He thinks he's fourteen.

The camos and tee. The toboggan cap over the long hair, despite the heat.... The snub of his mother's camera. I've been wondering over the "cool" look thing he hankers for, and the hipster cred he's so hip to.

My friend Deanna tells me to take it in stride and be grateful for a socially clued in child. And she is right, I think. The keen observation skills do not end at what's on the tee shirt or what kind of shoes are "right," but also carry over into noticing when an adult's help is needed, when someone's face reads hurt or upset, and being aware of what Rick Levoie calls the "hidden curriculum."

And so it is, on the last day of July in 2009 when the three year old boy snacks at the table, and declares that though his father wants to go out to supper to kick off the weekend, he prefers to stay home.

Thankful Thursday.

Today, and this week, I am thankful for:

-- a few nights here and there of Ziggy going down for sleep with only one parent, thus freeing the other up to attend to other things, and have a little "self time" as the boy calls it.

-- rain, rain, rain.

-- Hank being alive and air lift helicopters and Vanderbilt Hospital for taking good care of him. Hank is Hank, Sr. -- patriarch of the Delvin Family of our beloved Delvin Farms. As Ziggy prayed earlier tonight, "And please watch out for Hank. Because he was in a really bad car accident."

-- a night out with girlfriends.

-- healthier choices making a difference I can feel and see.

-- an excellent showing at today's single-payer health care reform rally, and the staff at Representative Cooper's office graciously granting us an audience.

-- chore lists that work.

-- patience and kindness in my heart, in my stance, in my voice --- when I can get it right.

-- walks with my dog.

-- that steak and eggs supper the other night.

-- the opportunity to love one another more. Even when -- nee, especially when -- it's not easy.

Um, about that Thai style curry?

Well, not only does it have Mama Snee's approval (I really love her writing), but I'm here to tell you that I had the last of it for lunch today -- one portion packed up for me, one for the Mister. No idea if he liked his as much as I did mine, but I threw on some peanuts, gave it a little reheat, and, oh my!! SO good.

I think I also forgot to tell y'all that I also threw in some basil at the very very end, just leaves torn and tossed in. Not Thai basil, but a bit of that purpley kind. My own basil didn't make this year (so odd, that) thus I've been reliant on sprigs from our CSA share, and also the market now and again.

Traveling mercies.

Our friend Amy and one of her boys are on their way to Flagstaff to live. They left this morning. We went by yesterday and Ziggy hugged her and kissed her and told her he loved her. He dictated this letter on the way home afterward, and then again when we sat at the table to get it down on paper. In the car, he asked question upon question about the boy staying here in town and wanted to know, "Who will come to him in the night?" "And then in the morning, who will be there?"

Then last night, I gathered with a passel of neighborhood mama friends at Mad Donna's where we collectively ate, laughed, danced, drank, and played drag queen bingo. Which is just like it sounds. Bingo being called by a drag queen telling naughty jokes. (I had fish tacos and diet coke with lime, and while several of the gals dressed up, I came straight from a meeting, so had on my basic black smeared with banana and kid handprints.)

Traveling mercies, Amy.

Use what we have: Thai style vegetable curry with basmati rice & tofu.

Ziggy saw tofu on some PBS show, and then it came up in a book again. I used to eat a lot of it, prior to returning to eating meat in the the late 90s, and have made it off and on through the last decade, though in rarer instances the last few years we've been doing local meat CSAs and whole cow buys with friends. So somehow, Zig had never had the bean curd, and requested it. We purchased a block from Trader Joe's -- extra firm.

As we'd used the last of our white basmati rice, I replaced it with a brown version, and we had some lovely produce from the garden and from our CSA. I've been keeping coconut milk around for making dal, and I had the last of a jar of Thai curry paste, passed along from a friend when her family had to alter diet due to food sensitivity and allergies.

Simply: I sauteed onions, garlic and generous hunks of sweet pepper in olive oil. I added a handful of baby limas and snapped bush beans from the garden. Also a few chopped okra, and three juliet tomatoes cut in generous chunks. Then some of the itty bittiest potatoes I dug up the other night, halved or quartered, depending on size. (Note that the gigantic okra was way way way too tough to mess with. I'll harvest it all when it's small from now on, and not wait for there to be several at once!)

The brown basmati rice takes 40 minutes, and bubbled away in a small pot.

To the vegetables, I added a pinch or two of sea salt, then stirred in the curry paste and about a cup of coconut milk, and a quarter cup of water. Then I set the pot lid on and let it simmer on low for about 15 minutes while I sauteed up the tofu (drained and pressed) which I cubed and then cooked in a smidge of olive oil and coconut oil. I'd actually forgotten about the coconut oil to begin with, or would likely have used it alone! I added a generous sprinkle of sea salt to the tofu and just cooked it up 'til the outside was crisped and golden brown.

The resulting meal was lovely. I left the tofu out of the sauce thinking Ziggy might better enjoy it that way, serving a bed of rice with vegetable curry atop, then scattered with cubes of tofu. I had to depart for an evening meeting, so didn't have time to do more than a taste. Ziggy pushed the plate away-- and did NOT want his photo taken, of him or his food! -- but the Mister enjoyed it well.

And I have lunch made for today! I was kind of impressed with myself. No big shakes for a chef, but plenty tasty, and a home cook's delight. Tell me if you try it, or something akin! I'm sure to learn from what you do.

Prematurely picked.

OK, master gardeners: I got overly excited about some of my lima bean production and picked. The beans aren't really developed enough for shelling on most of these (though I've small handful in a Thai style curry that's bubbling away for tonight's supper) -- so what do I do with these? The outside isn't very tender, but the beans, as I said, aren't really mature. I messed up. Banish these to the compost and just learn from my error? Or stew or roast them whole as above? I've not grown limas ever in my adult life, though I've certainly eaten them aplenty.

