fill your crock pot with washed, peeled, cored, and slice apples. Overfill it if you can. Sprinkle with brown sugar and a liberal amount of cinnamon. Squeeze in half a lemon. Simmer on low until softened. Taste for sweetness and add a little more sugar if needed. It's best if left a little bit tart.

Boys to Men

2009-11-16T07:51:00.006-06:00

Had to do a little shopping for clothes over the weekend. Not fun with a kid who hates to shop for clothes, but what can you do? Capri pants on a preteen boy is not a good look.

We attempted to purchase a few things at Old Navy, but wound up leaving with one pair of pajamas and one shirt. "The colors are too weird here."

I knew it was best we found things that he would actually wear, but my patience was running thin. My, "You don't see anything here that you like," sounded strained even to my ears.

We're entering uncharted territory on this adventure called parenthood. Gone are the days when I could bring home a shirt with the latest superhero from a movie or video game. We went through a stage where nothing with stripes could cross our threshold. That ruled out almost 99.4% of all boys shirts made on this planet. Rules also dictated that while PJ's could be irreverent and funny, shirts worn to school could not. For this, I am thankful. The thought of backing up a kid who feels he being unfairly treated by a teacher when he's known to wear a shirt that says My Sister Barfed on My Homework still strikes fear in my heart.

He's not into skater boy style, thank God. I have an unspoken rule against skulls on clothing, but he seems to have picked up on that and agrees with me. He's somewhere between skater boy and Ralph Lauren. No skulls, no sagging pants, and definitely no sweater vests or plaid shirts. I think his style could be titled "Don't notice me, no scratchy bits, plain-but-the-color-has-to-be-right, and comfortable."

So, that's what we went looking for. Nothing that could possibly be "made fun of" was purchased. Think middle school camouflage. Nor did we bring home anything that was uncomfortable or itchy. One striped shirt made it home, so that phase must be over. D commented that my poker face reaction to this purchase was Oscar worthy.

But, all of this, relatively boring, right? I mean, what mom doesn't go out shopping with their kid? What mom doesn't go through the style dictations of their twelve year old? What mom doesn't make the transition from being able to purchase clothes FOR her child to purchasing WITH her child?

We all do, but that's not what stopped me in my tracks this weekend.

What could possibly make me hide behind a clearance rack for a little longer than a bargain shopper usually does? What could have me contemplating wiping my tears with a polo shirt the size of a five year old?

We're leaving boys department. He's too big! And the difference between a boy's XL and a men's S is not that great. Mostly men's size small came home with us and he doesn't need to grow into them.

I had to have a moment in the boy's department. We're not completely saying goodbye. He still has a few inches to grow before he can fit into man pants, but I doubt that will take long. He's tall and skinny. He's my eye to eye guy now and will soon pass me up. I think he may be taller than his dad's six feet someday.

I sent Young One and D off to peruse the few toys and video games that the store carries just for this purpose. I know somewhere in a security office hidden away in the dismal depths of the store a security guard was muttering, "We have another one." I took a walk down memory lane. I wandered through the little boy section that bordered the big boy clothes. I stroked a little suit complete with bow tie and held up a sweat suit the size of my mom purse. I crossed the border into Baby Land and got weak in my knees near the Onesies.

The time goes by so quickly and most of it is lost in diaper changes, sleepless nights, play dates, permission slips, and school supply lists. And these moments, those that slam into your chest and have you gasping, are few, but potent.

Growing up is inevitable, so is growing older. I weave my aging throughout his growing and together, we're creating this tight bonded fabric of love. Schmaltzy, I know, but it's where I am right now. I'm standing back and standing with him. He needs me less, and more.

Bittersweet is the only word I can think of to describe this time in our lives. I love it and hate it all at the same time.

I got to hold a baby the other day and I was more than happy to hand him back to his mother. I wouldn't want to go back in time for anything. We're where we've grown together to be. But, I have a feeling, there are going to be lots of Mommy tears in my future.

Next time, I'll have Kleenex.

Home is Where My Heart isBut, That Doesn't Mean Yours Should be Too

2009-11-12T06:00:00.004-06:00

Somewhere Over the Suburbs

In the last two weeks, two people have commented about how they would go "stark raving mad" if they had to stay home all day. Both used those exact same words. One time, yes, I did take notice, but twice? And in such a short time period?

It got me thinking.

Isn't it wonderful that we're all wired differently?

I could have gotten all defensive and tried to educate them on the beauty of staying at home and how I'd been where they are and done that and didn't like it so much. Honestly, though, I know they meant nothing bad towards me by saying it. What I decided to do, and what's working for me in many areas of my life, is to change the one thing that I can control.

My reaction.

I'm learning, through lots of grit and sheer willpower that I can only control me and that I really need to realize that most people mean well. And those that are trying to get a rise out of me by baiting me by tempting me with "this means war" words are more miffed by my nonreaction than if I would go all postal on them.

I'm in a really happy place in my life. I'm at peace with my choices. I honestly can putter around my house, content to take care of it and find little projects to occupy my time. When I worked outside the home, yes, I cleaned and cooked in the minimal minutes I had when I wasn't working, but it wasn't the same. I was unhappy and hardly had the time to even notice that I was.

Who am I to judge someone else, though, that's making their way in the world the way they want to?

You have to do what makes you happy. I can't walk in your business black pumps, nor can you fill my Keen walking shoes.

I make our house a home and I delight in it. What others see as a prison sentence soothes me. I look forward to those blank days on the calendar when I can just be at home. I might rearrange and redecorate. I might make meals for the freezer. I may sew or paint or clear out some clutter. I may have the washing machine, the dryer, and the dishwasher humming, my iPod buzzin' in my ears as I get out the Thankgiving decorations.

I write. I work on volunteer projects. I make plans. I balance the budget. I find the replacement part for the little dohickey that screws the attachements on my Kitchen Aid mixer. I match socks. I talk on the phone. I schedule appointments. I menu plan and figure out ways to save money. I figure out solutions to those things that could drive someone spread a little bit thinner insane.

I manage the house and in return, I get weekends again.

It feeds my soul.

I've been on the other side of the Mommy Wars. You know, the I work harder/faster/better/longer than you struggle that has plagued women since the burning of the bras. If we'd just let go of it and just say, "I'm happy with what I'm doing." And let that just stand alone.

Perhaps it's that we're not.

So, if you're not doing what makes you happiest? Why not? What would you want to do with your days if you could do anything? What would you have to do/sacrifice/change in your life that could get you to your happy place? I honestly think it's possible, but you've got to really change your mindset.

This isn't to say that I don't have days when I curse at the laundry and I shake my fist at the empty milk carton in the refrigerator. I have my moments when I would rather pull out my own fingernails than empty the dishwasher for the third time in a day, but, overall, I'm happy and content with my life at home. It took me a while to get here, but I'm happy that this has been my evolution as a mom, woman, and wife.

It works for me. It's brought my son back to what he was before owning a business put him second. It allows me, on the days when my disease doesn't let me function, to just focus on healing. It helps my husband pursue the career he loves without worrying about what's going on at home. Yes, we have traditional roles, but I'm anything but a traditional stay at home mother.

I challenge you to find that place that makes you happiest and if you're not there, figure out how to get there. It might not be as hard as you think it is.

Three Cups of Coffee Praise Jesus!

2009-11-11T07:54:00.008-06:00

My Favorite Church.

I'm not a demonstrative worshipper. I get a little freaked out every week at confirmation class worship time when the singing of the songs and the waving of the arms starts.

I'm not a song singing with the accompanying actions kind of girl. I'm not even a good, do the actions halfheartedly so to be a good example to my students, kind of girl. This Little Light of Mine strikes fear in my heart. My light is more like the one in your fridge. It turns on when you open me up a bit, but in a big crowd of people, I'm just not going to be waving it around. At least not in the traditional raise your hand and wave your pointer finger around like a light way.

My group of confirmation boys is wild and laughing and a big jumble of talking and sharing and NOISE in our small group class time. Get them in the worship part of the evening and they turn back into sullen, eye rolling, bored preteens. And I'm OK with that.

