The Barefoot Kitchen Witch

The Real and the Make Believe

Get comfortable, I’ve got a lot to say today….

Make Your Own

We had salad for dinner last night. 

All four of us.

Salad and some leftover rice Bill had made the other night.

That’s all.

And everybody loved the meal.

I feel like I need to say “even the kids,” except that I don’t have that problem, for the most part.  My kids like their vegetables.  Most of their vegetables, anyway.  Enough so that if they dislike one or two, I don’t worry about it.

I know.  I’m lucky.

Lists

This picture has nothing, really, to do with this post.  In fact, I’ll probably put other un-related-to-this-post pictures in as I go, just because I like them and haven’t used them but want to.

The post is, instead, about all the things that I’m trying to tie together.

Sort of in the spirit of New Year’s resolutions, Spring Cleaning, and any other organizational reference you can think of.

End of the Year Thoughts

Because, of course, this is a time for looking back and for looking forward.

I’m often better at looking back…and beating myself up for things I didn’t do, or didn’t do enough.  I’m really good at that.  And then I look forward and I do one of two things.

Either I give myself too many things to do in the coming year – not just resolutions, but projects, plans, lifestyle changes and challenges – and then I freeze because the list is so overwhelming – or I just curl up and worry that the coming year I’ll be a bigger and better loser than the last one, and while, yes, it’s important to try to improve on things, I don’t think improving loserhood is something to strive for.

That said…

The Voice on the Radio

We were driving early.  Very early.  Before a hint of sunrise.  The car zoomed along through the surrounding blackness, highway lights giving the journey a holiday effect.  Like we were tiny beings traversing the branches of a night-lit Christmas tree.

The kids were in the back seat, bundled up and snuggled with their stuffed animals (only two, guys, it's just a short trip) against the shoulder harness portion of their seat belts.

We don't have a dvd player in the car.  The kids don't have handheld DS things.  There is no electronic entertainment for them. There are, instead, signs.  Highway signs.  Business signs.  Lettering on tractor trailer trucks whizzing by.  Entertainment involves participation. 

When we left the house, in that pre-pre-pre-dawn pitch blackness, Alex shouted out "I found an A!" 

An hour later "I see a B!"

In between those letters, there was quiet.  The kids silent, still half asleep, the half-awake state due only to bubbling anticipation.  They slouched.  And stared out the window at bright highway lights and office buildings that leave lights on 24/7. 

Well, there was mostly quiet.  There was also the bumping of our Subaru wagon over typical Rhode Island roads scarred with filled pot holes. 

And there was the voice on the radio.  We were tuned to WGBH out of Boston.  We were listening to the news, which was read in the steady, informed, measured cadence of that radio newsman.  It was a voice I found soothing.  Comforting.  Not that particular voice, but that style of voice. 

I remember when I was very young, younger than Julia is now, on similar dark-of-night car rides.  We would drive to New Jersey to visit my mother's parents for Christmas sometimes.  There were probably other seasons we visited as well, but Christmas stands out.

Maybe that's because of the darkness.  The stillness at that oh so early hour.  A time when everyone else on the entire planet had to be asleep. 

I remember looking up at the clear, starlit sky as I walked (or was carried, perhaps, still sleepy but bubbling with excitement at the same time) out to the warmed-up, wood-paneled station wagon.

This was back before seatbelt laws.  My parents would fold the back seat down and put a mattress over the whole back part of the car.  They'd give a tranquilizer - a small, light blue pill as I remember - to Bonnie, our Standard Poodle, a feisty, energetic animal who would have trampled us small children during the ride if we didn't drug her - and she would curl up in a corner toward the back of the car.

My sister and I would lie on the mattress, snuggled in blankets and pillows and stuffed animals, and doze...or stare at the little dots on the ceiling.  I think it was some sort of vinyl upholstery - I don't really know.  But there were tiny dots, and I learned that if I blurred my vision just the right way, I could make the dots seem closer to me, or I could sort of make sections of them move. 

Neither of us, my sister and I, were great travelers at that age.  My sister, especially, would get car sick.  Most journeys to and from New Jersey were punctuated by vomit and paper towels.  We laugh about it now.  The stench has long since faded from our minds.  Mine, anyway.

When one of us was not throwing up, we probably mostly just dozed.

And listened.