But then it was our favorite old power supper.

When the dog cut his foot and dripped blood all over the back steps and made prints through the house, after a collision with the boy wherein he wound up with a rashed and scratched bottom and a big mark across his nose, and the bath was needed along with Bactine and mama tending.... there was no forty minutes to cook the rice.

After a moment of pause in thinking we'd just order out, as we were all on edge, I recalled that I'd taken two ribeyes from the deep freeze the day previous, in order to fill my husband's request for steak and eggs, a favorite old standby from the earliest days of our courtship and marriage whenever we needed to power up.

And these were amazingly delicious grass fed locally and humanely raised beef steaks, served up alongside farm fresh eggs (sunny side up for me and the Mister, boiled for the boy), sliced tomatoes from our garden, and old timey oven toast, big Midwestern inspired glasses of milk, and tiny tumblers of orange juice. It was so good and so needed, I only took this photo after we'd demolished our fare.

From the garden.

Pumpkin!! The better to make pie, jack-o-lanterns, pumpkin butter, pumpkin pancakes, AND to serve as a vessel for prayers and messages to the Universe. Remember our wedding?

Cabbage! No idea what's frittering away at the outside leaves, but the inner head is looking mighty good these days. The better for slaw and colcannon and crunchy goodness on fish tacos. Or just cooked up with onions and a little butter, salt and pepper, old school southern style, but not so mushy.

Zucchini. A boatload of them.

Okra! Stewed or fried, doesn't matter to me. In soups and gumbo or even roasted. Having never grown it before, I'm not sure what to expect in terms of output from my two plants, started from seed.

Butternut squash twining round the bamboo teep pee poles, growing free and wild right there amongst limas and bush beans.

Aren't they lovely? The butternut squash seems to be the bumper crop this year.

Cantaloupe!!

Sweet red bell peppers, started from seed saved from Delvin Farms peppers. I bought and put up 40 pounds last year. I cut them up and freeze them in various sizes for use through the year, in soups, enchiladas, sauces, fajitas.... Fresh, we eat them in salads, and dragged through creamy hummus or other dips. Mmm.

Corn! The boy loves his corn on the cob.

Yesterday's harvest of tomatoes (several varieties) and zucchini and okra and bush and lima beans.

Brought inside, and placed stovetop, where I planned to make a Thai curry with coconut milk and some sauteed tofu (Ziggy's request) and brown basmati rice....

Mama Monday: Day is Done.

A favorite in our family over the last year or two is Richard Scarry's Busytown. We've just read and reread and reread it over the last couple months. The story that rings so true to me is "Mother's Work is Never Done" wherein Mama Pig goes through a day with her family, ending up with two piglets tucked into bed with her.

Here am I, at the end of our day. A morning of snapping to, work at the office, home for the boy's nap, more work from the home office during the nap, washing dishes, tending the garden, taking the boy to swim, preparation of the supper, laundry, laying with the child 'til he slept (long long time these days.....,) more dishes, some short words with the husband that aren't altogether pleasant, finish cleaning the bathroom (a chore leftover from the weekend,) and eeking in a post before midnight, just before tucking in.

I'd love to show and tell what I harvested today, and describe the amazing steak and eggs supper we had.

I'd love to tackle the sprawling mess that is my son's room. Or sort a box of things in the sunroom.

Alas, I'm out of steam, so perhaps tomorrow. Goodnight!

Loveness conquers all.

Looking cool has become a big deal at our house.

As in, "I want to wear my Spider Man shirt and the size 12s (Merrell sneakers) so Amy will think I look I look cool."

As in, "I need those sunglasses to wear with my soccer stuff so people will think I look cool."

As in, "I like to look cool, Mama."

Ziggy, my love, I think, you are only three years old! Slow down! Where is all this cool looking business coming from? Your father and I aren't much concerned with this.... I shan't say not at all, but really, hardly!

I fantasize about cutting his long hair, which has become so emblematic of the boy's "cool" -- prompting those who take notice of him to either a) mistake him for a girl (upon which he used to cry, but now has learned to say, "Actually, I'm just a boy with long hair.") or b) tell him some variation of, "Man, you're such a cool kid. You're like a little rock 'n roller." (upon which which he busts out in a grin ear to ear.)

I love his long hair. Long beautiful curly locks. And I paused on cutting it for such a long while because it was beautiful, and because I didn't want to rush him to grow up and stop being a baby or a toddler. I feel almost as though having shorter hair would allow Ziggy to see and feel himself differently, to rely less on a crutch, and then rethink it, even regrow it if that is his choice. At nearly four, he's over 40 inches tall and just over 40 pounds. He speaks very well and often. He has extraordinarily strong opinions, likes and dislikes, and operates in the world as his high spirited spirit leads him.... The apple, as they say, doesn't fall far from the tree. His father generally doesn't care at all what people think of his clothing or much else, remaining engaged with the notion of independence and autonomy to a strong degree. And I know I cared (and care) about how I am perceived, but as a very young person, I was far more of the people pleasing variety and would wear whatever was given me and subjugate my own longings to be cool. On this front, I am grateful that my boy can tell me what he's thinking, and what he values. I was secretive as a child and a young person, and I aim to create an environment whereby I'm available for even the bad or sad or mad stuff. It does open the door for communication.

But all of this has-- particularly at such a very young age, as yet uninfluenced by school peers or lots of television or the internet-- brought about some gentle parental concern.

