Remains of The Day

My Stonecoast Hat

2012-01-27T03:00:00.000-08:00

I knitted this hat while I was at my grad school residency:

I wanted something small and unobtrusive to work on in the evenings during the readings, so I left my sweater at home and finally started this hat I've been wanting to knit for a good six years.

It's the Center Square hat from the winter 2006 issue of Knitty and I used Quince & Co. lark yarn in delft and bark.

The hat kind of mirrors my experience at the residency (and forgive me for taking a metaphor to tortuous ends, but that's what we writers do): it starts out all enthusiastic and openminded, weaving in different strands to make a pleasing pattern, but it falters near the top (at exactly the moment I falter in my experience); I dodn't have the right needles to finish (size 11 double-pointeds; I even drive out into a snowstorm in search of a set, only to find extra long, glitter-filled acrylic ones that I cannot bring myself to buy). After stalling out, and considering giving up, I buck up and make it work--I put an extra-long cable on my circular needles and use what I believe is called the magic-loop method to finish. I am at this point skeptical, no longer starry-eyed but willing to give it a chance. I make it to the finish somewhat falteringly, but I make it. I've left some big holes all along my decreases (not sure if this was due to the needles or if I did my ssk's wrong), which I have to sew up when I weave in the ends. It feels a bit snug. Perhaps Stonecoast isn't the right fit after all? But I'm reassured that everyone has this same thought during their first residency, and, sure enough, the hat stretches to fit my head snugly. And it is soft and warm.

Perfect Day

2012-01-25T03:00:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, when your expectations are low simple, you get exactly what you want.

Last week, on her blog, Stirrings and Stories, Jenna asked readers to describe their perfect day.

I wrote: my perfect day would be sunny and quiet and I'd have lots and lots of alone time to go hike in the woods, draw in my nature journal, read and write. Oh, and someone would have left me three delicious meals (and would come later to clean them up). Oops, somehow my husband and kids don't figure in to my perfect day (maybe I would let them come visit after I do all those other things).

This past Sunday was one of those crisp and cold but clear and sunny days we sometimes get in January. For breakfast I made rice pudding with all of the leftover rice from Saturday's Chinese New Year feast and spent the morning reading, both to myself and to E and Z. Then C took all of the boys to a bowling party, followed by a German waffle party (it is rare indeed for those four homebodies to leave the house on the weekend, but for them to attend two social engagements without me dragging them by their ears is unheard-of).

I spent the day reading and writing (or, more specifically, revising a short story for my first packet). I went for a hike in the woods (the snow is still not deep enough to necessitate snowshoes or skis) where I spooked an owl off his perch with all my noisy boot-crunching. I read and wrote some more. I munched on leftover eggrolls and tofu and rice pudding whenever I felt the urge, and sipped chai all afternoon. The house was already clean from Saturday and the only housework I had to do involved washing and hanging a few loads of laundry and keeping the woodstoves loaded.

My husband and children came and visited after all that, and I gave the little ones baths and read them a story and put them to bed, after which I returned to my books for another hour before falling asleep myself.

It was almost exactly like the perfect day I imagined and it was almost exactly perfect.

Dragon Year

2012-01-23T14:19:00.000-08:00

Saturday we observed Chinese New Year in a celebration involving food, friends, music and, of course, dragons.

Going into our celebration, I was wishing for a nice Chinese dragon decoration for our table, so I went on Etsy in search of a wooden dragon toy, but all I could find were European style dragons (except this Chinese dragon puzzle, which I favorited, but failed to order in time). Then I remembered that Z had a bunch of these three-dimensional puzzle dragons that came in a Dragonology book. Their parts and pieces were piled up in a peanut tub, where I had been throwing them whenever I found them on their bedroom floor. We were able to (mostly) reassemble five of them and set them, along with a Chinese kaleidoscope that I've had my whole life, on the nature table on a piece of red Chinese silk (which has yet to be transformed into a sexy dress):

It's a bit of a multi-cultural dragon display, with a Chinese dragon, a Tibetan dragon and three dragons of European descent.

My friends Raina (of the great blog, Mamacita Spins the Globe) and Tina and their hubbies and children joined us just as I was deep in the making of fortune cookies (or, as many of them turned out, particularly the ones that stuck irretrievably to the pan, unfortunate cookies):

They helped me make the eggrolls (the making and eating of which being my prime motive and motivator in our annual Chinese New Year celebrations); in fact, they did most of the work--chopping and sauteing veggies and rolling them up. All I had to do was fry, which worked out great for me since I'm terrible at that kind of detail-oriented cooking (note my ragged fortune cookies).

I also made my world-famous sweet & sour sauce, a big vat of rice and some stir-fried broccoli. Tina brought three types of tofu, cooked two different ways and some yummy sesame noodles.

After dinner the kids made dragon puppets (here's E with his the next morning, in better light):

And then we dug into our fortune cookies and the Nian Gao cake (made with sweet rice flour and adzuki beans) that Raina brought:

Throughout the evening we listened to our Putumayo Asian Dreamland CD (which is more lullaby than party music, but it made a quiet, non-intrusive background to a lot of noisy kids) on repeat, and before the kids went to bed we read The Story about Ping.

To keep the celebration going (I think the actual Chinese New Year day is today, and the official change of year is ~~November~~ edited: oops, I mean February 4), we've been trying out our Chinese characters on the Buddha Board (I had brought out board and printed out some Chinese character cards before the party, but no one noticed these over on a side table; I have since moved it to a more prominent location). Last night, we read Daisy Comes Home and we'll be reading some more Chinese-themed story books that I picked up at the library (I can't remember where I found the original list, but I'll add the names of the books here later) over the next few days). I might even remember to dig out the red envelopes I made the kids a couple of years ago and slip some $$ into them (hmm, I could just use them for their February allowance and kill two birds and save some money).

Looking back over Chinese New Years past (2009-Ox, 2010-Tiger, 2011-Rabbit), I love to see how our traditions evolve and cement, and how what once felt thrown-together and half-assed now feels like a part of life.

Astrology (of any type) always confuses me, and the many different factors and permutations always leaves my head spinning and makes me kind of tired, so I won't do any speculating on what the dragon (or, more specifically, Black Water Dragon) means for the coming year, but I will steal this quote from this site:

Dragon is a legendary animal and it is symbol of emperor in China. Since the Dragon is coated with mysterious color, Chinese consider that the dragon is unpredictable, untouchable and people cannot see its head and tail at the same time. Therefore, we can might see something unexpected happening in 2012. Also a person with too many dragons in the Chinese astrology birth chart will become smarter, sly and unpredictable in the coming year.

So, may you have something unexpected (in a good way) this year. And may you be fierce and strong like a dragon.

Guest Post at Motherhood and Words

2012-01-20T17:31:00.000-08:00

Hey, there! Check out my guest post (about that little writing workshop drama--and what I learned from the experience) over on Kate Hopper's blog, Motherhood and Words. And, while you're there, if you're a mom who write or used to write or wants to write, take a look at Kate's class offerings. I can vouch for her awesomeness.

Finding a Groove

2012-01-19T14:42:00.000-08:00

Thank you all so much for your lovely, sweet, encouraging comments on my last post. You're the best. I'm stealing a bit of my (school) writing time to write this, just to check in and thank you and let you know that things got much, much better after that day. I'll be writing a post all about it for Kate Hopper's Motherhood and Words blog soon, so I'll keep you posted on that (and Lone Star Ma, yes, let's talk about next issue).

Happily, I had a day off Monday before getting back to "real life." I should probably have launched right in to my writing projects, but my brain wasn't up for it just yet. Instead I did a lot of puttering around, tidying things up (though they boys kept the house almost as clean as I had left it during their 10-day reign), and a fair amount of snuggling with the boys.

One of the things I had looked forward to (and enjoyed) most about my ten days away was being freed from all things domestic, but once I got back, I took pleasure in putting my little domestic touches around the house. Blue glass on the windowsill (I love blue glass in January):

And snowflakes in the living room:

And while the boys watched Harry Potter #6 (I know, I know), I spent some time sorting through my papers from the residency and getting my "office in a box" ready for evenings in the library. (Z, who loves to steal my camera, caught me in the act):

And now I'm trying to figure out how to fit 25 hours of writing into the interstices of my days. I've got it all mapped out on paper, which looks great, but implementing it is something else altogether. I've given up Thursday knit nights, and almost all social activities that don't take place on Saturdays and include my children. I'm putting myself on a strict 9-5 sleep schedule, with two 5-6 a.m. work sessions during the week (I'm not giving up my swim on the other three mornings, though, because it was key in maintaining my mental health all last year). I'm abandoning the boys two evenings a week and most of Sunday (though I'm going to try to work at home that day). Oh, and there are lunch breaks and 8-9 p.m. every night No problem, right?

I already find myself jealously guarding my time--especially the evenings. I've never been much of a nighttime parent (I think it all dates back to the bone-crushing sleep deprivation brought on by two nursing babies), but now I'm a drill sergeant at 8:00--to bed now! To the point that when M had a stomach ache the other night, I made him a glass of baking soda and water and told him to go to bed, while I meanwhile slipped into my room with a book of short stories from my reading list. Later I woke to C thrashing around in the closet--he was digging out spare blankets so he could sleep on the chair next to M, who was on the couch in, C was convinced, the early stages of appendicitis. It was sweet, really, like after 10 days alone with his children, C had finally hit that new mother stage when you get home from the hospital with this fragile being whose continued breathing you need to verify every five minutes (though I might cut him off from WebMD if he carries on this way).

And now, I think I should really get to work.

Hostility to Motherhood

2012-01-11T03:23:00.000-08:00

Dear friends,
I know I said I wouldn't be around this week, but I feel the need to be in the company of people who understand me.

In my regular, normal life I work in a family-friendly place, so I spend my days surrounded by people with families. Most of my friends have kids, and those that don't either like to be around them or at least tolerate those who do. I read blogs by women who have immersed themselves in the motherhood experience even more deeply than I have--they stay at home full-time and homeschool their broods.

Now, I know (because I've read about it) that motherhood is undervalued and that mothers are treated with contempt by some. But because I've been living in this little bubble of my self-selected group of like-minded individuals, I've never experienced this myself, at least not to any degree that it has left a lasting impression on me.

And now I have--through the proxy of one of my fictional characters--and I've felt sick ever since. Now, it probably sounds silly to react so strongly to the treatment of an imaginary person, but I believe there are elements of the author's self in any character, and the parts of this character that were attacked were those things that I share in common with her. Part of this can be chalked up to the fact that the only experts on parenting are those who don't have kids; my audience possessed a great deal of knowledge that it pulled out of thin air.

But there was still a strong, almost palpable sentiment that feminism and motherhood are incompatible. That putting your children's needs ahead of your own means you are submissive. That because you are home with your children while your husband is at work means that his life is richer than yours. That focusing on your children for a day or a weekend or a few years means you have no life, no interests, no intelligence. That craving a few minutes of peace when surrounded by the energy and noise of young ones points to a gaping hole in your soul.

Now, I had always thought that no one was harder on mothers than other mothers--we can be a vicious, catty bunch--but all that infighting over breast/bottle, Sears/Ferber, Montessori/Waldorf is like a friendly pillow fight at a slumber party compared to the teeth-and-claws-bared attack I felt. I am completely and totally floored.

I don't mean to imply that this is the general sentiment of all 100+ people here--in fact there are many mothers and fathers among both the student population and faculty--I just happened to experience the full onslaught of this sentiment from a handful of young, childless women. And I'm feeling a little defensive.

I have children. I am a feminist. I cook dinner, clean toilets, read stories, zip backpacks, wake in the middle of the night to tend to feverish brows. I am still a feminist.

I have other interests. I work full-time. I write. I'm a grad student. I make things with fabric and yarn. I take long walks in the woods. I draw. I blog. But children are not one more thing on a list of hobbies: stamp collector, bird watcher, mother, sudoku enthusiast, cross-stitcher. They are deeply entwined in my identity. I carried those three babies inside of my body, gave birth to one through long hours of labor and pain, and felt the phantom tug of having the other two lifted from my numbed and curtained body. I nourished them from my breasts, carried them in my arms and have watched them grow and grow and grow into fascinating little people in their own right. They are a part of me that could never be replaced by mere hobbies or pets (one detractor sports a CATS NOT KIDS bumper sticker).

Motherhood is complicated. Identity is complicated. Feminism is complicated. When approaching a complicated situation, one should maintain an open mind, and respect for what one doesn't understand.

How about you? Have you experienced first-hand anti-mother hostility and how did you handle it?

Thoughts on 2012 and beyond...

2012-01-06T03:00:00.000-08:00

I start my first graduate school residency this afternoon, which means I won't be around this space next week (or much after that, either, though I do hope to check in at least once a week). I've been so busy frantically trying to complete all of the required readings, in between dismantling Christmas, dispensing Jr. Tylenol, lemon juice, honey and chicken soup to kids who sound like they've worked their whole short lives in the coal mines or Cornwall, and eating leftover Christmas sweets, that I haven't taken much time to reflect on the year past, or the one ahead.

When I do think back on 2011, my first reaction is that it was pretty much a crap year. But if I look back over what I've put here on these "pages" I see a lot of good: I knit a sweater (plus three hats, a shawl and a necklace, and 6/7 of another sweater)! I wrote 30 poems in April. We went on a lovely vacation to Philadelphia. I got accepted to graduate school. We raised and released a monarch butterfly, got a pet fish, went to the beach and went hiking (only once...shame!). We discovered the beauty of our river in summer. I finally got my dragonfly net and made some progress in slowly untangling the mysteries of odonata families, genus and species. As far as my kids go, 10 and 6 have been pretty awesome ages (mostly). E and Z just had a huge reading breakthrough over vacation. M has officially exceeded me in math ability. So really, in the scheme of things, other than that place where I spend half my waking hours (The Place that Must Not Be Named), it was a pretty great year. However, I was not sorry to see it go.

As far as 2012 goes, I don't expect any improvement on the Place that Must Not Be Named front (that won't happen until at least 2015, dear god). Instead, this year, I plan to focus my energies on the other 16 hours a day. Graduate school, writing, family, living. These are the things that matter and I'll refuse to have my energy sapped or my heart broken over that other thing. Usually I make a big long list of goals and resolutions, but not this year.

This year, I think it will be enough to just hang on by my fingertips and try to keep it all together. I keep finding myself tempted by the projects, plans, challenges and events I see those around me taking on for the year--letter-writing! photography! sewing guilds! exercise! eating well! My own personal challenge is to resist the temptation to add anything else to an already bursting-full schedule. This year I really must say "no" and say it with conviction. My one goal, I think, will be to try and maintain a balance--to accomplish all I need to and not neglect anything else--and give my full attention to whatever it is before me: to write when I am writing and mother when I am mothering, and not let half my attention wander or guilt sabotage me. In short, I plan to create a rhythm in my weekends (and evenings, too), that allows me to integrate family time and writing time in a way that is healthy and productive for me and for them. Wish me luck!

What are your plans and dreams for 2012?

Handmade Holiday: One last knit of 2011

2012-01-05T03:00:00.000-08:00

After I finished five knitting projects in the first half of the year (one--the sweater!--, two--pattern!, three, four, five), I set a secret goal of completing one knit per month for the whole year. Then I started another sweater, which I am now, finally, almost finished with, but alas, it did not get done in June as scheduled. But I did whip out this hat, which I finished just a few minutes before 10:00 on New Year's Eve (and a few minutes before I went to bed--it was the most boring New Years Eve in a long string of boring New Years Eves--we ate takeout Thai food, put the kids to bed early and watched a movie about crossword puzzles. I kid you not. But due to a combination of insomnia/jet lag and coughing kids, I stayed awake much closer to midnight than I expected, so that's exciting).

Anyway, back to the hat. I turned out ENORMOUS!! And 10:00 on New Years Eve is too late to start another hat when you're giving the gift the next day, New Years Day, which is when we celebrated Christmas with some of our friends and family on this side of the continent (I believe it was seventh Christmas).

The recipient, pictured below, is going to try throwing it in the washing machine on hot a few times in an effort to reduce its gunny-sack-like proportions.

Here's to knitting in 2012! What's on your needles?

Handmade Holiday: Purchased "Handmades"

2012-01-04T03:00:00.000-08:00

When you can't make everything yourself (and who can?), it's nice to have sources of handmade items to purchase. I made profligate use of Etsy and other online crafter marketplaces this holiday season.

These deer in their forest and bears in their cave I actually bought for E and Z from Anne Moze last summer, in anticipation of that road trip that never came to pass. I envisioned them galloping wildlife over various National Park picnic tables. Instead they became stocking stuffers. So far, I think I've played with them more than anyone.

This beautiful bunting C got for me from Fresh Squeezed Baby. I was planning on making one for this big wall, but I knew I didn't have any time coming up, so instead I did a search on Etsy for "orange bunting" and came up with this and sent the link to C--perfect! In fact, like the fabrics so much, I've already favorited several fat quarter bundles and charm squares in the same family...thinking a quilt to toss over the back of that midnight blue velvet couch when I get it.