The radio was usually tuned to a news station.  I don't know, but I have a feeling most of the few AM stations we could get in that car were news stations.  I don't remember music, really. 

I just remember the voice.  Always male.  He spoke of weather and traffic and sports, perhaps.  And of strange people like Dow Jones, whoever that was.  And no matter what the topic, the voice pretty much stayed the same.  Steady.  Informed.  Measured. 

Comforting.  I would close my eyes and that soothing voice would talk of things that didn't matter at all to me.  I would doze off to that almost monotonous (but not in a bad way) voice as it told stories to my parents, then awaken to the same highway shake of the car, the same dots on the ceiling, the same voice on the radio.

And it didn't matter what station was playing, or where the news was coming from - Boston or New York or Providence...it was the same voice.

On that recent early-morning ride, I was the parent, and the radio voice was telling his stories to me and my husband. We have no dots on our car ceiling.  Our children sat mostly upright and buckled in.  So some things change, of course.  But I still found that steady, informed, measured voice soothing and comforting. 

Maybe that's one of the reasons I have no plans to equip our car (or a future vehicle) with a dvd player, or to give my kids little hand-held games to keep them entertained.

I want them to have memories of the car ride, of alphabet games and stuffed animals and of dozing for a while, snuggled against their seat belts, listening to the voice on the radio.

 

 

O Christmas Tree

Next life, I want to come back as a pampered, much-loved, well-fed neutered male cat.  (I included the neutered part in there because he has no stress, no strong passions that drive him crazy, no need to pee on walls.  I don’t want to come back as an ANNOYING pampered, much-loved, well-fed male cat, after all.  And why male?  Because males generally get to lounge around like this (see above) while females, even pampered, much-loved, well-fed, INDOOR females, are nearly always on alert, ready to hunt or pounce.  I just want to lounge around next time out. 

I know – but what about the “O Christmas Tree” post title?  What’s that got to do with the cats?

Camera Issues

There’s some annoying issue going on with my camera.  At first I thought it was a battery issue, but it’s still continuing.  So now I’m thinking it’s some other issue, and since I am not a camera repair pro, I think I need to have a professional look at it.

Bowling

I get tunnel vision sometimes. 

I get so focused on what needs to get done, what I think I should be focusing on, what I NEED to focus on so that (insert Very Important Reason here) will get done/taken care of/finished/baked/cooked/cleaned.

I tell myself that it’s for the greater good.

The Rest of Thanksgiving

I have to say, food-wise this was probably my most successful Thanksgiving meal to date.  I know, that sounds like bragging, but I’m really not.  I’m kind of delighted and amazed. 

Above – our appetizers.  Way in the back, in the crystal dish, we’ve got Ants On a Log.  Alex spread the peanut butter and Joe’s fiancé, Sage, added the raisins.  Then, on the little green plate, kind of blurred, are the sausages and mustard.  More on them in a bit.  Then we’ve got little squares of a version of kale pie that were – I’m bragging now – fabulous.  And then there’s some cream cheese with hot pepper jelly on top…crackers, and mixed dry-roasted nuts.

Thankfulness

I am thankful for the new experience of brining our turkey.  We don’t usually have problems with overly dry breast meat anyway, but we thought it would be cool to brine anyway.  Here is the turkey, pellicle developed, ready to go. 

Just a Thought

In my opinion, Bell’s Poultry Seasoning and Yankee Candle need to hook up.  Remember those old “you got your chocolate in my peanut butter/you got peanut butter on my chocolate” commercials?

Well, Bells needs to get their poultry seasoning in a candle.

I’d buy a case….

~~~

I’m doing a bunch of Thanksgiving-related stuff today, so not writing a post, as such.  I’ll probably post periodically on Facebook, so if you’re interested in any of the craziness going on today, you can follow along there.

What are you up to today?

He Doesn’t Talk About the War Much

My dad enlisted in the navy during WWII before he was old enough to be drafted and placed where he didn’t want to be. 

I’ve seen pictures of him in those days – so young.  A skinny, smiling, dark-haired boy, either shirtless, cigarette dangling, relaxing with shipmates, or so handsome in his dress whites that my eyes prickle with tears right now, just thinking about it.

He was a boy.

Nearly all of them were.

Ten years older than Alex is now.  Not even that.

So young.

Random Stuff

Up until today, I still felt the residual effects from being sick and hardly eating most of last week.  Foggy headed and suspicious of many foods that I’d ordinarily like.  That was me.  Unable to multitask without becoming grumpy and stressed.  Such a joy to be around.

Today, my head is clear.  I feel like I actually have a working brain in there instead of polyster fiberfil.  It’s a nice change.