At Target yesterday, picking up a few needed items for his upcoming school experience, he clamored for new sunglasses. Reflexively frugal, I said no immediately. Then reneged, recognizing that one pair had broken and the other pair were too small, and that sun in his eyes truly makes him uncomfortable. We agreed on a pair that met our budgetary constraints and also his desire to appear cool.

"I don't know where this looking cool thing comes from, I don't even know where you got it."

"From you, Mama. You told me I looked cool one time a long time ago."

"Oh. (cringing inside) Well, let me tell you kid, there are more important things than looking cool, and I want to be sure that I didn't send you the wrong message."

"What's more important than looking cool?"

"Being kind. Cooperating and helping your family and friends, and other people that need your help. Having a good heart."

"And loveness. Loveness, Mama."


===========================


I struggle with balancing my roles. Those of wife, mother, wage earner, homemaker, daughter, friend, sister and so on.... I struggle with getting it all done. With the lack of downtime on my own, or with my mate. And with household organization. This flaw has become a rather thorny problem in our small living quarters and in my marriage. There is merit to each side of how it is seen.

I am rendered nearly inarticulate and only know that it is exhausting and maddening and so very frustrating to have let go the things I hold for self alone and still not come out even. I mean: with no regularity do I purchase records and have coffee out or go out with friends or see live music or buy new books. Or get regular haircuts. Or buy new clothing. (Blah blah blah. Big whoop. I recongize how utterly juvenile this sounds.) Sadly, none of this seems to have made the dent necessary to balance some things out in terms of expense and space and all things having their own place.

I can not make sense of it all enough to speak it or write it well. And the last thing I want to do is point fingers. I do, however, want some peace and some organization and some prioritizing to take place in our home. I try. I know my husband tries in his own way. But on this we do not and may never see eye to eye. I want a small wardrobe for our son's room, as there are but two tiny closets in our home. I want fewer library items, more places to put them. I want some help with inability to juggle it. And what I find, is that I fail at communicating effectively, and that what we value is not the same. Troubling for a marriage, as I have learned previous. (Though certainly not insurmountable, as plenty of other couples have proven.)

Resultantly, despite having dug up from the garden and then having prepared some rather lovely crash hot potatoes alongside a healthier version of creamed spinach, I overcooked the meat, the child wouldn't wash up and come to the table and declared "I need some self time," my mate looked exhausted from his seven day a week work week, my head wouldn't stop throbbing, and I found myself unexpectedly sobbing over the sliced tomatoes into my hands at the supper table last evening. A decidedly sour Saturday night was had. Much of this was my fault. I chose the wrong time and way to deal with the obstinate child, and the wrong time and way to try to converse about household business with my husband. (Oh, I pray to learn to do better, I earnestly do.)


===============


Today I find myself working on a budget for August, menu plans and chore lists. I've been out on errands, have gotten the child down for a nap, and am determined to right some wrongs today.

I'm filling in the calendar, realizing that the boy and I want to go to the sea this fall, which is not as important to the Mister. With work constraints and other resources, the sea seems as if it must wait 'til Spring. My heart feels sad. When Ziggy told me this morning that he'd wear his new sunglasses at the beach, it sunk a little.

But here and now, I try to focus on what needs doing.

I sometimes wonder if Fly Lady would really help, or if there's a really great site for some basic chore lists, and if making better decisions about nutrition and exercise as I've been doing will help gain me some energy to carry through....

When I speak to my girlfriends, I know I am not alone in this struggle of balancing things. And that's great, but I want some fixes, not just commiseration.

Again, again, again, I recognize that I can only be responsible for myself, and for my child, and that any change I make must be in ME. And I recommit to doing better with the balance, better at the householding, better at the lot of it.


==============


To this end, I can say that my efforts at making some better choices are being fruitful. I've given up on the afternoon coffee. I've replaced half and half in my morning cup with skim milk, the sugar with honey. I've significantly cut back on intake of dairy and sugar and anything "white" as I've kept true to my goal of using what we have, but not replacing it in the old way. I have begun to shift my thinking, AND my actions. In general, I've kept a tighter reign on when to tell myself "no," and made telling myself "yes" an occasion of greater celebration because of its specialness.


===============


Hairshirts aren't for me.

I choose to be healthy, to be happy, to practice loveness.

Oh, yes, I do.

One of those off days.

Purse missing a couple days. Online banking revealed no activity. Could it have been left at Ugly Mugs? Or at Alice's? Mislaid here or there? Forgotten in the car?

Newly copied keys do not work properly, and I couldn't get into the exterior door at work. No banner retrieval for the health care reform rally tomorrow, depsite having driven all the way out there.... and the tank being near empty. Alas, no purse.

There was a sweet and enjoyable evening last night with dear old friends we'd not seen in far too long. Sadly, we have fallen out of the habit of socializing much as a family, and it always recharges us, puts us into new light, in a way, even.

And then today was a lovely impromptu visit with friends-- a gathering at a friend's home, children running about and mamas chatting and lunching. I did make a very satisfactory orzo and stars salad, repurposing the last of some vegetable enchilada filling, adding more sauteed zucchini from the garden, and onions, garlic, sweet peppers, halved tiny tomatoes, lime and cumin and olive oil and cannellini beans and corn, a smidge of the last fresh cilantro. Lots of laughing. A break in the day. A coming together after weeks of summer scatter.

And then, on the phone with Alice, who assures me the purse is not in her child's room, I spy it. Where? At the bottom of the laundry hamper beside the dryer in the kitchen. Why? I do not know. I suppose I'll find dirty laundry where the clearn ought to be, and so on....

Huge sigh of relief. Balance restored.