They're relatively focused and sort of paying attention. Last week, one of them clapped along with one line of one song. I did a victory dance (inside me, quietly, and my little light was turned on).

Now, could I be doing the actions, uncomfortably dancing my way through the worship service just to be a good example to the kids? Yes, I could, but that wouldn't be me. I'm a big believer in celebrating the unique gifts of each person. My boys just might not be gifted in the action area. More than likely, several of them are secretly doing the actions at home practicing for the moment when they're going to BREAK OUT and dare to be Action Man. But, odds are, at least half of them are just like me.

Our gifts lie in other areas.

Need someone to be the butt of a joke, wander across the stage as Moses, or talk about my Spiritual Journey? I'm your girl. Need someone to read a Bible verse, come up with a creative idea to get the kids excited and learning? I'm your girl.

My Little Light is shining, the flame is just a little different from yours. The boys are learning through my example that it's OK to be you, whoever you are, and to celebrate that. So, I won't force them to do anything that just doesn't fit with their personalities. Their gifts will be uncovered soon. My goal is to get them to start thinking about these gifts and perhaps one day, they'll share them.

Wednesday nights are busy for us and Confirmation hits smack dab around the dinner hour. The secret to navigating these busy nights is planning. So, it's either a crock pot meal or sandwiches. This is one of our favorites.

Lemon Pepper Pulled Pork

Makes a great meal and use the leftovers to make Cuban sandwiches the next day (or freeze to make Cubans the next time you have a busy day!)

One large bone in pork loin roast (or boneless, I'm not fussy)

2 1/2 tsp garlic pepper--garlic pepper IS a spice and is required for this recipe

2 1/2 tsp garlic powder

2 TB fresh lemon juice, bottled is fine, but fresh is best

2 1/2 tsp lemon pepper

1 1/2 tsp dried onion

1/2 tsp red pepper flakes

2 tsp salt (or to taste)

2 cups water

Spray crock pot with nonstick cooking spray. Pierce pork roast several times with a knife. Mix all remaining ingredients in a large bowl and pour over roast in crock pot. Turn roast several times to make sure marinade is covering it. Cook on low 10-12 hours or high 5-6 hours, basting with liquid in the bottom of the crock pot if you can. Remove roast from crock pot and shred with two forks, tossing all fat and bones. Return to crock pot to combine with juices. Serve on buns with cole slaw to top or as a main dish with rice and steamed veggies. Makes a great baked potato topper too.

And to Top it All Off, there's an Ed, Edd, and Eddy Marathon TiVoedI Demand Hazard Pay

2009-11-10T18:30:00.006-06:00

I've come to the realization that I would not be a good single mother. Not only are my math skills terrible (more later), but I couldn't open a bottle of maple syrup without becoming a complete ninny AND I burned the pancakes I muddled together for dinner.

I bow down to all you single moms who hit the ground running from the early am and are able to keep it up all day without kicking a puppy.

Normally, I revel in the travels of D, but he was gone all weekend and headed out Monday morning to San Fran and I'm lonely. To top it all off, Young One has large math assignment that involves fractions and I "do them wrong." Apparently, there is a method involving a grid, an automatic pencil, and an extra hamster to run in the wheel that powers my brain.

Deep breath.

And, on we go.

We're experiencing 60 degree temps here in Mighty Minnesota, weather we should have experienced last month, but it was snowing then. I noticed on the way home from picking up the latest release of blood and gore in video game form, that my festive fall arrangements on the porch are rotting. Lovely.

It appeared that someone kicked in one of the pumpkins I had jauntily arranged by the front porch. On closer inspection, it was revealed that it was, literally, crumbling in upon itself. Learn from my mistakes. Never pick up an old pumpkin. Use a shovel or backhoe or other farm equipment. Said pumpkin oozed through my hands. I swear I'll be off pumpkin pie for ages.

I'm a mess without you, babe. Come home soon. (And please, don't tell me all about Fisherman's Wharf or the sad state of your room service breakfast--you might find an oozing gourd stuffed in your pillow case).

Emergency chocolate is required. I may have already posted this recipe or a variation of it, but I'm too pissy and tired to look for myself. Deal with it. (Oh, and enjoy.)

Ten Second Emergency Chocolate Needed Brownies

A package of low to no fat brownie mix, No Pudge is good

Vanilla yogurt, fat free

Mix brownie mix with as much yogurt as it takes to make a thick batter. You know what brownie batter should look like. Google it if you don't, I have no patience right now. Bake at 350 until done (knife inserted comes out clean). These are relatively (cough cough) healthy and taste great. Lick the bowl while they're baking.

Happy Birthday Sesame Street

2009-11-10T06:00:00.001-06:00

Sesame Street turns 40 today. I turn 40 next March. We both grew up together.

My son gasped when I told him that Elmo didn't exist when I watched Sesame Street as a kid.

I remember the First Gordon. Well, it was in reruns because I think I was two when he left, but I still remember! I remember when the set was nothing but one little section of the Street. I remember the first versions of the Muppets. I remember when everyone thought that Big Bird's friend Snuffleupagus was his imaginary friend and how frustrated he'd get when they wouldn't believe him.

Anyone else remember Mr. Hooper?

So Happy Birthday Big Bird, Bert, Ernie, Bob, Grover, Oscar, Gordan, Susan, Count, Elmo, Prairie Dawn, Snuffie, and everyone else that I can't remember.

Our Sesame Street years went by so quickly here, but I still love it. If I had the time, I'd probably tune in daily. I once had a goal to work on Sesame Street. The peaceful, loving people that populated it's cast and crew still amaze me.

I'm so sorry for the video, but I heard it on the radio this am and had to share it. It got me giggling. There have been many parodies of Sesame Street. I remember when a group decided to boycott Sesame Street because of it's gay characters--Bert and Ernie. Um. OK. They're Muppets and roommates, not a groundbreaking TV story line. And even if they were, who cares...

Through it all, this show has introduced children to education, to peaceful living, and how to love and care for one another. It has carried on, it's timeless, and I hope it lives forever.

Happy Birthday.

My Other Mother

2009-11-09T19:09:00.002-06:00

You have to be at least 80 to rock a Christmas vest and turtle neck.

Norman is my Grandma. Her real name is Betty.

She's my favorite old lady.

I've called her Norman since I was a kid. Norman after Henry Fonda's character in On Golden Pond, one of my favorite movies.

She called me Ethel, after Kate Hepburn's character in the same movie. My nickname never stuck. I can't say I'm unhappy about that fact.

Norman is fun. We laugh until the tears roll. She shares her wisdom with me without me even knowing I'm learning. She tells me about the lean years, living in the Depression, and how she snagged such a cool cat like my Grandpa. She never has a cross word, goes easily along with everything anyone wants to do, and is happiest just being with her family.

I stayed at her house Saturday night. We had a bit of a slumber party, visited the guys out at the cabin, and then returned to her house. We looked at old pictures and as I cleaned her living and dining room, she told me about all her little figurines and doodads.

What a fun time. I have to do this more often. As I watched her struggle to walk from place to place and the vagueness that would come over her face from time to time, I realized, I won't have this person in my life forever. And I want to soak her in as much as I can.

Need vs. Want: A Lesson in Frugality

2009-11-08T06:00:00.000-06:00

I'm struggling with a want lately. A want for something that's really not necessary. It's not really critical to my physical or mental well-being. I suppose that I could rationalize that it is, but it's not. Truthfully. Really. Elizabeth. It's. Not. Necessary.

But, I want it. I want it so bad, I can reach out and almost touch it. I can taste it, visualize it, almost feel it in my hands.

It's a hard lesson learned, but sometimes the needs have to win out over the wants. I strive to teach this to my son on almost a daily basis. And he reacts to it as I'd like to. Sometimes with stony silence. Sometimes with tears. Eventually, though, there is acquiescence.

I'm waiting for that big word to dawn upon me. I want acceptance to draw over me like a warm blanket. You don't need it. You want it. You have other needs that must go before it. There are others without anything that you should help first. You. Have. So. Much.