~~~

Not How I Had Planned to Begin this Month

I think I have the flu.

I say I “think” because I don’t remember having the flu before, though I probably did at some point.  But I looked up my symptoms this morning after confirming that yes, all that aching and the marrow-deep chills and headache and nausea and tremendous fatigue, plus the fever.  It looks like flu.

Lovely.

A Day For Sewing Projects

We’re supposed to get snow tonight, though perhaps not much in this part of the state.  We often tend to be on the line where the snow and rain meet.  The ice and sleet line. 

It’s already pretty cold out, and the sky has that pale gray, thinly clouded look to it that says “yes, something’s coming.”

We’re supposed to get rain first, later this morning, and then the snow tonight as the temperatures drop further.

So…I am here in my work area in the basement.  I’ve got laundry in the wash, and I’ll work my way through all the week’s dirty clothes while I do more fun things like practice making little zippered pouches or drawstring bags and finish Julia’s Halloween costume.

Oh, and I’ve also decided it’s a perfect day for a Harry Potter movie marathon.  Sorcerer’s Stone is playing now. 

Anyway, that’s what I’ll be up to today, for the most part.

How about you?

Legume Love

Sorry, no picture.

I made a batch of baked beans again yesterday.  I’ve decided that when I have a day off mid-week, that’s what I’m going to make.  Not just because they’re yummy, but because we’re trying to keep our heating costs down this winter, and if I’m running the oven for 6 hours to cook the beans, not only will that throw off a little warmth, it’ll also make the house smell fabulous.

Productivity and Grocery Insecurity

That about sums up yesterday.

Besides the usual morning stuff – coffee, breakfast, making lunches for people, getting everyone out the door to work or school on time, doing most of the laundry, and ironing all of Bill’s clothes – I clipped coupons, perused flyers, planned my attack, and headed off to the stores.

Permission to Play

I had a few folders on my desktop.  Images of various things I made recently – mostly canning projects. 

I looked through the folders right now and, frankly, the pictures are horrible.  Mostly horrible.  Nothing worth posting.  In some cases, not even a complete series of process pictures…or no pictures at all of the final product.

So I dumped them.  I’ve got one good set, and I’ll write up that post another day this week.

Today?  Not in the mood too write about food.

A Bit Tired of Lemondade

You know, that saying “when life hands you lemons, make lemonade”…well, I’m kind of tired of the lemonade.  And the marmalade.  And the lemon curd.  And everything else these annoying lemons bring.

Last night I came home and was getting ready to reheat some pasta that Bill had cooked earlier.

I didn’t want sauce, I just really wanted butter and grated cheese.  Sometimes, super simple is best.

So I reached for a stick of butter…and it was soft.  Inside the fridge.  Now, I know the door is somewhat “warmer” than the rest of the fridge, but it’s still normally cold enough to keep sticks of butter firm.

Lovely.

I stuck my hand into the middle of the main part of the fridge and just felt the air.

It didn’t feel all that cold, come to think of it.

Oh crap. 

(Please excuse the language.)

Red Skies in the Land of Crazy

There is a predictability to the ride, especially after all these years.  Clear patterns.  Same old things but wearing different clothes.  Here we go, yet again.

We could phone it in, but we don’t.  We still invest emotion.  One still hopes, or wants to.  Others of us remember what hope looked like, but it’s buried somewhere in a box of empty bottles, and really, it just seems futile to look for it at this point. 

I know, that’s an awful thing to say.  Giving up hope.  Losing faith.  You’re not supposed to do that. 

So okay, I can hope, maybe, but I don’t have a whole lot of faith in hope.  Hope isn’t an action.  Hope isn’t a behavior.  Hope, sometimes, lets you sit back and wait for change.  But you can’t just sit there. 

Maybe hope holds the door open. 

You still have to get up and walk through it.

Does that make sense?