And sweet husband coming home with Eastside"krunkest" Fish for a fun family supper.

Thankful Thursday.

And for this gift of food we say, for all God's loving care today,
Father, we thank Thee.
-- what we call The Michigan Blessing

Today and this week, I offer up gratitude for:

-- A new job. The opportunity to do good work that matters, and to provide for my family.

-- Less snot. Seriously. Though still kind of a lot.

-- Less coughing. Which also means more comfort in general.

-- More clothes than my child can wear, the better to share them with other families!

-- More healthful food choices. Feeling better.

-- The insight and self knowledge that encouraged my husband to take a run after work, then go out to see friends and hear music.

-- (As of next week) Finally finishing our commitment to Regional Intervention Program (RIP) with whom Ziggy and I have spent much time over the last nine months.

-- Holding babies Sam and Asher this week. So sweet.

-- An evening of alone time when I got the boy down so easily, and the husband went out. So much productivity! Such longed for quiet.

-- Some really stellar smallish bananas from Trader Joes.

-- Zebra tomatoes, roma tomatoes, big Zach tomatoes, early girls, and so on....

-- Plenty of rain.

-- Strangely cool weather.

-- Something I might call growing wisdom with age. Yeah. I think that's it. Kind of settling down, without losing focus.

A boy's eye view.

Mama & Daddy. As photographed by our son. Age 3, nearing 4.

Ratatouille time!

I'll add today's harvest of tomatoes and zucchini to CSA eggplant. Together with some onions and garlic, I'll make a big bubbling pot of ratatouille this week. Mmm.

I like to make it in large quantity, freezing some for later meals -- served on its own, over pasta, on toasted up bread, or even tucked into quiche. Several years ago, I took a ratatouille quiche to work; it became known as rooty-tooty to my co-workers at Renewal House.


(Don't you love the bowl? I'd always coveted them at thrift shops and antique malls of the stripe found in my Mister's native southwestern Michigan. My mother-in-law, who has several sets, gifted me with a nesting trio of these. )

oh! AND: I have cantaloupe growing in the garden!! Silly me thought my seedlings didn't make it and that these were cucumbers. Alas, no! We'll have a ripe melon within the week.

Guns of toast.

Recently, I told my mother that it seemed cliche for parents to talk about how their boys and little ones -- even when they'd not been exposed to guns on television, books or in their home environments -- would chew a piece of toast into a weapon of destruction.

The next morning, my own child chewed his slice of banana bread into a gun.


Unlike me, who grew up with a father and grandparents who kept guns for hunting, sport and even self protection, my own son lives in a home with no weapons. I'm a peace activist.

And yet, as above, his Kindermusik kazoot instrument is still as likely to a be a gun as it is the leader in the band.....

Mama Monday: working through the TO DOs.

Here's me needing a hair cut & wearing a banana smeared tee shirt-- a one off snap at my mess of an armoire desk, just after a small pick me up snack. I forwent the longed for coffee for a few ounces of orange juice and an ounce of unsalted peanuts. I can tell you, I still want the coffee, but I probably will feel more restful and content later for the better choice.

Oh so glammy glam day of talking with people on the telephone about vehicle repairs, insurance coverage and my husband's wisdom tooth surgery.... Emails detailing facility issues and new tasks at the Center. Work both at home and the office with the child in tow, a stop to copy keys and another to play at a park.

The afternoon has been all about business, crossing things off the list, and getting the supper together: cold ham slices (gifted us from a vegetarian friend who served ham to her guests at Easter; I got the bone for beans and some slices that have been residing in the freezer!), potato salad, deviled eggs, sliced tomatoes and corn on the cob. Sounds like summer to me.

Spiderman, Spiderman, he can do whatever a spider can....

In the car on the way from the Y where we've picked up sign up information for soccer and on the way to "town" for play and for errands, "No, mama, it wouldn't be embarrassing. I don't mind if you are a team parent for my soccer."


In the car on the way to Dragon Park before going to Trader Joe's and after hitting Broadway shoes on Demonbreun, "This is the darndest red light in the whole world, 'cause it's taking so long to turn green."


In the car after Dragon Park, "Mom, is there a tooth fairy in this world?"


Then Trader Joe's. For bananas and organic milk and lemons and limes, and for whole wheat naan (which the boy loves loves loves and insists on calling pita) to go with the requested Indian food supper of chicken (meh, he thinks) and dal (which he also loves, save for the tomato bits, and insists on calling "don.") Oh, and raita, which we just call yogurt sauce mostly, and the boy's without cucumber.


And at Trader Joe's upon seeing his favorite worker named John, "Hey, John! It's me again!" And high fives and big toothy grins exchanged and a balloon given and all is right with the world, which may, or may not, have a tooth fairy in it.


In the car in the Trader Joe's parking lot before pulling out and headed toward home for yard play and supper cooking and eating,"I know you will love me when you are an old woman and I am a big grown man, and will you name me Olen then?"


Home again, just before the evening meal, the boy finds a spider. A spider so big his daddy sees it from 25 feet away while standing in the sunroom, though he thinks from that distance it is a cricket. Not a cricket. A spider. The spider above.


After the meal, the boy says, "Now, Mama, let's look this spider up on a website and see what kind it is. Let's take pictures and put it on the blog on the computer."


So here you are. I'm thinking wolf spider.


And also that the boy child needs his own blog.


Stay tuned.

Sunday breakfast.

Family time at the table is important. Also the walk afterward.

CSA sausage, eggs, tomatoes & cantaloupe. With toast, coffee, juice, milk....

Pain, heartache & oatmeal bars.