When I get this way, wanting, wanting, wanting, something, anything that I just don't require, I try to remind myself of how much I really have. Of how lucky I truly am. I try to throw myself into volunteer work, charity. I read about injustices and the lack of very basic things in other countries or right in my own backyard.

I remind myself and try to quiet my desperation with reflection on what is really important.

It's not easy. We're blasted with consumerism everywhere we turn. I think that's why I've unplugged so much. I don't watch much TV anymore. I'm not really interested. And if I do, I TiVo it so I can zoom through the commercials. Recently, I was instructed on the presence of the Snuggie in our world by my son. Who knew one needed a blanket with sleeves and yet there it is. A completely unnecessary item that will soon clutter the shelves of thrift stores every where. Look for them near the S'more Makers and the Billy Bass Singing Fish.

The Internet is a great thing, but shopping on it is like having a Mall in your home 24/7. I've watched people I know consumed by this Mall's proximity. The cardboard boxes piled up like dirty little secrets are a sure giveaway.

I have taken a thankful approach to our struggling economy. I'm seeing more families make wiser decisions with their money and how much they consume. I've watched our neighborhood library and park usage soar. I've taken great pleasure in listening to others talking about breaking out the board games instead of heading to the movies. Connecting instead of passively consuming.

In these "struggling economic times" I still have so much. I still want, but the reminders that need vs want are very different things are all around me. I just have to look for them and keep looking. And when the feeling still doesn't go away, I look again, closer, until it all becomes crystal clear.

A Hunting We Will Go, Well, Not Me

2009-11-07T07:15:00.000-06:00

This is the house that Bob built.

Tis the season in Minnesota to see people dressed in bright orange and heading into the woods.

It's the deer hunting opening weekend here in my great state. Young One and D are heading up North to the family log cabin that my dad built. They'll bond, scratch, shoot stuff, and generally have a good time. It's their thing.

If my cold gets better, I'll visit my grandma and we'll have dinner with the hunters on Saturday night. Can't go exposing her to the germs, so I'm hoping this is short lived. If I'm still sniffling, I'll stay home and have some alone time.

On the Porch

2009-11-06T07:04:00.000-06:00

Happy Harvest! I took it upon myself to go totally Martha on a bunch of squash.

2009-11-05T06:49:00.005-06:00

Before

During

After

Take a phantom, Snake (an army dude from a video game), a monster, and Harry Potter. Mix with fresh, chilly Fall air. Sprinkle throughout a neighborhood, add candy liberally. Garnish with pumpkins and finish with a nap on the couch.

That's one great recipe for a Happy Halloween.

7 pounds of candy, most of it forgotten by now. We'll donate to a worthy cause. The smiles and the memories, now that's what was really collected.

Connecting Over a Cup

2009-11-03T19:40:00.005-06:00

A long time ago, I had a conversation with a dear one about coffee. I have a deep love affair with my morning Joe. I cheat on my husband with him daily. I sometimes think about him as I fall asleep. Freshly ground, deep, dark, rich coffee. It's my morning ritual and my day is not complete without several cups.

Hot in the morning, iced in the afternoon. Or a hot mug, always present, Joe never lets me down.

My dear one, whom I mentioned earlier, couldn't imagine paying close to $5 for a cup of coffee. "Heck," he said, "I don't even pay that for a pot of coffee." "I hardly pay that for a pound," he went on.

Now, as I've also mentioned, I'm a coffee lover. I made a pilgrimage to Kona just to see the beans on their native hillside. I almost didn't leave the island because of it.

"You're not paying for the coffee," I said in an instant of inspiration. "You're paying for a meeting place, the ability to park at a table and read, write, work, or connect."

And, you know what? I was right.

I spent four hours recently connecting with two other moms across the table, while holding steaming cups of almost $5 coffee. We more than profited from the investment. We bought time. Time away from our daily grind, time to share joys and challenges. Time to laugh and support, commiserate and bond.

Worth every penny.

I'm a bit of a cheapskate. I invest only in things that really mean something to me. I don't cruise the mall, I frequent thrift stores, I cut coupons, and I pinch pennies until they scream. Pay $5 for a cup of coffee? No way. Pay $5 to park at a table and connect with other moms?

You bet your bottom dollar.

Happy Halloween!

2009-10-31T11:48:00.000-05:00

Today is all about pure, guilt-free joy. Eat lots of candy, smile and laugh a lot, talk to lots of neighbors, kick a pile of leaves, wonder at a pumpkin carving worth of a museum, get a belly ache from too much candy corn, sip hot cider, marvel at how some of the kids can walk in their costumes, count the vampires and the Britneys, make a kid's night by emptying your candy bowl into his bag, savor the smiles.

My dad died five years ago today. The anniversary of his death reminds me that life is short, eat the candy, celebrate the happiness without any guilt. Set aside your worries and enjoy the joy. My dad always wished that he had done more of that. His greatest regret, shared with me on his last lucid day stays with me.

I'm not down today. I'm happy that this day is pure kid enjoyment from top to bottom. Dad would like it that way.

Evolving and Revolving

2009-10-30T06:00:00.002-05:00

.Scootin' away to a friend's house and then coming back home again. Those out of my sight trips teach us both so much.

I remember when I was a new mother. I was all about breastfeeding, attachment parenting, and completely immersed in mommydom. Our little world was small, population 2, with a third that came and went as his career allowed.

Bit by bit, we left that town, and joined the masses. It didn't happen in leaps and bounds, and I wasn't dragged kicking and screaming, hoping to remain.

Growing up and becoming independent is an unstoppable evolution. Sometimes, when I speak with mothers who fight it, I wonder why, but more importantly, how do they do it?

Since birth, Young One has made the unstoppable journey to independence and I've reveled in it. That's not to say I don't get a little teary and long for the days that his little hand sought out mine! Those days are over and with their passing comes new tender moments. He needs me differently, and sometimes in better ways. Less physical, more spiritual.

Attachment parenting became a trendy term a long time ago. Honestly, those that subscribe to it really don't need to name it. Attachment parenting simply means to be in tune and connected with your kid. I don't know many moms who aren't, so to attach (pun intended) the term really seems silly to me.

Call it my own Mommy evolution. I needed those terms when Young One was younger to feel validated. I needed to name my parenting style. It didn't last long for me. I wasn't a vigilante breastfeeder. Young One weaned himself. I didn't get caught up in the mommy wars of I'm better than you are because I _____________. (Fill in the blank with: feed all organic food, weave my own diapers from hemp and recycled newspapers or what have you.) But, I had the need back then to focus completely in. At the time, I couldn't see out of the box I had put myself in.

Now, looking back, I find a lot of it funny. I'm seeing that part of me again in younger mothers. It must be a necessary part of the journey. What I've gained from it is to look to more experienced mothers when I'm struggling with whatever phase we're in. I wish I would have done more of that when I was a younger mom.

Like I said, I couldn't see outside my little world and now, when I see that in others, it gets to me. I want to shake them and say, this time in their lives is so fleeting. Look outside your world and look to the future. Your birth experience, your breastfeeding, they're just blips on the radar of motherhood. They don't define you as much as you think they do and they certainly don't define you for as long as you think they will.

When your children reach out for independence, as they are genetically driven to do, you've got to step back from your own agendas and let them fly. Your attachment in the early years will serve them well if you did your job right. They'll return again and again, just in a very different way.

We humans seem to have the need to label things. Wrap them up in tight little boxes tagged with a judgment. We do it to ourselves, we do it to each other. I can't solve it, I know, but I can cut the string those neat little boxes are wrapped up with. I can look closer at my own label, the one I put on myself and the ones others put on me. And I can create a new one.

This self reflection is getting a little too deep and it's taken up the time I should have could have would have made dinner. Thank God for the forethought to stick something in the crock pot. Tonight's it's pork roast, with crumbled freshly dried herbs and lemon peel. Yum.