Doesn’t matter.  I’ve come to the conclusion that a lot of things don’t make sense, and maybe the best plan is to stop looking for the sense and just accept the crazy.

~~~

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Hope’s not in there.  Acceptance and courage.  Those are more effective.

Wisdom is still elusive.

~~~

Conversations are like rollercoaster rides and you’re a person who really doesn’t like rollercoasters. 

You just want the ride to stop so you can get off.

~~~

There’s a wonderful sentence in a book I read.  Winter House, by Carol O’Connell.  It’s a work of fiction, yes, but there is a lot of truth in fiction.

“Crazy people make sane people crazy.”

That’s how it feels sometimes.

When you have conversations where you’re trying (again.  and again.) to point out The Problem.  The Issue.  The Pink Elephant Who Used To Be In The Living Room But Has Now Made Herself Quite At Home In All The Other Rooms, Too.  The Addiction.  And you point out specifics that have to do with It.  Problems, health issues, fall-out…all related to It.

And you get a response like this:

“I guess you think I’ve been a bad (insert relationship here).”

“No, that’s not what I said.”

“Obviously you think I haven’t done a good job as your (insert relationship here).”

All this is designed to a) change the subject, b) distract you from your original point, and c) evoke sympathy.  Or guilt. 

“Oh, no, no, please don’t say that, you’ve been a wonderful (insert relationship here).  If you weren’t, would we be this concerned?”

Success.  Conversation hijacked. 

Wait, what were we talking about?

~~~

That doesn’t happen now, though.  We’ve caught on.  We don’t fall for it.

But for a while, it felt like we were saying one thing and somehow it got twisted in translation.  Or so we thought.  And we’d squint and think and wonder…did I say that?  Did I fall asleep and miss part of the conversation?  Nope.  That’s just the crazy-making.

~~~

Denial.  It lives long and prospers.  And, given enough time, it builds a cocoon and bursts forth as Alternate Reality.  A place where the people who care are the ones in denial.  The ones who aren’t facing facts.  The ones who don’t want anyone to have fun. 

~~~

“Are you (insert undesirable behavior here)?”

“(Telltale pause) …no.”

Oh, yeah, specificity counts.

“Have you BEEN (insert undesirable behavior here) within the past twenty-four hours?”

“Well, yes, but it was only (insert one form of undesirable behavior here, which, when you boil it all down, isn’t any different from any other form of said undesirable behavior).”

“It doesn’t MATTER!  You shouldn’t be doing it AT ALL.”

“My doctor said I’m in great health.  My heart, my lungs, my blood pressure, my ability to create my own reality…  We had a very good conversation at my appointment last week.  He really listens.”  (Of course, so does the dog.  Really.  So, ipso facto, abracadabra, the dog cares more than we do.)