For my sister and sister-out-law, I bought lovely hand-painted silk scarves from JingJing Design.

And for E and Z, magic wands from Mud Hollow.

Z wrote no fewer than three letters to Santa saying, "I would like a wand that will do anything I want it to," the last on Christmas Eve because he was not entirely convinced that I had actually mailed the first two to the genial elf (for good reason--I hadn't). The last one I tucked into the pocket of my dad's red shirt--he has a white beard, so I figured it was as close to Santa as I was going to get.

When we got home, and found that Santa had arrived in our absence, Z knew right away exactly which box contained his wand, and when he opened it, a gleam in his eye indicated he truly believed it was going to work magic. Later he said to me, "I don't think Santa understood what I meant when I said I wanted a wand that would do anything I want."

I replied, "Maybe Santa's just not that magic, that he can give presents that don't exist. Or maybe you don't know the right spells."

So today, when I was walking him down the driveway after he got off the bus (he was alone...his brothers both sick at home), he said, "You know what I'm going to ask Santa for next year? A spell book to go with my wand."

Oi!

Other handmade purchases (not pictured) include: wallets for E and Z (for 3 Kings Day), a space necktie for M, butterbeer fudge (which no one was nearly as excited about as I was...which meant more for me), boxers and boxers.

Hooray for handmades that someone else hand makes!

Handmade Holiday: Received

2012-01-03T03:00:00.000-08:00

The Stockings

When we first considered going to Colorado for Christmas, I called up my mom and asked if she'd be interested in knitting the boys stockings. They were beginning to outgrow (both in age and volume--I do like to stuff stockings) their old Sesame Street character stockings that my aunt had sent each for his first Christmas, and I'd been drooling over the three stockings in Jan Brett's version of The Night Before Christmas. She said "Sure," I sent the book for inspiration, and I think all three were done within the month.

I had made it clear that Santa Claus would come to our house while we were gone, and the presents would be there when we got home. "Then we'll have two Christmases!" I exclaimed each time, emphasis on the "two" (in the end, we had something more like seven Christmases, but who's counting?)

But, on Christmas morning, I got a text from my Sister V saying Santa had stopped by her place and left stockings for the boys. We bustled over and tore into the loot. We just reread the inspirational book and E and Z were very amazed that their stockings are almost just like those in the book (they did take their time to point out the minute differences. We decided that Mrs. Claus must have knitted them, and that maybe she'd knitted a similar set for Jan Brett, which the artist copied into her book).

Hanging along side them are the stockings my mom knitted for C and me a few years ago (and they're all hanging from Sock Hooks, which are fantastic--no nails, no holes, no poke-your-eye out hooks--and made in Maine. And if you don't have a handy knitting granny at your disposal, you can get beautiful knit stockings from the same folks).

While Mrs. Claus was busy knitting, GrandSantaPoppy was busy making a fleet of vehicles

For the boys to paint while we were there.

He also made this cool ornament, somehow with some kind of magic saw.

And my aunt made this little flower ornament from pinecone scales, beads, wire and glitter.

Scenes From our Trip

2012-01-02T03:00:00.000-08:00

As we drove home from the airport last Friday afternoon, about twelve hours after departing Denver in the middle of the night and ten days after arriving in Denver in the middle of the night, after spending what felt the better part of those ten days driving confusedly lost through neverending suburban sprawl, and nursing three kids through four different illnesses, I was thinking, "Never, ever, again," when Z announced, "That was a good trip."

Six hours earlier, as our first plane coasted into Detroit in the early morning light, E had said, "We stayed up all night! It was fun! Not grumpy!!"

Perhaps six-year-olds are more resilient than old mamas. In any case, here's a bit of what we've been up to for the last two weeks:

Anticipation.

Our hotel Christmas tree--Maine-grown and smuggled in our luggage.

Street Piano

The Lego Store

City sidewalks, busy sidewalks...

Gems and minerals and dinosaur bones, oh my.

The Money Museum at the Federal Reserve Bank of Kansas City, Denver Branch (because I lamely failed to reserve tickets to the Mint).

Christmas Eve with around 25 relatives my kids don't remember ever having met (photo by Z, I believe).

Christmas Eve spent introducing and reintroducing myself and my children to my grandmother who doesn't remember ever having met us.

Christmas morning in the hotel room (in new Grammie Jammies)

Lots of screen time with aunts and uncles (Angry Bird, Harry Potter and, here, photos of Greece, I think).

Christmas Day balsa wood plane races.

City lights.

Art photography by Z.

Falling in love with Waffles, despite his sharp claws.

Rare moments of brotherly love.

Discovering powder.

The ritual photo of Twin No. 1,

And Twin No. 2.

Checking out Grandpoppy's shop.

And, at long last, sleep, undignified as it may be, on the red carpet of Concourse B in the Detroit airport.

Handmade Holiday: Pileated Woodpecker

2011-12-30T03:00:00.000-08:00

And, last but not least, I needle-felted this pileated woodpecker for my (ex-step-)mother-in-law. She had mentioned last winter that she wanted a life-sized pileated woodpecker for the top of her Christmas tree (and as we have an elf on the top of our tree, and I grew up with a scarecrow as a tree-topper, this did not strike me as the least bit odd). This one falls just a bit short of full-sized, at 16" long. I hope she won't be too disappointed. He was a lot of fun to make, and my knitting group had a lot of fun watching me needle him, as many of them had not been around the year of the needle-felted flock.

And, like all needle-felted creatures, he didn't feel quite real (in fact he looked most ridiculous) until I put the eye on him. Z has put in a request for life-sized osprey and California condor. I think I'll need to get a multi-needle holder before I embark on anything that ambitious.

Provided all has gone as planned, we should have arrived home from Colorado early this morning (how odd to write that sentence 10 days in advance), and I'll be back next week with a report on our trip and a last post or two before grad school begins in earnest and I become scarce around this space. Hope you all had a wonderful holiday season, whatever you celebrate (we like to celebrate them all), and a Happy New Year!

Handmade Holiday: Kid-Made Pillows

2011-12-29T03:00:00.000-08:00

M came up with the idea, all on his own, to make pillows for people using these pieces of turquoise velour that have been everything from capes to turbans to bed curtains to tablecloths in the boys' room over the last couple of years. We cut a couple of them up and I introduced M to the sewing machine. The fabric was not a good choice for a first sewing project, all stretchy and curly and pilly and slippery, but he forged ahead valiantly. We stuffed them with buckwheat hulls and lavender, and I have no photo of the finished product because he was finishing them up late the night before we left (in fact he has a few more to do after we get home).

And, apropos of nothing, I had to take a picture of this little sign M made when I took it down to make room for Christmas cards. What an awesome little radical he is. Take that, Charlie Summers!

Handmade Holiday: Kid-Made Twig Frames

2011-12-28T03:00:00.000-08:00

One weekend I said to C, "can you think of any carpentry-type project the boys can make for the grandfathers?" And he said, "I dunno. Picture frames?" And I said, "Great. Can you spearhead that this afternoon?" And so I have no idea how these were made (other than they made liberal use of old pizza boxes for the backing). But I do think they came out great, and I think I kind of like delegating. I must do it more often.

Handmade Holiday: Kid-Painted Silk Scarves

2011-12-27T03:00:00.000-08:00

For the grandmothers and granmotherly types and, ahem, the Mama, the boys painted silk scarves with Kool-Aid, just like we did at their birthday party.

I took a bunch of bandana-sized silk scarves from Dharma Trading (Kool-Aid will only work when dying animal-based fibers like silk or wool, not cotton), put them in a pot of water with a few glugs of white vinegar and brought the water to a boil. I mixed packets of Kool-Aid powder with a small amount of hot water and vinegar, laid a hot, wet scarf onto some big paper, then let the boys go at it with Kool Aid and brushes. They tried different effects with brushing, blotting, splatting and dipping.

After they were done I hung them out to dry (above), then rinsed them in cool water to get the vinegar and Kool-Aid smell out, dried them again and ironed them to make them soft again (they get kind of stiff from the Kool-Aid, but soften up with use).

Handmade Holiday: Kid-Made Freezer Paper Stencil Shirts

2011-12-26T03:00:00.000-08:00

I decided to have the kids make freezer paper stencil shirts for their peeps again this year. (We did a few two years ago). It's a relatively painless gift-making process that results in a useful object. Yea.

M made this for his uncle K, stealing a scorpion design from a book he's been reading:

When I asked Z's auntie E what her favorite color and animal were, she said "If you're getting me a pet, I want a unicorn with a rainbow mane." So that's what she got:

For E's uncle E, I used a picture he'd drawn at school of the Brothers in their Brothermobile, from the ongoing saga of The Gold and Silver Stone, which takes place in Tom Lighthouse's World.

M did some fancy lettering to make a #1 PAPA shirt for C, and Z traced some stars:

For Grandpoppy, M drew an owl. I've never in my life seen my dad wear a shirt with any kind of picture or lettering on it, so we went with small and subtle. Maybe he'll make an exception for his grandkids' work.

See this great tutorial on freezer-paper stenciling, see my friend Sara's blog. This time around, the kids got more involved than last time (when I did the actual tracing, cutting and painting after they went to bed). They drew the pictures, picked the colors and did some of the painting. I traced the designs onto the freezer paper stencils, and wielded the Xacto knife and the iron.

Handmade Holiday: Acornaments

2011-12-23T15:00:00.000-08:00

Every Chrismas, I do an ornament exchange with my mom, one of my sisters and three of my aunts. I usually end up making lots of extra ornaments to also give to various other family members. Two years ago I needle-felted birds and the year before I sewed birds (last year I bought little wooden birdhouse ornaments on Etsy). This year, to keep things simple, I broke from the bird theme and made felted acorns.

In two separate sessions, I wet-felted a whole lotta balls, with some help from E and Z, and then glued on acorn caps and gold thread hangers.

Hopefully everyone likes them and doesn't think I cheaped out.

Handmade Holiday: Travel Journals and Stocking Stuffers

2011-12-22T15:00:00.000-08:00

I made very few gifts this year, compared to years' past, and almost nothing for the kiddos. Instead I've made Etsy my best friend. But I did zip out these travel journals:

It's so hard to find ready-made notebooks that are short enough for a ten-day trip. I bought two 99 cent writing tablets--one lined and one blank--and, alternating lined and blank pages, stacked up 20 sheets of paper, folded part of an old Rocky Mountain National Park map over them for a cover and zig-zagged up the side with the sewing machine to bind them off. I hope to encourage the kids to write and draw something every day of the trip, especially since they're missing several days of school.

I had bought a lot of little toys and things for the road trip that never happened last summer, so I was pretty much all set on stocking stuffers (I did buy socks and undies out of tradition). For the two magnifying glasses I had for E and Z, I made these cozy drawstring bags, lined with fleece to protect the lenses (which are real glass). I did the world's worst job sewing up the bags, but hopefully the boys won't notice (I'll just tell them the elves were really really tired when they made these, which is true).

Handmade Holiday: Easy Watercolor Gift Tags

2011-12-21T15:00:00.000-08:00

If you have young children, it's likely you have an excess of abstract watercolor paintings--especially if you have a tendency to play Waldorf school now and then. What to do with all those paintings? They're too pretty to throw away, but I assure you your kids won't thank you if you save them in the musty basement and hand them over in a huge box along with all their spelling tests and vaccine records when they're 35 years old.

I've used ours for Mother's Day Cards, Valentines and gift tags.

For the gift tags, I just stick on blank mailing labels (there are usually a few blank ones left over at the bottom of a sheet after I print out our Christmas card labels or GEMINI mailing labels), cut out rectangles and punch a hole in the corner, then tie them to gift bags or packages. Pretty, fun and recycled. Yea!

The Big Thing

2011-12-20T15:00:00.000-08:00

Remember the Big Thing I was expecting to come and fill the north wall of our living room? Well, it finally came last Wednesday.

This piano was literally on our doorstep nearly 10 years ago, and C sent it away. Another time it was in a moving truck, ready to come to our house and again he said, "no." Finally, finally it made its way into our home, and would you guess who has played it more than anyone? You got it. Apparently he remembers a bit more about those old piano lessons than he wanted to admit (his memory of the piano, however, was faulty--he had it at seven feet tall in his mind), and now he can be found sitting before the keys, picking out Christmas carols throughout the day.

Of course, everyone else is enjoying it too. M pounds out "Let it Be" and "Axel F" several times a day and E and Z take their turns tickling the ivories. It appears we have become a very musical family (with the exception of me--I took two semesters of piano in college, but it's been so long ago I could not even point out middle C).

Deep Breaths

2011-12-19T15:00:00.000-08:00

We leave for Colorado tomorrow afternoon, and I'm in that pre-trip "What the heck were we thinking?" stage. I'm at home now with two "sick" boys, who both look much better now they're not at school (though one did legitimately throw up). Since I'm very good at imagining the worst case scenario, I'm now picturing us stuck in the Detroit airport in a blizzard, with three vomiting children. So compared to that anything else will be just fine--we could be all sick in our hotel room, but people could visit us there, bearing ginger ale and Lego sets, right? So now I'm taking deep breaths and reminding myself that everything will be Just Fine.

I won't be blogging on our trip, but I've set up several Handmade Holiday posts to run over the next two weeks and I'm going to reveal the Big Thing that moved into our living room last week, so do come back (unless you might possibly be one of the recipients of a holiday handmade) .

This Weekend...

2011-12-18T18:31:00.000-08:00

I made Lucia buns Friday night (I had meant to make them last Monday to have for breakfast the 13th, but we were out of butter. I ended up mixing lost of raisins right in the dough and skipping the S-shape) and ate them on our holiday place mats and table runner (which are happily acquiring a patina of pomegranate spatters and orange juice splashes).

M and I made sugar cookies,

and Z helped us make peppermint bark,

(this time I used four bars of Green & Black white chocolate instead of a bag of white chips, because all the chips are made with palm oil and I recently read an article---M makes fun of me every time I say something he goes, "Let me guess, you read an article?"---about palm oil bringing about the destruction of the last of the rain forests).

And we made paper heart ornaments.

We read a lot of Jan Brett books around here, and I've always admired--and wanted to make--the woven stars that appear on the Christmas trees in many of her books. We used the template from the activity section of the Jan Brett web site, enlarged to 175% and traced onto heavy red and white paper from the scrapbook aisle of the craft store. The directions included with the template were rather vague, and I couldn't wrap my brain around how to weave the paper so it makes a kind of basket in the end, so I googled something like "Swedish paper heart ornament" and found some directions that were a bit more helpful.

M was able to make one all himself and E and Z got through the first three rows of weaving before it became too tricky (or they got bored), so it turned out to be surprisingly more kid-friendly than I'd expected. I glued a little loop of ribbon to them and hung them in the tree. They're meant to be filled with candy, in which case I think 175% enlargement was a bit too much.

The whole time we were making them, I was thinking about all the other things I *should* be doing--packing for our trip, reading for school, cleaning the house--but at the time, weaving hearts just seemed more important, and fun. I did eventually pack some stuff and clean. And some other things I had hoped to do before we left didn't happen, but they can wait.

Just before bed, we did light a couple of candles on our tree, which we normally do on Christmas Eve, and sang some carols.

This is the thing I'm discovering about traditions--it doesn't really matter what day or date you do them. And it's OK to skip one here and there and add in new ones. It's not about doing the exact same thing the exact same way year after year. Traditions can grow and change with you and your family. As long as you're having fun, who cares?

The winner of the Christmas in Scandinavia book giveaway is Aunt Kirstie. Congratulations and enjoy!

Christmas Magic

2011-12-14T18:07:00.000-08:00

This is what the underneath of our tree looks like these days:

E and Z are in their mode of wrapping up random things and giving them as presents. They've done this every year since they've been old enough to not eat wrapping paper. M wrapped up a couple of his old things as real presents for his brothers, and because none of them could wait, E and Z opened them almost right away--a small radio (which the two of them had been fighting over earlier: "It's not fair that M has two radios and I don't have any!") for Z and a book of rocks and minerals for E. I was too busy doing other things to butt in with a control-freaky "don't you want to wait and open them on Christmas?" and both boys were thrilled with their gifts. Magic.

The other night I pulled into our driveway at the end of the day, grumbling inward about kids not putting on their seat-belts when they get into the car and wondering what to make for dinner and thinking about my arm-long to-do list; when I swung by the big open field and turned into the woods Z saw the stars coming out in the dark sky out his side window and started to recite, "Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight..." My mind flashed to this post by Jaimie about magic, and it struck me that the magic is there, we just have to be receptive to it (which is basically what Jaimie said, only I missed the point when I read it the first time).

So last night, while M was at guitar, E and Z and I started rolling out another batch of cookies (chocolate gingerbread this time), and I put the Chipmunks Christmas album on the turn table. E handed me back his apron and went to sit with his ear to the speaker so he could hear every chipmunky word, then, when the record was over, he sat counting his money (he's my second Scrooge child) and looking at his new rocks and minerals book singing, "Deck the halls with jolly!"