Oatmeal bars are in the oven because they are Ziggy's favorites, and because they are Amy's favorites, too. Amy and her boys have been a regular neighborhood part of our life for years, but a particularly beloved and regular part of our everyday world in the last year. Today is her big yard sale before she leaves to live in Flagstaff. We're taking oatmeal bars and lots of hugs because we really love her and will miss her, and we wish her and the boys well on this adventure.


The Mister is still in bed. Last night he was in excruciating pain. The kind that deeply concerns me, as it's seldom that I see my big strong beloved husband so disabled and wracked. Not since he had kidney stones soon after we married have I seen him writhe and ache so. I wish he'd had the wisdom teeth taken care of when it was recommended by our dentist and he did the consult, but here we are, and I love him and am worried. I do not want him to hurt and wish I could take it away. Generally speaking, I don't think oral surgeons are available on the weekend for surgical extraction, but we'll figure it out.


Ziggy's growing pains (leg cramps) have been aided lately by massage, a hot water bottle, and by some muscle balm made by The Merry Hempsters. He chose the latter at our local health & natural food shop, largely because it "smells like coffee cake" and is in a tube he can roll up and down and apply himself, much like Chapstick or some such. I give him leg rubs he calls "petch-massage" as I've explained the milking Swedish stroke I use for this purpose is petrissage.

The legs have been making it hard for him to sleep. And last night, as we lay there in our big family bed, my Mister turned away and clenching in pain, my boy asked the most heartbreaking question, "Mama, why always do you get mad at me every day?"



As previously expressed, it's been a rough week in terms of transition and added stressors. I've still been battling this cough and congestion, which has robbed me of much sleep, and have begun a new job.... Clearly, I've been cranky and frankly, in a few instances haven't mothered my son with the kind of care I strive for when pressed. My tone has become sharp, my "just a minute" has become too often. After neutrally talking with him about it and assuring him of my love and commitment to be gentler, that I don't want to make him feel as though I'm angry with him, Ziggy offered up, "or be a bad mama." No. I don't want to be a bad mama. I held him, and silently wept.



Today, I want to reconnect, rest, recreate; bring my focus from outer world to inner world. Provide that soft but steady place for my family to lean....


+++++++

For the Oatmeal Bars, I use / adapt a recipe from Health online. My adaptations or changes from the first time I made them are below in dark red. I continue to work this, using more maple syrup, less sugar, whole wheat in place of unbleached all purpose flour, and adding this and that, like pumpkin in fall in place of the applesauce, which today I made on the stovetop. I also used coconut oil in place of the butter today.


Maple Date-Nut Oatmeal Breakfast Squares


Prep: 10 minutes; Bake: 25 minutes.


1/4 cup maple syrup I used 1/2 C.
1/4 cup coarsely chopped walnuts I used 1/2 C almonds instead
1 cup chopped pitted dates I used golden raisins instead
1/2 cup brown sugar Using brown sugar makes baked goods crispy but moist; I was out, so opted for a little more maple syrup as above
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 egg
3 tablespoons butter, softened
1/2 cup applesauce
1/2 cup vanilla low-fat yogurt I used lowfat plain yogurt
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour I used unbleached white and gold flour from the 7th day Adventist commisary; it has some wheat germ in it
3 cups quick-cooking oats (not instant)
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
I added 3 T ground flax seed

1. Preheat oven to 350°.

2. Mix all ingredients in a large bowl, stirring slowly with a wooden spoon until well combined.

3. Spray a 9- x 13-inch baking pan with cooking spray. Pour batter into pan, and spread evenly.

4. Bake 25 minutes or until just golden brown around edges. Cool and cut into squares.


Yield: Makes 24 servings (serving size: 1 square)

Calling all botanists!

The Mister and the child went beyond our fence to collect an errant backyard ball, and came back with this. We're curious about what it is!

The plant, they tell me, stood 18-24" tall, had no leaves and was just stalk and these berry / bud looking things.

Tell us what it is? Hazard a guess? Send us to a site for information?

After the supper, before the bath....

The supper: CSA chicken leg quarters cooked up crisp on the outside, succulent on the inside in my late grandmother's cast iron skillet. Orzo gussied up with leftover vegetable enchilada filling (black beans, chickpeas, corn, peppers, onions, garlic, cumin...) and fresh cilantro. Cups of Alice's carrot and pea soup with potatoes and basil, alongside other treats she brought: Moroccan olive bread, havarti, and plates of sliced kiwi, squares of dark chocolate, and a small scoop of delectable homemade chocolate ice cream that Eileen shared with Alice. A true community supper offering.

Happy Friday, all.

Today's haul.

Today's harvest above: the season's first cucumber and red potatoes (thanks to Heather for the seed potatoes, which were shared to Angel, and then to me.) Not shown: the zucchini I sent home with Alice, who showed up this afternoon with soup and bread and cheese, kiwis and dark chocolate, and her sweet spirit.


The week has blessedly come to an end-- it's been busy and transitional and tough on Ziggy who dissolved into a long weeping and holding over supper. I promised him that after a morning spent at the office with me today, we'd spend lots of down time together getting recharged, and spend the weekend focused on same.


We were home this afternoon for napping (Ziggy's arms twined so tight 'round my neck, his soft sweet breath on my shoulder) and tidying and blowing bubbles, in the garden, and just hanging out in the back yard with the dog. Time of this nature has felt too scarce in the past two weeks, and it throws us off. As well, settling into any kind of new routine, and adjusting to big change-- particularly one with such fast moving unfurling -- is hard on him. And on me.


I had earlier planned to double up at Family School next week and knock it out in one fell swoop, but after last evening's come apart, it became clear that we needed to simply let that area of our life remain tried and true.