So from this, we are led to believe that the doctor understands and condones this undesirable behavior.  And that any concern we express means that we don’t understand AND we don’t listen.  We don’t have medical degrees, either, so our listening is only a layperson’s listening, not a that of a trained professional.  (The dog’s diploma must be hanging on the wall somewhere.  Probably behind the liquor cabinet.)

~~~

“The sky is blue.  Again.  It’s blue.  We tell you this because we love you.  Why can’t you see what is so clear to everyone else?”

“No, dears, it’s red.  My doctor and the dog agree with me.  If you don’t agree, you must not love me.  The sky is red.”

And so goes the battle.

Ten Years Ago

It’s been a pretty regular day today.  I made an experimental batch of cinnamon rolls with mushed up peaches in the filling (yum, in case you ever want to try that yourself)…Julia went to a birthday party…our niece, Lisa, is up visiting from Florida and we got to spend some time with her.  A good day.  Relaxing.

The sky is a brilliant blue today.

I kept feeling, this past week, that I should write something to…what word to use?  Commemorate?  Acknowledge?  Remember?  To give a nod, bow my head, to this date, September Eleventh, and the horrible events of ten years ago.

Only I didn’t know what to say. 

Another First Day of School

School was supposed to start last week, but Hurricane Irene gave Bill and the kids an extra week of summer vacation.

Last Tuesday I had the kids doing all sorts of day-before-the-first-day-back-at-school things:  cleaning their rooms, stripping and remaking their beds (okay, I did the remaking), cleaning out their backpacks and restocking them, choosing their clothes for the next day…lots and lots of work. 

And then, at some point early in the afternoon, I learned that the first day of school wasn’t going to be tomorrow.  It might be Friday, but they weren’t sure.

So I told the kids, and they immediately dropped everything and tried to go off to play, but I stopped that nonsense and told them they still had to finish.

“Why?  We don’t even have school tomorrow!”

I don’t care.  You need to clean up this big mess that you made while you were cleaning.  Just do it now, and then it’ll be DONE.

Grumblingly, they trudged back to the dining room and finished my cruel and torturous chores.

Some days, motherhood is so much fun!

Hunkering Down

The post title is solely for my sister, with whom I had this IM conversation this morning (we were each watching the news on Irene in our respective homes):

Her:  did you hear that doom and gloom Today show music?  geeeeez

Me:  noooooo.  didn't hear it, or i just wasn't paying attention

Her:  good god.
that was enough to scare anybody

Me:  they are all talking like they're at a funeral

Her:  i know..
i hate the term "hunker down"

Me:  hahahahahaha
i actually like it.

Her:  figures
hunker?

Me:  makes me think of not having to go anywhere and being snug with plenty of food and something good to read.

Her:  what does it mean?

Me:  i don't know.
i think it means "don't go anywhere and be snug with plenty of food and something good to read."
along the lines of "batten down the hatches"

Her:
hunk·erVerb/ˈhəNGkər/
    1. Squat or crouch down low: "he hunkered down beside her".
    2. Take shelter in a defensive position: "hunker down and let it blow over".

Me:
well there you go.

Her:
but can you use the word "hunker" alone?  or does it have to be with "down"

Me:
i don't know.
you should give it a try today and see if people look at you funny.

Her:
what if I hunker up?

Me:
hahahaha
brb, i have to cook bill some eggs

Her:
ok

Me:
i'm back.  just before i went upstairs, some reporter said "everyone is hunkering down" and i burst out laughing and everyone just looked at me.

Her:
hahaha i heard that
not you, him

Me:
hahaha

~~~~~~~

Well, in terms of hunkering down, yesterday we picked up the yard and put potential flying missiles in the garage.  We also picked a ton of tomatoes – red and green – because we don’t want them getting smashed by the heavy wind and rain tomorrow.

Then we did a bunch of cooking.

I prepped tomatoes and onions for a relish I’ll be canning later today.

So pretty!  And we grew EVERYTHING in that bowl.  Tomatoes (red, green, and white), and onions (white and red/purple). 

I salted all of that, covered it with plastic and put it aside to sit overnight.

Bill worked on a HUGE batch of veggie burgers.  We picked up some zucchini and yellow squash at the farmers’ market in the morning; enough for 7 batches, which will give us about 35-40 burgers to pack away.

 

After sauteeing everything, Bill added in some shredded cheese, eggs, and oatmeal.  The whole mess is in a huge bowl in the fridge.  Today he’ll shape it into patties and cook them all.  Then we’ll freeze them, and we’ll have a whole bunch of future meals ready to go.

I love the fact that my kids LOVE veggie burgers – especially the ones Bill makes. 

Another cool thing is that this summer their tolerance for heat has increased.

We love hot and spicy food, Bill and I.  Julia likes to occasionally show how tough she is by eating something we’re eating, but only when she’s sort of competing with Alex.  (Never mind sports, we compete with chili peppers here.)

But a few weeks ago Bill made a red Thai curry and both kids LOVED it.  We’ve been making fresh salsa with the tomatoes, onions, and jalapenos from the garden, and both kids love that, too. 

This is AWESOME.

Yesterday Bill picked some ripe tomatillos, and I made a fabulous salsa with them.

And – again – both kids LOVED it.

Oh, and we also got two huge, beautiful eggplants at the farmers’ market:

The one on the left weighed over two pounds.

I made a double batch of eggplant parmesan with them and a vat of tomato sauce I’d simmered for most of the day.  The kids loved that, too.

~~~~~

I’ve come to the conclusion that our kids can pretty much do whatever they want in life – teach, play instruments, become professional athletes, rob banks, run for office – anything, and as long as they continue to be adventurous about eating, we’ll always be proud of them.

~~~~~

And that’s where we are at this moment. 

The calm before the storm, in whatever form Irene takes by the time she arrives.