I listened with one ear, while Z and I cut out gingerbread boys, girls and babies and also squirrels, acorns and oak leaves (because we never made any fall cookies) and thought about magic and thought, yes, these halls are decked with jolly. If I only stop grumbling long enough to feel it.

Don't forget to enter my giveaway for the Christmas in Scandinavia book!

Holiday Happenings and Giveaway

2011-12-12T19:16:00.000-08:00

This post is dedicated to the point-and-shoot camera.

We have been squeezing holiday celebrations in and around regular life whenever we can.

On St. Nicholas Day (last Tuesday) we each found an ornament in our shoe--four charming vintage pinecone gnomes for the boys and a tiny putz house for the mama.

The evening before I had told them this St. Nicholas story from Miri's blog (which I much prefer to the dowry version), and then C opened his big mouth and said "If you're good St. Nicholas will put gold coins in your shoes." So naturally, no one was very impressed with the gnome ornaments. There was also supposed to be a special chocolate which I had bought when I was in Connecticut, but that same big mouth had already helped himself to all of them.

I had also spent the last month or so threatening them that if they don't behave, The Krampus would come and take them away in his iron basket, and read them a poem I wrote for the speech club I belong to (yeah, I'm that geeky) in which Krampus makes all the bad children into soup. They must have been good enough; they escaped Krampus's basket this year. (I was pleased to hear, coincidentally, this story on NPR over the weekend which indicates that Krampus is finally getting some attention this side of the Atlantic)

E and Z had their holiday concert at school last week (it was the first time in seven years that M didn't have a concert), which was the usual combination of adorable and horrifying. Those are my boys there, the one in red with his hands in his pockets and the one in white and black trying to hide behind everyone else. I especially like how my camera gave everyone glowy white eyes, like they're little Krampuses themselves.

Saturday morning, before basketball practice (oh, yes, another sporting season for me to grouse about. Aren't you happy?), I strung up the "garling" E fingerknitted over Thanksgiving weekend. It wound all the way down the long wall that spans living room and kitchen, the side wall of the living room, the front wall, around the stairway and chimney, and back again. I estimate it is about 130+ feet of fingerknitting.

I had a hard time getting a picture to show the magnitude of it.

Saturday afternoon, we went into full-on sweat-shop mode, making holiday gifts (and Z taking arty photographs of it all). At one point Z, while doodling out ideas for decorating his gifts drew something that was almost exactly a swastika (with one leg pointing the wrong way) and said something like, "How about this?" and I said something like, "Absolutely NOT!!!!" and the whole thing ended up eerily and almost exactly like this incident, with Z crying and burrowing into the couch. Oh my.

Saturday evening we held our very, very early Hanukkah observed celebration, with our usual half-sweet-potato latkes, and a yule log menorah like the one we made last year. I was so happy to refer back to that post and remember that I made homemade applesauce (which I did again) and bought grape kid wine (they didn't have it so I bought blueberry). The health food store didn't have sour cream this year either, so we used yogurt instead, but I did buy some ruby red sauerkraut, which though it's made of cabbage, looks kinda like beets. I also served fried eggs, because now that the kids actually eat the latkes, so C and I can't have about eight each, they're not that filling (C's hoping I'll make a brisket next year, whatever that is). I couldn't find any fair trade/organic chocolate gelt, so we went without dessert (I think cheese blintzes should be on the menu next year...that sounds much better than brisket).

I had meant to get a CD of Jewish music, but I forgot when I was at the bookstore earlier in the week, so instead we marched around the kitchen with tambourines and castanets singing "Hanukkah is Here" and pretending to dance the hora, and M played the dreidel song on his trumpet.

Afterward, instead of playing dreidel, we went out for a moon walk.

(I wasn't going to post this photo until I saw Rachel's post about the lunar eclipse, and the photo she included, and thought, why not? Why not embrace the humble point-and-shoot in all its beautiful limitations?)

Speaking of photographic limitations, have you ever noticed how hard it is to take a good photo of a Christmas tree? It's like they're afraid you'll steal their soul or something. I wanted to capture just how heavily laden our tree's branches are with ornaments. (You can also see the fishing line tying it to the window frames)

On Sunday, I ventured more deeply into our swamp to find more winterberry to add to some evergreen boughs I stuffed arranged in a planter on the front step. They're harder to find without the background of snow setting off the red, but they looked so beautiful against the setting sun and deep black water of the wetland.

By the time I got home and got them arranged (by porch light), it was too dark to see the effect, and I haven't been home in daylight since (these days of leaving home and returning home in darkness are so hard to take--last week I had to put the kids on the bus a couple of times so C could leave early, and it was so nice to be home, alone, in the morning light that I lingered a bit too long over my tea).

Which finally brings us to our giveaway, and this picture taken by lamplight because that's all there is.

I had promised another giveaway for last week, but never go to it, and this isn't even the giveaway I had planned (that one will come out sometime in the New Year), but I thought this one more seasonally apt: Christmas in Scandinavia, a collection of folk tales and stories from the North. I somehow ended up with two copies of this book and would like to share one with a blog reader who would enjoy it. Now, as a disclaimer, I must say I have not read it myself, so I can't vouch for the stories (but one is by Hans Christian Anderson, so they must be alright). I can't say if they're heavy-handed in the religious angle, or anything else (I can say I adore the outfit on the little boy on the cover--hmm, I bet E would be game to wear legwarmers, shoes turned up at the toes and a Tomten hat...).

So, if you're interested in Christmas folklore and Scandinavia, please do leave a comment, telling me what your favorite Christmas story is. Also, please, please, please leave your email address so I can contact you if you win. I'll draw a winner Saturday night (December 17) and send the book out Monday if I can get in touch with the winner to get her address before then (if not, it will have to wait until January--we leave for Colorado on Tuesday!). Good luck!

Living Room Overhaul, Part I

2011-12-08T17:35:00.000-08:00

The final room on deck for the Complete House Overhaul was the living room, which seems kind of odd, since it's the first room you come into (after passing through the mudroom) and the room visitors are most likely to spend time in, but that's just how it worked out.

I tend to clean in bulldozer fashion, starting in one corner of the house and pushing all the detritus ahead of me. So it has been on a much larger scale with this whole house overhaul, and much of the clutter that had been evicted from other rooms had sort of found a temporary landing place in the living room. Add that to the fact that I kind of neglected general weekly housekeeping since March, and this is what I had to contend with:

I kind of cheated and got started on the living room in November, cleaning and tidying the weekends before and after Thanksgiving. I did all the usual decluttering, dusting, vacuuming and mopping every nook and cranny like in the other rooms (I even kept on mopping right through the kitchen which I have not mopped, apparently, in months), and C patched and painted two walls that had never gotten their third coat, but much remains undone, and won't happen this month. But I want to throw out there my plans for the room in hopes that it will keep me moving forward and getting this room done in the next few months.

In this corner of the room, I'd like to put a tall corner cabinet (though that will deprive me of some high-value photo-hanging real estate) and under one of the windows, I'd like a low cabinet or bookshelf to hold the kids' toys and the TV (C has been lobbying for me to buy him a flat-screen TV for Christmas. I don't believe in spending money on TV--we're on our third hand-me down--however the smaller profile would be nice and a new TV would be free of PBDEs). Hmmm...

2011 was supposed to be The Year of the Couch. This is the fourth hand-me down couch we've owned and I truly hate it--it's ugly and uncomfortable and I can't stand all the loose pillows that end up on the floor 18,000 times a day. My dream couch has a camel back, scrolled arms, claw feet and is upholstered in midnight blue velvet (like something you might find on the set of a film adaptation of a Jane Austen novel). And doesn't contain chemical flame retardants or stain-proofing. And has never had anyone's butt (or cats or dogs) on it. Do you know where I can find such a couch?

I would like new art work above the mantel. Nothing against Modigliani's lady in blue, but I'm kind of tired of her. I'd really like a piece of original art in bright colors. And speaking of mantels, I would like one of those too. I was going to go to a landscaping company and buy a long, narrow, flat stone to lay atop the uneven, unfinished bricks, but suddenly it was winter and I'd missed landscaping season. First thing next spring.

We eliminated a big, ugly old rolltop desk (which served only as a clutter collector) and a filing cabinet from this wall. We have big plans for it that I will tell you all about when those plans arrive (any day now, I think). Right now it plays host to M's guitars (tell me, why does a ten-year-old need three guitars?) and various ukeleles and mandolins (don't look at the left side of the picture, or you'll see my desk is still quite cluttered).

I bought one of those stair-step baskets that for some reason I remember being The Thing in the 80s (maybe they were on some TV show?) so that instead of piles and piles of toys creating a deadly trap on the bottom six stairs, the boys' junk all goes in the basket and when it's full, they're supposed to take it up and put things away (supposed being the operative word here). I also want to get one of these drying racks for the space near the wood stove, for drying mittens and snow pants.

This little art corner has been a perennial problem. I think some kind of cabinet or at least book shelves would make it a little less chaotic.

So, as you can see, still a bit of work needs (OK, wants) doing in here, but for now it is reasonably tidy and cozy (and freshly decorated for Christmas). The original goal when I started all this was to get my house so clean it would just stay that way. I have found along the way that it's easier to keep things clean when you have less stuff. So the decluttering has helped immensely. Also I've been working on just tidying things up as needed--cleaning the sink in the bathroom when it's dirty rather than thinking, oh I better do that Saturday, or picking up (and putting away) items as I pass through a room, or taking five minutes in the evening to tackle a "hot spot." Now I think I can get back to my weekly House Bewitching and be able to stay on top of things without putting too much time into house work.

Here are the Total House Overhaul Archives (in case you missed out on any of the clean-and-declutter excitement the first time around).

My Room Part I and Part II

The Bathrooms

The Boys' Room Part I and Part II

The Stairwell Library

The Kitchen

The Sunroom

The Mudroom

I would like to say that this concludes my flurry of organization, but there's still the basement...

Mudroom Overhaul Complete

2011-12-07T18:11:00.001-08:00

Oh, Mudroom, how you live up to your name. I reorganize you on a regular basis (see here and here), but it never seems to stick. I think it's due to an inferiority complex brought on by your unsightly name. Perhaps if we take to calling you foyer (that would be pronounced foy-yea) or vestibule you would try a little harder to keep up appearances?

This is what I faced in said room at the beginning of the month:

Oh, yes, that's how we chose to welcome guests into our home. "Hello, and welcome to Chaos. We hope you enjoy your stay. And please, take some clutter with you on your way out the door (that is if you don't trip on a shoe and break your neck)."

It only took one morning, really, to clean out all the summer shoes and jackets and hats and assorted school papers and garbage and dust away the spiders and their webs, tidy the shelf, and mop the floor.

And the results? Oh, so much more pleasing.

We added lots more coat hooks and C brought home a pair of end tables from his dad's house that stand in as benches. They work more to define space than anything...I can line my shoes up under one and hide the birdseed bucket under the other. I also switched from a reusable grocery bag to an actual zippered gym bag for my swim stuff, which keeps it much more tidily contained (and perhaps makes me appear marginally more grown-up).

I would like new door mats and some kind of cubby thing for the kids' shoes (rather than a plastic bin), and an attractive receptacle for outgoing mail and my brother-in-law's mail, which comes to our house for reasons unknown to me. I'll keep my eye out, but I haven't felt compelled to hunt for such items. C and I have been riding hard on the kiddos to hang up their coats and back packs and put their shoes in the bin. And, believe it or not, the mudroom foyer has remained reasonable tidy for the last two or three weeks since I straightened it out. Tomorrow, on to the living room (you can get a sneak peek at what that room had in store for me in the second-to-last photo on this page).

Decemberings

2011-12-06T13:46:00.001-08:00

I do believe it's the Christmas season. Around these parts, we've squirreled away the last trappings of autumnal orange,

the dried leaves and chestnuts, the dead dragonfly and butterfly bodies, the antlers and acorns, the owls and same old corn dollies that have been slowly losing bits of husk for a few years now.

As a sure sign of the season, we spent most of Saturday at the kids' school's Make-A-Craft Fair (which C refers to as the "Make-Some-Crap fair," due to the abundance of craft foam, and which I like to think of as the Take-A-Crap fair for no other reason than it rhymes and I'm totally immature). In years past, I've run a table for making Wee Felt Folk, which has been a big hit, but a lot of work, both for me ahead of time (bending all those pipe cleaners and cutting out all those tiny, tiny shirts and pants) and for the kids to do all that sewing, so this year I had them make gnomes instead (wooden bodies, glued clothes, sewn hat)--still some sewing, still subversively not plastic. I had, according to the final ticket count, 33 customers, and they all loved it. I love to see the kids get so into sewing, even though most of them have never sewn before. I love especially when the boys do it (I would say there was an even split between boys and girls). I forgot my camera, so I just have this lousy phone picture of two very intent boys and my dwindling supplies of gnome clothes.

The rest of Saturday, we spend decorating. Our poor tree has the problem of too few branches (being wild-caught and all) and too many ornaments, so those branches droop, but it is loved.

My favorite part, as always is our Winter Village (which I've mentioned before here, here and here), which seems to grow every year. On the windowsill behind it are three paper houses my mother-in-law made a few years ago and some sparkly Putz houses that I bought at an antique store last year, as well as E and Z's gnomes from the fair (E's never got a hat) and three trees I made by winding wool roving around yarn cones. That's the only Christmas decorating craft I'll be doing this year, but what a satisfying craft it is--super fast and easy and I love the results. I'd make a million if I had more yarn cones.

Gnomes and Tomten patrol our other windowsills,

Along with three of our favorite Christmas villains, a Troll, Krampus and the Grinch.

This year I wrapped up the books for our Book Advent (more on that here and here) in the fabric gift bags I made last year, which made the whole wrapping process so much faster and easier than usual, and most of the gift bags will be back in circulation by the time I need them for gifts (more on our favorite holiday books here, here, here and here. I recently saw that Jan Brett has a new Christmas book out that we might need to get our hands on, even though we have more than plenty for the 24 days of Advent). E and Z are still game to read picture books, and sometimes M sticks around to listen (fortunately, we finished reading Harry Potter Book 5 just in time to start in on the Christmas books, and goodness I must say I'm grateful for the break!)

Things are a bit topsy-turvy this year (even more than usual), with holiday traveling plans ahead of us. We normally fit our holiday traditions in on the weekends closest to the celebration in question, but this year we'll be gone on Solstice and Hanukkah, so we're just celebrating any old time. Sunday E, Z and I played dreidel, using walnuts rather than coins (which lowered the stress level a good deal, as did not playing with M, I do believe--last year it ended in tears).

And we made and hung birdseed ornaments on our tree outside (which we normally do on Solstice).

I was going to make spekulatias cookies over the weekend for St. Nicholas day, but we were out of eggs, and, frankly, I didn't really feel like making cookies. Instead, E, Z and I made them tonight after dinner, while M was at his guitar lesson, which actually worked out well (I had the dough made ahead of time). I gave the boys half the dough to roll, cut, mold at will (with the occasional admonitions to please just make a few cookies) while I used the other half to mold into spekulatias. Rather than six hours like last year, it took us about one hour. Yea. Who knows how or when we'll get around to latkes or Lucia buns, but it will all be fine however it turns out.

On Sunday I got out a tiny stacking house toy for setting up a wooden nativity scene (yes, we're heathen/pagan/atheists around here, but who doesn't love to set up tiny scenes with tiny people?) and it inspired all three boys to play with all these stacking Waldorfy toys that they almost never touch.

I loved what they came up with. Later E came back to it all and made little caves for little wooden animals. Maybe just clearing all the junk out of the living room was all they needed to settle down and play with a simple toy.

Last summer, after we arrived home from a camping trip to find that the blackberries had gone by, C remarked that some day he'd like to stay home for an entire summer and work in the garden. Now to me, that sounds like my personal version of hell (yes I'd like the whole summer off, but I'd jump in the car and hit the road, not sit around watching the garden grow). On the other hand, I'd love to have the whole month of December off and spend every day baking and making crafts and decorating. That's unlikely to happen anytime soon, but in the meantime, I'll squeeze it in where I can.

How are your Decemberings going?

Oh, and P.S., my needle-felted Emmet Otter got a shout-out on the blog Geek Crafts. Check out her to-die-for crocheted Emmet O.

We Have a Winner

2011-11-28T17:32:00.001-08:00

Thank you all so much for your kind and enthusiastic response to my Lyme disease/thumb injury/blogiversary (re)giveaway post. M's finger is totally fine, but Saturday night I noticed E had a rash and remembered the doctor saying something about rashes, so I checked the amoxicillin prescription insert, which said something like, "If a rash forms while taking this medicine, it could be absolutely nothing, or it could be a deadly allergic reaction, so seek medical attention immediately." Right. At eight o'clock on a Saturday night. Thanksgiving weekend. So I called the on-call physician who was much more blase than the prescription insert, and said stop the medicine, and he would prescribe something else, which I could give E after the rash goes away. And then C said he'd noticed a rash a few days earlier. And then I forgot to pick up the new prescription on the way home today. So now I officially qualify for Worst. Mother. Ever.