Lemon Peel Pork Roast

3-5 lb pork loin roast, boneless or bone-in

1 head of garlic

1 whole lemon

your favorite herbs: I used freshly dried herbs from my CSA, rosemary and thyme, about 1 tsp each

1 tsp salt

freshly ground black pepper to taste

Cut slits into pork roast and insert peeled garlic cloves, as many as you like or your family can stand! Zest your lemon into a small bowl. Crumble dried herbs into the bowl and mix all with salt and pepper. Rub or sprinkle onto pork roast. Cook on low 8-10 hours or until someone in your family says, "I'm starving, when do we eat?" Roast is done when it's internal temp is 165 degrees. If it's cooked all day, it will fall apart, so don't serve this if you want an impressive roast to carve at the table.

It's All in the Attitude

2009-10-29T06:01:00.000-05:00

Bad pictures, but you get the gist. Big instrument. Much pride.

Grab and Go

2009-10-28T07:51:00.008-05:00

Notice how I demonstrated the proper technique of not overmixing the muffins. It is not a unmixed bit of flour you see, but superior muffin technology.

It's been a busy week. Lots of meetings and activities and play dates. It's end of the quarter for school, so there are last minute projects, assignments, and tests to study for. I said yes way too many times and now I'm paying the price.

Turns out I wasn't the only mom last night that was spread thin. Most of the friends and acquaintances I saw last night, all arrived the same way I did. Out of breath, sweating, scattered, and cursing the fact that all activities like this seem to be planned for right around dinner time.

Last night was Young One's first middle school orchestra concert. He's been so excited to start playing the upright bass after two years of playing the cello. This big, bad instrument has been his goal since starting orchestra.

I know that part of it has to do with the fact that it's the biggest instrument in the orchestra. You know, a kind of, "mine is bigger than yours" mentality. He walked around in his almost a tux uniform, parading the big bad thing in front of as many of his classmates as he could. I overheard him telling a bunch of kids that it weighs, "more than I do."

I was lucky enough to chat with a more experienced parent of a bass player. She gave me some helpful hints on how to navigate life with an instrument that has it's own zip code. I had volunteered to rally some sixth grade Mom Troops to chaperon the kids before the concert. Orchestra kids are really great kids, so really, there wasn't much to do. Of course, I found someone to chat with!

One of the things I learned when I was working full time plus on our business was to have a lot of grab and go things in the freezer. Muffins or banana bread can round out a cheese stick and a glass of milk to make a quick meal. It's also portable, as in, "GrabamuffinIfilledyourwaterbottlealreadyIknowyou'resickofstringcheesegetsomeanywayandgetinthecar."

Last night was the concert, today is the Pumpkin Run at school, tonight is a meeting for Confirmation guides, and tomorrow I'm participating in a math placement focus group for school. Friday is a dance at school and Young One is going to a friend's house. Saturday is Halloween and Sunday church and then I'm going to fall on the floor. Monday morning it starts again.

Apple "Clean out the Cereal Cupboard" Muffins

1 cup flour

1/3 cup brown sugar

2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp nutmeg--freshly grated is best

1 large apple, peeled, cored and chopped fine

1 cup skim milk

1/4 cup vegetable oil--you could sub applesauce, I did and they turned out great

1 egg or the equivalent of egg substitute

2 cups Raisin Bran or high fiber cereal with fruit--I used Kashi something or other with cranberries-- you could use all the leftover cereal you have, you know those bottom of the bag amounts that aren't enough to fill up a husband or kid with, but end up in your cupboard languishing until you either throw them out or feed them to the birds. I wouldn't recommend the cereals that are really just big bags of sugar because not only do they look frightening in muffins (trust me), but they don't taste very good either.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line muffin tins with paper liners or spray with nonstick cooking spray. Set aside. Mix flour, brown sugar, baking powder, cinnamon and nutmeg in a large bowl. Set aside. Peel, core, and chop apple. Mix milk, vegetable oil OR apple sauce, and egg, whisking well. Add wet ingredients, apple, and cereal to dry ingredients and stir just until combined. Do not over mix. Place in equal amounts in muffin tins and bake for about 15 minutes. Muffins are done when a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.

If you want to freeze and bake later, freeze in paper liners in the muffin tins overnight and pop out into freezer zip bags. You can pull them out and bake from frozen (increase baking time). Or bake and freeze, defrost in the microwave for quick grab and go breakfast, in the car "meals, or snacks.

Apples and Pumpkins

2009-10-22T06:00:00.001-05:00

A trip to an orchard and a pumpkin patch is a must in the Fall.

The next day, I made All Day Apple Butter with part of the bushel of apples we bought. This recipe is VERY sweet, cut the sugar at least to half and taste and adjust to your preferences once the cooking process is well underway.

Since my dad had a 350 tree orchard, I know not to buy the first quality apples. I always get the ones that are a little battered. Still delicious, they're a little ugly, with leaf spots and maybe a bird peck or two. They taste the same and cost half the price!

I was able to score a bushel of Cortlands for next to nothing. They're a delicious eating apple with bright white flesh. The secret to really awesome apple recipes is to use a mix of many different types of apples, but since I got such a great deal on these, I couldn't pass them up.

Go Tom

2009-10-21T20:05:00.001-05:00

A Walk in the Park

2009-10-21T06:00:00.004-05:00

We love Minnehaha Park. Sea Salt closes on October 25. We had to get in one more trip there for Po'Boys and a wander along the Mississippi.

It was cold, Young One wanted ice cream anyway.

The leaves were beautiful, the fresh air delightful, and the time away from responsibilities was very much needed.

We'll return again in the Spring when Sea Salt opens again.

Experimental Kitchen Adventures or Cooking without a Net

2009-10-20T06:00:00.001-05:00

Every once in a while you've got to just turn your kids loose in the kitchen. My recipe for Graham Cracker pie will go down in history as the single best recipe developed and conceived by a four year old. I kid you not. Mom was busy, I managed to get the oven on thanks to the creative use of a couple of phone books and a step stool, and I was just getting ready to place said pie in the oven when mom realized I had been quiet long enough to be dangerous.

Oh, I'll share the recipe with you if you insist. I believe it was smashed graham crackers, water, and a couple of shakes of cinnamon sugar. I couldn't reach the chocolate chips that mom had stashed away for emergencies like PMS and kids baking.

Our 1970s oven was chocolate brown. I can still see it as my little hands reached for the dial. I wonder what setting I was planning to bake it on? Perhaps nuclear broil and that's actually what alerted mom to my presence in the kitchen.

Oh, but I'm wandering.

I'm a strong believer in learning to cook by feel. I once cooked with someone who followed a recipe for garlic mashed potatoes. She actually measured the five pound bag of potatoes she had purchased to see if they were really five pounds as the recipe dictated. I know that my cooking style would have made better potatoes in less time and with less kitchen utensil use. (Boil them, mash them, throw in some cream cheese if you've got it, sour cream if you don't, a little milk, and roasted garlic or fresh minced, or whatever, sprinkle with fresh chives, or not...Garlic Mashers for Six with Leftovers and no Kitchen Scale Use)

Mom taught me how to cook without recipes. Unless you're baking, it's not that hard. Baking requires a certain amount of measuring, but I still get experimental.

Young One loves to peel apples with our handy dandy apple peeler corer slicer (HDAPCS for short). He was bored. He needed something to do. I challenged him to make apple crisp, but do so without a recipe. "Impossible," my follow the rules, color inside the lines, guy says.

I was up for the challenge and feeling particularly patient, two things required of one if you wish to be in the kitchen with kids. I also was willing to put up with a moderate amount of mess.

So, I walked him through making crisp.

Apples-peeled, cored, and sliced-- he was all over this one.

"Now, they need to be sweet and a little flavored, what are you going to do?"

"Cinnamon and sugar?"

"We have a BINGO."

"How are you going to keep them from sticking in the pan?"

"Nonstick spray." Another task he loves, although I'm still wiping it off the back splash, thank you very much.

On to the topping. And we went back and forth on how to make it, what to put in it, how to mix it, etc. It was a fun time. And the result was pretty darn good. I encouraged him to put in some pears that were making the still life of our fruit bowl a little less attractive. He doubted this would work, but went along with my spirit of creativity. He added a dash of vanilla to the filling just because, and it was a delightful addition.

Basically, I told him that if you have courage and smarts, you can cook. And since he has both, he was downright successful.