OH – one more thing.  Yesterday I invented a term:

Hurricaniacs:  The people who go crazy buying up all the water, bread and milk and batteries in preparation for a hurricane, leaving nothing behind for people who have actually and legitimately run out of something.

Gotta go now.  I want to finish the laundry, just in case we lose power for more than a day.

Are you in Irene’s path?  How have you fared (if you’ve already been hit), and how are you hunkering down, if you’re still, like me, waiting.

I Feel The Earth Move Under My Seat

Yesterday at 1:51 Bill and I were sitting on the back deck.  We’d just had lunch, and we were hanging out, enjoying the gorgeous weather and the peace and quiet (the kids were inside and getting along for the moment).

It was very breezy, and at first that’s what my brain tried to use for an explanation.  The deck was shaking.  So it must be…the wind?  I know.  Square peg in a round hole.  I really wanted it to fit, because there wasn’t any other logical explanation for the feeling of movement.  I wasn’t in a car or a boat or a plane.  My chair wasn’t supposed to be shaking.

Perseverance

I love spider webs. 

When I was a kid, I remember huge webs in our vegetable gardens, the painstaking labor of the big black and yellow garden spiders inevitably resting in the very center of their work.

I didn’t get too close – I wasn’t all that fond of the actual spider…especially all those legs – but I admired their art from a safe and respectful distance.

False Starts

You know how you’ve got twenty five things to do, and twenty five more things you just WANT to do, and you want to do whatever will be, somehow, the most productive, most efficient, most rewarding use of your limited time, and then you stand there, all the “need to do” and “want to do” and “should I do?” things swirling in your brain, fighting each other for the front of the line, and then you look at the clock and realize you don’t have any more time and you haven’t accomplished anything and now you’ve got twice as much to do tomorrow, and it’s all your own damn indecisive, insecure, muddle-headed fault?

(I’d elaborate, but I have to go do the laundry.  Or maybe dishes.  Or reorganize the pantry.  Or pick tomatoes.  Or clean the litterbox.  Or write a shopping list for the bread and butter pickles I’m making and canning tomorrow.  Or write a post.  Or write four posts.  Or make something for one of my neglected Etsy stores.  Or read a chapter in a book.  Or organize coupons.  Or take a nap.  Or a shower.  Or both.  Or….)

Notes From Yesterday and Today So Far

Okra! 

We’ve never grown it before, so I had no idea what to look for in terms of the actual ripening fruit.  But here’s what it looks like.  Pretty interesting, no?

Water, Water Everywhere

Friday night was a long-anticipated date night with my husband.

I can’t remember the last time we went out – just the two of us.  Really can’t.  The thing is, our kids are pretty well-behaved in restaurants, so it’s not like we want to get away from them or anything.

I guess over the years we’ve just gotten used to bringing them along.  And like, I suspect, many parents out there, we let the smaller “us” – the couple part of this family – fall by the wayside to an extent.

So Friday was the first step back to couple-hood. 

Giants Bowling in the Sky

Within minutes after I took this picture this afternoon, a HUGE crack of thunder interrupted the quiet bringing-in of the groceries for a moment.

Julia raced into the house, a fearful look on her face.

“I’m scared!” she announced.

When Did My Forehead Get So Big? It’s Almost as Wide as My Hips!

We went clothes shopping today.

Bill and Alex.

Julia and me.

We’ve got a wedding coming up in the family.

Both kids are in the wedding (hee hee hee!!!!) and Bill will be playing guitar.

Fortunately for everyone, especially the photographers, who might not have brought wide enough lenses, I am not part of the ceremony at all.  I’m hoping there’ll be a wide palm tree or something I can hide behind whenever there are cameras lurking.

Did you catch that?

Crashing on the Sand

Sometimes when I’m driving around I’ll write parts of posts in my head.  Or I’ll have conversations with various people, either as a rehearsal or as a “if only I’d said it THIS way” rewind kind of thing.  Sometimes I have conversations with myself.  Sometimes the conversations I think I’m having in my head with other people are, really, just more conversations with myself.  Because, after all, the words coming from the “other” people in my head are really just me with a different voice.

Sometimes I wish they’d all – me included – shut up.

So there’s that.

Can’t Even Think of a Post Title

*Warning:  This post may roam from topic to topic with no regard for wrapping one up before drifting to the next.  Do not expect closure or conclusions.  Or logic.  Or dessert.