Anyhoo, on to your comments. You are all so sweet and smart (and, yes, I agree--no messing around with Lyme! And I can't believe how many of you have had up-close-and-personal experience with this lovely pathogen).

I wanted to share a bit of everyone's good book recommendations, so we can all be on the lookout for a good read:

Miri wrote, "a really good book is 'diary' by chuck palahiniuk."

Emily HK wrote, "My favorite novel of all is "Possession" by A.S. Byatt, in large part because of the wonderful variety of forms of writing contained within the cover -- prose, epistolary, poetry, all in one amazing story"

Lone Star Ma wrote "I just finished reading my favorite sci-fi author (Joan Slonczewski)'s new book The Highest Frontier and I loved it. Future-political scion goes to college in spacehab and has adventures with corrupt politicians and aliens - very satisfying."

Aunt Kirstie said, "I recently read Needles and Pearls by Gil McNeil. It is a light and fun read, not great literature, but was just what I needed."

Domestic Diva wrote, "I have so many favorite books, one of them is Love in the Time of Cholera by Marquez."

Mary Beth wrote, "As far as my recommendation goes, all I can say is that I am currently _obsessed_with the Little House books. Highly recommended if you haven't read them as an adult."

6512 and growing wrote, "i just finished State of Wonder by Ann Patchett and LOVED it. Now I'm reading Cutting for Stone, not quite as thrilling as Patchett's novel, but lovely writing."

Jaimie wrote, "A book--well, I've had magical realism on the brain lately, so this is neither current nor particularly relevant to anything, but have you read Gabriel Garcia Marquez's _100 Years of Solitude_? It's in my top five."

And Raina wrote, "As far as books, I'm just in shock that there are moms who have time to read. I read magazines and blogs, but I can't think of the last time I snuggled down with a book. It's almost like seeing a unicorn isn't it? I did go to my cousins wedding a while ago (sans kids) and read a book on the plane and at my hotel room. I loved the book, but it might have just been because I actually got to read it :). It was The Heretic's Daughter by Kathleen Kent."

Yes, I have to say I miss the days when I had a baby (one baby) attached to my breast all day long and nothing to do but read (this did not work so well with two babies attached to my breasts all day long). But once I read an essay by a mom writer (and very prolific reader) that said something like, "never do anything you can do while your kids are awake while they are asleep." In other words, save the housework for when the little vandals can lend a hand, and use that precious nap- (or bed- or school-) time to read or write or knit or sew or do whatever fills your soul. I try to take these words to heart.

That being said, I haven't read any of these books you lovely ladies recommend, except for the Little House books, which I too became obsessed with last winter while reading them to E and Z, and when the boys lost interest in the middle of By the Shores of Silver Lake (much less bullet-making, and fewer near-death accidents), I kept reading through the series and into Laura's newspaper writings collected in Little House in the Ozarks (which I confess I did not finish).

I will keep this list handy for next time I get to read a book of my choosing (with two votes for Marquez, that might be the direction to go, no?). And I had so much fun with this, I think I'll have another giveaway next week. Stay tuned.

Oh, yeah, and I almost forgot, the winner of Suzanne Kamata's short story collection, The Beautiful One Has Come, is: Life As I Know It. Congratulations! Email me your address at andreaelani at yahoo dot com, and I'll send your package out within the week.

(sorry about the weird type size issues...but it was either giant or tiny at the end...grr...blogger...)

Thanksgiving Weekend

2011-11-27T19:01:00.001-08:00

Picking Winterberry

This has been a bumper year for these festive berries that line the roadsides, especially in wet areas. I was able to find some on our property without having to venture too deeply into the bog.

Finger Knitting

E rediscovered finger knitting and had knitted up about three miles of "garling" for the Christmas tree by the end of the weekend.

Being Thankful

We all took a turn writing (and drawing) what we're thankful for in our Gratitude Journal.

Feasting

OK, I only included this picture to show off my Thanksgiving table runner one more time, but I do love it so!

Tracking Turkeys

This was the one that got away, apparently. He and his mates were so happy to have made it past Thanksgiving, they danced all over our yard.

Muddy Biking

And Rolling Giant Snowballs

Because the seasons flow seamlessly into one another.

Planning

A few projects.

Painting

Getting a jump on next month's Total Overhaul room, and finally putting that third coat of paint on the north wall.

Tree Hunting

Thanksgiving weekend is insanely early (for me) to get a tree, but the boys wanted it early since we're going away for the holidays (last week E was crying because he didn't want to go to Colorado for Christmas because if we do, he "won't have enough time to look at the tree." I melted.) and next weekend is chock-a-block full of to-dos.

It's funny to read last year's tree-getting post about how anxious it made me to get the tree early (the first weekend of December) and how this year I didn't mind at all a whole week earlier. Maybe it was the snow. Or maybe I'm lightening up. I mostly thought about how we've made this same trip into the woods for a tree with a baby in a sling, and a toddler in a sled, and two babies in back packs and to toddlers in two sleds, and now they can put on their own snow pants and have snow ball fights the whole way and express their opinions about trees and saw through the trunk themselves.

We won't decorate it till next weekend (really, November is far too early). But we did clean and rearrange the living room, so that, in between the scheduled activities, all we'll have to do is cut off the bottom four feet or so of stem (C gets closer and closer every year to his dream of taking the top six feet of a giant balsam fir) and stick it in its stand.

I believe...

2011-11-23T18:05:00.000-08:00

...in the forest and in the meadow, and the night in which the corn grows.

--Henry David Thoreau

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Don't forget to enter my blogiversary giveaway!

Weekend Craftiness

2011-11-22T18:04:00.000-08:00

Over the weekend, we got a jump on holiday crafting (yes, I do consider the third week of November a "jump") with silk

and wool.

And I made that autumn birdie to guard the front door for the next week or so (until he's replaced by his more red-and-greeny cousin).

Don't forget to enter my blogiversary giveaway!

Monday Morning Drama AND Blogiversary (Re)Giveaway

2011-11-21T17:19:00.001-08:00

So this morning, right after I got to work, I returned from the restroom to see the school had called, and I figured it was about E, who had an engorged tick on his head last weekend while I was off whooping it up in Connecticut, and we were practicing "watchful waiting" (as advised by one of my co-whoopers who happens to be a nurse practitioner) until this weekend, when the bite spot started swelling up and looking red and hurting, and E developed that droopy-eyed low-energy appearance of a kid who just feels off, and we figured this was what we were watching and waiting for, so I called the doctor and made an appointment for 1:00. Only after I hung up did I listen to the voicemail and learn that M had jabbed a lead from his new mechanical pencil under his right thumb nail and that it hurt so he threw up. We waited for the school nurse to come in from one of the other two (or is it four?) schools she covers and when she wasn't able to get it out, I called the doctor back, only this time it took an hour to get through to anyone and they had no appointments and suggested I go to the ER.

So I left work and picked up both boys. By now it was 11:30 and it seemed unlikely that we would be able to get through the urgent care center fast enough to get to E's appointment in time, and M looked perfectly fine and healthy, except for a thin gray line under his fingernail, and as I was raised in the "Let's wait and see how you feel Thursday," school of healthcare, as well as in the belief that warm salt water is the cure for all flesh wounds, I handed M a tupperware of just that elixir, headed into town to feed both boys and run a few errands before E's appointment, where of course the doctor waffled a bit, because no one knows about Lime disease, really, but it was the right incubation period, and he does have a bit of a fever, but then again it's hard to tell if it's a bullseye or just red, what with all the hair in the way, and do you want to take chances with a disease of not entirely clear consequences and possibly lifelong effects or take chances with an antibiotic? Three weeks of three times-a-day antibiotic?

I had just recently read this post, and it did make me pause. While I'm not terrified of medicine, or even red dye number whatever, I do try to minimize my children's exposure to both--I always buy dye-free ibuprofen and give them honey (or ginger syrup) rather than cherry-red cough syrup. On the other hand, lifelong debilitating disease...yikes. The doctor and I agreed we should treat him. He was very thorough in looking up the recommendations and dosage on the computer (he recently practiced in the city and had little experience w/ tickborne illness; but he was also concurrently going through something very similar regarding his own young son) I appreciated his honesty (a doctor who can say "I don't know" is somehow much more reassuring than one who has all the answers) and his willingness to broach all sides of the issue. E has never had to take antibiotics before (Z did once for pneumonia and M for an ear infection; otherwise we've been very lucky), and I figure of all the times to rely on Western medicine, this is one.

By the time we were done, M did not want to go to urgent care, and I found the prospect increasingly ridiculous, so we picked Z up from daycare, headed home, M returned to the salt water soak and all three boys zoned out in front of the TV in a rare breaking of the "no screen on school nights" rule. Later, after C came home, he extracted the lead (which was a good 5/8 inch long) using--wait for it--a razor blade. It was stomach-turning, but it worked and M immediately headed off to practice guitar.

Here's the most terrible thing about this whole story: for the last week or so I had been thinking, nay, hoping, that if one of the kids got sick, I could take a day off and get some of the millions of things done that are pressing down on me like an ice sheet grinding away at a mountain. And now I have one kid with (possibly) Lime disease and another with a self-inflicted stab wound. And I had to take most of a sick day. And I didn't get one blasted thing done. I hate the phrase "careful what you wish for" because I detest cliches in all forms, but really that one couldn't be more true, could it?

ANYWAY, today is my four-year blog anniversary, if you can believe that (what I can't believe is whatever possessed me to think Thanksgiving week would be a good time to start a blog??). I just went back and saw that first post just to check the date, and it brought back that great big sense of inadequacy that dogged me then (and now), especially when I viewed my own life in comparison others' lives in blogtopia. I wanted this to be a little space where I kept it real--talked about the very unperfect side of motherhood. I hope I've accomplished this in some small way. I do know that I've learned to slow down and appreciate the little things, to pay attention and take pleasure in moments that, while far from perfect (or blogtopian) and wonderful in their own way. I have, on occasion, been accused of making my life look perfect, which it is not, and that is not my intention (so please come back and read this post if that thought ever strikes you!). Thanks for sharing this journey with me, whether you've been here since the beginning, or have just popped in for a visit.

As a small token of thanks, I have to give away to one reader a signed copy of The Beautiful One Has Come, a collection of short stories by Suzanne Kamata, who was one of my very first writing teachers several years ago. I won the book on a giveaway on Suzanne's blog Gaijin Mama a few months ago, and now I want to pass it on to another reader who might enjoy it as much as I did. Suzanne is an ex-pat living in Japan with her Japanese husband and bicultural twin children, one of whom is deaf and in a wheel chair. Many of Suzanne's stories explore the nuances of life as an American in Japan, as a mother of bicultural children, and as a mother of a disabled child. Once you've read The Beautiful One, I hope you check out Suzanne's novel Losing Kei and the anthology of essays about mothering across cultures, Call Me Okaasan.

With the book, I'll throw in some chocolate and something small and handmade. So please leave a comment here between now and next Monday (November 28) telling me about a good book or a bad Monday (and your email address so I can contact you if you win). Thanks and good luck!

A Quickie

2011-11-16T18:32:00.000-08:00

I made this little banner/flags/bunting/garland (seriously, why is it so hard to decide what to call these things?) a few weeks ago...OK, way back in September, but I'm just now getting around to posting it.

I had been thinking of making a fall wreath, but knew I had no time/energy for that kind of project, so I whipped this out in literally five minutes, while the kids were putting on their pajamas one night. Using a business card as a template, I laid it with a short side on the fold and cut rectangles of fall-ish fabrics with pinking shears* then stitched them to a length of turquoise rick-rack I had lying around. Super fast and easy and yet satisfying. I want to make a little fall birdie to replace that silly vampire if/when I get around to taking down the Halloween decorations (the kids made the window clings at daycare, using fabric paint on cling wrap).

*I must tell you about my pinking shears (again)--I inherited mine from my grandmother, and they were the dullest, most useless things, until I sliced through a piece of tinfoil with them a few times and now they are beautifully sharp. I don't remember where I first read the tinfoil tip, but I suspect Martha Stewart had something to do with it.

November Notes

2011-11-15T17:44:00.001-08:00

November is starting to grow on me. It's been so incredibly warm (and even sunny for the first whole week and more), and I spent another weekend away...this time with no kids visiting three of the most amazing, beautiful women in the world and one sweet boyfriend (no, not mine, my friend's...who cooked us some awesome meals) in lovely Waterbury, Connecticut.

Thanks for all the thoughtful and smart comments on last week's post about homework and kids progressing at different rates. I'm really not at all worried about E and Z's reading...it's just that Self-Doubt is the uninvited guest who shows up to every party. And homework...grr. I do wish we had a no-homework policy before grade three (as does Sara's school system). I really don't think teachers get the reality that most families either have two working parents or are headed by a single parent who works. There are not hours of idle time that need to be filled up with inane worksheets. In our house, we get home anywhere between 4:30 and 6:00 (depending on whether I get to work at 7:00 or a lot later and how many errands I have to run afterward). That leaves just enough time to cook dinner, eat dinner, get ready for bed and read one chapter or one story before 8:00. And that's on nights with no soccer practice, baseball game, guitar lesson or swimming lesson. The ten-year-old can do most of his homework independently while I cook (sometimes he asks me a question about math which I usually cannot answer), but the six-year-olds can't.

Anyhoo...enough about homework. Let's talk about November and all that means. Once, many years ago, I got it into my head to ride a nearly-feral horse bareback. I placed a five-gallon bucket upside down next to her and hoisted myself onto her back. She stood quite placidly, until I kicked her, at which she shot across the field like she had sprouted wings. I didn't even have time to clutch her mane, but went cartwheeling through the air, landing finally on my chin. I managed to sprain my ankle, bruise my thigh and hip and wrench my shoulder. I had to crawl a long way back to the house in this condition, and later told everyone I had twisted my ankle in a hole in the ground because I was so embarrassed.

That's how I feel right now, looking into the next few weeks and months, like I'm perched on the back of a horse in that split second before it tears off, leaving me crumpled in the dust.

We're traveling for Christmas, which we haven't done since before we had kids, and I've figured it out: we have five weekends before we leave. My first grad school residency starts January 5, leaving me one weekend to recover from and unpack from our trip (and no doubt celebrate Christmas with eighteen different factions of C's family) and ten days away from home. And then...who knows what. No time at all.

I'm trying to figure out a balance between doing the things I need to do and the things I would like to do and the things I just need to let go of over those five weekends. I just received the workshop packet for school--everyone else's stories which I need to read and comment on--and it's not as thick as I feared it would be, but I also got the list of required reading for the presentations during the residency and holy crap, I have no idea when I'll get to it all (so of course I'm here blogging instead of reading, oy!). I figured out I'll need to read a book about every five days for the next 10 weeks. In the meantime, I would like to do some Christmas making, but perhaps a bit toned down from years past. There will likely be no six-hour cookie baking sessions this year, but one or two batches of roll-out cookies would not be out of order. I really wanted to finish M's quilt for Christmas (that I started in earnest back in January!), but I don't see that happening. And if it doesn't happen now, it probably will never happen. Maybe I could assemble one quilt block and read one chapter/story every night? Plus there are lots of little things I want to do--ornaments and kid projects and such. And there are two rooms left in my total house reorganization. Plus I would like to bring order to the basement.

I've lately read some posts on other moms' blogs about how they're stepping back from blogging and creating and making and doing to spend more time with their kids, just being. These are full-time at-home moms who are guaranteed to spend more time with their kids than I do by default. It makes me pause to wonder if perhaps I'm making a mistake adding one more (huge) thing to my life right now. Already our time together generally consists of me coaxing them to get ready, hurry up, come on, not now, maybe later, let's go, we're late...two years from now am I going to have an MFA in one hand and a great big bag of regret in the other? Hello, again, Self-Doubt, who let you in the door?

Homework, Reading and Comparing Kids

2011-11-09T17:37:00.000-08:00

I was hoping to get home early enough last night to take a picture of something Novembrish, but the stars were already out when we pulled in the drive. It was a bit later than usual what with voting and all, but I'd been feeling so pleased that the stars are no longer out when I leave in the morning, that I was a bit disappointed to see them in the evening.

So instead I took a picture of E and Z writing their spelling words out. How cute is that? Homework continues to be a bit of an up-and-down struggle. Some nights it's fine, some we're doing it at 8:00, some we don't even bother. I saw E and Z's last year teacher at a soccer game this fall and I lamented about the homework situation, and she said that she gave her first-graders homework every night last year too (it's a K-1 classroom) and I responded, "Homework is not developmentally appropriate for mothers of first-graders."

We had parent-teacher conferences last week, at which we found out that M needs to be more organized (major surprise there--the kid is going to grow up to be one of those people with soup cans and piles of newspapers lining the walls of his house), that Z is sometimes mean to the other kids (including his brother, grr) and that E needs to speak up because the teacher cannot hear him.

When she told us what their reading scores are, I glanced at the list in front of her and saw that they were pretty much at the bottom of the class--there were a few lower scores, but they all appeared to be kindergarteners. Then I had this very awkward feeling that I wasn't sure what to do with--M has always been way ahead of grade in every subject, and I'm afraid to say that certain feelings of smugness creeps over me whenever I've had a parent-teacher conference for him--"I must be doing something right," I think.