The crisp was good. He now can impress his future bride with his talents someday and we'll move on to learning other recipes.

When we were done, he said, "Hey mom, this is like cooking without a net."

Why yes, it is.

2009-10-19T07:00:00.003-05:00

I'm sitting here watching Castaway. I'm not feeling well, still in the denial stages of having the flu. Lounging on the couch between flipping the laundry from the washer to the dryer is pretty much all I can muster. I suppose I should soon move on to the acceptance stage, but I'm fighting it!

(Update, I never did develop full blow flu, I guess instead of Swine, I just had a slight case of Piglet.)

Castaway. Remember that movie? Tom Hanks, plane crash, stranded on a deserted island for years. Well, all I can think of is not what would I eat or drink, but how much I would miss books.

Now, I suppose that if one was stranded on a deserted island, your time would mostly be consumed with survival. Gathering food and water, tending your fire, trying to make clothing from palm trees,fish hides, and coconut shells (now I know you know where those would go). Remodeling your shelter and muttering to oneself would probably occupy the rest of your time.

I think after I got over the fact that I would be denied Buffalo chicken wings and cold drinks with lots of ice for a while, I'd probably start dreaming of books. I'm a reader. As a kid I would get up in the wee hours of the morning, several hours before school started, just so I could settle in with my feet on a heat duct, all wrapped up in my Holly Hobby bathrobe and read. I read The Hobbit, and the Sweet Valley High series. I read romances, Jane Austin, and James Herriot. I read mysteries, bodice rippers, and just about anything I could get my hands on.

Reading saved me. I got lost in the words and escaped a stressful childhood and school experiences that were less than joyful. The words helped heal my first broken heart and they helped me to see that the world was a much bigger place than I could possibly imagine.

I had to get special permission from my parents in order to read beyond the youth section of my public library. My mom doesn't remember that, but I do, vividly. Seems small town kids aren't supposed to rock the boat. But, I was a boat rocker alright--and I had already read through the few shelves of the young adult section. I knew our librarian by her first name and I loved how she would stroke the cover of the books as I checked them out, smile gently, and say, "Ahh, another good one." Then she'd stamp the due date (remember that?) and remove the card to file it in that magical place that only librarians knew about.

My house smells wonderful, I'm making a roast and root veggies, it's warm and dry and Tom Hanks is launching his first attempt at getting off the island. I'm so thankful to be on my own little island, Couch Key, and I'm thankful that I haven't been tried nearly as terribly as Hanks' character. I'm thankful that I've never had to be without my precious books.

They saw me through bad times, and they're still here for the good.

I'm reading 31 Hours by Masha Hamilton. It's a fascinating peek inside terrorism. The language is amazing. I'm savoring every word.

What are you reading? If you're not reading at all, why not?

Castaway Roast

Cause I just have a feeling that Tom Hanks craved comfort food while stranded on his island.

Sprinkle a rump roast with white pepper, black pepper, a smidgen of Cayenne, paprika, thyme, and oregano. Be relatively liberal with each. Sprinkle with a little soy sauce, sprinkle with salt, and rub it all over the roast. Put about 1/4 inch of water in the bottom of a roasting pan that's been sprayed with nonstick spray. Place roast, fat side up in pan.

Roast at 325 until desired doneness. 25 to 30 minutes per pound for rare, 28 to 33 for medium rare, 31 to 36 minutes for medium, and as long as you want for well done (well, not quite, but you know what I mean). Measure temp with an instant read thermometer. Let roast stand at least 10 minutes before carving.

Roasted Roots

Visit your local farmers market or grocery store and buy some of those weird looking veggies that end in 'ip. You know turnIPs and parsnIPs. Buy some big carrots, not the weird nubby ones in the bags. Buy the ones you actually have to peel. Really, it's not that hard, you can handle it. If you're really feeling brave, buy beets. Honestly, they're good. Try them. Then peel them all, chop into big pieces, toss with olive oil, seasalt, pepper, whole garlic cloves and your favorite herbs. I used rosemary this time and roast them until their tender. They'll get odd and wrinkled and unphotogenic, but that's ok, because what you're after is taste . And they taste divine. Young One still thinks the "white things are potatoes, right?" Sure they are.

Hey, it's your Self, Remember Me?

2009-10-16T07:54:00.001-05:00

A long time ago we promised never to call each other Mom or Dad. I find that so weird and kind of incestuous. I watched the Duggar family the other day and her simpering, "Oh, Daddy!" made me throw up in my mouth just a little.

You get this title, Mom, once you get pregnant. Nurses in your prenatal clinic call you that. The Target checkout guy calls you Mom when you're buying a stroller or car seat. Strangers who have personal space issues call you mommy and touch your stomach, despite the maternity shirt that says "Back away from the Belly Button".

The name tag doesn't really get tattooed on, though, until you're holding that little squirming bit of joy in the hospital. And it's cemented forever, once you realize in the car on the way home that people are actually entrusting you with another human being. "Wait, wait, do you realize we're clueless?" I shouted as we pulled away from the curb of the hospital.

I've been a mom now for twelve years. I've had every version of the name thrust upon me, from the first babbled "Ma Ma Ma Ma" to the whiny, eye-rolling "Muhhhhhuooooooooooooooooooom" of middle school. The other day, though, this name slammed into me so furiously that I got weak and nearly lost my breath completely. Tired after dealing with the flu and no sleep and while picking up Young One's homework at school, I introduced myself as, "Mom."

Thud. Stare. Blinking eyes.

And then, thankfully...laughter. Through laughter induced tears, I reintroduced myself to the school secretary, Keeper of the Gate, Knower of all Things Academic and Not, Lord of the Hall Pass, Protector or the Phone Lines, and Shield to the Inner Sanctum of Deans and Principals.

She's "Mom" too and totally understood. Thank God it wasn't Dr. Principal. She probably would have been obligated to call child protective services.

I think I'm a late bloomer when it comes to carving out me time. My neighbors, who have two delightful adult children, have been going out on dates every Friday night for 37 years. I have friends who knit (and actually like it), take classes, and schedule massages. I know people who fit in work outs, book clubs, and volunteer work that has nothing to do with a PTA. I know a couple of stay at home moms that have cleaning ladies--go girl!

I have the same twenty four hours that they do? Why can't I fit me in? Because, wearing this mom name tag, taking care of the house, and being selfless has a price. You don't get weekends (think about it, what jobs do you do on the weekends that you don't do during the week). You work mostly fourteen hour days with no overtime, no lunch break, and no pay. Most of what you do goes unnoticed. It's yawn inducing, repetitive, go postal kind of work many days.

Looking at some old pictures the other day, I saw me again for the first time in a long time. And it felt like a door opened. Screaming, demanding, or just taking, I'm going to get time for me somehow.

Want to join me?

Today, My Little Chickadee, We're Traveling to Belgium

2009-10-15T06:00:00.000-05:00

One of my last boxes from Community Homestead CSA

I can dress them up just about any way you'd like, but my guys aren't touching Brussel sprouts. I don't know if it's from traumatic cruciferous vegetable exposure in the past or what, but they just aren't eating them.

More for me, then!

Brussels sprouts can be planted in the early cold Spring months and harvested in that late, cool Fall. I got a picture in my box note of my CSA workers picking them in the snow.

Roasted Brussels Sprouts

Simple preparation is all fresh Brussels sprouts need.

1 1/2 pounds fresh Brussels sprouts, ends trimmed and yellow leaves removed-- or one large stalk fresh from the garden
1-3 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
:
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.
Place trimmed Brussels sprouts, olive oil, kosher salt, and pepper in a large roasting pan. Toss to coat sprouts with oil, adding by teaspoonfuls to use the least amount of fat you can. Sprouts are ready for roasting when they are slightly coated with oil. Place on center oven rack.
Roast in the preheated oven for 30 to 45 minutes, shaking pan every 5 to 7 minutes for even browning. Reduce heat when necessary to prevent burning. Brussels sprouts should be darkest brown, almost black, when done. Adjust seasoning with kosher salt, if necessary. Serve immediately.

Sorry I don't have an after picture of this recipe.

