Tuesday, July 31, 2007
I spent some therapeutic time in the kitchen yesterday, baking whole wheat bread, banana bread and veggie pie. I even snipped fresh herbs into my pie dough--thyme, to be exact. I diced all my vegetables, cut up some more fresh herbs--thyme, rosemary, sage--and cooked it all up with a Parmesan sauce. It's a surefire way to get Owen to eat his vegetables. (In a pie, go figure. With a cup of sweet tea, too.) Is this like adding applesauce to cookie dough and calling it a serving of fruit?
The "GVP" on the crust stands for what else but Garden Vegetable Pie. Yummy. After sharing it with the in-laws for lunch today, it is gonzo.
And yesterday afternoon, I gave Helen a drink. She's now weaned to formula, and we're experimenting with a sippy cup specially designed for transitioning from bottle to cup (sippy cups are NOT created equal). After her afternoon nap, she usually gets juice in her cup, but I tried good old cow's milk, vitamin D, homogenized, pasteurized. On a side note, one brand here now is selling for a whopping $6/gallon. We need a cow. Helen guzzled her milk happily, albeit a tad messily.
And then I nearly stepped into a suspicious liquid and realized why her level of milk went down so fast. Not only was she drinking the milk, but she was also spilling it, in all manners-- spurting down her front, dripping down her neck, pooling under her head and back. Nasty. She was delighted. A genuine milk bath. What's next, honey and lavender? (It's good for the complexion, Mom!)
So while supper was in the oven, I abandoned kitchen clean up for kiddie clean up.
Along came big brother and stated that, in his opinion, Helen should not be alone in the tub, and he was the exact person needed to bring her companionship, and shame on Mommy for almost allowing Helen to be so abandoned by her big brother. How generous of him. He really just saw her playing with HIS bath toys, and jealousy took over. This was Owen's second bath of the day.
Before bedtime, he needed yet another bath, because we slaved in the flower beds after supper, removing white rocks to replace with pine straw. We got a small section done. And only encountered one ant bed. Blast those stupid things. At least I got away with only about 5 bites this time. These are not the sweet little sugar ants I knew as a girl in Indiana--the ones I loved to watch industriously building their homes. These are fire ants, the kind that bite, make you jump up and down, think bad words, create instant fury. The bites itch for days. Blast them! They so ruin a picnic.
Friday, July 27, 2007
The other afternoon, Owen was doing his best to get the kitty, who was doing her best to hide from his clutches. It is amazing to me how the cats let Owen haul them around, not even giving him a warning scratch. He will carry them in various backwards and upside down positions, almost squeezing the life out of them. When he finally gets one, he climbs up into a chair and holds it tightly--Owen gleeful, cat quietly panicked. They've learned to stay away from him now.
By the way, this sweet little thing needs a home. She is learning to catch live things and turn them into dead things. (That's a good thing if you live in the country.) Can you mail a cat?
I was so sweetly touched when I saw Owen's treasures in the trunk of his car--two withered petunia blossoms. (Never mind the fact that I have been working with him NOT to pick flowers.) He saw me picking some zinnias and some hydrangeas and talking about how pretty they were. I'm glad he appreciates them, but we can't just go around picking any flowers we like now, can we? If I did that, I'd be in serious trouble with the city.
And the other day, I saw a butterfly resting on the outdoor tile. I wonder if it had seen better days? It had some apparent battle wounds. (Maybe it met up with the kitty?) I saw the butterfly again today, or maybe it was another one, and I saw the kitten scoping it out. I held my breath as the cat pounced--I didn't want to witness the murder of a butterfly--but fortunately the butterfly was quick enough to save its own life.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
What’s your reaction when someone unknowingly inserts a huge high-heeled foot into her mouth when talking to you? My gut reaction is an ugly little feeling that wants to speak words that will make that person feel like an idiot worm. Nice, huh? Polite too! Right.
For instance, “That kid just has a really funny look—big bug eyes and a wide mouth--he looks like an alien. (Confidingly)--You know he has some kind of syndrome or something. He’s just weird. Bless his heart.” Doesn’t that make you want to lie and blurt, “My husband was born with three eyes, 12 fingers and pointy ears, and he had to have multiple operations, but not before other kids made fun of him constantly, so badly traumatizing him that he couldn't stop wetting his bed until just last week,” and watch her backpedal as fast as she can? “Really? I’m so sorry, etc, etc.” And then maybe you gently (or guiltily) counter with "No, not really, but what if?"
It is sobering to me how quickly a person’s true thoughts and attitudes come out in speech. You may have met someone 5 minutes ago, and already you can pick up that they are prejudiced or self-centered or lazy or uncaring—the list can go on. All by what they say and the way it is said.
I know I have stepped on more than my fair share of toes. How embarrassing. And how awful to know that what I say can reveal something ugly that’s in my heart, and that that ugliness can hurt someone else deeply even without me even knowing it.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
I've not been able to bring myself to put this recipe card away since our trip to Indiana. I took it, along with some jalapenos from Ruth's garden, and made these tasty little boogers for our family's Fourth of July get together. I think Jason and Lyndon each had, uh, 10. What a perfect blend of cheese and spicy-ness. I baked them long enough to get rid of most of the fire, but they still had a pleasant warmth to them. They're not for the faint of heartburn.
Now that I've been commissioned to man Ruth's garden while they're on a trip, I think I'll snatch me some more of them there peppers and dream up a celebration to make them again.
Disclaimer: If you want to try your hand at this recipe, wear gloves when you slice and seed the jalapenos. You will not be happy with me if you don't.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Let me just say that I have adorable nieces and nephews! I enjoyed my time with them so much. I hate to see them growing up without me around. I miss all of them. Here we have brand-new Lincoln, who takes his nap seriously,
his big brother Easton getting a swing ride,
little Karis who is turning one year old (modeling a Central American-crafted jumper),
Kaiya the snuggle-bug,
and her big brother Caedmon who has an incredible hang time. We had fun together--it was hard to say goodbye. And we would have had room for stashing these kids away in the Expedition, to bring back with us and enjoy here at home! Next time, Gadget, next time!!!!