But now, are E and Z's low reading scores a sign that I've done something wrong? It is true that they've had much less one-on-one interaction than M, they didn't start Montessori preschool as young as he did (though they went more times a week), and, frankly, I just haven't taken the time to sit down with them to read. For one thing, we have very little time at home, and I'd rather they spent it playing outside, doing something creative or listening to C or me read to them. And really, I don't think coming to reading slowly is a big deal. I didn't learn to read until first grade and it hasn't seemed to have affected me. Some teaching methods don't even introduce reading until age six or seven. It's fine. It's more that their mother has an issue adjusting to normal kids after having parented a superstar. I'm sure she'll get over it.

Weekend Away

2011-11-08T16:38:00.000-08:00

We spent the weekend in Rangeley with friends who have a time-share cabin/condo there.

We spent a lot of time doing a lot of nothing while we were there--

Swimming in the pool,

Eating (and eating and eating), reading, playing games and lounging.

The dads got up very early Saturday morning to go duck hunting (I'm still not exactly sure what's fun about that) and the moms went out to dinner (only to come home to discover that the dads had the bright idea of starting a movie for the kids at 8:40 p.m.)

Saturday we went for a hike along a beautiful stream that cascaded down through gorges and over falls, with enchanted mossy woods all around. It was nice to be far away from everything that needs to be done. We did rush home Sunday afternoon to run loads of laundry and clean the house, but a break from all that was well-deserved.

Sunroom Overhaul Complete

2011-11-02T18:29:00.000-07:00

On deck for October's addition for the Complete Whole House Declutter and Reorganize project was the sunroom. This is one of the most underutilized rooms in our house. Long and narrow, cold in winter, it mainly becomes a place for piling clean laundry that comes in from the line, which is off the deck right outside the sunroom door.

When I was thinking about what needed to be done back in September, the room was pretty much empty (other than piles of laundry), so I figured it would be a snap. Then frost threatened and I brought in all the house plants, and E and Z made a "set-up" with all of their little chairs and tables and a bunch of blankets and toys and things and no one bothered to clean it all up for weeks.

So this is the room I faced when my project began two weeks ago:

I managed to squeeze cleaning it up, dusting, evicting spiders, washing windows (Z helped--once C's mother swindled him out of $100 dollars for washing the windows in this one room; it's much cheaper to let a six-year-old do it for the thrill of playing with a squirt bottle) and even washing the floor (which still hasn't happened in the kitchen--I know: gross) in the few hours before and after our hike one Sunday.

The futon, which is generally covered in clothes waiting to be folded, was looking kind of dull and tired in this old cover a friend gave me a couple of years ago (when she noted that the even older white one was looking dingy):

So I made a new one using big squares of decorator-weight fabric, which I sewed together and stitched to the old white futon cover (this was a lot more complicated than it sounds--between my woeful math skills, the logistical problems of maneuvering such large masses of fabric and the time I ended up sewing it on inside out).

I've always wanted this room to have a bit of the feel of a Victorian conservatory. Part of that look, I think, involves really big floral prints. Of course wicker would be a bit more authentic than futon, but this room also doubles as our guest room, so one must be practical.

About two hours after I took these photos, all the laundry you see on the right edge of the photo below came in, along with the drying rack full of clothes (snow was on its way), so the room only had this open spacious feel for a brief spell. But I did refrain from putting the laundry on my pretty new futon, which is now my go-to place for lying about reading. Such a cozy room it is.

The old bird cage is part of the Victorian conservatory look, but Z and E have been begging for a bird to inhabit it. So I finally made one, with floral plumage and a red breast. It's a bit lumpy due to having been stuffed with fabric scraps rather than wool. And I have to tell you, when I first hung it up, I swear it turned to look out the window longingly. Even though the cage has no bottom so it could escape quite easily, it stays imprisoned in its cage (maybe because it has no eyes to see the bottomless cage--and no wings with which to fly).

There's still the problem of the coldness in winter, thanks to all those lovely windows. C and I can't agree on how to treat them (he favors window quilts, which I think are hideous, and I would like cellular shades, which can easily open up and out of the way). We visited a friend this weekend who has heavy velvet drapes on her big windows, hanging by spring-loaded rods. This might be our solution (purple, perhaps? or light orange?): during the day we could heap neatly fold them into a laundry basket and at night they would keep it cozy and warm.

I'm quite pleased with the ease with which this room came together (very little clutter to begin with made for an easy decluttering). This month, the mudroom gets it.

In Gratitude

2011-11-01T18:11:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, I walked out of the YMCA just as the sun was cresting the horizon across the river. The misty morning was awash in golden light and I felt flooded with gratitude--for the YMCA, for my morning swim. At first I felt silly to feel so grateful for...well a pool full of chlorinated water and other people's bodily fluids, but then I understood. Last January when I began to make swimming a part of my (almost-) daily routine, I think I had vague ideas about improving my stroke and fitness and weight loss and finally erasing the signs that this body carried twins to full term. It didn't quite work out that way (I gained four pounds that first week because swimming makes me so darn hungry). But I gained so much more. I had no idea last January that 2011 would shape up to be the very worst year of my life (so far) in so many ways. I did not know that swimming laps at 6:30 a.m. would be the high point of many of my days (and some days would be the only good thing...the only thing worth getting out of bed for). That for one half hour I would be mindful of only the motion of my body. That for that half hour I would feel good in body and mind. And for that I am eternally grateful--for the water, the chemicals, the lifeguards, the lady at the front desk, for my husband who gets the kids out of bed and on the bus.

I've been hearing from every direction today, "Can you believe it's already November?" And no, I can't. October flew by, and it was a strange month, going from 83 degrees over Columbus Day weekend to 26 degrees Halloween morning. The leaves seemed to slip from the trees without donning their autumn colors, yet some are still eerily green. And my own life took some strange turns as well. But now it is November. Not my favorite month, I will admit, but hardly avoidable. And it is undeniably the month when we are most likely to slow down and give at least a bit of lip service to thankfulness. Gratitude is not my strong point (I have mentioned this here before, and as proof, I did a search and came up with only four posts that use the word it in the last four years), but today, in honor of the first day of November, I'd like to make a little gratitude tally.

I feel immensely grateful for the people who in the last couple of weeks have given me words of encouragement, thumbs-ups, nods, handshakes, high-fives, emails, cards, lunches, even prostrations, applause and chocolate. My faith in the human race has been renewed. I could go into the ring and face any dragon with such a supportive army behind me.

I am grateful for volunteer readers. I sent my two workshop pieces off last Thursday after they had been read by a handful of friends who were kind enough to tell me I use adverbs excessively and that normal people do not say "neurotoxin" in everyday conversation (who knew?).

Speaking of writing, I am grateful that my family and my knitting buddies gave me my Thursday nights free to get those two workshop pieces done (and I am amazed, looking back, how impossible-seeming was the prospect of writing two 10-18 page short stories in just over a month, and how possible it ended up being). And I'm grateful for the complete silence of the UMA library (though I do wish it stayed open later than 8:00).

I am grateful to clear-thinking friends who welcome me into their home at 8:00 at night and talk me down from near-hysterics over a wee bit of stress. And for friends who offer acupuncture, energy therapy, weekends away and wine. Stress? What stress?

I am grateful for professionals who are really good at what they do (the best, so I hear) and are clearheaded, smart and generous with their services.

I am grateful for my funny kids. Yes they do drive me crazy, and no my patience level has not been at its peak lately, but I do appreciate little moments (for example, the other day Z was trying to set E up to be his straight man in a joke. E was supposed to say, "Doctor, there's a crack in my butt!" and Z would reply, "All ordinary butts have cracks." But E kept getting it wrong and Z had to repeat the lines over and over. C, M and I were rolling with laughter).

And I am grateful to you, dear reader, for coming here daily (or whenever you get the chance) to listen to my ponderings and, occasionally, share your insights. Thank you!

Halloweening, Part II

2011-10-31T18:53:00.000-07:00

We made it through the first of what feels like the Holiday Gauntlet beginning this time of year.

We had a wizard, a king/prince and the grim reaper. All costumes were mostly made by the wearer himself using large rectangles of velour which I had been given and which were sitting in a box for a long time (I wanted them all to get dressed up yesterday during daylight hours so I could take a good photo, but it did not work out). This is my favorite kind of costume--home made, with out too much work, with plenty of creative input from the costumed.

M waffled between phantom and dementor for a while before making himself this scythe from wood and duct tape a few minutes before we headed out.

Our friends join us and we travel in the back of a dump trailer-cum-hay-wagon and our trick-or-treat tour takes us around our "neighborhood"--about ten miles of country roads populated by our neighbors and the parents of C's childhood friends. So there's lots of chit-chat, "Oh, C! Look at your boys!! How old are they now?" and so-on. (The trailer saves in-and-out of cars and car seats and seat belts, but is a bit cold, especially on the fast ride home).

We had to stop by C's mother's house to see the papier mache pumpkin coach she made for her miniature horse to pull. Apparently, it made its debut on the streets today (see tomorrow's Kennebec Journal for evidence).

And of course the grand finale is the spooky yard next door to C's dad's house.

I think I have a picture of M in front of the chain saw massacre from every Halloween since he was three (the year he was scared of his own shadow--and his own ghost costume--but was fascinated with the creepy stuff in this yard).

And I have to give equal air time here to all three boys' pumpkins.

C carved them with them last night while I spent a few quiet moments reading.

I love how each one turned out so different.

I hope you had a great Halloween (and happy Samhain to you too!). Can you believe tomorrow is November?

Halloweening

2011-10-30T18:05:00.000-07:00

We woke up this morning to this:

Several inches of snow on the ground, and an apple tree bent over (yes bent, not broken) across our driveway (actually, I woke up quite a lot earlier to the train-like sound of lots of heavy wet snow rushing off the metal roof).

The boys, of course, rushed right out to play in it (after much only partially fruitful searching around for boots and snow pants that fit) and later Z and I went out to cut twigs for his costume.

(Can you guess what he's going to be? I'll give you hint: that silver writing on the broom handle says "Firebolt").

Later, I melted a big coffee can full of years worth of old candle ends to make some lumpy and unattractive candles for our jack-o-lanterns (FYI, I would not recommend using sand dug out of a wet gravel pit and full of small rocks as a base for holding your candle molds, a.k.a. toilet paper tubes, unless of course you want wobble candles with pebbles wedged in their bottoms).

We dipped leaves in the leftover wax. I have wanted to do this for years, but have never gotten around to it. This hasn't been a great leaf year, so I almost didn't do it again, but figured, what the hey?

As with many of the projects we do, E and Z started out most interested--M was busy coloring diagrams of cells for science class--but then they lost interest and M got really into it, though he was much more into the science of it than the art. The beech leaves curl nicely into bowl shapes, and he kept testing different leaves to see if they would hold water. Then he noticed that the drop of water held on the leaf and repelled by the wax magnified the leaf below. "Are you going to put this on your blog, Mom?"

I have to admit that he's a little annoying when he gets really into something--he gets so excited he just bounces around the house and he narrates every move and thought out loud. I was picturing him as a mad scientist in his laboratory one day, twirling around so excited by whatever concoction he creates or monster he brings to life.

Z took the bowl concept one step further and molded two beech leaves into a little cup that actually held water, just the right size for a little elf.

I really had no plans of what to do with the leaves. I strung a bunch into a garland, which I thought looked stupid in real life, but I kind of like it in this picture. I tried affixing some to a branch (top left corner of the picture below), but that looked even stupider, so the rest I just piled into carnival glass bowls and glasses.

AND, I made yet another holiday embroidered kid-art table runner, because I just can't help myself. (See the Thanksgiving runner here and the Christmas runner here)

All of the art was done by the boys at age five (the jack-o-lanterns E and Z drew last year and the bat M drew on a paper plate which I somehow had the organization to date).

This one's my favorite--if I'm allowed to pick favorites?

This is one of those "use what you have" projects--I had just enough white cotton leftover from something for the embroideries, and miles and miles of the orange with black cats fabric, which I bought for a tablecloth when we had a Halloween party years ago (seven years ago, to be exact, when I was pregnant with E and Z, but blissfully unaware that I was carrying two babies, and no one else knew I was pregnant yet, and I kept having to mix pitchers of bloody mary's that I could not drink). I even had exactly the right amount of rick-rack hanging around.

The boys were excited to see their old art on the table--M got into it most of all. I think it's sweet that big fifth grade middle-schooler that he is, he can still get excited about something so simple.

Hope you have a spooky (and not too snowy--we've got a hay ride around the neighborhood ahead of us) Halloween!

(For a how-to on kid-art embroidery, please go here)

Dancing Boys and Mountain Views

2011-10-25T17:28:00.000-07:00

I should be working on revisions 10 and 9 of stories 1 and 2 (respectively) right now (they need to go in the mail by Thursday--Friday at the latest), but first I wanted to tell you that:

-M went to his first dance Friday night. Fifth grade, ack! When I dropped him off, he just zoomed off into the darkened, crowded gym without a backward glance at his old mom. When I picked him up, they were in the middle of the last dance, some sort of prescriptive number where the singer goes, "jump to the left, turn to the right, etc." (everyone I explain this to seems to know what song I'm talking about, though I've never heard it before). M was about 12 feet behind what was left of the crowd, following along to all the moves (though he'd told me in advance that he was NOT going to be dancing), covered in glow sticks and clutching a big bag of candy he won in a raffle. It turns out he was the only fifth grade boy who went, but he was totally fine with that. I can't imagine how I could have given birth to such a confident kid.

-Saturday was the last day of soccer, thank whatever gods oversee elementary school sports. The season ended ignominiously, with me shivering on the sidelines from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. and M's team getting slaughtered (not a single goal in two games) while slip-sliding in (and growing steadily taller from) the mud. I didn't even get any knitting in because I didn't want to drop my yellow sweater-in-progress in the mud.

-Sunday we went hiking at the Kennebec Highlands, where I've wanted to go for a very long time but have never gotten around to it with our friends J, B and O. It was the perfect hiking weather--cool but not cold or windy, sunny but not hot. C and the boys disappeared up the trail--I only saw them at the top of the mountain for lunch and back at the car--and I hung back with J and B, bribing O with lollypops like I used to do with E and Z back when I was doing my hiking blog.

Cracking beech nuts.

Z's arty landscape photography.

M pole-vaulting.

I can't pass a mossy rock like this without laying my head on it. They are the best pillows ever.

A real view!

Of course, I "should" have been home doing housework, but that's no fun. I did manage one load of laundry each before we left and after we got back (so no one had to wear underwear inside-out this week) and made some progress on this month's Total Home Overhaul room (more on that next week).

-Monday night I did something totally out of character and went to go see The Flaming Lips in Portland with a friend of mine who won tickets. I have to say I'm not a huge fan of their music (it takes a lot of energy to pay attention to the radio, remember band names, etc. I just don't have it in me these days) but I had a great time anyway just dancing and screaming. I think I've been needing a good primal scream for a while. When I described the crowd to C as "aging hipsters," M said, "You guys are hipsters, right." Aww, what a sweet kid (though I think he was probably thinking "hippie," and since C does have a pony tail, after all, that would more hit the mark. Alas, "hip" is not a word that could describe either one of us).

-I'll be back with my regularly scheduled blog programming, at least temporarily, next week!

Holy Tomatillos

2011-10-19T17:43:00.000-07:00

I think we can officially declare this the summer of the Mexican harvest.

After bringing in the bounty of the poblanos, C harvested all of the tomatillos--which added up to nearly two grocery bags full, after the overgrown and frost-damaged ones were discarded:

Some of these we (i.e. C) planted this year; some of them self-seeded from years' past. That's my favorite kind of plant--the ones that grow themselves. If only there was a way to arrange for the tomatoes and basil and broccoli to grow of their own accord (we did once have potatoes and one sweet potato spring up in our compost bin; they were delicous!)

M helped me peel off their husks, Saturday, then I washed them (they come out coated in a sticky kind of sap) and boiled them just long enough for them to lose their bright green color everywhere but near the stem.

I filled up 10 large yogurt containers and put them in the freezer for winter feasting, gave away two generous bags full to friends and made a big batch of simmered tomatillo-serrano sauce to go with the last of chile rellenos Saturday night.

Tomatillo-Serrano Sauce

adapted from Rick Bayless

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.

Add two or three generous handfuls of tomatillos, husked and washed.

Boil until they have lost their bright green color everywhere but near the stem, drain.

Place tomatillos in a blender, along with:

1-3 serrano chiles, stemmed and seeded.

Heat a splash of oil in a large cast iron pan.

Saute 1/2 onion until golden brown.

Add 2-ish cloves garlic, chopped, stir for one minute.

Add onions/garlic to blender, puree to a chunky consistency.

Heat another splash of oil in a pan.

Add tomatillo puree and simmer until thick and fragrant.

Add 2-4 cups broth or water (depending on how many tomatillos you started with).

Simmer 1/2 hour or so.

If you have cilantro, add it at the end. (I've been cilantro-less since July).