Ooh, look!  A bunny!

Coloring

Please bear with me while I mess around with the look of this blog.  Colors, layout, content…I’m in a spring cleaning mood.  Again.  Or still.

It’s sort of like my hair.  My hair is mostly all long (and straight), but periodically I’ll start asking my sister “should I have bangs again?” and after rolling her eyes ALL the way back in her head several times and trying to ignore me, she might, if I’m annoying enough, cut me some bangs.

And then I’ll love the look; I’ll think I look youthful and cute or something like that, when, in fact, I probably don’t look any such thing, ever.  And then my bangs will start to grow out, and the minute I can see a single hair of them dipping into my field of vision, I start to get headaches on a regular basis (it’s my eyes – they keep adjusting the focus from bangs to book to bangs to computer screen to bangs to tv to bangs to child’s face, and so on.  Drives me KUH-RAY-ZEE.)  And so I’ll grow them out.  Which, as anyone who’s ever grown hair out before, is a torturous process filled with doubt and second-guessing and angst and barrettes and hair clips and head bands and sometimes even HATS!  I know.  It’s ugly.  I shudder just typing this.

I’m in a bangs-growing-out phase at the moment.  They’re about half an inch past my nose, which is good because if I am standing up straight and there’s no wind blowing, I can push the bangs behind my ears and they’ll stay there.  Of course, standing still and avoiding air movement is rather limiting, so I either put up with them flailing across my face or I pin them back with a few well-placed hair clips, or I wear a baseball cap.  (Boston.  Of course.  It’s the only kind of hat I like to wear.  And I don’t really like hats.) 

And none of this really has a lot to do with the look of my blog, except that I’m in that annoying, undecided, should-I-get-bangs-cut-on-my-blog? mental state, and so I’m playing around with the colors and layout and whatever else I can mess with, happy in the knowledge that no matter what I do, I can always change it back a lot faster than it takes to grow my bangs out.

And I won’t need hair clips or a hat.

Back tomorrow with a food post. 

I know.  It’s about time.

Born Again Crazy

I don’t like grocery shopping any more. 

I used to.

I used to love looking at ALL the choices.  So many. 

So much colorful produce.

So many cuts of meat.

So much seafood.

So many different kinds of…everything.

But now I eye this all with suspicion.

When the Rose Colored Glasses Broke

When my sister fell on her bike while riding over the train tracks at the other end of our street, our friend Dolores thought she was being kidnapped.

I guess Mere, my sister, must have screamed or yelled or something from just out of view, down in the dip of the road where the trains used to run, back before the town removed the tracks and made a bike path. 

Burger, Patty, Cake

I bought some Gardenburger brand veggie burgers one night recently.  I was tired and didn’t want to cook, but we were all hungry, and we were all sick of meat.  Or something like that.

Anyway, I brought the veggie burgers home, cooked them up, and we pretty much devoured them. 

And then Bill and I started thinking and talking about them, and about how easy it would be to make our own, and why don’t we?  Why haven’t we been doing that?  What’s wrong with us??

Four Days Late and a Banner Short

You know, I really wish these months would give you a warning before they start.  March has been here for four days now – when did that happen?? 

This Always Happens

Well, some of it.

We’ve got a wedding to go to early this summer, and besides being very excited about it (for lots of reasons, which I’ll share at some point), I realize I’ve got a definite deadline and my work cut out for me.

See, it’s a destination wedding.  On an island.  Sandy beaches, gorgeous water, palm trees. 

The sort of place where people stroll or lounge about in two-piece bathing suits (or at least the women do – the men would probably look a little weird if they did), and work – at a leisurely pace – on their tans.

The sort of place I rarely frequent.

It’s Spring Because I Say So

Yes, I know, there’s still snow out there. 

I see it.

It’s crusty and crunchy and completely useless if you’re looking to have fun with it.

It’s just…there.

But not for much longer.

Hey, Guess What, it’s Snowing.