As I've decided on childcare, a three day a week program for part day, that piece in now in place. On the way home from the office, Ziggy and I dropped off the paperwork to enroll him and a deposit to the school we toured (and he loved) Wednesday afternoon. Though he won't begin the year there until mid August, he's very much looking forward to making new friends, and playing on their fantastic playground and in the "big room" full of magnificent tricycles. He told me yesterday morning, "I'm going to just talk to people and let them get to know me and if I forget their names, I will ask them."

Finding quality care at this late date for fall has been challenging. I'd initially believed we'd do two separate Mother's Day Out programs, but that emerged as tricky with availability, including that I really needed three slightly longer days of care instead of four slightly shorter ones.... Too, though the price was right, and the environments sweet, I knew in my heart that Ziggy would blossom more readily if given the opportunity to dig into a single community where he could, as he said above "let them get to know me" and he, them. I didn't have time or quite enough resources to work out the Montessori programs with barter and financial aid, and so many wonderful programs were just full up for Zig's age, or made little sense financially. I am thankful to my disparate array of mama friends for advice, recommendations, reminders and suggestions. I have also had an expedited education on what to look for and ask about, and have learned just how very large an expense good care is. Ultimately, the place we found was recommended by Rowena, a homeschooling mother of one, whose daughter has really enjoyed the program the last two years, her final one while concurrently homeschooling for kindergarten.

Truth be told, to have arrived at a decision, it feels as though a weight has been lifted, some brain and heart space cleared. I feel as though I've made the most right decision for my boy at this time, who I think has a really good shot at enjoying himself at his school this year -- a something he so dearly wants to do. I feel that there he will be safe, valued, cared for, and know that he matters. He will be in a class of eight children, with a veteran teacher and mother. Bittersweet: I am both proud and excited for him, and a bit sad that he'll be away from me. It all just happens so fast, this raising a child, this life living.

At my clearest place, I know that this is right and good for our family. I embrace the opportunity and daily, I pray for the clarity, the vision and the fortitude to do it with the best I've got.

Thankfully, I am in good company, buoyed by the love, support and good will of family and friends. Y'all know who you are. XXX

Thankful Thursday.

Today and this week, I offer up gratitude for:

-- the opportunity to improve my family's economic status, and do work that matters.

-- Krystal and Crystelle.

-- Kelly. And Stephanie.

-- a job for dear sweet Mama Loca. A really good fit for her.

-- partnership with my main man, the Beloved Mister.

-- delight in raising my other main man, Ziggy.

-- good options in childcare, and the ability to figure it out, run the numbers, somehow make it work.

-- mothers who've been there first and share their mama wisdom.

-- cantaloupe.

-- the neti pot.

-- soft tissue.

-- plenty of what we need.

-- and a lot of what's just so nice to have.

Oh, yum.

Those honkin' tomatoes were so amazingly delicious last night with cold slices of ham (gifted us from my mother, who purchased them from her church's hosting of a supper to raise money for the Lost Boys of Sudan) and CSA corn on the cob as well as a variation on colcannon using CSA potatoes and that Swiss chard.

I'm still on the hunt for a "school" for Ziggy, though am narrowing the search. He'll be hanging with some friends from our wonderful homeschooling community for the first part of today while I go in to work some with the exiting coordinator at the Peace & Justice Center.

There's a CSA pick up this afternoon, and I'm attending what promises to be a savvy event hosted by Nashville's Social Media Club at the Center for Non-Profit Management: Social Media for Social Good.

I'm not kicking this cough and its attendant difficulties with the speed I'd hope, and sleep has been fitful. I figure I'll wear myself out good today, then sleep well tonight.

I'm trying to get myself to enjoy black coffee. Or just switch over to green tea.

For now, there are lunches to pack, dishes to do, bodies to be made ready for the day that lies ahead.....

It's a "Bo-FAY."

The Mister and the boy decided the greedy birds in our yard needed to be charged for their food, so this morning, they made a sign and posted it in the yard.

News in six bites.

Clearly, Zig's room needs to be vacuumed! Car photo by Ziggy!

1. Ziggy says great stuff every single day. He makes me laugh out loud, and wonder over how he can be so deep and sensitive. We have played with his "Jesus Activity" today, as we do many days. Do you know that means his nativity Playmobil set? (Thanks to my mystery friend for this much beloved gift this past Christmas season!)

2. An example of the kind of thing he says is like this little gem today, almost as a throw-away,"Mama, this cashew looks like three things: a rainbow, a crescent moon, and.... well, it looks like TWO things."

3. I've been asked to be on a panel at the Americana Music Association conference this fall. The panel is on children's music in the Americana stable. We'll see how the timing and all lines up for that.

4. The Mister and I both have our writings from the now defunct (on paper) magazine No Depression up online in their archives section. You can find us by searching for our names (alphabetized for some unknown reason by first name). Here is our co-authored hot chicken piece, in the event you haven't seen it or want to revisit.

5. Over my relatively short career as a mother, I've been a stay-at-home, a work-at-home, and a work-away-from-home mama. For the last year, save for bits and bobs, since my position at Mothers Acting Up phased out, I've been out of work. As I mentioned in a very general way in another post, that ends this week with my acceptance of the position of director / coordinator for the Nashville Peace & Justice Center. It's half-time. Makes good use of my skill set, and should be a challenge as well. I am excited. At the moment, I'm working on the childcare piece for Ziggy. He is very enthused about the prospect of "going to school." Of course, I'm very very late to the game this year, as the full season (Fall through Spring) of playschool / preschool, etc. begins next month and the best places are filled and / or are very pricey. I'm looking at options for 2-4 days for the boy to go to a part day program (something like 9-2:30) and am not interested in straight up daycare. I feel certain that a good option will out itself and 'til then, I'm on it.