Serve over chile rellenos, burritos, fresh tortillas, beans & rice, etc.

Mmmm...tangy and spicy and good!

October This & That

2011-10-18T19:02:00.000-07:00

I had been thinking I'd blinked and missed autumn, but then my neighbor told me that the maples had a virus this year and dropped all their leaves before they turned red. It's resulted in a strange landscape where some trees are skeletal bare and some, like the apples, are still green.

October's been a crazy mix of frosty mornings, rain and hot sun.

The Friday before the long weekend, we were out in winter coats and hats, picking apples with E and Z's class.

(They tricked me into buying a giant pumpkin, which I then had to cart on the school bus).

The next day, we trekked in shorts and t-shirts on a mushroom-finding hike through our woods, with my friend T, who knows quite a bit about fungi.

While we dissected nascent stinkhorns and lamented the many, many too-far-gone lobster mushrooms, E took a nap on a log, leopard-style,

and Z built a pot with river clay.

Sunday, we took the ferry to Northaven Island, to visit my friend L, who has the good fortune of spending the school year (and many school years to come, I hope) on the island.

It was an unheard-of 80-some-odd degrees the rest of the weekend. At fist I lamented that I had packed jackets instead of swim suits, but the October water out there off the coast was a tad chilly for even my bones.

Monday, we ate homemade doughnuts in the island church hall and hiked up a little granite knob through this magical sumac-and-fern forest.

And saw the whole world from the top.

Then rode the ferry home and back to reality (I really want to type "fairy" instead of "ferry" every time...it was just that magical there!)

The rest of this month has been very busy with soccer and halloween planning and oh, yes, writing. I'm making good progress on my workshop pieces--#1 is drafted and revised to death and now on to a couple of pre-readers (I live in terror of being laughed out of the workshop room); #2 is still under construction, but going well, I think. The ending needs some work. And the beginning. Those are the hardest bits, apart from the middle, don't you think? All the while I'm frantically reading Janet Burroway's Writing Fiction, feeling a bit like Bugs Bunny landing the plane while furiously flipping through the "How to Fly" manual.

In other news, my life has just gotten one notch crazier, and while I can't really tell you about it here, I will tell you this: When I was 14 and going through the process of being confirmed in the Catholic church, I became a bit fascinated with the lives of the saints (which I read about in a series of books I believe by the same name in order to pick my patron saint). To a melodramatic teenager, the idea of dying for your beliefs was exhilarating (I did not pause to think about whether those beliefs made any sense). The saint I chose, if I remember correctly, was Julia, and while I don't remember how she died exactly (beheading? stoning? burning?), I do remember writing in my report that I hoped to do the same one day. Now, while I've left both teenage melodrama and religion behind, apparently I still believe in standing up for my principles, even if it leads to being burned at the stake.

Sorry that's cryptic and weird, and no I don't expect any actual flames (though a friend of mine did just say, "haven't you ever seen Silkwood?" so I might be testing my brakes). This is just to say, send all the good vibes you can my way, please. And, also, your tips for relieving insomnia and stress (this evening I put on The Best of New Order and had my own personal techno dance party in the kitchen while making dinner, then walked about 30 laps around the soccer field during the boys' practice--we'll see if that makes it any easier to pry apart my jaws when I wake up tomorrow morning).

Soul Food

2011-10-06T16:31:00.000-07:00

It would not be an exaggeration to say that for nine hours every day my soul is wrung from my body drop by drop like spring water squeezed from an old towel.

It's hard to come home and be loving and patient and enthusiastic about anything when you feel like a dry husk, like the exuvia of some animal that has moved on to something else.

I had never really considered the meaning of the term "soul food" before, except, I suppose, for some mental linkage to deep-fried southern dishes (which I never really found very soulful during a brief spell living in Texas).

Then, last night, after coming home from another soul-wringing day, I headed out into the garden to pluck the tomatoes from their vines and pick the peppers, in anticipation of the coming frost.

Our sad, sad tomato plants.

I harvested the tomatoes first, filling a grocery bag with the still-green fruits. Then I moved onto the pepper bed. With each each luscious green chile I snapped from its dark vegetation, I felt another drop of my soul slowly seep back into my body.

C joined me and we filled our bag with big, fat poblanos, and threw a handful of fattening serranos on top (I don't know what became of the jalapenos, but no matter, I still have a freezer full of them from two years ago).

Garden clogs, work pants and tomatillo vines--a fashion statement (the tomatillos should be good out there until November).

Ha! We had finally tricked this glacial northern soil into bursting forth with not brussels sprouts and rutabagas but voluptuous, spicy, sinful and most un-Puritanical poblano peppers.

Ahhhhhh!

Inside, we placed the bag on the scale--twelve-and-one-half pounds! Perhaps a record for this northeastern corner of the world (the farmers markets sometimes boast banana peppers, anaheims, long red Italian sweet peppers, and occasional habaneros or jalapenos, but never poblanos).

The harvest.

I haven't decided what to do with them yet. Another meal (or two) of chiles rellenos, oh yes. But also perhaps roasting and freezing the rest. Or making New Mexico green chili (sorry, Colorado, but your green chili has pork in it) to freeze and bring out some cold, dark winter day when the sun and the garden seem impossibly far away.

The self-seeding morning glories still going strong.

La Cocina en mi Casa

2011-10-05T18:28:00.000-07:00

It's no secret that I'm a Southwestern girl trapped in a New England Salt Box. Nowhere is this more evident than in my kitchen which, admittedly, has a bit of the feel of a Mexican restaurant.

Said kitchen was the focus of September's installment of my Total Home Reorganization project (really, by the time I come up with a catchy name for this whole adventure, I'll be done with it).

The most offensive part of the kitchen was this corner which I'm sure was just sucking away all of our chi (in fact I'm starting to blame it for the complete and total suckiness that has been 2011). It was always an odd spot, an abrupt dead zone where the cabinets ended and noting else began. I tried a variety of furniture pieces there, but nothing really worked. Then when C put in the dishwasher five years ago, he just moved the cabinet that was where the dishwasher needed to go down to the end and slapped a piece of plywood on top.

Although the plywood came in handy for things like gluing and painting and cutting with exacto knives, it was never attractive and became one of the biggest "hot spots" in our house (that's Flylady speak for "place crap piles up"). Also, one of the kids broke the door off of it, causing it to vomit out the tupperware stored within. It was bad.

Just looking at this picture makes it hard for me to breathe.

I've had my eye out for the perfect cabinet/hutch type of thing, with shelves on top and doors on bottom, to fill the space for quite some time, but anything I saw in antique stores was either too wide, too short and/or painted with (no doubt) lead paint. Finally, I gave up on the antique and instead picked up a perfectly-sized piece at the unfinished furniture shop when I was there last spring.

In between soccer games and various other weekend activities, I sanded (C actually let me use the power sander), painted (with some milk paint I had bought long ago for another project that never happened) and clear-coated (on the most damp, humid day imaginable, despite the can's warning not to use it in high humidity--I aimed the fan at it and hoped for the best). Other than a few mishaps with doors and shelves sticking to newspapers while drying (oops), it turned out fantastic (if you don't look too close).

You'll note I placed a small wooden stationary box on the end of the counter for C to store his odds and ends, like charging phones, note cards and the book he reads while eating breakfast...I am not entirely un-accomodating.

There was a tense moment when it looked like C might have to take out all of the cabinets in order to fit it into place (I had measured from the end of the counter to the sill of that window in front of it, and thought I had a couple of inches of wiggle room; it turns out, however, that when C put in the dishwasher, he also had to move the cabinets down, so that the last one sticks out beyond the counter). As it turned out, though, we were able to lift it over the windowsill and had a good solid 1/16, maybe even 3/32 of an inch to spare. Whew. (I think C would have been completely justified in filing for divorce had that come to pass).

I haven't completely decided how to deck out the shelves--I keep rearranging things. On the top shelf I hung a tea towel my mom made me for my birthday, and placed a flowery plate and trivet, along with some vases and my Akro-Agate tea sets--that shelf is now officially the floweriest place in this house. Other shelves hold more useful objects that we use regularly--syrup and milk pitchers and tea pot. I do plan on making a trip to the antiques barn soon to buy something special for it (and, I must admit I've already ordered some Fiesta ware off of Etsy).

The bottom shelf holds the kids' dishes so they can, in theory, set their own places at the table. Inside live the Lunch Bots and water bottles (which were transient before and bounced from cabinet to cabinet to counertop before), as well as all the plastic storage ware I still somehow have, despite my efforts to rid our home of plastic (I just can't throw away "perfectly good" and useful items).

Happily (and not entirely by accident), the color of the new hutch (or is it a sideboard? dresser? whatnot? tell me, dear reader, what I should call it) matches closely (but not exactly) the big one across the room, whose shelves have a bit more breathing room, now that some of their contents have moved to a new home.

The fire extinguisher doesn't add a lot to the appearance of things, but it's nice that it matches the clock.

While I waited for the paint to dry, I emptied and rearranged every single drawer and cabinet in the kitchen. No kidding. I wanted to do it all at once, and take a picture of everything piled on the table, but that would have involved: a) clearing the table and putting in a couple of leaves; and b) enough time to get it all done in one event. Here you can see the contents of just the bottom cabinets piled on the counters and the floor (which was none too clean, so that's kind of appalling).

I got rid of a few things and moved some other things to more logical locations (which, of course, has left C lost in the kitchen). Everything has more wiggle room now, which creates a feeling of spaciousness.

I also cleaned the oven, the exhaust fan, washed all of the decorative dishes and dusted the shelves, and even dusted in that narrow space above the cabinets (oh, how I wish someone would put up some molding so I never have to do that again!)

Aside from the cabinet, I didn't buy much for this project, other than a pot lid rack (have been dying for one of those for ages), some new dish rags and towels (I demoted the grosser ones to either the rag bag or the camping box), and this cute hook for hanging towels:

And, finally, on the door to the basement (which is situated between kitchen and living room), I created an organization center. C had suggested painting the whole door with chalkboard paint, which horrified me (I'm very much a natural-wood sort of person, aside from the occasional turquoise cabinet), and I have been saving corks to make a cork board for somewhere around 14 years. I initially thought I'd buy a giant picture frame at Goodwill, paint it, get a piece of masonite cut to fit in it, place a divider down the middle, paint one half with chalkboard paint, and glue the corks on the other half. Then, at Goodwill, I found two brand-new chalkboards. I snapped them up, spending half (or less) the money that I would have on the other project and waaay less time. I just painted the frames, glued the corks (waited about a week for the glue to dry--perhaps I used a tad too much) and, voila!

I still need to wash the floor (I was hoping C would do it--I told him it would be sexy, but even that didn't inspire him) and polish the table, but those can wait for a dreary rainy day sometime. The next room in line is the sunroom--I was hoping to get it done before the plants came in for the winter, but with frosts predicted for the next few nights, I had to bring them all in tonight.

Answers, Ketchup, Jam and Freaking Out a Little

2011-09-29T14:47:00.000-07:00

Thank you for your kind words and well-wishes on my Good News post.

To answer Rachel's questions:

Location? Focus? Celebration?

Location: University of Southern Maine, Stonecoast MFA in Creative Writing program.

(The "campus" is in an old house in a state park; which is fitting considering my undergrad alma mater was a bunch of old houses on the edge of a National Park).

Focus: Fiction (yikes!)

Celebration: Hmm, good idea. I have not celebrated yet, but I am considering throwing a great big "Andrea's going into seclusion and you won't see her for the next two years" party, sometime after I finish my workshop pieces and before I receive everyone else's (and the holidays descend).

Last night I made ketchup (recipe from 6512) and tomato jam. I was a little sad that our own tomato harvest has been so meager this year, and that I did not hit the jackpot of free tomatoes that I did last year, and so would not be able to make these two favorites. And then I thought...why not just buy the tomatoes? Even if it's uneconomical, it would make you happy (and anyway, we can buy canned tomatoes for spaghetti/pizza sauce, so who cares about that?)

As it turns out, I found organic tomatoes for $2 a pound at the farmers market, bought seven pounds, made seven jars of ketchup and four of tomato jam and had a pound or so of tomatoes left over, so even if you count all of the other ingredients, like spices and vinegar, which I have on hand anyway, the ketchup came to less than $2 a jar, which is still less than even cheap ketchup (though a somewhat smaller jar) and a lot less than organic. And I didn't have to compromise my values and buy one of those plastic squeeze bottles I hate (we've gone without ketchup for about four months since the last jar of last summer's batch ran out).

Don't you think making your own ketchup is the ultimate badge of old farmwifery?

(By the way, if you decide to cook these two at the same time like I did, you should probably just measure all of the ingredients of one before moving on to the other, so you don't accidentally put the eight tablespoons of lime juice called for in one recipe into the other, which only calls four two. Just sayin')

While the ketchup simmered (and simmered, and simmered--plan for a good two to three hours to make this stuff), I reviewed the big packet of materials about the graduate program that had just arrived in the mail, and OMFG, I think I will die. What I really need is for an extra day to be added to each week. Or another two or three hours to each day. Couldn't just one teensy tiny little meteor strike the earth and slow its rotation by a couple of hours? Is that too much to ask. At any rate, this means I may have to take up coffee for the first time in my life. Or up my chocolate consumption by, er, a lot.

Definitely will be saying goodbye to all kinds of recreational activities like the twice-monthly Netflix movie, craftiness (I thought at least I might be able to have one knitting project going), ketchup and jam making, and sleep. Wish me luck!

Good News!

2011-09-27T17:45:00.000-07:00

Dear friends, I have good news to share with you: I have been accepted into a graduate program for creative writing!

The process has been a long one, filled with indecision and self-doubt (and don't think for a minute that a little thing like acceptance can banish the demons of doubt!), but now that it's really happening I am really, really excited and not a little freaked out.

This will mean, no doubt that my time spent in this space will diminish over the next couple of years, but I won't go away altogether. I can see now that it will be more important than ever to nurture moments of mindfulness and slow-down time with my family, and let's face it, I'm much more apt to do something fun and creative with my kids if I can show it off on my blog.

This is one of the BIG reasons I've been trying to clean and declutter my house and finish all those nagging little projects for the last year; I want to get my household running like a well-oiled machine so that upkeep is a snap when I will need to be spending every spare (and a few not spare) hour writing and reading.

As it turns out, though, I have a lot of work to do before January that I was not expecting. I've spent the last week since I found this out getting ready to write:

I emptied out all of my desk drawers (into a grocery bag, to be dealt with later) and tidied them, so one has office supplies, another nature journaling materials (I can't give that up), a third holds my laptop and camera, and the fourth has some reference materials.

I exchanged a package of blank Moleskine notebooks I had bought for our Colorado trip that never came to pass for ones with lined paper (I've only every used cheap composition books; I think these fancy ones will be a treat).

I bought a file box to keep my work organized. I arranged the file folders on my computer and in my memory sticks.

I've been reading and rereading The Productive Writer, plus this and this and this advice for finding/making time to amidst the demands and obligations of work and family.

And then...I started to write. Sunday afternoon, in between mega kitchen re-org (more on that next week) and cooking dinner, I plopped in the hammock with my laptop and typed. Kids ran around the yard and climbed in to visit me now and then. M wanted to know if any of my characters were modeled on him. After a couple of hours, I set it aside for the dinner/bath/story/bed rituals and then resumed writing. By 10:30 I had drafted a 15-page story. No doubt it is, in the words of Anne Lamott, a shitty first draft, but I went to bed flying high (and completely unable to sleep). I might actually be able to do this!

Book Review--Raising Elijah

2011-09-26T17:22:00.000-07:00

Please check out my review of Sandra Steingraber's newest book, Raising Elijah, over at Literary Mama.

And then read Steingraber's Orion column, "Household Tips from Warrior Mom."

And then, please do get a copy of Raising Elijah and read it too.

Steingraber is one of my favorite nonfiction authors (thanks, Mom, for handing me a copy of Living Downstream at the library 13 years ago!); she has the superhuman ability to turn biochemistry and toxicology into poetry. I think you will love her as much as I do.

Transform

2011-09-23T06:26:00.000-07:00

[So it turns out that that the autumn equinox is today at 4:05, which means we held our Welcome Fall celebration two days early. I'm so astrologically (astronomically?) out of touch. Or perhaps I'm rushing into the colder, darker seasons? Nah, can't be that. Have a lovely weekend!]

Welcoming Fall

2011-09-21T18:14:00.000-07:00

We had a simple first-day-of-fall celebration this evening.

First we hung up a new fall banner we made over the weekend, simply by painting fabric paint directly on the back side of leaves and pressing squares of muslin onto the painted leaves.

I just cut the squares with pinking shears (btw--did you know you can sharpen even very dull pinking shears by cutting aluminum foil with them? I hardly believed it myself until I tried it; it was nothing short of miraculous) and sewed them to a length of twill tape. Very simple, very easy.