The Last of the Salad Days

2009-10-14T06:00:00.000-05:00

Snow comes when it gets cold. Things don't grow anymore when it's cold enough to snow.

Meteorology 101, right?

Sadly, my CSA veggie boxes are coming to an end.

Our next box will most likely be squash and onions. And maybe a few things that were salvageable before the freezing temps and snow hit.

This last head of red leaf lettuce has been absolutely delicious. I'm not a fan of bagged salad, but even the thought of buying heads of lettuce in the grocery store has got me cringing. There's something about the fresh from the field flavor that's missing from the grocery store stuff. I haven't purchased greens from the store since last Spring. Winter is going to be long.

My mom always made homemade salad dressing. Not only is it a cost saver, but it's delicious. Ever read a bottle of salad dressing? Ever had sticker shock buying all natural or organic dressing? You've got to try making your own. It's a great way to keep your kids busy in the kitchen while you're making dinner. A little goes a long way, especially on fresh greens.

Low Fat Citrus Dressing

1/4 cup orange juice
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon Dijon-style prepared mustard
2 teaspoons honey

1 teaspoon sesame oil, walnut oil, or canola oil--optional
1/8 teaspoon cracked black pepper

Mix all together and drizzle on fresh greens. You can toss the greens with strawberries, orange segments and almond slices or candied walnuts. Store in refrigerator. Keeps about 1 week.

Snowflakes in my Chili

2009-10-13T06:01:00.000-05:00

Are you sensing a trend here? I've had snowflakes in my coffee, in my cereal, and today, in my chili.

A snowy day means chili in the crock pot.

Usually this time of year my crock pot is doing overtime heating cider for post leaf raking, warm you up nirvana.

My Favorite Chili

Very low in calories and fat, this chili tastes like Wendy's fast food chili, but better. Makes a huge (6 quart) crock pot full. Be prepared to freeze or eat for days.

2 lbs extra lean ground beef (or turkey)

29 oz can of tomato sauce or 4, 8 ounce cans

2- 15 oz cans of pinto beans, with liquid

2- 15 oz cans of chili beans, with liquid

1 Cup diced onion

1/2 Cup finely diced celery, optional--I add it when I have it

2 cans diced tomatoes w/chili peppers (like Ro-Tel), with liquid

1 28 oz can diced tomatoes

1 small can green chilis (I didn't have 2 more cans of tomatoes with green chilis,so I subbed this and the can of plain tomatoes)

2 tsp cumin

3 Tbs chili powder

1 1/2 tsp black pepper

Cook ground beef, onion, and celery until beef is browned and cooked through and onions and celery are softened. Drain. Place in a large crock pot and add all other ingredients: beans, tomato sauce, diced tomatoes with chili peppers, cumin, chili powder, pepper, and fill to the top with water. Cook on low for 4-6 hours.

Snowflakes in my Cereal

2009-10-12T16:51:00.004-05:00

Again? Seriously, I know we Minnesotans are hearty folk, but this is ridiculous. Green leaves peeking through snowdrifts. Um, not normal.

I love the fall colors. If we get a fall that's simply green leaves freezing off the trees, I'll be so sad.

We're supposed to get more snow as the week goes on. I think I've already got Cabin Fever.

Snowflakes in my Coffee

2009-10-10T09:58:00.005-05:00

Snuggling in for a morning nap.

A peek of what's soon to come.

Yes, that's in Fahrenheit!

Warm and hearty breakfast helps to face a cold day!

Now THIS is what people think of when they picture my beloved home state, Minnesota.

Actually, it's really quite rare to have snow this early in the year. I'll take it. It was a lovely scene to wake up to and is rapidly melting in the mid morning sun as I type.

Brisk mornings like this get me thinking of Scottish Oats and piping hot Kona coffee. Yum.

Pig Diaries

2009-10-09T07:27:00.003-05:00

Wed: "I have a 101 fever, you have to come get me." I hate the fact that I've gotten to know the school nurse so well this early in the year. Major guilt. He was without fever and fine yesterday and this morning. ARRRRRGH.

Wed night, all night: Cough, cough, hack hack, "Mom, I don't feel good." Tylenol, no sleep, ugh.

Thursday Morning: Water in the basement due to husband malfunction (He was repairing the sump pump and left it off. It's been rainy). I told him that if he intended to go to work, leaving me with a mess that he created and a sick kid, that he should be careful what he eats. He took the day off.

Thursday Afternoon: I don't feel good. I'm not hungry. Fever. Fever. Cough. Cough. Fever. "I'm bored." "Do your homework." "I'm not that bored."

Thursday evening: TV. Iron Chef Garbanzo Bean Challenge. (I kid you not.) "Can I sleep in your room?" Slumber party! Kid on mattress on floor. I think I actually slept. Yes!

Friday Morning: Fever. Fever. Cough. Cough. Cough. Half a pot of coffee.

Thankfully, he's a very healthy kid and so, this is probably his "vaccination" for H1N1. I don't want to play into the media pig panic, but it's scary. The flu kills every year and we need to remember that to put all of this into perspective.

Vaccine is hard to come by here in Minnesota and by the time more is available, we all will have had the flu anyway. It's frustrating because there's so much information out there and so much of it is getting slightly skewed by the media just to get better ratings. Do you vaccinate or not? Should you ask for Thimerosal free vaccine if you do vaccinate? Do you need to vaccinate if you've had the disease? And how do you know if you've had the bug their vaccinating for if the doctor's offices are telling you to stay home if you have the symptoms and that they can't test for it anyway?

Back to School

2009-10-06T14:17:00.005-05:00

Will the guilt never end? Been thinking about him all day...

Young One is back to school today. No fever, just a cough. He suggested it and was even cracking jokes on his way to the bus stop. So, I know he was ready.

I would have loved to tuck him back in under a blanket on the couch. Spend another day just lovin' on him.

Last night, he requested homemade chicken noodle soup. Homemade, with homemade noodles. I was so tired, I was practically cross-eyed. I just needed some inspiration.

I called my mom, the wisest woman I know. And her answer, "This is what he's going to remember. His mom stayed home and made him homemade chicken noodle soup, with big fat homemade noodles. And one day, he'll talk about it or call home requesting that you make it for him when he visits."

So, I'm not just making a home, I'm making memories. Guess I can handle that! So, I uncrossed my eyes and I made that boy some pretty darn good chicken noodle soup with some big fat homemade noodles.

Just what the doctor ordered. If this ~~Jewish~~ Lutheran Penicillin had anything to do with him feeling better and heading back out into the world today, then it was worth it. His face and satisfied slurps while he was enjoying it were great thanks last night too.

Feel Better and Get Back to Life Chicken Noodle Soup

Start by making my chicken broth recipe found here.

Strain, add chicken meat and carrots back into the pan, along with the broth. Allow to simmer while you make the noodles. If you have a gravy separator, use it to remove the fat from the broth.

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 pinch salt
2 eggs, beaten
1/2 cup milk
1 tablespoon butter--I used Brummel and Brown margarine

In a large bowl, stir together the flour and salt. Add the beaten egg, milk, and butter. Knead dough until smooth, about 5 minutes. I just used my dough hook on my mixer. Let rest in a covered bowl for 10 minutes.
On a floured surface, roll out to 1/8 or 1/4 inch thickness. Cut into desired lengths and shapes. I just used a kitchen shears and cut into bite sized pieces.
Bring broth to a boil and drop noodles into boiling broth. Cook about 10 minutes, lower heat if liquid starts to boil over. Stir to keep noodles separated several times while cooking.

"Unspecific Flu Symptoms"

2009-10-05T09:09:00.004-05:00

"If your child has unspecific flu symptoms, please report it to the health office."

Um.

What child doesn't?

Young One is home sick today. Supposedly if he has a cough, sore throat, or fever of 100 or above, we're supposed to report it to the health office. Oh, and if he has "unspecific flu symptoms".

What the hell are those?

Cough? Check

Sore throat? Check

Fever of 100? Nope, it's 99.9 So, technically, I don't have to report it, right?

Here's the deal. If they have those symptoms, they need a doctor's note to go back to school. If they have those symptoms, the doctor's office won't see them. They want you to just stay home. So, how do you get a doctor's note?