6. Also, I'm lining up the "extracurricular" schedule for my kid who wants to do EVERYTHING.... Pre-planning allows me to budget time, money and other resources to his pursuits (as well as those of the adults in our home!), which look to be soccer, then karate, then basketball. And maybe dancing somewhere in there, too. He wants it all, and I'm trying to meet his hunger for experience and socializing with the mama-wisdom of unstructured play, basic down-time, and lots of room for flexibility. This is needed, I find, particularly on a day when my child is still napping at 5 in the evening after a very low key day. The current growth spurt has necessitated extra rest and extra good food!

In the family garden.

Around the family table.

Our months' long illness of winter got us off track from going to church, which in turn, gave me time to ponder my own confusions and misgivings with regard to where to go, confusions and misgivings that I'd successfully (or so I thought) previously addressed.

Ziggy misses church terribly. He misses, as he recently told me with trembling bottom lip and chin, "My friends at Bible school class at the big church where Miss Ruby goes, and my favorite part is sitting with you, Mama, in the pews and looking at the big books when we listen to the beautiful peaceful music."

Hard to argue with that. And I've told Ziggy that I'll happily reengage my efforts on his behalf, and either return where we'd been attending, or find a better fit. I have found fellowship, reengagement with tradition, and spiritual nurture at Belmont -- and am particularly excited for Ziggy about their children's programming-- but also find good in so many others, including having felt elements of home at Nashville Friends Meeting, as well as local Unity and Unitarian Universalist churches. Alas, the coughing at present makes sitting in a peaceful sanctuary a bit difficult.

Which brings us to this morning, here at home where we've played and visited and gardened and planned.... The breakfast above: all local and whole foods, save for the Sister Schubert rolls (oh, my, they are good) procured for nearly free on that tripled coupon spree last month. And good as it was, as much as I enjoyed the couponing puzzle, I think we're done in largest measure with that experiment. As avowed previous, we're eating what's in the larder and freezer that which is off list with the new plan, but not replacing it tit for tat. Instead, we're going full on whole foods and moving away from the "junky" stuff we've enjoyed in addition to our largely local and healthy diet. Cutting the fat, as it were. Which also cuts cost, and elminates most need for couponing.

I've been wanting to begin baking all our own bread, and have several friends who've become converts to the Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day which holds much allure, though the library book has a waiting list many people long. I think I'll spring for a copy myself. Those of you already using it, are there ways I can use all whole grain flours? I know the basic boule is made with all purpose or a mix of all purpose and whole wheat, isn't that right? But to wean my family off white flour, is there a version I can make with full on whole grain? Tell me, do.

The planning and the organizing becomes ever more important, as it appears that I will become, for the first time in a good while, a working outside the home mama, as soon as this week; an endeavor of mixed blessing and mixed initial feeling as I scramble to navigate childcare and other commitments. At the bottom of it all, however, I welcome the opportunity to engage my skills and more significantly contribute to my family's economic well-being. I think that the timing is very right in terms of our needs and current abilities, including Ziggy's comfort with being in the care of others.

Our breakfast blessing acknowledged all these things, and asked for the guidance to make sound decisions with balance and time management, that we may all truly bask in the opportunity.

Details anon.

Giblets.

Being gone from one's own home a week presents new appreciation for dwelling place upon rehabitation.

Ditto to being apart from one's mate. Particularly when one's mate has put clean sheets on the bed, kept up with the hairballs and dirty dishes, and is so genuinely glad to have his family home.

The photo above, taken the evening of our homecoming, shows the Mister pre-shearing (he's clean shaven of face, save for a soul patch, and wearing very short hair, thus far less Mr. Noodle, far more the man I fell for nearly 8 years ago) and the boy child in his preferred long hair done in a tight braid, with hand injury taped up, Yoda tee shirt, and the favored three D glasses duct taped into goggle-wear. I love these fellas with every inch of my being.


You know when you've been sick a good while, like, say, three or four days, and you think you're getting better and then don't really? Like you've passed the worst of the fever / chills / can't move one-hundred-dollar flu, but you're still not truly better? You know how after nearly a week of being run down, you're still producing more mucous than you ever knew possible and racing through the Puffs Plus and the ears hurt and the neti pot provides fleeting relief and you can't lay down without coughing so hard you pee yourself? (Ok, mothers, it's time to fess up on this one: pregnancy, and childbirth --whether vaginal delivery and hard core pushing or lenghty labor and catheterization -- wreak havoc on bladder control.) You know how even when you have the time to stay home you just feel like poop?

Yeah? Well that's me, now.

I'm doing all the things I'm supposed to do: hot tea, hot showers, rest, dairy avoidance, solid nutrition, fresh air, blah blah blah.... Incanting healthful intention, using affirmations, going all Louise Hay.

The tincture of time. And more of the above. Plus a shot of orneriness.



My parents are at the beach, as is my sister and her family. We just couldn't put together two back to back weeks to be away from home and had already made plans to be in East Tennessee when my brother and his wife were down from Boston. So it goes. Though the sea is much missed. By both Ziggy and me.



My garden is exploding, and has appreciated the day's rain, but needs more than I can give it today in terms of time, energy, and tending. Perhaps tomorrow.



This afternoon, I'll put together a large pot of vegetable beef soup, using the last of my dad's brisket, and produce from both the garden, and our CSA. The boy and I have been painting, and laying about. He and his father ran errands together this morning and played in the backyard, lending me a rare two hours of time to be alone.