E decorated our "nature windowsill" with our autumn stuff while I made dinner. The whole nature table concept got kind of pushed aside all summer, while our spring naturey items never got put away, fell off the sill repeatedly, got soaked by rain, got mushed by DVDs and remote controls and ambushed by stray socks. I finally cleaned it up and lined up some shells and driftwood and sea glass along it a couple of weeks ago (I had actually collected a lot of nice shells and rocks and things last time we went to the beach, but someone, ahem, left them all there, along with our bucket, two shoves and a net, so I had to scrounge among our existing shell collection). Z later added a tiny bird nest he found and a perfectly intact (but dead) monarch butterfly he also found (he's my finder). E basically crammed some squirrels and owls and corn dollies in with the existing stuff, but he enjoyed himself. We can tidy it up later. Maybe.

For dinner, I made a simple squash soup, served with grocery store multigrain bread.

And for dessert, this pie, which is the whole wheat apricot apple pie from Apples for Jam, only with a lot of adjustments, as I lacked half the required ingredients. It's basically a whole wheat crust with C's applesauce inside and some brandied plums that I made last summer on top. Everyone went wild about the boozy plums--first they thought they were beets (which made E cry) and then they were appalled that I served alcohol, but I'm sure 40 minutes in a 400 degree would burn off all the alcohol, don't you think?

Our nice evening went south when we discovered, at 8:00 that E and Z had homework--and two pages of it, which means one page was probably left over from last night, when I never even checked their bags. Of course lots of drama ensued, because they were overtired from staying up 20 minutes late last night and getting up waaay early this a.m. And that Z, he's something else. He will purposely put in a wrong answer if he doesn't feel like doing something--last time it was 18,000 as the answer to 6 + 2; tonight he glued all of the days of the week in the right places, but upside down and sideways, and for a picture of what he likes to do on the weekend, he drew himself shooting a gun. I definitely see myself in him, though not me as a first grader--I was a goody-goody then--but me now; when I'm made to do something I don't want to do, I dig in my heels. It's a trait that gets me into trouble sometimes, but I can't help but admire him (when he's not aggravating me); someday he'll be one to right injustices (or spend his whole life frustrated by injustice he can't write, perhaps, but let's hope not). In the meantime, they'll both spend 15 minutes dramatizing over two minute's worth of work. I think, perhaps, six is a little young for homework, don't you?

Nature Journaling: A Tool for Learning

2011-09-20T18:30:00.000-07:00

One of the reasons I started nature journaling many years ago, was to learn more about the plants and animals where I lived. Over the years I have continued to use my journal for this purpose (and for many other reasons, as well). I have gotten to know the birds in my backyard, wildflowers at a nature center, the trees in the woods around my home all by slowing down and paying attention with pen and pencil in hand.

When I go birding in the spring, my nature journal always comes with me. I walk into the woods, and listen for an unfamiliar call or song, and follow it. If I'm lucky, I catch up to the bird singing away in the treetops. I train my binoculars on it, looking for telltale markings. I then pick up my journal and pencil and sketch away, making notes about size, color, behavior and sounds. Back and forth, binocs, journal, binocs, journal, binocs, journal, until the bird flits out of sight. Only then do I pick up my field guide and search, comparing what I saw on the branch, to what is in the pages, using my notes as a guide. Back at home, after pancakes and a cup of tea, I open the field guide once more, and make a detailed drawing of the bird from its photo, so that next time I see and hear it, I'm more likely to remember what I saw. This is how I began to learn the most basic of birds--chickadee, nuthatch, goldfinch--and this is how I continue to learn ever more tricky and evasive species.

During a camping trip last spring, I encountered dozens of warblers while on a short family walk. I had my binoculars, but no journal, and made notes in my head as fast as I could see the birds--orange breast, flashing tail with yellow patches, yellow chin, black-and-white, gray and yellow. Some I knew already, like the yellow and chestnut-sided warblers, and some I never did figure out (turns out several warblers can be described as gray and yellow). When we got to the car and started driving home, I looked through the bird book and wrote down the species I saw (or thought I saw). Then, over the next several weeks, I drew birds.

Now, I may not remember all of these next time I see a specimen, but I will definitely remember that the bright orange chest belongs to the Blackburnian warbler, and that the American redstart flashes its yellow-patched tail (the female being much grayer and duller than the male).

Over the last couple of years, I've started a similar process with dragonflies. I get a good close-up look at a dragon (at first only if it stopped on a log right in front of me--but now I catch them and study them close-up), sketch what I see (if my journal is nearby), take notes about size, color, eye position, wing patterns, etc., and then hit the books.

At first (and often still), all I would figure out was that I did't get enough information, or the wrong kind--I counted the thoracic stripes, but didn't note their exact shape. But this teaches me what to look for next time, and slowly, so slowly, I am sorting out families and, when I'm very lucky, figuring out a few species as well.

It may seem like it should be easier to ID dragonflies, when you can get them into your hand, than birds, which fly around hiding behind leaves, but there are some insanely minute details that distinguish one dragon from another.

Now, not everyone is going to feel compelled to identify and name every bug and beast that flutters by. Maybe it's a writer thing, or a naturalist thing, I don't know. But I do enjoy the mystery of it all, sifting through clues, narrowing down possibilities, making informed guesses and, sometimes, hitting upon the answer. Plus, just the act of getting close-up and personal with a plant under a hand lens, or a dragonfly in hand, or a tree just beginning to bud, asking it questions, waiting patiently to learn the answer, slowing down, watching and listening, bring us closer to that bird or bug or tree, and to nature in general.

Are there other ways to cultivate this mindfulness, this slowing down and getting close to nature? Certainly--poetry, painting, meditation, lying in the hammock on a summer's day all can have a slowing, connecting and grounding effect, and I enjoy them all. But learning a new species through journaling is one of my favorite ways to get acquainted with my wild side.

Previous Nature Journaling posts: Nature Journaling: A Poetry Field Trip, Nature Journaling: Birds at the Feeder, Nature Journaling: An Invitation. See also Nature Journaling as Meditation for more on starting a nature journal.

A Ditty Bag and a Pencil Roll

2011-09-19T18:39:00.000-07:00

I found a few free minutes recently to crank out two quick projects for myself.

Project 1: The Ditty Bag

I've been needing something to carry my personal effects in when I go away overnight, something classier than a ziploc bag. I have a big toiletries bag for longer trips, but when I just head out for a night or two, it would be nice to have something to just throw my toothbrush and toothpaste into, so I made this ditty bag.

The oblong shape was dictated by the dimensions of the scrap I used for the lining. I could have just trimmed it down to a more proportionate size, but it turns out that it works great for long things, like toothbrushes. I've already used it on one weekend trip and put it in service for toting my soap and lotion to the pool in the mornings.

Project 2: The Pencil Roll

I bought myself a big set of (38) colored pencils last summer for nature journaling, and I've been carrying them around ever since (and adding to the collection), ratting around in the tin box they came in.

They needed a better home.

Then I ran across two quarter-yards of fun fabric I bought with no particular project in mind last winter, and figured it would be exactly enough fabric to make a roll to keep them all padded and safe and nicely in rainbow order.

My old pencil roll (below), which is just big enough for a small selection of pencils and pens, has a flap that folds down all the way, which I like a lot, both for keeping everything safely inside and as a place to lay things when it's open, and I was afraid the short flap wouldn't cut it, but once I sewed down the edges and the whole thing sat rolled up for a while, pressing the fabric in place, it seems to work just fine.

I'm not super thrilled with my pink and brown ribbon choice for the outside. I've been meaning to replace it with a piece that's aqua and grey, but haven't gotten around to it yet.

I have just a bit of this crazy Dr. Seuss tree fabric left, and am thinking I'll need to do something Christmassey with it. Any ideas?

September Gold

2011-09-18T18:24:00.000-07:00

September is gold.

Golden light, golden weather.

Our yard is all goldenrod and black-eyed Susans,

evening primrose, and these tiny golden asters

The vestiges of summer are being left behind

--the mornings are crisp and cool, and you go into them expecting to be chilled, but find yourself shedding layers, and spending the day outdoors, warm and completely unmolested by flies or mosquitoes.

And the harvest is coming in.

We have dozens of wild apple trees on and around our property. Some years they barely produce anything at all, and some years there is a bumper crop. This is one of those years. C and the boys have been picking them, and then roasting the apples with spices in the solar oven and milling them up into apple sauce to freeze for the winter ahead. Our house smelled like apple pie all weekend.

Other bumper crops this year: potatoes (the boys just dug them up today, and they are huge!), green beans (we heroically ate our way through two or three gallons of them before everyone dug in their heels and I froze the last gallon or so), garlic, tomatillos, poblanos! Not so good are the tomatoes, which is sad, but you can't have it all, I suppose.

The leaves are just starting to change, and I'm feeling at peace with it. Letting go a bit of my death grip on summer. Though I do want to take one last trip to the beach this year.

Z found a gold-and-black monarch caterpillar just before Labor day weekend. We put it in a jar with some milkweed and by the time we came back from camp, it had spun a gilded chrysalis. And then we waited, and waited. E and Z learned about monarchs at school, including that it only takes ten days for the caterpillar to become a butterfly, and they became quite distraught when ours hadn't emerged by day 10.

But this morning, we could see its wings through the chrysalis, and by this afternoon, a butterfly appeared.

Z released it on one of the snapdragons he planted back in May, which gave the whole experience a lovely symmetry.

We hope it can make it all the way to Mexico before the cold weather sets in.

I hope your September is golden too, and that you're finding magical transformations all around.

September Ramblings

2011-09-12T18:03:00.000-07:00

This weekend, I sat on the deck this weekend, looking up at the blue sky through the green leaves of the trees, and thought, "I'm really happy. I love life."

Now this is not a typical way of thinking for me. More often my mantra is, "I hate my life," so something magical was happening out there, with the sun and the dry, dry September air. Perhaps C is right, and September is the best month of all. I tried to stay with the feeling of abundance, just letting it soak into, to store it up for another day when I'd be needing so positive feelings.

I scored another batch of peaches a couple of weeks ago and I'm still basking in their afterglow. I can't help photographing them whenever they come into my home, like some sort of rare jewel.

I made this gorgeous peach pie with ginger-crumb topping, only because I didn't have enough butter for a top crust; and what a fortuitous lack it turned out to be. I will always make peach pie this way from now on.

And, almost as exciting as peaches, check out this poblano pepper growing in our very own garden!

Every summer, I try to coax the flavors of the Southwest out of this very Northern soil, and usually manage about five three-or four inch poblanos (one year, though, the jalapenos and serranos filled nearly a bushel).

This year, however, we have hit the motherload. I harvested twelve large chiles on Friday,

which I cooked up into chiles rellenos (my own recipe, on a card), served with simmered tomatillo-serrano sauce (Rick Bayless), Mexican pot peans (ditto) and red tomato rice (recipe here, though I used fresh tomatoes and jalapenos rather than canned, and medium-grianed brown rice; it turned out lovely in texture, but next time I'll use more jalapeno). For dessert, I made these Mexican chocolate cupcakes, which are to die for (I only used 1/2 t. cayenne in the cupcakes, because 2 sounded like a lot; I subbed real butter for the soy butter and shortening in the frosting; and I was out of vanilla, so used orange flavor instead, at about a 1:4 orange-to-vanilla ratio, which I must say was an brilliant addition).

(Disclaimer: all poblano, tomatillo and other garden growth--including our current green bean avalanche--other than garlic, is completely and totally attributable to C; my only contribution being to circle the plants I want in the seed catalog and, of course, cooking them when they're done).

In other gardening news, these two apples came from out tree. We have millions of wild apples (this appears to be a good year), but these are the first two from a tree we planted. We have yet to taste them; they make a good centerpiece (and because I know you're going to ask, since every person at my table asked, separately, without listening to the answer when other asked, the orange stuff is a tomato, though it looks like cheese, and almost had the texture of cheese. In a good way).

I finally got around to organizing a craft project that I've been meaning to do for, I don't know, five years: making parachutes. It all started because E and Z were fighting over the silk parachute one morning (despite the fact that no one has looked at, touched or played with it in the two years prior). I reminded myself that I have been wanting to make parachutes with napkins, thread and a peg clothespin with them, so I assembled the materials, and we put a couple together (which took all of two minutes, making me feel like a dope for putting it off so long).

Z got stung by a wasp ("for no reason!") right before we got started, so he wasn't very interested, but E and M had fun comparing the flight of the paper parachute with that of the silk one for a few minutes. And then they moved on to something else. Oh well. At least I won't be sitting at their high school graduations, weeping, "And we never made parachutes!"

I haven't told you yet about our new family addition. Meet Charlotte:

C and I are not really pet people, but E and Z have been dying for a pet from the time they could say the word, and so, after my third glass of sangria one knitting night, I agreed to take on a goldfish who needed a home. She came with the name Callie, and the boys considered, of course, Goldie and Fishy as options before E suddenly came up with Charlotte. They have already expressed concern with her apparent loneliness and are lobbying for a mate. It may take several more glasses of sangria before I agree to that.

Right next to her tank in the bathroom, I have finally gotten out of my own way enough to put together a project I started eight years ago. Way back in 2003, I began to collect a handful of sand at each beach we went to, with the intention of filling and labeling the somewhat vast collection of old bottles that already lines our bathroom shelf (I saw something similar in a magazine--probably Martha Stewart--only the bottles line the whole house and were from beaches in places like South Africa and Australia; my collection will most likely be limited to Maine beaches). I quit after three beaches because labeled ziplock bags of sand were quickly filling a drawer in the bathroom. All I needed was labels for the jars, but that was more than I apparently could handle back then (when I only had one kid, jeesh!)

Anyhoo, I was reminded of the project when C and I were on our little island last month, so I scooped some sand into our blueberry container and finally, bought some labels. Now we just need to go to lots more beaches. Now that's a challenge I can handle.

Hope September is leaving you feeling light and happy too.

Up t' Camp

2011-09-07T19:04:00.000-07:00

We spent Labor Day weekend, as is our tradition, at C's ex-stepmother's camp.

We had MUCH warmer weather than last year (I remember wearing jeans and a fleece all weekend last year...brr!).

At one point, E decided to go for a paddle. Our host securely hitched one end of a long coil of yellow rope to the dock, and E took off. Unfortunately, no one had checked to see if the other end was secured to the bow line.

"Come back!" We called.

"I'm going to Ten Pound Island!" E yelled back, and paddled off across the pond.

His boat drifted landward not far down the shore, and M hopped aboard and paddled him safely home.

Then the two of them headed off to Ten Pound Island all on their own, while C and Z headed out fishing in another part of the pond.

While paddling was E's theme for the weekend, fishing was Z's. He caught two largemouth bass and, apparently, a pickerel (though that one got away).

I tried to not get too hysterical about Z and E eating the mercury-laden fish, but I'm afraid I didn't do too well. At any rate, they didn't consume a whole lot. Either they felt my negative vibe, or it just didn't taste as good as they had dreamed. How can we live in a world where it's not safe for a child to eat a fish he caught himself?

M doesn't fish anymore. He used to love it, and then he gave it up, just like that.

Maybe I freaked him out about the lead in fishing line (we only use lead-free tackle, though). Or maybe it's because of the mercury in the fish (though his dad spilled the beans on that one las summer). Or maybe it was the tale of the boy who got a hook in his eyeball (though that was only to get them to wear sunglasses while fishing).

When we were there earlier this summer, he was trying to help his brother un-hook a sunfish and started crying, "It's hurting it." He can be very sensitive. I told him that my co-worker's husband, who is a fisheries biologist, says those kind of fish (bass and sunfish) have cartilaginous mouths and you can't hurt them, but it didn't stick.

I myself don't see the appeal of fishing at all (seems like an enormous pain in the keister, what with all the lost sinkers and snagged bottoms and fish you have to unhook and then what? Release? Or kill, gut, cook, eat?), but he used to love it, and it makes me sad that he has no interest at all now, not least of all because it diminishes my hopes of one day C taking all of the boys on a week-long fishing trip some day.

How did he spend his weekend? Mostly reading. Which reminds me a lot of someone I know. And now that he and I finally have something in common, I want to pull him out of himself and into the world.

And me? I swam, chased dragonflies, doodled in my journal, knitted, read.

We all visited this amazing floating bog in another, adjacent pond.

I had never been on one of these before. The ground, which is, I guess, just layers and layers of peat left over from right after the glaciers melted (geomorphologists out there, correct me if I'm wrong).

It's covered in this soft, spongy moss (grandma C told us the names of some of them, including the bright red one, but I forget), pitcher plants and cranberries.

Your feet sink in an inch or two into the warm water that saturates the moss. It was an incredible, strange place, and I could have stayed there all day, chasing dragonflies (and probably getting sucked under to turn into a Bog Woman for someone to uncover in 10,000 years).

E built a couple of fairy houses right before we left, which was super sweet. I'm not sure how many such things are left in these big boys of six. I get more and more clingy to each childish expression, as if it might be the last.

And everyone survived the dockside sparklers, with only very minor burns (I swear they're not my idea).