Talk to each other people.

He probably picked up whatever he has AT school. It's too late to try to contain whatever is going around. It's already there. The last time I talked to the school nurse, they were dropping like flies and her cots were full.

Video games, rest on the couch, juice, chicken soup, Popsicles, maybe a nap, read a little, cuddle with the dogs, Ibuprofen, warm blanket, cool wash cloth, hugs from mom, dumb movie, cartoons, and early to bed.

That's just what Dr. Mom ordered.

Still Crazy After All These Years

2009-10-05T06:00:00.003-05:00

Look what $300 can get you at an arcade!

"Mom, they had these back when you were a kid?"

"I think they had them when Great-Grandma was a kid."

"For real?"

"Yes, even back in Biblical times, these glasses were a comedy main stay."

Silence.

"They must have really needed it back then what with the flood, babies floating down rivers in baskets, and whales eating people."

You can't argue with genius.

Cabin Fever

2009-10-04T15:08:00.003-05:00

Happy Fall!

Every year I repeat over and over again how much I love fall. I always say it's my favorite season. And it is, until the first snow. And winter is until the first hints of Spring come.

Our little family cabin in the woods is most enjoyed in the fall. I love the smell of the fall woods, especially the sugar maples. The crunch of the leaves as you walk is delightful. Geese are honking as they head South in perfect Vs.

The cabin is on a gravel country road. The walk in either direction is beautiful. We often see Bald Eagles hunting, perched in the woods watching over the open fields.

The quiet here is unlike any other. Cell phones don't work. There's no electricity. Battery powered, hand-held dohickeys get left in the car for the ride home. They aren't needed here when there are dead trees to knock down, sticks to bang stuff on, and the woods to hike in.

Pissy Hissy Fit

2009-10-04T08:24:00.000-05:00

"Oh, I do everything you do, I just do it and work a full time job too."

The next time I hear this, honestly, I'm going to bitch slap the speaker.

Life is about choices. I choose to drive a cheaper car, cut coupons so we can save for vacations, and make our home a happy one. Other moms may choose to work outside the home. I've done that too. Both are equally guilt ridden jobs. Seriously, though, gals, it's time to just let it go.

This fight. Well, it's over as far as I'm concerned. Every time a woman opens her mouth to bash another one, well we all lose.

I'm happy and content with my life and if you're not, then that's your problem, not mine. So, go fix it.

I heard the above quote in the grocery check out line. I must have been wearing my stay at home mom uniform for the speaker quickly summed me up and attempted to cut me off at the knees. I just laughed and said, my life is simpler and happier since I sold my business. I'm really happy just making our house a home. She didn't need to know that I'm not well enough to work. She didn't need to hear all the reasons that I don't. She didn't have to hear that just a few short years ago I worked twelve hour days and seven day weeks.

I did have some parting words for her. "Boy, I did the math when my son was young. I figured out that my salary would have gone for disposable diapers (as I noted in her cart), daycare, and convenience food (frozen lasagna peeking from a bag). Didn't seem worth it to me to be so tired and stressed out over so little."

OK, maybe I did contribute to the fight a little. I guess maybe I did verbally bitch slap her. Forgive me Lord, but my mouth got the better of me and maybe, just maybe, I saved her.

Or not.

She glared at me and I simply smiled and flashed her the peace sign. Turned my cart around and walked my mom jeans right out the door.

Have a nice day.

Being Content with No Apologies

2009-10-03T07:16:00.000-05:00

Nobody likes to hear excuses. I think it's something that once you reach about forty years of age, you realize, nobody really cares about the whys and the wherefores. You realize the fact that if you're secure with whatever it is, then that's all that matters.

Let me backtrack. We have one child. Now in the Mommy world, lots of Mommas weigh each other's rap sheets. Two kids, average. Three kids, admirable. Four, wow. More than that, Lord help you and let us all bow down to your greatness. Have one and there's always this awkward pause of, "One and only, huh?". And then the silence gets filled with what you imagine to be the ramblings of the other person's mind reviewing all the stereotypical only child traits. Brat, spoiled, self-centered, smothered, hovered over, bow-tie wearing geek, nervous parents...

I used to offer all our reasons. Six miscarriages, being turned down by multiple adoption agencies, having the disease I have...

Making excuses, trying to justify to another just why I am the mother that I am.

Reality? No one cares. And in a little blurb of excuses like that, without completely hearing your whole story, they're left with a lot of unknowns. And they judge all those unknowns with what they have--they're own experiences.

I love the honesty of kids. "Why do you only have one boy?" I got this from a little girl just trying to figure out how it all works. She was satisfied with a short simple answer. "Because that's what we got." Her answer? "Cool." If we could all just be satisfied to give and receive such acceptance. From her, I've learned to shorten my answer. "We have one. Stopped at perfection."

Laugh laugh. True human connection. No excuses.

I have one. It's enough. I haven't always been completely happy by this and if another came along, we'd be thrilled. But, I'm content. Content with no apologies. Believe me, it's taken me a long time to get here and I'd love to shout it from the rooftops.

I've found it's easier just to live in contentment than to try to sway someone who carries their own set of experiences and their own set of baggage.

I know this is a sign of getting older. I've heard a lot of people say that when you get closer to forty, you become much happier and secure in yourself. I can feel that coming. And, Lord, please forgive me, but I'm holding on to thirty nine as long as I can.

Living your life with no excuses is close impossible, I know. We somehow feel like we have to fully educate someone, but the problem with that is they don't get all the hidden little details and events that got you to where you are. The audience for such truth telling is left to best friends, husbands, and really close relatives.

What it all boils down to is that we want to be understood. And to do that, we first need to be accepting and understanding of others.

Maybe we all weigh each other. I once read a really great book about power struggles with women. It helped me tremendously in dealing with my 65 all female employees. Personally, I think the book was helpful with dealing with men too, because they do all this weighing stuff too, just in a different way. We all want to feel like our burden is greater and our journey is much longer than anyone elses. If one person appears to have more burden than the other, the second will try to offer up more. And what ends up happening is a neverending saga of trying to one up each other. It ain't pretty. When you figure out how to give some up to equalize things, so much can be accomplished.

What excuses do you make? How are you working towards contentment?

My Little Guy

2009-10-02T08:21:00.003-05:00

You get these glimpses of the grown up in your kid from time to time. Sometimes, it hits me hard. I'll be watching him when he's not watching me and, slam, I flash forward to driving, graduation, dating, college, marriage...

Hold on. Step back. Take it one moment at a time.

When I took this picture, I was quickly flash forwarded to graduation pictures. I don't know why. Perhaps I'm "psycho" as Young One once said when he was trying to figure out my mother sees all abilities. (He was three, I could see the gears turning in his mind as he contemplated finger painting the dog.)

Maybe I am psycho? Maybe one day we will take a picture framed by the branches of this tree. In the meantime, though, I'm going to continually remind myself to enjoy the ride.

Writing in the Dark

2009-10-01T08:38:00.002-05:00

It's funny how we mom's fit our needs in with those of our families. I know a fellow writer who types while nursing her baby. I know another that hides in her upstairs closet with her laptop, stealing moments while her children search for her. I have this compulsion to write, but I can't seem to do it if the rest of my life isn't neatly compartmentalized into done to do lists and proactive planning.

Well, that's going to change. I've decided that I need to get me back. I spend so much time worrying and taking care of everyone else that I've lost quite a bit of myself. And I want me back. Writing makes me happy, so I'm going to figure out how I can fit it in. Nope, scratch that. I'm going to make it a priority and, at the same time, I'm going to become more of a priority too.

I've been clickin' and clackin' at these keys for years now. I've written many essays, been published under other names, and been working on a novel for a couple of years now.

I remember losing half of said novel when a virus hit my computer. Looking back, it's the best thing that could have ever happened to it. The rewrite has been tremendously rewarding and successful, but I push it aside, let all the squeaky wheels in my life get the grease. Ugh. It's frustrating even to put it down on paper. I'm not even sure I'm getting through.