Random notes of the morning…

~~~

Yes, it’s snowing.  Again. 

Oh, Hello Again, Internet Access!

Earlier this morning, for whatever reason, we couldn’t connect to the internet. 

PANIC ENSUES!!!

RUNNING AROUND WITH HANDS WAVING IN THE AIR!!!

Making the Old New Again

I read an article on Etsy this morning called “Make Something Every Day.”  You should read it.  Go ahead.  I’m still typing anyway.  (ha ha.  a bit of blogging humor.  A very little bit.)

Anyway, the article, which features Noah Scalin’s book 365:  A Daily Creativity Journal, got me thinking.

At first I thought “Drat, I can’t particpate!  I’m already a week behind!”

Then I thought “What’s a week?  Okay…then what could I do…day by day…I HAVE NO IDEA!  I LACK CREATIVITY!  MY SPARK IS OUT!”

And then I tilted my head and looked at this from a different angle.

The Work Thing

So yes, I’m working.  Part time. 

And no, I’m not really going to be writing about it in any specific sort of way.

Much.

Resolved: I Will Make No Resolutions

Just like a lot of people, I’ve made New Year’s resolutions. 

I will do this, I will not do that.  I will eat healthy food, I will exercise every day, I will balance my checkbook, I will meditate, I will post to my blog every day.

1 January 2011

Just random notes, as I wander through this day….

~~~

I decided, spur of the moment, to take down all the Christmas decorations today. 

To be honest, I’ve had enough of the holidays this (past) year.  I try to feel all the joy and love and wonder and awe and excitement and everything, but this (past) year, it was hard to sustain.  Fortunately, the kids had enough sweet and pure delight for all of us to share.

I am most thankful that they are.  Yes, they are my children, but they are individuals, not just appendages of the family unit.  I am blessed and honored to be a part of their lives, and so lucky to get to watch them grow and learn and become whoever they are destined to be.  I am lucky and grateful for every unsolicited hug and kiss and smile – and even for the ones I demand, because they are generous with affection, these two little people.  On days (weeks, months) when I feel I do nothing good, nothing useful, nothing of any significance, I can look at these two and think, “well, maybe I’ve done something right…”

~~~

Most of the Christmas things are packed away.  Now I need to haul the tree outside and then clean up all the needles it leaves behind.

Our tree this year did pretty well, needle-dropping-wise.  I think Bill bought a Noble Pine….something like that…anyway, it hangs onto needles no matter how dry it gets. 

~~~

I took a little time to reorganize out little storage closet today.  I put all the Easter stuff in one place, the Halloween in another, and so on.  All the Christmas stuff will go at the back, and hopefully it won’t be such a battle to get to it next December.

I told the kids if they wanted to watch the Christmas movies one last time they needed to do it today, so they held a little Christmas Movie Marathon, at least for an hour or so.

I think it’s safe to pack the movies away now.

~~~

Guess I’d better get on my feet again and finish clearing out the tree.  I’d like to put the living room back the way we’d had it before, so I can type on my laptop by the window in the mornings again.

I miss that.

Still Here

I know, I have a bad habit of dropping off the face of the blog occasionally.

But I’m here. 

It’s school vacation week, we’ve had a lovely blizzard, the kids have been busy with all sorts of arts and crafts that they got for Christmas, and with playing guitars and recorders with Bill.

I just started a part-time job, so I’ve been a little distracted by that, but once I get my sea legs there, I’ll get back into a better routine again here.

Just keeping you informed.  :)

I’ll be back (and back to normal) soon!

I’m Done

With the cookie baking.

I just got home from running a couple of errands, and I’d left cookies cooling on the racks in the dining room.

There was one that had broken while I was rolling it in confectioners’ sugar, so I figured I should sample it, you know, to make sure it was okay.

And so I did.

And it’s a really, really good thing, too, because it was the most awful bite of a cookie I’ve ever had.

Food Day Saturday

I took this picture about a week ago. 

I like it because it gives you the impression that I do my dishes on a regular basis and that my countertops are not dusted or encrusted with flour all the time.

The Prodigal Laptop

I have my little laptop back.

Yes, it’s been, as they might say, “rode hard and put away wet” or, in this case, “typed hard and occasionally sat upon by cats,” but it’s still alive and kicking, and that’s all I ask for right now.

Scrambling

Oh, I am woefully unprepared for December this year.

*  I still haven’t made a December banner, though I know what I’m going to do – I just haven’t DONE it yet.  This weekend.  Maybe even today at some point, but don’t hold your breath.  (Like this is the biggest deal in anyone else’s life.)