I made this little "sketchery" (thanks, Rachel, for the term) the evening after we got home, while C and I watched a movie (I had intended to do it while on our trip, but I though I'd forgotten the fabric...only it turned out it was only crumpled up inside a giant tangled wad of embroidery floss). I think I was trying for something like this, but didn't quite hit the mark. Z wanted me to add a pickerel, but it turned out the only space available made him sort of leaping out of the water or something (and later Z informed me that its beak isn't long enough). Anyway, it was fun to do. I'm not sure what I'll do with all these sketcheries once I amass a few. I thought perhaps of binding them in a soft book, like a stitched nature journal.

Hope you had a wonderful Labor Day. Solidarity!

Back to School

2011-09-06T18:16:00.000-07:00

I saw the boys off onto the bus for the first day of school this morning. I was not at all prepared for this school year--either physically or mentally. As mentioned here, here and here (god, am I the most boring person on Earth or what?) I never do any back-to-school shopping, and this year summer just seemed to fly by even faster than usual, and I approached the weekend (which we as usual spent away) having done nothing to prepare. So Friday I bought three new pairs of shoelaces (I knew at least one kid needed them) and brought home a stack of old binders from work (I knew one kid would need at least one of those).

We came home early-ish Monday and did what I think is probably the most important thing we could do to make the coming days go smoothly--clean the house.

Then I chopped these dreads off a certain boy's head,

cut Z's hair as well (E wanted to keep his long), gave all three baths, trimmed their nails, combed their hair for the first time in months (thus M's nappy do) and put them to bed early.

M is in fifth grad this year, which is Middle School here.

Meaning lockers, and changing classrooms, and health class and, I don't know, girls and dances next??

(Though when I told M that girls don't think boys with eye boogers are cute, he didn't seem too disturbed).

We learned today that his gifted and talented teacher resigned, and I was reminded (again) of how little I have control over.

E and Z are in first grade, which seems huge for some reason. Maybe it's because their K-1 teacher left and their starting out with a whole new teacher (she was just hired last Thursday, but so far the first day seems to have gone OK; she is reportedly more McGonagall than Snape).

Though Z complained when I picked him up that he "didn't learn anything today."

Imagine being such a vessel, just begging to be filled with knowledge.

E looked quite miserable as we raced up the driveway hand-in-hand (thinking we were late, forgetting that the bus is ALWAYS late on the first day, due to the driver learning new houses, and new kids not being outside in time, and annoying mothers holding things up to take their kids' pictures).

He looked about how I feel each morning on my march to the gallows.

Twenty minutes of dodging the camera in the rain seemed to cheer him up, though, and he marched onto the bus without a complaint or a push.

And yet one more chapter has opened as another closes.

Moment of Wonder: Beach Art

2011-09-02T08:05:00.000-07:00

Making Do

2011-09-01T14:43:00.000-07:00

C and I decided it was time for the Lego table, which had made its way to our living room for the birthday party, to find a new home. It was getting a little ridiculous, taking up all the space that might otherwise be used for, er, living (of course the Lego's never stayed confined to the actual table), and it served a huge distraction, drawing the attention of any short person every time he passed by. It definitely had to go before school started.

The day of the hurricane seemed like a perfect time for a major rearrangement. The Lego's were slated for the basement, but first some cleaning was in order. C has moved a lot of junk valuable building materials and garden tools out to the barage, freeing up a lot of space. First I swept and vacuumed 10 years of accumulated dust from under the stairs (I would regret this later that night when my bronchioles closed up), just to make the whole place a little more sanitary, then I worked on cleaning, dusting, vacuuming and de-spidering the intended play corner. As we worked, C and I got talking for our (long-term) plans for the space and, as all such conversations do, ended up with C getting grumpy and defensive because of course he's the one who would have to do all the drywalling, tiling, etc.

So, i decided to take matters into my own hands and brighten up this one gloomy color. I painted the concrete parts of the walls with the same pale yellow clay paint I had used in the pantry room. To hide the insulation-filled stud bays I had first thought of draping cloth, but then remembered all these Smoky Bear posters we had acquired during our Forest Service days. I had planned to use them down here if when we finish the room anyway.

You can tell how spontaneous my redecorating was by the fact that I didn't even take "before" photos. Suffice it to say that pale yellow is much brighter and more cheerful than dull gray concrete.

We moved all the Lego's down (the drawer is too wide to go down the stairs full, so we transferred the Lego's to a grain bag, which they fill completely, not counting the already-built structures. And yet, these kids will fight over a single piece!!)

This is also where we hide the not earthy-mama-blogger-worthy toys, like remote control Hummers and boxes of random crap that we've scooped off the bedroom floor in frustration and sequestered in the basement.

There is still a ton of clutter down here that I need to deal with (you can see some of it on the right hand side of the photo), and of course that drywall, tile, ceiling, wiring, paint, etc. would be nice. But this little corner feels just right, for now.

Purple Pizza

2011-08-31T14:27:00.000-07:00

We spent most of Hurricane Sunday indoors, cleaning, reading (I'm reading E and Z book 2 of Harry Potter, and they wanted to finish so we could watch the movie), watching movies (yes, Harry Potter #2, though we didn't finish the book first), with a few forays out into the wild, whipping wind in between downpours. We headed out into our neighbor's field as what we reverently referred to as "The Eye" passed over us and practiced launching hard green apples with the wind's help and ran up and down hills and set leaves flying. We were quite fortunate to be well away from the destructive arm of the storm, and didn't even need to fear losing power, with our solar energy stored cozily in batteries (though the next morning we learned that most around us--including our daycare--had lost theirs and still didn't have it back).

A day of such excitement requires some sort of celebratory meal...one that can be made from the dwindling stores of a refrigerator owned by those who spend the day before a storm at the beach, rather than in the grocery store stocking up on water, batteries and canned goods.

And so we have, Purple Pizza.

Sorry for the poor light, but there was a hurricane going on.

To make:

Combine:

1 c warm water

1 t honey

1 T yeast

Let sit till foamy (about 5 min.), then add:

1/2 c oatmeal (ground to a meal in blender)

1/2 c whole wheat flour

1 t salt

1 T olive oil

1 1/2 to 2 c all purpose flour

Knead till smooth and elastic. Place in oiled bowl, cover and let rise until doubled (about 1 hour).

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

Punch down dough, roll into a circle and place on pizza stone or pan (sprinkled liberally with cornmeal).

Prepare blueberry pesto:

Combine in blender or food processor:

2 c blueberries

1 c herbs (I used basil and parsley)

4 cloves garlic

1/2 c Pecorino Romano or Parmesan cheese

1/4 c olive oil

1 c toasted nuts or seeds (I used sunflower seeds)

Whir until if forms a thick paste.

Spread pesto evenly over crust.

Dollop with goat cheese.

Bake about 20 min or until cheese begins to turn golden.

Eat.

Last Dash for the Beach

2011-08-30T14:27:00.000-07:00

So, it turns out that ignoring all of the urgent back-to-school sale fliers does not prevent summer from coming to a close.

This summer seemed to go by especially fast. Perhaps it was because I spent the first half anticipating the trip that would occupy the second half, which never came.

In my usual end-of-summer dash to soak the last bit of summerness out of the season, I declared that we would go to the beach Saturday, come hell or high water, or, as it were, hurricane.

It turns out that the day before a hurricane is a great day to go to the beach, because everyone else is not there.

We had the sand to ourselves for the first half hour or so, then only a handful of families joined us.

And though it was foggy most of the day, it was warm. Turns out tropical storms bring tropical weather.

We chose to go to the small, more sheltered beach, in case Irene was pushing big swells ahead of her, so that an errant wave would not wash one of our children to Nova Scotia.

The surf was mild, but filled with all manner of interesting flotsam, including several clumps of a weird, spongy seaweed that I believe is green fleece (aka dead man's fingers). Unfortunately, I didn't take any pictures of it.

We did all the requisite beach activities: sand digging (E made sand nests in hopes of attracting his seagull friends, Seagey, Pecky, Laughy and Colorey).

Synchronized reading.

Swimming, tidepooling, drawing, collecting, eating cheese and crackers seasoned with sand. It's the kind of day you wish could last forever.

After it all, though, I headed to Portland to meet my dear friend and her nice new (to me) boyfriend for dinner at my favorite restaurant, and, after sending them off into the hurricane (they had to get back to Connecticut), I happened to be driving through Freeport just in time to catch the last showing of The Passion of the Hausfrau, which I hadn't been able to get to this time around.

No Added Pectin Jam

2011-08-26T06:02:00.000-07:00

Wouldn't you know it? Immediately after I did all that whining about no good peaches in Maine the other day, I got an email from my local farm store saying they had--guess what?--peaches! (Dare I complain about lack of apricots in hopes that a rare batch of same will appear from nowhere??) I ran right over and bought a big bag full and stayed up late making jam.

See how gorgeous it is?

I've been experimenting with no-added-pectin jam since last summer--actually, experimenting is the wrong word, since that implies study design, a hypothesis, a control batch and record-keeping, so let's say instead that I've been playing around with no-added-pectin jam and my conclusion, thus far is: (added) pectin, who needs it? My cynical mind assumes it's an industrial by-product of some kind and would otherwise be costly to dispose of, so instead it's packaged and sold as essential.

My general rule of thumb when making no-added-pectin jams is: 4 cups crushed fruit to 4 cups sugar (I use organic sugar, which works fine, despite not being white-white. I would advise against using turbinado, which renders the jam ugly brown and, apparently, the molasses has an effect on the jelling). For non-sour fruits I add also 1/4 cup lemon juice.

Sometimes I mix it all together and let it macerate for an hour or so before boiling. Sometimes I bring just the crushed fruit to a boil, then add the (pre-warmed in a pan in a low oven) sugar.

Some fruit only takes 5-10 minutes of boiling (raspberries, blackberries), some takes longer. I try to avoid the 30 to 40-minute boils recommended for other fruits, because that just seems cooked to death (also, I prefer a softer, less jelly-like, jam). The peach called for 40 minutes of boil, but between 15 and 20 it went from a beautiful golden color to the dark orange you see here (I kept the skins on, which added to the darker color as well, I believe) and started to burn to the pan. My preferred test-for-doneness method is to place a couple of saucers in the freezer, dollop a spoonful of jam onto one of them as it seems to be getting close to done, place it back in the freezer for a minute or two, then push my finger across the surface. If it wrinkles, it's done. If not, boil a few more minutes and repeat.

Some variations on the theme:

With strawberry this year, I had intended to make three batches, but discovered after I had crushed 4 cups of fruit in each of three pans, that I was short by about two cups of sugar. Instead I divided the third batch and between the first two. The down side was that every time it came to a rolling boil, it would overflow, so it never really got to temperature. I also tried straining out the fruit and just boiling the juice/sugar mixture for 20 or 25 minutes, then adding the fruit for another five or ten, to keep a fresher flavor. Still I never got up to full boil long, and ended up with a saucier jam (which I am totally fine with, but it may not be gift-worthy).

With blueberry, I used 6 cups whole berries to 3 1/2 cups sugar. The boiling time was probably about 15 or 20 minutes (woefully I don't take notes!) rather than the recommended 30. Last year my blueberry (using the 4:4 ratio) was way too stiff; this year's I think came out better.

My best and favorite jam is 4 Berry: one cup each raspberries, blackberries, blueberries and strawberries. We're having an off blackberry year (they're an every-other-year crop), so I'm not sure if I'll be able to come up with enough of them for a batch this year, but if I do, it will probably be my last batch of jam, and then I hope we'll have enough to see us through to next summer.

For years I tried to make low-sugar jams with special low-sugar pectin, but was never pleased with the results--bland flavor, mushy texture, dull color, short shelf life once opened. I was afraid I would poison my family with it. I think the 4:4 fruit:sugar ratio is slightly less sugar than some jam with added pectin recipes, but it is sugary, if that bothers you. Then again, it's only meant to be eaten in small quantities.

What are your jam secrets?

Peachy Keen

2011-08-24T05:25:00.000-07:00

Peaches aren't grown commercially in Maine, and the ones from the store are, quite frankly, just gross. (Yes, I am a peach snob, and will not eat a fruit with the texture of a styrofoam ball or the flavor of, well, a hard, unripened, not very good peach). So they are a rare fruit indeed. And to receive a real, ripe one is a gift.

I received such a gift Monday: six perfect peaches from a friend whose mother has two heavily-laden peach trees.

They were so beautiful, that we used them as a centerpiece (before they became dessert) for our dinner of summer succotash and gorgonzola cheese (for me) or local sweet Italian sausage (for everyone else). Except for the cheese, and a little bit of olive oil, it was a completely local meal (all from farmer's markets or a local farm store).

This is the first summer in years that I didn't institute the "Maine-only" food regime, mainly because I had planned (hoped) to spend most of the summer not in Maine. But, we've gotten so into the habit of buying from local farms and farmer's markets, that we have an almost all-Maine diet by default (I will admit to buying a lot more cherries, grapes, ice cream and packaged snacks this summer, though).

Food just tastes better when it comes from down the road (or your own backyard). Especially peaches.

2011-08-23T05:56:00.000-07:00

For my birthday, Saturday, we traded our kids for these:

Two kayaks and the open ocean.

This little rock became our home for the night.

It was not glamping, by any stretch of the imagination (I even forgot my camping bunting). We ate cup-o-soup

and oatmeal

and scrunched into our old two-man tent (and good thing, too, as the one flat spot of sand was just barely big enough for our footprint).

It was a short enough paddle, so we had the whole afternoon to just relax and explore. Do you know how rare it is to have hours and hours with nothing to do? I bet you do. We visited the neighboring island, circumambulated our own, swam, napped. I drew and wrote in my nature journal, and, because I adore Melissa's little nature-inspired embroideries over at Tiny Happy, I free-handed a little picture of our island:

And now I'll be sure to take embroidery supplies every time I go camping. And I won't forgo certain natural colors (I'd only taken blues, grays, greens and browns, due to my preconceived vision of what I would see).

On Sunday, we took our own sweet time packing up, then paddled out to visit some other islands before letting the wind and the waves drift us back toward home.

Dome Days

2011-08-18T06:01:00.000-07:00

E's was still croupy/coughy Monday morning, so I decided that rather than send him to daycare to play outside in the rain and contract pneumonia, we'd all stay home and have a dome day, which turned into two, because he was still sick and it was still raining Tuesday.

It felt like a snow day, with the gray sky outside, and us dressed in sweatshirts inside. On Monday, I served popcorn and grapes for lunch and even contemplated baking cookies (I have baked nothing at all in ages), which seems like a snow-day kind of thing to do.

The boys mostly just played Lego's for both days straight. I didn't take any pictures of their Lego creations, but they did:

E's house.

Table O' Lego's

Z's Spaceship

I got out a bunch of wooden toys at one point, to encourage them to play with something else (I do feel sad at the prospect they might be outgrowing the wooden toys). E built this cool fort, guarded by dinosaurs and gnomes:

"Mom forced me to be all Waldorfy this morning"

And he and I did a little art project--paint over crayon to be scratched away later (do you remember making those in elementary school? I had much more fun than he did).

I always feel like I miss out on so much not being with my kids most days, but as it turns out, they pretty much do their own thing most of the time...and I do mine. While they did Lego's, I dabbled with a little reading, some very minor crafting, catching up on blogs, and a whole lot of vegging, which I think we were all in great need of. I did read the last two chapters of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone to them, and then, because we still had all the movies we borrowed, we watched it Tuesday afternoon. Funny how you expose your second (and third) kids to things at a much younger age than the first, isn't it? They weren't too scared (the daylight helped I think), but the plot is a bit confusing for six-year-olds, even after having read the book.

On Tuesday, I also made jam with some of the 40 pounds of blueberries I picked up Monday night.

6 c. blueberries; 3 1/2 c. sugar; 1/4 c. lemon juice; boil 10-15 min

I bribed E seventy-five cents to write the labels for me.

I wonder if that's how all the crafty mom-bloggers do it? They pay their kids to look cute, helping to stir cake batter and pick cucumbers and make artwork? I do think I'm onto something.

2 batches = 10 cups jam

A Summer Blouse

2011-08-17T08:20:00.000-07:00

This was on my to-do list last summer, and I did in fact start it last year, but I think I was so defeated by all the cutting out (and, if I remember correctly, running out of fabric and running back to the store--all the way in Waterville--for more, that I just gave up before getting very far.

It's sat in my WIP basket ever since, until a couple of weeks ago, when I got it out and put it on my sewing table as a hint to myself. Finally this weekend I sat down and finished it.

It's Burda pattern #7834, and while it's not necessarily a difficult pattern, it is fussy. First, there are about a million pieces you must cut, then there's lots of neatening and basting and pressing and topstitching (I don't even know what "neaten" means, as you can see from the photo below) and even a zipper.

But, once I put my mind to it, it went fairly smoothly and quickly (two quick sewing sessions Sat. and Sun. a.m. and it was done).

It fits well (thank goodness), though it's a bit low-cut for my taste, which means I'll have to wear a tank top under it, and I hate summer blouses that force you to layer--isn't the point to stay cool?

Also, I wonder if I'm a bit old for the print blouse look?

In any case, it's a relief to get something out of the works-in-progress queue (and cross it off last summer's to-do list--at this rate I'll have gotten all my Summer 2010 desires taken care of by 2020).