I come from writer stock. My brother is a published author. My mom a gifted writer. I can rattle off a letter, a story, an article in very little time. This ramble has taken less than five minutes to get out. I get lost in words. I love to play with them. I've received several job offers since I sold my business to work with words, but the timing, the details, or my situation hasn't been ideal. And, honestly, what was really wrong with all these offers is that the words wouldn't be mine. They'd be smothered with do's and don'ts and must haves and parameters that just suffocate the creative energy in me. Not to mention the fact that I'm really not well enough to handle a full time job with full time responsibilities. And I guess, deep down, I want to write only for me, on my terms, and in my time.

I haven't received a dime for any of the writing I've done so far and that's fine with me. I haven't received any credit or accolades either, and that's fine too. My goal is not to earn a living through writing or to get attention or applause, but to get all the words that rattle around in my head down. Perhaps it's a bit of a compulsion, perhaps it's part of a healing process. Perhaps, I'm just a little crazy.

My blog has been solely mine. I don't spread it around, I don't publicize it and I have been very neglectful lately, mostly because I've been writing elsewhere.

Scary as it is to declare this. I want to write. I want to focus less on documenting my life and more on creating what I know are stories I need to tell. I also think I need to make some changes in my blog life. I think I need to branch out and share more to those closest to me and to others.

This is jumbled and not a great example of my writing style, but I'm excited and nervous and ready to focus more on what makes me happy. And what makes me happy is to write. And to write no longer hidden under someone else's name or behind the pages of a tiny blog. I want to own it, claim it, unwrapped and raw, but all mine.

Do I have the courage to click Publish Post? If you're reading this, I guess I do.

Nerf War 2009

2009-10-01T08:16:00.000-05:00

Can you Say Poop in Church?

2009-09-24T08:27:00.002-05:00

"Well, honey, you just did."

My favorite moment at our first Confirmation small group last night.

It's gonna be a fun and crazy ride.

A Good Reminder, A Good Balance

2009-09-23T06:00:00.000-05:00

Taken by Young One on our vacation up the Gunflint Trail

I watch the clock. I'm Type A and somewhat proud of it. Ask me to get it done and it will and then some. I'm an overachiever, perfectionist, can't relax if the house is a mess kind of person. I can't sit down if there's laundry to do or beds to be made. I rarely just watch TV. I'll watch, but I'll be emailing, writing, folding laundry, sorting coupons.

D is the exact opposite. And it's good for me.

He reminds me that, for right now, good enough is perfection. And I need to hear that.

We were watching City Slickers on TV the other night. I was folding laundry. All three of us had our laptops up and running. Mine was closed so I could fold towels. Young One's blow out birthday bash trip to Dave and Busters had occurred that day. Five boys at an arcade had wiped all of us out. Young One had a sore throat.

I looked around and commented wryly about our "family togetherness". And D quietly reminded me that it was enough.

And he was right. We balance each other and I need that. It was fine just to be that night. Fine to be together and apart at the same time. It was enough.

Thanks.

He is Not a Pig. He Just Sounds Like One.

2009-09-22T08:11:00.002-05:00

The H1N1 ~~media induced panic~~ epidemic has got everyone going a little crazy.

Young One called about half way through his day yesterday. "You have to come get me." And then, click, the phone went dead.

Now, he isn't one to be in the dean's office for bad behavior. I turned the talk radio channel on the car stereo and couldn't find news of a lock down or school shooting. The ride to school took forever. Of course that's the day I get behind a construction trailer going about 10 miles an hour in a 45 zone.

I get to school and find he's in the nurse's office. He'd been snorting, sneezing, and blowing his nose all weekend. We're allergy people and ragweed is running rampant here in Minnesota. We're used to it. He's not feeling well, he tells me, and the nurse informs me that he has a 102 temp. Hmmm. Maybe it is more than allergies.

Then, she proceeds to tell me that without a signed lab report stating that he's negative for H1N1, he can't come back to school.

"Here's the deal," I said, "If he is positive, it's too late anyway because he's infected the entire school just by sneezing in here." And judging by the overflowing nurse's office, he probably isn't the only one.

This is parenting 101. Your day is hopping by just as pleasant as can be and wham, a curve ball. It's no wonder that people without children have trouble with interruptions in their days. They just don't get hit with as many bumps in the road as we do. Let's just say that after twelve years of daily curve balls, I've learned to just roll with it.

We head out to the car and I call his pediatrician's office. "We can see him right now." Well, that's rare.

He has to wear a mask in the waiting room. Secretly I know this makes for a good show, but I also know the real reason is to protect the really vulnerable kids, those with chronic illnesses that could be in danger from ANY flu, not just the current headliner. He doesn't want to wear a mask. It makes an already stuffed up nose even more impossible to breath through. I explain to him that not all kids are as generally healthy as he is, how lucky he is, etc. That the mask is a souvenir. "You can use it as a hat later or maybe one of the dogs will wear it."

Long story short, after talking with the doc, explaining the history of his "illness" and her examination, it turns out it's a sinus infection surely brought about by allergic rhinitis (aka a runny nose). I roll my eyes as I explain, though, that even though the symptoms of the flu are symptoms that almost every kid on the planet experiences at one time or another and that because our school district is panicking, that I am required to return with a negative test and a doctor's signature.

The test for H1N1 isn't very accurate and even if it was, we can't utilize it. Our state health department (and probably every other state health department) has decreed that unless your a. dead or b. in the hospital, you can't get the test. They're swamped. Thankfully, we don't meet the criteria for testing.

His doctor's office could do the standard nasal swab for Influenza A, of which H1N1 is a strain, so we proceeded with that. Negative. Let's check Strep. Negative. Signed, stamped, sealed and delivered. We have a relatively healthy boy who's got green boogers, is snorting pleasantly, and is carrying a pack of antibiotics.

I think we need to step back and breath (preferably clean air). Put this whole H1N1 thing into perspective. The CDC has said, if you or your kids have had a respiratory illness recently, it's probably hit your home. And so, you've been exposed, hence "vaccinated". It's a flu. We get a strain of it every year.

We've become a society that media preys on. If it bleeds, it leads has become the motto and fair and accurate news has gone by the wayside. I rarely watch or listen to the news. If I do, it's the BBC on PBS or public radio. I'm so tired of sensational media, "studies say" without qualifying the study, and just basically "drink the Kool Aid" media. The news generates considerable advertising revenue. I wish that they couldn't. Perhaps we'd get real news then.

Be well, stay informed, and take your vitamins! :)

From the Mouths

2009-09-20T08:45:00.001-05:00

I don't know why this struck me funny, but maybe it's because he doesn't realize that there are cliques, groups, or what have you.

"Mom, we sit at the same table every day for lunch. And, amazingly, no one else sits there. It's just there, empty, like it's waiting for us."

And so it begins.

Mary Travers

2009-09-19T08:09:00.000-05:00

Mary Travers, of the amazing group Peter, Paul, and Mary, has died.

Last year, I was to travel to Chicago with my mom to hear them sing. Mary was too sick and so the concert was cancelled. I was so disappointed and scared. Frightened that her strong voice was so suddenly silenced. I knew it had to be bad if Mary couldn't continue.

Her music meant so much to me. The rallying cry of peace activists, Peter, Paul, and Mary's music is timeless. I will listen, once again, today.

It's Young One's birthday, so I'm not going to post this until later. But, I will listen today. Mary's voice soothed my fussy baby, it calmed teething, and served as sweet lullabye. If I had a Hammer was one of the first songs my little guy sang. I'll never forget how he'd pound his fist as he sang it. We still listen in the car, on lazy Sunday afternoons, and when I'm feeling particularly political.

Their music, her music, has been a constant thread through my life.

My dad hummed, whistled, and sung Blowin' in the Wind throughout my childhood.

My mom sat with me after a terribly painful breakup of first love. We watched a Peter, Paul, and Mary concert on PBS. Their music helped me run out of tears. It healed me.

I stood up for myself for the first time, firmly defending my love of the group when it really wasn't cool to look beyond the hair bands of the 80s.

I feel, in a way, as if a close friend has died. I'm sure I'm not alone. Her strength, activism, and grace will be missed. Her music will live on.