I wish I could say I finished the book I've been reading. Alas, no.



I did have an enjoyable job interview yesterday; my boy hung with Kelly and her girls for a Mom's Club meeting, playground and picnic, then water play in Kelly's backyard. My friends are a blessing. Too, it was quite lovely to plug into my brain and meet with adults to speak of adult things all on my own. No idea what will become of the opportunity ultimately, as there are far too many stipulations and points of consideration beyond whether or not I am a fitting candidate for said job. Enough said.



I really do love television. Not without reservation. But, yes. I really do love television. Particularly the Food Network, though I'm upset with them for suddenly airing commercials for A&E and Bravo and films inappropriate for children. Like my old man, I may become that dreaded old cuss dashing off letters of displeasure to corporate entities. The fancy cable at my folks' place was quite enjoyable. The boy and I watched Martian Child. Last night's family movie night was a viewing of Muppets from Space on Comcast's on demand programming. Luxury much appreciated.



I'm boring myself. Soup calls.

Thankful Thursday.

Today, and this week, I am thankful for:

-- Family. The extended mix. Who, even on a bad day, as my husband reminds me, our son is MORE than lucky to have because they love him so much and offer such richness to his life, in spite of (and maybe because of) their imperfection. (Remember those opportunities to love one another more? Yeah. Those.)

-- Diggy. Everyone needs a good Diggy for a pillow. Especially when your own mama is sick, as I have been much of this week. Thanks to Diggy (*my* mother) for her loving kindness, her patience, her sense of fun. My boy and I both thank you so much for your care. He additionally thanks you for limitless banana bread and a run of blueberry muffins. Mmm.

-- An opportunity -- no matter the eventual outcome -- to interview for paying work.

-- Friendship.

-- Watermelon.

-- Zucchini and tomatoes.

-- Siblings. See first and second items above.

-- My dad. Again, see first and second items above. Though the individual notations are worthwhile and called for. Plus which, my dad smokes up a hell of a brisket, and always he and my mother lay in the supplies they know a body likes: schmancy coffee, real mayonnaise, a favorite cracker or juice or whatever a someone holds onto for comfort.

-- A dishwasher at my folks' place. And fancy cable. And air conditioning. And a pool nearly in the backyard. And lots of space.... such deeply appreciated (and generously shared) amenities.

-- A dear mate. Can't wait to hug your neck, Babe. I missed you.

-- Home. No place like it. Happy to be here after a week away.

-- Supplies laid in and supper on the stove.

The view from here: morning in the garden.

Happy Birthday, Sis.

Paige and Dana. Paige 31/2, Dana 14 mths. Note on back of photo written by Mother,
"Paige has a scratch from a fight with John Yost."

Thankful Thursday.

Enough is the same as a feast!!

Today, and this week, I am thankful for:

-- the bounty of joy that is raising my son.

-- inspiration from Mama Loca on better living. And several phone conversations....

-- my love of salads.

-- the resources with which to replace the dead car battery, and to AAA for coming to my aid.

-- a delightful movie outing with Ziggy to see Evan Almighty, in which God, played by Morgan Freeman says something weep-worthy wonderful to the effect of: if someone prays for her family to become closer, what is provided is the opportunity to love one another more.

-- opportunities to love one another more, as per above.

-- the garden: its therapeutic value can not be dismissed.

-- post supper games of Honey Bee Tree, Candyland, Go Fish, and our current favorite memory game, I Never Forget a Face.

-- a far too delayed visit with dear Kaki and Bill, and a pending family dinner date.

-- recommitment: to goals, and to people, not least of all myself.

-- a new aquarium full of fish!

-- time to read.

A different kind of farmer....

Happy July!!

I've just spent a full on two and one half hours in the garden this morning -- pruning, mulching, coddling, staking, watering. I couldn't be happier.

First zucchini harvest: one perfect squash. Okra, corn, peppers, cabbages, all coming along. Tomato explosion of both large and small fruits, none yet ripe, but edging toward deliciousness.... Fried green tomatoes for supper, perhaps?

We're shortly off to pick up some seasonal loaner tomato cages with which to prop up the volunteers and other tomatoes which weren't trellised.

Scores of friends and neighbors have headed to the Belcourt this week to see Food Inc. and I, too, would enjoy seeing it, though suspect it will have to wait for DVD release. Have you seen it? Here's the trailer....



My boy, at 3 3/4 (40 lbs, 42") continues to be enamored of our CSA's farm fresh eggs ("Scrambled, please. With toast!") -- they are extraordinary. I do look forward to the day I have my own hens, though think perhaps my Mister will need to come around. Not that he's against them in theory (I wanted to marry him, in fact, when he told me he'd build me a coop), just that he's right about how swamped and over committed I am, how better I need to manage my time, and learn some moderation-- how I have other things to master first. Yes, yes. Patience. Start small.

Like, see me up there so round and peasanty? Next summer, you'll see a similar photograph, me still likely peasanty, though less round. Well, let's cut to it: not so fat. Leaner, stronger, healthier. For now, starting small. Bit by bit, bite by bite.

And, oh, hey! Did you see the stunning article in the New York Times this morning on urban farming?:

“We need 50 million more people growing food,” Allen told them, “on porches, in pots, in side yards.” The reasons are simple: as oil prices rise, cities expand and housing developments replace farmland, the ability to grow more food in less space becomes ever more important. As Allen can’t help reminding us, with a mischievous smile, “Chicago has 77,000 vacant lots.”

Go here for the full story.

Meantime, I'm off to get those cages and play with my boy child in the yard.... I'll be back later for Thankful Thursday.